#I love the creak of the floors and the way the trees sound like the ocean when the wind blows just right

[tj-crochets]

Hey y’all! I have another kind of weird question for you. I’m weirdly feeling kind of homesick for like fast food chains from the west coast that aren’t on the east coast, and I’m especially missing being able to get decent like meat-and-rice bowls from a variety of places East coast/southern US people, do you have any recommendations for good chain restaurants* that are not available in California? (for people who weren’t here for my “oh no I’m moving how do I handle cold” posts, I moved from California to Tennessee last year) It does not have to be places with rice bowls, that’s just the main thing I’m missing. Well, that and good burritos?  *I do eat at small local places when I can, but I have uncommon allergies and it’s frequently easier for me to get an accurate ingredients list from a chain restaurant because they have a customer service division. Also it’s hard to get recommendations for local places without specifying exactly where I am lol

[st4rbwrry]

𝒟𝒜𝒩𝒢𝐸𝑅𝒪𝒰𝒮𝐿𝒴 𝐼𝒩 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸.

꒰ forbidden love with a southern boy sounds fun. a pastor for a father, and living in a small town with god-fearing, gossipy folk was not. ꒱

🫧 𐀔 . . . 16.8k. fem!reader, lowercase intended, farmer!eren + bluecollar!eren, domesticity, established relationship, talks of religion, small mention of abuse and alcoholism, forbidden love, sneaking around, age difference + time skip, lotssss of arguments, oral sex ꒰ f + m ꒱, quiet sex (they try ;3), fingering, spanking, lots of kisses, eren’s rlly affectionate, foreplay, rough sex, size difference, spitting in mouth vv briefly, sub/dom dynamic, lots of dirty talk, multiple orgasms + overstim. minors do not interact. reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated. ♡

꒰ theme songz + mocha’s note ! ꒱ . . . i’ll be by edwin mccain + movie by avenoir. . . i rlly like this plot, didn’t mean for it to be so long srry. but it’s good so ;) very notebook themed.

 

getting married in secrecy was every family’s worst nightmare. the opportunity to see their creation speak soul-written vows to their lovers and part ways into unity. to laugh and dance together, snap photos, share cuisines and three-tiered intricately crafted fondant cake. helping their daughter pick out a dress, and their son a tux. all of those memories are delicate and forever cherished. to be ridden of that felt cruel. but, what family deserves that when they don’t accept who you're giving your love to? when they find the person you’re marrying selfish, undeserving of your love, and rude? those are the words people used to describe eren, your husband. 

the sun beats down upon the quaint southern town of georgia, casting long shadows across the freshly cut lawns and pegasus-painted houses. a gentle breeze rustles the leaves of the ancient oak trees lining the streets, their gnarled branches stretching towards the cloudless sky. in the heart of this idyllic community, nestled between the town square and the bustling main street, stands a modest yet stately residence. this is where you resided years ago with your father, the reverend pastor kain. the house exudes warmth and tradition, its wraparound porch adorned with rocking chairs and potted azaleas. a white picket fence encircles the property, symbolizing the tight-knit neighborhood and the values upheld within these walls.

inside, the air is thick with the scent of pot roast bubbling within the choral blue dutchoven and the soft hum of gospel hymns drifting from the living room in soft symphonies from your sickly mother. diagnosed with kidney failure yet always ensuring the three of you had the warmest days. the cool interior provides a welcome respite from the summer heat. the polished hardwood floors creak beneath your feet, leading you past a formal dining room with a sturdy oak table and matching chairs. family photographs line the mantel above the fireplace, capturing moments of joy and love.

your father's study lies at the end of the hall, the door slightly ajar. through the crack, you catch a glimpse of his desk, cluttered with stacks of paperwork, sermons, and bibles. the faint aroma of pipe tobacco wafts out, mingling with the musty smell of aged books. despite the comforting atmosphere, an undercurrent of tension hangs in the air, a palpable reminder of the forbidden nature of your love and the stern disapproval of your father, the man of god who once guided you with unwavering devotion.

you’ll never forget the intensity of your heart racing as you held eren’s hand within your own and stood before your father proclaiming your love. the look of disappointment on his face with furrowed brows, smile lines deep as he frowned and stared unwavering. the stern posture he’d taken by leaning up in his chair and hearing the nonsense coming from both of you. the bickering between him and eren while he held your hand the entire time, silently telling you he’d protect you while you shut out the aggressive sound of your father’s voice. 

your love blossomed in stolen moments, snatched between the cracks of duty and expectation. in the hushed whispers of late-night phone calls, the furtive glances exchanged across crowded rooms, and the fleeting touches that set your skin ablaze with longing. the two of you would meet in secret, hidden away from prying eyes and ignorant tongues. in the shadows of the park, where the crickets sang their serenade and the stars twinkled overhead. or in the cozy confines of his pickup truck, parked along lonely stretches of highway, miles from home.

there, in those intimate spaces, you’d lose yourselves in each other. lips meeting in passionate kisses, hands roaming freely, exploring the curves and contours of your bodies. you’d talk with him for hours, sharing hopes and fears, dreaming of a future where you wouldn’t have to hide your love. 

you met on a warm evening on your way to the farmers market, finding him churning butter with broad muscles, naked from his upper body and inked out over his neck and dominant forearm. there’s a slit in his right eyebrow that also held a piercing. slightly wavy brown hair pulled into a bun with baby blue overalls clinging to his skin. 

when he locked eyes with you while you pushed a cute green grocery cart, your heart immediately bloomed. those slanted grayish-green eyes with long, brown lashes of his stealing your strength. his movie star smile with a toothpick lodged between his teeth as he finally caught your gaze. the sun shone down on him, casting a golden glow on his tanned skin and ricocheting off the silver dog tag around his neck making him look even more attractive. 

the man gave you a wink before returning to his task, a sly smile playing on his lips. his arms flexed as he churned a bit harder, obviously showing off now that he knew he had your full attention. shyly, you pull your eyes away from him and pretend you don’t notice him staring as you inspect the vegetables before you. once he had finished, he wiped his hands off on a cloth and strode over to you, his overalls hanging from his hips now after he popped them free in front of you, sweat clinging to his skin. he stood in front of you, a cocky smile plastered on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest, a few beauty marks littered across his skin.

he waited for a moment before speaking up, his voice low. “you know, you’re not very good at pretending you don’t notice me.” he chuckled as he spoke. “i can see you stealin’ glances at me from the corner of your eye.”

goddamn, you nearly short circuit from hearing his voice. it’s deep and slightly raspy. the smell of him is almost natural and sweet. you caught a whiff of apple. or maybe butter given he’d been working on it for the past three hours. 

“and if i was?” 

eren’s smirk widened at your snarky response. he took a step closer to you, his body now mere inches away from yours as he looked down at you, tilting his head slightly. “then i’d say you have a thing for hot and sweaty country boys.”

“yuck, that was so corny,” you giggle in his face. 

he rubbed his forehead with his palm, feigning disappointment at your response, but he was secretly enjoying the playful banter between the two of you. “mhm, yeah. it was, wasn’t it? sorry, i’m not good with talkin’ to pretty girls.” 

you hum. “mhm, i bet you say that to all the girls. it’s a small town, and you’re attractive. i hear lies.” 

“y’know, a liar doesn’t usually apologize for his bad pickup lines. unless . . . ” his voice was a low, sultry murmur now, and his eyes held an intensity that made you feel as if he was peering into your soul. the heat from his body felt like it was seeping into your own, and the air around you seemed to crackle with electricity as he spoke. “he means it. and you aren't calling me a liar are you, darlin’?” 

the way he looked at you made your heart thump hard in your chest, and the fact that he was so close made it difficult to think straight. there’s no doubt that this man was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, in real time at least. 

“you’re staring awful hard, like what you see?” 

“maybe i do.” 

“only maybe?” 

“i do,” you playfully roll your eyes. 

“geez, w’na marry me already,” he jokes, and of course you laugh like a lovesick teen. “i like your laugh, it’s cute. teehee.” 

listening to him mocking you made you gasp and lightly hit his arm. “stopp, i don’t sound like that!” 

“do so,” he slowly licks his lips, scanning you from head to toe. “i’d like to get to know you, if you don’t mind.” 

you nearly choked at the suggestion. me? he wants . . me? no way. “uh, you don’t even know me. didn’t even ask if i had a boyfriend.”

“are you tryin' to say you have a boyfriend?” 

“no, i don’t. but, i'm not allowed to.” 

a frown briefly tugged at his lips as he heard what you said, the meaning behind your words sinking in. not allowed to? “how come? strict parents? celibacy? . . nun?”

“okay, asshole,” you scoff. 

eren throws his hands up in defense. “sorry, just honestly askin’.”

you began to fidget at the thought of telling him about it. what if he ran away because he wanted nothing to deal with it? he notices your reluctance, and almost says something to dismiss the conversation for your sake. “my father’s extremely religious, well known in this town, actually. pastor kain.” 

“oh,” eren nods, understanding clearly now. he tried to be as considerate as possible, even though part of him didn’t care. if he wanted you, he’d have you. “so you’re the daughter. funny, me seeing you only now. he’s that strict he don’t let you come out or sum?” 

“ ‘the daughter’. why do you say that as if i have some type of rumor about me going around?”

“no, no, it’s nothing too serious. maybe a little insensitive, but . . i’ve just heard people whispering about your family and whatnot. things like your father being up his own ass or you being a  . . i’ll dial it down to prude ‘cause i find other shit said derogatory, and i'm sure untrue.” 

pursing your lips, you hum at the things being spoken behind your back. it’s not surprising. “thank you for telling me that. i’m sure a lot of people have opinions about me and my family. my dad can be a bit of a hard ass. and i surely wouldn’t call myself a prude. just because my family is religious doesn’t necessarily make me feel the same.”

“you’re not christian?” he asks. 

“no, not at all. i mean, i believe in something. i pray, i talk to someone, but i don’t consider them god. personally, i call them my fairy godmother,” you smile sweetly, thinking that sounded kind of silly. “sorry, that must sound childish.” 

“it doesn’t, it’s cute,” he chuckles. “i feel the same. agnostic is the term for me. plus, i’m more of a spiritual person. crystals and shit.” 

your brows raise. “wow, that’s rare to hear a man say that, at least here. it’s refreshing.” 

"why's that? you not from here?"

"nah, me and my mother are from the city. philly. he ended up moving us here after getting the deed to his grandfather's house. we've been here since i was ten."

eren shifts where he stands, removing the hair tie from his hair that cascaded down to his shoulders. tucking a strand behind one of his ears and shoving his hands into his pockets. “so does he have you on lockdown for the summer?” 

“pretty much. he’s got me set on studying for college. any other distraction in my path he throws a fit. i usually have free time whenever my mom needs something, like groceries for instance. i have friends and shit, i promise.” 

eren rolls his tongue and plants another toothpick in his mouth, chewing on it and watching as you curiously observe. to do the honors, he answers before you ask. “cigarette addiction. tryna cut back.” 

“makes sense.” 

“how’s about we keep it a secret?"

his tone was firm yet determined as he spoke. he knew it wouldn’t be easy to keep a relationship a secret from the pastor, especially with how overprotective the man was of his daughter. but he was willing to do it, to give you a chance to be happy and not live the way your father demanded. life’s too short, and you’re young and pretty. the thought of sneaking around with you, being your dirty little secret, made his heart thump in excitement. he was never one to play by the rules anyway.

“you mean like . . sneak around?”

“yeah. with your permission, of course.” 

for some reason, his intentions felt sexual. maybe he had heard the rumors and wanted to see what you were like and change that. you’re not a virgin, luckily the person who took it moved out of town therefore it remained a secret from everyone. he’s pretty to look at, nice on the eyes, fairly polite, and a flirt. but, you couldn’t put your finger on it. and if this was going to be a waste of your time, you surely didn’t want to risk your father finding out. 

so, you decline. “i gotta go, i’m sorry. it was nice meeting you though.” 

eren couldn’t help the slight grimace that appeared on his face when you extract your hand to give him a handshake. it felt so formal and . . cold. your dismissive tone and gesture made it seem like you were done, like you were giving up on the possibility of even interacting with him again. he wanted to question you further, but didn’t want to come off as pushy. 

“yeah, same to you.” 

while flashing a final smile, you push your cart around him to head for the check out counter. 

“when can i see you again?!” he shouts across the open market, hands cuffed around his mouth so you hear him loud and clear. 

“around!” 

eren felt a small ache of disappointment at your vague response, but couldn’t help but smile at the frantic pace you left him at. he knew he’d see you again, he’d make sure of it. two weeks passed and the city’s fair was bustling with the townships' people. one they held every year right before halloween. you’d volunteer to help your mom with her candy apple stand, taking any opportunity not to be stuck home studying. 

the county area was picturesque, a perfect example of the serene beauty of rural life. the fields stretched out as far as the eye could see, rolling hills dotted with occasional trees breaking up the endless stretches of greenery. cows and sheep could be seen grazing in the distance, their peaceful presence adding to the tranquility of the setting. the air was clean and crisp, carrying the scent of grass and wildflowers as the sun set into the night. the fair being held was a hive of activity. children running around laughing and excited chatter adding to the general din of the crowds. the smell of food wafted through the air, the scent of funnel cakes and other fried goods mingling with the underlying aroma of hay and dirt. bull rides and horse races occurring. 

eren found himself wandering through the fair, his thoughts preoccupied as he looked around. he didn’t really feel like playing games or participating in activities right now, he just wanted to clear his mind. but as he strolled past the laughing crowds of people, he paused, noticing a familiar figure nearby. his heart skipped a beat as he recognized you, and a small jolt of excitement coursed through him. your dressed in dark blue low rise affliction jeans that were flared towards the bottom along with a matching vest top and black western boots. a plain black cowboy hat atop of your head. your hairstyle changed completely the last time he saw you. it’s longer, reaching the middle of your back in soft, curly bora bora braids. you looked beautiful. straight out of a dream. a magazine even. 

the wind blows roughly, and from where he stood he could smell the gourmand of your perfume. he stopped only a few feet from you, shoving his hands in his pockets in an attempt to look casual. despite the outward appearance of coolness, his heart was beating fast against his chest, a mixture of anticipation and nervousness coursing through his veins. he hoped you’d be happy to see him again, but he also couldn’t shake the fear that you might reject him. . . again. 

you were stationed at a small booth, an array of freshly made candy apples neatly lined up for sale. the aroma of sweet, sticky apples mixed with the sugary coating filled the air. a woman who stood beside you who stole your entire face, or more-like you stole hers, taking orders from customers, dipping each apple into the thick, red coating before handing it over with a smile. as he drew closer to you, he plastered a careless smile on his face, trying to appear nonchalant. he raised a hand in greeting, waving at you casually.

“hey, what a coincidence.” 

catching his attention, the glint in your eyes reads more than your face does, discreetly giving flirty while your smile is faint. you’re stunned to see him, in fact. briefly eyeing your mother before speaking. “oh, hi! um. . . didn’t catch your name before.” 

“oh, uh. it’s eren. yeager. eren yeager.” 

he felt a slight flush of embarrassment as he said his name. he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to even introduce himself when he’d first met you. he’d been so eager to get to know you, to convince you to give him a chance, that he’d completely forgotten to mention his own name.

“right, how are you?” 

“uh, good. yeah, i'm good.” 

“are you here with family?” 

“nah, i’m here with some friends. they’re wandering off somewhere,” he says. “are you? is your father here?” 

“he isn’t, actually. i just volunteered to help my mom out with her stand!”

eren’s smile grew just a fraction bigger at your response. he was silently grateful to whatever divine entity was watching over him for keeping your father from being here. it gave him a chance to talk to you freely. 

“is that so? so you’re not being watched over right now?”

“i’m twenty, i don’t need to be watched.”

“point taken,” he purses his lips, eyes trailing over to your mother who was clearly ear-hustling. eren decides to introduce himself. “how you doin’, ma’am. it’s a pleasure meeting you.”

“oh, hello!” your mother smiled back, turning her body fully to take in his sudden attention. she’s just a smaller version of you, same pretty face now slowly wrinkling with time. gray kinky curly hair that grazes her shoulders. she’s dressed in a long navy blue dress painted with yellow daises, a white apron draped around her neck. she smiles at eren’s charming demeanor. “are you a friend of my daughter's?” 

he gave a small nod. "yes, that's right.” 

you could tell your mother scrutinized him for a moment, taking in his appearance. she could tell he was well-groomed and well-spoken, but she also had a watchful eye for any potential troublemakers. she glanced over at you, noting the way you were watching the interaction between the two of them, and then glanced back at eren.

“well it’s nice to meet you. i don’t believe you gave me your name,” she nodded in acknowledgment, her gaze still appraising him. 

“apologies. i’m eren yeager, ma’am.” 

she took in his name and the way he presented himself, weighing him silently in her mind. she was clearly being protective, trying to figure out if he was a suitable friend for you or not. you sigh deeply, twirling your fingers anxiously. eren notices. 

“ah, so you’re the eren i’ve heard about. the troublemaker.” 

“ma. .” you eye her, as if telling her not to start. 

he smiled innocently, a small hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. he didn't think he was quite as bad as the rumors might’ve made him out to be, but he also knew that he wasn't exactly the most picture-perfect person. 

“troublemaker, huh? didn’t know i was known for that. i can tell you that i'm the sweetest person you’ll know if that eases you.” 

“hm,” your mother squints suspiciously, a small giggle, surprising to you at least, coming from her. you blink at her, brows furrowing. does she find him sweet? “aren’t you charming. i hope you stand by your word.” 

this was becoming awkward for you. given the way you were raised and the household you grew up in, your mother was always the sweet one. stern when needed, but for the most part she let you be your own person. she still had heavy concerns for the people you chose to surround yourself with. and a man wasn’t exactly something she’d be ecstatic with. but with her sickness, and unknowing of the time she had left, she’d let her guard down to see you happy. if he were to break your heart, it’d only be a lesson you’d have to learn on your own. 

you remove your sight off of the pretty boy before you, the stand quieting down from attraction to hold her shoulder endearingly. “mama, would it be okay if i stepped away for a bit? just to talk.”

“just for a bit, alright? and make sure you’re only talking,” she says, throwing eren a warning glare. you groan, titling your head annoyingly. 

eren nodded in understanding, silently vowing not to do anything that would give your mother a reason to get between you two. the last thing he needed was a scolding from a protective parent, especially one as dedicated as yours. he already had to potentially worry about your father. he gave your mother a reassuring smile, hoping to ease her worry just a bit. “don’t worry, ma'am. we’re just going to head to the hoedown for a dance.” 

you shoot him a look, dancing sounds different from talking. he smirks. 

“alright, fine. but you be back before ten, okay? no funny business.” 

shaking your head, you give her a peck on the cheek. “promise mama. thank you.” 

“mhm hmm.” 

she watches eren step aside as you remove your apron, maneuvering around the stand as he elongates his arm with a gentle ‘after you’, the two of you strolling away, but not before you turn to look back, giving her a grateful yet giddy smile. your mother chuckles, waving and smiling back, her heart warming at the sight of eren reaching to hold your hand that you hesitated to take before giving in. she couldn’t help but think this was going to be trouble. 

“she seems nice,” eren mutters, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

you can’t help but roll your eyes. “yeah, she’s very sweet. just can be a bit overprotective.” 

“it’s good you have parents that care for you like that,” he replied, an almost sad tone in his voice. 

"yeah, they. . they're cool," you say, faltering slightly as you try to find the right words. “what about yours?” 

you look up at eren, trying to catch his eyes, but he's staring straight ahead, his jaw set and his expression closed off. it’s clear that he doesn't want to dive too deep into it, but you can't help but wonder what could've happened to make him react like this. he clears his throat uncomfortably, protectively holding you close as he guides you through the crowd. it makes your heart jump. 

“dad isn’t the best.” 

“. . oh.” 

the ranch slowly comes into view, the sounds of music thrumming louder as you approach. there’s a large, open space filled with people dressed in their best western attire, a sense of excitement and nervousness overtaking you. eren leads you through to make your way towards the center of the ranch, where the dancing and festivities are already in full swing. the music is lively and upbeat, couples twirling and spinning across the makeshift dance floor. others chugging down drinks at the bar. 

“you w’na show me how you move?” there’s a certain look in his eye, something else that you can't quite identify. his confidence is infectious. 

the crowds contagious, and it’s clear that everyone is having a great time. but you can’t help but fidget at the thought of dancing with someone you’re extremely attracted to. who smelt like patchouli, dressed in all black with tan, slightly roughed up cowboy boots. who’s smile is as bright as the moon, chocolate long hair making him look like the prettiest prince. it felt like a date. and technically, this would be your very first one. which, now that you’re thinking about it, is probably why your mom looked at you the way she did. 

you cower, biting your lip. “um, i . . can’t dance. at least the way they are.” 

eren raises his brow at your declaration. “really? hm.” 

you swallow when eren’s hand pulls you a little closer by your hip, gently resting there to guide you into position. "don't worry. i’ll lead, and you just follow. it’s not rocket science, right?"

“okay.” 

he starts to move, slowly guiding you into a basic step. despite your lack of knowledge, you try your best to keep up with him, your eyes glancing down at your feet every now and then out of fear of tripping. eren notices your hesitation and gives a small laugh. he keeps his arm around your waist, making sure you don't falter.

"relax. you’re doing fine. stop looking at your feet so much. you’re going to fall if you keep it up.” 

“sorry,” you giggle, your initial nerves starting to fall off as you let him guide you. 

he spins you around gracefully, his hand still firmly holding you in place. you're starting to get the hang of it, your body slowly moving in time to the music. the expression on eren’s face is a mix of amusement and pride; it's clear he's enjoying teaching you to dance. as the music changes to a slightly faster beat, he picks up the pace a bit, twirling you around with practiced ease. his steps are confident, his grip firm yet comfortable. you find yourself actually enjoying the experience, laughing at your own clumsy attempts to keep up with him. his smile widens, his eyes shining with a playful glint as he watches you. amused by your honest attempts of catching up. 

the music slows down eventually, and now plays a soft melody that has couples pulling each other closer to slow dance romantically. rolling your lips inward, you beam up at him with a soft chuckle. i’ll be by edwin mccain playing, and it happened to be one of your favorite songs. the moment becomes intimate, and eren makes a move to rest both hands on your lower back to pull you even closer so your chest touches his. the warmth from his body onto yours gives you goosebumps. it gets more romantic when he places your arms on his shoulder, your hands interlocking while his eyes lock onto yours. bodies swaying slowly with the melodious tune.

“don’t know if i told you how pretty you are.”

you can feel a flutter in your chest at the unexpected compliment. you turn your eyes away from him, a small smile playing on your lips as you try and hide your reaction. you can feel the warmth rising in your face, and you have a feeling he notices it too. “and i told you that you say that to all the girls.”

you’re unsure what switched, but his face grows calm, studying your face intently, hugging you closer as if you’d slip away. that makes you alert. “so . . your mother thinks i’m trouble. i’m not sure what you’ve heard about me. we do live in a small town so shit gets around, including rumors. but, what i’m worried about is how you perceive me.” 

the tone in his voice catches you off guard, his eyes fixed on yours with an almost vulnerable expression. “um, i haven’t heard anything about you to be honest. i don’t really stick my nose in drama, or the bullshit older folks gossip about. clearly, my mom knows, and i’ve heard something minor about your father. . i just — don’t want things like that to cloud my judgment of you. i’d wanna get to know you from you.”

he swallows, trying to contain his thankfulness. “seriously?” 

“yeah, i mean . .” you shrug shyly. “people don’t necessarily have many nice things to say about me or my family apparently. i guess you could say we’re two peas in a pod.” 

“outcasts,” eren prys in a small joke. 

“complicated, whatever. misconceptions everyone makes when they don’t know shit. if i get to know you, and get what i think we want to get from each other, and it turns out to be great or goes completely to shit? then that’s for me to decide when i’m ready.” 

“you’re absolutely right,” he sighs. “i fuckin’ hate this town sometimes. i’m twenty-three ‘n i feel like i'm stuck here. i just wanna run away and start a new life.” 

“i feel the same,” you weakly smile, thoughts flashing around in your head. “this doesn’t feel like home anymore. the community is perfect exterior-wise, but deep down everyone’s a little demented. and believe it or not, my life is miserable. my father’s too overbearing, my mom's sick. they have these high expectations of me, like going to college and honoring the family’s name. but, i’m starting to realize it’s not what i want anymore. i’m only doing it to please them. my father legit made me take a year off just to make sure i’m fully prepared for college.”

“has your father always been strict like that?” eren switches with you as more people make way on the floor, facing south now. the star lights hung on the ceiling setting the mood as more love music played. 

“since i was a kid, yeah. he’s always had these values he believed we should uphold. ‘keeping’ the families guidance, child’ he would say,” eren watches you chuckle dryly, his jaw clenching. “often times i wonder why my mother married someone like him when she’s the complete opposite. i’m guessing he was different when they were younger. sometimes i think i ruined their love.” 

“don’t think that, ꒰♡꒱,” hearing your name come from him made you squeeze his hand tighter, oddly feeling comforted. “whatever problems they have aren’t because of you. they decided to bring you into this world, therefore it’s their job to raise you to be the best you can be. and i think you’re great, and you can think for yourself and do whatever you want with your life.” 

“thank you, eren.” 

“mhm,” eren searches your face continuously, memorizing every detail of expression. for future notes. “do you think he’s so hard on you because he never got the opportunities you have? or ‘cause, you know, you’re his only girl?” eren asks. 

instantly, you nod. “yeah, that’s definitely it. he’s afraid to make a mistake. granted, he’s made a few already. no parent is perfect, but it’d be nice if he’d see me as the adult i am now and not just his baby girl. or perceive me as this sweet little church girl whose only values in life are to please her parents and have awards to hang in the house to boast about when we get visitors.” 

“that’s gotta be hard, i’m sorry.” 

“it’s okay. i’d also be the first in my family to attend college. i got offered a scholarship to brown, which is why he has me studying till i bleed. figuratively, of course.” 

“wow, an ivy league. that’s big.” 

“thanks, i’m a genius,” you roll your eyes sarcastically. your hands drop from his neck, entwining your right hand with his left, eren wrapping his arm around your waist as you two dance that way. “your hands are really soft.” 

“all that butter i be churnin’,” he cackles. his face grows serious once more, and yet again you’re unable to read him. “listen, so . . i w’na tell you that i really am drawn to you. i like you, ‘n i’d like to get to know you. who knows, maybe one day we can run away together from our lives here, some cliché shit like that.” 

“i . . yeah. i really wanna get to know you, too.”

“ooh, you likin’ me?” he flirts. 

you can't help but give him a small smile, your cheeks flushing slightly. this lovesick feeling you get around him was something you’d only read about in novels hauled up in your bedroom to escape reality. it felt nice. 

"maybe i am. what if i am?"

"i like the sound of that," he replies, his voice a soft murmur just above your ear. "i like it a lot, actually."

you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the closeness making your heartbeat quicken. you try to tell yourself that it's just the dance, just the music, that's making you feel this way, but deep down, you know it's more than that. something about eren, something about the way he's looking at you right now, is stirring up feelings you haven't felt before.

“you know," he says, his voice low and intimate, "would it be too early for me to ask to kiss you?”

and that followed up with more forbidden kisses. the two of you tried to see each other four days out of the week, of course, sunday’s being off limits. you’d run to the market for your mother and spend most of your time at eren’s farm feeding the animals and helping him work. making up an excuse when your mother asked why you took so long. the two of you decided it was best to keep your relationship private from both your mother and father until the time was right. there are nights when you would sneak out when your parents were sleeping to make out in the back of his pickup truck under the stars. 

play fighting in the lake, writing each other love letters, running into his arms whenever you saw him while he spun you around and held you tight. every moment spent with him felt like a novel. every kiss feels like a risk, every touch like a secret act of rebellion. living a double life pretending to be just friends. the intimacy of stolen moments you share is like a secret language, a bond forged by the very secrecy that threatens to keep you apart. a month into the relationship, eren surprised you with a date at the same ranch where you shared your first dance. decorating the back of his truck with blankets, pillows, and tons of snacks for a drive-in movie casting on the back of the ranch. he made love to you for the first time that night. 

pastor kain and most of the god-fearing parents in this town knew that eren had a reputation for being rowdy and a sweet talker with the girls. he’s not necessarily someone they’d see their daughter for. and eren will admit he’s made some poor decisions in life, but that didn’t make up for who he was deep inside. nobody knew him. they only knew the surface level of what was spoken of him and his family. the yeager's. eren practically runs the farm that’s in his mother’s name, working his ass off every day while his father wastes himself in heavy liquor on the living room couch. he could’ve left a long time ago, but his attachment to his mother and what she built refused to let him pull away. 

his father made a few public appearances that tarnished their family name further. altercations with good people in town for giving him dirty looks or speaking with ill intent on his son. a father forever, but a horrible dad through and through. his reputation already ruined eren’s. a lot of people assumed he’d be exactly like his father; a drunk, and an abuser. his mother going without peace in a horrible fight between the two causing her heart attack. eren hates that he can’t let him go, having a few nasty fist fights himself. maybe he’s hoping he’d get better one day and be someone. but that was far from what will happen. 

eventually, you and eren sneaking around had to end when word got out about it through your father’s church; an older woman calling you a slut and stating that you’ll be no good dealing with a yeager. it’s clear they were truly disliked in this town full of idiots and sinners themselves. ‘holier than thou, up their asses, pretentious dicks!’ is what eren had to say about it. you and your father had one of the worst arguments of your life. a total scream fest when he found out. 

eren sat outside in his truck, anxiously bouncing his leg, eventually exiting to pace around on your porch. you come out with tears streaming down your face, eyes red and puffy. eren falls apart, cooing ‘awe, baby’ before embracing you into a tight hug, his strong arms burying your face into the warmth of his chest. 

“he just doesn’t understand. i don’t get why he doesn’t understand,” you choke on your sobs, eren brushing a hand down the back of your head, kissing it after. 

“let me talk to him,” eren suggests, and instantly you’re disagreeing, backing away and trembling. 

“no, eren. i told you, nothing we can say will get through to him. he’s fuckin’ hopeless!” 

“kain, stop it!” your mother’s frantic voice could be heard shouting at your father from inside, glass being thrown out of anger. 

the blood flows through eren’s veins viscerally, an intense feeling settling within him, bringing back memories of his own mother. the booming voices of his father and items being tossed, knocked down, or torn. without another word, he’s rushing into your home intending to set things straight. you panic, following his lead, unaware of what he is capable of when angry. you’ve never seen him on that level before. you knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t put his hands on your parent, and he was respectful to show proper communication. 

“eren!” your voice croaks, tailgating him as he approaches your father’s office where the commotion ensues. 

“he’s corrupting our child! why can’t you see that?!” 

eren stands tall, pulling you behind him protectively as he meets pastor kain’s accusing glare with unwavering determination. 

“who told you to step foot into my home, boy?” pastor kain grits, your mother standing idly beside him, pain wretched over her face. your lips begin to tremble, hating seeing her that way. you never wanted this to be the outcome. you just wanted to love this man. why should you be punished for that? 

“corrupting her?” eren chooses to ignore his statement and cut to the main issue. “sir, with all due respect, it’s not your decision to say who she can ‘n cannot be with. i have no intent to hurt her, which is exactly what you’re doing right now. we've made choices based on what's best for us, for our future. ‘n while those choices may differ from what you had planned, they are ours to make.”  

“and who gave you permission to include yourself into my daughter's plans?” the man snarled, eyeing you as you sob behind eren aggressively. your cries paining eren’s heart. you were too broken to stand up for yourself right now. feeling like you’ve been doing that for your entire existence. it felt safe to have eren handle things for you. 

“she did, because she’s an adult and i will marry her whether you give us your blessing or not,” his voice rises, tinged with a hint of defiance. the word marriage drives your father into madness. “i will never apologize for loving your daughter, for wanting to build a life with her. if that makes me a bad decision in your eyes, then so be it. but i refuse to let you dictate the course of our happiness.” 

his gaze shifted towards you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and disappointment. the tension hung heavy in the air, the weight of their disagreement pressing down upon them. yet amidst the conflict, there was an undercurrent of love and concern, a testament to the complex bond that existed between father and daughter. your father holds a hand to his heart as if it’s torn, strolling around his brown desk to take a seat. 

“you’re going to let him speak for you, ꒰♡꒱. speak to me like this? there’s no respect for me anymore?” 

your sniffles are loud, removing your face from the middle of eren’s broad back to stand your ground, elevating your head and clutching his hand tighter. “i truly don’t know what else i can say to you, daddy. i’m not fond of the life you have planned for me. i will always be your daughter, but i can’t and will not be this little girl you want to have control over. i am an adult, therefore you have to treat me as such. i no longer want to attend college because of my own decision. it was always your dream, not mine. eren had nothing to do with these transitions. i am allowed to love whomever i please.” 

the room falls silent as your parents stare at you, your mother placing her hands over her chest with loving despair. she herself has made multiple attempts to try and change her husband's point of view, but nothing surpasses. eren glances at you, eyes shining with adoration and protectiveness. 

“it’s not that i won’t let you live your life. it’s that i don’t approve of who you’re trying to give your life to. what can he do for you?” 

eren feels a sense of inferiority. “i may not come from wealth, but i am not a man of indolence. your daughter is a remarkable woman who deserves everything she wishes for. she knows her own mind ‘n heart, ‘n she's chosen me. ‘n i love her for that. i’m not belittling your concerns, but i can not, in good conscience, abandon the woman i love’ needs. we may not fit the mold you've envisioned, but i love her and will continue to whether you disapprove or not. i will provide for her, take care of her. she never has to lift a finger while with me.” 

pastor kain’s face contorted in anguish, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world bore down upon him. he looked at you, then at eren, his eyes searching for some glimmer of understanding, some shred of compromise.

“oh lord, have mercy on us all,” with a heavy sigh, he turned away, his voice barely audible as he spoke. “you’ve made your choice clear, ꒰♡꒱. you’re choosing to leave the only home you've ever known, turnin' your back on the only family you've ever had. and for what? a fleeting romance with a man who can't even provide you with a stable future? someone rowdy with a poor excuse of a father? a flirt who can’t handle his greed for women? you want me to be happy for you? for this? he ain’t good for you, baby girl. and i will stand by that for as long as i breathe.” 

that’s when all of you equally realized that no matter what was said, his opinion will remain one sided. admitting defeat as a whole. anything that was said completely flew over his head, and only his view mattered. it’s narcissistic, and bizarre. eren was baffled, in fact. 

the waves of pain crash down on you, wishing he would just understand you, and be happy for you. to approve and give his blessings. to tell you that the man you’re in love with is good for you. eren holds you as your body grows weak, almost falling over. it’s clear the effect this had on you, and he fucking hated it. 

“i just want you to . . you don’t even k-know him.” 

he shook his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i fear for your soul, my dear.” 

i fear for your soul. that haunted your dreams like nothing else ever had. it was by far the vilest thing you’d ever heard your father say to you. it made you cry for days on end. breaking your heart over and over again. weakening since the moment you’d packed your suitcase and said goodbye to your mother. you no longer saw your father as family. giving her a heartfelt embrace and kissing your home goodbye. four months later, your mother passed away. regret ached at you for not seeing her as much after you left with eren. you’d seen her only a few times after the horrible fight, spending the day with her as she gave eren an extreme apology as well as her approval. she prayed you’d forgive your father, to give him grace. 

the last time you saw your father was at your mother’s funeral. and the look on his face remained the same towards eren; disgust. you still loved your father a great deal, but the respect no longer resides. you’d comfort him, check on him occasionally, but keep your distance to protect your peace. after your mother received a beautiful burial, you continued your future with eren. marrying in secrecy two months later. in the aftermath of loss, the two of you found solace in each other. amidst the grief and chaos, your love became a beacon of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest times, there could still be beauty. so, in a quiet ceremony surrounded by close friends, you vowed to spend the rest of your lives together. 

as you exchanged rings and sealed your union with a kiss, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. for a moment, nothing else mattered except the love you shared, the future you would build together. a good thing that came out of this was eren’s father getting clean and giving him a letter from his mother he’d kept hidden on his own accord. a title for land she’d purchased just for him to do what he pleased. eren’s father held down the farm while eren decided to build your dream home on the new land. and he stood by his word. 

it was hard for eren to forgive his father, but he appreciated that he wanted to be better. it’d never bring his mother back, nor heal the bruises on his heart, but it was something. once he built this home for the two of you, he’d never have to see him again. it seemed like both of you were running away from your father’s. it was scary how somewhat similar your situations were. you became acquainted with his father out of respect, helping with the farm to pass time as eren focused on building the house with his friends. it helped you clear your mind surprisingly, always adoring animals and gardening. it’s something you wanted to do once the house was ready as a hobby. 

some days were really hard, grieving not only the death of your mother but the separation from your father. you felt bad for the many nights you cried in eren’s arms about it. luckily he didn’t invalidate your feelings. he constantly reassured you that everything you felt was natural, and he had no problem comforting you on your lowest days. and that if anyone understood the pain of losing a mother, it’d be him. he truly was your angel. who would’ve thought a man you’d met at a market one random day would be the one you’d spend the rest of your life with. 

eren spent an entire year and a half building a charming little cottage nestled in a scenic countryside setting out of town, about an hour. it’s a cozy, quaint structure with a warm, homey feeling. the exterior is made of white wood, front adorned by a wrap-around porch, blue shutters, and a few flowers in pots. the windows are large and welcoming, bringing in natural light and a lovely view of the surrounding landscape. he’d built your dream kitchen, tall windows overlooking the garden. a bathroom with a clawfoot tub and double sinks. and a library so you could read and write. he did it all. 

you stood beside him, hand resting on the small of his back as you surveyed your new home. 

"this is perfect," you whispered, voice filled with emotion as tears well in your eyes. “it’s everything i’ve ever wanted, eren. thank you.” 

eren turned to you, his eyes shining with love and pride. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. the scent of your perfume mingled with the earthy aroma of nature filling his senses with comfort.

