#I never noticed they slide a little after landing in this anim it's such a cool detail

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

☆ Silver's Sinful Sunday ☆

Week Four: Azriel

Warnings: 18+ [MDNI], enemies with benefits (mates), fem reader, choking, p in v, reader is kinda a brat, dominant Azriel, no use of Y/N, pet names, slight angst at the end, it's my writing — that's a warning within itself (cringe), all actions are with consent ofc

A/N— Week four was originally Vox (Hazbin Hotel). Refer to this post for the reason why it's not. Azriel was intended to be week five, but he's been moved to week four. The style for this one is also a little different than the others. . . Oopsies. . . Your honor, they're actually in love with each other but they're idiots. . .

Word Count: 2.8K

“Let me in.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine despite the massive argument the two of you had been in less than an hour ago. It was over something so petty that you didn't even remember what it was about, but you were still heated over it.

The anger simmered just beneath the surface, a feeling only he could evoke. It both drove you wild and pissed you off at the exact same time. 

“I know you're in there. Let me in.”

After every argument, Azriel found his way to your door. After every argument, it always ended the same way. There were never apologies. Apologies didn't exist between the two of you. The thought of one alone was highly amusing.

You reached the door with a scowl, twisting the brassy colored knob in your firm grasp. The door swung open, revealing the very male you knew it'd be.

His gaze roamed unabashedly over your form. From your hair to the silken midnight blue nightgown that hugged your curves in all the right places, all the way to the soft glow of your skin in the warm light of your bedroom.

“What?” You hissed, eyes narrowing.

He hummed approvingly, noting how you were still heated from the argument. “Are you going to let me in, or just glare at me?” His voice was deep and raspy, telling you everything you needed to know. The reason why he'd come, just like the other times.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, turning on your heel to return to your vanity. The door was left wide open; Azriel stepped in, shutting and locking the door behind him, watching closely as you walked away from him.

“Do you have any idea how mad you made me out there?” Azriel asked as he walked towards you, his steps quick, but quiet. His body moved with ease, like a prowling animal, every muscle rippling with every step.

“You started it. You pissed me off.” You sharply bit back, stopping in front of the mirror to take off the last remnants of the lipstick that Mor had wanted you to try because she thought it would look good on you. She was right, as usual.

He came up behind you, his large frame towering over you in the mirror. Azriel's hands landed on your hips, pinning you against the vanity in front of you. His hard chest pressed against your back, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear. “I may have started it, but you don't know when to shut your little mouth.”

"I thought you liked my mouth wide open." You snapped with a small, barely noticeable rumble of a growl, glaring at him in the mirror as he pressed against you. 

He chuckled and he slid his large hand up your body, gently wrapping his fingers around your throat, his hand almost covering your entire neck.

"I do. But I also like it when you're a good little princess and shut up and listen. I like it when you're good for me." He moved his other hand, letting it run over your thigh.

He moved his lips over your neck, letting his tongue trail over your sensitive skin, feeling your pulse in his hand. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before you open that pretty mouth of yours to say something you'll know will piss me off, hm?"

His hand on your thigh moved higher, letting his hand slide under the fabric of your nightgown, running his hand over the smooth skin of your hip.

“Don't act like you don't fucking love it.” You growled, fighting the urge to react to his touch. He didn't deserve to see you melt into his touch. Ha. No.

A dark chuckle fell from his lips, his breath warm on your skin. “You're right. It makes it more fun when I shut you up. . . I like it when you can't hide how much you want me.” His teeth grazed your neck. 

“Go fuck yourself.”

A low chuckle came from him again, he didn't expect anything different from you. You were stubborn and defiant. But he liked it, loved it even. You were the only one who dared to talk back to him, to fight and argue with him. It drove him crazy.

"Such a filthy little mouth." His hand fell from your throat and he spun you around to face him, lifting you up, sitting you on the vanity and standing in between your thighs.

His hands ran up your thighs, his hands disappearing under the fabric of your nightgown, gripping your hips and tugging you closer against his front. He moved his lips to your ear again, his chest now pressed up against yours as his breathing quickened.

"You know, for someone who was so angry a moment ago, you seem to be enjoying my touch now. Your breathing, the way your heart is racing, the way your legs are opened wide for me.”

You growled at the clear smugness in his tone, your eyes narrowing into a glare once the brief shock from his quick movements wore away.

"You know, your little growl sounds more like a moan to me, love." He grabbed your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he stepped forward, pressing his hips against yours so you could feel how hard he already was. His mouth moved down your neck again, gently nipping and sucking your skin.

"You can stay defiant, but your body is telling a different story.”

Your slender fingers gripped the collar of his clothes and forced him to look at you as your legs locked around his waist, pulling him closer. "Stop. Playing. Games. Azriel." You snarled.

He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him as he stared down at you with his darkened gaze. He leaned close, his lips hovering just inches away from yours. "Why don't you just admit you want me, princess?” 

"Maybe I should just go ask Cassian if he'd want to —”

The moment you mention Cassian's name, something snapped inside of him. His grip on you tightened, and he let out a low possessive growl. His hand slid up, wrapping around your neck. "Not. A. Chance. He's not allowed anywhere near you, do you understand me?”

"It seems I've struck a nerve." You spat, a dark grin spreading across your face as you stared up at him.

He let out a low growl, his grip on your throat tightening a bit more. "Cassian won't be able to give you what you need, sweetheart. I know how much you want me right now, and deep down, you know you can't deny it. You're mine."

His hips ground against yours, making you feel the further evidence of how much he wanted you. "You're mine, princess. Say it.”

“Choke.” You muttered darkly.

His hand tightened around your throat, constricting it in a way that had you releasing a soft moan despite the glare set on your face.

He chuckled again, watching that expression on your face. "I can tell how much you want this." His voice was low and gravelly against your ear. His hips continued to grind against yours, putting just the right amount of pressure where you wanted it.

You groaned, which turned into an almost embarrassingly needy moan very quickly. You glared harder, hating the way he reduced you to a writhing mess so easily. . . Knowing what was imminent, you reached down and began unlacing his pants at a tantalizing slow pace.

The fabric came loose in your grasp and he immediately shed them, along with his underwear, tossing them somewhere in the room before he slid a hand back under the hem of your nightgown, expecting to meet the lace fabric of your panties. He let out a low growl when, instead of fabric, his hand immediately met your slick folds. 

You gasped softly as he ran a finger through them before gently thrusting two fingers into you, while his thumb rubbed gently on your clit, his other hand finding its way back to your throat as if it was magnetic. 

He moved his hand in a steady rhythm, listening to the sweet sounds you tried and failed to stifle. 

“You're so desperate for me, aren't you? You need me, don't you?” 

You could only moan softly as his fingers curled deliciously within you.

“Say it. Say you need me. Say you're mine.” 

"Yours." You gasped out a moan. "I'm all yours — GODS, I need you, Az. . ."

He loved hearing those words from you, loved hearing you admit how much you needed him. . . Loved seeing you completely surrendering yourself to him. "Good girl. That's it, princess. I'm the only one who can make you feel like this.”

He dipped his head down, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin on your neck, as his hand continued to move in that steady rhythm between your thighs. "You're all mine, princess. No one else gets to touch you, to make you needy and desperate for release like this. Say it. Tell me you're mine.”

"I'm yours." You moaned, your hips bucking slightly, seeking more friction than what he was giving you. 

You hated how in control he was.

You hated the way his fingers alone made the heat within you build, threatening to snap.

You hated the way you didn't really hate any of it.

He grinned as he continued to leave marks on your neck, moving down to your chest. "Louder, princess. I want you to say it, louder. I want you to admit how much you need me." His hand between your legs moved faster, applying more pressure, knowing it will drive you crazy.

You let out a loud, needy moan. "Need you so bad, Az. . . So bad. . . Please. . !" You gasped.

You needed him. You hated how much you needed him, but at the end of the day, the two of you were mates, destined to be, and maybe, just maybe, the harsh words exchanged could turn into soft, reassuring words. . . Unlikely, but possible. . . Maybe. 

"Good girl. That's it, princess. I like it when you're needy like this. I love knowing that you're all mine. I love hearing you begging for me." He says against your chest, his mouth moving down to one of your sensitive mounds. He continued to suck and lick, his hand between your legs still moving steadily, but he could feel how eager you were, how impatient you were getting. "Be a good girl for me, princess. Tell me what you want. You need to ask for it.”

“Fuck me, Az. . . Please. . .”

He chuckled, a low, possessive growl coming from his chest. There was an intense look on his face as he slowly moved his hands away from their placements — stealing his fingers away from your core before you could come around them —  gently grabbing you by the hips and pulling you forward off the vanity. With ease, he pushed you up against the wall next to the mirror, pressing himself against you.

He moved his hips forward, letting you feel how hard you made him, letting you feel how much he'd been wanting you. "I'm going to make you remember who you belong to. Who you've always belonged to." He looked into your eyes, his expression full of desire and possession, a hint of a smirk on his face.

You glared slightly but gasped softly as he pressed forward, entering you inch by inch. 

He let his mouth roam over your neck again, moving down to the top of your chest, gently nipping and sucking on the skin, leaving marks that would be visible in the morning. His hands stayed firmly on your hips, keeping you in place as he slowly moved in and out of you.

"You're mine, princess. You're mine, not only in this room, but out there too. Everyone needs to know who you belong to.”

"Fuck you." You ground out, fighting back a moan at how he was making you feel. But the moan spilled out anyway.

He grinned against your skin, knowing he was getting to you. "That's it, princess. You can try and be defiant, but you'll eventually break. You'll break for me, like you always do. That mouth of yours is always going to end up wide open, just for me, whether you admit it or not." He moved his head up, looking into your eyes, his intense stare holding you captive.

You moaned as he hit a certain spot before growling and capturing his lips in a fiery, lustful kiss. It was new territory, but something within you told you to do it. . . Perhaps it was that taunting golden string tethering your souls together. . . Or maybe you just wanted him to shut the fuck up.

He quickly took control of the kiss, pushing your head up against the wall as he dominated you. His hips moved harder and faster against yours, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room, combining with the sound of your and his moans.

"You're mine, princess. No one else can make you feel like this.”

You knew without a doubt in your mind that he was right. No one could. No one would.

He couldn't take his eyes off of you, watching your face twist into ecstasy and pleasure, hearing your moans and sounds fill the room. He loved how shamelessly you gave yourself over to him, how you couldn't fight it, no matter how much you'd tried before. He loved how you were his.

He moved his hands from your hips, one gripping your neck again, his fingers lightly closing around your throat, the other moving to your thigh, hitching your leg up over his hip, giving him a deeper angle to work with.

Your eyes rolled back as you moaned louder. Gods, he knew your body far too well. Your desires. Just the right way to push your buttons — just the right angle to thrust mercilessly into you. 

He loved the sound of your moans, the way your body was responding to him, the way your eyes rolled back when he pushed you right to the edge. He knew you better than anyone else, and he loved that he had this power over you, that you willingly gave into that power, even if you didn't like it a few minutes ago. He knew you needed this, just as much as he needed you. 

He leaned forward, whispering against your ear, his voice low and gruff. "You're mine... say it. I want to hear you say it, princess.”

"Shut up." You moaned out with a slight groan.

He chuckled against your skin. You could always try to resist him, but you'd never be able to win. He loved how stubborn you were, but he also loved being able to take that stubbornness away from you, to make you completely surrender to him.

"You just can't help defying me, can you, princess? But then again, I know exactly how to set you straight, don't I?" He tightened the grip around your neck, his fingers pressing against your pulse point, knowing how wild it would make you. 

"Fuck — I'm yours." You moaned pathetically. "I fucking hate you, but I'm yours. . .”

"That's right, princess. You're mine. Now, and always. You can hate me and fight me all you want, but deep down, you know that you belong with me..” He continued to move against you, faster and harder, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

He moved his hand down, his thumb gently tracing slow circles against your clit, adding even more sensation and pleasure. 

You knew he could tell you were close. He always could. The way your breath caught. The way you subtly met his thrusts. The way you clenched around him so sinfully and your eyes fluttered closed.

"Give in, princess. Let yourself go. Let yourself feel all of this.”

Then pleasure crashed into you as the steadily growing, hot coil snapped and you fell over the edge right into an orgasm, your breathing heavy as you slowly began coming down from the high.

Seeing you completely lose yourself sent him over the edge, his release intense and powerful, his body going taut as he let himself go inside you, his forehead falling against yours as he leaned against you, trying to catch his breath.

He took a few moments to regain his bearings, his body still pressed up against yours as his hands gently held your hips, still holding you in place.

There was some part of you that wanted to ask him to stay, but as he slowly separated the two of you, setting your feet back on the smooth hardwood floor with shaky legs, before going to locate his clothes that he had hastily discarded in the heat of the moment, you knew this was how it was. 

He dressed, sparing a quick glance back at you before leaving your room. Wordlessly. Leaving you with his cum slowly spilling out of you. . . You also knew that you'd have to start another argument with him tomorrow. . . Just so you could have him close again.

Because even you knew that you didn't truly hate him.