“i meant what i said, i'd do anything to make you happy,” he murmured, breath tickling your skin. he tilts your chin up, gaze locking with yours as he brushes a stray curl behind your ear, the tears falling down your brown cheeks. “you’re the most important thing in my life, and now we get to share this space, these memories, everything. together."

‎‎               𐦍

a storm is raging outside on the day of your anniversary, and it only raises your anxiety for your husband currently working in this weather. you’d set up the dining area to surprise eren, spending hours in the kitchen to perfect the tastiest meal. you’d always be sure to welcome him home with a good meal after hard labor. talks of the storm have been on a loop, playing on the living room tv repeatedly. one of your worst fears was a natural disaster. for it to possibly happen today of all days felt like a big joke. 

you’ve been trying to keep your mind off it, praying for eren’s safety while anxiously nibbling at your cross necklace. you’ve tried to contact him a few times, but gotten no response. assuming he was busy, you left it alone, knowing he’d get back to you as soon as he was available. service was probably terrible out there. within the next moment, as you set the oven to three sixty-five and placed the round cake pan in, the sound of the front door swinging open alerts you. you hear that familiar sound of house keys jangling, and your heart nearly combusts at the realization that your husband made it home. 

the oven mitts come off, and immediately you’re bolting towards the living room; a sweet scent of roses wafting up from the extreme wind blowing into the house and the bouquet in his hand. “where you at, baby? i’m home!” 

his voice calling out to you makes you giggle, echoing through the warm house. a few seconds later, you emerged from the archway, a smile beaming on your pretty face as you ran into his arms, eren chuckling as he caught you and your legs wrapped around his waist. kissing at his face in relief.

“baby, i was so, so nervous. the storms gettin’ worse by the day. i thought you were stuck somewhere. you weren’t answering your phone ‘n i got so scareddd,” you bury your face in the crook of his tatted neck, nearly sobbing as you clutch him tight. 

it’s true, the weather was horrible. trees knocking down, power going out, roads blocked. it happened out of the blue. they’re saying a hurricane is a high possibility. why you’re finding out last minute? who fucking knows. unfortunately, he was on the clock today working at the plant, his highlighted yellow vest adorned on his shoulders as he stepped himself out of his dirty timberlands. luckily they were collectively told to head home early for safety reasons. 

“oh, darlin’, i’m alright. my body’s intact,” he kisses your cheek. “i told you to stop watchin’ the news. it makes you more sensitive.” 

he sets you down slowly, your bare feet hitting the ground while you pout up at him. your curls were tousled as if you'd just rolled out of bed, but you looked beautiful, breath catching in his throat actually. especially dressed up in this dark red two-piece set. cute ruffled shorts and a skimpy bra accentuating your every curve in a way that left little to the imagination. the swell of your ass, hips, and thickness of your thighs that touch swallows the material salaciously. your skin is smooth, always. scented with dewberries and magnolia. 

“fuck, baby,” he breathed, voice low and husky as his hand slips down to grip your ass, spanking you hard as you squeak. “i like this on you. you look pretty.” 

“thank you, baby,” your eyes sparkle with affection. “i wanted today to be special. i made dinner and all. but the storm had me shittin’ myself.” 

“that’s why i gotcha these before the flower shop closed. well, i ordered ‘em ahead of time ‘n miss valerie let me pick ‘em up,” eren hands you the assortment of flowers in his hand, blooming red roses and cream calla lilies swarmed in black wrapping paper. you take them, adoringly jutting out your lower lip more. “happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

“you’re such a sweetie, rennie,” you lay your chin on his chest, leaning into him while looking up at him with puppy eyes. “thank you.” 

“mhm hmm,” eren loses focus already, clutching the side of your face before leveling his neck lower to capture your lips in a searing kiss, bottom lip dropping to enclose your mouth with his. 

the kiss is slow and filled with passion, eyes shutting in sync as you moan from his taste. he smelt like he’d done hard labor and the musk of his cologne he’d spritzed at six in the morning, but you loved it. every time. your fantasies just get more disgusting as you age. the heavy toolbelt that’s sliding down his hips, the white crewneck, slightly stained with patches of oil almost eating up his muscles, showcasing his tatted right arm and neck. wedding band around his finger as he holds your face to aggressively kiss your smaller frame. he’s forever hot. 

the savory aroma of dinner wafted up from the oven, momentarily breaking the spell. with a groan, he reluctantly pulled back, eyes never leaving yours. "i smell food.” 

"well, since you've gone through all that trouble, i showed my appreciation properly." 

as you drag him towards the dining room, his gaze falls upon the beautifully set table, the flickering candlelight casting a romantic glow across the darkly lit room. confetti littered the surface, a whimsical touch that added to the celebratory atmosphere. a chilled bottle of wine sat in a silver bucket. he watched you slip on your oven mitts to retrieve the food you were keeping warm. eren surveys the spread, the tantalizing aroma of perfectly steamed lobster claws glistened with butter, while the filet mignon looked pink and juicy. his stomach growls with anticipation, only eating the lunch you packed for him earlier in the day containing birria ramen and pork dumplings. 

“damn, you always do so well. good job, baby,” he marveled, heart swelling with admiration for your thoughtfulness. his praises making your face heat up. he does it so much you’re not sure if he realizes how it makes you feel. "everything looks so good. let me jus’ shower real quick ‘n we can dig in, yeah?” 

“noo,” you protest. eren arches a brow. with a flourish, you poured two glasses, the rich red liquid swirling seductively in the crystal bowls. “love you like this.” 

eren cracks a smirk, sucking his teeth in amusement. “you’re so dirty, girl.” 

"you like it,” you raise your glass in a silent salute. “come eat. i need you thick.” 

“shut it.” 

you scream as he hits your ass playfully, sneaking behind you to kiss your cheek while you snort, eren pulling out your chair like a gentleman so you can sit, soon taking his adjacent to you. for the next hour the two of you enjoyed each other's company, laughing in faces, getting tipsy, love bites and sensual touching . . the usual. eren thanked you repeatedly for how good the food was, soothing old-school rnb playing soundly low in the background while he washed the dishes as you spread chocolate icing on the cake you baked. it was a moment of simple domesticity, a glimpse into the everyday life you’d built together. once the last plate was put away, your husband dried his hands and turned to face you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he watched you sip your wine while you spread the icing spatula over the cake, humming to the tune. 

slowly, he approaches you, coming behind you and planting kisses along your neck, your hand dropping the spatula while your eyes falter shut. his kisses are filthy, his hands groping you to push your ass back onto the outline of his dick now hard in his jeans for a while. he slowly trails a hand up your throat to clutch, pushing you against the counter nearly bending you over fully. 

you moan, rubbing your ass back on him as his hands roam over your body, a wine glass in your hand as you close your eyes and rest your head on his shoulder. you reached beside yourself, fingers trailing lightly down his forearm where his hand slips in between your thighs, groaning on your skin as he rocks his erection against the shape of your ass. a delicate gasp falls from you, setting your wine glass down and hooking your arm behind yourself to hold his head in place. 

“c’mere,” eren licks his lips, your skin prickling with heat as he guides you closer to him by your abdomen, spreading your thighs further apart to slot his fingers into your ruffled bloomers. 

his teeth nip at your earlobe while he grunts and rolls the pads of his rough fingers against your clit, a cute sound emitting from your mouth. your jaw is agape, eren hissing when you tug at his hair the minute he’s sliding his middle fingers into your pussy, stretching you open as his thumb strums your clit, tugging your bloomers down to your knees with the hook of his thumb. instantly, you’re falling apart. moans breaking out in short whimpers and high gasps, grinding into his palm. eren arches over you, free hand palming the countertop which your hand rests over to grab for leverage, wedding bands touching, his breath heavy on your flushed skin.  

"there we go, take it baby,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with desire and encouragement. he leans in to capture your lips in a slow, sensual kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to mingle with yours. 

“babyy,” you’re whimpering, his fingers long and entirely deep inside of you. the loud squelch of your pussy fueling him. 

eren’s fingers scissor and curl to hit that perfect spot inside you, your moans growing louder, hips rocking to match his rhythm. the dual stimulation of his fingers fucking you while he thumbs at your clit has your body trembling with anticipation, the wine in both of your systems heightening every feeling. the desperate clench around his fingers only increases his efforts, pumping his fingers faster and applying more pressure to your sensitive bud.

the sudden insistent knocking at the door shattered the intimate mood. you froze, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes shot open to glance at him, a mix of annoyance and concern etched on his features as you watch his jaw clench. he wants to ignore it, but the worry on your face tells him not to. he’s groaning. 

“the hell could that be?" he muttered under his breath, your mind racing with possibilities. it wasn't uncommon for neighbors to stop by, but during a severe storm? you’d think everyone would be hauled up at home. 

groaning yourself, you fix yourself up, scrunching your face from the uncomfortable feeling of wetness sticking between your thighs. wanting to stomp in irritation, you go to grab a soapy towelette as eren’s too busy licking you clean off his fingers while shaking your head and wiping his hand. 

“do you think it could be the county police? maybe they’re checking to see if everyone’s safe,” you say, going to search for one of eren’s oversized hoodies to toss over your head and cover your body appropriately. 

“could be. i heard a few people’s had their power knocked out. i’m hoping we won’t have to evacuate.” 

eren takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever interruption awaited. with a reluctant sigh, he strode towards the front door once you were ready. as he unlocked it, he made sure to securely have a tight grip on it since the wind was ridiculous out. the last thing the two of you expected was to see a familiar face awaiting, going into shock as you see your father standing on the other side, his gaze sweeping over eren before settling onto you. 

“pastor,” eren greeted him curtly, trying to keep his tone neutral despite the annoyance simmering beneath the surface. he steps aside, letting the man inside so he wouldn’t get knocked over by the raging winds. “come in if you must.” 

eren shuts the door, standing tall next to you. he’s confused why he’s here, hoping his visit wasn’t a thinly veiled attempt to criticize his relationship with you once again. then again, it’s been three years since he’s personally seen him. of course you kept him in your life, just extremely briefly. you stand beside eren, feeling his tension and bracing yourself for an uncomfortable confrontation. pastor kain’s presence fills the room with an awkward heaviness, and you can almost sense the disapproval radiating off him in palpable waves.

“daddy, what are you doing here?" you ask softly, worry and curiosity inked in your voice. 

as pastor kain stepped further into the house, his eyes roamed the space, taking in the evidence of you and your husband’s shared life together. the cozy living room, adorned with photos of you two, hinted at the love and connection you’d built. the faint scent of the dinner you had not long ago, a reminder of the domestic bliss you’d created.

“i was in the neighborhood and wanted to see my daughter. the storm’s really bad, and i got worried. hopefully i'm not interrupting anything.” 

your eyes soften, smiling faintly. "thank you for doing that. i’m glad you stopped by. but you should be home. why were you out in this weather?” 

“had to drop cherry off at the vet, she ain’t doing too good,” your father frowned, the mention of the dog he’d gotten a while after your mother passed makes you sympathize. 

“oh, i’m sorry to hear that. she gon’ be okay?” 

“can’t say for sure. she been havin’ a lot of stomach problems, uh . .” he quickly clears his throat as if to cover up his pain. you weakly smile, rubbing his arm. 

“hey, no need to explain. i’m prayin’ she’ll be okay. it’s nice to see you, um . . eren and i were just celebrating our anniversary. would you like to join us for dessert?” you gesture towards the kitchen where a decadent chocolate on chocolate cake sits on the counter. 

eren watched pastor kain’s expression closely, gauging his reaction to the invitation. when he hesitated, eren couldn't help but feel a flicker of irritation. 

“sure, why not?" pastor kain replied gruffly, his gaze lingering on the cake before meeting eren’s eyes. "but just a slice, i shouldn't impose."

eren bit back a retort, choosing instead to lead the way to the kitchen. he motions for the two of you to take a seat at the dining table while he cuts a generous portion for each of you. it's silent until he comes back.

“here you go, sir,” eren says, handing him a plate with a warm smile. 

“ ‘preciate you.” 

eren nods formally, leaning against the counter, observing the interaction between you and your father with a mix of curiosity and caution. 

“how’ve you been? i know last time i saw you, you were attending therapy. is that going well?” you ask. 

“it’s been . . difficult," pastor kain admitted, his voice cracking slightly as he set his fork down. he rubbed the back of his neck, a sign of discomfort or perhaps guilt. "losing your mother was a blow, and then dealing with your decision to . . leave home. .” 

he trailed off, gaze drifting to you before returning to meet eren’s eyes. there was a depth of sorrow in his eyes that he hadn't seen before, and for a moment, eren almost felt sorry for the man. the topic of your mother is still hard for you, eren coming over to sit beside you to entwine his fingers with yours to give you comfort. 

“i miss her every day," pastor kain continued, his voice barely above a whisper. your heart aches to hear your father's admission, and you reach out instinctively to lay a comforting hand on his. despite your differences, you know the pain of losing your mother is something you share deeply.

"i miss her too, daddy," you say softly, voice thick with emotion. "every single day. but, she would want us all to be happy, and live life to the fullest. she told me so after . . everything.” 

the thought of the altercation makes you all shift uncomfortably, hating that night. “we both care about you very much. i know things haven't always been easy between us, but . . i hope we can find a way to mend those bridges."

“that’s another thing i’ve been discussing with my therapist,” he sighs. “we talk about that night often, and somehow it still stirs something . . awful in me. though time has passed, i still don't approve of you disappearing with this man while giving me the short end of the stick with only minimal check-ins."

that makes eren flinch, feeling a sting of defensiveness rise within him. clenching his jaw, he stares intently at your father. just waiting for him to really try it. at this point in time, he gave no fucks about respect. eren knows you can stand up for yourself, but he won’t hesitate to set him straight. 

"leaving wasn't easy for me, you know that, as i’ve said before. i loved mom so much, and i didn't want to abandon you. but i also needed to follow my heart and build a life with someone who accepts me for who i am. you’re still upset about us eloping, alright. but that doesn't mean our love is any less real. i mean, of all days, you really chose to do this today?” 

“i’m not saying your love isn’t real,” pastor kain said, his tone softening slightly as he realized he was already upsetting you. it’s something he’s trying to work on. he sighed heavily, running a hand through his gray hair. “i just miss my little girl. the one who used to sit on my lap during sermons, who helped me prepare for sunday mornings. you grew up too fast, baby girl. left me behind. for this man i barely know.” 

your heart clenches at the raw emotion in your father's voice, and you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, getting irritated by your sensitivity. his words still sting, a painful reminder of the distance that has grown between you over the years. eren doesn’t appreciate the way he’s making you feel, easily getting triggered. 

“forgive me for intruding, but i don’t appreciate the disrespect you have towards me or my wife.” eren budges in, his intervention catching you off guard. you face him with wide eyes, silently urging him to tread carefully. while you appreciate his protectiveness, you don't want him to further alienate your father.

"it’s okay, eren," you murmur, placing a calming hand on his chest. he looks at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“no, it’s not okay, ꒰♡꒱,” eren stops you. “i've grown tired of being disrespected 'n judged based on your father's misconceptions of me. you don’t know me because you haven’t tried to get to.” 

a challenge simmers in the dark depths of his eyes as he stares at your father.  “if you truly care about your daughter's happiness, then you should be supporting her choices, not tryin’ to tear them down with your outdated beliefs.”

“with all do respect, eren, she’s still my daughter.”

“actually, no,” eren jumps back in, his jaw clenching, a hint of steel underlying his words. “this is my wife, and this is our house. if you choose not to respect it then you can kindly see yourself outta that door. i don’t understand your mindset when it comes to knockin’ down your daughter's happiness, nor do i understand holdin’ me accountable for shit i did as a stupid kid.”

“that doesn't change the fact that you stole my daughter from me and married her outside of her faith. it goes against everything I've taught her. and you aren't even a christian, it’s not according to god’s plan."

“where is this even coming from?” you scrunch up your face in disgust, eyes piercing at him. “why are you still being like this after all these years?” 

“i’m not tryin’ to cause an argument. i talked to god and realized i should come forward with issues that are bothering me, and find solace. and that’s what i’m doin’.” 

“by still hurting me?” 

“i’ll say it again,” eren cuts back in. “she’s my wife. put aside your religious beliefs and respect that as a man,” eren scoffs. “we may not have married under oath, but it happened. so deal with it.” 

“i would respect you a lot more if you gave my daughter the proper marriage with her family. especially after her mother died. maybe i’d forgive all your other sins. this goes against her family’s unity,” pastor kain snarls. 

“dad, enough,” your eyes squeeze tight. he’s ruining your day. “this is getting out of hand now. .” 

eren pinches the bridge of his nose, ready to swing at this point. "pastor kain, i understand that my past mistakes have given you a reason to doubt me. but i'm not that same reckless kid anymore, clearly. i've worked hard to build this home for us ‘n keep it. everything i’ve done from the moment i met her to now, has been for her. so here’s what’s gon’ happen. you either start respecting your daughter’s choices and accepting me as part of this family, or you can kindly remove yourself from her life. because i won’t tolerate disrespect towards her, especially not in my home.”

as eren speaks, you instinctively reach out and intertwine your fingers with his, feeling the warmth and solidity of his touch. pastor kain’s expression remains stoic, but you sense a crack in the armor of his rigid beliefs. perhaps, just perhaps, eren’s sincerity and your own steadfastness are beginning to chip away at the walls of resistance. 

“and if you can’t accept me, then maybe it’s time for you to reexamine your own faith and values. because the way you’re treating your daughter, i wouldn’t say it’s christian of you at all. so i implore you, for her sake, let go of your preconceived notions.” 

the air goes quiet for a while, eren staring at your father blankly while you gather your thoughts and caress his hand. it doesn’t take long for your father to push back his chair, the wood slightly scraping the floor as he rises up. 

“i apologize, to both of you. truly,” he swallows, bowing his head. “i’ve made plenty of mistakes i’m not proud of. the biggest one running my daughter away from home. i am trying to do better, i am. my old habits seep out unexpectedly. i think deep down my blessings were always with you two, i just have selfish tendencies. i am deeply sorry, eren.” 

eren isn’t sure if this is a facade, or if the man is being genuine. his lips are pressed into a straight line, nodding once but having no more words. he’d accept it, but the matter of if he was willing to change and show proof remained. 

“right,” he smiles weakly. “and i'm sorry to you, ꒰♡꒱. i’ve never meant to hurt you, granted i have many times. i will continue to repent for my sins. and i hope one day you can forgive me. i will let you two enjoy the rest of your day, i'm sorry to intrude.” 

pastor kain gives one more smile to you both before turning his back away and heading towards the front door. you’re frozen in your spot, your heart telling you to bring him back because it wasn’t safe. 

“we can’t let him go,” you turn to eren, anxiousness written all over your face. “eren, it’s really dangerous out there. what if something happens to him?” 

eren sighs, leaning in to kiss your forehead before standing to follow behind him. his hand is on the nozzle of the door before eren’s speaking up, clearing his throat to rid the still pent up animosity. 

“you can stay the night. i won’t let you travel in that storm.” 

pastor kain breathed in. “no, no. it’s completely fine. i’ve already overstayed my wel—”

“i insist,” eren finalizes, blinking slowly. “꒰♡꒱ will lose her shit if you drivin’ in that. you know she’s terrified of storms.” 

a few minutes pass and your father sits on the living room couch with eren making conversation, surprisingly. you can tell your father is trying to get to know him, and being respectful. you zone out for the most part, this day feeling long and getting to you. you decide to fix him a plate of leftover food you had and making everyone hot chocolate to ease the stress. it’s getting extremely late now, almost near midnight and your father grows tired. 

“we can take the sofa. you head upstairs and get comfortable,” you smile at your father, eren glaring down at you as you hook your arm with his.

eren’s jaw tightens slightly at the suggestion, but he quickly masks his irritation with a polite smile. he knows it's the right thing to offer your father the bed, despite his own desires to share a more intimate space with you. the house was built specifically for both of your comfortability since the two of you had long decided kids weren’t for you, being satisfied without. 

"that’s very kind of you, darlin’," eren says, his voice smooth and measured. “i think your father will appreciate that, huh?” 

“mhm hmm,” you nod sheepishly. “there are clean towels and washcloths in the closet by the bathroom. we’ll be down here if you need anything.” 

“think i’ll manage, baby girl. thank you.” 

your father gives you a sweet hug and a delicate forehead kiss before smiling at eren and giving him a handshake. “thank you.” 

“no problem.” 

eren sighs deeply once he’s fully upstairs, grumbling, ‘gotta take a piss’ before he’s heading to the second bathroom around the hall. you gather extra blankets from the coat closet, cutting off the lights while snuggling into the pillow soft couch watching adult cartoons. it’s been a hell of a day, and you wanted nothing more than to ignore the horrible weather outside and sleep next to your man. the white noise of the staticky television nearly has you drifting off to sleep, that is until thirty minutes later you’re woken up by eren sliding next to you.  

as the two of you settle in for the night, eren pulls you close on the cloud white couch, his strong arms enveloping you in a comforting embrace. despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, he whispers softly into your ear, “you alright, sweetheart?” 

you can smell the body wash on his skin, his hair pulled back into a bun as he kisses your cheek and hums, bear hugging you. sighing deeply, you nuzzle your face into his neck, trying to block out the raging rain outside that’s stressing you out on top of current events. “i’m okay. today was really a lot. i’m sorry about that.” 

eren furrows his brows. “now you know you shouldn’t be apologizing for him. he can’t control himself, n’ that’s not your priority. i meant what i said by protecting you from any n’ everybody that brings you negativity. i’m not with that. he needs to respect you, especially in this house.” 

“as well as you,” you bat your lashes up at him, rubbing his chin. “i hate that he talked to you like that. after all this time, i thought he’d change. i knew deep down he still felt some way since he never brings you up when i visit. doesn’t ask me about us . . nothing. i guess it’s a start that he apologized? and made conversation? but to come here saying you w’na check on me, then proceed to disrespect us?” 

eren sighs. “unfortunately, you can’t ever fully change a person. i’ll take the apology, but it’s g’na take a lot more than that for me to even consider him a father in law.” 

you stare longingly at his face. “i am grateful that you stood your ground and protected us. that’s very attractive.” 

eren grins. “you’re my wife, ꒰♡꒱. forever. ima always make sure you come first.” 

graciously, you smile, leaning in to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. “thank you, baby. truly. you’ve been the most beautiful, kindest, loving person in my life. i love that you protect me, take care of me, provide and support me. i love you dearly.” 

“of course, baby. i love you too,” he replies, smudging his nose against yours. “my sweetheart. you mean everything to me. you saved me.” 

“stop,” you frown. “you’re gonna make me cry. yuck.” 

eren nudges his knuckles against your chin with a click of his tongue. “cut that. you’re a strong girl.” 

you hum, turning your head to look outside the window that faces the garden out back, the rain pouring heavier; clouds completely gray in the midnight. it was terrifying, especially hearing the wind beat against the shutters. you squeeze eren closer to you, your nerves getting to you more, goosebumps on your arms. 

“what a helluva anniversary, huh?” eren speaks to distract you, leveling his face over yours to block your view of the outside. you smile at him, knowing he was aware of your fear. 

you tsk, rolling your eyes. “man, from this scary ass weather, to my father’s bullshit . . i’m over it.” 

“hm, over it? already?”

you pucker your lips questionably. “yeah?” 

“it’s not over,” his voice barely becomes a whisper as he leans into you more, lips pressing against yours deeply. 

“eren, i really want to, but we can’t. my dad's upstairs,” you giggle, pushing your face away only for him to grab you and pull you closer to his chest, throwing your left leg over his waist. 

“i don’t care. fuck me.” 

you gasp with a laugh, eyes bulging when you feel his dick hard and heavy on your thigh. “mister yeager, are you naked?” 

“had no choice. my drawls upstairs and i ain’t puttin’ the dirty ones back on.” 

“only ‘cause you wanna touch my coochie,” you laugh, gasping when his fingers begin tugging at your shorts, ass almost slipping out while the rest of his fingers delicately brush along your clothed clit. “w-wait. what if he hears. that’s g’na be so embarrassing.” 

“ain’t he a heavy sleeper?” 

“well, yeah, but—”

“guess you’ll have to train yourself to keep quiet,” he smooches your cheek, smacking your ass hard to tease you, and you lose immediately, moaning loud. he chuckles, your thighs parting to welcome him, mouth agape from the warmth his palms bring, igniting your skin. the blood rushes through you as heat encases your face the instant his hand wraps around your throat, bringing your face closer. 

"didn’t get to finish touchin’ you earlier,” eren breathes heavily, his nose pressing against your neck as his lips glide to your collarbone. “it pissed me off."

“m-me too,” you whine when his thick tongue aggressively licks at your collarbone, a kiss following suit and continuing all over your neck.

"your pussy felt so good on my fingers," eren's hands massage over your thighs, purposely avoiding where you need him most. fingers swallowing the thickness of your thighs and the plush of your ass, smacking to get another reaction out of you. 

"you're teasing," you whimper, rolling your head back while your eyes scroll. “fuck, you know how wet that makes me”. 

" ‘fuckin ‘course i do,” his breath hitches again, moving his face to the other side of your neck, your hand gripping his bicep while grinding your hips to inch closer to his fingers. he tastes your skin again, and it’s lewd, and loud. knowing how sensitive you were there, any intimate sound setting you off.

"stop. teasing." 

eren’s pulling the blankets back, dragging you to stand up and firmly pressing your backside to his chest, just like the position he had you in earlier. staring down at you, he admires the deep red of the set you wore for him. it complements your brown skin perfectly, drawing attention to the fullness of your breasts and the swell of your hips. your thick, curly hair tumbling down your back in soft waves, framing your heart-shaped face and accentuating your plump, inviting lips. he pulls the bloomers completely off, your painted toes stepping out of them, twitching from any touch he gives you. 

“you’re so perfect,” eren whispers, guiding your head back to lie on his chest so you can look up at him, his mouth enclosing around yours to kiss you upside down. his chin holding you still. “you turn me on so bad.”

you bite your lip, looking up at him with hooded eyes as he holds you in place, a strong arm wrapped around you to keep you pinned to his firm chest. the heat of his skin seeps into yours, igniting a fresh spark of desire within you. you can feel his dick pressed against your lower back, evidence of how much he wants you. you shift slightly, grinding yourself subtly back in a silent invitation. your nipples harden under the sheer fabric of the bralette when his hand comes to play with them, straining towards his touch. you part your lips, letting him deepen the kiss as his tongue dances with yours. the taste of you mingles together, a heady aphrodisiac that makes you crave more. you moan softly into his mouth, surrendering yourself completely to the moment and to him.

turning slightly to the side, you detach your lips to spit into your hand, kissing him again as you stroke his dick beside your thigh, his hands embedded into your hips. his dark brows knit, your hand twisting to his liking as he holds your entire face with both hands, groaning low while brushing his lips amongst your own. his teeth go to pull down the strap of your top, latching his mouth onto the skin of your soft tits, jaw widening to suck on the flesh with tenacity.

"can't get over how good this looks on you," eren hums, keeping the other strap on your shoulder for appearance. he spanks your ass again, and you stand up straighter, turning to face him.

“you really like it?” you ask shyly.

his gaze roams over your body with undisguised hunger. “baby, i fuckin’ love it."

it makes your face hotter, slowly twisting in your spot to try to keep your composure. you hated when you felt intimidated by him as if he was some sort of stranger. 

“don’t get shy on me now,” he noticed instantly, cupping your chin before kissing you. “show me that bad girl i know.” 

a coy smile twitches at your lips, eren urging you to hurry with a hand smoothing onto the top of your head as you lower to your knees. he grips your hair dominantly, forcing you to keep your eyes on his. the sight is undeniably godly. he looks almost worn out, shoulders hunched under the weight of a long day's labor, and the marital instinct inside of you wants to make him feel better. his dark hair is mussed, easily falling from the hair tie wrapped in the follicles. there's a rugged attractiveness to his features; the strong jawline, the piercing gaze, the hint of stubble along his chin, the desire in his eyes. scattered across eren’s right arm and neck is a plethora of dark ink, artistically gothic, straight out of a fantasy novel. none of his tattoos had deep meanings. he liked what he wanted and that was all, using his skin strictly as an artist’s canvas. the only one that meant a lot to him was your name tatted across his wrist. 

"tell me to open my mouth." 

eren grunts, your sudden lead stirring something within his abdomen. usually, he’s the one telling you what to do. "open your mouth. now." 

your lips part, obeying without hesitation. "stick your fingers in." 

eren lays two fingers on your soft tongue, slowly stroking until he’s reaching the back of your throat to build up more saliva. you moan in approval, eyes watering but still maintaining eye contact. eren’s brows are knitted, dick hanging from the weight of it. he’s bending forward, spitting on your tongue and prepping your mouth, groaning gravely. you pull your mouth back from his fingers, salvia dripping down your chin. 

“you always do that,” he chuckles, the roughness of it making you squeeze your thighs. 

“ ‘cause you’re nasty,” you smirk, rolling your eyes. eren playfully does the same. “take my head and put my mouth where you want it." 

“fuck, you’re so good at that,” eren comments, gripping your chin to give you a chaste kiss. “talkin’ so pretty.” 

he keeps a firm hold on your scalp, curls tangled within his rough hands as he steadily guides you toward his dick, eyeing you darkly, back slightly bent so he can catch the view of your nose touching his stomach. you make sure to keep your eyes attached to his, dying to watch him submerge into ecstasy. he enjoys the control he has over you. you gag around him, and when he whimpers from the sensation, you can't help but grind in your position, the neediness itching at you. trailing your dominant hand between your thighs, you use two of your fingers to spread your lower lips apart to collect your juices before sinking them into your soaked opening. 

"oh my god," he notices instantly, choking on a moan as your nails dug into his thigh, moaning around him. he's breathing heavily, your teary eyes the trigger. pressure builds inside him now. he evokes a low growl, and his pace picks up even more, and so do your fingers. shifting your hips quicker. “i’m so proud of you, mama. you doin’ me so fuckin’ good right now.” 

eren loses himself in the raw act of claiming your mouth, each brutal thrust forces a corresponding squelch from your stuffed lips, saliva and precum mingling in a lewd display of submission. you continue sucking, your moans vibrating around his shaft as you fuck yourself open for him, juices flowing freely down your thighs. eren's thrusts become more urgent, his grasp on your hair tightening.

“fuck, baby gimme your throat," he whispers, his hips driving forward aggressively. “take it real deep.” 

with a deep thrust, eren hits the back of your throat and holds it there, the pressure building at the base of his dick. your eyes water, tears streaming down your cheeks as you hold your breath, never breaking eye contact, silently urging him on. your eyes roll back, overwhelmed by the sheer size of eren's dick fucking your throat. you gag as he fucks your face steadily with his head tossed back, and through it all, you find yourself getting wetter at the depravity of it all. eren's neediness is arousing, his hips rocking into your mouth with so much lust. you can feel his balls slapping against your chin with each thrust, the sound echoing obscenely in the almost quiet room. the tv luckily drowned out most sounds. suddenly, eren's entire dick pulses and throbs within your throat, hot jets of cum erupting directly onto your tongue. you swallow, like he likes, gulping down every drop as he rides out his orgasm, finally stilling to catch his breath.

“fuck,” he wheezed, hips jerking as he carefully pulls his toned hips back to let you breathe, dick twitching and jumping, still hard and needing more. groaning when you kiss the tip and after, his happy trail. “that felt too good, sweetheart. c’mere.” 

eren’s gaze locks onto your face, drinking in the sight of your gratified expression as he picks you up, sitting you on the couch as he lowers his head between your thighs. your knees are hiked up to your chest, your thumb hanging on the corner of your mouth as you stare down at him in bliss. his brain rewires every time he sees her; puffy, warm, and soaking just for him. the anklet you have shimmers as you chew at your thumb and gyrate your hips, waiting for him to touch you with a pleading whine. 

he slides two fingers knuckle-deep into your dripping pussy, pumping them carefully as he lowers his face to suckle your clit into his mouth. your quiet moans and cries spur him on, your hand going atop his head to guide him as he eats you out. your hips buck against his face, your body trembling beneath him, back arched and toes curled as he devours you. he's relentless, tongue flattening across your clit as he moves his head to apply pressure, lips kissing and swallowing your clit while his fingers twist and fuck into you. you're panting now, fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer while your face screws up in pleasure, hating that you couldn’t scream the way you wanted. 

"mmm, look at that pussy, baby. look,” eren’s grabbing the back of your neck to connect your forehead with his, forcing your gaze to look at the way his fingers move inside of you, soft tummy molding. “fuckk, she’s so sweet. clenching too tight. give her t’me. make it easy.” 

sobbing, you nod your head against his, covering your mouth to muffle your moans as tears well. he curls his fingers just right, hitting that elusive spot far inside that makes your toes curl. grunting, he lowers his face back, burying it into your cunt feeling the scruff of his facial hair creating delicious friction against your sensitive skin. he’s opening and encasing his lips around your clit in iterations, sucking and licking hard, spanking your outer thigh while slicking his face up and down, your wetness lewdly known. 

“ooo, f-fuckk, ba—by, agh!” the pressure builds, coiling tighter in your belly until you can't hold back anymore. you cry out, fisting at his hair and the fabric of the couch as you roll your hips harder on his mouth.

“you’re making such a mess, girl,” he talks against your pussy, swallowing down every drop you give him. spanking you repetitively, the act and vibration causing your thighs to clamp around his ears as your orgasm crashes over you. pleasure rippling through your body, your juices flooding eren's mouth as he laps at you greedily, prolonging your bliss.

the shivers come from every part of you, your legs, your arms, and the breath on your lips. wanting to cry from how good it felt along with the frustration of not being able to scream. eren comes up to kiss you, muttering ‘go ‘head’ to let you scream into his mouth, grunting and moaning altogether from the intensity. your legs unable to stop shaking. he’s giving you open mouth kisses, your sounds stirring something sinister within his dick as you suck on his tongue, tasting yourself and groping at his waist to bring him closer to you. 

“atta girl,” he pecks your lips one more time before pulling you to stand again. 

eren turns you around, bending you forward as your thighs press tight together, holding your body up by your forearms pulled back. your upper body hangs, tits threatening to spill from your bralette. eren’s hair is long in his face now, positioning his hips so his dick can slide easily into you without the extra support. a low groan rumbles in his throat when his wish is granted, and you take him full. a ring of white shadowing around his dick with your cream, breathlessly whispering ‘yeah, fuck’ under his breath. feeling his dick makes you whine, shifting your ass back, greedy for more. this feeling never gets old. 

“fuck, yes. squeeze me just like that,” he rasps, pulling nearly all the way out before snapping his hips forward. you gasp from his roughness, tilting your pelvis to take him fully. the tightness making eren blow a raspberry before throwing his head back. “goddamn, mama.” 

“p-please,” you beg, moving your ass back as much as you could, not having much power over strength at the moment. “need it, baby. fuck me.” 

there was no need for that since he already had the intention of fucking you numb. shifting hips waist, he's rolling into you with ease, your ass clapping back onto his abdomen as he lets out a disgruntled noise that's loud enough to wake the entire house. you squeak, his thrusts rough and steady, fucking you good while keeping you still. heaving, your body falls back into his weakly, having no control over how he wants to use you. thighs adding pressure onto your clit as you mindlessly bounce back on his dick that's splitting you open.

"b-baby. . . too loud," a small panic drawls out, leveling your head to avoid blood rushing to it. eren scoffs, slowing himself momentarily to bring his face by yours.

“i don’t give a fuck, this my house,” he rasps, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the column of your jawline. “do you want me to make you cum or not?” 

he assumed you crying was the answer, responding with ‘mhm’ as a ‘that’s what i thought’.  his dick twitches inside of you, eren doing his best to keep his composure, but you make it nearly impossible. he's pistoning in and out, watching you coat his dick sweetly, voice laced with lust as you spasm around him and cum unexpectedly. he groans while listening to your cries that ripple brokenly, pounding depravedly as pleasure courses through both your veins.

“it feel good cummin’ on my dick?” 

“yess, ‘ren. c-can’t stop cummin’, baby.” 

“gimme some more.” 

you bite your lip hard to stifle the scream threatening to spill, fingers curling into fists as you fight to maintain restraint. sweat beads on your brow from the exertion of keeping yourself still and silent under his relentless onslaught. the coil of tension in your core winds tighter and tighter, orgasm just out of reach. just when you think you can't hold back any longer, eren shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts. now, the head of his dick is kissing that sweet spot within you with every mean, intended stroke. a strangled gasp escapes you unbidden as that warm feeling bursts once more, convulsing helplessly in his hold, muscles clenching wildly around his dick as you struggle to muffle your cries behind clenched teeth. your hand pushes at his waist as a signal for some form of relief, moving your body forward. 

“where you goin’,” eren’s yanking you back the moment you try to escape, locking your wrists in his one hand, the other gripping your waist to continue fucking you back onto him. 

“erenn,” your voice cracks, your vision blurring from the intensity. a hiccup falls, your head hanging low as he grounds his dick all up in you. you hear yourself squelch, his sharp hips interacting with the softness of your ass that recoils back. your hands struggle in his hold, crying at the deadlock. but it felt so, so damn good. “f-fuck you. oh my god, fuck you, baby.” 

eren tongues his inner cheek with a snarky chuckle. “that just makes me w’na fuck you harder.”  

the stamina he has gives you a headache sometimes, unknowing of when you end up flat on your stomach lying on the sectional part of the sofa. eren notches the head of his dick between your folds to gather more of your slick before sinking back in, sheathing himself entirely, balls flattening on the curve of your ass. the solid warmth of his body blanketing yours, wrapping his bicep around your neck while he grabs onto the armrest before you two, rolling his hips and dropping his dick into you. 

“no one’s ever g’na do the shit i do to you,” he sloppily french kisses behind your ear, voice growing weak, panting heavier.

“mhm mm,” you agree without words, breaking out to follow the rhythm of his hips.

“your so pretty. say it. tell me you're my pretty girl.” 

tears prick at the corners of your eyes, face flushed, and arousal coiling hot and heavy in your belly, responding greedily to his every action. 

"i’m your pretty girl,” you gasp weakly, voice barely audible. your nails dig into the cushion as you writhe helplessly, full with his heavy dick and held immobile by his superior strength. every ruthless drive of his hips forces the air from your lungs, making you feel floaty.

a choked sob escapes him as he sinks everything into you, your fingers clawing frantically at the upholstery. you try to bury your face in the cushions to muffle your noises as he splits you open, each powerful thrust getting a singular sound from you, but eren had other plans. his big hand covers your mouth, continuously french kissing your neck as he grunts by your ear and rambles the filthiest things. your body does what it’s trained to; react. you cry in his palm, pussy fluttering around him as you cum for what seems like the tenth time, squeezing his dick like a vise. trembling violently beneath him and it takes every ounce of self-control he possesses not to let loose the feral growl building in his throat, knowing it would alert your father of your illicit activities. instead, he grits his teeth and redoubles his efforts, fucking into you his hardest to pursue his own release.

“eren,” even in your lightheaded state you begin to worry. his skin clashing obscenely loud with yours makes it hard for you not to scream after every nasty pound. you can feel him in your stomach, eyes rolling back into your skull as your mouth drops open, gasping in fragments.

“shut that shit up, ꒰♡꒱.” 

whining pathetically, you let him use you as he pleases simply ‘cause there’s no room for bickering. all coherent thoughts flee, leaving only primal instinct and the desperate need for release. with a muffled grunt, he buries himself to the hilt and cums inside you, his grip on your hip tightening almost painfully as he thrusts out every hot drop, shuddering while grinding against your ass to prolong the sensations.

"holy fuck," his voice cracks, rumbling as he hits your ass again and again.

eren slumps heavily atop you, both of you panting and twitching in the aftermath. he rolls to the side, pulling you with him so you're draped across his chest rather than crushed beneath his weight. one large hand strokes lazily up and down your spine as the other tangles in your wild curls, holding you close as he tries to catch his breath.

"you did so well, love," he praises softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and rubbing on you soothingly.  "you're a good girl, i love you so much.”

his voice is warm and approving, filled with the kind of affection that makes your heart swell with happiness. in this moment, cocooned in his strong arms and basking in the afterglow, nothing else matters. this anniversary was just one of many. you were worn out, drifting off to sleep without responding, but he knew you felt the same. eren managed to clean you up in your sleep, dressing you with his hoodie again and snuggling under the warm blankets for the rest of the night.

the following morning, you awake to the smell of brewed coffee and pancakes. wiping your eyes and yawning as you make your way towards the brightly lit kitchen, needing to soak in the bath since you can barely walk. finding your father and eren cooking together while listening to the radio broadcasts. it was the most shocking sight seeing them bond. your father flipping buttery flapjacks and your husband fixing the garbage disposal since something got caught in it. your heart blossomed nonetheless, thinking that this is all you wanted all along. this was the best gift. 

© 𝑠𝑡4𝑟𝑏𝑤𝑟𝑟𝑦 . all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life.♡

[figsnpassionfruits]

Black Coffee

word count: 1k tags: logan howlett x fem!reader (can be read as gn!), fluff, established rs warnings: implication of nightmares dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive pictures are from pinterest

He looked so peaceful.

The sound of the chirping birds travelled through the open windows, entering your home and filling your bedroom with it. It was the reason you were awake, along with fresh slight winds of the clear forest air, the curtains dancing to its flow.

You were facing Logan, a hand of yours on his bearded cheek, your thumb grazing his skin back and forth. It was not often that he got to sleep and rest like he was now. You had just moved into this house a few days ago. But you could already tell that for him, this was his safe place. Not only because it was in the middle of the pine tree forest, but also because of you.

He looked so peaceful.

Careful to not wake him, you scooped your legs up, lifting the covers only enough for you to wiggle out of bed silently. Glancing back at him with your lips in a tight line, you placed your feet one by one on the cool wooden planks, getting up slowly in order to not make the floor creak. Once up, you started tiptoeing out of your shared bedroom, heading to the bathroom to freshen up before going to the kitchen.

Logan loved black coffee. You did not understand how anyone could drink it that bitter but for him it was more of a functional drink than something to enjoy. Not that he needed it to wake up; that man was practically a unit anyway. It just made him feel more human to share coffee or tea with you in the morning. Besides, he was too proud to allow himself to add some milk or sugar. No matter how he was behind closed doors, a contrast to how strangers would see him, this was the one thing he would not change: The drinks stay bitter. Any time of the day where he is able to spend time with you is a blessing. So if he has to drink black coffee to have it; he will.

After pouring his coffee into his favourite mug, you tenderly walked up the stairs, trying to remain quiet in order to not wake him. No matter how at peace he seemed to be right now, Logan was used to be on edge his whole life. Any sound too noisy was able to wake him up right away, possibly with his claws out and adrenaline pumping through his veins, ready to get rid of the threat. It hurt your heart every time he had wake up like that. Therefore, being as quiet as possible was the way to go.

Once back upstairs in your bedroom you leaned on the doorframe, not able to hide the corners of your lips quirking up as you took another look at him.

He looked so peaceful.

As you walked cautiously to his side of the bed you placed the white mug on his nightstand, creating a small sound that made you cringe. You sat down next to his frame, slowly letting your hips sink into the mattress. Leaning over to him, you delivered small kisses over his nose and cheeks, resting a hand on his chest and the other on his cheek once you noticed him flinching awake.

“Good morning to you, too.” He mumbled, his voice raw and gravelly. Logan wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his exposed chest, his grip around your back tightening each second, making you giggle.

When trying to fight back and sit up, he only held on more, making you burst out a soft laugh. “Stop it!”

Logan grinned, his eyes crinkling as he let out a soft chuckle before finally letting go.

Once you sat up and rested your forearms on him, you took a good look at him, the eye contact filled with love and warmth.

He looked so peaceful.

Logan tucked a lose strand of your hair behind your ear, a large hand of his running up and down your back.

“I brought you coffee.” You smile, running your fingers through his dark and messy hair.

“Can smell it.”

A moment of silence passes where you continue to look at each other. It seemed like he was just taking you in, analyzing your face in detail with a gentle curl of his lips.

“I already watered the plants.” You informed him, your fingers now travelling downwards to roam over his chest.

Logan raised his eyebrows, clearly playfully mocking you. “Did you now?”

As a response you lightly tapped his chest before reminding him that he had promised you to go on a morning run with you.

“Just a few more minutes.” He grumbled, placing both hands back on your back to embrace your warmth. The skin-to-skin contact put him at ease. Made him feel safe. Made him feel peaceful.

“I love you.”

Logan smiled at you, leaning his upper body up to give you a small yet rather long kiss. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Managing to get him up was a story for itself. It included a lot of pulling and tugging at his arm. Obviously, he just gave in and given you what you wanted. How would you be able to singlehandedly pull up a man whose bones consisted of adamantium?

Once at the front door, already dressed and hair put up to your liking, you were tying your shoes, waiting for you lover to join. You looked up when you heard the creaking of the stairs only to see him in shorts and a tank top, making you smile. “There you are. I almost thought I’d have to go alone.”

Logan clicked his tongue, “You won’t ever go alone if I’m here.” He said. He took advantage of you being bent over and gave your behind a small smack, grinning once you stood up straight.

“Perv.” You giggled, smiling into another kiss.

🍯

[redvexillum]

I feel like the way I portray Alastor is all in the spectrum of Yandare. So, I tried my best to write...yandare Alastor in a way it makes sense for my head canon of him. I want to give a quick shout out to my friend @peach-flavored-flambe ! I thought the best way to welcome her is dedicating this unhinged Alastor story to her!

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, dead dove: do not eat, dub con, obsessive!alastor, p in v, gentle sex, gaslighting, entrapment, breeding kink, psychological, dark, mental torment, unhealthy relationship, orgasm denial, power dynamic, unhinged!alastor, reader is not okay, implied cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, depression, reader is delulu, alastor is delulu, extreme co-dependency, extreme denial, yandare!alastor

🙏 please mind your mental health before you read 🙏

The thought curled through you like poison, clinging to every corner of your mind: you wanted to die.  

It was a siren song, cruel and haunting, a whisper that slithered deep into the crumbling fortress of your mind, eroding the defences you’d built to keep it out. Your hands shook as exhaustion seeped into every crack; bones weary from a battle that felt endless. It wasn’t just tiredness – it was a soul-deep weight, a leaden heaviness that hollowed you out.  

In the background, soft jazz played from the kitchen, each note swirling with a warmth that felt so alien in the cold void within you. Sunlight poured through the window, a golden river that washed over everything it touched, indifferent to the shadows lurking within.  

You noticed the knife on the counter – a sharp gleam that seemed to pulse with a dangerous allure, its polished blade catching the light with a slick, almost wet shine. It seemed to call out to you, offering a quick, dreamless eternity.  

But even as your gaze lingered, your heart resisted, tethered stubbornly to someone who’d become both your prison and sanctuary. 

Alastor.  

A man you never should have crossed paths with. A man you should never have fallen for.  

You sighed, holding the knife as you turned back to the chunk of meat. Its once bright crimson flesh changing to a dull, dead brown. The raw smell was overwhelming, thick and nearly spoiled in the oppressive Louisiana heat. Alastor left you with some tasks today, after you had begged him to give you something to do as you wait for his return. Your task was to package the meat, clean up the kitchen, polish the floor while you waited for his return.  

The smell of raw meat brought images to flicker through your mind: men and women, faces frozen in terror as Alastor dragged them down to the cellar. A shiver ran down your spine, and a small whimper escaped, a whisper of fear against the tears that threatened to fall. You tore your gaze away from the knife and forced yourself to look outside. The bayou stretched out beyond the window, a bleak expanse of gnarly trees and dark water – silent, desolate, and as inescapable as him.  

You took a steadying breath, mentally reciting the day’s tasks like a prayer to keep you grounded. Finish the meat, scrub the blood stains, bleach the floor, and when the last crimson smear was gone, he’d return. By then, you’d be ready, composed. With a sniff, you shoved your feelings back, burying them under the monotony of chores.  

Finally, when every trace of red erased from the floor, you heard the front door click open. The sound echoed, a rhythmic click-click-click, each lock sliding free, the metal grating sharply against the silence. Your heart skipped as the door creaked, and there he stood – Alastor, haloed in the setting sun. His smile was gentle, but his eyes gleamed as he opened his arms.  

“My love,” he murmured, setting down his bag and slipping off his coat with an air of practised ease.  

You scrambled to your feet, the memory still fresh from the last time you hadn’t been there to greet him. He had panicked, refusing to leave your side for days. He held you then, whispering sweet words of devotion, his arms an unyielding cage, each word sinking deeper until it was all you knew. You didn’t know if he knew the truth – that every word bound you closer even as you longed to escape.  

Fear wrapped around you, yet somewhere deep within, in a place even you struggled to reach, you needed him. The years of isolation had stripped you bare, leaving only the two of you locked in this strange dance.  

Five years – five years of him as your only constant, your only company in this void. That had to be love. It was the only way to make sense of why you stayed, why you remained bound to him by something more powerful than chains.  

It had to be love.  

“Alastor,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, legs shaking from hours of kneeling on the hard floor, scrubbing away every crimson stain. You took a step forward, the chilling clink of metal grazing the wood beneath your feet with each uneven, hesitant step. The floorboards seemed to pulse below you, each creak an echo of your own heartbeat, until finally, you stopped, frozen four steps away from the exit.  

He chuckled – a warm, resonant sound that should have been comforting but only heightened the chill trickling down your spine. With graceful steps, Alastor closed the distance between you, his arms circling around your shoulders. His chin rested gently against your head, the weight of him grounding you in place, his presence washing over you like a tide you couldn’t escape.  

“I missed you,” you mumbled against his chest, nuzzling into his embrace. The heat of him, the solid reassurance of his touch, brought you back to yourself, to the one undeniable truth of your existence: you were here, alive, because he held you tethered. “Did you have a good day at work, my love?” you murmured, soft and tentative.  

His hand slid over the back of your head; fingers gentle as he stroked you. He breathed in deeply, a wistful sigh slipping from his lips. “My love, you never left my thoughts for a single moment.” His voice was soft, warm, and his arms tightened around you, so tightly that for a second, you felt as though the air was slipping away.  

Finally, he parted, just enough for you to breathe again, his fingers grazing along the warm curve of your cheek. “Let’s get you out of that, hmm?” His voice was gentle, and his whisky-brown eyes glittered with a kindness that made your chest ache.  

A swell of relief surged in you, and you threw your arms around his shoulders. “Thank you, Alastor, thank you!” Laughter bubbled out of you, bright and involuntary, stretching your lips into a smile that felt foreign, almost unbelievable after everything.  

He lifted you effortlessly, his strength both exhilarating and terrifying as he carried you toward the couch. Each step sent the faintest clinking of metal into the air, a reminder of the bond that held you captive.  

As he set you down and took a step back, you could feel his gaze moving over you, slow and deliberate, like he could peel back each layer with a single look. You flushed under his scrutiny, your shoulders curling inward, a strange blend of shame and need warring within you. Despite your clothes, under his gaze you felt exposed, vulnerable, as if he could read every thought you’d ever dared to keep from him.  

“Cher,” he murmured, his hand drifting over the outside of your calf, fingers tracing a path until they reached your ankle.  

You heard the fabric rustling, and then – there it was, glinting between his fingers: a silver key. Your eyes focused on the key, and your heart skipped, hope blooming like wildflowers in a barren field. The promise of freedom lay in that tiny object, so close and yet, a lifetime away. You watched, hardly daring to breathe, as he took your ankle in his hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your bare foot. It was a reminder of the first time he’d ordered you to go without socks when you first escaped from this manacle.  

He slid the key into the lock, and with a single twist, the manacle opened with the same familiar click that marked his return home every day. The cool metal fell away, clattering weakly to the floor. A rush of air hit the skin beneath, and you winced as blood surged back into your ankle, a dull ache flooding back into limbs so long constrained.  

The shackles lay there, lifeless on the floor, the physical proof of your captivity now nothing more than a scrap of metal, stripped of its power. And yet, as you looked up at him, his eyes shining with something both possessive and achingly tender, you realized you could never truly cast off the chains that bound you to him.  

Not as long as you believe you loved him.  

“Oh, my poor cher,” Alastor murmured, his voice thick with a twisted blend of regret and possessive tenderness as his eyes traced the dark bruises wrapping around your ankle. His lips brushed softly over the tender skin, lingering in a gentle, reverent kiss before his forehead rested against your leg.  

With his eyes closed, he sighed, pressing warmth into you. “It pains me,” he whispered, “to see even the slightest mark of discomfort on you.” His lips began a slow journey, grazing from your ankle upward along the sensitive skin of your inner calf, each kiss stealing a shiver from you. “But you understand, don’t you, cher? It’s a necessity.” 

He lifted his eyes to meet yours, their intense gaze sending a shudder through you. His position – kneeling between your legs – made it impossible to think straight. Despite being in a servile pose, he was still the master of your heart.  

“Yes...I understand,” you managed, your voice raspy and barely audible. His lips continued their climb, each kiss leaving a cool, tingling path against your skin. “But I’ve been good, Alastor.” Your breath hitched as his head came to rest in your lap, his fingers tracing languid circles along your thigh.  

He chuckled softly, low and indulgent. “You have been,” he murmured, his warm breath fanning across your skin. “Perhaps if you continue to behave...I might let you roam freely around the house when I’m not here.” He looked up, giving you a small, playful smile that made your heart stutter.  

The thought of moving freely, without the heavy, omnipresent clink of the chain dragging behind you, sent a thrill through your veins. You clenched your hands into fists, desperate to keep your excitement contained.  

“I can be good,” you whispered, fingers drifting to his hair, threading through the soft strands as you stroked his head. “I can be good for you, Alastor...” 

A groan escaped him, his eyes falling shut as he leaned into your touch, savouring the sensation like a man starving. Emboldened, you took a breath, letting words slip out – words you’d held back for so long, daring to hope he might grant them.  

“Maybe...” you hesitated, voice barely a murmur. “Maybe sometimes in the distant future, I could go into t-town with you?” Your fingers froze in his hair as his body tensed, muscles stiffening under your touch. You held your breath, dread and hope tangling within you, afraid you’d crossed some unseen line. Alastor’s overprotective streak was ironclad – whenever he sensed a threat, real or imagined, his vigilance would lock you down even more tightly than before.  

A heartbeat passed before he spoke. “Perhaps...” He rose to his feet slowly, drawing you up with him, a gentle smile curving his lips. “Perhaps one day, cher.” His hands slid under your legs, lifting you from the couch, his grip firm and desirous. “But for now...” he trailed off, leaving the sentence open, thick with suggestion as he carried you up the stairs.  

The scent of him, rich and intoxicating, filled your senses, mingling with the sharp, metallic undertone of old blood. Recently, he had brought up the idea of family, his eyes lighting with a dark kind of joy when he saw your loneliness. The house felt hollow most days, empty but for him, and he’d suggested a child - a little soul to fill the silent rooms.  

At first, the notion had left you reeling, uncertain, but the longer you were left alone with only your thoughts, the more the idea began to take root. Its appeal started to bloom uncontrollably like weeds in your mind.  

Now, Alastor and you spent every waking moment together in his bed, until your wishes took fruit.  

He lowered you onto the bed with an almost reverent tenderness, as though each touch was sacred, each look a silent promise. He shed his clothes slowly, his eyes never leaving you as his skin emerged, bare and raw. By the time he climbed onto bed, leaning over you, his desire was unmistakable – his cock hardening just from watching you laid out beneath him.  

He hovered for a moment, his face close to yours, and his gaze softened as his hand brushed along your cheek. “Cher,” he murmured, a plea woven into his tone, his voice low and thick. His fingers traced down the side of your face as though memorizing you by touch alone. “Will you let me...feel you tonight?” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, slow and lingering, each word like a promise. “For the rest of the night?” His hips lowered, pressing himself against your thigh, his warmth branding you.  

Heat flared through you, your body’s response instant and shameless. Every part of you remembered him – his hands, his mouth, the way he claimed you until the world slipped away. Your body answered before your mind could, a warmth pooling low in your stomach as he lifted the hem of your dress, slowly baring your skin. You sat up, letting the fabric fall away, and his eyes flickered, his gaze dropping to your bare breasts. Your only cover now a thin piece of cloth hiding the most intimate part of you.  

Alastor’s grin widened, his gaze roving from the pebbled peaks of your nipples down to the damp fabric between your thighs. His hands traced down, catching the waistband and tugging it free. His touch lingered over each inch of exposed skin as he pulled it over your thighs, past the bruises on your ankle, until you lay just as bare before him.  

Your legs fell open, your slick folds glistening in invitation, your body traitorous in its eagerness. Alastor’s eyes darkened, his fingers tightening around his cock as he gripped himself, slow strokes stoking his own arousal as he stared, captivated by your wetness. 

“The thought of you carrying my child, cher...it drives me mad.” His voice was a rough whisper, his breaths shallow as he stroked himself harder, faster, his eyes on your throbbing core. “It drives me to the edge,” he murmured, his grin feral as he leaned closer, his gaze smouldering with dark intent. “Drives me to the point of bloodlust,” his adam’s apple bobbed up then down, his grin trembling as it couldn’t stretch further lest it tore through his cheeks.  

You swallowed, your pulse quickening at the edge of his words, at the memory of the shadows he kept hidden – the bloodstained cellar, the bodies you helped him to clean. Whether you were here or not, you knew he would continue to kill, as relentless and ruthless as ever.  

"Ah, cher,” he sighed, settling his body over yours, his hard length pressing flush against your entrance, teasing you with his warmth. “Cher, cher, cher,” he murmured, his voice a low chuckle as he brushed his fingers through your hair, wrapping it around his fingers. “Why do you have to be so lovely?” His nose skimmed your hairline, nuzzling his way to your temple, where he pressed a slow, heated kiss. “Why do you tempt me like this?” 

“You’re all I think about, dream about,” he murmured, his voice honey-sweet as he pressed his mouth against your skin, each word a whisper trailing down your cheek, your neck, and finally, open-mouthed and lingering on the curve of your breast. “So much so, cher, that I sometimes imagine killing you.” His tone was soft, unsettlingly jovial as though he’d confessed a secret desire, his hands tracing delicate patterns over your skin.  

Your heart pounded, memories flashing across your mind like dark, haunted snapshots – the cellar door muffling desperate cries, the hollow silence that followed. The scent of blood hung thick in those memories, the darkness swallowing up the faces that haunted you. Your hands trembled, a pulse of fear mingling with something deeper, something you could barely acknowledge.  

“But I won’t,” he murmured against your skin, pulling you from the spiral of those memories. He lifted his hand to catch a tear that had slipped from your eye, his thumb brushing it away softly. He gazed at the glistening drop before licking it from his fingertip, his eyes darkened as he held you captive in his gaze. “I would never hurt you, cher. Have I ever hurt you?” His voice was quiet, coaxing yet intense, his question leaving no room for escape.  

His eyes burned into yours, searching, unwavering. “Tell me, cher,” he pressed, his voice as smooth as silk but laced with a demand that made your pulse stutter. “Do you see me as a bad man?”  

There were moments when Alastor felt so delicate, so gentle that he might as well have been made of glass, every touch featherlight. But there were others, moments like this, when he shifted – his possessive grip, his words, his gaze – all dark and consuming. When he asked these questions, you felt like a bird trapped in his cage, heart fluttering as you tried to find the right words.  

Your lips quivered, unable to form a reply, the silence thick as more tears slipped down your cheeks. Alastor’s gaze softened just slightly, and he gathered you close, arms wrapping around you as he rocked you, as if you were a fragile, precious thing in his hold. “Shh,” he whispered, his lips against your hair, “I love you, cher. I love you, I love you,” he repeated, his voice lilting like a lullaby.  

Your mind fractured, the edge of your memories sharp, each fragment glinting in the dark recesses of your mind. You reached out within yourself, searching, groping for the piece of you that had loved him first – the man you’d met one hazy night at the speakeasy, the man who seemed to light up the room just by existing.  

Slowly, you let your hands drift to his back, your fingers pressing against the warmth of his skin. Your eyes closed, more tears slipping free as you tried to remember the feeling of joy, of laughter that you’d felt with him. Your lips brushed against his shoulder, a tentative sign of trust as he sighed, his body relaxing under your touch.  

You dug deeper, sifting through memories of that laughter, of your first dance, your first kiss – all those quiet, gentle confessions that had once coloured his eyes in soft brows. You found yourself on your knees, clutching at those fragments with desperate hands, determined to recall the moments when his touch had felt safe, cherished.  

“Shh,” Alastor’s mouth hovered over yours, his lips ghosting against yours, a barely there whisper of warmth. “It’s alright, cher. I have you.” He guided himself against you, pressing gently, his cock slipping slowly into your wet, pulsing heat. His mouth melded to yours as his tongue traced along the seam of your lips, savouring each taste as his low moans mingled with your soft gasps.  

A hum escaped him, rich and satisfied, as he sank into you, his body pressed to yours, filling you with a quiet intensity that left you breathless. The salted trails on your cheeks lingered as your lips curved into a slow smile, your legs parting, welcoming him deeper, your heart opening despite everything, the echoes of his whispers filling the night.  

“Good girl,” Alastor groaned, his hips pushing forward, stretching you around the hard, unyielding thickness of him. “Oh, cher, you’re perfect for me,” he murmured, his words a deep, reverent moan as he sank in deeper, inch by inch, until he was completely enveloped. His hands settled possessively on your hip, his eyes devouring the sight of you.  

“I’m going to fill you with my seed all night, love,” he purred, rolling his hips with a languid, maddening rhythm. “After all, your body is begging me to take you – wouldn't you say?” His voice rose with playful amusement, the bed creaking beneath you as if echoing his delight.  

“Yes,” you gasped, breathless, the sensation of him making you tremble. “Please,” you whispered, your nails pressing into his shoulders, urging him closer. Alastor drew his hips back slowly, agonizingly, until only the tip of him remained, only to push back in, the pace deliberate, every inch of him dragging against you with intent. Each movement seemed to ignite a new flame within you, stretching your pleasure, drawing it out until it was almost unbearable.  

“Look how good you are for me,” he whispered against your flushed cheek, his lips tracing his words into your skin. “Look how perfect you are,” he breathed, sinking deeper as he tightened his arms around you, locking you into his rhythm. “No one will understand you the way I do. You were destined to be mine.” His voice was rich, warm, but tinged with darkness that was both thrilling and terrifying.  

“Al-Alastor,” you whimpered, each thrust stoking the tension building inside, reaching deeper, pulling you into a spiral of desire and delirium. His moans, his heated words, his relentless pace – all of it washed over you like a fevered dream. Each breath, each sigh and whispered praise tangled together in a symphony of need.  

The creaking of the bed became louder, and with a sudden surge, he lifted himself, teeth gritted, and drove into you harder. His hips snapped against yours; his pace relentless.  

“Cher...cher...” he growled, beads of sweat glistening on his brow as he focused on you, his gaze hungry. “That’s right, cher,” he chuckled breathlessly, each laugh broken by the sound of his hips smacking against your own. “Oh, you’d make a perfect mother,” he panted, his words nearly incoherent as he picked up his pace. The final thrust left you both gasping, his grip on you tightening as he finally reached his own release, filling you with powerful, pulsing bursts of warmth.  

You moaned in frustration, your pleasure still simmering, unsatisfied, leaving your skin taut with need. You tried to move, but Alastor held you firmly, pressing himself deep inside, his body still wrapped around yours.  

He brushed a stray lock of hair from your face as he slowly softened within you, the warm rush of his seed starting to trickle down. When he finally withdrew, his fingers slipped to your entrance, pressing lightly to try and keep every last drop inside, as if marking you as his.  

Lying on his side beside you, he gazed at you, his expression gentle as he took in your flushed, tear-streaked cheeks, still needy with unfulfilled desire. A smile tugged at his lips when you also turned to your side to face him. His eyes drifted down, and you knew he was watching his own essence escape, sluggishly slipping down and pooling on your inner thighs. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your shoulder.  

“Don’t worry, cher,” he said quietly, his voice low and calming. “I’ll take care of you, again and again, tonight.” He withdrew his fingers, now slicked with his and your arousal. “Until your body takes my seed, we’ll keep trying,” he promised, his gaze flickering down between you both before meeting yours with a playful, boyish grin.  

With a breath that finally began to steady, you raised a hand to his face, touching his cheek tenderly. He turned to press a gentle kiss to your palm, a quiet moment of warmth shared in the aftermath.  

In moments like these, in the field of fractured memories, you saw one shard glinting brighter than the rest, pulling you toward it. It was a piece of you – something essential, something more truthful and dangerous than anything else. It shimmered with dark clarity, cutting through the shadows of doubt and lingering despair. 

You drifted past the memories that still haunted you, not quite registering the images that flooded your mind. Alastor’s eyes, once warm, turning nearly black with fury the night you tried to leave, his grip like iron as he vowed you’d belong to him. You passed by the moment he chained you to the cellar walls, his victims mere echoes in the darkness, his voice soothingly venomous, telling you that no one else could ever understand you as he did.  

Each scar those memories left on your soul was still fresh, a raw edge in the depths of your mind, fragments of yourself that would never heal.  

But in this one shard – this singular piece of undeniable truth – you saw something more. It was in these quiet, raw moments after he’d loved you, held you close, his breath mingling with yours. It was here, next to him in the aftermath, that you could almost believe he was the only soul in this world who would ever love you with such consuming fervour.  

You dragged your body closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, as his arms immediately circled protectively around you. His eyes softened as you leaned closer, drawing him into a gentle kiss. Your lips grazing his in a tender, slow exchange that felt achingly real. His fingers traced up and down your back, as if branding his name on your skin.  

In this quiet, lonely world, he was your guiding light, a burning soul who consumed all but left you somehow whole. You wanted to hold on to him, to keep him by your side. You feared whatever darkness lurked beyond Alastor, the fear of the unknown paled in comparison to the thought of leaving the one person who had vowed to love every fractured, scarred piece of you.  

He needed you, just as much as you needed him.  

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[raekensluver]

echoes of loss and love

description: you are haunted by memories of your relationship with fred weasley before his death. you feel like you're stuck in a loop, unable to move on when one day, george tells you fred was going to propose.

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader, platonic!george weasley x fem!reader

contains: angst, mentions of the hogwarts war, fred's canon death, survivors guilt.

song rec: all i want by kodaline- "but if you loved me, why did you leave me?"

w.c: 1.8k

an: to whoever wrote that one fic where george dyes his hair blue because he hates that whenever he looks in the mirror he sees fred- count. your. days. thx !!

the morning air was cool and damp, carrying the scent of fresh dew from the burrow. you sat on the edge of the bed, your feet touching the cold wooden floorboards, feeling the weight of the world press down on your shoulders. your eyes scanned the room, lingering on the frayed curtains and the chipped paint on the walls. the familiarity of it all brought a pang of nostalgia and a deep, unshakeable sadness. you had not slept well, as was the norm these days, plagued by dreams that felt more like echoes of a past life than mere nocturnal imaginings.

george lay sprawled across on his own bed on the other side of the room, his chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath. his face was a portrait of peace, untouched by the burdens that you knew he bore in his waking hours. the sight of him there, so much like fred, yet so painfully different, brought a lump to your throat. you remembered the countless nights you had spent in this very room, sharing laughter and secrets with the two of them until the early hours of the morning. the twins had always been inseparable, a unit, a force of nature that could not be divided. but now, fred's side of the room remained cold and untouched aside from your movement, a stark reminder of the gaping hole left in both your heart and the fabric of the weasley family.

you stood up slowly, the floorboards creaking beneath you, and padded over to the window. outside, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a soft, warm light on the dew-kissed garden. the leaves on the trees were tinged with gold and red, whispering of the approaching autumn. it was a beautiful scene, but the beauty felt hollow, as if the vibrancy of color was only a cruel mockery of the emptiness you felt within. you leaned against the windowsill, your eyes tracing the patterns the light made on the floor.

the guilt was a heavy, constant presence, like a shadow that never left your side. you had been there when the wall exploded, when fred's life had been so brutally extinguished. the sound of the blast still reverberated in your ears, a never-ending echo of the moment that had torn your world apart. his laughter, his warmth, his very essence had been wrenched away from you, leaving nothing but cold, empty space. you could still see the look in his eyes, the flash of surprise and pain, the way his hand had reached out for you as if he could somehow pull you into safety.

for a while, george had been cold towards you, his grief a tangible barrier that you couldn't breach. every time you looked at him, you saw the accusation in his gaze, the unspoken question of why it had been fred and not you. you understood his anger, his pain, but it didn't make the silent treatment any easier to bear. the burden of guilt grew heavier with each passing day, each missed opportunity to apologize or explain, to somehow make it right. but what could you say? there were no words to justify the cruel hand of fate that had taken fred from you both.

you decided to make some tea, hoping the warmth would soothe your soul. the kitchen was quiet, the embers of the fireplace glowing dimly. as you filled the kettle with water, the rusty pipes groaned, reminding you of the burrow's age. the weasley's had lived here for generations, and it was a place filled with love and laughter. now, it felt like a museum dedicated to a happiness that no longer existed. you placed the kettle on the stove and watched as the flame grew, the heat slowly spreading through the metal.

staring at the teapot, you waited for the water to boil. it was a simple task, one that had been done countless times before in this very kitchen. but today, it felt like a monumental effort. every second that ticked by was a reminder of the moments you had lost with fred. the teapot began to whistle, a shrill sound that pierced the silence. you jumped, startled, and hastily turned off the stove. the whistle died down, leaving only the soft hiss of the cooling water. you paused, your hand hovering over the teapot, your eyes welling up with unshed tears. fred had always liked his tea with three lumps of sugar and a dash of milk, just like his mother made it. the thought brought a bittersweet smile to your face.

the door to the kitchen creaked open, and you looked up to see george standing there, his hair a wild mess from sleep. his eyes searched yours, a silent question hanging in the air. for a moment, you felt like you were seeing fred in his place, the same look of curiosity and concern mirrored in his twin's gaze. your heart clenched, and you had to look away, focusing instead on the steaming kettle. "can't sleep?" he asked, his voice thick with the grogginess of early morning.

you nodded, your voice a whisper. "same dreams."

george's eyes softened with understanding. he padded over to the table and pulled out a chair, the legs scraping against the floor. "i know," he said, his voice barely above a murmur. "it's like he's still here, but every time i turn around, he's gone again."

you filled two cups with tea, the warmth of the porcelain comforting against your cold palms. you slid one across the table to him, and he took it with a nod of thanks. "it's just… i can't shake the feeling that i should have done more," you confessed, the words spilling out like a dam breaking. "i should have been able to save him."

george was silent for a long moment, the only sound the clinking of spoons against the sides of the cups as you both added sugar and stirred. "you can't blame yourself," he said finally, his voice gentle. "none of us could have seen that coming. it was war, and fred knew the risks."

you took a sip of your tea, the warmth spreading through you like a comforting embrace. "i know that," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "but it doesn't make it any easier."

george reached across the table and took your hand in his, his grip firm and reassuring. his thumb traced circles on the back of your hand, a silent gesture of comfort. his eyes met yours, and for the first time since the battle, you saw something other than pain and anger in them. there was a glimmer of understanding, a bridge built from shared grief. "you know," he began, his voice low and tentative, "after it happened, i kept thinking about all the times we argued, all the little things that didn't seem to matter. i wish i could take them all back, tell him how much he meant to me."

you nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. "i do too. i wish i could tell him how much i loved him."

george took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "you know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "fred had plans for after the war."

your heart skipped a beat. plans? what could fred have planned that you didn't know about? "what do you mean?"

george's gaze fell to the table, his thumb still moving in soothing circles on your hand. "he had a ring," he said, his voice barely audible. "he was going to ask you to marry him, after the war. said he couldn't wait any longer to make it official."

a cold shock washed over you. a ring? fred had wanted to marry you? you felt your breath catch in your throat, the reality of what you had lost sinking in even deeper. "what happened to it?" you managed to ask, your voice shaking.

george's eyes searched yours, and then he got up from his chair, leaving his hand on the table. "he hid it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "he didn't want to carry it with him in case…" his voice trailed off, and you could see the pain etched on his face. he disappeared from the room, leaving you sitting there, the cup of tea cooling in your hand, the words echoing in the silence.

a few moments later, he returned, a small, worn box in his hand. he placed it on the table between you, and you could see his hand tremble as he pushed it towards you. you picked it up, your heart racing. the box was old, the leather cracked and faded, the clasp stiff with disuse. you opened it, and there, nestled in the velvet, was the ring. it was a simple band of gold, with an intricate knot design, the kind that fred had always loved. a small diamond glinted in the early morning light, winking at you like a teardrop frozen in time.

you slid the ring onto your finger, and it fit perfectly, as if it had been made just for you. it was a strange sensation, a warmth that seemed to seep into your very soul, a final gift from fred that you hadn't expected. the weight of it felt right, like a piece of him that you could hold onto forever. you looked up at george, his eyes filled with a mix of pain and hope. "he picked it out himself, " he said, his voice thick with emotion. "he wanted you to know that you were it for him."

you didn't know what to say, so you just sat there, staring at the ring, feeling the warmth of fred's love through the metal. the silence stretched between you, filled with a thousand unspoken words. the sun was now fully up, casting a soft glow through the kitchen window, painting the room in shades of gold and amber. it was a moment that felt both surreal and achingly real, a moment that you knew would be etched into your memory forever.

finally, you found your voice. "thank you," you whispered, your eyes still fixed on the ring. "for telling me. for giving me this."

george nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "you were the best thing that ever happened to him," he said, his voice cracking. "i know he'd want you to have it."

you felt a lump form in your throat, unable to find the words to express your gratitude. instead, you leaned across the table and hugged him, feeling the warmth of his embrace, the comfort of his familiar scent, so much like fred's. it was a bittersweet moment, one that brought both solace and pain.

for a while, you sat there in silence, sipping your tea, the ring feeling like a lifeline to a past you could never quite touch again. but it was a lifeline you were grateful for, a tangible piece of fred that you could hold onto. as you sat with george, you realized that while you would never be able to fill the void left by fred's absence, you had each other. two broken halves of a whole, trying to find a new way to live in a world that had changed irrevocably.

[vipvesper]

the thrill of the hunt

pairing: fumikage tokoyami x cat quirk!reader

warnings: none!! :3

“sorry i pounced on you, just the thrill of the hunt!”

Children chatter in the courtyard, the sounds of dozens of conversations moving in sync with cheerful laughter. Ah, kindergarten. Those are the days.

Rather than playing with your friends or digging in the mud, your sharp eyes lock on a small, black figure—wait, no, two. The familiar caw of a raven comes from the one that floats, and you know you simply have to catch it. Staying low to the ground, you stalk.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer.

The kid-sized bird comes into view as you round the large oak tree it leans against. In one large leap, you tackle the book right out of a pair of remarkably human hands. Wait.

“Gotcha!” You exclaim, grabbing the oversized bird by the shoulders. This definitely isn’t right… Your eyes drift up to meet another pair.

“I would appreciate if you would unhand me,” requests Tokoyami. Whoops.

“Sorry!” Sharp claws retract back into normal nails as you back away, sitting on the plush green grass. “Thought you were a bird!”

The avian child stands up, brushing the glass clippings off his clothes. “It’s quite alright.” The shadow trailing from his stomach cowers behind him, big yellow eyes filled with fear. “Dark Shadow, it’s okay. It’s just [name].” Tokoyami’s gaze shifts back to you. “I’d prefer if you didn’t hunt me again in the future.”

But, things don’t go his way very often.

Tokoyami sits in his dorm staring at his phone. The gentle glow is a stark contrast to the foreboding aura of his room. He doesn’t notice the strip of yellow light push through the room, or the way his door opens without the hinges creaking. He doesn’t notice how you creep across the floor, the boards never squeaking. He certainly doesn’t notice the way your eyes gleam as they lock on his face. By the time he does, it’s too late. Your freshly-sharpened claws barely pierce his shirt, trapping him to his bed. Tokoyami’s feathers puff out in all directions like a porcupine.