[jenoroyals]

It Started With A Kiss - Park Sunghoon

(based off Japanese anime & drama Mischievous Kiss)

pairing : park sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis : A shooting star destroys your home, forcing you and your father to move in with his old friend. Little did you know, Park Sunghoon, the guy who you'be been in love with for years, also lives there. How are you going to live under one roof with the boy that rejected you just days ago?

word count : 630 words

content/warnings : angst, sunghoon is MAJOR red flag, yn is ditzy and kind of stupid (in a cute way kind of), MAJOR second hand embarrassment, more to be added

featuring : ryujin (itzy), lia (itzy), jisung (nct), wonyoung (ive - later on), isa (stayc - later on)

PROLOGUE

Scribbling down random notes in your notebook, you notice they all say one thing, Mrs. Park y/n. It was already past sunset and he was still running through your mind. A lady’s voice comes from the radio, “When you see a shooting star, make a wish and your wish will come true.” 

You quickly rush to open your curtains and walk out onto the balcony. Looking up, you see thousands of stars shining throughout the sky. Shining like diamonds, you can’t help but admire them. Never having to deal with endless feelings, all they do is just look pretty. 

As you're admiring the beautiful night, a shooting star passes by. You gasp, remembering the words from the radio, you put your hands together and make a wish.

‘I wish I can tell Sunghoon how I feel about him.’ 

You smile after thinking about the said boy for the 100th time that night. Walking back into your bedroom, you shut the balcony door and jump right into bed. 

-

As the sun starts to rise up, you get up out of bed and start to get ready. Sliding the skirt over your waist and buttoning up your shirt, you slide your hands against the clothes, smoothing them out. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you smile brightly. 

Your dad always said not to dress up so pretty for boys, but instead for yourself. But you couldn’t help it. You were going to be talking to Sunghoon for the first time in your life. Of course you wanted to look your best. 

Once you arrive at school, you’re instantly running around the high school looking for Sunghoon. Other students have already started gathering at the school, yet there was no sign of him. 

Finally, you see him walking towards the entrance, alone. You smoothed over your uniform for the thousandth time that morning and let out a deep exhale while receding your letter in your head. 

“Dear Park Sunghoon, 

Nice to meet you Sunghoon. My name is l/n y/n, I’m in Class F. You don't know me, but I know you. Since you made a speech at the entrance ceremony two years ago, I have been admiring your intelligence and handsome face. 

There is no way that I can be in the same class as you, this is why I am writing this letter to you. When I first saw you, I felt like I was hit by a shooting star. I started to have special feelings for you.”

You slowly start walking towards him with a smile on your face. “Excuse me.” You say facing him. He gives you a stern look with a blank expression and answers, “Who are you?” 

You take a breath again before continuing, “I’m l/n y/n from Class F. Could you please read this?” You hold out the letter with both of your hands and smile, waiting for him to take the letter. 

He stares down at the letter and then looks back up to you. Your smile widens but it quickly falls when you hear his answer. 

 “I don’t want it.” He states while walking away, not sparing you another glance. You’re standing there frozen with students passing by and staring at you. 

Your body felt stuck. As much as you wanted to move as not to get more embarrassed your body wouldn't let you. The wind picks up and blows the letter out of your hand, but you’re in so much shock that you can’t even comprehend to go look for it.

As the letter sweeps through the air, it finally lands right in front of Sunghoon who steps on it accidentally, but he doesn’t bother to look back. He keeps his head up and continues walking to his class.

[sentientcave]

Masquerade

You've come to this masquerade ball to finally dispatch the man you've wanted dead for nearly ten years, but he's always ruining your plans, one way or another.

Contains: 2nd POV OC (sorry about all the blushing), werewolf MMC (sadly he doesn't do any fun werewolfy things he's just a guy with sharp teeth here), vague fantasy setting, murder attempts/reminiscence of murder attempts, a long and storied history only alluded to, what do you do when your bitter enemy turns out to be a silly little guy who just wants you to love him?, oral sex (w receiving), P in V sex, this spawned a whole ass novel and it's so so different but this lowkey holds up.

See end for Notes

~10k words - NSFW - 18+ MDNI

“My, don’t you look exquisite,” a voice purrs in your ear.

You freeze in place, glad that the mask hides the colour that springs to your cheeks. You feel like a naughty child caught with your hand in the cookie jar, an unwelcome guest at his masquerade. You thought you could escape notice, slip through the crowd of finely dressed nobles and plunge your knife into his chest at last. But he had managed to find you first. You weren’t ready. You hadn’t been to the garden to pick up your hidden cache of weapons, you had nothing but your silver hair-stick to dispatch him with.

His heavy hands land on your shoulders. “Don’t muss up your pretty hairstyle just yet, darling,” he whispers in your ear, his voice rasping like sandpaper. It’s as if he can read your thoughts. Or perhaps, after all these years, you’re simply predictable. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

You flinch at the cold press of his mask against your bare shoulder. You shouldn’t have disguised yourself as a guest. You feel defenceless, wrapped in silk and sheer chiffon, a neat little morsel delivered straight into the wolf’s jaws. He could shift in a second and shred you into little pieces, like he had threatened to do so many times before. You try to still your frightened, thumping heart, and pull away, turning to face him at last. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you mean,” you say, because it’s worth a try at least, but he’s laughing before you can even finish, the smiling mouth of his gold wolf mask mocking you. His yellow eyes glitter from it’s depths, watching you.

“Oh darling, I would recognize you anywhere. I hoped you would be unable to resist my invitation.”

“Your invitation?”

“Yes, dearest. All of this was for you. I knew you could not resist the chance to get so close to me again.”

“To kill you,” you remind him hoarsely.

He chuckles and takes your hand. “Perhaps. For now, a dance, I should think. You haven’t danced all night.”

You dig in your heels, trying to resist his insistent pull, but he simply wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you closer. “I don’t dance,” you tell him sharply. “Let go of me.”

“You’re a liar,” he replies, spinning you into place, one hand on your lower back, pinning you against his chest, and the other still clasped around your wrist, sliding up to engulf your hand. He simply tugs you along with him as he moves, sweeping you along to the music, holding you so unbearably close. He could lift you off your feet with ease, if he chose to, and you don’t have enough power to resist. His scent clouds your mind, cedar soap and clean, animal musk, one of many hints of the wolf that dog him even in his human shape. “You forget, I knew you in your past life. Or have you forgotten that I once sat in your father’s halls? I have seen you dance.”

It was so long ago now, another life, before he was only the wolf to you, and before you were the thorn in his paw, that you almost had forgotten. You had hardly given him a second thought at first, he was just another visiting knight, here one day and gone the next, handsome, but beyond the concerns of the girl you once were. “You failed to make an impression,” you tell him sharply, although it’s not true. You do remember his yellow eyes watching you one night, though he never asked you to to dance. He never spoke to you at all.

Not until after. He saved you, of course, from the bloodbath, because he had claimed you. He hadn’t so much as said a word to you before he burst into your bedchamber, monstrous jaws dripping with your fathers blood, yellow eyes wild. You still remembered beating him back with the fire-place’s iron poker, and jamming the tip into his chest before you ran for your life.

“I knew you were mine from the first,” he continues. He seems frighteningly aware of your thoughts, as if his own version of the memory is playing out behind his own eyes. “My lioness, avenging her wicked father with a poker. I still bear your mark, just above my heart.” He presses your entwined hands to his chest for a moment. “I’m certain you remember that, at least.”

“Unfortunately.”

“The only unfortunate part,” he says patiently. “Is that I did not take you as my mate that night.”

His words lance through you like lightning, burning everything in their path. Your knees nearly buckle, and if he were not holding you so securely, you would sink to the floor in a useless puddle of silk. How dare he make you weak, after everything he’s done to you? But anger gives you strength, reinforces your spine with steel, and you wrench away, glaring at him, wishing you could set him ablaze with your eyes.

The music falters. You look up, at the musicians gallery, then around the room. Everyone watches, pretending not to, jewelled masks concealing furtive eyes and whispered words. Your own mask feels insufficient, lightweight and flimsy under the wolf’s eyes when your eyes return to him. He takes your arm, his grip tight, but not bruising, and guides you out of the ballroom, into the cold night air. The dark gardens are just a little too far for you to jump down from the wide stone balcony, and there are no stairs leading down. If you jump, you’d probably break your leg, and then you’d be helpless.

“What do you think of our home?” he asks. “Have you snooped around yet, my darling? Planned all your exits and hidden away your weapons and armour? I made sure you’d have plenty of opportunity. I know how you love to prepare.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t found them already.”

“I have been busy with other preparations,” he says mildly. “But I thought I smelled something of you in the corridor by the library.”

You flinch, only confirming that you had in fact been there, hiding your leather armour inside a large vase. “Preparations for what?”

“Your homecoming. The king has made it clear that it’s time to reign you in, or he will have someone else deal with you.” He pulls the mask off at last, setting the golden wolf on the balcony. Sweat glimmers at his temples, catching light from the ballroom behind them. He offers you a wry smile, his sharp white teeth flashing. “I’ve been too lenient with you.”

“Lenient?” you ask, incredulous. “I’ve been trying to kill you.”

“Those who attempt such things do not usually live long,” he reminds you. “I don’t often show mercy. I’ve allowed you to live free, in the hopes that you would come to me willingly, in time. Now it seems I can no longer afford to continue our little game. You will stay with me, or someone else will be sent to arrest or kill you.”

You press your palms into the smooth railing, wishing desperately that you could absorb the cool, dependable steadiness of stone through your skin. You look at him for a moment while he stares out over the dark gardens, his yellow eyes tracking movement you can’t see.

He’s always dressed in black, like a man in mourning, his black curls cropped short around his slightly pointed ears, beard neatly trimmed. He wears little jewellery for a man of his station, just the yellow-gold signet ring with it’s heavy, dark blue sapphire on his finger, and the gleam of jet buttons down the front of his tunic. You were more used to seeing him in his armour. The heavy black plate suits his brutality better than black-embroidered silk.

Silk offers no protection, no shield over his wicked black heart.

You pull the hairpin from your own neatly arranged curls and move fast, striking at his chest, but he catches your hand easily, his amber eyes meeting your fury with amusement. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” he asks. “Stubborn creature.”

He plucks the pin from your hand and spins you around, pushing you into the railing with the oppressive weight of his presence. Your protests are weak and hardly noticed, but you fall silent when you feel the rough pads of his fingertips on the back of your neck. He gathers your hair up and pins it back in place, not as neatly as you had done earlier, but sufficiently.

“What are you doing?” you ask numbly.

He turns you around, still standing far too close. You stare forward, at the point where his skin meets the collar of his tunic, your eyes glued to his pulse. You wish for teeth as sharp as his own, so you could tear out his throat. His fingers curl under your chin, nudging your face up, forcing you to look him in the eye again. “Just returning your pin,” he says, smirking. “Why do you seem so flustered, darling?”

“Why don’t you just kill me?” you ask. Your hand lifts up to knock his away, but you touch him instead, fingertips ghosting over his knuckles. You know he’s capable of crushing you with hardly a thought. You’ve spent the last ten years learning all you could about him, hunting him down again and again and again with a single-minded determination. He likely could have killed you a thousand times over, if you’d been just a little less careful, or he a little less eager to capture you instead. He should have killed you. You don’t know how to stop anymore, you don’t know how to let go of the terrible anger that burns you up every time you think of him. You want him to suffer, to lose everything, to hurt the way he hurt you. “I’ll never stop.”

There is a flicker of sadness in his eyes, and it pings against your heart uncomfortably. “I never could,” he says, all traces of his smirking, superior air gone. His thumb strokes along your jaw. “I begged the king for your life. Your father may have been a traitor, but you were an innocent girl, and I do not enjoy killing innocents.”

“I’m not innocent anymore.”

“No, I suppose not. But you’ve committed no crimes that I cannot forgive.”

“I don’t want your forgiveness.” Your voice is hardly more than a hoarse whisper. You want to shout, but his hand on your skin seems to leech all the power out of you.

“You have it regardless,” he whispers back, low and intimate as a lover. He touches his forehead to your mask, his eyes boring into yours, twin suns scorching everything in their path. “And someday I will earn yours.”

“Never,” you hiss. You return to your senses and push his hands away, shoving hard against his chest. “I hate you. I’ll always hate you.”

He tugs your mask off and tosses it to the side, tired of pretense. “If you hate me so much, why does your heart beat like that?”

“I’m afraid of you,” you snap.

He laughs harshly. “No you’re not. You’ve never been afraid of anything, my darling. It is one of the things I love best about you.” He leans in closer, the tip of his nose just brushing yours. You can feel his breath on your skin, the sharp smells of whiskey and mint setting your nerves on edge. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you, and you freeze, heart pounding, face turned towards him, waiting for the axe to fall.

But he withdraws instead, leaving you to face the consequence of unrealized want. His words prick at you like the point of a sword. Love. As if he would know the first thing about it. As if he knew you.

But he does know you, you realize with a start. He made you. His actions had set you on your path, and his choice not to kill you, each time that he should have, had created the determined, single-minded, furious woman that you had become. The carefree girl who you had been was long gone, dead the first time the wolf’s jaws closed around your throat. It burns you to think that he’d shown you mercy all along, that you had escaped capture or death by his leave, rather than by your own cunning and skill.

His eyes remain on your face, reading your thoughts like you’re a book laying open, waiting for him to happen by and discover all your secrets. “You have become worthy of me,” he continues ardently, pressing your hand to his chest again, anchoring it with both of his own. “I would have kept you like a bird in a cage if I’d taken you then. A pretty thing to amuse me and adorn my halls. But you are no trophy, my love. You will not survive in captivity. Even now, with the king’s sword hanging over your head, I will not force you to stay.”

“Is this some sort of trick?”

“I used to wonder the same thing. A cruel trick of fate, that my mate would hate me so fiercely.”

“You killed my father,” you hiss at him. You yank your hand away, desperately stoking the anger that has kept him at bay all these years. Each time he calls you mate and darling and love your resolve quakes, and you have no sword in your hand to make him regret it, like you usually would.

“He was a traitor. I had orders.”

“And what comfort will that be when your orders are to kill me?” you ask, sneering up at him. “What will you do when your orders are explicit and undeniable, and you are to kill me on sight?”

“I’ll never see you again.”

You aren’t sure what you expected, exactly, but it always trips you up when he speaks plainly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap.

“What do you think it means?” He hurls the words back at you, his anger lighting from your own. “It means I would pluck my own eyes out before I’d kill you. If the king ordered me to hunt you down I’d stay one step behind you until we reached the very ends of the earth. If he came outside this very moment and told me to snap your neck—” He shudders, shaking his head like a dog shakes off the rain, and when he looks back at you the anger is gone, hidden away again behind his steely resolve. “Loyalty only goes so far. He knows not to make an order I cannot follow. If he truly wants you dead, he’ll ask another.” He glances over his shoulder, keen yellow eyes fixing on a point somewhere inside. “I hope it does not come to even that.”

“But why?”

He lets go of your shoulders and turns around, stalks a few feet away, and turns again, pushing both of his hands through his hair in frustration. Because I love you!” he snarls. “You had me the first day you tried to run me through. Oh I wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, beautiful thing that you are, but it was the first moment that you tried to cut my heart out that I knew there could be no other. You have no idea what it’s like, to love such a stubborn, foolish, bitch of a woman? Do you understand what it will do to me, when you leave? But I have never been able to keep you by force.”

“But you let me go,” you say numbly. “You said—”

“Let you go?” He laughs, striding back towards you. “Oh my love, you misunderstand. Just because I couldn’t kill you does not mean I didn’t try to keep you. But you have slipped every chain I’ve placed upon you. I’ve never pulled my punches. I would not disrespect you so.”

“You called it a game—”

He inclines his head towards you. “I did. Perhaps I should not have. But it was easier to think of it as a game. A test of my own worthiness. I admit, I have always looked forward to your attempts on my life. It’s good, I think, for a man to be beaten once in a while, to keep him sharp. Otherwise he forgets to be vigilant.” He sighs, touching the edge of an old, silvery scar on your shoulder, brushing a loose strand of your hair out of the way. “Besides. We’ve both made our marks upon the other.”

“I’ve gotten you more times than you have me,” you say, lifting your chin imperiously. “Two or three times I really thought I’d finished you off.”

“Are you so certain of that?”

You think about it. “Yes.”

“Care to make a wager, dearest? If you’ve left more marks on me than I on you, you may ask anything of me.”

You draw in a steady breath. “And if I lose?”

He grins. “Not so confident now, are you? I only want what is freely given, so you needn’t worry. You can name your own penalty.”

“How magnanimous.”

“I can be,” he says. “Now, shall we inspect each other here, or would you prefer somewhere more private?”

The thought of being alone with the wolf makes you shiver, but it’s not revulsion that you feel, it’s something far worse. The dark, cold balcony seems a world away from the golden ballroom with all it’s legions of beautiful, elegant guests, but it’s only panes of glass that separates you from them, hazy from condensation, opaque enough that you doubt anyone can see through them. It makes no material difference, in the end, but it’s winter, and the cold seeps through your dress easily, your skin only warm where he touches you. “Ah, yes,” you say nervously. “Perhaps somewhere more private.”

“And warmer,” he adds. “As stunning as you look, I do not believe you are dressed for the weather.”

As if on cue, a snowflake descends from the dark sky. You reach out your hand, catching it against your palm. A moment later, the sky is thick with snow, fat, fluffy flakes catching the light and turning the world white. You look back at him. He looks softer, somehow, with that little dusting of snow catching in his thick curls, melting flakes glittering like diamonds on his shoulders. For the first time, you’re struck by how young he looks. He was a man grown at your first meeting, and you had always thought of him as much older, but you know now that he couldn’t be ten years your senior. You suspect it’s much less than that.

It changes something in your perception of him. Softens him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, stepping in close again. Although you’ve hardly moved an inch since you came out to the balcony, he’s full of restless energy, moving away and back again like he’s tethered to you by some invisible string. He tilts his head to the side, his keen predator eyes practically glowing in the soft light.

You were glad your face was already flushed from the cold. “I was just thinking. You look so…” You trail off, thinking of the best way to phrase it.

“Handsome?” he suggested. “Strong? Irresistible?” He wiggles his thick black eyebrows, grinning wickedly, making you laugh despite yourself.

“I was going to say young, actually,” you say. “I was wondering what sort of boy you were.”

He holds a hand out to you. “I’m sure there’s a portrait somewhere, if you’re curious. Now come along, pet, I don’t want you catching a cold out here. I do have a wager to win.”

You hesitate. All the ancient, bitter anger and sadness wars with something new in your chest. It’s been so long since you wanted anything more than vengeance. Ages since the last time you felt deep, aching want for someone’s hands on you, if you ever even had. The obsession between you, at least, was mutual, and you had traded the excitement of romance for the thrill of the hunt, the clash of your sword against the wolf’s. His taunting sounded better than flowery poetry to your ears, and you could not help but seek him out every time the loneliness of your new life became too much to bear. He had been your focus, your centre, your reason for existing for so long that you can no longer deny what this is.

Love is not always kind. Between the two of you, it’s become a desperate, wretched thing, living on scraps of attention and hungry looks traded in battle.

His fingers close around yours, and you realize that you’ve reached out and taken the offered hand. You look at him, and he’s smiling in a way you haven’t seen before, half-hitched up on one side, almost shy.

He twines his fingers through yours and leads you back through the ballroom, slipping around the edges of the crowd like the wolf he is. No one seems to pay either of you any mind, although you feel curiously bare without your mask, as visible as a hare in a field to the eyes of a hawk. But your hunter is holding your hand, his thumb stroking over yours soothingly, like he can sense your unease.

Despite that small reassurance, you’re grateful when you step into a nearly empty corridor. A few well-dressed servants carrying trays bustle between the ballroom and the kitchens at the far end, but your wolf leads you the other way, through a few hallways littered with decorative items and portraits of long-dead nobles with eyes that seemed to follow you. You had been there only a few days earlier, but it looks different now. Perhaps it’s that you aren’t on constant guard for the wolf. He’s already here, holding your hand, pretending that he’s not watching you, just as you pretend to look at the portraits and statues and expensive looking vases you pass by, stealing glances at him only when you think you can get away with it.

The silence between you is almost comfortable, both of you too caught up in your individual tumble of thoughts to put anything to words. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. You wonder if he feels like he’s won already, but there’s none of his usual taunting or his infuriatingly handsome smirk. He looks serious, black brows lowered in a sort of pensiveness that you’ve never seen from him. Of course, you had only once gone so long in his company without attacking him physically, and you had been tied to a chair, at the time.

“Do you remember, a few years ago, the hunting lodge just above Lake Pym?” he asks.

You laugh. “I was just thinking about it. Why?”

He stops in front of a door and leans against the frame. “Do you think you’ll be able to go as long without trying to stab me this time around?”

“That depends on whether or not you tie me up again,” you quip back.

“Don’t say such things,” he warns you, opening the door and holding it open, letting go of your hand for the first time in ages. Your fingers feel cold without his touch. “You’ll give me ideas.”

“You’ve made far too many confessions tonight for me to believe that you didn’t already have ideas,” you tease. Funny how easily that comes, like you’re old friends and not enemies. A tidy little fire burns in the stone fireplace, with a cozy arrangement of rugs and furs laid out before it. A low table sits ready, carrying wine and glasses and a few plates of the sort of interesting finger-foods that they had been serving in the ballroom. Raising your eyebrows, you look back over your shoulder at him. He hadn’t spoken to anyone on the way in, which meant that it had been all prearranged.

He closes the door behind himself and leans against it, grinning sheepishly. “I live in hope.”

The room - his room- is neat, a big bed with four posts carved like small trees, green-velvet curtains tied back neatly, is the first sign that he might actually like colour. You imagined him always in sombre black and white, dark hair, white teeth, dressed like the reaper and often so employed. But perhaps he isn’t as stark as you’d always thought. His furniture is solid and well-made of warm-toned wood, and the bookshelves that flank the fireplace are stuffed with books, the odd space cleared out for knick-knacks and trophies. You had never considered that he might like to read. It isn’t something that has ever come up before.

The wolf sits down on the furs and nudges a black lump by the fire. The shape uncurls into the biggest, fattest, blackest cat you’ve ever seen and pads over to you, sniffing your skirts suspiciously.

“You have a cat?” you ask, because it seems unlike the picture you’ve built up of him over the years. Another thing you missed. You had been so focused on him as an enemy that you had hardly stopped to consider him as a man. You sit, and the cat drapes itself across your lap, purring already in anticipation of a good scratch.

“I don’t have a cat,” he corrects you loftily. “Smudge is the matriarch of a proud line of excellent mousers, and she is a valued member of the household. One cannot own a cat, I have learned. One co-habituates with cats.” He leans over and gives the cat a little scratch under the chin, his knuckles just barely brushing your knee as he withdraws. “She isn’t usually very friendly, but she must recognize a fellow assassin when she sees one.”

“I’m not much of an assassin, I’m afraid she’d be terribly disappointed in me. I’ve failed to kill my only target, and I have been at it for quite some time.” You give the cat a scratch behind the ears. “I’m sure her record is much more impressive.”

He frowns and looked at you in a funny way. “Have you never taken a life?”

“I’ve tried very hard to avoid it. You’re the only person I ever wanted dead, and I— I wanted to be better than you. I wanted my hands to stay clean, so I could beat you and still keep my sense of…” You look down at the purring black puddle of fur in your lap rather than at the wolf. “Oh I don’t know. Righteousness, I suppose.”

“So sweet that you wanted me to be your first,” he teases.

You know he means first kill, but you turn pink anyway, and there is no cold wind to blame for your rosy cheeks this time. There were many firsts that you had missed out on, in your bid for vengeance. “Perhaps I still do,” you snap, not thinking about the double meaning until after the words have left your mouth. You scramble to clarify. “My first kill— Not— Ugh.” He begins to laugh, and you cover your face with both hands, wishing the floor would open up beneath you and swallow you whole. “Stop laughing!” Your voice is muffled by your hands, but there is no way that his keen wolf’s ears don’t hear you perfectly. “That’s not what I meant!”

He snorts. “I know, pet. It’s a bit late for that, I should think.”

You peek at him between your fingers, and his eyebrows shoot up.

“Darling.” He leans over and gently takes hold of your wrists, prying your hands away. He is mercifully no longer laughing, but the look in his eyes only makes your face burn hotter. “Please don’t tell me that you’ve never taken a lover.”

“There was never a good time,” you manage to squeak out. It was half true. There had been offers, and moments when you’d been sorely tempted to share someone’s bed for the night, but the few fumbling kisses you’d shared with young men had failed to thrill you the way that crossing swords with the wolf did.

He sits back with a groan. “You’re always throwing wrenches into my plans.”

“How on earth could that have anything to do with your plans?” you ask hotly.

“Darling, don’t be so naive. My plans were obviously to seduce you into my bed so I could out-perform every man who had ever touched you, forcing you to admit to yourself that we belong together. But I suppose that would have been too easy.”

“Too easy!”

“I would never imply that you would be easily seduced, my love, only that I am fairly confident that you would have a harder time denying what we are if I were to employ my considerable athletic ability with the task of making you come undone.” He smiles ruefully. “But seduction isn’t fair if you’re a virgin. I’ll have to win your heart the old fashioned way.”

“The old fashioned way?” You stare at him, incredulous. “What, you’re going to court me?”

“I’m certainly going to try,” he says, turning toward the table to pour you a glass of wine. “It’s the long road, but you’ll find I’m usually more than willing to take the scenic route.”

“You’re insane,” you say weakly, accepting the offered glass. “You must be.”

“Must I be? Like you said, I’ve made far too many confessions tonight, you must know that I do not mean this as some passing fancy. I think it would be a waste to continue this bloody crusade of yours. For both of us. I confess my bias in the matter, as I rather enjoy living.” He shrugs, looking at you over the rim of his own glass. “Do you? Has your life been all you wished for, these past ten years? You’ve forgone comfort, education, friends, romance, children— Do you want none of those things?”

“Of course I do—”

“Then take them. Everything you want is yours if you stay.” He takes a sip of wine and winces, face screwing up like a child tasting something bitter. “Ugh, I hate wine.”

“I know. I was wondering if you were going to drink from that glass you’ve been waving around.”