“Gotcha, Fumi!” You gloat, giggling from your feat. The boy groans, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

“You really need to stop doing this, my love.” You shake your head, tail swishinng mischievously behind you

“Sorry I pounced on you, just the thrill of the hunt!” Tokoyami wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in.

He sighs, “I’m starting to believe you will never grow out of this habit of yours.”

“I don’t think I will either, birdbrain.”

[cinnahoons]

visions of gideon - (n. riki) 𖤓

— to love, is to trust.

p. criminal!nishimura riki x criminal!reader w. 2.8k

genres & warnings. angst, partners in crime, established relationship, guns, blood, death & killing, very slight character study, riki is complicated but reader gets it, tears and more tears, cussing, did i mention angst, this has been stuck in my pea brain for so long pls bear with me

“I won’t let anything happen.”

Rain pelts against the windows of the dark cabin. It cracks against glass like shards of ice, sharp and stabbing; a staccato of impending doom.

“Stop—acting like everything’s fine,” you snap, agitated. You’re cradling a pistol in your arms, huddled on the wooden floor with your knees up like they might shield you from your current predicament. It’s dark, dark enough that you can barely make out the ashen metal against your skin.

Riki turns around, silvery moonlight glistening across his black hair. It shimmers like a frozen lake; crystalline. He fixes you with an authoritative glare, one you can only outline by the grace of the moon.

“I need you to trust me, Y/N.”

Your eyes flutter shut, a deep breath coursing through your lungs in an attempt to quell the anger that simmers just below your collarbones.

“I do. That’s all I’ve been doing. Trusting you.” You toss your arms out, suddenly gesturing wildly around the dark cabin. “But this is different, Riki. This time, they have us. They fucking have us.”

Something like guilt flashes in his eyes for a passing moment, and then it’s gone. His jaw hardens.

“By the skin of their teeth,” he retorts, crossing the room to squat in front of you. His boots crack against the wood. “Listen. They have us surrounded, but we’re smarter than them. We have a straight shot from the cabin door to the trees. The lake isn’t much farther. We’ll swim it.”

You shake your head, tears welling in your eyes. The anger in your chest has given way to something heavier, sharper. Pure, unadulterated fear.

“It’s too dangerous. They’ll shoot us.”

Riki frowns, a marvelous thing. His arms come down to your shoulders, giving you a little shake. 

“You can’t cry now,” he scolds. “I told you, I’m not letting anything happen to you.”

You draw your lips into a line, hot tears slipping past the chapped skin. It’s infuriating. In all your years of skirting around danger with Riki; pulling off heists, sprinting down guarded alleys, gunfights with gangs looking to score the bounty on your heads…nothing has ever shaken you like this. You’ve never been compromised in this way, and it’s terrifying.

“But—what about you?”

A flash of white. Riki’s teeth; he’s smiling. He reaches behind his back, pulling out a dark, heavy pistol. 

“Nothing we haven’t handled before.”

You stare at it, eyes wet, before nodding slowly. He’s right. You’re not thinking straight. Youve done this before.

You reach a shaky hand down to your lap, wrapping your fingers around your own pistol. It’s cold and solid against your palm. Riki watches you with something careful in his eyes. It’s almost like he’s relieved that you’ve finally snapped into your usual resolve.

He stands up, beckoning you with his gun. The floor creaks as you both make your way to the door, guided by the light that flushes through the window. He signals you to stop.

“Remember, as soon as we step outside this door, they’ll close in. We need to move fast.”

You nod. Your neck feels stiff; cold. The rain outside has slowed. It sounds like a gentle drizzle now, taps against the window that are hardly noticeable. Your fingers flex  in anticipation.

You catch Riki’s eye as he leans into the door. He’s all sharp angles and deep shadows, but there’s a curiosity that seeps through him like sticky pine sap. He’s an enigma, really. Quietly self-assured but with a wide-eyed innocence all the same. It’s exactly why you fell in love with him. Why all those years ago; you followed him. Why you’ll follow him today.

“I love you,” you tell him, because you can. His brows soften.

“You can say that when we make it to the lake.”

You don’t say anything else. He’s said I love you back.

It’s what’s most important to him. To love, is to trust. There is no greater gift.

The door swings open.

The moonlight is odd now. Sickly. There’s an incessant buzz that you imagine the drizzle might sound like; a thousand roaring droplets. Run, they chant. Run for your life. 

Soil crunches beneath your feet. Are you running? You’re running. Riki is running.  

There’s a splintering to your left. No, to your right. Or was that behind you? 

Everything blurs around you. Shadowy forms lurk on your periphery, slinking around like in your particularly awful nightmares. A chill runs through your veins. And suddenly, there’s yelling. Loud, horrid sounds; a chorus of angry commands, and then—gunfire? A bullet whizzes past your ear. You duck, hissing.

“A thousand times, Y/N,” Riki yells over his shoulder. His gun fires loudly as he lifts his arm up and pulls the trigger. You think you see a body crumple to the ground. 

There he is. So sure. So trusting.

You lift your own gun, firing it at an agent that’s been popping up in your line of sight often enough to piss you off. He grunts, shoulder flying back as he stumbles, wounded. 

There’s a commotion to your left, a cluster of agents that have broken off together and are firing in your direction. Their bullets crack like dynamite in the night air, loud and bright. 

A searing pain shoots through your leg as one of the bullets grazes your skin. You stumble, but Riki is there, grabbing your arm and pulling you forward. 

“Keep moving!” He shouts, his voice laced with urgency. 

You grit your teeth. There’s a feeling blooming in your chest, a sort of technicolor that winds and oozes around your bones. It tells you to push through the pain.

There’s a spattering of trees not too far ahead. They offer some semblance of cover, but the agents are relentless. One lunges from the side, giving you a hair's-breadth of a second to react. You twist, slamming the butt of your gun into his face. He drops with a groan, but the others are quick to follow.

Your grip tightens. Together, you and Riki press forward, firing off bullets in quick succession. Each shot is calculated, deliberate. Another agent falls, then another.  

There’s a dark blur, and then suddenly Riki is being tackled to the floor. He hits the ground hard, gun flying out of his hand. An agent has him pinned.

“Riki,” you gasp.

You try to fire at the agent, but the shot goes wide. He grins, pressing his advantage, but Riki manages to get an arm free, grabbing a rock and smashing it to his temple. The agent slumps immediately, unconscious, and Riki shoves him off with a groan.

You grab him by the arm after he grabs his gun, pulling him along while bullets zip past. He curses loudly, turning to you with bright, clear eyes.

“We need to split up,” he says, breathless. “They won’t follow us both.”

“No fucking way,” you argue, but he’s already breaking away, squeezing your hand before he’s yelling loudly at a group of agents. They charge at him, guns aimed.

You take a short, squeezing breath. With Riki distracting them, you have a chance to make it to the grove of trees just before the lake. You press on, a dull ache spreading through your leg with every sharp jolt of boot to soil. Wind whips across your face. The rain is gone now, but the darkness still makes it difficult to see where you’re going. 

You lose count of how long you’ve been running when your surroundings change from practically barren, vast land to the dense forest that Riki had mentioned earlier. There’s a whirring sound in your ears, damp air escaping your mouth when you collapse against a large tree trunk. It’s even darker here, pale moonlight barely reaching through the dense foliage overhead. A cold sweat drips down your back; you can feel your heartbeat in your leg.

Looking down, you finally catch sight of what damage the bullet inflicted. There’s a fleshy pink hole visible through the fabric of your pants from where the bullet grazed you, dark red blood pooling over it. You dart your eyes up to the sky, stomach turning. The pain is dull, probably from the adrenaline. It’s going to be a real bitch later.

Now, sitting here, the forest is quiet—alarmingly so. You belatedly realize that maybe you should be pushing on towards the lake, but you can’t bring yourself to strain upwards onto your feet. Your head falls back against the tree trunk, willing yourself to take steady breaths as your head swims with exhaustion. 

A rustle in the underbrush snaps you to attention. Your heart flips, fear flooding your senses. You reach silently for your gun, aiming it shakily at the source of the noise. There’s a shifting in the shadows, and then a figure emerges—it’s Riki. Your arm falls, relief washing over you in waves.

“Riki,” you whisper. “You’re okay.”

His eyes widen when he sees you, and he rushes over, boots crunching as he crouches beside you. He lays his gun on the ground, hands ghosting over your extended leg.

“I lost them,” he mutters distractedly. “Damn it, Y/N.”

His eyes are dark and narrowed, glazed over with concern. You let a little shiver wrack over your body before hardening your jaw.

“It’s just a graze,” you say, trying to sound more convinced than you are. “I can still walk.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment before his eyes flick up to meet yours.

“We still need to swim the lake. Can you do it?”

You pause, and then you try to smile at him. It comes off more like a grimace.

“That should clean it out,” you joke.

Riki frowns, eyes dropping to your leg again.

“Funny,” he deadpans. 

His next movements are swift. He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a pocket knife. He grabs the bottom hem of his shirt, slicing a long piece of fabric. The knife falls, and he moves toward your leg. Gingerly, he lifts it up, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of distress. When he’s met with nothing, he wraps the fabric around your leg, above your wound. Tying it, he pulls it tight enough to act as a tourniquet. 

“This won’t help for long, but it’s something,” he murmurs, voice low. “We’ll get you to the medical contact I have as soon as we’re out of here, okay?”

You nod, slightly sluggish. Riki moves closer to you, reaching his arm around your back and using his shoulder to hoist you up so that you’re finally standing again. You breathe evenly, focusing on the feeling of your boots on the ground.

“We need to keep moving,” he tells you, his voice apologetic. You sigh.

“I know. Let’s get on with it.” 

Immediately, Riki tries to wrap an arm around your shoulders to have you lean on him, but you shake your head.

“Just—let me do this,” you tell him, putting a little distance between the two of you. “I don’t fall down that easy.”

He raises a speculative brow, but seems to think better of trying to argue with you. Instead, he turns around silently, keeping his gun close at his side. 

The two of you walk in silence for a while, the only audible sounds being the various chirps and buzzing of whatever insects live in the forest. It’s colder now, too, the type of cold that comes after a bountiful rain. It’s sharp and biting. You pull the jacket you’ve been wearing a little tighter to your chest.

There’s something bothering you. It’s like an itch, maybe. A senseless, baseless thing. It crawls up the length of your spine and sends a rigid, uneasy feeling to lodge itself at the bottom of your throat. You wonder—is it your leg? The blood loss must be causing ghost sensations to travel all around your body. You feel them, but they’re not there. That must be it.

But then there’s the chill. The knowing.

How long have you and Riki been walking?

How long have you and Riki been walking towards the lake?

How long have you and Riki been walking towards the lake, without looking back?

A gun clicks. Your blood runs cold.

When you turn around, nothing feels real. There’s a man; an agent. He’s alone. He steps out from behind a large tree, his gun trained directly on you. The forest seems to hold its breath. The agent’s eyes are shadowy, a cruel smirk playing upon his lips. He cocks his head at you, mocking.

“Riki,” you choke out. You can barely hear your own voice through the sound of blood roaring in your ears.

Riki’s boots scuff from behind you as he comes to what you assume to be a languid stop. You can hear a trickle of fondness in his voice when he speaks.

“Are you finally coming to your senses and letting me—”

A terrible, screeching halt. You blink, but your eyes feel numb. Trust, trust, trust. To love is to trust. You trusted him, he trusted you. You’ve tiptoed to the eleventh hour, and now the axe must fall.

“Don’t do this,” you rasp.

A deafening blast sends a flurry of birds up through the canopy. 

There’s a lily. 

It’s dripping rainwater. You try to reach out and touch it, but you have three-thousand arms and two-thirds of your fingers. A pale halo of light caresses its milky petals, illuminating a spattering of iridescent droplets.

No.

Are you allowed to touch it? Or must good things stay unaltered?

No, please.

It’s okay, you think, to just be content with watching it from where you are. There’s no sense in disturbing what has been or what could have been.

Three perfect droplets roll right off the beautiful lily, plopping earnestly on your cheek. How did they get there? They’re salty, your skin says.

A dark shadow engulfs your vision.

When your eyes flutter open, Riki is crouched over you. 

His hands fly uselessly over your abdomen, fingers stained scarlet. You can feel his frame against your body, shaking. And when you take a wheezing breath, his eyes fly up to yours. There are wet marks on his cheeks, like tears had had their way with him. 

“Jesus fuck,” he moves fast, cupping his trembling hands against either side of your face. They leave bloody prints on your skin. “Just—stay with me,” he pleads, his voice cracking.

You swallow in your throat, your eyes moving sluggishly to the area in front of you. The agent who shot you is crumpled in an awkward pile on the ground, a gory hole drilled into the center of his forehead. You have to fight the urge to smile. It hurts too much to move more than your eyes, anyway. 

Riki brushes hair off your face, causing your gaze to snap back over. His eyes look so different to what you remember. Where there was once a somber serenity, there is now an ocean of uncertainty; glistening with more unshed tears. You make a sound in the back of your throat.

Riki’s hands tremble harder against your skin. They slip and slide as he tries to caress your cheek. It’s almost pathetic.

“I know it—I know it hurts, Y/N. Just…” he pauses, cursing under his breath. “You can’t leave, okay? You’re not ready. I’m not ready.”

You can see it now—the boy inside him. He’s only eighteen, burdened by a life he chose with you years ago; a choice, which was made under bitter loneliness, and disguised by ardor. 

Trust is his vice, because it’s all he’s never known.

Slowly, and with all the strength you can muster, you bring a cold, shaky hand up towards your face, cupping the back of his own and leaning your head towards it as much as you can. He lets a quiet sob wrack through his body. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers fiercely. “I’m so sorry. You trusted me.”

I don’t blame you, is what you wish you could say. Instead, your eyelids droop with a heaviness so extreme that they fall shut. Riki jolts immediately, his futile hands scrabbling for purchase against your face, trying desperately to keep you awake.

“Stop trying to die on me,” his voice is barely a whisper. Your eyes flicker open.

But then his face falls more, if that’s even possible. Guilt will eat him alive.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I love you. All you did was love me back.”

You try to shake your head, but nothing moves. Riki’s eyes fall shut for a brief moment.

“You can rest.” The words ring muffled in your ears. “It’s going to be okay.”

You think you can feel a kiss pressed against your cheek, but, oh, the lily is back, and you think you’d like to go off after it. It holds you close to its chest.

And, even in death, there is nobody you trust more.

copyright ©cinnahoons

tags! @vousty @hittoki @neos127 @junityy

[ghost-1-y]

Aphrodisiac

Witch!Shinobu x AFAB!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, sexual content, unprotected sex, mistress/slut dynamic, dom!Shinobu, sub!reader, cunnilingus (Shinobu receiving), scissoring, squirting, cum-eating(?), spanking as punishment, aphrodisiac, thigh riding, hair pulling, degradation (reader-receiving), lighthearted Sanemi slander, lmk if I missed anything!!

Summary: Your girlfriend usually spends all day cooped up in your shared cabin brewing potions and studying spells, and, of course, placing the occasional hex on someone she doesn’t particularly like. One day, when you return to your home deep in the woods, you find that she has come up with a rather…interesting potion recipe, and wishes for both of you to try it out together.

Word Count: ~2.6k

Divider Credit: @/benkeibear

The woven basket you carried was slowly getting heavier as you trudged along the hidden trail that led you deeper into the woods, the soft crunch of the leaves a delightful sound which rang again and again with each step you took. Above, there was the loud staccato of a woodpecker looking for its next meal, and ravens soared overhead as they returned to their nest before sundown.

The red and orange foliage was mesmerizing, something you always looked forward to in the autumnal months of the year. It also signaled the beginnings of cooler weather, after the dreadful heat that summer brought upon the land. You hummed to yourself, singing melodic tunes that you’d heard since you were young – lullabies which would silence the cries of any newborn child. 

As you continued your way into the forest, you stopped to collect herbs and vegetation you found on the trail – finding mushrooms and gourds growing wild near trees, as well as the occasional set of animal bones left behind by some predator. It may have weighed down your basket even more, but the look on your girlfriend’s face would be worth it after a day away from the cabin you two lived in together.

Your eyes eventually caught a plume of smoke rising above the trees, as a small oak wood cabin appeared within the forest, surrounded by shrubs and flowers. You walked up the mossy stone pathway that led to the entrance, the door opening for you without having to knock, sensing your familiar energy as you walked closer.

The soft crackling of the fireplace was soothing as you walked inside and placed your basket on the wooden table – organizing the items you’d picked up both from the forest floor as well as the farmer’s market in the nearby village – where you’d purchased foods for the upcoming week. You brought the foodstuffs into your shared kitchen, putting them away into their proper places before gathering the remaining items and carrying them upstairs, the soft creak of each step you took giving away the age in which the cabin was built.

You knocked on the door that led to your girlfriend’s bedroom, hearing a soft “come in” before entering. She was, as usual, at her desk – looking through what seemed to be a spell book with unbroken focus.

Her room was enchanting, her shelves lined with books about herbology and magick, as well as jars filled with various ingredients that she’d use for potion making. Her black cat was sitting on the comforter of her bed, eyes watching you as you walked over to her desk.

“I’m back, ‘Nobu,” you gave her a quick kiss on her cheek before placing your basket on her desk, “I brought you some ingredients, I hope they’ll be of some use to you!”

She turned to you, a faint smile on her lips as she peered through what the basket contained, taking out various herbs and anything else you gathered for her on your walk home.

��Thank you, love, I appreciate this,” she spoke softly, “I’m sure I’ll find good use for them.”

You grinned and sat down on her bed, her cat walking over to you before sitting in your lap, allowing you to pet it. A comfortable silence ensued, you watching her study whatever spell she was working on, with nothing but the faint sounds of the fireplace from the living room and the soft purrs from the cat in your lap filling the air.

“I saw Sanemi flirting with your sister the other day,” you mused, watching the way her shoulders tensed, “he was so awkward with the whole thing, it was hilarious to watch honestly.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to hex him so he won’t be able to shit for the next week,” she responded, and you giggled. Shinobu was always protective of her older sister, which you admired, but you found it slightly amusing what lengths she’d sometimes go to display such protection.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate you for that, ‘Nobu,” you smiled, and she continued her reading.

“I wanted to ask you about something, love,” she paused, “unrelated to Shinazugawa’s poor flirting skills.”

You laughed, “I’m listening.”

“However, I’d like for you to tell me if you trust me first,” she said.

You looked at her, briefly stopping the soft pets you were giving her cat, “of course I trust you, Shinobu,” you said seriously, “you’ve never given me a reason not to. I trust you fully.”

You could see some of the tension melt from her shoulders, relief seemingly filling her veins as she turned to you, her violet eyes searching yours.

“I’ve come up with a new potion,” she started.

“Really? What properties does it have?” you asked, and a faint smile appeared on her face.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I incorporated ingredients that are initially used for love potions, such as rosewater, rose petals, and cinnamon, however, I got curious and added some other ingredients to it as well.”

“Like what?” you asked curiously.

“Shatavari, maca root – both of which I ground into a powder, as well as damiana…which, if you’ve listened to my ramblings or have gone through my herbology books, you’d know that these are–”

“Aphrodisiacs,” you finished for her, your interest peaked, “and you created a potion out of these ingredients?”

“Yes,” Shinobu answered, “from what I could tell given the results of it, it’s a very potent lust potion, and I was wondering–”

“Do you want to drink it together?” you blurted out, slightly flushed from both the idea as well as the obvious eagerness in your tone.

She hesitated, “only if you’re completely fine with it, I know this is something new for both of us, so I just wanted to make sure–”

“Yes, when can we start?”

A slight smirk appeared on her face, before getting up from her desk and walking towards one of her shelves and pulling out two jars with a pink-tinted liquid inside them. She handed one of them to you, and turned her back for just a second to sit down on her bed.

“Honestly, one sip should be enough to cause the desired effects, so just–” she paused, eyes widening and mouth agape as she realized you’d already downed half of the entire jar.

You looked at her, fear in your eyes, “um…it’s not gonna kill me, right?” 

She shook her head, “no, but…oh fuck it,” she exclaimed, before downing nearly half of it herself. 

An awkward silence ensued, both of you waiting for the other to start exhibiting symptoms.

“Uh…’Nobu, I love you, but…are you sure this is gonna work?” you asked, and she rolled her eyes.

“Yes, I’m certain it should work. I highly doubt that any of the ingredients would cancel each other out.”

“Okay, well…I hope I didn’t just drink that gross liquid for nothin—oh fuck–!” you jolted, careening over as you went to hug yourself, a searing hot sensation bubbled deep within your gut. Startled by your sudden movement, Shinobu’s cat crawled out of your grasp and left the room. You looked over at Shinobu with widened eyes, nervous considering how strong the reaction was, and she looked slightly concerned before going into a fetal-like position herself, seemingly dealing with a similar situation as you were.

The feeling of heat in the lower part of your abdomen began to radiate, spreading to other parts of your body. You shuddered, starting to become irritated by the clothes you were wearing – your skin just felt so sensitive. Without hesitating, you removed your outer layers, leaving you in nothing but a bra and panties. Shinobu eyed you hungrily from her position on the bed, seemingly liking the idea of removing her own clothes as well – taking off the butterfly-patterned cardigan that was a gift from her sister, as well as the rest of her outfit. A blush spread across her cheeks, panting from her increased heart rate as well as the heat that seemed to fill each and every crevice of the room.

“Well, I knew the effects would be strong, but–” Shinobu gasped, “this is more than what I originally anticipated.”

“Kiss me, ‘Nobu, please.”

She didn’t waste any time, her hand going behind your neck and pulling you into her, kissing you fervently. She forced her tongue into your mouth, causing you to moan as she used it to massage and caress your tongue. She brought her hands to your breasts, roughly tweaking at your nipples and pinching them, the pain mixing with the pleasure and sensitivity of each touch she gave you.

Your moans were wanton as she fondled your breasts, grinding against her thigh as your panties grew wetter – barely even able to taste the friction due to how slick it was between your thighs. She slapped one of your tits, before taking her bra off and pulling you down by your hair so you could suck on hers while she continued to grope your own. You took one of her tits in your mouth, moaning at how soft and supple her skin was before sucking at it, earning a moan from her as she grabbed a fistful of your hair.

“Such a good slut for your mistress, aren’t you?” she cooed, and you whined around her nipple, licking and softly biting at it just as she liked. Her head tilted back, as she took her free hand and placed it between her legs, rubbing at her own clit to get herself off as you moved to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention that you gave the first before reaching up to kiss her once more.

Your hips continued to grind down on Shinobu’s thigh, your movements getting faster as you listened to her moans. Suddenly, without warning, you were cumming – nearly choking on your own saliva from how unexpected it was. You got lost in your own pleasure, fucking yourself on her smooth skin, moaning deeply into Shinobu’s mouth. Once you came down from your high, you noticed that Shinobu was eerily quiet. You opened your eyes, swallowing thickly at the disapproving look she gave you.

“Did I give you permission to cum, slut?” she asked, demanding that you answer.

“No–” you breathed shakily, “no, mistress.”

If Shinobu was feeling the same effects of the potion as you were, she was damn good at hiding it, because she readjusted her position and patted her lap, beckoning you to crawl over it.

“Do you know what happens to sluts who don’t obey?” she asked, her voice sickeningly sweet given the foul words that were coming out of her mouth.

“They– they get punished,” you stuttered, and she nodded.

“That’s right, bad sluts get punished. I want you on all fours and crawled over my lap, do you understand?”

You nodded meekly and obeyed her command, arching your back as she traced her hand down your body, eventually reaching the fullness of your ass. She grabbed a handful of your flesh before pulling her hand back and landing a slap on your ass, earning a small yelp from you. The smacks continued, as she alternated between your ass cheeks with each slap, both proudly displaying a blooming redness as she punished you.

“Ah– ‘Nobu please…’t hurts,” you whined, despite obviously arching your back even more so she could continue. 

“Oh, I know, baby, but you have to understand that good sluts are ones who don’t cum without permission. Does your dumb little brain know that yet? Or are you just a mindless cum whore who needs to be fucked?”

“Mmmh— need you, ‘Nobu.”

Shinobu sighed, “obviously you’re too fucked out to comprehend anything I’m saying. But, you’re lucky, ‘cause I– I need to cum just as much as you do,” she started to pant, the effects of the potion slowly addling her brain as well. “Get off my lap, I’m gonna fuck you now ‘mkay?” 

You crawled off of her and laid on your back, legs spread as she moved herself between them, holding one of your legs as her pussy pressed against yours – both of you gasping at the feeling of copious amounts of slick leaking out of each of your cunts. Shinobu started to grind down onto you, gasping and moaning with each brush her clit made against your pussy. You whined, starting to buck your own hips to increase the friction she was creating.

It wasn’t enough.

Shinobu’s movements quickened, wanting, needing more – more friction, more pleasure, more you.

Her head fell back, her gasps and moans dripping from her mouth as her grinding became second nature, unable to stop or slow down even if she wanted to. The mattress creaked with each thrust, knocking the headboard against the wall with each buck of her hips against your sweet cunt. 

Your legs were shaking, one of them only being held up due to Shinobu’s grip on it – an attempt at stabilizing herself. Each brush of her cunt against your clit caused fresh tears to fall down your cheeks, your mouth permanently agape and emitting the smallest moans as you lost control over your voice. 

Eventually, Shinobu wasn’t able to hold herself up anymore, collapsing on top of you as she ground into your pussy, seeking your lips with hers as wanton moans escaped both of your lips.

“Fu– Fuck, baby I– shit,” she moaned, kissing you sloppily, the warmth in her gut unrelenting as she fucked you. 

You whined in response, babbling being the most you could do from how drunk you were from her pussy. Your abdomen tensed, feeling the familiar buildup inside of your stomach. 

“Nngh– ‘Nobu, I– I’m gonna–!” you whined. 

Her breath was hot against your ear as she panted. “Cum for me, slut.”

It was too much – by the time she brushed up against your clit once more, you felt a sudden rush of fluid gushing out of your cunt, causing a spike of pleasure unparalleled to anything you’ve felt before. You let out a high pitched whine as it sprayed all over Shinobu’s pussy, gasping for air as it messily dripped down both of your thighs. 

“Oh my– you’re such a filthy slut aren’t you?” she smirked, and you flushed red with embarrassment, “come clean up your mess, pet– I won’t let you go until you do.” 

Whimpering, you crawled out from under her and placed your head in between her thighs, sloppily licking up the mess you made on her pussy, swallowing everything you lapped up. Her soft moans encouraged you, moving up to suck on her clit before licking your tongue in circles around it. Her legs trembled on either side of you as you greedily swallowed all of the juices that leaked out of her, inserting two fingers inside of her cunt just to collect more of her sweetness on your tongue. You felt her tense above you, and a moan escaped her throat as she gushed all over your mouth, soft whines filling the air as you lapped up all that she gave you.

“Such a good slut f’ me…” she breathed, and you smiled as you licked the last of her up, earning a few more whines from the overstimulation you were causing her. You kissed her thigh before resting your head on her stomach, her fingers slowly brushing through your hair as she laid back on her bed, a sense of calmness filling the room as the burning effects of the potion slowly wore off.

“Mmh…love you ‘Nobu,” you mumbled, eyes closing due to how fatigued you were. She sighed, her own exhaustion becoming apparent as you relaxed against her.

“Love you more, my dear, always will,” she said softly, eyes slowly drifting shut as you both peacefully fell asleep in each others’ embrace.

Taglist: @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a, @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @crazycatlddy, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @kyojurismo, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701 (if your name is crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you - apologies for the inconvenience)

[chiqelatasblog]

In the Middle Of the Night🌙

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Part One is here.

Pairings : Bi-Han/ Sub-Zero x You, Kuai Liang/ Scorpion x You, Tomas Vrbada/ Smoke x You

Author’s Note: Hey there everyone! First of all, I’m beyond excited by the interest you’ve shown in my fic. Thank you so much! I poured all my love into this chapter, and I’m incredibly proud of the result. This bad boy clocks in at over 10k words, so buckle up and enjoy the ride! Happy reading!

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I summoned you, please come to me,

Don’t bury thoughts that you really want.

I fill you up, drink from my cup,

Within me lies what you really want.

CHAPTER TWO : TOMAS

Tomas had always harbored a discomfort with darkness.

One vivid childhood memory was the time he and his twin sister sneaked out of the house to fish by the creek. They had visited this place with their mother many times before, surrounded by tall grasses and dense trees lining the riverbanks. In addition to fishing, they splashed in the stream as the spring weather warmed the water, engaging in playful water fights and skipping stones. However, they had not anticipated the difficulty of finding their way home after nightfall. Time seemed to slip away unnoticed until the sun vanished, leaving behind only faint orange rays. Amidst the sounds of creatures in the dark and the dim moonlight, Tomas found himself more frightened than ever. Seeking refuge beneath the shelter of a towering oak tree, he and his twin waited anxiously for the morning light without daring to blink.

Another poignant memory was his first night after being adopted by the Lin Kuei following the tragic loss of his parents. Given a room of his own within the clan’s compound, it marked a stark contrast to the cramped quarter he shared with his sister at home—a small room with a cold-leaking window and a wooden floor that creaked with every step. Despite the spaciousness of his new accommodations, the room only served to accentuate his overwhelming sense of loneliness. Confusion, fear, and sorrow weighed heavily upon him, compounded by the haunting memories of his family’s demise. The image of his mother’s final gaze, the sound of her voice uttering his name as she drew her last breath, remained painfully fresh in Tomas’s mind. Standing alone in the darkness, he hesitated to emerge from the refuge of his hidden position, fearing the harsh reality that awaited him—a reality that felt more like a terrible nightmare than the truth.

Later that same night, Kuai Liang, the son of the grandmaster, whom Tomas had only glimpsed out of the corner of his eye and estimated to be a few years older than himself, sought him out. Tomas never expected anyone to visit his room, especially someone whose language, lifestyle, and appearance were so foreign to him. Despite being a complete stranger, Kuai Liang persisted in his efforts to communicate with him.

Over the years, Tomas had learned to leave the past behind and devote himself to the Lin Kuei with unwavering respect and loyalty. He seized every opportunity for growth, not limiting himself to combat training alone. In addition to mastering multiple languages, he immersed himself in various fields of knowledge, receiving specialized education ranging from geography to mathematics. Inspired by his brothers, Tomas aspired to become a formidable assassin, striving to emulate their strength and steadfastness. His determination to bridge the gap and prove himself led him to seek training in magic from clan elders. Before long, he mastered the art of smoke magic, earning his code name in the process.

As time passed, Tomas emerged as one of Lin Kuei’s most skilled assassins, earning the respect and admiration of his peers. Though differences still lingered between him and his brothers, they no longer served as barriers; instead, they became markers of individual experiences and growth. Tomas gained renown for his stealth and speed during missions, aided by his mastery of the smoke magic for concealment. Yet, he also understood the value of leveraging shadows for support. Through discipline and practice, he learned to embrace the darkness, transforming his fear into a potent weapon.

Until Quan Chi sealed him and his brothers inside the book…

Tomas couldn’t recall the last time he had been free. It must have been ages ago. While he had anticipated the relief of escaping, the reality proved disorienting. After spending so long confined within the book’s pages, reentering the world was akin to landing on an alien planet. Colors seemed brighter, sensations felt unfamiliar, and even the taste of things seemed strange.

It had only been a day or two since they emerged from the book’s depths. During that time, Tomas had been reluctant to close his eyes, fearing a return to the vast darkness that had engulfed him for so long. In the book, there was only emptiness—a void that left him disoriented and disconnected from time and reality. The experience had shattered his ability to cope with darkness; although it was bad to have a new master, he would prefer this situation to eternal darkness.

Inside the book, the only connection to the outside world was through sounds, which provided a vague sense of the passage of time. Now, sitting in the living room, an overwhelming surge of pent-up energy coursed through him. He longed to move, to run, to stretch his limbs freely. Yet, his heightened senses left him feeling overwhelmed by the outside world. It was as if everything had become too much to bear at once, triggering a cascade of emotions.

Such experiences were not uncommon when they remained dormant for extended periods. It took several days for them to readjust. Kuai Liang, in particular, struggled with the transition. His pyromancer abilities meant his metabolism was faster than both him and Bi-Han’s, making the initial days a nightmare as he grappled with an accumulation of pent-up energy. Bi-Han fared better in comparison, his cryomancer abilities allowing him to maintain control despite the prolonged dormancy.

“Are you all right?” Tomas inquired, glancing at his brother who sat a little distance away. Drops of sweat glistened on Kuai Liang’s forehead, his face flushed. His usually dark hair, kept in a bun, was now disheveled, with tufts of hair glued to his skin due to sweat. Despite his typically bronze skin, it appeared pale under the strain of his condition, a deep frown creased his brow, accentuating the thick veins that bulged on his neck from the tension of his clenched jaw. He spoke in a muffled voice, his fists tightly gripping the cushion beneath him.

“It’s more intense compared to the previous ones. It’s becoming increasingly difficult for me to cope.” Kuai Liang muttered, his voice strained.

“You should lie down on the sofa,” Tomas suggested, rising from his seat and closing the distance between them in an instant. “Standing like this isn’t good for you. Let me help.”

“I’m fine,” Kuai Liang insisted stubbornly, his words almost a hiss through clenched teeth. “It’ll pass soon.”

“We both know it’ll take a few days,” Tomas reasoned gently. “Come on, lie down and stop being so stubborn. You need to rest.”

“I’ve been inactive enough already from being trapped in that damn book.”

“And now you need to rest so your body can recover.”

“Is everything all right?” Your soft voice floated from the entrance of the room, drawing Tomas’s attention. You stood there in an old plush robe, your legs and feet bare beneath your long nightgown. The bandages he wrapped around your legs from the first night they emerged from the book still in place. Like him, your face was colorless, and the purple rings under your eyes betrayed the sleeplessness you shared with them.

“Kuai Liang?” Bi-Han’s sudden appearance next to you, like a dark, silent shadow, caused you to jump in place with a start. Tomas observed your startled reaction, your eyes reflecting fear at Bi-Han’s sudden presence. Since they emerged from the book, they had noticed your agitated demeanor and your constant efforts to maintain a clear distance from them. It was evident in every gesture that you had yet to adapt to the situation and were still struggling to accept what was happening.

As Bi-Han approached them with purposeful strides, he rested his hand on his brother’s forehead, from which a thin, cold smoke wafted. Upon contact, a sizzling sound filled the room as cold and heat met. Kuai Liang’s eyes closed with a slight sense of relief, his tense posture relaxing slightly. Bi-Han’s expression remained stern.

“You’re burning,” Bi-Han remarked, his dark gaze fixed on his brother. “How long has he been like this?”

“For about half an hour, he suddenly relapsed. When he insists on not resting—”

“Nonsense. We both know you’re not going to get through this without lying down somewhere, Kuai Liang. Don’t be stubborn and do as you’re told.”

“What’s going on?” You hesitantly approached them, your anxious eyes shifting between Kuai Liang, who was breathing rapidly and starting to sweat profusely, and the two brothers. “Is he ill?”

As Bi-Han gave you a piercing, stern look, you stumbled back a step. Tomas felt a surge of anger at his brother’s harsh demeanor. Bi-Han had always been somewhat rude and obstinate; as the grandmaster before being trapped in the book, he was accustomed to looking down on others, being condescending, and considering everyone except the Lin Kuei as worthless. This attitude had persisted over the years, even when they served various masters of the book.

Many masters had attempted to break his demeanor and relished in the opportunity, but when they realized Bi-Han could not be tamed, both he and Kuai Liang were held accountable for his actions. That was when Bi-Han had to learn to control his sharp tongue and condescending gaze. But when it comes to you, you seem different from the masters who came and went. You were an ordinary person, with neither unusual strength nor fighting skills to suggest you knew how to protect yourself.

Tomas had scrutinized you closely the first day he emerged from the book and quickly formed a profile. Your physique seemed too delicate to be that of a warrior, and your gaze exuded kindness and compassion. The fact that you didn’t assert any authority over them indicated you might be harmless. While he hesitated to fully embrace this belief, it often proved true when reality differed from their initial assumptions. This made Bi-Han’s treatment of you seem inappropriate and cruel.

“Kuai Liang is a pyromancer, master,” Tomas interjected, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them. “When he’s unable to release his power for an extended period, it accumulates inside him, causing sensory overload and physical strain.”

As Tomas explained in simpler terms, given your unfamiliarity with their world, another layer of concern clouded your expression.

“Oh, I see. That sounds truly awful. Does the same situation apply to you?”

Bi-Han had been on the verge of making a rude remark once again, but Tomas acted swiftly to prevent him from further upsetting you. “No, our powers and metabolic rates vary among us.”

“Then is there anything I can do for Kuai Liang? I have antipyretics and painkillers; perhaps they might help.”

“Are you daft, woman? We’re dealing with a man whose metabolism is four times faster than normal. Do you think mere drugs will affect him?”

“I-I just wanted to help.”

“You’d be of greater help by not interfering,”

The moment Bi-Han hurled the words at you with a tongue as sharp as a knife, Tomas watched you swallow silently and your eyes glistened with tears for a moment. His chest ached with a slight pain for you, whom he had never known; you stood so vulnerable and small in front of them. But you collected your composure quickly, surprising him, squaring your shoulders and lifting your head.

“He can sleep in my bed until he’s better. It’ll be more comfortable than the couch. Can you move him there?”

***

After they carried Kuai Liang to your room and Bi-Han pulled a chair next to him, settling in, Tomas returned to the living room with you.

“He hates me.” you muttered in a hoarse voice.

“He hates everyone.” Tomas replied, realizing you were referring to Bi-Han. With a pillow tucked under one arm and a not-too-thick, pink-purple patterned blanket in the other, you prepared the makeshift bed on the couch.

With a sigh, you settled onto the end of the couch, which Kuai Liang had been using as a bed for the past few days. While he and Kuai Liang shared the living room, Bi-Han had taken refuge in your study. Your house was quite small, and Tomas had initially doubted whether they could all fit in here.