“I just wanted to indicate that it wasn’t poisoned.” He sets the glass to the side, still grimacing. “Just in case you were wondering if I was still trying to trick you.”

“It had crossed my mind.”

“Perish the thought, my love.” He stretches out in front of the fire, propped up on one elbow. “I’ve laid down my arms. If you must end this once and for all to free yourself, so be it. But I do think my alternative is better.”

You set your wine to the side as well and reach back to pull the silver hair-stick from your curls. You consider it, for a moment, pressing the point into your fingertip, not quite hard enough to draw blood. He watches with an inscrutable expression, making no move to disarm you. The cat slips out of your lap and stretches, moving off into the shadows again, either unaware or uncaring of the danger to her house mate. Or perhaps she’s simply more aware than you that there is no longer any danger.

You reach out and place the make-shift weapon on the rug in front of him.

The crackle of the fire is the only sound for a long moment. The wolf was rarely rendered speechless— getting him to shut up was usually the more difficult task. But he simply looks at you, like you’ve performed a miracle in front of his very eyes.

You slide one of the plates of food off the table and set it on the floor between you, something to hopefully distract his attention a little. You pick up one of the little triangle pastries and take a bite, catching crumbs with your other hand. You eat two more, realizing that you haven’t eaten in hours, and wait for him to break the silence.

He sighs and rolls onto his back, tucking both hands under his head. Firelight dances over his skin, burnishing his features like well-polished bronze. Although you have known him a long time, you’ve never studied him like this, while his eyes are closed and his usual grin is smoothed out into a peaceful smile. He looks noble, like a hero from the epics you used to read as a girl, more like you remembered from the days before everything changed.

“You’re staring,” he says without cracking an eye.

“How would you know? You haven’t opened your eyes in ages.”

“And how would you know that, if you haven’t been staring?”

He has you there. “Alright, fine. I suppose I was. I was just thinking about… about before.”

He opens his eyes. “How long? We do have a rather storied history, don’t we, love? I myself have been thinking of Lake Pym.”

You smirk. “I bet you have. I had a feeling you were rather enjoying yourself.”

“I was. It would have been more fun if you were a more willing guest, or if I at least didn’t have to keep you tied to a chair the whole time.”

“You wouldn’t even let me feed myself,” you lament, though you can’t help the traitorous note of amusement in your voice. “It was terribly humiliating.”

“Revisionist drivel!” he snarls playfully. “I did untie you so you could feed yourself, and you tried to stab me. You forced my hand.”

You blink. “I suppose I did.”

He leans closer. “I suspected you just wanted me to take care of you. You were too proud to ask me for what you wanted, so you forced the situation. And snapped at my fingers the whole time like an absolute menace.” He holds up his right hand and displays a white mark around the first knuckle of his thumb. “That’s one, by the way.”

“I only bit you because you stuck your finger in my mouth,” you reminded him.

“Ah, I suppose I did get a bit carried away, didn’t I? There was just this moment when I touched your lip…” He reaches out as if he wants to repeat the remembered gesture, perhaps hoping for a better outcome, but he hesitates, dropping his hand. You almost wish he hadn’t. “Are you still too proud, my love?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

He senses your weakness. The way the answer drips with doubt like blood from a wound. “Will you let me kiss you?” He moves closer, anticipating your answer before it leaves your lips.

Your breath catches in your throat. “Yes.”

At long last, he closes the distance between you, hands cradling each side of your face. He just barely brushes his lips against yours, and holds you back when you try to chase him, his familiar wolfish smile lighting up his face. “Not so fast, my darling. You’ll have to ask nicely, if you want a proper kiss.” He unbuttons the cuff of his black shirt only a moment later, his eyes dropping away from yours for a moment, and then rolls up his sleeves. “Two and three, respectively,” he says, pointing out two more scars along his forearms. They were both from similar situations. Two times that you had disarmed him and made him bleed for it. You reach out and touch the silvery marks, feeling the smooth gap in his arm hair and the fully repaired muscle underneath the flawed skin. “You’re a better swordsman than I,” he says, reaching up to unlace the top of his tunic. “I might have had the edge of experience, at the beginning, but you quickly caught up to me, didn’t you? It was a good thing you were so scrupled about killing people other than me, or I’d have lost far too many good men to your blade.”

“You’re just trying to flatter me.”

“Is it working?” He pulls the tunic and shirt off in one go, baring his chest. There are a few scars there that you could not claim, and two that you can, although your eyes are drawn to one in particular. The ugly, uneven star right next to his heart, where you had run him through with the iron poker on the night of the wolf. “This one is my favourite,” he tells you, pressing one of your hands to the scar. “The first time you tried to kill me. Jon had to half-heal me himself, or I wouldn’t have made it to a proper healer in time. It’s partially why there’s such a scar. He’s always been terrible at the more subtle magics, but if you want something blown up, Jon’s your man.”

You laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Make sure you also note, in that treacherous little mind of yours, that he will not employ his considerable magical gift with the task of making me explode. He is still rather fond of me, even after all these years.”

“It is good, I think, to have a king that is so well-versed in the art of restraint,” you say mildly.

“Oh yes, I imagine it is.”

“So is it really just the five scars?” you ask. “That’s all?” Despite the truce the two of you had settled into, you felt strangely disappointed that your obsession with killing him over the last decade had resulted in only a handful of scars. It all felt like a waste. You try to console yourself with the knowledge that he heals more rapidly than most men. The scars you have left are despite that.

“There’s one more, on my thigh, but I imagine you probably don’t want me to take my pants off.”

You do want him to take his pants off. “Yes, that’s very thoughtful of you,” you say instead. “I suppose you’ve won, anyway. I have a lot more than six scars from you.” You had expected that his life as a warrior would have marked him more significantly. You’re covered in scars, faded and fresh alike, and there is no getting around the fact that you feel like you’ve stitched yourself up so often that you look as worn down as your oldest, ugliest shirt.

The disappointment in his eyes is gone so quickly that you aren’t entirely sure you hadn’t imagined it. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it, won’t I?”

“You’re just trying to get me out of my dress,” you say hotly.

“Obviously. You look very lovely in it, of course, but I have been hoping for the chance to peel it off of you.”

You shake your head. “I think you’ll be a bit disappointed.”

“Never. What would possibly deter me at this point, darling? If stabbing me through the heart didn’t erode my affections, what could?”

“Oh I don’t know,” you say thoughtfully. “I could have scales, or a tail—”

“I have a tail,” he reminds you. “And I’m quite positive that you’re human, so I’m not worried about scales. Or strange birth-marks or stretch-marks or scars, either, by the way.”

You take a deep breath and stand up, turning your back to him. “It would help if you could undo all these buttons for me,” you say, sweeping your hair in front of your shoulder. “There are so many of them.”

He jumps to his feet and scrambles to help. A few buttons plink to the floor, torn free in his haste. “I’ll have it fixed,” he says hastily. “And I’ll buy you new gowns. As many as you can stand.”

You glance over your shoulder, nervous laughter stilling on your tongue when you see the look in his eyes. You turn forward again, sliding your arms through the sleeves and shimmying the gown to he floor. He gives you a hand to steady yourself as you step free. “I— I don’t want— I won’t stay.”

He hums in response, gathering up the gown and laying it over the back of a chair.

“I won’t,” you repeat yourself, as if the words will sound convincing the second time. They don’t.

“I already told you, darling, I won’t make you stay. It’s up to you.”

He draws you back to your seats in front of the fire, and you offer him your arms. You’re riddled with fine scars, most of them faint, little nicks from his blade. His hands slide up to your shoulder and gently tug the capped sleeve of your chemise to the side, baring the imprint of his jaws. His thumb runs across the marks, his other hand landing on your knee.

“I wondered if I’d bitten you that night.” He moves closer, his tongue moving over his sharp canines as he sighs. His fingers trail down your arm as his touch drops away. “You never turned, so I wasn’t sure.”

“It doesn’t always take,” you say, using his shoulder to help you back up to your feet. “I think it depends on the moon. New moon, that night. If you were any other wolf you never would have shifted.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” He settles back on his heels, looking up at you. “I can’t say I’ve thought about why some bites take and some don’t. I’m not as observant as you, my love.”

Laughable, when his senses are many times greater than your own. It’s not his observations that are the problem, it’s the connecting cause and effect, thinking about consequence for more than a moment. He’s faced so few consequences in his life that it doesn’t come naturally to him. You, on the other hand, are a mess of consequence, action and reaction measured and weighed, failures poured over until you can see every mistake you’ve made, follow the tracks to how things could have been, if you’d done it all just a little differently.

You pull your skirt up so you can untie the ribbon that holds up your stocking, and he slides it down to your ankle. “This one’s only indirectly your fault,” you say, angling your leg so he can see the trail of pocked scars that wrap around your knee and up your thigh. “When I jumped down that ravine. Scraped myself up on the rocks.”

He tuts, hands reaching for these scars too. It’s just an excuse to touch you, certainly, but you make no move to stop him. You just hold your skirt up, giving him unfettered access to your skin. His amber eyes flick up to your face, and he leans forward, pressing his lips to your knee.

There’s no halting the soft “Oh” that falls from your lips, but he would have heard even the softest catch of breath. There’s no hiding from him, and it terrifies you, leaves you so unsteady.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment, his exhale warm against your skin. “You shouldn’t show me any more,” he tells you. “I find myself wanting to kiss every inch of skin you show me, and I worry that you won’t stop me if I try.”

You sink back to his level and pull your stocking back up, tying the ribbon around your thigh again. “Would that be so bad?”

He groans and lays back on the furs, hands neatly folded on his stomach. “I am trying to be a good man for you, darling. You deserve more than I can give in one night. I need at least a few weeks to make you fall hopelessly in love with me before I can do anything that would tempt me to take you to bed.”

You run your palm over his stomach, feeling the soft pelt of hair over his warm skin, letting your curiosity guide your fingertips. You feel the expansion and contraction of muscle as he breathes in and out, tucking one hand under his head so he can watch you more easily, his eyes barely open.

You have to admit, he is handsome, especially relaxed like this. Only a few short hours ago you would have found the idea of him kissing any part of you abhorrent, but now you find yourself similarly compelled. You take his hand and kiss his knuckles, the tips of his fingers, the palm of his hand.

“Come here, you little minx,” he growls, trying to pull you down on top of him. You pull back, and he lets go, still worried about pushing you when you’ve made so many overtures in such a short time.

You had expected him to hold on tightly, however, and overbalance, tipping over the other way with an inelegant little squeak. He laughs as he sits up, and you do too as he helps you back upright. He lays back again, and there’s no resistance when he takes you with him this time. He tucks you into his side, and you look down at him, chin propped on your hand.

“I rescind my earlier statement,” he says.

“Which one?”

“You don’t have to ask nicely for a kiss, darling. I worry that you’re too prideful to admit that you might like one, but if you can steal one whenever the mood strikes you, I might be lucky enough to receive a few impulsive ones that your good sense isn’t fast enough to stop.”

You huff. “Is this your way of asking for another?”

“It’s my way of asking for as many as you might want to give me,” he says. “There is, of course, a standing offer of anything you might like that is within my power to supply. I think it prudent to remind you.”

He’s a ridiculous kind of man. You’d always thought his tendency toward verbosity was just him grandstanding, but now you see it for what it really is. He wants to be understood by you so desperately that each sentence becomes overwrought, less clear for his efforts to imbue each word with meaning. Your own tendency toward blunt, inelegant language is an almost laughable counter. You say little, and hide everything you can, and he reads you plainly. He speaks like a poet, puts everything out in the open, and you misunderstand him on purpose.

Perhaps that’s why you didn’t see this for what it is a long time ago. If you were not so determined to make an enemy of him, perhaps you would have noticed the softness in his eyes, the way he looks at you as though you’re the sunrise and set, like you’re the moon and all the stars in the sky.

You kiss him, before he can open his mouth to speak again. There’s nothing lacklustre about the way your lips slide over his, the way your breath mingles, the way he makes little noises of satisfaction, unable to be quiet even with his tongue flicking over your top lip, encouraging you to open up for him. Angling your head to keep your noses from smushing together, you oblige, letting him lick into your mouth, his arms circling you, holding you tight against his body.

You can't put a name to the feeling that sparks between you, but it's the thing that's been missing from every kiss you've had before.

The heat, the need of it all burns away all that remains of your carefully maintained resolve. He loves you, fool that he is, and you're not sure you could survive without him now. Is that what love is? To mourn even the thought of their absence from you, to cling tightly and never let go? To sink into each other until you're one, two halves of the same whole?

He kisses you until you're breathless, lips swollen from the tug of his sharp teeth, jaw curiously sore from moving in a new way. You pull back first, braced on one arm as you look down on him. He's beautiful, more than human, wild-eyed and fey, but solid and warm beneath you in a way only a man could be. His imperfections make him dearer to you, not just the marks you've drawn on his skin, but the gap between his two front teeth, the way one brow arches a little more than the other, giving him that permanently skeptical look that had always made you feel he was making fun of you. The crooked smile, the notch in one ear.

You know his face more intimately than your own, but you still want to look at him, especially through this new lens.

“I don’t think I want to wait,” you admit. You’ve waited long enough, haven’t you?

“Are you certain?” he asks.

“I don’t see what difference it makes, really.”

“It makes a great deal of difference. I’ve taken enough from you, I don’t want you to regret it.” He gazes up at you, tracing along your jaw with careful touch.

Your heart races rabbit-quick in your chest, and although you're the one looking down at him, you feel pinned in place by the wolf's eyes alone. "Then make sure I don't," you say softly. "I can even promise not to make another attempt on your life until the morning."

"Darling…"

"Please. I don't know how I'll feel tomorrow, but tonight I think I want your hands on me."

"You think?" His fingers catch around the back of your neck, as though he's waiting for some cue before he pulls you back into his arms.

“I know.”

He pulls you down for another kiss, rolling the two of you so his big body stretches over yours, your underskirts bunching up as he slots his thick thigh between yours, pressing against your core. He holds most of his weight off of you, but you’re still trapped beneath him. For the first time in a long while, there is no panic, no desire to fight furiously for freedom. You feel quite content where you are, especially when his thigh flexes, rubbing against you firmly, sending a shower of sparks through your belly. You gasp against his mouth, your hands skimming down his sides gingerly. When he does it again, you dig your fingers into the muscle of his back reflexively, murmuring apologies as his lips leave yours and slide down your bared throat.

“Don’t,” he growls against your pulse, dragging his tongue roughly over your skin. “Don’t apologize. You won’t hurt me.”

His teeth graze the slope of your shoulder, finding the older scar from his lupine jaws. You let out a shuddering gasp when he bites down lightly, not even hard enough to leave a mark. There’s a part of you that wants him to leave a mark, a bruise if not something more permanent, but you’re not sure you’ll be able to convince him out of gentleness tonight.

He kisses down your chest, grinning up at you when he reaches the top edge of your corset. “You are still wearing far too much clothing, my love. Come here.” He stands in a smooth movement, and you’re untethered without the weight of his body against yours, but only for a moment. He helps you to your feet and leads you to the bed, taking a seat on the edge and pulling you between his knees, turning you so he can loosen the laces of your corset.

You shed the garment as soon as you’re able, as well as the extra petticoats. Your chemise is thin, loose material, obscuring little, but you leave it on while you sit beside the wolf, toeing your heeled slippers off and nudging them under the bed and out of the way. Hands folded, you wait, heart beating like a drum. You feel so strange, almost outside your own body, watching him unlace his boots and tug them off impatiently.

He stands to strip off his trousers, and you quickly avert your gaze, looking down at your hands rather than see him in his fully undressed state. You have a rough idea of what you’d find, you’ve been in the public baths more than a few times, and even doing your best to be respectful, it’s hard not to see something. But seeing something in a setting where everyone is minding their own business is a lot different than seeing something up close, especially when you might be expected to do more than just look.

“We don’t have to do this, love,” he says, kneeling in front of you, clasping his hands around yours. Your eyes fly back up, landing on his face. His chuckle makes your cheeks burn. “If you’re nervous—”

“No,” you say quickly. “I want to. I’m just— I hate not knowing what I’m supposed to do.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that darling. It’s your first time, I should think the responsibility rests on my shoulders. All you have to do is tell me when you like something and when you don’t.” He leans forward, forcing your thighs apart to accommodate the bulk of him, and kisses you, all sweetness. “And if you want to stop, we stop. Anything more than that can wait at least until the second or third time.”

It sounds so simple, put like that.

“Besides,” he adds, giving you a wicked grin as his hands move to your hips, the movement rucking your chemise up further on your thighs. “You’ve always been a quick study.”

Well, he’s right about that. His lips find your throat again, pressing languid kisses down your chest until he reaches the edge of your chemise. His eyes flick upwards, seeking permission before he goes further. You untie the simple knot with one hand, the other petting through his soft curls.

He noses aside the thin fabric to find your nipple, latching on with a contented hum. The act sends tremors down into your core, intensifying as his tongue flicks across. You pull in a shuddering breath, and your exhale becomes a whimper when his teeth nip at you, his other hand coming up to grope at your other breast, his touch warm and appreciative before his grip slides down to your hips and he tugs you to the edge of the mattress.

He pulls away from your breast and kisses you properly again. “Do you want more?” he asks. “Can I taste your pretty cunt, darling?”

The desire in his words sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, and he sits back on his heels and kisses all the way up your thigh, although he pauses and pulls back to your other knee, kissing his way up again, this time sinking his teeth into your inner thigh, not hard enough to really hurt, just enough to make you jolt, your pearl begging for any kind of friction. When he passes over your cunt to mouth at your other thigh, you whine, shifting even closer to the edge of the bed. You can feel your cunt dripping, the air strangely cool on your wet skin.

A pair of mischievous eyes glance up at you. He’s doing this on purpose. He started all of this, and now he has the gall to tease you. Glaring in response, you grip him by the hair and pull him in, determined to put his clever mouth to better use than smirking and biting you when you need him elsewhere.

To his credit, he makes no complaint and does what he’s directed, slipping his tongue between your folds, lapping up the slick arousal. His big hands push your thighs up so he can get a better angle, and he kisses your cunt with as much passion as he did your lips, if not more.

The feeling is electric. His mouth scorches, sets you alight in ways you’d never imagined, the occasional scrape of his too sharp teeth against you thrilling. It’s too good, has you fighting his grip even as your fingers are still tightly wound into his hair, holding him close. It’s too much, but if he stopped it would be so much worse.

If he minds your writhing, he doesn’t show it. You can’t help the sounds he pulls from you, but he’s louder, as though this is more for himself than for you. He groans when your hips buck against his mouth, pants when he lifts himself away enough to breathe, his amber eyes gleaming, fixed on your face, except the few times they flutter closed, just for a moment, savouring your taste.

His nose nudges your pearl as his tongue presses inside you. You grip him so tightly to your core, your hips shaking so hard that you’re surprised you don’t break his nose. The hot, molten cataclysm that’s been pooling somewhere behind your belly button overtakes you, sweeping you away, limbs seized, unable to out-swim the current. You can’t see past the stars in your eyes even after your legs relax and you force your hand to unclasp his hair, finger by finger, so you can lay back on the mattress, breathing hard.

He crawls up onto the bed and pulls you toward the centre, a self-satisfied grin on his face. His cock presses into your thigh, insistent for attention, the tip peeking out and leaking against your thigh. He ruts against you when he kisses you again, his close-cropped beard soaked with your arousal. You can taste yourself on his tongue, tangy and bitter-sweet.

You lay twined together, forehead pressed against his as you both catch your breath. One hand gently brushes up and down your spine, the other pulling your leg up over his hip. “How was that?” he asked.

There may not be words for what you feel. Maybe there are, but they’re beyond you right now, washed away with all the resistance in your body. You settle on nice, which makes him laugh.

“Only nice, hm? I suppose I’ll have to work harder.”

“Better than nice,” you assure him. “I— I liked it a lot.” It’s still insufficient, so you kiss him again, hoping he won’t ask any more questions.

He does, after a long moment. “Are you ready for more?”

“There’s more?” you ask. “Or— for you? Do you want me to—”

“No, there’s no need for you to do a thing, love. The next part is for both of us.” He rolls onto his back, taking you with him effortlessly. He reaches past you with one hand while he kisses you sweetly, tongue pushing into your mouth at the same moment you feel his cock slot against your entrance. He pushes in gently, halting when he meets resistance, fucking shallowly into you until you relax enough to let him bury himself deeper into your body.

You tuck your face down against his chest, focusing on the feeling of his cock stretching your cunt, so deep inside you that his presses against your womb. He tries to keep himself still, but his hips buck slightly, tearing a groan from your chest. There’s no stopping the way your cunt squeezes down on him in response, nor the way your hips grind against him. He makes a choked sound, breathing out shakily when you push yourself up to look at him.

The angle change nearly has you collapsing back down, but he takes pity on you and flips you both so he can take the lead. “Hello, pretty thing,” he says, giving you another kiss and a firm grind into you before he starts moving his hips, slowly working himself in and out of your cunt, lips settling against your ear so he could tell you how well you’re taking him, how good you feel around his cock.

Any ability to respond is quickly fucked out of you, your breath punched out with every deep thrust, your world shrinking down to a handful of sensations: his lips on your ear, the weight of his body and the delicious drag of his cock against your inner walls.

He works his hand between you to rub at your pearl, the heel of his hand pressing down on your lower belly. The thought that he can feel himself inside you with your hand is one of the last fully formed ones that cross your mind, because he growls and picks up the pace, unrelenting until you’re shaking and babbling and clinging so tightly to him that you’re certain you’ll leave permanent marks.

He drags you up another precipice and throws you over, his forehead pressed to yours, watching your face as you shake and cry out. He ruts into you, and you can feel him fill your cunt, his cock twitching, rooted firmly inside you. He doesn’t pull away, just throws himself onto his back, holding you tight to his chest.

His heart beats like a drum under your ear, slowing gradually as he catches his breath. His cock slips free, and you stiffen slightly as his spend leaks from your swollen cunt, spilling onto his belly. He pops his head up as soon as you tense, and huffs out a laugh, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Sex can be a bit messy. Come on, love. Let’s get cleaned up.”

Your legs wobble when you try to stand, but he happily slides a supportive arm around your waist, leading you into the adjoining tap room. Once you’re both cleaned up, he coaxes you out of your sweat-soaked chemise and wraps you in one of his shirts and you both sit back down in front of the fire.

You pick up your abandoned wine glass, holding it with both hands as you eye the wolf. He looks content, satiated, like he’s had his fill of you. There’s a little tremor of unease that settles in your belly. Now that the chase is over, will he still want you? Do you still want him to want you? At the beginning of the evening you had been determined to kill him, and now…

He looks back at you through half-closed eyes, and unfurls his arm. “You’re too far away,” he tells you, voice a warm purr. “And you’re thinking too much.”

It’s still unfair, how easily he reads you. An open book, pages left open for him to flip through at his leisure. Despite your trepidation, you walk forward on your knees and sit against him, knees tucked under his arm. His fingertips trail up your thigh, over your knee, down your calf, and back, over and over, as he waits for you to speak.

“What happens now?” you ask at last. “Do we go our separate ways?”

Hurt flashes across his face before he can hide it behind a neutral mask. “If that’s what you want.” His fingers continue retreading their path while silence builds between the two of you. At last, he pulls in a fortifying breath. “Is that what you want?”

There’s raw desire in his eyes, not tempered in the least by your coupling. He offers you everything so easily that it feels like it must be a trick, but he wouldn’t work so hard to hide his feelings if he didn’t care for you, if this were a trap. If you stay, it has to be your choice, not made because of his own want for you to remain by his side.

The anger that kept you warm in all your years out in the cold is gone. Killing him won’t bring your family back from the grave, it would just place another soul in one. The desire for revenge truly burned out a long while ago, and you couldn’t admit that only embers remained. It was why you were so desperate to end it tonight, to close the chapter and look forward to something new.

It’s so like your wolf to ruin your plans. This time, you’re not sure you mind.

“I’d like to stay,” you say at last.

He’s on you so fast that you drop your wine glass, spilling red over the furs. It’s hard to stop laughing enough to kiss him back, trying to point out the mess to him. He growls something about not giving a damn as he gives up trying to kiss you through your smile, and presses his lips to your pulse instead.

In the end, with all the history between the two of you, what’s one more mess?

It's been almost five years since I started writing this short story, and I had fully expected not to finish it. I was caught up in the story in the peripherals, the potential history between Cat and Valter. This scene no longer fits in the overall narrative, even if there are still threads of it that remain unchanged, so I feel like it's safe to share. I'm working on the third draft of The Night of the Wolf, sorting out the mess of my second draft (so many changes it might as well be a second first draft) and I think there's a very real possibility that I can actually finish it, and that's in no small way thanks to all of you. I have been writing for a long time, but it's only been in the past year that I've shared my work with anyone, and it's been a really lovely experience. Thank you for reading my silly fanfictions, thank you for reading this, and I hope to share more bits of original work going forward, if there's any interest. (But don't worry, I'm still gonna finish the fanfictions. I show no signs of stopping yet)

C. T. Cutter

(Also, special thanks to my best human person @dragonnarrative-writes for making me finish this and being so so kind to me about my work and encouraging me always. I am bad at accepting compliments but I appreciate them all the same)

Image Credits: 1 - 2 ~ Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[cringecannon]

hiiiii. imagine astarion hunting you down after you escape

He was gracious enough, thoughtful enough to grant you one last day of mortality. You should’ve been on your hands and knees thanking him for his unending generosity. Instead, in the dead of night, you ran.

What a silly thing you are. Running from a vampire? At night? You’re lucky you’re cute, because your brains leave something to be desired. Besides, everyone knows the last thing an animal caught in a trap should do is struggle.

By the time you reach Wyrm’s Crossing, he’s noticed you’re gone. By Rivington, he’s already on your tail. Once you reach a dark forest he can see your retreating form as it slips between the trees. He holds back for a few minutes, giving you a head start. He likes the chase.

Dark trees loom over you and every shadow looks like him, every light could be his eyes glowing, stalking, waiting for the chance to strike. You don’t stop for even a moment, praying to any god that will listen that the perfect moment will never appear in front of him.

The gods have never been interested in matters relating to Astarion.