“If I hadn’t been protected by the book, he would have torn me in half already, wouldn’t he?”

“It can’t be said that he gets along well with strangers,” Tomas replied politely. “He needs time, master.” As the last word slipped from his lips in the usual manner, he observed your gentle expression falter, your lips pressing together into a straight line. He knew you disliked being addressed that way, but after years of habit, it was difficult for him to remove it from his vocabulary. His body ached with a twinge of pain for disobeying your request once again—a never-ending side effect of the curse. They had to obey their masters unconditionally, and if they did not, and this situation persisted, their suffering increased exponentially.

“Tomas, please don’t call me that. I am not your master, and it makes me very uncomfortable every time you address me as such.”

“I’m sorry,” Tomas murmured in a low voice, avoiding your gaze as he stared out at the nighttime landscape of tall buildings and colorful lights beyond the window. “It’s just a habit.”

“There’s no need to apologize. I just want you to know that there are no distinct classes between us. We are equals.” You leaned back against the armrest, pulling your knees toward your stomach and wrapping your arms around yourself. “It’s very strange. I haven’t slept a wink since yesterday, and yet I still don’t feel like I can sleep.”

When Tomas turned his gaze back to you, he noticed your tired eyes staring into emptiness. He could imagine how surreal and overwhelming the unfolding events must have sounded from your perspective. Moreover, sharing your home with three unfamiliar, burly men, and constantly feeling on edge because of Bi-Han, must have added to your nerves.

“So do I.” Tomas replied after a moment, joining you. “I’ve been inside the book for so long that it’s hard to believe I’m out now.”

“If you don’t mind, may I ask how long you’ve been there?”

“What year is it?” He asked.

“Two thousand twenty-four.”

“Then it has been nearly two years since we last emerged.”

Your eyes widened in horror at his response.

“Two years? That’s terrible! What have you been doing all this time in the book? Is there any way you can pass the time?”

The question sounded so innocent to Tomas’s ears that he almost wanted to laugh. It was the first time he had encountered a master like you—a master who, despite having the power to use them as mere tools, condoned Bi-Han’s rude behavior and tried to create a small comfort zone to help Kuai Liang through the process. Even though you knew the power you held over them, you chose not to exploit it fully. If you had wanted to, you could have expelled Bi-Han, and even him and Kuai Liang, from your home. After all, they had no choice but to obey your orders if they wished to avoid excruciating pain.

They hadn’t revealed this detail to you yet, as it was too valuable and represented one of their greatest vulnerabilities. However, whether you were aware of this information or not didn’t change the truth. By opening your home to them and engaging in conversation with Tomas, you were trying to understand the situation despite the risks involved. He doubted every now and then, as you seemed so sincere. You cannot act all the time, can you? As he was a professional in reading people, he couldn’t be entirely sure about you.

“No, we can only wait until our new master reads the words in the book,” Tomas explained.

“How so?” Your eyes widened slightly. “Can’t you do anything?”

“No, except for waiting in the dark, we can only sometimes hear voices coming from outside the book. This helps us understand where we are, and sometimes even the year.”

“God, this is—this is so cruel… How have you been able to maintain your sanity until today? This is officially torture.”

He also pondered the answer to this question himself. If he had been sealed inside that book alone, Tomas doubted he would be capable of forming coherent sentences right now. It would be a miracle if he could even speak.

“My brothers… Without them, it would have been inevitable that I would have lost my mind,” he admitted through clenched teeth. “But sometimes even that is not enough. That’s why we pressured you to read the book when you found it.”

“I thought I was going to die of fear at that moment,” you confessed in a low voice, cheeks slightly flushed, as you turned away from him and focused on your clasped hands. “But I’m glad I made you get out of there after hearing what you’ve told me. I hope I can help you break this curse as well.”

Tomas remained silent, grappling with uncertainty about the sincerity of your words. They had encountered similar displays of kindness before. In the past, there was a master they believed to be compassionate and well-intentioned, who had convinced them to lower their guards and give their trust a chance. They had fallen for gentle touches, pleas instead of commands, sweet compliments, and precious gifts. Even Bi-Han, typically skeptical, had thought that previous master was different.

But they were mistaken. They soon discovered that everything she did was merely a facade to gain their trust and manipulate them, raising their hopes only to shatter them. They had sworn never to trust again after that betrayal. As long as they were trapped in the book, they would always have a master, and their relationships would remain purely transactional.

Tomas had learned the hard way not to put faith in anyone. So your words held little weight for him. Each of them represented a month, and when they returned to the book three months later, you would be out of their lives. It seemed foolish to invest in a bond for something that would soon disappear.

‘’Tomas? Are you okay? You’ve become quiet,” you asked, noticing his distant expression.

Hearing your voice, Tomas snapped out of his thoughts and looked at you. “I have a lot on my mind. My thoughts are too loud,” he confessed with a tight smile.

“I have a solution that might help. Since neither of us has had any sleep,” you suggested, rising from your seat and making your way to the kitchen, which was adjacent to the living room. Tomas felt a twinge of curiosity as he watched you move. ‘’I hope you like chocolate.’’

“What are you going to do?”

“Hot chocolate. Sweet things are always good for stress. I think we both need some relaxation and serotonin,” you explained, retrieving two mugs from the kitchen cabinet and placing them on the counter. As you continued to prepare the hot chocolate, you asked, “Do you want to watch a movie?”

Tomas repeated the question as if to confirm that he had heard you correctly. “A movie?”

“Yes,” you affirmed cheerfully, without glancing at him, as you arranged the ingredients on the counter. “I like to watch something on Netflix when I can’t sleep. It helps distract my mind.”

“Netflix?” Tomas queried, unfamiliar with the term. As you briefly explained what Netflix was, Tomas observed you moving around the kitchen with a sweet smile, pouring steaming hot chocolate into the mugs and adorning them with white toppings resembling candy. He was familiar with the concept of movies, but his upbringing with the Lin Kuei left little room for leisure activities, such as watching television or electronic devices. Thus, while he understood the concept of movies, he had never encountered anything related to them until now.

“We can watch something that won’t require too much thought,” you suggested as you placed the mugs on the coffee table in front of them. Retrieving your laptop from a nearby spot, you positioned it on your lap and adjusted the screen so that Tomas could see. “Here, you can browse the movies from here.”

Tomas curiously scanned through the films from various categories displayed on the screen. There were so many options that he found it difficult to decide which one to choose, unsure of what would be the right choice.

“How about action?” you proposed, attempting to assist him. Your understanding expression conveyed that you recognized his struggle to make a choice. “We could watch Johnny Cage’s movies. The Ninja Mime movie series is legendary! What do you think? If you don’t like it, we can explore other options, of course.”

When Tomas agreed, your smile grew, and you placed the laptop in the center of the coffee table for both of you to see. As you leaned down to switch off the nearby lamp, he impulsively reached out and grabbed your wrist, causing a small, sweet electric sensation to pass between them. You both shared a momentary pause, as if sensing something peculiar, and Tomas noticed the sound of your interrupted breathing. What the hell was that? Tomas had never felt anything like this before.

“Tomas? Is something wrong?” you asked, your concern evident in your voice.

Tomas tried to ignore the tender feeling as he quickly released your wrist, as if it had burned him. Despite facing numerous sorcerers and warriors without fear, you, with your delicate demeanor, seemed more fragile to him, easily susceptible to harm even without the protection of the book.

“Could the light stay on?” he requested hoarsely, instantly noticing the understanding in your eyes, realizing the underlying reason for his question.

“Of course. Is it alright if we share the seat until the movie ends? There’s no other way for me to see the screen.”

Tomas found it strange that you asked, considering it was your home. You didn’t need his permission to use your own belongings.

“This is already your couch.” Tomas replied, showing his confusion.

“You’re also my guest. I want you to feel comfortable, not like you’re on edge,” you explained. Surprised by your response, Tomas nodded in agreement instead of verbally responding. “Great! Then I’ll start the movie. Come on, start drinking the hot chocolate before it gets cold. Your marshmallows are about to melt.”

Following your instructions, Tomas picked up a yellowish-white ceramic mug with daisy and bee patterns and took a sip of the steaming, incredibly fragrant drink. The sweet liquid danced on his taste buds, flooding his mouth with an unparalleled delight. It had been an eternity since he had savored something so delicious and sweet, a rare treat that he hadn’t experienced in years. Closing his eyes in bliss, he relished every moment of it.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Tomas replied honestly.

“Really?” Your face lit up with a huge, almost radiant smile, and Tomas once again felt that sweet ache in his chest, far from painful. “I’m glad to hear that! If you want more, don’t hesitate to tell me. I still have plenty of chocolates in the cupboard.”

After your words, when the movie started, Tomas watched you eagerly settle on the end of the seat and sip your hot chocolate out of the corner of his eye. Despite the seat not being too large, there was a noticeable distance between you; someone thinner could have squeezed in between with a little effort. Although Tomas still couldn’t quite decipher your intentions, he turned his attention to the film after stealing a few glances at you, and slowly felt his troubled thoughts quiet down, his overly active senses beginning to relax.

Settling more comfortably on the couch, he took another sip of the hot chocolate you had made. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something like this for him. Usually, the situation would be the opposite—he would serve someone, fulfilling their wishes and desires. Now, it felt strange and unfamiliar to him to drink the beverage you had offered without expecting anything in return, as if you would later chastise him for such naivety. However, that never happened. Instead, you were completely engrossed in the film, occasionally giggling at the jokes inaudibly. Your smile, perhaps even sweeter than the hot chocolate he was drinking, had a warmth that made one want to hear your voice again.

Despite being occasionally distracted by your voice, Tomas found himself unexpectedly enjoying the movie. The action scenes were realistic, the jokes humorous, and the flow of the film simple yet intriguing. During one of the fight scenes, Tomas mumbled, “He fights well.”

“Isn’t he? He’s also a master of martial arts. All of these scenes were shot without the use of stunts. That’s why I have a lot of respect for the work he does. He’s one of the few actors I’d like to meet.” you remarked as you popped a half-melted marshmallow into your mouth, causing Tomas to watch your soft lips open and close on your fingers. He felt a warmth again, but this time it was burning and dangerous rather than sweet. He shifted in his seat as if trying to shake off the feeling.

“Do you want to watch the second one too?” you asked after finishing chewing. Tomas responded in a muffled voice. “I can’t deny that I’m interested.”

“Wonderful! I’ll refresh our drinks then. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

Tomas rose once more, feeling uneasy about being served by you again, as you asked nothing of him. As he approached, you were just about to open the milk lid when you looked up, meeting his gaze with inquisitive eyes.

“Did you want something?”

“Tell me what I should do, please,” Tomas said through clenched teeth. How long would you leave him in this state of uncertainty, without giving him any orders? This unfamiliarity, persisting for days, was making him nervous. It was vastly different from the structured system he was accustomed to.

“I am not your master, Tomas,” you responded calmly, looking into his eyes, your voice gentle yet firm. “You are your own person. I will not give you orders, neither now nor later.”

“This is wrong,” Tomas said akin to a snarl, his voice sounding foreign even to himself. Even before an assassin, he was a hunter, and now, he felt more trapped than ever as he still couldn’t grapple with your rules. Do you even have rules? “Something is always expected.”

“This situation doesn’t apply here. I can see that you don’t trust and believe in me, and I don’t blame you for that,” you said, your face filled with a sadness Tomas couldn’t comprehend, your gaze softening even further. “Tomas, please try to believe that I’m sincere in what I’m saying. I do not demand anything from you, and I will not. You are free to act as you want, make your own decisions and choices.”

“Why?” Tomas questioned.

Why were you being so kind?

“Because it’s the right and humane thing to do,” you said simply, without hesitation. Then, you turned your attention to the task at hand. “Now, how many marshmallows do you want? I think I can put at least six on top.”

Did you realize the power you held in your hands? A word from you could compel action. But it seemed like you didn’t even care about this power; instead, you focused on trivial details about the second movie you were going to watch.

Once you had assembled a small mountain of marshmallows on the mug and handed it to him, Tomas accepted it in silence and settled back into the seat with you to resume the movie. He felt oddly content in a way. Though part of him still awaited the unveiling of the mask he thought you wore, he found some solace in the simplicity and normalcy of the current situation. Even though he had forgotten what it felt like, experiencing it again now stirred a mix of emotions within him, difficult to define.

While watching the movie, it was your harmless chats that occasionally provided small pieces of information about the actor or the movie, though it usually remained one-sided. Tomas lost track of how many movies you watched that night, ceasing to count after the second film. As soft yellow lights appeared and the sky began to brighten, he realized that an entire night had passed watching movies. Stretching his muscles, which had stiffened from remaining in the same position for so long, he turned his neck from right to left. When he glanced back at you, he saw that you were quietly curled up in your corner, fast asleep.

You had your arms crossed over the armrest of the chair, using them as a makeshift pillow for your head. Your mouth was slightly ajar, and the gentle rise and fall of your chest indicated deep sleep. Bathed in the morning sunlight, a peaceful expression graced your face.Tomas felt relieved watching you, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, akin to lying on a calm sea.

On one hand, he was surprised that you felt comfortable enough to sleep next to him. You likely couldn’t resist the fatigue any longer and succumbed to it. Tomas couldn’t help but notice how vulnerable you looked, despite not wanting to admit it. You appeared delicate enough to be easily hurt.

Careful not to disturb you, Tomas pulled a blanket up to your shoulders, ensuring you were completely covered. As he did so, Bi-Han appeared at the entrance of the living room, his expression as cold and discontented as ever.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Bi-Han demanded.

“You’ll wake her up,” Said Tomas, in a voice that sounded like a whisper, slightly scolding. Carefully getting up from where he was sitting, he made his way to his brother’s side, his shoulders tense and his posture upright. He changed the subject directly, not allowing Bi-Han to scold him further. “How is Kuai Liang?”

“It’s bad, but he’ll pull through. He’s unconscious right now; I don’t think he’ll wake up for a while.”

“It’s the first time I’ve seen him this bad.”

“We stayed in the book for too long this time,” Bi-Han growled hoarsely, his voice tinged with wildness. Clenching his fists at his sides, his eyebrows furrowed deeply, and his gaze darkened. Tomas could feel the cold emanating from him, chilling his skin like a winter wind. “This cramped place is suffocating me. I’m going out to explore. Take care of Kuai Liang.”

As Bi-Han stormed out of the house without waiting for a reply, Tomas sighed and headed for the room where Kuai Liang was staying, ignoring his weary eyes due to insomnia. Opening the door slightly, he peered inside and saw his brother lying motionless on the bed. Stepping into the room and closing the door quitely behind him, Tomas prepared to tend to his brother.

Although he felt a twinge of guilt for intruding into your private space by entering your bedroom, Tomas didn’t dwell on it much, knowing that you had opened this place up for their use like any other part of the house. After opening the window to let in some fresh air, Tomas couldn’t resist looking around curiously. Your room, like the rest of the house, was small, with a closet and a standing mirror in one corner, and a bookcase filled to the brim with books and pictures scattered haphazardly on the shelves in another corner.

Approaching the bookcase, Tomas found some books filled with confusing information about computers and programming, which he couldn’t quite comprehend. Was this your interest? After glancing at a few of them, his attention was drawn to the photos. Some were framed, while others were hung around the shelves with wicker ropes. The photos depicted people with wide, friendly smiles, along with various landscapes. In the photos, you appeared pleasant, happy, and cheerful, almost laughing in the eyes.

Tomas frowned slightly as he picked up a frame that caught his attention. He hadn’t seen such an expression on your face since they came out of the book; instead, you seemed agitated, with traces of fear in your eyes. He wished he could see you with that same expression from the photos; laughing seemed to suit you, exuding a pure aura that inspired trust. Maybe you truly were like the person in the photos… maybe—

Shaking his head, Tomas tried to dispel the thoughts and returned the frame to its place. He then sat on the chair pulled to the right side of the bed and looked at Kuai Liang. His brother looked worse than he had ever seen him before—his bronze face even paler than the day before, sweat glistening on his skin, chest heaving with rapid breaths, and a contracted expression indicating distress.

Tomas changed the cloth on Kuai Liang’s forehead and listened to his audible breathing, occasionally wheezing softly. Though he wished he could offer his brother some relief, there was little they could do in such circumstances. Kuai Liang had to fight this battle alone and regain control. Tomas watched him for a long time, his hand resting on his chin as he became lost in thought.

It was the sounds emanating from the kitchen that snapped him out of his reverie. Thinking that Bi-Han might have returned, he left the room and found you sipping coffee while cooking something on the stove. When you noticed his presence, you turned around, raising the mug in your hand with a sincere smile as you greeted him.

“Good morning. Did you get any sleep?”

“Not really,” Tomas admitted.

The smile on your face faltered slightly. “Hmm, so the movies didn’t do the trick. Fortunately, I have more remedies up my sleeve. I bought some herbal teas and aromatherapy candles a while ago. We can give them a try tonight,” you suggested with a cheerful tone, taking another sip of your coffee. Before returning to your cooking, you asked curiously. “How is your brother?”

“He’s sleeping. He’s not well, but he’s a strong and stubborn man. I’m sure he’ll recover soon,” Tomas replied.

“I’m glad to hear that. Bi-Han didn’t want me to help, but I made some porridge for Kuai Liang. I hope he won’t be upset with me. Of course, if you think he will be, we can keep it between us. Eating can be difficult when you’re sick, so I thought some comfort food might help him,” you explained, gesturing to the pot on the stove. “I’ve also prepared something for you. Have a seat. You drink coffee, right?”

Once again surprised by your thoughtfulness, Tomas couldn’t tear his gaze away from you as you served him pancakes smothered with a generous amount of maple syrup, a plate of perfectly crisped bacon and eggs cooked to perfection, and a steaming mug of coffee, its aroma wafting through the air and tantalizing his senses.

“Is Bi-Han awake too? I saved some for him.”

“He went out to explore. I don’t think he’ll be back before noon,” Tomas replied, still eyeing the food before him, unsure of where to start. Despite knowing he could eat without waiting for your command, it was difficult to break the years-long habit of awaiting orders. You must have noticed this detail, as you called out to him in a soft voice.

“You should eat before it gets cold, Tomas. You may not enjoy it as much later,” you said gently.

Tomas, relieved, filled his fork with food and began to eat his breakfast with great pleasure, savoring each piece slowly as it settled warmly in his stomach. As he ate, he noticed you quietly watching him while sipping your coffee from the bench you leaned against.

“I hope I didn’t burn the egg,” you remarked after a while. Tomas shook his head, indicating ‘No’ since his mouth was full. After a sip of coffee, he managed to give a straight answer.

“Everything is quite delicious, maste—thank you.” he said, correcting himself at the last moment. A warm smile settled on your face, exposing your teeth, reminiscent of the photos he had seen. Despite your simple appearance in a loosely tied robe and a nightgown, you radiated natural beauty and warmth, filling Tomas with a sense of comfort he hadn’t dared to believe.

“I’m glad to hear that,” you chirped like a bird. “Because I almost burned it while I was taking care of the porridge. I kept breakfast simple since I wasn’t sure what you liked.’’ While taking another sip of coffee, you sat down a little further away, collapsing into one of the chairs placed around the kitchen island. “There is a local library very close to here. I have to stop by there for half an hour. There are some books I want to look at. Do you want to come with me? I think coming out after being in the book will make you feel better.”

Tomas’ body immediately contracted with tension, almost instinctively. He was curious about how much the outside world had changed, but on the one hand, he was not ready to encounter innovations, re-enter among people, noise, and much more. His senses were still at a hyper level, and that fidgety feeling swirling inside him had not calmed down yet.

“Perhaps some other time. Besides, I don’t want to leave Kuai Liang alone like this,” Tomas replied.

“Oh, you’re right. It was a rude question on my part,” you admitted, taking another sip of your coffee before looking at Tomas with curious yet deceptive eyes. Tomas met your gaze and asked after swallowing the food in his mouth, “You want to ask something, am I right?”

“There’s just one thing I’m curious about. But I don’t think it’s right to ask.”

One edge of Tomas’s lip curled upwards; he was starting to like the way you were approaching more and more. You were treating him like a human being rather than an object, and he’d forgotten how that made him feel.

‘’You can ask, it’s okay,’’ he encouraged.

‘’Your hair… Is this your original color?’’

An unexpected chuckle spilled from Tomas’ lips. It seemed funny and innocent enough to make his heart ache that you chose this when there were tons of questions you could ask.

‘‘No, it’s that color because of the smoke magic. Its previous color was brown.’’

‘’Smoke magic? Do you have the power like the others?’’

“Yes.’’

You took a breath with excitement; Tomas could have sworn your eyes were shining.

‘‘Will you show it to me?’’

Tomas let go of the mug he was holding with another smirk that he couldn’t stop, and thanks to the thin, gray cloud of smoke rising from his fingers, he made the mug float in the air. While your eyes opened wide, you took a sharp breath and stared at the floating mug in amazement, and Tomas took great pleasure in watching your reaction.

‘’This is incredible! What else can you do?’’

‘’I can be invisible.’’

‘’No way!’’ You said it in an incredulous voice. Tomas raised an eyebrow, gave you a sarcastic look, and then made his body invisible, watching you keep your mouth open with amazement. Your reaction was so sweet that Tomas laughed out loud this time, and when he made his body visible again, you looked at him with big eyes for a few seconds as if he had grown out a second head.

‘‘That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. You’re incredible!’’ Against your obvious compliment, Tomas’s heart misfired once again, and he felt his cheeks getting hot. Not knowing what to say, as you kept talking excitedly, he squeezed a big mouthful morsel in his mouth before saying something ridiculous. ‘‘It must be great to have such a talent. You can even go to North Korea without anyone hearing a sound.’’

Tomas barely swallowed the morsel in his mouth and looked at you with a manner that showed he didn’t understand why you could want such a thing.

‘‘Why would you want to go there?’’

‘‘Out of curiosity, of course.’’ After giving him a little look with your flushed cheeks, you cleared your throat with an artificial cough. ‘’There’s something else I’m curious about.’’

‘’Are you going to ask why I don’t resemble my brothers in appearance?’’

‘’No, actually, I was going to ask why Kuai Liang said ‘Earthrealm’ that night. The other one is a personal question; it wouldn’t be right for me to ask you to explain.’’

Even so, when you were talking to him like that, Tomas felt the need to explain to you. He decided to sit back in his chair and calmly tell you everything from the beginning, so that he could make you understand the world you’ve fallen into a little better and make sense of it, maybe so that you could also start feeling safer around them. After all, you were going to be together for three months, and no one knew better than him how exhausting it was to be constantly on edge, both physically and mentally.

‘‘I am not their brother by blood; I am adopted,’’ Tomas said simply. ‘’Before I became a part of Lin Kuei, I had my mother and twin sister; we were hunters. We made our living by selling the meat and fur of the animals we hunted, until one day we hunted in the wrong territory. There was an accident.’’ As Tomas slowly began to tell you about his life, he was surprised at how easily the words fell from his lips. Normally, he was a closed box to someone he didn’t know; he wouldn’t open his past easily, but something in you was preventing him from doing so.

‘‘I am so sorry for your loss.’’ It was impossible not to hear the sadness and sincerity in your voice; your gaze had an expression that showed that you were really sorry for his loss. One hand was hesitantly raised, then Tomas did not pull or push his hand away when you placed your hand on his hand, quite delicately, indicating that he could easily get out of your grip if he wanted to. Your touch defined you; it was warm and reassuring, and it also made him realize how much he really needed it.

‘‘Thank you,’’ said Tomas, involuntarily. With his thumb, he gently stroked the top of your hand as a token of his gratitude. When he started to retell where he left off, you were listening to him with great attention. You didn’t interrupt for once; your facial expression was lit up with a warm expression, sometimes sad, sometimes showing that you were proud of his achievements. After briefly mentioning his past, when he came to the question you asked, he actually mentioned that there is more than one world, the details of Lin Kuei’s purpose, creature from other worlds, and gods. While listening to what you were saying with great interest, Tomas was starting to enjoy watching your expression more and more.

"It turns out that I've been sleeping under a rock all this time.’’ You said, gasping in amazement. ‘’So you're superheroes, are you?’’

Tomas chuckled at your comparison.

‘’It was an overly generous comparison. It would be more accurate to say protector than superhero; we served under the orders of Lord Liu Kang to protect Earthrealm from external dangers.’’

“Lord Liu Kang… He was the one who was the Fire God, wasn’t he?’’

‘‘Yes, that’s him.’’

‘’I can’t believe it, God, huh?” You were like a little girl sitting on the edge of a chair, warmed up with excitement, cheeks flushed as if you held a huge candy in your hand. ‘‘No wonder Bi-Han got mad at me when I accidentally branded you as blood lust murderers. After what you said, my own life suddenly seemed very… simple.’’

Tomas reached for his now cold coffee, hiding his laughter. ‘’I’d like to hear it.’’ He said, trusting in the small, fragile bond established between you through the conversation.

‘’Well, what I’m going to tell you may not sound as cool as yours. I graduated from the software engineering department last year, I was working as a programmer at a game company until a few days ago, but I lost the job.’’

‘‘I’m sorry to hear that.’’ Tomas said in a genuine voice. You shrugged your shoulders as if it were all right, but your face had fallen a little, revealing what was going through your mind.

‘‘Don’t worry, I wasn’t happy working there anyway, it was more about making money. Actually, my dream is to one day secure a partnership with one of the big companies by releasing my own game, but when you face the real world, you realize it’s not that simple. No one wants to partner with a novice; someone without a background. Plus, I haven’t found any inspiration for my so-called game yet anyway.’’

Leaning one hand on your chin, your face fell with a mix of unhappiness and a hint of pessimism. Tomas felt a strong need to console you and put a smile back on your face.

‘‘It doesn’t sound impossible.’’ He said with a smile. ‘’Besides, it’s their loss that they’ve lost a talented woman like you.’’

Watching your cheeks flush with his compliment filled Tomas with pride and an irresistible desire for more. As you shyly murmured a small ‘’Thank you’’, Tomas heard the front door open. While his body reflexively tensed, his muscles were ready and alert until he saw who was coming.

When Bi-Han’s imposing body appeared at the entrance, you stood up, moving before him.

‘’Bi-Han! Welcome, we were having breakfast. Are you hungry? I’ve saved something for you too.’’

‘’I’m none of your concern.’’ Bi-Han’s words cut yours short, and within seconds, the smile vanished from your face, shattering the warmth Tomas had worked to foster, and you retreated into your former guarded and distant demeanor. ‘’I remember I told you to take care of Kuai Liang.’’

‘‘His condition hasn’t changed since you left, brother.’’ Tomas responded in kind, his words adding to the escalating tension between them. Sensing the growing unease, you delicately cleared your throat, subtly redirecting both their attention.

‘’I’d better go to the library, as always you can use the things in the house as you like. Tomas, if you want to watch something on Netflix, please don’t hesitate to use it.’’ With your head bowed, you left the room after finishing your words quietly, leaving Tomas and Bi-Han alone.

Tomas ended up near Bi-Han, taking a hard breath. ‘’Why are you acting like this? She’s done nothing but help us so far.’’

‘’And did you believe it?’’ Bi-Han’s voice was thick and authoritative, sounding incredibly deep. “You’re still very naive, Tomas.’’

‘’If you can’t choose your words carefully, can’t you at least pay a little more attention to your intonation? You’re scaring her.’’

‘’And why should I care? As long as the book exists, there will always be a master, and that woman is no different from the others. You have to understand, Tomas, it would just be foolish to trust anyone but each other, especially when you have such tremendous power in your hands. Don’t get your hopes up.’’

Tomas wanted to oppose him, but unfortunately, although Bi-Han spoke with his usual brutality, he was right on one point; as long as the master-slave relationship existed, it carried a power that could easily deconstruct the delicate trust established despite everything. An order that would come out of one’s lips was enough to take away their consent.

After Tomas stayed silent, Bi-Han approached him, his intense gaze lingering for a moment before shifting to the food simmering on the stove.

‘’What is this?’’ Opening the lid curiously, he looked at what was inside. ‘’Did you do it?’’

‘’No, she prepared the porridge so that Kuai Liang could eat comfortably.’’

With his answer, one of the muscles in Bi-Han’s jaw twitched.

‘’I told her to not interfere.’’

‘’She may not be the person we thought, Bi-Han.’’ Said Tomas, there was an opposition in his voice that he didn’t understand where it was coming from. ‘’Tell me, which master has prepared breakfast or something similar for us before?’’

‘’Stop calling them masters!’’ Although Bi-Han turned to him angrily with furious eyes and stood in front of him as if he were a mountain of intimidation, Tomas did not allow him to intimidate him. He wanted him to hear what he was thinking.

‘’I’m not saying we should trust her, but you know as well as I do that she hasn’t done anything to deserve your cruel approach so far. She wants us to be comfortable in his house, she even gave Kuai Liang her bedroom, just to help him in the healing process. She tried to set us free the very first moment we came out of the book-‘’

‘’This is not the first time we have encountered this situation.’’ Bi-Han interjected once again. “At some point, she’ll be compelled to give us orders. I wonder if you’ll still defend her then.”

***

It’s been a few hours since you returned from the library. Throughout your time there, you remained engrossed in the books you brought back, occasionally scribbling something in your notebook and muttering to yourself. Finally, Tomas approached, more curious about your activities than the movie he was watching. When you lifted your head from among the books at his approach, you asked, ‘’The movie didn’t catch your attention?’’

‘’Frankly, I was more interested in what you were doing. You’ve been sitting there for hours, doesn’t your neck hurt?’’

As you tested his words by moving your neck, a hint of pain crossed your face, accompanied by a soft whimper. ‘’Ouch, you were right. My neck is terribly stiff.’’

Offering to help, Tomas raised his hands in the air, gesturing to massage your neck. ‘’If you want?’’

‘’If it’s all right with you, please,’’ you responded, your voice a blend of shyness and gratitude. As Tomas took his place behind you and began massaging your shoulders and neck, he felt a strange electric current once again. Your skin felt soft and tender between his calloused fingers, and he couldn’t help but notice the clean and beautiful scent emanating from you, enveloping him in a sweet warmth. Slowly, your stiffened body began to unravel and relax under his touch. Curious about your reading material, Tomas inquired, ‘‘May I ask what you are reading?’

‘‘I’m doing research. These books contain a ton of information about witchcraft, spells, and curses. I thought maybe there might be some useful information in it for your situation.’’

‘’Have you been looking at these for hours?’’ Tomas asked incredulously.

With a simple ‘’Yes,’’ you innocently confirmed. As Tomas watched you turn another page, he felt a familiar ache in his heart. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was for understanding and kindness. Every movement, every word, every soft look and smile you shared seemed to weave into Tomas’ soul, confirming his growing certainty that you were unlike anyone he had ever met before.

‘’You must be tired, thank you, Tomas, that’s enough,’’ When you spoke from the book without raising your head, Tomas reluctantly withdrew his hands, even though he didn’t want to. Touching you like this felt nice; it was a rare sensation to interact with another body of his own accord, free from orders. Moreover, it was confined to a simple touch without fulfilling desires, a sensation he had almost forgotten. It also made him feel powerful, as it was an action he took by his own decision, highlighting the profound impact of a simple gesture on him.

“May I accompany you?” Tomas asked.

“Of course, you don’t even need to ask. You can look at whatever you want, and if you want to have a drink, you know where they are,” you replied, smiling at him. Tomas opted to brew herbal tea for the both of them. He carefully poured the freshly boiled water into two mugs before selecting green tea bags to steep in each one. As he settled next to you, he glanced at what you had written.

“Have you found anything yet?”

“To be honest, not really,” you admitted, reaching for the mug he offered. With a sigh, you glanced wearily over the open books. “Salt baths, incense, and natural stones have been mentioned, but these seem more for balancing energy. I haven’t come across anything about how to deal with black magic yet.”

“Don’t push yourself for our sake.”

“What? What do you mean?” You looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, a slight hint of frustration in your expression, urging him to explain.

“The demon who cursed us, Quan Chi, is a master of black magic and is cruel as well. You’re not the first person to promise to help us; I’ve seen this scenario before. I don’t think the solution is found in these books, so you shouldn’t burden yourself too much searching for answers you may not find. Our past attempts to break the curse only led to more suffering, it only led to disappointment and despair.”

Your eyebrows furrowed further in response, and though your expression darkened, your eyes betrayed a hurt that softened your features.

“I can understand why you’re hesitant to trust given your past experiences, and it infuriates me to think that others have exploited you in this way.’’ you asserted, your tone tinged with emotion. ‘’While the solution may not be found in these books, we won’t know unless we try, Tomas. I refuse to simply stand by and watch as time slips away and you’re forced back into that book. Our paths have crossed for some reason, and I will help you as much as my means allow. I understand that trusting again is daunting, even frightening, but I’m asking you to give it a chance.”

‘Only a fool would hope,’ Bi-Han’s words from years ago echoed in Tomas’s mind. It was easier to believe that you were playing some kind of game than to trust. But, on the other hand, it was undeniable that there was a hint of truth in your words. If you had a different purpose, you wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble or greeted Bi-Han’s rude words with silence. Even though you knew the power you had over them, you were always careful about the words you used, afraid to abuse it and put them in a difficult situation. Tomas didn’t want to make the same mistake again. He had been in that book for ten years and had seen and experienced a lot. He could navigate the familiar order, knowing the rules and what to expect. But this situation was different.

Maybe after a few days, you would change your mind and want to take advantage of this opportunity that fell into your lap. You might be overwhelmed while searching for a solution, realizing it wasn’t a problem you had to solve, or you might grow tired of them invading your home. The possibilities were endless. Despite this, Tomas still didn’t know what would be left of himself if he chose to trust again, only for it to end badly.

“Tomas?” Your soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he met your worried gaze. “Are you all right? If what I said made you feel uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

Your words, whispered gently, stirred the dilemma Tomas found himself in. It was too early for him to make a decision, as he didn’t even know you properly. Yet, there was a part of him that wanted to believe in you. Despite all the challenges he had faced, you were the first master he wanted to give a chance to after all these years. But he avoided saying it, not wanting to give you the power to manipulate him. As much as he wanted to give you a chance, the part of him that longed to escape from this situation and the complex emotions you evoked in him was more dominant.

“I’m fine, it’s okay,” Tomas replied, brushing off your concern. “I want to take a look at this book.”

As Tomas changed the subject and reached for one of the books in front of him, you eyed him one more time then resumed your reading quietly, allowing him the space to process his thoughts.

A serene silence enveloped the room, punctuated only by the rain outside tapping against the window, the gentle rustling of paper, and the occasional exchange of words between you. Tomas found himself once again enveloped in the same sense of peace he had felt while watching the movie with you last night. It was a rare feeling, one that he hadn’t experienced since being sealed within the book—time spent according to his own will, without orders or prohibitions.

As you sat back after having a snack and took a deep breath, Tomas’s attention was drawn to you like a magnet. Although he had been pretending to focus on the books in front of him, he found himself increasingly intrigued by observing you. Your facial expressions were as transparent as the pages of the books, and Tomas couldn’t help but watch you intently, captivated by your every movement and expression.

“It’s getting late,” you remarked with a tired smile, stifling a yawn with the back of your hand. “Are you feeling sleepy yet?”

“Not really,” Tomas replied honestly, though the idea of closing his eyes lingered in the corner of his mind. Despite having spent close to two years inside the book and therefore doing nothing, he couldn’t shake off the effects of insomnia. Trained to be a perfect assassin, he was accustomed to enduring extreme challenges beyond those faced by ordinary human. However, beneath the facade of strength and resilience, he was still human and had basic needs like everyone else. This included the need for sleep, a fundamental requirement that even his demanding training couldn’t negate.

“We could try lighting these candles, what do you think?” you suggested gently. “I also have another idea that might help, but we need to move to the couch for it.”

“I’m fine here, thank you,” Tomas replied, his voice betraying a hint of tension. You glanced at him, as if trying to discern what was bothering him, and placed a hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. Tomas felt his resistance waver at the contact, the part of him that craved connection stirring to life once again.

“Let’s give it a try, and if it doesn’t work, I promise not to insist.” you said softly.

Tomas wanted to refuse your offer, but he couldn’t resist your comforting smile and reassuring words any longer. “Alright,” With a sigh, he rose from his chair and settled into a corner of the couch, while you searched for candles in the room. As you lit a candle and placed it on the coffee table, dimming the other lights, Tomas’s body tensed instinctively.

“The smell will spread soon—Tomas?” Though he felt your weight settle into the seat beside him, Tomas couldn’t bring himself to turn and look at you. His eyes scanned every dimly lit corner of the room, searching for the perfect escape route. His muscles were tense, rendering him immobile like a statue, and his breath seemed to freeze in his lungs, causing his chest to barely rise and fall. His hunter instincts stirred to life, hazy with the need to survive, to prevent shadows from drawing near him as if they harbored fatal threats. Memories of his days as a hunter flickered in his mind, images of tracking prey through dense forests and navigating treacherous terrain. It was a life defined by instinct and survival, skills honed through years of relentless pursuit. Even now, those instincts remained sharp, guiding his every move in this unfamiliar setting.

“Tomas, what’s wrong?” you asked, concern evident in your voice.

“It’s dark,” Tomas managed to utter, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t like the darkness. It reminds me of the time I spent in the book.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I completely forgot! Just wait here, I’ll take care of it right away.” you responded, moving to get up. But Tomas stopped you abruptly, his fingers closing around your wrist with an iron grip. Though his hold may have been too tight, he felt powerless to loosen it, trapped in the conflict between fight or flight. His muscles tensed like coiled springs, his focus hazy with panic, aggravated and feeling more vulnerable than ever his instincts screaming at him to do something.

“Don’t go,” Tomas said, surprised at how foreign and commanding his own voice sounded. Though he intended it as a request, it came out more like an order. His voice was hoarse and strained, and he wasn’t even sure if you could hear him clearly.

“Okay, okay, I’m not going anywhere,” you assured him calmly, radiating a confidence that suggested you knew exactly what to do. “Tomas, it’s okay. Look at me.”