Your ankle catches on a vine and you fall painfully, pain shooting up your arm. You landed wrong on your hand, and now it’s bent at a odd angle. You curl in on yourself as you hold in your cries. Not that it matters. Over the sound of blood pumping in your ears you can hear his soft footsteps. It’s on purpose. He could step silently if he wanted to.

Astarion clicks his tongue at you and sighs as he kneels down next to your shivering body, tilting his head in faux-concern. “What have you done now, pet?” He coos. It’s not long before he’s fit himself behind you, cradling your body in his arms with his chin slotted nicely onto your shoulder. It’s all an act. You can feel the tension in his body. When you don’t fall for it, he reverts back to his oldest trick.

He ruts up against you, cold breath fanning out across the expanse of your throat. “You worried me, pet. I knew you’d get hurt if you left, now look at you. I hate to say I told you so, but…” he trails off with a soft kiss against your throat and picks up the pace. One nimble hand finds your chest, and the other slides under your clothes.

You are very suddenly aware of how his teeth are bared against your throat, threatening to penetrate with every thrust of his hips but not quite breaking the skin. He could bite down, he wants to, wants to drink until he’s had his fill and then drink a little more, until you’re cold and pliant and ready to become his spawn. He wants to, and he will, but he can be patient. He waited 200 years for his freedom. He can wait a couple more moments to rob you of yours.

[moonstruckme]

Also would love more of the art student x stem student peter writing,, again totally just self indulgent here but I adore their dynamic I could go on forever, like study dates but she’s working and Peter hangs around revising notes in her studio and they both just accompany each other AGHHH I could think about them for ages

-🍁🤭

Thanks lovely!

tasm!Peter Parker x artist!reader ♡ 727 words

Your hand comes into view, taking Peter’s attention from his notes for the first time in hours as you slide a paper plate stacked with pizza slices towards him. 

“They were out of stir fry,” you say, “but they let me take extra pizza since they felt bad.” 

Peter blinks, realizing his eyes are dry and achy. “When did you get this?”

“Just now,” you say, though it sounds like a question. Your brows twitch towards each other, somewhere between bemused and concerned. “Pete, I’ve been gone for like a half hour. You didn’t notice?”

Peter blinks again, hard. He gives his head a little shake. “No, I, uh…I guess I was too distracted. Thanks for the pizza.” 

“Course.” You kiss the top of his head as you round the table, sitting down across from him with a couple slices of your own. Peter watches as you zone back into your work, a pensive frown coming to your face. You’re in the beginning stages of a new project, and the last few hours have been a frustrating cycle of erasing, sketching, and erasing again. Peter doesn’t get how you can even see through all the faded, half-removed lines on your page. 

“How’s it going?” he asks, tentative.

Your frown worsens. “Not bad,” you say, in a tone that says not great, either. “I’ve landed on an idea, but it just…it doesn’t feel perfect. I don’t want to start and then have to change my mind again.” 

“Didn’t you say that’s how it usually goes?” he prompts. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, and you sound so upset about it that Peter has to—just has to—reach across the table and take your hand. You offer him a small smile and return the squeeze he gives your fingers.

“Want a break?” he asks you, and you raise your eyebrows.

“I just took my break,” you remind him. 

It’s difficult to love someone and see them treat themselves how you treat yourself. Peter would count a run to the dining hall as a break, too, but he doesn’t like it when you do it. Still, that doesn’t give him a lot of ground for argument.

“Then can I see?” he tries, hoping talking it through will make you feel better.

You chew your lip for a second before nodding, going to slide your paper towards him. 

“Nope, hold on.” Peter stands up on his seat, stepping one gangly leg and then the other over the table before lowering himself into the chair beside you. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, hugging you so that your face is squished against his bicep. “Better,” he says. “Go on.” 

You laugh at his over-the-top affection, but don’t move away, going into the details of your original idea versus what you’ve come up with on paper. The abstract always falls short of the concrete, Peter knows that, and yet he feels your disappointment in your inability to fulfill the full scope of your vision acutely. You grow more animated as you talk, eventually bringing the paper closer and sketching while he watches. Peter suggests his own solutions as you work. They’re useless of course, but he knows that having a sounding board helps you think, so he’ll keep the conversation going any way he can. To your credit, you don’t tell him all the ways he’s wrong. You only hmm and huh and then do your idea anyway. 

After a while, you come up with something you’re happier with. It’s still not perfect, but Peter reminds you again of your own tenets; that it never will be, and your only job is to do the best you can with what you have. You’re smiling by now, so it’s a win in his book. 

“You gonna talk me through your biochem notes now?” you ask him cheerily. 

“Aw, sweetheart.” He kisses the side of your head. “You’re a gem for offering, but we both know you’ll get a headache.” 

“I’ll eat my pizza while you talk,” you propose, picking up a now cold slice of your dinner. “C’mon, it’s only fair.” 

Peter grins at you, your face lined with tiredness and hand stained with silver pencil lead but eyes alight with that fizzy energy you get from creation. “Okay,” he concedes. “But when we go home, we’re watching the most mindless show we can find on TV.”

[lovelybucky1]

Insignificant

kinktober day 14- bondage

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT- non con, AFAB!Reader, handcuffs, vaginal reader, finger sucking, rough treatment, 18+ minors DNI

main masterlist

kinktober masterlist

Anakin Skywalker was no longer the man you knew. He was a great warrior, a general, an upstanding person, a kind soul, a Jedi, and most importantly, a friend. He was never meant to be a mechanical killing machine for Darth Sidious to lead around on a leash.

You managed to escape the violence of Order 66, though not without sustaining injuries of your own. For months after the massacre you saw visions of Anakin with orange glowing eyes in your dreams. The screams of children could be heard in the background. You were haunted.

You know some of the other Jedi escaped, though you don't know who or where they went. Being a Jedi is a death sentence these days, so it's better to lay low and not know anything more than absolutely necessary.

Unfortunately, laying low on an outer rim planet where you live off the grid on your own little farm isn't low enough for the Empire. You returned from the forest with a basket of berries and mushrooms to add to your stockpile when you found your house burning, your animals slaughtered, and Darth Vader himself standing among the flames.

After seeing the brutal events of Order 66, you took not being killed on sight as a blessing. The stormtroopers surrounded you, grabbing your arms and forcing you to your knees before Vader. The dark mask was expressionless, but the tilt of his head to the side made you feel like a wounded animal he was about to put down.

"Take them to the ship," he said in a modulated voice. He sounded nothing like the man you knew.

You were hauled aboard the massive ship that they carelessly landed in a field of wild flowers. It was almost poetic how this hunk of machine destroyed something natural and beautiful.

Once the hatch of the ship closed, you accepted that your fate was sealed. You were brought to a cell in the bowels of the ship and abandoned, left with your own thoughts and restricted by force-blocking cuffs.

You were alone for hours until someone came by. You heard the sound of heavy boots banging against the metal grate floor, but it wasn't until you heard the heavy breathing that you turned your attention towards the intruder.

"Jedi," he says as a form of greeting.

You glare at him through the bars of your cell. "Vader."

He says nothing more. He only stands there, emotionless and unmoving. Anakin must have learned patience through his transformation, because the man you knew hated silence.

"Why am I still alive?" you ask. You'd rather be dead than be taken prisoner and be forced to work for the Empire. "You killed all the others. Why not me?"

"He wants you," Vader says crypticly.

"Who does?" you ask.

"Your friend," he says.

Anakin. He's in there somewhere, obviously, and he wants to save you. Maybe this is his way of making up for his atrocities, by making right with you. It could never be enough, but it comforts you to know the monster before you isn't entirely evil.

The door to your cell slides open and Vader steps in, looking like a giant as he towers over your slumped form on the floor. You look up at him but you can't get a read on him. The cuffs block any force sensitivity so you can't even feel him. The door shuts behind him, trapping you in a small box with the face of evil.

"He cares for you," Vader says. "He wants to protect you." It warms your heart in a weird way to hear him say that. "But you are insignificant to me."

Vader reaches down and grabs you by the roots of your hair. He tugs harshly until your scrambling to find your footing and stand so he doesn't rip out your hair.

He dwarfs you. You never noticed how large he was until you were face to face, mere inches apart.

Vader pushes you back roughly, sending you slamming into the wall. Your body crushes your arms that are bound behind your back and you whimper in pain.

"He will watch me destroy you," Vader says as he advances, crowding you against the wall.

He brings his hand down to the waistband of your pants and tugs, effortlessly ripping them off. Your underwear receive the same treatment, though the pull on your skin is painful.

He kicks your legs apart with his boots. The heavy, hard material on your exposed ankles hurts like a bitch, but there's nothing you can do about it other than scream.

Vader shoves his gloved hand between your thighs and carelessly invades your cunt with his thick fingers. You cry out in pain, beg him to stop and for someone to help, but you know it's useless. Everyone here does Vader's bidding, and disobeying their lord is an instant death sentence.

He grows tired of your crying, so he shuts you up by restricting your throat with the force. You have enough air to breathe, but not enough to speak.

You look into the blank helmet with teary eyes, hoping that somehow you can connect with Anakin. You know he's in there, you just have to bring him out.

Vader's fingers split you open painfully. You don't know what he has underneath the suit, but you fear that it will be even worse than the treatment being done to you now. When he pulls his hand away, your creamy juices coat the black glove.

He grabs your jaw and squeezes hard, forcing you to open your mouth. He shoves the wet fingers inside for you to clean, tasting yourself off of them. It's disgusting and degrading, but you're helpless to resist.

When he pulls his fingers out, his glove glistens with your spit. A string of it connects your lip to his glove and when it breaks, it falls against your chin.

Vader drops his hand and you're left staring up at him. The panel of his chest presses against yours uncomfortably, digging into you. You're legs are shaking, not from pleasure but from a mix of fear and the ache in your pussy.

Vader then grabs you by the shoulder and pushes you down, sending you sprawling onto the metal floor. He turns his back to you and the door opens again. Wordlessly, he leaves you alone once again, his heavy boots echoing down the corridor.

[avatarl0v3r]

My People Are Very Dear to me

NeteyamxFem!Metkayina!Reader

Requested:no

Index: Reader is Tisreya’s bestfriend and the readers parents and Tisreya’s parents thought it would be good for Ao’nung and the reader to mate for the clans sake but the reader is in love with Neteyam

(p.s Neteyam doesn’t die) This means talking to the Tulkun

A few months back your parents had a talk with Reya’s and came back and told you that you were to be betroth to Ao’nung you hated the decision you didnt want to mate with someone with there being no love involved you rather mate for love than for your family’s approval or anyone’s for that matter “It’s for your own good Y/n” you we’re getting angry at this point “Why should I have to marry someone that you picked instead of me picking” you raised you voice both your parents sighed “It’s for the people you are a strong warrior with you at Ao’nungs side you will be wonderful leaders” you had given up you loved your people and willing to anything for their well being ‘It’s for the people’ you had to keep telling yourself.

When the Sully family first arrived at Awa’atlu you and Tisreya arrived at the same time since you were already swimming with your ilu’s when you seen the strange animals and the horns signaled someone as arrived which made everyone come to the shoreline.

When you had arrived sliding off your ilu after Tisreya making eye contact with Neteyam once out the water and showing them to where they stayed.

You even helped Reya teach them to breath properly under the water Reya helping Lo’ak you helping Neteyam which eventually turned into a friendship.

Hanging out everyday, him letting you ride his Ikran with him, you taking him to your favorite places.

You were doing your chores like normal when the horn sounded Jake can out the hut seeing what was happing when you ran passed when you herd Tisreya say the Tulkun were back “Y/n” you stopped “Yes?” he looked around “What’s going on” you smiled “The Tulkun are back home,” you looked over and explained quickly “every Metkayina is bonded with a Tulkun which are our Soul sister or brother” you said the smile never leaving your face Neteyam notice and smiled.

Tisreya had found you “There you are come Lula is looking and asking for you” You followed her waving goodbye Neteyam waving back before you landed in the water and same to Lula.

You smiled upon seeing your soul sister “Y/n” “Lula” you said smiling “I met a boy but im not sure what to do because the last time i told you i was betrothed to Ao’nung but i feel nothing towards him and i feel something for the boy i’ve met” You looked down feeling somewhat ashamed knowing your duty to the people "I'd say go with the boy you've met he brings a smile to you face whenever you mention him I would rather see you happy with someone you love rather than miserable with someone just for the sake of the people" you smiled and hugged her and continued talking to her about many other things.

A little bit later Neteyam was on his ilu swimming around everyone looking at all the Tulkun he noticed you talking to your Tulkun Lula and smiling he left you alone with her seeing how happy you were with her and swam and found Kiri and Tuk.

A few months later the Tulkun had to leave due to what was happening, and no one wanted another Tulkun to die and before they left you introduced Neteyam to Lula and Lula to Neteyam which made Lula make her opinion on what you should do even more strong.

The outcast had bonded with Lo'ak and he wanted to warn him you, Reya, Kiri, Tuk, and Neteyam all went with him and found he was marked for death with as much force as possible you got the marker off him "Y/n" you turn to Neteyam looking at him fear in your eyes "Stay close" you got on the ilu with him, and you both swam swiftly through the waters eventually you were caught along with Neteyam, Tuk, and Lo'ak the man told jake that he was to come out alone if he wanted you all back safe.