Your words cut through his panicked mind like a knife, and though his body remained tense, he obeyed, attempting to slow his breathing and regain his focus.

“Tomas,” you said softly, placing a hand on his cheek. He flinched at first, his body tensed more than before, ready to strike. If the circumstances had been different and he had seen you as a threat, he would have already broken your wrist because of this move. But you were no threat; your touch brought an unexpected sense of relief, like a balm to his frayed nerves. “Come on, turn your face to me. It’s okay.”

Though your hand rested gently on his cheek, you exerted no pressure, leaving the choice entirely up to Tomas. Slowly, hesitantly, he turned his head to face you, meeting your warm smile.

“That’s it, you’re safe. They’re just shadows. There’s no one here who can hurt you,” you reassured him, stroking his cheek gently. As he gazed into your soft, comforting eyes, Tomas felt the urge to fight slowly ebb away under your touch and gaze.

Along with your soothing words, Tomas allowed himself to be guided, feeling as though he were a stuffed rag doll after the sudden surge of adrenaline. His head came to rest on your legs, though he couldn’t quite decipher how he had ended up in this position. His muscles felt heavy, as if he were underwater, and his senses dulled, making it difficult to perceive movements and even more so to choose your words. All he could do was inhale the subtle scent of chamomile emanating from the candle and focus on the sensation your fingers created on his skin.

“It’s okay… Tomas… You won’t get hurt again… I’m here, I’ll keep you safe…” you murmured softly. Tomas wanted to laugh at your words, which he could only catch in pieces. How could you shield them? You had no power or ability, yet, your expression of wanting to safeguard these men, twice your size and skilled in taking lives, stirred something within Tomas. Despite the lingering adrenaline, he felt a wave of calmness wash over him, like a gentle ray of light caressing him. He found himself leaning into your touch, seeking comfort in the gentle caress of your fingers against his hair. Truly, you were unlike anyone he had ever met before, and it would be unfair to pretend otherwise.

As you gently stroked his hair, Tomas felt his body grow heavier, his eyelids drooping halfway. Despite a wave of panic at feeling so powerless and vulnerable, your words reassured him.

“I’m here, and I’ll be here when you wake up. Don’t worry, Tomas. You’re safe. You’re not in the book. You’re here in my house, next to me. Can you feel my touch?”

As your fingers continued to run through his short hair, Tomas succumbed to the weight pressing down on him, feeling as though he were being completely submerged underwater. His body went lax, not even having the power to lift a finger. Every muscle seemed to surrender to the fatigue, and he found himself unable to muster the slightest resistance. With a gasp, his eyes closed, enveloping him in the darkness of his own exhaustion.

***

When the light hit Tomas’s face, he initially frowned and attempted to shield his eyes by turning his head to the side. However, as the light persisted, his eyebrows furrowed even more, and a displeased expression formed on his lips. In response, a sweet giggle reached his ears, prompting him to open his eyes quickly. There, he was met with your image, and for a moment, he simply stared at you like a fool. Your greeting, delivered in a calm and soft voice reminiscent of the morning sun, warmed him from within.

“Good morning,” you said with a kind smile. “Did you sleep well?”

Confusion clouded Tomas’s mind. Sleep? Did he really sleep last night? He remembered his body aching but couldn’t recall falling asleep, his mind retracing the events of the previous night. The last thing he remembered was the delicate sensation of your fingers in his hair. Still resting his head on your lap, Tomas’s cheeks warmed as he managed a small “Yes,” filled with disbelief. Your smile widened at his response.

“I’m glad to hear that,” you replied. With your hand still resting gently among his short silver hair, Tomas marveled at how natural the moment felt. Your presence brought him peace, as if you had always been there just waiting for him to find it, and there was something undeniably addictive about it. It was as though the chaos and uncertainty of his past had been momentarily suspended, replaced by a soothing tranquility he had longed for without even realizing it. In your company, the weight of his past seemed to lift, leaving behind a sense of clarity and hope that he hadn’t felt in years. For the first time in a long while, Tomas allowed himself to simply be, basking in the warmth of your touch and the serenity of the moment.

“You didn’t sleep?” he asked.

“No, I stayed awake because I was worried about you having another attack,” you confessed.

As Tomas’s cheeks flushed with shame, your unwavering concern only deepened the impact you had on him. Your words ignited within him a desire to shield and safeguard you. No one had ever approached him with such genuine kindness before. You were truly a kind-hearted and innocent person, evoking so many forgotten emotions within him. It was a feeling so unfamiliar and rare for him, he found himself instinctively wanting to protect you from any harm in that moment, unable to bear the thought of you suffering in any way. In his life, he had never felt this protective over someone in such a short amount of time. It was a fierce and raw instinct, almost primal in nature. Even he himself couldn’t fully grasp or comprehend this feeling.

“Thank you,” he said, lifting his head from your lap and reaching to touch your cheek. You smiled, leaning into his touch, and replied, “No big deal.” As Tomas gently stroked your soft, dreamy skin, he felt an alien sensation he hadn’t experienced in years. Could it be… happiness? The last time he had felt such pure joy was when he and his sister found a piece of glass they thought was a precious stone, believing it would improve their income. Looking at you now, he was transported back to that moment, reliving the feeling exactly.

His body rested and fit, and in the morning light illuminating the room, you looked more beautiful than ever in his eyes. Your presence felt like a remedy to his damaged body and mind, something he never expected but needed.

As he gently pulled you towards him, his touch so light that you could have easily slipped away, you didn’t resist. Your lips were soft, your breath warm, and as your lips met his with a sweet sigh, Tomas felt the walls he had built to resist crumbling. The sensation of your lips against his sent an electrifying jolt through him, every touch igniting a warmth in his chest that seemed to spread to every corner of his being. Each moment of it felt like an eternity, every brush of your lips against his sending waves of longing coursing through him. The kiss was delicate and soft, each movement cautious yet filled with desire. Tomas feared disrupting the moment, afraid to harm you as he savored the intoxicating sweetness of your scent mingled with the warmth of the morning light against his back.

Perhaps it was a foolish move, one that would invite reproachful glances from his brothers, especially Bi-Han, but it was worth experiencing this feeling. He wanted to trust—this moment, your words, you. It was a basic and burning need. Tomas had never fully believed in the promise that light comes after darkness, but in your presence, you made it seem believable, like there could be more. Your body nestled between his arms felt right, as if you were meant to be there, and he had finally found his way home. In that moment of kissing you, Tomas felt a sense of completeness wash over him.

He had never liked the dark, but with you by his side, it didn’t seem so daunting to face it anymore.

[thenameswinterfics]

VISIONS OF HELHEIM

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader Settings: Season 2, episode 4 Summary: Sihtric has never forgotten his mother, whose presence continues to haunt his dreams. And as the Battle of Dunholm draws to a close, you help Sihtric mourn her. Word Count: 6,1 K Warnings: Fluff, angst, missing moments, mention of past abuse, mention on non-consensual relationship (not described in detail), mention of character death, mention of graphic violence (not described in detail). A/N: I'd like to start by saying that it was supposed to be a short fic, but my imagination literally exploded. I'm terribly nervous about this fic, maybe more nervous than the previous one, I've tried to contain the angst so that reading won't be so overwhelming. I know my summaries are terrible, but I swear I'll learn. I'm not an expert in Norse mithology, nor in Pagan traditions, so I apologise in advance if you'll find some inaccuracies. For Elflaed's description I took inspiration by another amazing writer here on Tumblr, giving my own interpretation in some details as well. I forgot the blog's name, so if any of you should know them, please give me the name and I'll quote it! As always, a special thanks to @sylasthegrim, @legitalicat and @sihtricfedaraaahvicius for calming me down during my writing crises (I know it happened once, but your help has been precious), to @lord-aldhelm for helping me fill in some language gaps and to @foxyanon and @zaldritzosrose for a last minute check and helping me with finding a title (Foxy, I love your brain, and thank you so much for sharing with me your knowledge about Norse and pagan culture).

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

A raging storm crossed the lands of Dunholm in the middle of night, the shining moon hiding behind a dense bank of dark grey clouds. The gentle breeze that caressed the tree canopies turned into a violent wind that bent the tree trunks, devastating nature with its destructive force. Drops of rain fell on the ground, saturating the soil and creating small puddles that increased their volume over time. Flashes of light appeared in the sky, creating a spectacle at once majestic and terrifying. 

The bravest men and warriors who dared to face the storm and believed in the Old Gods would say that it was all Thor's plan: enraged by the despicable actions of Dunholm's Jarl and his men, the god of thunder brandished his Mjolnir in the air and unleashed the most dangerous lightning and the most treacherous of the storm. But even the worst of natural disasters could not move the heart of a cruel man.

Elflaed sat on the cold floor of a crumbling hut, feeling the window doors creak and slam violently as cold air and water entered the house. She held her son in her arms, his tiny body curled up against her in search of warmth and protection, his big, mismatched eyes craving comfort in his mother's. Her arms were wrapped around him protectively, adjusting the thick fur on her shoulder and holding him close as her soothing voice sang a lullaby, hoping to shield him from the sounds of the raging storm.

There had always been a hint of sadness in the young woman's eyes, spreading to the sweet features of her face, a bittersweet feeling growing in her chest every time she looked at the little life she held in her embrace. If only the gods had been merciful to her and not given her a son in the most despicable way. 

When she closed her eyes, she could feel Kjartan's large, rough hands exploring parts of her body he wasn't allowed to touch, forcibly stripping her of her dignity, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she felt her pleas ignored. Anger, fear and resentment grew inside her along with an unwanted life, her womb cultivating the seed of a relationship that should never have existed. Elflaed prayed each night with her eyes to the sky, hoping that some merciful god would rid her of the life she was forced to carry. But no child is guilty of the actions of their father, and the young woman learned that the first time she held the infant in her arms, her maternal instincts took hold of her heart as his soft cries filled the room.

And for the following winters, Elflaed raised her son alone, protecting him from a father who rejected one of the many bastards he had across Dunholm. The love for her son grew along with the hatred for Kjartan, which reached its peak as one day she found a bush of black berries in the forest. She was aware of how poisonous those berries were, and had no intention to waste a precious opportunity.

"You will live, sweet boy," Elflaed cooed as she watched Sihtric drift back to sleep, no longer afraid of the storm outside. Her tone was reassuring, trying to calm herself more than him, as her fingers brushed across his tiny forehead, moving strands of hair away from him. “And I will always be here, watching over you.”

It was in that moment that her gaze moved onto the plate of the nightshade berries on the table. She would have her revenge that night.

And her destiny was sealed.

Never before had the night looked so beautiful and so full of mystery.

That was what you thought as you lay on a large pile of hay outside the saddles, your eyes never leaving the great expanse of black veil that rose above your head, adorned with small silver points of light in which you could see all the signs of Ymir's work as he created the planets and all the stars. Your eyes darted in quick motion as you recognised the constellation of Ulf's Keptr, the Fiskikarlar, Kvennavagn and Karlvagn and the Asar Bardagi, your slender finger pointing at the sky and tracing the imaginary lines that connected those small celestial bodies, as bright as the flames that engulfed your house and took away your home and family years ago. 

You couldn't remember what it was about the stars that fascinated you, or how your mind had gotten so lost in a memory you never thought would surface again. But a sense of peace pervaded your mind, every inch of fear and anxiety in your body fading away as you fixed your gaze on the star, losing yourself in the vastness of the night sky. 

It had become a silent ritual that you would perform each night before going into battle, as if to ask the fallen warriors resting within the sacred walls of Valhalla for their protection to survive another day. But attacking an impregnable fortress like Dunholm was no easy task, you knew that. At least not in the way your brothers Uhtred and Ragnar had described it in their reckless plan to take the fortress and avenge your father's memory. It was your first serious battle, and never more than now did you seek the comfort of the stars. 

Your lips parted as you repeated the stories of the origins of these constellations that you had heard as a naive child from the warriors loyal to your father. It had become a habit for you to let your thoughts out loud in your solitude: the cool night air had always been your silent companion through the years, gently tickling your hair and skin as its way of saying it enjoyed your stories. 

But this time was different. Because you were not alone.

Sihtric lay by your side, one hand on his stomach, the other behind his head. He lifted his eyes to the sky, without ever looking at you, while his ears strained to hear your stories of the celestial world. You could tell he was enjoying the little time you spent together by soft humming escaping from his lips, a soothing sound that warmed your heart. But there was something in his eyes that caught your attention: his gaze was distant, pain and melancholy crossing through its bright, multi-coloured irises, his pupils involuntarily dilated.  

Sihtric had always been a shy and quiet warrior, very reluctant to talk about his past and his birthplace unless asked. You could see his eyes flickering involuntarily at every mention of his father, his head drooping and his jaw clenching as the memory of his past came back to haunt him, the shadow of Dunholm walking beside him and never letting go. 

A gnawing vice tightened in your chest every time you saw Sihtric walking around with a blank stare, taking refuge in his tortured thoughts, and not even your touch could save him, pulling back every time your fingertips brushed against his bare arms. And when you found him asleep in the saddles, or anywhere else far from home, you could hear him calling out to his mother in his nightmares, instinctively embracing her as if to feel the motherly warmth he had lost years ago. Sihtric had never spoken of his mother, nor had you dared to ask, until tonight, under a sky full of stars and a fierce war on the horizon.

“Tell me about your mother,” you broke the silence of the night and shifted your position to lie on your side, looking at Sihtric with curiosity. Your sudden question awoke the Dane from his trance-like state, his eyes widening as he rested his gaze on you.

“Lady?” Sihtric asked back, his voice trembling slightly like the hand that rested on his stomach. 

"You told Lord Uhtred that you were Kjartan's bastard son, whelped on a slave girl. We know everything about that wretched turd," the last word came out in a low hiss, your words as heavy as the resentment you felt for your father's murderer. "But there have been no words for your mother, so I would like to know about her." 

At first you didn't realise how demanding your tone was, but when you regained your composure and saw Sihtric's muscles tense and his breath catch at your request, you bit the inside of your cheek and cursed yourself for being so impulsive. You knew how Sihtric flinched whenever anyone spoke to him in a stern tone, but you were Uhtred and Ragnar's little sister: impulsiveness was in your nature. 

An awkward silence fell over you as you both stared at each other, different emotions mingled in the air creating a heavy atmosphere. Finally, after a few minutes that felt like an eternity, you broke the silence and looked away. 

“Sihtric,” you whispered with guilt in your voice, struggling to find the right words. “My apology, forgive what I said before.” You were about to move when his voice stopped you.

“Elflaed,” Sihtric spoke in a weak voice, and if you listened carefully you could hear the trembling in it. “She was called Elflaed, lady.”

Elflaed. That was the name Sihtric called out every night in his unconscious state, searching for a mother he could no longer hold in his arms. Sadness washed over you as your thoughts returned to your own mother and how you felt your heart torn from your chest the night she died. But you had first Uhtred and Brida, then Ragnar, to help you through your grief, while Sihtric had no one to support him. And the grip on your heart tightened. 

“Was Dunholm her home? Was she a Dane like you?” you asked with a soft voice, and Sihtric shook his head faintly.

“No. She was a Saxon, lady. She came from Hocchale, lady. She was taken in Dunholm as a slave.” the Dane replied, looking down at his trembling hand on his stomach. You could still see his mismatched eyes shining in the pale moonlight, watering as he fought back tears. You held a hand up in the air, wanting to place it on his shoulder and give him all your support, but remembering how your touch was not welcomed by his involuntary shudder, your hand returned to your side.

“Your mother,” you broke the silence for the third time, closing your eyes and squeezing the bridge of your nose as you tried to find the right words. “She… I know I am asking you a delicate question, but… What happened to her?”

And at that moment, Sihtric looked away from the sky to rest his gaze on you, his pupils still dilated and his eyes still watering as he looked around slightly, fearing that some punishment might come if he dared to speak the truth. But when he realised that no harm could come, he calmed down slightly and spoke again. 

"She tried to poison Kjartan, lady," the Dane confessed, mustering the courage to change his position and lie on his side, telling you the truth as he looked into your eyes. "With the black berries. The nightshades, lady," he swallowed a lump that formed in his throat before continuing, his voice breaking with emotion, "I do not know what happened that night, lady. All I remember is that she left me and..." 

A sob escaped his lips and the way his body was shaking made you realise he could collapse in front of you at any moment. Without thinking, you raised your hand and placed it gently on his cheeks: to your surprise, he didn't flinch, but looked at you intently, leaning into your touch.

“Sihtric,” you opened your mouth, but the Dane was quick to interrupt you.

“I loved her, lady. With my whole heart, I swear it,” he said with a pleading voice, clutching the pendant of Mjolnir in his trembling hand, in the same way he did the day he swore his oath to Uhtred.

“And I believe you, Sihtric, you do not need to swear to me,” you replied softly, closing the distance between you and resting your forehead on his. Both your hands rested on his cheeks, your thumbs moving in a circular motion to calm him. You felt a soft breath leave his lips and his breathing slowly stabilised. He found a temporary peace in your warmth and you would be his steady rock, shielding him from his past. 

“I promise you, under this sky painted of stars, that your mother will be avenged tomorrow. Kjartan will draw his last breath in battle and his death will be far from honourable,” you confirmed in a soft yet firm tone, clutching your own Mjolnir pendant in your hands. “Do you trust my words?” 

Sihtric was silent for a moment, your words and actions clearly taking him by surprise. But when he opened his mouth to reply, you saw his hand reach for yours, his frightened eyes soften, a pink hue colouring his cheeks. His words came out in a feeble whisper, but you were close enough to hear them. 

“I trust them, lady. With my life and soul.”

And then, in the middle of the night, the surreal silence was broken by two humming voices saying a prayer for survival in battle.

Tension hung in the air as several warriors gathered to form a square in the courtyard, with Ragnar and Kjartan standing in the centre, facing each other in a duel to the death. Heavy blows of swords and axes against wooden shields came from the human ring, low growls and cheers escaping from their lips as the duel became more bloody and brutal. But Sihtric said nothing, holding his helmet tightly in his hands as he waded through the crowd. 

The battle at Dunholm fortress drained Sihtric both physically and mentally: returning to the place where pain and abuse had haunted him since childhood was a challenge he never wanted to face again. Yet he swore an oath of loyalty to Uhtred, and offered up his sword and his life under the watchful eyes of the gods. If Uhtred wished to attack the fortress, Sihtric would obey without question. 

But even his lord could not prepare him for what he was about to witness. A wave of emotion washed over him as he saw Kjartan, the man who had nothing in common with except the blood that ran through his veins, slowly perish under every blow that Ragnar struck, the scene so crude and sickening that even the bravest of warriors could not watch for long. 

Satisfaction first, then horror, disgust and bitterness as he winced at every blow Kjartan received, the ground of Dunholm painted crimson as blood coursed through his body. Sihtric felt numb, a myriad of thoughts running through his mind, remembering his life as a slave in his own house, how his body and mind endured his father's cruelty, how he tried to impress him and earn love and respect, only to be mocked and humiliated in return. He remembered every scar and bruise he had received, and how his body ached with every blow as he lay stunned on the floor after his punishment was over. 

As he exhaled a ragged breath, unrest was painted on his face, his skin turning pale as his mind returned to the night his mother died, her piercing screams echoing in his mind as they had on that stormy night when she was thrown to the dogs on his father's orders. It was a melody that haunted his dreams, begging his mother to forgive him for not being able to save her. A forgiveness that never reached him.

A gentle grip on his hand brought him back to reality, the muffled voices in his ears crystal clear as reality returned in all its crudeness. Sihtric slowly realised that it was over as his eyes rested on his lord, who was holding an enraged Ragnar close to him. A heavy silence filled the fortress as all the warriors realised what had really happened, neither faction daring to continue the fight. 

Sihtric recognized your touch, but he was too stunned to return the squeeze. And you just stood still at his side, watching helplessly as the ghosts of his past returned to haunt him, while he felt the echo of Elflaed’s voice reaching his ears.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you made your way towards Dunholm's dungeon, the faint flame of your torch trembling with your hands. The damp air didn't help your anxiety, and you tried to manoeuvre through the darkness of the place with cautious steps, the metallic smell of blood irritating your nostrils.

You have won the battle, but at what cost? You asked silently over the flames of the small brazier in the great hall, but the soft crackling of the wood didn't give you the answer you were looking for. 

The attack on the fortress had been successful, and Young Ragnar had honoured Ragnar the Fearless’ memory by taking Kjartan's life. But it was a bittersweet victory for you, for the gods wouldn't give you back your father, who was feasting among them in the golden halls of Valhalla. To your surprise, you found out that Thyra was alive, but hatred burned in her heart as she blamed you all for abandoning her to her fate. Uhtred and Ragnar told you that she was safe in Father Beocca's hands, but you knew that nothing could easily mend a broken trust. 

But your mind couldn't stop thinking about Sihtric, and how he was too overwhelmed and confused to return your touch, and how he remained silent throughout the aftermath. He just stood there in the courtyard, looking at his father's lifeless body with an indecipherable expression on his face, before shaking his head and silently returning to his duties. You thought that taking him to Dunholm would have caused him no small amount of pain, and you had several arguments with Uhtred about sparing Sihtric further suffering. But your brother was adamant, and the young Dane was too loyal to disobey him. 

And in the midst of your thoughts, you felt a strong hand squeeze your shoulder, forcing you back into reality and into the deep blue eyes of the Daneslayer, who looked at you with concern. 

“Sihtric has been missing,” he told you with a low voice, and you jolted on the furred chair.

"I thought he was celebrating the victory with Finan and the others," was your blunt reply, feigning disinterest while a storm of emotion exploded inside you. 

“Finan told me he has not seen him for hours,” Uhtred retorted, and deep down in your heart you knew what you had to do. 

And so there you were, searching for Sihtric in the darkest part of the fortress after a long search on the surface. You thought you would find him in the stables, the place where he usually spent most of his time, meticulously tending to the horses: but to your surprise, he wasn't there, nor was he in the servants' quarters. 

A sense of foreboding grew within you, a sense of claustrophobia struck you as you felt the walls of the dungeon closing in around you, the dim light of your torch illuminating the poorly maintained surroundings, the damp, enclosed smell making you dizzy as you saw your shadow playing tricks on you. You were about to lose hope when you heard a ragged breath from a few cells ahead. 

You moved quietly in the direction of the sound until you saw Sihtric lying on the ground, a thick fur protecting him from the cold floor. Your heart ached as you watched him toss and turn on the ground, his lips trembling and his forehead drenched in sweat as nightmares once again took possession of his mind, his mother's name slipping from his mouth in a whisper. You looked at him with a hint of sadness in your eyes, and unlike the other nights, this time you would have woken him. 

You approached him gently, your touch on his shoulder as light as a feather as you shook him lightly. This sudden action caused him to wake up abruptly, jumping to his feet as he didn't recognise you in the darkness. You jumped back as well, about to fall to the ground in a heap from his sudden movements. 

“Sihtric,” you whispered smoothly, raising your hands as you wanted to reassure him no harm would come, “It is me, do not be afraid.”

You continued to speak in your soothing tone as you allowed the fire of the torch to illuminate your features. Sihtric's body stopped shaking as he recognised you, trying to compose himself as he bowed his head slightly in respect, ignoring the way his chest rose and fell frantically.  

“I wondered where you were. I thought you were feasting with the others, or you were resting in one of the fortress’ rooms,” you inquired, your eyes sad as you thought that sleeping in the cells was a habit he had developed during his time as a slave and imagined him resting in his cold, isolated cell.  

“Forgive me, lady,” Sihtric muttered back in a strained voice, looking down at his feet. The Dane warrior secretly thanked the gods for the poor lighting in this place, hiding the redness of his cheeks. “I… I did not know where else to rest.” 

After hearing his answer, you let out a small sigh, saddened by the realisation that he still did not feel safe at home, even after seeing his father's reign of cruelty end before his eyes. 

“Be free to move wherever you want,” you approached him and placed your hand on his shoulder once more, a flash of realisation came over you: you had promised to be his rock under the starry sky, and you would keep it. 

"Kjartan is dead, Sihtric. Your days of fear and suffering are over, you are a free man now," you said with softness in your voice, locking eyes with him as he raised his head, his mismatched eyes silently yearning for your protection. The Dane warrior nodded his head, his lips curling into a small smile. 

"Come, I will take you to a warm place, now," you said as you squeezed his hand and pulled him towards the exit of the dungeon. Sihtric followed you without saying a word, squeezing your hand back as he followed you, leaving a piece of his past behind as he left the cells.

Convincing Sihtric to spend the night with you was a difficult task: the Dane warrior was afraid that Uhtred might turn up and scold him for being alone with his little sister, but you tried to explain that he would not be arriving for some time, too busy discussing the future running of Dunholm with Ragnar. You let out a defeated sigh as you watched him furrow his brow in suspicion, but soon you were glad that he had at least convinced himself to trust your words. 

You led him into your temporary room, one of the largest in Dunholm, beautifully decorated with carved wooden planks on the ceiling and a few rugs covering the wooden floor. Despite its size, the large fireplace in the centre of the room was able to heat the whole room, the crackling of the wood being the only sound allowed in. 

You handled him with the utmost care, looking down his broad arms for any suspected wounds or cuts that might require attention. Desperately chasing away any impure thoughts about his appearance, you were pleased to find that his flesh was untouched and unblemished, save for a few specks of dust scattered about. You almost cursed yourself for not preparing a warm bath for him, and with what little water you had, you tore off a piece of your clothing and used it to clean his skin. Your touch was as soft as silk on his muscles, and Sihtric did his best to hide the redness of his cheeks. 

“Better?” you asked as you looked at Sihtric, your sudden question bringing him out of his thoughts. The Dane hummed back, his eyes softening in your presence. 

“Thank you, lady,” he whispered, leaning desperately on your touch as you continued to clean him.

Afterwards, you both lay down on the large bed, which was much more comfortable than the one you used to sleep on back in Cumbraland. The warmth of the blankets and furs gave you both a sense of peace and comfort, almost making you forget that a fierce battle had been fought that morning. 

You both looked up at the ceiling, imagining it to be the same starry sky as the day before. A pleasant silence filled the room, and the single thought brought a small smile to both of your faces, too drunk with each other's closeness as your hands instinctively reached out to each other, your fingers intertwined as you both used your thumbs to make small circles on the backs of your hands. 

You both enjoyed this idyllic moment until Sihtric cleared his throat and shyly drew your attention to himself as his big, mismatched eyes stared intently at you. You could see his pupils dilate again, and it was then that you realised something was troubling him. 

“Lady,” the Dane spoke quietly, squeezing your hand, “There is one thing I would like to do before we leave Dunholm.” 

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and looked for a moment at how tightly he clasped your hand, as if he were secretly looking to you for comfort and understanding. 

“What is it?” you asked softly, your lips curving into a sympathetic smile as you waited for him to speak up. You were calm, taming your curiosity and impulsiveness. 

"There is a small place, a little far from Dunholm," he continued in a timid voice, looking down at your joined hands, as if he was regaining his courage by looking at them, "We can reach it by following the path of the small spring from the east wall, it is a safe route to take with our horses. It will be a short walk, and when we see a large hawthorn tree in the distance, we will have reached our destination.”

Sihtric paused for a moment and took a long breath before continuing.

"I buried my mother there. At least..." Another long sigh escaped his lips, this time more shaky than the first. "...where I would like to bury her." 

A heavy silence fell over the room, the calm and peaceful atmosphere vanishing in an instant. You stood still, too stunned by his words to speak. And when you found the courage to open your mouth, Sihtric quickly cut you off, clasping both of his hands between yours. 

"I wish to mourn her, my lady. To mourn her properly," Sihtric murmured, his eyes watering as he looked away from you and down at some random spot on the blankets. "I... I know we could slow the return journey, but I will speak to Lord Uhtred and I-I will take my punishment..." 

With an imperceptible movement, you slipped your hand from his grasp and cupped his cheeks, tilting his head and forcing him to look at you. A soft whisper escaped your lips, interrupting his stream of consciousness, his words replaced by a soft sigh, his head unintentionally tilted as his mismatched eyes rested on yours.

"My brother will not punish you for mourning your mother, Sihtric," you told him in a reassuring tone, tilting your head slightly so that your foreheads touched, "because we will go there at dawn tomorrow and you will be free to pray in silence and honour her memory.” 

There was something comforting in your words, a gentle reassurance that was like balm to Sihtric's heart, wrapping itself around your care and love. As your eyes met, you both felt a comforting warmth spread through your chests, an invisible thread drawing you together as you slowly drew closer, your lips brushing gently before locking in a timid kiss that became desperate as Sihtric poured all his love into you, pulling you closer and deepening the contact. 

After a few seconds he pulled away, both breathing heavily, but with their foreheads pressed together, a small smile crossed Sihtric's face. The Dane knew it was wrong to steal a kiss from his lord's sister, but you had become his shining star in a dark sky, and the flame of your love burned brightly in his heart.

And as the moon shone brightly in the sky, you both fell asleep in each other's arms, slipping into a peaceful sleep, feeling the gentle rhythm of each other's breathing and knowing that you would face whatever came next together.

Morning came and Dunholm awoke to a peaceful atmosphere, the days when Kjartan the Cruel ruled the stronghold fading away like grains of sand in the wind. The aftermath of the battle still left its physical scars, the courtyard still painted red, arrows and broken shields still lodged in the ground, the great ram still lying undisturbed at the foot of the gates. Yet nature was reborn after the death of its tyrant, the grass, plants and flowers seemed to grow with the brightest colours, and the melodious chirping of birds echoed in the air.

A few rays of the dawning sun filtered through the window and gently caressed Sihtric's sharp features, and he groaned softly as he slowly awoke, feeling his body well rested as he slept without nightmares for the first time. Rubbing his tired eyes, he turned awkwardly to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. A sense of worry washed over him when he didn't find you by his side, and suddenly he felt as if he had been transported back in time to when he was in Tekil's service, living under the pressure of impressing a father who was barely aware of his presence.

But his worries quickly vanished when he felt the door to the room open and you appeared behind it with a broad smile on your face. Sihtric was unaware that you had awakened before the sun could greet the earth with a new day, and unnoticed you quietly took your horse from the stables and followed the route he had described to you the night before. 

The ride to the hawthorn tree was very quiet, full of unspoken emotions. Years had passed since he had visited his mother's grave, and he had never thought that he would return to bid her a final farewell and leave Dunholm, burying a past he had hoped to forget, but which had made him the warrior he was. 

After a short walk they reached a large hawthorn tree, and to Sihtric's relief it was the same one he had seen as a child, not even the violent storms of the past few days had wiped it out. His eyes darted down to its roots, and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw: the blank stones that had made up the small mound of earth he had imagined burying his mother many years ago had been replaced by larger, white stones, decorated with symbols he recognised as drawn runes, carefully scattered around the perimeter of the grave. 

A sudden realisation came to him as he remembered the way you had greeted him at dawn, your dirty hands suggesting that you had been to the burial spot and tended to his mother's grave before accompanying him. A small bouquet of hawthorn was placed over the patch of earth, and Sihtric recognised it as the flower Elflaed used to pick when she returned to the forest, remembering her sweet smile as she caressed the white petals with her fingers. 

You both knelt in silence at the foot of the grave, clasping your pendants together as you both silently recited a prayer to the goddess Hel, asking her to watch over Elflaed's soul in the halls of Eljudnir in Helheim. 

As the last words were spoken in silence, the weight of the moment fell heavily on Sihtric, and without realising it, he saw small teardrops fall to the ground and looked up at the sky, thinking that a storm was about to break. But his eyes were too blurred to focus on the orange-blue sky, and he slowly realised that the soil was wet with his own tears. Unable to contain his emotions, the Dane buried his face in his hands and let out a liberating cry, his shoulders shaking with sobs. You reached over and wrapped your arms around his large shoulders, pressing your lips to his temple, leaving a small kiss as you held him tightly in your hands.

"Let it all out," you whispered softly, your voice comforting as you gave him gentle strokes on his back, "I am here with you as your mother, watching over you." 

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder as emotions overwhelmed you as well, and you silently let your tears flow as you cried for your own late mother, whose soul rested in Valhalla with your father and the other fallen warriors. 

You returned to the fortress in silence, following the thin stream of water backwards as you chose your route, your horses dragged by the reins. Halfway you halted your march, your pause forcing Sihtric to rest as well.

"Is something wrong, lady?" he asked, furrowing his brow as he saw you approach in silence, one of your fingers trailing over the pendant of his Mjolnir. You both looked into each other's eyes, your cheeks turning red simultaneously as you both filled your nostrils with each other's scent.

“Promise me that, when we have a baby girl, we will name her Elflaed,” you confessed light-heartedly with a shy smile, and the Dane warrior looked down at his feet as his face turned completely red, the redness reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“A-A baby girl?” he muttered, swallowing a mix of air and saliva while his mind was filled with endless thoughts. 

Sihtric fell in love with you the night he failed in his mission to kidnap Uhtred and was taken prisoner, the compassion in your eyes a thing that never left his mind. He secretly wanted to find the courage to confess his feelings for you and take you as his wife, but something prevented him: he was not afraid to face Uhtred, he knew that you were more stubborn than his lord and that your brother would have given you everything, however reluctantly. He was afraid of himself, afraid of failing to please or impress you. Uhtred was the rightful heir to a land he sought to reclaim, and though in exile, Finan was still an Irish prince by blood. Sihtric was only a bastard son, with no land to claim and no royal title to flaunt. 

"I... I am afraid I cannot satisfy you, lady," the Dane gently declined your offer, which was met with a puzzled look from you. He let out a sigh before speaking again, "I-I have nothing to offer you, lady. I have no land to rule, nor enough silver to give you. I am a nobody, lady, and as much as I love you and want to take you as my wife, I fear I could not make you happy."

"I do not need a rich and powerful lord to be happy," you replied, shaking your head as a light chuckle escaped your lips. You placed your hand gently on his cheek, tracing the scar on his cheekbone with your thumb. "There could be many lords in all of England who would be willing to claim my hand, but in my heart I know that the only man I will ever allow to be by my side is you," you continued, still holding his pendant in your other hand.

A pleasant tension filled the air as you both stared at each other, the wind the silent intruder in your union. Sihtric's large hands rested on your hips, your thumb still tracing his scar, a soft hum vibrating in the Dane's throat as he surrendered to your touch. 

"I love you, Sihtric Kjartansson," you said softly, your eyes full of love as you rested your gaze on his alluring bicoloured eyes, "to Valhalla and back.”

"And I love you, lady," Sihtric replied shyly, returning your gaze with the same intensity as yours, "to Valhalla and back."

And the distance between you disappeared.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it!

Taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm

[yan-lorkai]

((Idk why my device wearly doesn't let me add the coma thingy)) For the Halloween event could i request yandere ghost Jade who was once a very rich....duke- yeah totally noble and didn't do illegal things 👀...reader enters this abandoned and destroyed manor with a cat in hands reassuring them due to the storm outside...reader and their cat don't have a home in fact they also como from another world like Yuu the difference is that reader didn't have the luck to end up in a school and they got there with their cat which reader calls their daughter one thing leads to another and reader decides they could stay there after all no one was there just some creaky and weird sounds sometimes but nah must be their cat oh was that a scream? nyeh it probably was the cat or some hallucination for the lack of sleep besides their cat doesn't seem too bothered neither...reader cleans the house thoroughly and creatively fixes some things with their own hands maybe temporary solutions but they will do...they find wild plants and fungi they can eat and make some fires outside to cook them for them and their cat or eat the ones that you can eat raw raw, when they find a shiny or pretty thing they bring it back to the manor and put it somewhere on the house or on the main dorm where once seemed to inhabitate a man, reader find some of his clothes and a picture of him both seemingly wore down and from centuries ago nevertheless they clean the picture and hope them a good rest on heaven and also commenting out loud that they're sorry for invading this place but that it was the only safe place for them and their cat, they later get the dust off the clothes but don't wash them in a sign of respect since idk washing them = disrespecting the memory of their owner, they only get the dust off of them and the closet and put them in the sun for a bit so they don't get worse before returning them to the closet and checking on it once in a while to the misfortune or maybe fortune...? of reader these signs of respect (and airheadness) made a certain ghost very curious and amused... Too long i'm sorry i tend to ramble

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Day twenty three: Ghost!Jade and darling living on his manor

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: Lowkey loved to write this ♡♡♡

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Tagging: @kiraiyugen

The manor was a shadowy silhouette against the stormy sky, its once-grand architecture crumbling under the weight of centuries. Thick vines crawled up the walls, weaving through shattered windows, and the roof had long since lost its battle with time, leaving gaping holes that allowed the rain to pour in freely. The place felt like it had been forgotten by the world, abandoned and left to rot. But tonight, the manor had a visitor.

You stepped through the creaking, heavy doors, holding your cat close to your chest. Her little head poked out from your coat, ears twitching nervously at the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance. “It’s okay, sweetie,” you murmured softly, stroking her fur to calm her. “We’ll be safe in here until the storm passes.”

Your cat, whom you affectionately called your daughter, seemed to relax a little at your touch. You glanced around the dark, eerie foyer, noting the way the dim light filtered through the broken windows, casting long, jagged shadows across the dust-covered floor. The place was eerie, sure, but there was a strange kind of peace in it, like the remnants of a life that had once been.

It seemed to be calling you. Whispering your name, convincing you to enter it.

“Well… it’s not exactly a palace, but it’ll do,” you said, mostly to yourself, though your cat meowed in agreement.

The rain was pouring outside, the wind howling as it whipped through the trees. You shivered, but not just from the cold — there was something about the manor that felt off, like it was watching you, waiting.

You pushed the thought aside. “Better than being out in that storm, huh?”

You wandered further in, your shoes leaving faint prints in the dust as you explored. The place was massive, with winding hallways that seemed to stretch on forever, and rooms filled with decaying furniture that hinted at a past life of luxury. Every so often, a strange creak or groan would echo through the halls, making you jump.

'Must be the wind,' you reassured yourself whenever that happened, though you didn’t sound all that convincing.

At one point, you thought you heard a soft, distant scream, but when your cat didn’t react, you brushed it off as your imagination. “Maybe I’m just tired,” you said with a sigh. “Or hallucinating from the lack of sleep. We've been searching for a place to rest for a long time, havent we dear?”

It didn’t take long for you to decide that you could make this place a temporary home. You had nowhere else to go, and the manor, as eerie as it was, at least offered some shelter and warmth. So, over the next few days, you set to work cleaning it up.

You swept the dust from the floors, wiped down the windows, and even managed to fix some of the broken furniture with makeshift repairs. They were temporary solutions, but they would do for now. Your cat followed you around, sometimes hopping onto counters or curling up in old armchairs, watching as you brought a bit of life back to the place.

As you explored the grounds, you found wild fruits and fungi growing nearby, enough to cook a simple meal. You made small fires outside, cooking what you could, and even tried some of the edible ones raw. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing, and you made sure to share everything with your cat.

“We’re like a couple of foraging nomads,” you joked, scratching her head as she ate beside you.

One day, as you were cleaning one of the rooms that seemed to have once been a study, you found a small, ornate picture frame buried under a pile of dusty books. You carefully picked it up, brushing the dirt away to reveal a faded photograph of a man. His clothes were elegant, the kind you’d imagine a duke or some other noble would wear, and there was a certain grace in his posture. But the photo was worn, almost like it was a memory trying to fade away.

You looked at it for a long moment, feeling an odd sense of connection to the man in the picture, his beautifuleyes staring right back at you, almost as if he could see you now.

“I hope you found peace wherever you are,” you said quietly, placing the frame back on the desk. “And… sorry for invading your home like this. I promise I’ll take care of it.”

After that, you couldn’t help but feel a strange obligation to maintain the place, almost as if you were caring for the memory of the man whose portrait you had found. You even discovered some old clothes in a wardrobe, finely tailored but dusty, and decided to clean them off. You didn’t wash them, though — it felt like that would be crossing a line, disrespecting the memory of their owner. It was such a silly thought, really, but whenever you thought about it, you just simply couldn't.

Instead, you brushed off the dust and laid them out in the sun for a while, hoping to preserve them as best you could. Every now and then, you’d check on the clothes, making sure they were still neatly arranged in the wardrobe, as if their owner would return to wear them again in the near future.

Unbeknownst to you, your actions hadn’t gone unnoticed. The manor had its secrets, and one of them was the spirit of the very man whose belongings you were now caring for. Jade Leech had been many things in life — a duke, a man of wealth and influence, and yes, he had dabbled in some less-than-legal affairs, not that it matters.

But now, he was simply a ghost, bound to the manor that had once been his pride. Bound by a curse or so he'd tell you if you asked him; the truth was only for him to know.

Jade had seen many people come and go over the years, but none had stayed. Most would leave after hearing a whisper in the dark or seeing a shadow move where no shadow should be. But you… you were different. You didn’t run. Instead, you cleaned, you fixed things, and you spoke to him — even if you didn’t realize it. Every time you’d make a quiet comment about the manor or talk to your cat, Jade would listen, an amused smile playing on his lips.

It was your respect for his belongings that intrigued him the most. The way you had carefully cleaned the picture frame, or the gentle way you had treated his clothes, it made him feel… noticed. Remembered. And that was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a very, very long time.

Jade began to watch you more closely, following you as you explored the manor, listening as you talked to your cat. He found your presence soothing, your airhead nature endearing. It was as if, after so many years of silence and solitude, life had returned to the manor — and he wasn’t sure he wanted it to leave.

His mother, his father, his brother... they all have left him.

And misses them.

He didn't want to get attached to someone, and then have you left him too.

One evening, after you had spent the day fixing a broken chair leg and foraging for more food, you were in the main hall, admiring how much you had managed to clean up. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting a warm light across the room, and your cat was curled up on your lap, purring contentedly.

“I think we’ve done a good job, don’t you?” you said, scratching behind your daughter's furry ears. “It almost feels… cozy.”

You didn’t notice the figure standing just a few feet away, a ghostly smile on his face. “Yes,” Jade said, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet clear enough to send a chill down your spine. “It does.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked up, your eyes widening as you saw him. There, standing by the fireplace, was the man from the photograph, dressed in the same elegant clothes you had so carefully dusted off.

His pale face was framed by dark, wavy hair, and his eyes — sharp, intelligent, and heterochromatic — were fixed on you, shining with an otherworldly light. He didn't looked dead at all.

He looked very much alive.

For a moment, you thought you were dreaming; the absence of having another person to talk to catching up to you. But the smile on his lips was so real, so warm, it was hard to believe he was just a figment of your imagination.

“You… you’re…” you stammered, not sure how to finish the sentence.

Jade tilted his head slightly, his smile widening. “I am Jade Leech, the owner of this mansion. But you know that.” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “And I must say, I’ve been quite charmed by your company.”

You blinked, struggling to find your voice. “Y-you’ve been watching me?”

“For a while now, yes,” he admitted, taking a step closer. “You’ve done such a lovely job caring for my manor, and for that, I am grateful. It’s been… entertaining, to say the least. And you're quite skilled singing.”

You swallowed, your mind racing. You should have felt afraid, but there was something about the way he spoke, the way he looked at you, that made it hard to think straight. “I-I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” you said quickly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Nonsense,” Jade interrupted, his tone smooth and reassuring. “If anything, I should be thanking you. You’ve brought life back to this place, and for that, I am in your debt.” He paused, his gaze softening. “But more than that… I find myself rather fond of you.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. “Fond…?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “And I think it’s only fair that I repay your kindness… by making sure you never have to leave this manor again.”

The realization hit you like a wave, and you felt your heart begin to race. “W-what do you mean?”

Jade’s smile widened, and there was a glint of something possessive in his eyes. “You will stay here, with me,” he said softly, his tone as gentle as it was final. “As my guest… and perhaps, something more. After all, you're mine now."

[marlsswrites]

Summer camp AU, part 21!!

July 21st <3

Core - @jegulus-microfic - words: 881

First part Previous part

Arms swinging at their sides, pale skin reflecting pale skin and dark raven hair twinning as it fell from both of their heads in perfect curls. Yet one reached his shoulders and the other busy below his ears. The sounds of the wind whipping through the trees surrounded them, leaving them in an blissful silence as it felt like the wind was hissing and whispering at them.

It was early morning, Regulus had decided that he wanted to be productive and go for a walk, before he knew it his tired feet seemed to mindlessly carry him to where his brother was staying, his shaky hand knocking on the door then followed by a creak, the open door revealing Sirius, who's face bloomed with a grin as soon as he saw Regulus.

So here they are now, going for a walk and talking as brothers should, because they really need to do that more. The love between the two Blacks was almost invisible to the naked eye, but Regulus could see it, so could his brother. They both loved hard and soft, in their own ways yet still so caring.

The only other difference between them now was the younger boys scowl and the older boys wary smile as he was clearly waiting to say something that was sure to draw some sort of negative reaction from Regulus.

"Reggie?" His brother asked hesitantly as they nearly came to a stop outside Regulus' cabin, which was out of sight but still only a few doors down.

"Yes, Sirius?" A response came with a sigh. "Spit it out."

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows. "What?" He asked, his voice raising an octave.

"You clearly want to say something." He snapped, soon after realising he may have started being a bit too harsh, so his offered the best smile that he could muster - it wasn't a very wide or cheerful one, but it was there.

Sirius' face relaxed slightly, but it still held an unsettling tensity to it that urged Regulus to chew on his nails and nervously bite the skin of his glossy lips. See, he never knew what to expect from Sirius when they spoke, normally they avoided the harsh topics but that was a difficult thing to manage judging on their childhood. But there is one thing that Regulus can think happened, the one thing Sirius interrupted. He's been avoiding his brother ever since, praying he'd just forget or leave it alone, but clearly not. He still doesn't quite know what happened himself, how is he expected to explain it to Sirius?

They continued to walk, Sirius releasing what he had to say in one breath before pursing his lips and looking directly into Regulus' guilt filled eyes. "What happened at the movie night?"

"We watched movies." He replied bluntly

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?" Regulus avoided the question, as that was his only current solution, he didn't want to talk about it, not now, not ever. Especially not with Sirius out of all people.

The older flicked him on the arm, groaning and giving him an eyebrow raise to face Regulus' faux innocent face and his wide eyes as he yelped at the feeling of Sirius' nail hitting his arm with a sting. "Regulus!"

He only hummed in response, gaze sticking to the floor as they rounded the corner and made their way to Regulus' and James' shared cabin.

"I love you to the fucking core of my heart." Sirius started, Regulus scrunching his nose up at the affection but forcing himself to look up at his brother. "But you are so stubborn!"

"I'm not!"

"Fine." Sirius huffed. "Do you like him?" 

They walked through the door into the cabin, Sirius still tailing onto him like a dog following it's beloved, fast paced owner, as he kicked his shoes off and instantly sat himself - actually no, launched himself - onto Regulus' once neatly made, uncreased, bed. 

Music echoed from the bathroom, loud Arctic Monkeys songs blasted through the door as he could hear the low raspy humming of James as the water poured from the shower and hit the floor, Regulus taking in every single sound as the sound of his brothers horrific singing came into his ears.

"I'm not answering that." Regulus finally replied. 

"Regulus, do you like him-"

Seconds later, neither boys seemed to have noticed the lack of the sound of water and booming music coming from the bathroom. The door opened to let heaps of hot, sticky, steam out and James walked out.

The towel was tied sinfully low around his pointed waist, his hip bones stuck out and formed a lovely looking v shape that Regulus wanted to trace with his hands and admire it in all of its beauty. His tan skin had gotten darker during the summer, but with the water dripping from his torso it reflected the bright light that hung over Regulus' head. The smattering of hair ran under his towel made Regulus feel dizzy, the smile on his face when he saw Regulus standing there, hands on his hips and jaw lightly slack as he tried to push some words out of his mouth, made Regulus want to crumble to the wet wooden floor at his feet.

"Never mind." A cough came from the side of him as Sirius narrowed his eyes. "That answers my question." He sighed.

Next part

[jeankluv]

A fairy song - Utahime Iori

summary: On one of your hunting days, a melodious voice guides you through the forest until you come across the beautiful presence of a fairy with big hazel eyes and black hair.

paring: Utahime x fem!reader

tags: +18, angst, injuries, Utahime is a fairy, reader is a human, scars, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut, oral sex (f), cuddles, nipple play

notes: How are we feeling with the jjk ending announcement? I’m honestly pretty sad ngl, I loved this series so much.

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist | ao3

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You had gone out hunting, it was a hot day, your clothes stuck to your skin as you walked through the path that led to the forest. Luckily there you would find food to take home and freshness.

As soon as you entered the forest you felt the shadow and the soft breeze that filtered through the trees, you let yourself be carried away by that breeze that almost seemed like a soft song that called you.

Your boots creaked against the floor and your gaze observed every corner of that place, while you were still following the melody that became more and more vivid with each step.

The sound of a river mixed with the melody that you assumed was the river that ran through that forest, it was then when yoi saw her. She was beautiful, almost unreal. Her black hair trailed down her back and across her breasts, subtly covering them. Two wings came out of her back, they were large and reflected the light in an almost blinding way. She hadn't been able to look at her face yet, but you knew it would be just as beautiful as her voice.

You moved your foot, looking for a better position for her, but a branch broke under your weight, causing the young fairy to panic and turn her head to look in your direction.

The fairy hazel eyes opened wildly, stepping down from the rock where she was sitting at and covering herself with her hands and long hair.

You studied her face, she was so beautiful, breathtaking. But you also noticed the scar crossing her face.

It didn't take you too long to connect the dots, her terrified look and her scar on her face could only mean one thing and that was that that fairy had encountered some humans, who had not been kind.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You said.

But she didn’t trust your words and took a step back, getting near the other side of the river.

“Stay away.” She said from the distance.

You stood still, trying to convince her that you were not dangerous. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“All humans do is lie.” She said, holding her dress between her hands. “If you say you are not going to hurt me, then turn around.”

“I… okay.” You turned around looking at the forest and waited for her to say something. “I was just here looking for something to eat.” You started talking. “And I heard you singing, you have a beautiful voice.”

She didn’t respond and the minutes started to pass and finally you turned your head slightly, finding that you were left alone, that that beautiful fairy was gone.

You couldn’t blame her, if your suspicions were right the last thing she wanted was to be with a human. You sighed and you crouched down by the river to drink water in your canteen, the sun was shining brightly in the sky and you still had not gotten any animals to take home.

You turned and began to walk in search of some food, normally you had a good eye, you caught a prey right away but that day your mind seemed to be somewhere else. Your mind kept remembering the soft melody of that fairy. You had been left wanting to ask her name and find out more about her.

After a few minutes searching in the forest you managed to catch a small hare, it wasn't much, but at least you were going to be able to eat for a few days, ever since your older brother passed away, it was just you.

With the hare on your back, you prepared to leave the forest, the sun had gone down and it had become too late for your liking.

“Do you think they will pay us more if we bring her alive or death?” You heard not far away from him.

“Alive, but you idiot decided to shoot an arrow at her.” You heard another voice.

You moved stealthily through the bushes until he reached where two robust men were standing. They had their backs to you and were both equipped with a sword and bow and arrows.

“Well let’s hope she doesn’t bleed to death then.” The shorter of the two said under his breath.

And you frowned, looking with your eyes to see what they were talking about. Your heart turned upside down when you saw the fairy you met hours before on the floor and tied, while bleeding from one of her legs.

Your jaw and fists clenched and you began to see red. Taking a deep breath, you stepped out from where you had been watching both men.

“Hey!” Both of them turned to look at you. “What are you doing?”

Both men looked at each other and laughed. “Oh another pretty girl, don’t tell me, you are also a fairy? Should we sell you too?” The taller one laughed and you felt sick.

You drew the tallest man's sword, cutting off his hand that was still close to him. A sharp cry came from his throat and you fixed your gaze on the other man.

“You will pay for that bitch!” The other one shouted and he drew his sword to attack you, who easily dodged it and attacked him.

You stabbed the sword into his shoulder, enough to make him suffer but not enough to kill him. You didn't like that, killing people, but you knew that you had to hurt them enough so that they wouldn't return to that place and that they would lose all desire to do what they were doing.

“We will leave!” One of them shouted.

You looked at them. “You better do it and I hope I don’t see you ever again around here or anywhere.”

The tone you had used was abrupt and imposing. You could see in the looks of both of them that they were scared and that they would not come back. Like a scared dog with its tail between its legs, they both ran out of there.

The swore on your hand then felt heavy and you dropped it against the red-dyed grass. You quickly approached the fairy, who was pale and had beads of sweat falling down her face.

“Hey…” You whispered as softly as you could. “I will take you somewhere to treat you, okay?” She didn’t respond but you knew she was conscious. “Just stay awake a little bit more okay?”

Fortunately for you, she was smaller than you, so carrying her to your house wasn’t going to be a problem. At that moment you were grateful that your father had taught you swordsmanship and that you knew how to fight, despite being a girl. Otherwise you would probably be dead by now and her, well she would probably be sold on the magical beings market and would be taken to the highest bidder.

You shook those thoughts away from your head, trying not to think about the possibilities of what could have happened and focused your full attention on taking her safely to your house.

The sun was low in the sky when you reached the front door of your family house. Not letting her body go, you opened the door with your foot, making the sound of the old door cross the whole empty house.

Giving a quick glance to the fairy, making sure she was still breathing. Your body relaxed when you saw she was still alive. Tightening your grip on her waist, you moved through the house until you reached your room and carefully placed her on the bed. You sighed as you pulled away from her and looked at her, her face was wet and pale.

The piece of cloth you had tied around her leg to stop the bleeding was completely soaked. You needed to close the wound.

You left the room in a rush and started searching for a needle and thread. When you had what you needed you stood next to the bed and without wanting to hurt her you removed the cloth from her leg. With the greatest care and your clumsy skills you sewed the wound. You would take her to a healer, but you knew what it meant to expose a fairy, the risks that it entailed especially for her.

You let yourself fall when the wound was completely healed and sighed in relief. Now you just hoped that she would survive the night. With wet cloths you tried to lower her temperature.

The sun had set when you sat down on a chair next to the bed earlier, you would spend the night next to her to make sure nothing bad happened to her. The room was lit by the flickering candlelight and allowed you to see the beautiful face of that nameless fairy. Looking at her profile you fell asleep.

You didn’t wake up again until the rays of sun hit you right in the eyes. Squeezing your eyes shut and opening them gently, you looked around until you finally met the frightened gaze of the fairy, who was looking at you from the bed and covering her body with the sheet. Surprised, you stood up and approached the bed, but when you saw her gripping the sheet tighter, you stopped.

She was scared.

“It’s okay…” You said with the softest voice. “I’m not going to hurt you.” She didn’t respond. “My name is…” You told her your name, trying to gain a bit of trust from her.

She still didn’t move, and she looked at you with so much fear. You tried to breathe and think of something so you could get her to trust you.

“It’s your wound alright?” You asked her. “I’m not an expert healer, so I did what I could.”

She gently lifted the sheet and looked at her leg. When her hazel eyes met yours again, she nodded and you sighed in relief.

“That’s good…” You walked towards the door. “I will get breakfast for us, wait for me.” You smiled at her.

You walked out of the room and slapped your face, what was wrong with you? You had felt extremely nervous when he looked at you with those eyes.

“Ugh! I’m going crazy.” You muttered and walked to the kitchen.

When you returned to your room, with breakfast already prepared, you found the fairy sitting in front of the window, looking out over the green plain that stretched to the horizon.

“It’s a nice view right?” You said and she looked at you with surprise. “Oh… sorry…” Embarrassed, you walked to the bed. “I don’t know what you usually eat, so I brought different things…”

You said showing her the tray. She looked at you and then at the tray, she carefully got up from the chair where she was and approached you curiously. She didn't seem so scared anymore.

“Thank you…” She whispered and your heart skipped a bit when you heard her soft tone again.

“Oh…” Yourself started to warm up again and your heart beat faster.

“Utahime…” She said picking up a cherry.

“Huh?” You looked at her confused.

“My name is Utahime.” She smiled and you felt like melting under that smile.

“Oh…” You started to play with your hands. “That’s a really pretty name… does it mean something.”

She nodded as she licked her lips, her lips so red and… what the fuck were you thinking? “It means “song princess””

“Oh that’s… a beautiful name.” You said. “I mean you are pretty so it’s logical for you to have a pretty name.” You said without thinking much about it. “I… wait! Sorry… that’s…”

You heard her laugh and once again felt weak. “Thank you…” She whispered your name and you swore you could drop to your knees right there and gave her your whole soul and heart.

“Yeah…” You chuckled nervously. “Eat as much as you want.”

Utahime took more fruit and, closing her eyes, savored each of the pieces you had brought her. You watched her in silence, feeling how she had relaxed in your presence and how the hint of fear you had seen at the beginning was no longer there.

“You are not scared anymore?” You asked her hesitantly.

She shook her head. “No. Your aura is not scary or doesn’t hold any bad intentions behind, so I’m okay.”

“You can see people’s auras?” You said surprise.

She giggled and you looked away, she couldn’t be that beautiful. “We do.”

With your heart pounding in your chest, you followed her along as she ate the fruits and made small sounds of joy that warmed your heart. When you left the room, Utahime was quick to appear behind you, watching your movements.

Her presence alone illuminated your entire home, her translucent wings with a pink undertone, letting the sunlight through, forming beautiful patterns on the wooden floor.

The day passed quietly, you were able to discover more about Utahime. Apparently she lived in the forest with her family, since it was the safest place to escape from humans. But it wasn't always safe, as you had already been able to see. She also told you that the scar that crossed her face had been made when she was 14 years old, a fairy with some imperfection was worth less and in a desperate act Utahime did just that. Your blood boiled when the story came out of Utahime's mouth, how could such despicable beings exist.

“But it’s okay…” She touched your skin. “You saved me this time.”

You weren't aware of it, but you were starting to fall for that hazel-eyed fairy.

The days started to pass, weeks and before you could realize Utahime had been living with you for a month. She accompanied you to the market, with your dresses and a cloak that covered her wings, she helped you with your chores and told you stories. But something you had noticed or felt the sensation of, was that the home that had become cold and gray after the death of your parents had taken on a bright, warm, golden color.

And you knew why it was, Utahime started to lit up your life as soon as she gave you the first smile. Everything in you had changed with that smile and that look.

Your heart too because now was beating for someone.

Your name resonated on the room and you turned to look. “Look! I made this!” Utahime approached you with a smile, showing you the scarf she had knitted. “I made it for you.” She put it on you. “So you won’t be cold in the winter.”

Her hand rested on your chest and you wanted to stop breathing, for fear that Utahime would notice your racing heart. “Utahime…”

“Yes?” She looked at you.

“I…” What were you about to do? You surely lost your mind right? “I… I like you.”

You closed your eyes and took a step back, causing Utahime's hand to fall to her side. You were afraid to open your eyes, would he be looking at you with disgust? With fear? With contempt? Oh you were terrified of finding out, so you decided to be a coward and leave the house, leaving Utahime completely alone.

You walked away of the house, holding tightly to your old dress and trying to calm down your nerves.

You knew you had screwed up everything and that when you returned, Utahime would no longer be there. The house would be lonely, cold and grey again. Your life would be the same again, its warmth would disappear because you had decided to open your mouth.

The sun wasn’t in the sky anymore when you returned home. And it was dark, completely dark when you stepped inside. You swallowed the urge to cry and walked to the kitchen, where you lit a candle and walked to your room. Your eyes widened as you found Utahime's figure on the bed, a smile on her face.

“You came!” She said and walked towards you and took your hand to guide you to the bed. “I was really worried, you left.” She pouted.

“You…” You wanted to ask her so many things.

Why are you here? I thought you were going to leave. I fucked up.

But the words didn’t come out of your throat and you could only scan her face. Her eyes looked at you with a mix of concern and anticipation.

Utahime’s face was only lit up by the candle light but you could clearly see her. Her eyes, her nose and… her lips. Those lips you have been dying to taste, to savor and know if they tasted the way you imagined them.

“Do it…” She whispered and you locked your eyes with hers again. “I know you want to kiss me… I want it too.”

You swallowed and carefully connected your lips on a gentle kiss. Your trembling hand tangled in her long black hair and squeezing her head accentuated the kiss. She tasted like strawberries, blackberries, and cherries. God Utahime tasted so fucking good.

You pulled away from her when you both ran out of air and looked at each other, her cheeks were flushed and her lips were completely swollen from the kiss.

Utahime’s eyes darkened with desire. “More.” She said without hesitation.

You didn’t need her to tell you twice. You captured her lips again, but this time the kiss was anything but gentle. It was fervent, hungry. Your hands roamed over her body, feeling the heat of her skin through the fabric of her clothes, as hers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, deeper into the kiss.

A soft moan escaped her lips as you gently bit her bottom lip, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine, causing the hairs on your body to stand on end. You pressed her back into the bed, your body pressed against hers, your hands exploring every inch of her they could reach.

Her hands were just as eager, sliding down your back and pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you. She arched into you, her body responding to your touch in ways that made your blood boil. The sweet taste of her lingered on your tongue, and you couldn’t get enough, couldn’t help but want more.

“God, you feel so good.” You murmured against her lips. You trailed kisses, from her jaw to her breasts. Every gasp, every shudder of pleasure that escaped her lips only fueled your need, pushing you to explore further.

She whispered your name, a plea that was barely coherent, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you. You responded by sliding your hands beneath her silk dress, feeling the heat of her bare skin against your palms. The soft gasp that followed was all the encouragement you needed. You pushed the fabric higher with both hands.

As your lips trailed down to the newly exposed skin, she tugged at your clothing, eager to feel more of you, to take you to the same hell that was consuming her. Your thumb caressed her underwear fabric and Utahime tightened her grip on your shoulders.

“Don’t stop.” She sighed.

You had no intention of stopping. You smirked and lowering yourself, took her underwear off. Scanning her face you started to eat her out. Her lips started sucking Utahime’s clit as your free hand, who was not playing with her nipple, started going in and out of her pretty pussy.

Utahime’s back arched herself, seeking your pleasure and your warmth. Her lust was invading you and you just let yourself go, savoring her, enjoying her burning heat and her intimacy.

Her lips could only repeat your name and that only made you want to devour her more. Consume her. Your heart was pounding strongly in your chest and your movements were firm and with a clear intention, to make her yours.

Her legs rose and her body began to shake, a symbol that her orgasm was about to explode. Closing your eyes, you concentrated on her coming, on her enjoying herself and on being able to touch the sky with her fingers.

“Oh…” She mumbled as her hands placed over your head.

You keep on sucking until her loud scream and cum indicated you that she has reached her climax. You smiled separating yourself from her pussy and licked your lips while looking at her messy figure.

“You should sleep…” You laid down next to her.

“But what about you?” She whispered, still shaky.

“It’s okay…”

You wanted to say that maybe in another time she could be the one to start and that you could have more fun, but you were still unsure where your relationship was. You confessed your feelings but she… she didn’t and now, you shared a moment of intimacy like that.

“Well… next time let me make you feel good too.” She laid over her chest and her beautiful wings shined in the night.

“You… you want more?” You murmured.

She nodded and locked your fingers together. “I do… I… I love you too.” She smiled and your world stopped moving. “You okay?” She tilted her head.

“Yeah! Yeah.” You smiled and touched her cheek. “I love you too, my song princess.” She giggled and kissed your lips. “Could you sing me the song that you were singing that day? When we met.”

“Sure…” She started to hum the familiar song.

The song that guided you across that forest till where she was, your beautiful fairy.

“What is about?” You whispered as you played with her black hair.

“About finding your destined one.” She smiled and you smiled back.

You truly felt like you had found your destined person, all because you followed her beautiful voice into that forest.

[leqonsluv3r]

naughty or nice?

re2 leon!kennedy x fem!reader

— a oneshot

(an: merry Christmas my lovelies, hope you enjoy this oneshot. it’s not proofread but i did my best. hope you enjoy <3 )

warnings: MDNI, 18+, established relationship, fluff, reader is female (she/her) pronouns used, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up), oral (f receiving), softdom!leon, sub!reader, and anything else i forgot to mention my lovelies.

“rubber boots, the red fleece, her mind wanders. what is he doing? why is…oh? santa has come to visit, in her mind she knows better. her breathing evens out as she realizes that santa is…muscular. igniting a fire within her body as she moves forward, lightly skating her nails down his back.”

— or leon dresses up as santa to deliver reader a very special present

she had no clue what she was going to do. she had forgotten to grab the key to the closet where she had stored her boyfriends gifts. she quickly realized that he wasn’t in bed either, which wasn’t uncommon.

leon liked his late night shows just as much as he loved you, so who was she to disturb such a fragile part of his routine. she crawled to the bedroom door of their bedroom, peeking out.

she grabbed the key from her purse and went to creep down the stairs, she didn’t hear the tv playing. which was weird. when leon watched tv it was playing soft enough. she shrugged and didn’t think much of it.

she moved her feet to the door of the closet down the hallway, going to open it with a small creak sound. she winced and hoped that he hadn’t heard that. praying that maybe he had drifted off in his sleep whilst watching tv like he usually did.

she goes in and turns on the light, grabbing the neatly wrapped gift boxes that contained leon’s presence, she gathered a couple into her arms and snuck them down the hallway, pausing when she saw…

rubber boots? what the…

she paused and took in the form that was bringing gifts out of a gift bag and setting them meticulously and carefully under the tree. red satin and black rubber boots. since when did santa have such a muscular back? she thinks to herself.

but the sleep that clouded her mind as she comes forward and looks at her boyfriend who hadn’t noticed her yet, dressed up in a santa costume. he was hand delivering her presents under the tree. seemed like you both had the same idea.

“santa come early this year? or is this just some kink i don’t know about?” she asks, laughing at the way his frame paused and turned around to face her, his cheeks heating up. she kept his gifts hugged to her chest.

“you weren’t supposed to see this…” he starts to say with a blush on his cheeks and a small gesture to the santa costume and the presents that were going under the tree. “i still had it from work.” he pauses, trying to figure out how to explain this without embarrassing himself further.

of course, he was a cop. a rookie at that. of course he got looped into dressing up as santa this year for the christmas party at the station. it all made sense now. she chuckled, bringing the boxes and putting his neatly wrapped gifts under the tree.

“hot.” she chuckles as she looks up at him as she bent over the tree skirt, shoving neatly wrapped gifts for himself under it. “hot?” he blinks in confusion as he looks at the santa costume on his body, then at him.

“do you have some kink i don’t know about?” he repeats with furrowed brows as he looks down at her. she got off the floor, staring up at him. now it was her turn for her cheeks to flush red and for her body to freeze.

“no, god.” she says with a snort, shaking her head. she looks at the costume again, then at his handsome yet sweet face. “you just make a good santa…a really good one.” she says with a small baited breath. she looks back at the tree, hoping that in the dim light of the room he can’t see the way he cheeks flush red.

he smirks a little with a small brow raise, scanning her face. he had been with her too long to know how she operated. he knew she was turned on. it wasn’t a surprise either.

“i knew you liked the police uniform, but the santa one?” he chuckles with a low tone as he steps toward her, rubber boots on the hardwood floors. “didn’t know you’d get all hot and bothered over this.”

she swallows; he can read me like a book, she thinks to herself. damning it that he can see through her like glass. it’s almost irritating and impressive at the same time.

he’s so close to her now that she can feel his body heat, making her react in a way that’s almost primal. she doesn’t know what it is about the santa costume, she wants to tear it off him and sit on his lap at the same time.

it’s making her crazy.

“shut up.” she mumbles as her cheeks flush red, lightly shoving his arm. she glares daggers at him. “i hate you.” she hisses in embarrassment, knowing exactly what he’s doing to her by teasing her in the santa costume.

he shakes his head and points a finger at her, a mischievous grin growing on his angelic features. “have you been naughty or nice?” he says in a low voice.

jesus christ. if she wasn’t wet before, she certainly is now. she feels her cheeks get redder, her lips parting only a little and her eyes widening. “shut up.” she hisses in a shaky voice, trying to fight the embarrassment.

“that’s no way to speak to santa,” he retorts with a teasing look in his blue eyes, waggling a finger at her as he pulls her close to him. the air slipping from her lungs and rendering her speechless as he does that. “leon…” she says in almost a soft whine.

“what? oh? are you getting all hot and bothered by santa?” he teases with a grin on his face, his voice dropping an octave. his hands holding onto her hips firmly as he drops his face to her ear. “i think you need to tell santa what it is you really want for christmas.” he chuckles as he nibbles at her ear.

she shivers and feels her want pool more in her panties, practically drenching the fabric useless beneath her pajama pants. “i don’t wanna.” she says in a shaky whisper, licking at her chapped lips.

he lets his hand slide to her ass, cupping it in his large hand and squeezing it. a small gasp emitting from her lips. “tell me, or i’ll put you on the naughty list.” he nibbles on her ear again, making her body react.

she knows she’s going to have to tell him, even if it’s painfully obvious for him to know. he knows all her mannerisms by now. when she’s happy, when she’s sad. and most importantly when she’s horny.

“i want you to fuck me.” she whispers softly as he massages and holds her ass in his large hand. she can’t move away from him, not that she’d want to anyways. she doesn’t mind being this close to him. having his hands on her ass in a hold that is so dominating it makes her underwear soaked.

he chuckles lowly and presses a kiss below her ear on her jaw, “mmm, okay. santa can give you that.” he says with a tinge of amusement in his voice. “be a good girl and go over on the couch and take off your pajamas for me.” he says with a small kiss to her cheek, patting her ass reassuringly.

she grins shyly, going over to the couch away from him. she strips off her pj bottoms and then her shirt. leaving her top half bare and her bottom half covered in the underwear that were definitely ruined by now.

“jesus, baby.” he says as she walks over to her, resting his large hands on her bare hips. leon’s eyes traveling over her bare breasts and her smooth and soft stomach. “your so beautiful.” he whispers softly, marveling her in a way that no man has before. she smiles in a way that is so full of love for the man before her.

even if he’s dressed like santa.

“sit down for me and spread your legs on the couch, santa’s gonna give you an early christmas present.” he says with a smirk. she nods and sits down on the couch, her back against the cushions as she spreads her panty clad legs wide. he looks over her, slipping off the black boots and the hat to the santa costume in a haste.

she chuckles a little at his urgency, as if he hadn’t eaten her out a million times before. he almost trips and quickly regains himself as he gets on the floor in between her legs, just the jacket and pants to the santa costume on.

“mmm, been hungry all day. and not for food.” he says with a smirk and a glint in his eyes. his large hands traveling up her soft thighs, caressing them in a caring gesture. his blue eyes tracing your body like a pencil outline.

she felt herself take a breath at his words, her lips parting again as he grabbed the hem of her underwear, pulling them down over her legs and onto the floor by their discarded items of clothing.

“so wet for me. fuck.” he says in a soft rasp as he lifts her legs over his broad shoulders and running his fingers over her inner thighs, close to where she really wants him. “leon…” she whines softly in protest. her chest heaving, so worked out that she feels like she could burst if he didn’t do something soon.

“it’s okay, baby. since it’s christmas soon, no teasing. i promise.” he says with a small grin, licking his lips. he felt his cock throb in his pants at the sight of her glistening center before him. all wet and ready for him.

he starts pressing kisses to her thighs and letting his lips press to her inner thighs, trailing and making some marks with his lips there. she whines and lets a hand drift to his dirty blonde hair, gently running her fingers through it.

he lets out a small growl of arousal as he presses a kiss to right above her slit, burying his nose into her slit and inhaling. “smells so sweet honey, all dripping and wet for me. fuck.” he whispers lowly. her chest rising and falling in tandem as she holds onto his hair in a tight but soft grip.

she lets out a small moan as he finally kisses her clit, making her body shake a little. he starts licking at it in small circles with his tongue, her head falling back against the couch, reaching a hand up to palm her breast.

he moves his mouth down, holding his large hands to prevent her from bucking up as he feasts on her cunt. “oh so good, could eat you forever baby.” he says in a hoarse voice before sticking his tongue into her hole, starting to tongue fuck her.

she grips his hair tighter and moans lewdly, letting it echo off the walls of the living room, she looks down at him as he tongue fucks her, meeting his blue eyes that stare right into her soul.

“god…fuck…” she moans breathlessly as she watches him eat her and tongue fuck her dripping hole. it becomes to much for her and she feels like her body will burst into flames. her head falls back and she releases more moans of pleasure, her eyes squeezing shut.

“keep moaning for me, sweet girl. i wanna hear you when you cum all over my face.” he growls as he sucks on her clit again, squeezing her hips with his rough hands. one of his hands leaving her hips to start fingering her while he licked at her clit. he sticks in two fingers and starts curling him inside her, devouring her clit like a man starved.

“cum…cuming…” she babbled as she arched her back off of the couch. the mixture of his tongue sucking and licking at her clit, his fingers curling and hitting that spot inside of her was enough to drive her over the edge. feeling it wash over her as she cums all over his mouth and fingers, moaning loud enough that it echoed off of the living room walls.

she feels it wash over her in relief and delight, her chest rising and falling as he worked her through it. lapping up at her release and removing his fingers from her. he presses a kiss to her overstimulated center before looking up at her.

her breath catches as she regains control of her breathing, his chin drenched in her release. he catches his breath too as if he didn’t just make her cum. he brings his drenched fingers up to her lips. “clean up your mess, baby.” he says in a low chuckle. she opens her mouth and sucks her release off of his fingers.

she sucks on them while she makes eye contact with him, knowing exactly what she’s doing. his blue eyes were blown his irises wide with lust. “jesus…you’re on the naughty list for sure.” he says as he licks his lips and withdraws his fingers from her mouth, his cock twitching in his boxers.

she smirks with a giggle, “my bad. sorry.” she says in a teasing voice, making big innocent eyes at him. he shakes his head, “no your not. i can tell when your lying to me baby.” he says with a smirk. he stands up to his full height, pulling off the pants to the santa costume and undoing the buckle on his santa costume so it falls open to reveal his chest. “so be a good girl and lay down on the couch.” he says.

and of course, she’s not going to say no. she moves herself to lean back on the couch, her head propped on the couch pillow as she moves backwards. she observes the wet spot in his boxers where his erection sits, licking her lips. he catches her staring and puts his hand underneath her chin, gently bringing her eyes up to his face. “my eyes are up here, sweetheart.” he whispers softly, a grin on his face at him catching you ogling his erection in his boxers.

“sorry.” she swallows as she looks at him. he shakes his head, an amused sound leaving his mouth. “mmm, yeah, your not. everytime i bring my dick out you practically go dumb.” he says with a small caress of her jaw, then moving his hand away to crawl in between her legs on the couch, leaning over her body.

he wasn’t wrong, not when she could barely think when any form of his cock was out. covered or not.

his covered erection pressed into her bare folds, causing her to gasp and grasp at his shoulders. “i think you need to get fucked baby. hmm?” he says with a low chuckle as he presses his lips to her neck, one of his hands going up to her breast and kneading it. his thumb rubbing over her nipple, causing you to moan softly. “i think you do.” he whispers against her skin, his lips traveling lower to her collarbone.

his body is slotted so perfectly between hers on the couch, caging her in an innocent but safe way. she felt so aroused as his lips travel down to her breast, sucking it into her mouth and swirling his tongue around it. his fingers still playing with the other one, “leon…please, please…fuck..” she moans in small pants as her chest arches more into his mouth.

he bites lightly on her nipple causing her to whine, “don’t rush me.” he says in a low voice, her heels coming up to wrap around his hips in protest.

so much for not teasing, she thinks to herself.

he keeps licking and soothing her nipples, the place he bit on her nipple with small kisses. he then switches and licks on the other one, his hand working on her other tit. she moans louder and arches her back into his mouth again, a hand going into his hair.

eventually he finishes licking at her breasts, obviously keen on taking his time. he then leans up to her face, pressing a small kiss to her lips. “you ready for your present baby?” he whispers with a small smirk against her lips. she just nods rapidly, she was falling apart and he hadn’t even fucked her yet.