So many things happened everything was a blur the only thing on your mind was Neteyam bleeding out in front of you due to being shot Lo'ak was applying pressure on the wound "Neteyam please stay with us please" you said franticly hoping you wouldnt lose the boy you've grown to love Jake had some cloth on him and wrapped Neteyam up and told you to get to the village so Ronal could work on him. You called you ilu and got on him with Neteyam holding on to him tightly you got back to the village and had help from other people getting him into a hut.

"Ronal please help him" you begged her tears flooding your eyes "Ill do what i can." Hours semmed to pass until she walked out telling you he's fine but will need time to recover you ran into the room hugging him tightly happy hes alive and still with you "Neteyam please dont do that again."

Neteyam had fully healed within a month to which he was with you again away from the village "Y/n i need to tell you something" you smiled at him "What is it" he put his hand on the back of his neck "I think im in love with you" your eyes widened at this "I do to but if i betray you and just go through with the plan for me to be mated with Ao'nung i betray myself If i betray him... I betray my people my people are very dear to me" he looks at you "Dearer than me and your own happiness?"

"No...no, not dearer than you or my happiness"

Im so sorry for this being all over the place im going to go back a edit it and make changes i’m also not sure why’s it all together like that I also hate the way i wrote it but if you guys want a part two let me know <3

[museumgiftshoperaser]

After the end of the world, Steve takes care of Eddie.

Steve/Eddie | Rated E | Chapter 3 now up on AO3

The first thing he notices is the large hand over his mouth. The second thing is that he’s screaming. Then the pain. God, the pain. Steve is behind him. Flush together. The hand against his face is warm. It’s his rib cage. Taut and spiteful. Quickly closing in. Steve is warm. “We’ve got three more painkillers,” he mumbles against the back of Eddie’s neck. “It’s up to you.” Eddie presses his tongue against the roof of his mouth to stop from making noise. It’s close to futile. Soft whimpering noises escape from his throat without his approval. The pain too, rumbles on without his permission. “Fuck.” He breathes into the tiny hollow between his lips and Steve’s palm. The word sits heavy like a prayer. Make it stop. “Think you can ride this one out?” Steve pulls him in closer. The hand over his mouth presses down a little harder.

There’s another arm under the hollow of his neck. Steve’s knees tuck into place behind Eddie’s thighs. He’s warm. Eddie hums something in between a yes and a no. Let Steve decide for him. Let Steve figure it out. He can’t think like this. His rib cage clenches like a fist and his heart is pounding like it knows. Whoever called it bravery was a liar. Maybe just a lucky son of a bitch. Maybe brave is just a thing to call you to keep you going. To trick you into thinking it’s something you did. “I think you can do it.” He whines against Steve’s hand. A pathetic little noise. The kind pray animals are never supposed to make. His weak underbelly on display under the edges of his bandages. His weakness. Make it stop. “I know you can do it, Eddie.” He drags his mind over to his spine. It’s easier if you don’t run from it. A truth that worked for every tattoo he’s every gotten. Stay with it. Ride it out. Look at the needle as it breaks the skin. Trace the lines. There’s no method to the madness in his spine. “I can’t.” Steve’s hand slides down his face ever so slightly. Still tight. He tilts the knuckles of his forefinger against Eddie’s lips. Presses harder. “Bite.” He doesn’t even think about it. Opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into plush skin. Feels the bone right under the surface. A tiny bit of the tension seeps out, like poison through a set of fangs. The first taste of relief. Steve hums against his neck. Lips on skin. He bites down harder and warm breath grazes the back of his skull. “Fuck.” Eddie doesn’t let go. Steve doesn’t let go. Like fossils, they slowly lock into place. The dust settles. They disappear under layers and layers of sand. He rides it out. Time goes on. His bite softens. “You’re doing so good.” Eddie opens his eyes, but the room is so dark he might as well have kept them closed. Everything is warm shade of deep endless blue. They’re underground. Hidden. Their bodies are two secrets. They do not speak. In the indigo, he learns something new about Steve. Steve’s hand slips out of his mouth, down his chin, his neck. He jumps the distance over Eddie’s chest, careful not to touch. His fingers land on Eddie’s stomach and he tilts his hips backwards ever so slightly. Just until their hips no longer fit flush together. But Eddie knows a little something about Steve now. He doesn’t say a word. The pain subsides, he rode it out, but his teeth miss the bone between them. The flesh and spit. His mouth is dry. Eddie’s arms hang limp before him, dark shapes in the darkness, dangling off the edge of the mattress like he forgot he left them there. His fingers move back and forth because he tells them to, barely visible. For his first real decision of the day, he reaches for Steve’s hand. A tiny twitch, just barely there, and then the muscles soften. Eddie laces their fingers together, thinks of all the little bones working simultaneously. He rests their joined hands right next to his pillow, where he can see the outline in the darkness. They’re out of breath, both of them. Steve’s exhaustion shivers against the little hairs in his neck. Sweaty and hot. Almost explicit. Eddie traces his fingers over the side of Steve’s hands, finds the little dents where his teeth used to sit, slick with spit. A perfect fit for his fingernails if he were meaner, but he smooths out the skin with the pad of his thumb. “Thank you,” he whispers to the indigo and he hopes that Steve is asleep. “Of course.” Steve sounds a little wrecked. Almost as wrecked as Eddie feels. He should let go of his hand. At the very least, he should stop tracing the outline of his own teeth, but he’s exhausted. Steve is warm. His breath a soft comfort. In the indigo, he falls asleep. He sleeps for a very long time.

[extasiswings]

out of things unsaid

No one should be surprised by this...have some spec fic for 6x10, my beloved. 

When Eddie was a kid, his abuela kept a big novelty clock on the wall in her living room.  Every time it chimed the hour, a door would open and little miniature figures would slide out for different scenes.  It wasn’t quiet the rest of the time either—if you were in the room, you could hear it tick, tick, tick every second down.  The figures used to freak him out a little, but the noise the rest of the time, that steady tick in the background, was soothing somehow.  A reminder that time always kept moving forward.  And if time could keep moving, then no matter what happened, Eddie could too.

The clock fell off the wall the day his abuelo died and shattered when it hit the ground.  It wasn’t replaced.  The next time Eddie was in that room, the thing he noticed most was the silence.  It left the space feeling…frozen.  Suffused with absence.  Foreign and cold and wrong.  Maybe time kept moving, but at least in that room it never felt like it again.  

His abuela moved to LA after that.  Sold the house full of memories that were colored over with a kaleidoscope of grief and growing stale.  Put a new clock on the wall of her new house.  A quieter one.  And time started again.  But not the same as before.

Never the same as before.

It’s funny, the things you think of when your world falls apart.  Because Buck gets struck by lightning and thrown off the ladder, is hanging in the air like a ragdoll at the end of his line, and despite not having remembered the thing in years, Eddie thinks about that damn novelty clock.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Eddie moves without thinking, just feeling, running on pure instinct.  His throat is raw from a scream that he doesn’t remember letting out, and his hands grip the ladder—

He’s blasted off by another electric shock and lands hard on his back, his ears ringing.  But he still hears the ticking of the clock, the old memory echoing in the back of his mind.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

He scrambles to his feet and takes a step towards the ladder again, only for hands to grab the back of his turnout.  Eddie tries to pull away, but the grip holds fast.    

“I need to—”

“That thing is a lightning rod,” Bobby interrupts, tugging Eddie around to face him.  “You just experienced it yourself.  I can’t let you go up there.”

“Cap—”  Eddie’s voice cracks.  A year ago, that might have bothered him.  Because a year ago, he never let anything get to him on calls.  A year ago, he knew how to shut down and get to work, to stay focused and keep out all the noise.  A year ago, he knew how not to show when he was breaking.  

But now—

Now he feels everything.  Too much to keep inside.  Too much to ignore or push through.  He’s shaking, and he doesn’t think it has anything to do with the electricity that just zapped him.  

“You have to,” Eddie replies.  “I can’t—we can’t just leave him up there!”

The weight of responsibility is etched into every line of Bobby’s face.  “We won’t, but we need a plan—”

“We don’t have time!” His voice cracks again, and Bobby’s eyes close, but his grip still doesn’t loosen.  

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Eight minutes.  If Buck’s heart stopped when he got hit—which seems likely since he isn’t moving—he has about eight minutes without CPR.  Brain damage can happen after five.  

Sometimes Eddie wishes he wasn’t a medic.  Because then he wouldn’t have to know things like that.  He could be blissfully ignorant instead of counting every single tick of the clock in his head.

Tick.

Tick.

“Bobby.”  Not Cap.  And Eddie doesn’t care that he’s flaying himself open with a single word, shining a spotlight on every feeling, every wish, every desire that he’s been trying not to look at himself, let alone share with anyone else.  He feels like an animal caught in a trap, wriggling and desperate and terrified out of his head.  He feels like he’s been shot again—no, worse than when he was shot, because at least then it was only him, at least then dying was the worst thing that could happen to him.

Eddie doesn’t know what’s going to happen when the clock stops this time, but that moment is looming ever closer, threatening to swallow him up in a frozen, silent wasteland, and he can’t—

Tick.

There’s a shout from behind them, and Eddie is finally able to rip away from Bobby’s hands.  When he whirls around, Hen is halfway up the ladder to Buck. 

Eddie holds his breath as he watches her climb each rung.  And he listens to the ticking of the clock.  

Four minutes, five, five and a half—

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

She’s on the ground by the time his count hits six, and Eddie knows he should let her do her job, let anyone else do it, but she doesn’t argue when he helps her get Buck’s terrifyingly still form on a board.  She doesn’t say a word when he rips open Buck’s shirt and presses his palms to Buck’s chest to confirm what he already knew.

Nothing.

In his mind, Eddie sees the clock crashing to the floor.

“No.”  It slips out as his own heart picks up double-time.  “No, you don’t get to do this.  You don’t—”

He doesn’t notice the look Hen and Chim exchange over his shoulder, or Bobby stepping up beside him, can’t be bothered to even think about what he’s giving away right now.  He fits his hands together as Chim switches places with Hen and presses them to Buck’s chest, starting compressions.

Time seems suspended between them all.

They get Buck into the ambulance.

They shock him with the portable defibrillator.  Once, twice—

The drone of the heart monitor replaces the silence of the stopped clock in Eddie’s head.  And just when he thinks that might be worse—

Beep.

Tick.

Time starts again.

And Eddie’s legs give out from under him as he lets Chim gently push him aside.  

His hands are still shaking when they arrive at the hospital, when Buck is wheeled through the ER doors.  He thinks his whole body might be.

“He didn’t wake up,” he croaks out finally, giving voice to what neither of them were willing to think about while in the ambulance.

“We got his heart started,” Chim replies.  “He’s alive.”

“Yeah…but he didn’t wake up.”

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Chim blows out a long, slow breath.

“He will.”

“He was down for so long—”

“Eddie.”  Chim grabs Eddie’s shoulder as he sways, a wave of dizziness crashing into him.  “Buck will wake up, okay?  We just have to give him some time.”

Time.  

Sure.

Chim tips his head, eyes narrowing as he looks at Eddie carefully.  “Are you okay? Physically, that is.  You got shocked pretty good back there too—you should get checked out.”

“I’m fine, I’m—”  Another wave of dizziness, and Eddie’s head spins, black creeping in at the edges of his vision.

“I need some help over here!” He hears Chim shout, and then he’s falling, fading, slipping away.

Somewhere, a clock ticks on.

[kudzuoath]

Wretched Things

Nothing lives in the shadow cursed lands. Even the trees are undead. This is a problem when you need to drink blood to survive.  Thankfully, Caspian is a giving sort.

–

Try as he might, Astarion’s focus kept sliding away from his book. The wretched burning in his throat, the sandpaper feel of his tongue, the emptiness of his stomach. All served to sever what little attention he had. 

He grit his teeth and stared holes into the page of diagrams. One of several books regarding undead that they’d recovered since finding Moonrise. Caspian seemed to be collecting the things for him. 

The gesture flayed him. 

“Horrid, pink thing,” he grumbled under his breath. “Wretchedly pastel tiefling.”

Maybe he’d be flattered if she didn’t also help just about everyone they came across. Oh she never made any promises – but nevertheless they always ended up in a bloody hag’s lair, or fetching a bard from a cage. 

Actually… 

Astarion’s gaze drifted over to Volo, who was scribbling away, not a care in the world. Surely no one would mind if he indulged in a little snack...

If nothing else with Volo as a victim, he could talk the rest of the party around when they found his corpse. 

Though it wouldn’t be that hard to hide the body. All he had to do was toss it into the lake. With the shadow curse no one would even question it. They all knew the little idiot had the self preservation of a gnat. 

His mouth was watering over Volo. Terrible. 

“Astarion?”

His gaze slid over to the wretchedly pastel tiefling herself. She’d apparently found somewhere to bathe – probably at the inn – because her hair was pale lavender again, rather than the sort of muddy brownish black it had turned from all the blood. 

Not, mind you, living blood. Of course not. The black, congealed jelly-like substance of the dead held by the shadow curse. 

“Well don’t you look a treat this evening,” he said. “Unfortunately I’m rather busy at the moment –”

She ignored his attempt to brush her off. 