“please.” she whines softly as she looks up at him, her eyes round and begging. he smirks and pulls his boxers down with one hand to let his hard cock spring free. “mmm, you see what you do to me?” he says with a gentle caress of her chin, making her look down in between to see his raw and throbbing erection.

she nods dumbly as if she wasn’t the one that caused it, practically drooling as she looks at his cock. noticing the small smear of precum on the head. she tries to reach in between them to grab it but he’s faster, grabbing her hand and pulling it over her head, effectively pinning her wrists against the couch.

“no, sweetheart. sorry. but i wanna cum inside of you and if you start touching on me. i won’t.” he explains with a small quirk of his lips at her, his voice low. his hand holds her wrists in place as he leans down and presses a small kiss to her jaw, his hand gripping his erection and rubbing the head through her folds, causing her to moan loudly. “leon…”

“don’t worry baby, i got you.” he says in a soft but dominant tone, letting his hand guide the head of his cock into her waiting and dripping hole. she whimpers softly, her eyes screwing shut as he moves his hips more, sliding all the way in to a hilt.

she always felt so full of him, his cock always splitting her in half in the most delicious way. it would leave her achy until the next morning so that she could remember him fucking her into oblivion.

“taking it all, sweet girl. doing so well.” he praises as he slowly pulls out and then goes back in, setting a steady pace as he keeps her wrists pinned to the couch above her head. skin slapping together echos in the living room as he fucks her in a steady but sweet pace, making her brain go dumb.

“feels good?” he whispers into her ear huskily, voice dripping with arousal. she nods intensely as he keeps fucking her at a steady but fast pace. his cock nudging at her cervix. “harder, please.” she begs in a small voice, her eyes squeezing shut in pleasure, a small pathetic moan leaving her pink lips.

“your wish is my command, baby.” he chuckles lowly in her ear as he leans back, pulling his hand away from her wrists. he leans back on his haunches, grabbing her legs and putting her ankles on his shoulders, pressing her thighs to her bare chest. this angle was making her mouth dry as he puts a hand on either side of her head: bracing himself.

with no warning he starts pounding into her like a jackhammer, not even caring how much noise they were making. they were both so lost in the heat of the moment, they’d probably get a noise complaint but neither of them cared one bit. “so tight…always so fucking tight for me.” he says in a groan as his brows furrow, his hips never faltering.

she arches her back a little at his insistent pounding into her pussy, her body aching but pleasure replacing it as she nears her peak, at this angle he was perfectly hitting her cervix. “leon…just like that…” she moans lewdly as her head falls back into the couch pillow, her hair getting messed up against it and not even caring in the moment.

“taking me so well. such a good girl.” he groans as he nears his climax, continuing to pound into her with fevor. she nods incoherently as she tried to breath but his dick was fucking the air right out of her lungs at a punishing pace.

“you close? want me to cum in that pretty pussy?” he says in a low voice as he reaches down, cupping her breast in one hand, flicking his thumb over her nipple. “please.” she whines softly as she feels herself reaching that blissful place of no return.

“mmm, good girl.” he says in a small growl as he pounds into her a little sloppier as he tries to chase his orgasm, pressing a tender kiss to her ankle that’s on his shoulder. she holds onto him tightly as she feels herself growing hot, her body shaking.

he knew she was close, after a long time of having sex with her. he knows all the most intricate parts of her like a machine. he knows where she wants to be touched, what positions she likes…all of it.

she feels her pussy start to clench around his dick as she moans loudly, letting it echo throughout the living room yet again. “give it to me baby, cum for me.”

at his words and a couple more thrusts, she feels herself drench his cock, letting herself clench around him. he lets out a groan at his cock getting suffocated by her walls as she releases. feeling her cum drip and surround his cock, it gives him all the power he needs. he grips her ankles and thrusts into her a couple more times.

he then cums inside of her, his cock spurting hot sticky release into her fertile body. she whimpers at this, her body still put in the mating press as he finally cums into her. she breathes raggedly and lazily looks up at him.

“you like your christmas present?” he says with a lazy smirk, pushing some of his dirty blonde hair out of his eyes, some of it sticking to his sweaty forehead. he’s still inside her but massages her ankles as he looks down at her post-sex body. she smirks, lazily opening her eyes and nodding, “oh absolutely.”

“best christmas present ever.” she murmurs with a warm smile. he lets her thighs go, leaning down to kiss her as he pulls out of her. massaging her inner thighs in a comforting gesture as he holds her close, his body towering hers. “i’m glad you think so.” he says sweetly as he presses a kiss to her sweaty cheek.

“just wait until you see your actual present.” he says with a small chuckle as he leans up over her, reaching a hand to push some hair back from her forehead. “your going to lose it.” he smiles at her in a way that makes butterflies erupt in her stomach.

and somehow, she loves having him. he’s better then any present, under any tree, anywhere. she got lucky and she knows that every single day.

taglist — @heartsforvin

(comment to join the taglist, pls reblog and follow for more <3)

[totothewolff]

Season of Love (7/?)

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal, romance, comedy, and some good drama.

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you tell Toto: "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That's the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong? Author's note: This is a multichapter Toto Wolff x team principal reader fic set along a season of F1. It's a very immersive story full of drivers, team dynamics, races, mystery, and smut. You just bought the Williams team, but nobody really knows who you truly are.

< Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

The Color of Truth is Blue Arc Chapter 7: Red flagsss

Italy

You stay off-the-grid that entire weekend to everyone's concerns. 

Your phone remains turned off and forgotten on the sofa at Seb's place, kilometers away from you now, as he takes you on a sudden road trip through the Italian Riviera in his 1995 classic blue Citroën DS19. 

Knowing the beautiful scenery and brief stops at the Mediterranean towns' gorgeous tourist sites would keep your mind from hurtful thoughts.

And, boy, he was right. 

Your mood gets less somber as you two enjoy your gelatos while peacefully walking the Giardini Botanici Hanbury, feeling the fresh breeze from the trees on your skin and hearing the birds chirping around you.

It turns out Seb is full of great love and life advice. He sounds so mature and open about it that it seems new and shocking to you.

How can someone love so freely and so fearlessly?

-

Seb watches you sigh as you finish packing the clothes you bought and wore during the weekend in your also new suitcase since touring Italy in his clothes seemed like something other than a fit for your aesthetics and ego. 

Still, you chose to wear his vintage Monty Python t-shirt with mom jeans for the flight back, as you loved the graphic, its colors, and the fact that it fits you a bit oversized and comfy. It made you feel safe.

—Everything will be fine —he expresses.

—I know —you look at Seb and give him a shy smile, only if he knew.

—Ready, then? —he holds open the door for you.

—More than ever —you answer, and you are.

-

Hungary

Much to your poor nerves, the Hungary Grand Prix week is finally here.

And you need to meet Pascal on the outskirts of town so he can deliver you the device.

That nervous sensation in your stomach grows as the chauffeur/gunman drives you closer to the meeting point, which is inside the third floor of a decadent and abandoned old building from the socialist era.

It's been more than a decade since last you saw him in person, as he was getting violently pinned down to the floor and dragged away by a SWAT team as you screamed.

His piercing blue eyes and his handsome face were covered in blood coming from a deep wound over his eyebrow from the contact of a fist punch as he whispered a soft and reassuring "I will be fine; you will be fine." 

That memory was forever tattooed in your brain, sometimes making you wake up with a cold sweat at night.

As you finish climbing the narrow swirl stairs that once may have been stunning, you open the enormous, washed-down, and scratched-wood double doors. They creak so loud, making the place echo, as the tall, muscular figure of a man looking out of an open, broken window turns your way, following the sound.

Your heart skips at the sight of him; you guess those feelings never truly disappeared. 

He watches you approach him with the same expression as your heels clack loudly on the dirty, now opaque, tiled floor. 

You rush your pace in the last couple of remaining steps. Reaching closer to Pascal's figure, a smile forms on his lips, expecting you to throw yourself into his arms. 

But as you are millimeters away from his body, you slap him so hard, making his head turn. His lip bleeds a little bit from the contact before sinking into his neck as he pulls you in a really tight hug above the ground; your hand caresses his hair and cheek as you lay your foreheads in one another.

—It's great to see you, kid. We don't have much time —Pascal tells you as he places you back to the ground and points to the ankle monitor on his calf with a blinking light. —Inside this is the tracker; follow the protocol precisely as we practiced it, and everything will be alright. You are so brave —he hands you a green Hermes bag. —Go.

You want to talk to him more, say more, and let him know all that happened in your life after him and thanks to him, but he rushes you to leave, not wanting to expose you more than necessary, and for you to return to safety.

You slide your hand down his arm and squeeze his hand as you walk away, letting it go only when he gets out of your reach.

-

The weather at the track gets damn awful, umbrellas everywhere, grey skies, and all lights on, even if it's really early.

The free practice is a complete mess, thanks to the various puddles and Logan's car pinballing around.

Sam looks extremely uneasy that day under the stern scrutiny from Toto.

—Stop it. You are making me uneasy, too. What's with you? —he asks as Sam nervously moves around.

—Nothing, I don't want Lewis to crash or George to get hurt. That thing with Logan was awful —she lies quickly, as paramedics had to help him out of the car while many "ouchs" from the crowd were exchanged as he wasn't walking alright. 

Toto looks at her with a deadly "Please, I'm not stupid" look.

But he lets it go before he overhears; Niki asks her directly as she reaches him. —Have you heard from her?

Sam knows exactly to whom (you) he is referring. —No.

And that's what makes her more nervous than anything. "Please, be ready," she thinks.

Toto raises an eyebrow at the interaction. Is something going on?!

-

You decide to show up until qualy. 

You walk around the paddock and pitline as if following a path, but this is only noticeable if someone is paying you lots of attention, which Charles is.

He catches your step in the middle, distracting you; you cut him as he opens his mouth to say something.

—Not now, later —you look so authoritarian he doesn't protest. —I need to focus. Do you get it? —now you mutter to him, low.

He nods. —Take care, please —is all he says, and he walks away. He is not able to talk to you about what happened at the Gala and about all Seb told him; he only told him the bits Seb knew weren't to be kept.

Toto is there, too, observing your every move. The more he looks and follows you, the weirder it gets.

Judging by the expression you and Charles shared, how nerve-wracking Sam is acting, and how quiet Niki is, there is no way something isn't happening.

Could it be the aftermath of what happened at the Gala? To which he is the one to blame for.

-

Toto waits for the perfect moment to confront Sam. After the practice ends and everyone moves to the hospitality and headquarters, he notices the blond walking down the corridor of his office in the direction of Niki's. He quickly gets on his feet and follows her around. Sam notices and rushes her pace.

Out of nowhere, he pushes Sam softly against the wall to make her stop. —What's going on? Don't dare to lie to me —he looks dead concerned about it, borderline paranoid.

—It's not my place to tell you —she sadly replies and pushes him away too, roughly, knowing the last time she said those words, she ended up hurting a friend. —Don't push it! It won't work! My lips are sealed —she warns him as she fixes her shirt and returns to work.

—I know I fucked it up —Toto lets out, looking at Samanta's back as she faces the door down the hall as he leans one of his hands on the wall.

Fuck, he sounds so sad, almost wounded. Sam closes her eyes, feeling awful, before taking a step and walking away in total silence.

-

It's the eve of the Hungarian Grand Prix, and the paddock is abuzz with excitement and anticipation.

It's regular business with teams preparing their cars and mechanics working tirelessly to ensure every engine is revving if it wasn't for the extreme security present this time.

There are not-so-discreet gunmen in different places, catching the attention of some guests and team members.

Fans gather at the circuit, voices rising in cheers. The energy is palpable as everyone eagerly awaits the engines' roar and the tires' screech on the track.

This time, The Hungarian Grand Prix is more than just a race; today, it welcomes a peculiar, to say the least, special guest to participate in the opening ceremony: one political candidate, desperate to be in the spotlight and under the cameras, seizing the opportunity with the upcoming election just weeks from today.

It has been almost a year since your intelligence team confirmed to you that the juicy donations from Hungarian and Serbian accounts addressed to the FIA/F1 were the single most crucial lead to the man you have been hunting for years and years: Jószef Lenkov.

Lenkov had planned to tour the paddock on foot before arriving at the pit lane to participate in the committee during the country's anthem ceremony.

It's your only opportunity in decades to approach him, and you can't miss it. Your entire team and life depend on it; it's personal.

-

You feel sick to your stomach as you watch Lenkov and his entire entourage arrive. After all these years, he is there, in person, just meters away from you, as in one of your nightmares; there he is, the reason behind all the suffering in your life and the ones you love.

Even if you now have a different name and aspect and are being protected and monitored, a lingering fear is still deep in you. 

You were just a child the last time you saw him.

God, how much you despise that man, how much you want to succeed in bringing him down, how much you want him gone for good.

-

You start casually walking closer and around them, near the distance but not enough to be noticed by all those guards protecting him. 

You follow the path that you rehearsed thousands of times. 

Everything goes according to plan until you make it to the pitlane on the final and most crucial move.

-

In a matter of seconds, your vision gets all blurry. 

Your ear makes an awful whistling sound, and you feel stabs of pure pain on your right forearm, the one you just got up by instinct to protect you from smashing directly into the glass, which shatters enough to hurt you as you get pushed to the side against the glass barrier where Rolex had an interactive advertising booth for those with a VIP access.

Everyone near you watches the scene in genuine shock as one of the brutal security assholes of Lenkov forces you away from him. 

As you approach the older man from behind, you are able to place your hands on his shoulder and just above his jacket pocket inside that entourage of suited security men as he waves the crowds of militants in the stands supporting him. 

Lewis watches, shocked at how little you react to such a violent punch. There is almost no expression in response from you, no wincing, which raises all his alarms. 

Samanta tries her best to look as surprised as the rest, and thank God Toto next to her is fuming with rage that doesn't pay her any attention. 

Since yesterday, he has been suspicious that something is going on and has followed her closely the entire day, too, so she has remained as far from you as possible.

A lot happens around you as you recover; Lenkov doesn't even bother to turn around or give his attention to the commotion as he gets rushed away from the scene by his team of gorillas guarding him.

Your blood starts spilling everywhere on the pitlane concrete floor; it seems and feels like a deep cut on the forearm. 

FIA security holds the violent bodyguard and escorts him out, and aid comes your way. 

You compose yourself reasonably quickly. 

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice your entire team of mechanics and drivers moving towards the guy with killer instincts since everything is happening barely a meter away from your garage entry.

—Anyone who dares to move an inch gets out of this team —you warn them in such a dangerous, deep voice. Something no one has witnessed you do before. 

Millie looks at you as you have transformed into someone else, like something buried inside you has come out.

No one dares to move. 

You rush to grab one of the mechanics' jackets and tighten it around your arm, trying to stop the bleeding. Paramedics arrive as fast as possible and start working on your nasty wound. 

Once inside the ambulance, you instruct them to take you straight to your hotel room against their will; you let them know it's an order, not an option.

You catch a glimpse of Pascal among the crowds near the pit stop. Now, he knows you have accomplished the job because of the smile you give him through the open door of the ambulance, like a lioness before eating her sleep prey.

-

After getting some provisional stitches and a fresh bandage, you arrive at the Corinthia Hotel. 

The white gauze gets redder with every step you take. Still, you hide it well behind the space thermal blanket the paramedics give you, walking as fast as possible, trying to avoid grabbing the attention of the guests in the hotel on your way to your destination. 

Drops of blood are on your expensive pink glaze tweed Valentino dress. 

You knock on the room you got instructed to, using the signal number of knocks your team told you to. 

You quickly enter the large double room once they open the door for you. The curtains are closed, and the lights are on. A team of six guys on computers with tons of cables and some devices wrapped in foil, along with a couple of gunned men, greet you. 

An exceedingly handsome, fit man in an expensive Armani power suit sits on the couch, legs crossed, with a drink in his hand. 

He turns to talk to you. —We got signal! Now we can trace him —he informs you; he notices you are hurt and instantly gets concerned, and his fierce eyes softened.

Everyone claps as you collapse next to him on the couch. He grabs your once again bloody hand and comes close to kneel in front of you, sharing an intimate moment as tears run down your cheeks, not knowing if it was the emotion of the moment or the pain provoking them.

—You succeeded! I'm so proud of you —Matt rubs a finger on your bruised knuckles and softly kisses them —The tracker you placed on Lenkov will lead us to his current quarters. I will take it from here.

You nod, exhausted.

—You are done more than enough; now I have to play my part —he informs you.

—What?! —you let out as your heart skips.

—If I don't cause a scene, it will raise questions.

—Wait, Matt, it's unnecessary! I don't think they notice; the FIA aren't exceptionally bright...

—You just got slaughtered in our team garage, and you think it is not necessary? —he looks at you with an exasperated face.

—You don't need to show up! I can handle this! I don't require you to intervene! —you enter complete panic mode; you need more time and want more time.

—What you need is a surgeon; that cut seems deep, but they will take you to the hospital now. I will meet you there after visiting the pitlane —Matt ends the conversation right there, his beautiful clear blue eyes looking authoritarian at you.

—Matthew, no, wait! —you know it is impossible to make that man change his mind; once he makes a decision, it gets done. You all live in a world that is his. You know how erratic, spoiled, and unreliable he is. 

There it is, the control freak from which you ran away.

Your limbs get cold as you have this conversation, and moving causes you so much pain now, so you let your case rest, knowing there's nothing else you can do. 

More tears run down your face, but not caused by the wound; it is your heart bleeding.

-

Samanta watches Matthew walk past the Mercedes garage's front like she is seeing a walking ghost. 

He looks gorgeous, with perfect hair, on-point clothes, and swaggy steps, but this time, he has a lethal gaze. 

He tilts his head and looks straight at her for a second. Sensing her eyes on him, Matt subtely smirks at Sam and keeps going.

Sam stays still, watching, knowing everything is about to change.

—All good? —Lewis asks her, concerned, witnessing the interaction.

—Yes, I'm just shocked and worried about what happened! I hope she's doing okay!

—We all do —Niki joins the conversation, looking somber, hands in his pockets. Then, he softly whispers to Sam. —I hope she succeeded.

—Me too —Sam answers, knowing that he knows.

Toto is quiet and reflective in his chair, far from them. Sam does everything possible not to cross his sight and avoids him the rest of the night. 

He has many questions and needs your answers.

If you ever want to talk to him ever.

He prays God you do.

That you still want him.

-

Matthew arrives at the gruesome scene with a group of lawyers, who carry cameras and tablets and start taking pictures and collecting testimonials. 

Of course, it is all pretend; your team is about to control the narrative of the events: "It was a non-related security brokerage" is about to fill social media, bots, press, and TV. 

The FIA is about to be blamed for having weak security protocols for its people.

Matt is not pleased to see your blood spread all over the pitstop's concrete floors. He feels murderous inside, and he looks like it. 

He notices many curious eyes set on him, but he is used to it; a man with his appearance always draws attention anyway.

Schumi walks to him. —Hi, Mr. De Vos. Is Y/N okay, boss?!

—I just got informed she is at the hospital right now getting surgery. I will be by her side soon. I needed to see it first with my own eyes. I can't believe this! —fuck he sounds pissed looking at the "crime scene."

-

The next day, the stewards were going nuts trying to manage the entire situation, and the busy FIA scheduled a meeting to discuss the violent events with all the astonished team principals. 

To reassure them that they were handling the situation and that there was no need for anyone not to feel safe, and to say: "It won't happen again, we swear."

—I didn't know Ken existed in real life! —Otmar jokes under his breath with Mattia and Fred as they all watch Matthew having a call on the other side of the clear glass panel walls outside the meeting room.

All TPs are gathered in a vacant and enormous room, along with some team owners, waiting for Massi to arrive and discuss the gruesome circumstances of the night before.

Matthew enters the room, grabbing everyone's attention and provoking a "Who is this guy?" face on the men inside. 

His blonde lawyer waits for him outside just by the door; they both look busy. 

That blonde guy looks familiar to Toto. Oh, yeah! It's Sam's brother.

Matthew joins the circle of chairs. —Couldn't they get cheaper ones? —he jokes as the thing squeaks with his weight. He is very muscular but lean, like a model.

Everyone laughs, agreeing.

—We look like we are about to take fucking therapy —Gunther colorfully adds.

Horner chuckles at his comment. 

—My name is Zack, and I'm addicted to speed —he teases.

—Hi, Zack! —three of them answer in unison.

—I'm Christian. I'm addicted to winning —Horner jokes, too.

—Mr. Lauda —Matthew greets him, standing to receive a hug from the older man as he joins the group. 

—Oh, so handsome as ever! —Niki comments on Matt's good looks and pats his face. Matt doesn't seem bothered by it; he has quite an authoritarian presence and a stern face that could spam from the sweetest thing to a serial killer within seconds, but he smiles at Niki.

—How is she? —Niki asks, concerned for your well-being.

—She went through reconstructive surgery, which took five hours. The glass cut tendons and nerves, so she needs to take therapy to get her movement back. She can't feel pressure or heat on her fingers and has minimal movement on her entire arm.

—Yeah, all sense gets gone for a good couple of weeks —Niki states. He knows the procedures well; he went through some after his crash. —I'm calling her to advise her on how to deal with it; it gets frustrating.

—That would be fantastic. Y/N will very much appreciate your supporting words; she is still shaken by all that has happened.

—And what happened exactly? —Mattia inserts himself in their conversation. Matthew turns to him with a cold expression, a mixture of "you aren't part of this conversation" and "I don't have anything to explain to you." 

—According to the FIA, it was just a simple "accident," but my team differs —Matthew answers him with sarcasm and deadpan.

Toto already dislikes Matt. He acts arrogant and entitled. Niki sits beside him, and Massi rushes in, followed by a group of stewards and his assistants.

—Apologies, it's been crazy! Oh! Mr. De Vos, thank you for joining us!

"Mr. De Vos?!" Toto's expression changes from annoyed to surprised as he stares for the first time straight at him, to which Matthew holds his look.

Matt instantly switches personalities as Massi addresses him. His pose goes from relaxed on his chair to dangerous, with one leg resting on his knee. His eyes look harsh, like a wolf about to bite the lamb's neck.

—This can't happen again —he says in the most authoritarian voice, with no greeting. Massi's eyes widen. —This wasn't an accident; it was incompetence from your security, your organization, and yours —Matthew destroys him. 

He knows playing with your food is not polite, but he isn't the most successful man in his type of business by being kind or soft. —Bring your PR team. I need to have a word with them —Matt continues.

Massi looks at him, alarmed, but nods, agreeing.

—Now —Matt slowly and softly finishes saying.

Massi nods again and quickly goes out of the room.

—Can we hire you? —Stroll asks Matt in awe.

—You don't have that kind of money —he jokes back.

"Yes, he is insufferable," Toto thinks.

-

After an extensive meeting, Matthew gives the FIA two months to develop a new and better security protocol, or they will sue.

-

After receiving many concerned texts and "I hope you get better soon" mentions, you finally replied in the group chat: "I now have a bionic forearm, but it doesn't shoot lasers. Bummer!"

"I have something in my body that shoots too, but neither is my arm nor are lasers," Lando jokes.

Everyone laughs.

-

During the break that the Mercedes team takes to lunch, Sam visits you at the hospital, and she takes you tons of gifts. She is the only one who is allowed to visit you or knows your location.

Among the gifts is a letter from Toto that you don't dare to open.

-

After returning from the hospital, Sam joins the girl squad for a much-needed chat.

—He looks fake! It's like the Greeks marbled him —Millie says, checking out Matthew while he talks with a man obstructed by a poster with Sam, Angela, and Brigita beside her.

—He is so handsome! That's some cute, firm bubble booty —Angela lusts for him.

—And you haven't seen him without a shirt; he has abs for days —Sam informs them.

—One can only imagine —Brigita whispers.

Matthew is chatting with Alexi, Sam's brother, behind the sign, obstructing Millie's view until he moves. 

As soon as she notices Alexi, she hugs and greets him. —Uncle! —she lets out, throwing herself into his arms, excited as they embrace each other. 

Sam joins them against her will. —How lovely! A family reunion, yikes! —she says sarcastically, pretending to hate the thing.

They all candidly talk till Niki and Toto reach them.

—You don't remember Matthew?! Really? Are you sure?! —Alexi looks incredulous at Millie as he asks her. 

She denies fiercely with her head.

—But he has been invited to many family gatherings!

—Nope! —Millie then gestures at Matt's body with her hand. —If I had seen this, I would remember it, believe me! —then she turns to him, a bit red on the cheeks. —With all due respect —she adds, and Matthew shrugs, amused.

—Don't boost his ego, please. It's already enormous —Sam rolls her eyes at them.

—No worries! —Alexi addresses his niece. —He is so used to this; a girl once fainted before him. No joking; it happened during our college years. You were so popular with the girls —then turns to face Matthew. —Y/N was the most envied girl on campus —Alexi finishes saying and then looks at the two men now joining them.

—You must be Sam's brother —Toto extends a hand to him, to Niki's right. 

 —Yes, I am! I have heard so much of you —he says as they shake hands. Alexi looks very friendly and chatty, utterly different from Sam and Matt. It could be more like Millie's genes; maybe it's that part of his family.

—I hope nice things! —Toto jokes.

—Apparently, this gremlin is fond of you —he smirks at a now embarrassed Sam at the revelation.

Alexi is Matthew's lawyer. They have been friends since childhood, since the womb as their families have been close for centuries. Yes, centuries, big old-timey money with insulting fortunes, the kind of money that would make someone sick.

They both studied law at Cambridge at the same time.

Alexi then quickly adds. —You haven't been introduced to each other, right? Matthew, this is Toto Wol..

—I know —Matt cuts him. —We just saw each other at the meeting. 

None of them moves an inch to greet the other. An awkward tension is palpable.

—Oh, well, then. Anyway, this "knows it all" is Matthew De Vos, owner of the Williams team and Y/N's husband.

"Y/N'S HUSBAND! WHAT THE FUUUU-!" Toto struggles to play it cool.

To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter > - A new arc is here with lots to unpack and reveal! Finally, we are getting to more know about her! I hope you liked this chapter, but prepare for what comes next! Read you soon <3

[fairyhaos]

. ˚ lost in this green (and in your eyes)

pairing: wood nymph!joshua x gn!reader

genre: fluff, magic realism, meet cute, besties!97z

word count: 2371

warnings: brief mentions of fainting

notes: i just. i just love wood nymph!shua a lot okay pls he'd fit the concept so devastatingly well

summary: you're lost in the forest, and it's terrible and terrifying and you're all alone but then... well, you meet someone, and suddenly you find yourself wondering if fairytales and myths really are just tales.

"Lee Seokmin, you are so dead."

You turn around in a circle, looking around for any recognisable objects around you, desperately trying to find a way out. When you see none that could possibly mark out this section of the forest as different to where you’ve been traipsing through earlier, you sigh, frustrated. 

This was all Seokmin's fault. Okay, maybe not entirely his fault, but it was all his stupid dare to get you to fetch him a squirrel from the woods (what sort of dare was that, anyway?) and now… Well, now you're lost. 

It had all started when Mingyu had abruptly announced that you should go on an outing for fun, and then Minghao, being Minghao, had insisted that all four of you take a trip into the countryside for the outing, smack-dab in the middle of nowhere for a 'healing day out' in a field surrounded by trees. It had been fun, for all of one hour before you'd devolved into a game of truth or dare that had ultimately led you to venture into the surrounding trees to go catch a squirrel for Lee Seokmin. 

Oh, that guy really is so dead if you manage to make it out.

"Seokmin? Mingyu? Can anyone hear me?"

The wind rustles the leaves in reply, almost mocking, and distantly there's the sound of some insect creaking. Everything around you is green and brown, and even when you look up, the blue sky and bright sun is covered by the dense foliage. This is a little bit terrible. 

Sighing, you continue on your trek through the woods. Not being the best with directions, you'd kind of lost where you were going about 5 minutes into the forest, and so you have no idea if you're heading back to the field or if you're going in an entirely different direction. You just hope you're not walking around in circles, because that would—

You pause in your tracks. For a moment, there’s only the sound of a pigeon cooing somewhere, but you listen harder, certain that it was a distinctive voice that you heard. And then, there it is again, louder, and you’re sure of it. There's a voice, calling for you, and it sounds a lot like Minghao. 

“Minghao!” Immediately, you’re scrambling towards the noise, running along the soft forest floor, accidentally kicking bushes and almost tripping over tree roots. “Minghao, oh my god, what took you guys so long?”

But abruptly, Minghao stops yelling for you, and the forest is silent again. The trees are tall, looming, now, and you kind of wish it was Mingyu’s stupid height looming over you rather than these dark, unresponsive trees. 

You wait, for several moments, straining to hear Minghao’s voice again. But when he calls, it’s in a completely different direction, so you curse to yourself and start running off again.

You’re deeper into the woods now, you’re sure of it, because the trees are denser and there’s less light and the sound of animals and insects have disappeared. The air is still as you run through the forest, still following the faint sound of Minghao’s voice, and when you stop, it’s as if the entire world is silent, with not even the trees making a breath of noise. 

Minghao’s voice disappears, yet again, and now you’re worried that your brain is playing tricks on you. The bushes you brush against are getting thornier, bigger, difficult to get past, and the trees look like they’ve enlarged and now seem to try and slap you across the face with their rough branches. 

You’re well and truly lost now. Minghao’s voice doesn’t sound again, and you turn around aimlessly in circles, hoping that somehow, you’ll magically find an exit. 

But then. In the eerie stillness of the forest, any sound and movement echoes through the trees, and you hear a branch snap to your left.

“Hello?” you call out, hoping it’s just Minghao or one of the others behind the bushes, waiting to jump out at you. “Who is it?”

There’s silence.

And then a bush rustles to your right.

You whip your head around. “Come on, stop playing. Just show yourself, I know you’re there.”

There’s a good chance, you know, that it’s just a woodland creature or something, but everything in this part of the woods seems so dead and dark that part of you is sure that it has to be a person rather than an animal.

Slowly, gingerly, you creep towards the bush. It rustles again, and you flinch, but then the distinct sound of Minghao’s giggles comes from the bush and you move forwards, and just as you’re peering over…

“Boo!”

A person jumps out at you, yelling in Minghao’s voice. His hair is long, his eyes are large, and he looks like he has little stars around his doe eyes and he’s smiling widely, wickedly, delighted.

You scream, and he laughs with Minghao’s laugh, and the last thing you see are his eyes suddenly widening in horror as the world fades to black and you fall to the floor.

All you can think is, ‘That wasn’t Minghao’.

————————————— 🌿

When you regain consciousness again, there’s a man leaning over you. His eyes are large and he has little stars around his doe eyes, too, and for a moment you’re sure that it was the person who had scared you who was now going to try and kidnap you.

You yelp, attempting to scramble away, but the man just shushes you, gently and firmly placing hands on your shoulders to keep you against the tree you’re propped up on.

“I’m sorry,” he says, chuckling a little. “Jeonghan is a bit of a menace, but he means well. He just loves imitating voices, and he didn’t intend to take the joke that far. He meant you no harm, truly.”

The man’s hands are now on your face, brushing your cheeks softly, making soft sounds to calm down your racing heart. Now that you’re properly looking at him, the man focused on dislodging a leaf that fell on your shoulder, you can see he’s not the same man as earlier. Not Jeonghan, or whatever this man had called him. But you stiffen up, still, unsure if you can trust him.

He looks up at you then, warm eyes meeting yours. His eyes are constantly turned up at the corners, you notice faintly. He looks like a baby deer.

“I won’t hurt you,” the man says. “I promise. No one here wants to hurt you.” He pauses. “At least, not intentionally.”

Well. That doesn’t exactly make you feel reassured.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He smiles again, and you realise that even his mouth is constantly turned up at the corners. 

He’s so pretty.

“Let me try again. I’m Joshua,” pretty man says, and he sits back a little to hold out his hand. “And I noticed that you’re a little lost here. I was wondering if I could maybe help lead you out?”

You look down at the hand, surprised to find yourself endeared by the action as you reach out to shake it. His hand is warm, too, as warm as his eyes, rough and soft in yours at the same time. Your heart is still racing when you release his hand, but now it’s for an entirely different reason.

“Y/N,” you reply, deciding that, at this point, you’re not sure you have anything to lose by following this pretty man. At least, if you die, you’ll die by the hands of a gorgeous stranger. “And I think any help would be much appreciated.”

Joshua smiles again, and takes your hand to pull you upright, swiftly walking off, hand still clasped with yours.

The woods are still silent, but it no longer feels as if every sound has been suffocated—rather, it’s a peaceful silence, and maybe it’s brought on by the peace you feel with a warm hand firmly holding yours, and a presence beside you that’s quiet and gentle and relaxing.

He’s silent the entire way, walking with you through trees as if he’s following an invisible path, pushing away branches for you and gently guiding you to one side to avoid tripping on roots. You can’t help but glance at him, often, because he’s so pretty and so calm and, in turn, it makes you feel calm too.

There are flowers weaved into his hair and they wave gently in the wind that has managed to come to life again. The forest feels lighter now, less terrifying, and birds now seem to chirp cheerfully in the trees above you.

One bird comes and lands on Joshua’s shoulder as you walk and you startle in surprise, but the man doesn’t even bat an eye, smiling down at it in greeting.

“Well, hello there,” he says. “What do you want now, you little rascal?”

Joshua’s tone is fond, affectionate, and when the bird chirrups, he laughs. 

“Yes, this person is very pretty, isn’t it?” he chuckles, and it makes you blush slightly. Nevermind the fact that he’s talking to a bird. “But unfortunately, they’re not here to stay. We need to lead them out.”

The bird trills, but Joshua just laughs again, and then it flies off.

You watch it go, curiously, and then look at Joshua, who seems completely unfazed by what would have been, to any other normal person, an incredibly weird exchange.

The stars around his eyes glitter as he turns to look at you. They don’t look like stick-on gemstones or even glitter patches, but look as if they’re embedded in his skin. As if the stars are part of him.

“What brought you here to my humble forest?” he asks, and you blink a little at the strange phrasing of his sentence. 

“Oh. I was… trying to catch a squirrel. For my friend.” It sounds ridiculous, when you say it aloud, but it manages to make Joshua laugh, sweet and beautiful and melodic, and you can’t help but smile.

He tilts his head, amused, and now his eyes are sparkling too. “A squirrel? Well, I think you may have failed at that. Unfortunately.”

You shake your head. “This is all Seokmin’s fault. He knows I’m bad with directions, and yet he sent me off into the forest. Alone.”

Joshua’s hand tightens around yours, secure. “Don’t worry. You’re not alone anymore.” He nudges his shoulder against yours, and the sun is now peeking through the leaves, casting a dappled golden shine over his face. “I’m here now.”

That makes you duck your head, shyly, awed by his beauty.

It takes a few more minutes, but eventually, the trees thin and you can see a road ahead of you, a road that looks awfully like the one that Minghao had driven down hours ago to get you to the field.

“Ah, it seems that we’re here,” Joshua says, and he lets go of your hand. When you look back at him, confused, he smiles a little sadly. “This is as far as I can take you. It’s too polluted there for me, and I can’t leave my home.”

“Your home?” you repeat, but he’s stepping forward again, and then leans in to press the lightest kiss on your cheek. It makes heat rush into your face, blushing at the sudden action, but he’s already stepping away before you can react.

“Goodbye, Y/N, and I hope you manage to get home safely.” He grins, lips turning up at the corners a little mischievously. “Hopefully you manage to catch a squirrel someday.”

You blink, startled, because suddenly he’s leaving even though he’d been by your side for so long. “Wait,” you call out, “what are you?”

Joshua laughs, and he’s already begun to fade back into the trees, the stars sparkling around his eyes. “Wasn’t it obvious?” he says.

“I’m a nymph.”

And then he’s gone, melted back into the forest, and you’re standing there alone, straining to see where he went, wanting to know what he meant, wanting to know whether he really was a mystical nymph that you only read about in legends.

You stand there at the edge of the forest for a lot longer, and are about to walk back into the trees again when there’s the sound of a car driving down the road, and someone honks the car horn loudly, making you jump and turn around.

Mingyu has rolled down the window of the passenger seat, practically half falling out of the car.

“You!” he yells. “We’ve been looking for you for ages! Why weren’t you answering your phone?”

And instantly, the memories of before you’d found Joshua come flooding back, and you run towards the car, yelling at Mingyu.

“There’s no service in a forest, idiot!” You open the car door and get in, only to be tackled by Seokmin, who’s sitting in the back seat beside you.

He sobs dramatically, wrapping his arms tight around you. “Why did you disappear like that! We thought you were dead!”

“No, I wasn’t dead, why—hey.” You frown down at him from where he’s buried his head into your shoulder. “It was you. You sent me into the forest to get you a stupid squirrel!” 

Mingyu laughs at that, looking back at you as Minghao drives off again. “Yeah, Seokmin, you sent Y/N in there.”

Seokmin’s eyes go wide as you wrestle out of his arms to shake his shoulders. “I’m going to kill you! This is all your fault!”

“What—! Hey, we found you in the end, didn’t we? Minghao! Help!”

“Hey hey, no killing in my car,” Minghao interrupts sternly, and he sounds genuinely serious, so you settle down. Not before balling your fist and shaking it at Seokmin, though. This guy really is dead once you get out of the car.

Minghao looks at you in the rearview mirror, eyes glittering amusedly. “How did you even manage to get out? You have literally no sense of direction.”

You don't even register the teasing, eyes going distant as you recall stars around eyes and flowers weaved in hair. You smile, feeling your face warm up, leaning back against the headrest.

“I found a nymph.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @minhui896 ,, @bunnyiix ,, @slytherinshua ,, @haowrld ,, @belladaises ,, @moonlitskiiies ,, @cinnamoroxie ,, @butiluvu ,, @wonranghaeee ,, @zozojella ,, @kawennote09 ,, @thedensworld ,, @a-wandering-stay ,, @abibliolife ,, @doublasting