“There aren’t any animals here.”

“Really?” he said, looking around in feigned shock. “I hardly noticed. Perhaps next you might tell me what color the sky is?”

Again she ignored his goading. Though those black and indigo eyes narrowed. A laser focus. “And the only people we’ve fought in days are dead already.”

“Your skills of observation are truly something to behold,” he said, fighting not to bristle. What, was she going to start making threats? He was still going to eat Volo. 

“When was the last time you fed?”

“Why?” he asked, lowering his voice into a pur that usually made her blush. “Thinking of inviting me to dine with you?” 

Caspian put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. He was too aware of the bared expanse of her throat. The way her pulse jumped. 

“Yes.”

For a split second he was confused. Why? What did she get out of it? Then he realized he didn’t care. He would take what she gave him. And then take still more. 

“You have such a generous soul,” he said, slipping closer so he could coil a lock of her hair around one of his fingers. This time she blushed. Far more appealing than Volo, really. He still remembered the hot, honeyed taste of her blood sliding down his throat all those nights ago. Did all tieflings burn like that? “I’ll see you tonight, my sweet.”

Even redder, Caspian shook her head. 

“It’s been at least a week, hasn’t it? Just – drink, Astarion.”

“How kind of you to notice…”

He was hardly going to turn her down. The thirst strangled him. He’d been much, much worse off over the centuries. But after so many weeks of being truly sated, starvation sawed at him like a stranger rather than the old friend it was. 

“--  for not thinking of it sooner,” she said. Had she still been talking?

Astarion slid his hand into her hair and tilted her head. Caspian allowed it, still practically glowing from the amount of blood in her face.

Cute. You would think she’d fluster less after the times they’d slept together. 

“Sit, dear,” he said. “I would hate for you to fall.”

Caspian did so. And the moment she was settled he leaned in close, and bit her. 

Her gasp was drowned out by the sudden rush of relief that poured into him. Blood touched his tongue, slid down his throat, and it was like waking. Hot, spiced, honeyed – and none of those things. Her blood – like the last time – burned all the way down. But pleasantly. Like expensive alcohol. 

Astarion tightened his grip in her hair, and drank deeply. Drowning that starving feeling. Luxuriating in the sensation of satiation. The creeping numbness in his fingers faded. The weakened woozy feeling in the center of his chest shriveled. 

“Astarion…”

More. He needed more. 

“If you don’t… stop… you’re going to have… a very awkward conversation… with Shadowheart.”

Caspian’s hand, on the back of his head. Fingers twining through his hair. 

Her heart beat stuttered. 

With a gasp of his own he forced himself to let go, to draw back. Though not too far this time because as soon as he stopped drinking, Caspian half collapsed against him. She was breathing hard, as if she’d been running for hours.

There was an ashen quality to her skin, her lips were pale and her eyes heavy lidded. 

“Shit,” he swore. 

“Shouldn’t have… left it so long,” she mumbled, head nodding forward. A long sigh. Then, she started to hum. 

From anyone else he would assume this was related to the blood loss. But Caspian drew magic from music. Sometimes from rhymes. Too still, he held her up as she hummed and coaxed the weave around them. He felt the spell gathering around her – and then felt it take. 

She sat up, looking marginally better. There was some color in her lips, at least. 

“Well,” he said. Awkwardness clawed at him. Though not as hard as it might have. For the first time in days he felt himself. “No need to talk to our resident Sharran.”

Caspian laughed. “I think she’d be more annoyed at me than you. Feel better?”

He did. 

“I’m positively brimming with energy, darling.”

“And you’re in a much better mood,” she pointed out. There was a flash of fang in her smile. Maybe he had been rather… prickly of late. But no one was happy here anyway, so it shouldn’t have been all that noticeable. 

He sniffed. “I miss the sun. This whole cursed place smells like a tomb. And –”

“You were hungry,” she said. Her smile faded, replaced by a knit brow as she looked up at him. He realized he was still supporting most of her weight and – when had he put his arm around her? The warmth and presence of her body was… nice. 

“Did you drink enough?” 

“I nearly drain you and you ask if i’ve drank enough, Cas?” An eyebrow lifted. “I did hope you had better self preservation instincts. Not too much better, of course…”

“I doubt the others are going to invite you to dinner,” she deadpanned. “Our options out here are bloody limited. And I don’t know how much longer it's going to take to get to Ketheric. You need to eat and…” she sighed. “And I don’t think I can give like this every night. I’ll get someone killed out there if I’m too weak to swing a sword or too slow to react with a spell.”

A terrible sticky warmth was building in his chest. It was foreign and insidiously… pleasant.

She was concerned. About him.

His eyes drifted to where one of her hands was gripping the front of his shirt. Caspian would have been so easy to lure to Cazador. The sympathetic always were. And she was nothing if not that. He could have stumbled into her on the streets, playing at a more mortal starvation. 

Help me, he imagined saying. And she would. All the way to Cazador’s teeth. 

Idiot. 

“Should we dine again tomorrow, I won't need as much.” All she had to give, and more. It was his for the taking.

Caspian’s head dropped against his chest and she let out a longer sigh. Relief? Perhaps? 

“Okay. Okay. This is doable.” 

He waited for her hands to drift lower, or her lips to touch his skin. He was resigned to it. It was the most natural sort of payment in the world. And he knew she enjoyed his touch.

But instead Caspian sat up and yawned. “Right. I need to sleep. And probably eat something. In the reverse order.”

“What, no desert?” he whined.

“Ha! If by desert you mean sex, I’d fall asleep before you got your shirt off. I’m afraid I can’t feed both hungers tonight.”

“Pity,” he said, stretching. The way her eyes tracked his movements softened the blow of rejection. “I’m certainly feeling invigorated.”

“Alas,” she deadpanned. There was a spark in her eye and a slight curl to her lips. “You'll just have to invite you hands into bed tonight instead.”

Caspian stood, sketched a theatrical little curtsy, and sauntered off toward the campfire. Almost immediately she fell on the bowl of stew Gale handed her like a ravening wolf. The wizard laughed at her and said something that earned him a smack with her tail. Shadowheart made a dry comment about the puncture wounds on her neck. Caspian fired back, but made no move to hide them. 

And Astation watched her with a faint smile. 

“Wretched thing.”

[standfucker]

I loved this chapter so I'm just going to dive right into all the parts I loved so here we go

[He’d toss you roughly onto a nearby couch or chair and spend time inspecting your work, but after a few rounds of this you realized he was just forcing you to take breaks.]

I love how he could just use his words and *tell* you to take a break but no, this guy's going to play with his new toy and flaunt his power more!

[Vampires could subsist on animals, but they usually had thralls – humans willing to be fed from in exchange for protection, or lodging, or money – or some mix of the three. The only people with more land and wealth than the vampires were the Celestial Dragons. Not even most nobles could compare to the wealth amassed by the long lived race. The balance of power was shaky at best. Vampires were powerful, but few in number. Turning humans into vampires was tricky business, and vampire procreation was a long process, as such humans out numbered them nearly a million to one. Before there had been thousands of vampires, but a great war some centuries ago had wiped out most of them.]

Me taking in all this worldbuilding

seriously hooked onto this AU!!

[Honeysuckles were in the middle of that power struggle, but you didn’t like thinking about it.]

[“It… seems impolite to refer to it as feeding.” You admit, looking over at him carefully.

“It isn’t.” He answers gruffly. “Call it drinking if you want. You wanna talk rude? Most of us call drinking from honeysuckles dosing.”]

This was so good. Also I really like this reader, it feels awesome being this reader, they rule.

[“If I drink from you now, and you are addicting, or intoxicating, or whatever word that’s supposed to make me lose my senses, then I should be either recovered or exhausted by the time my partners return.”]

ARE WE GONNA SEE KILLER/HEAT/WIRE OMG

[Eustass’ fingers slowly slide over your throat, forcing your head back slowly before he pushes you roughly into the chair with enough force it causes the cutlery on your plate to clatter as the chair slams into the table.]

love the detail of the cutlery clattering to show impact!!

[“No ill-effects as far as anyone knows.” He repeats your words. “But you couldn’t look at me when you said it, so what are you hiding?”]

Ugh I LOVE this! I didn't even pick up on how the reader looked away but Kid noticed immediately! the keen perception, the strength, it's sooo good

[“I’m not a flower.” Your voice is small, and it feels like such a weak statement against an entire world that refers to you and those like you as honeysuckles.]

who hasn't felt like the judgment of the world is against them? I love this reader.

[You don’t have to look at him to know he’s irritated about something – no matter how old or young he might actually be it’s fairly easy to read his emotions. It’s a large part of what’s made it easy to relax around him, even if does shift gears swiftly sometimes, you never have to guess too much.]

love this detail!!

[He reaches out and tilts your jaw around a little, exposing your neck in different ways.]

this is making my knees weak!!! ( ;A;)

[“… They teach us that it’s painful.”

“Never know a thrall to cry out in pain.” His grin takes a lascivious tilt. “Not to say they don’t cry out.]

cue me leaning forward, wondering if this universe goes by 'euphoric bite' rules O.O

[“Mm, if I want to. Maybe I like hurting my meals.” He tilts your chin up so you’re looking at him.]

god, he just OOZES threat. it's so incredible, I dont know how you do it so well. you're amazing at this

EVERYTHING about the bite scene--the buildup with kisses, the tension, the pleasure--it left me breathless! I swear I could feel my own neck tingling. I LOVE the line [a strange insanity takes you, as though you’d risk death to feel the peak of that pleasure.]

[“Dhampir? Humans can’t get knocked up by vampires.”]

👀👀👀 well that makes things easier for us in later chapters don't it?

[“It’s what they call the vampires who have taken oaths to the World Government.”

Eustass stills, and the air around him seems to move on his behalf. His gaze nearly spears you to the chair you’re sitting in.]

ruh roh. I guess that's new to him, and it's not good.

Ooooogh the descriptions of his anger were so on point and the way he snapped at you and you run and everything, just, so good, I am EATING IT UP.

I'm so so so glad I had to go to sleep so there's still one more chapter left for me to read. I literally cannot wait to read what happens next! not to be selfish but I am wishing you tons of muse for this story because you have been killing it with every single chapter. Cannot believe shit this good is free. God I love fanfiction. Thank you for your hard work!

Honeysuckle: Red

afab!reader x Vampire!Eustass Kid

cw: Vampire AU with blood, violence, gore, some very marginally dubious consent, 18+ only

Summary: Vampires are real, and the World Government has ways of maintaining the balance of power and peace between humans and Vampires. Most of it is simple extortion, but one person's desire for freedom threatens to upend the delicate balance and change the world completely.

Tag List: @keiva1000

Chapter 4: Bite

Eustass’ idea of having you do what he wanted seemed to be mostly chores. He had you dust, and sweep, and clean almost constantly. If you weren’t eating or sleeping, you were doing chores. He’d toss you roughly onto a nearby couch or chair and spend time inspecting your work, but after a few rounds of this you realized he was just forcing you to take breaks.

Your only real concern was that there wasn’t much conversation between the two of you. The one time you brought it up he said that you’d just have to wait and see. Well, his exact words had been to not worry your “fairytale filled head about it.”

Over the course of about four days, you were slowly pulled into his schedule. Sleeping during the day was unusual for you, but it was surprisingly easy to adjust to. You’d been up most of the night the first day you’d stumbled into the manor as it was.

Meals were simple, but certainly more than enough food. He would grumble that you’d better not complain, but you were just glad to be getting regular meals.  You had been certain in your mad dash to leave the facility behind that you would be going long stretches without food. If you’d died of starvation while being free, then so be it, and so this was a far cry better than you had anticipated.

The beginning of the fifth night, as you were eating breakfast – a few slices of toast with honey on them and some fruit – your curiosity got the better of you.

“Have you, um, eaten?” You ask the question, but you’re pretty sure you know the answer. If he’s left the manor in the last few nights, it hasn’t been for long as far as you could tell.

Vampires could subsist on animals, but they usually had thralls – humans willing to be fed from in exchange for protection, or lodging, or money – or some mix of the three. The only people with more land and wealth than the vampires were the Celestial Dragons. Not even most nobles could compare to the wealth amassed by the long lived race.

The balance of power was shaky at best. Vampires were powerful, but few in number. Turning humans into vampires was tricky business, and vampire procreation was a long process, as such humans out numbered them nearly a million to one. Before there had been thousands of vampires, but a great war some centuries ago had wiped out most of them.

Now there were a few hundred at most.

Honeysuckles were in the middle of that power struggle, but you didn’t like thinking about it.

“Vampires don’t eat, princess.”

“It… seems impolite to refer to it as feeding.” You admit, looking over at him carefully.

“It isn’t.” He answers gruffly. “Call it drinking if you want. You wanna talk rude? Most of us call drinking from honeysuckles dosing.”

You can’t help flinching at the term. Convincing the world that all honeysuckles were addictive was the greatest lie the World Government had ever gotten away with.

“I’m still not convinced.” He says his tone freezing you in place as he stands behind you. “Everyone should be back by morning. I was going to wait, but if you’ve been lying.” His hands rest on your shoulders and suddenly you wish you hadn’t eaten breakfast.

“I haven’t.” You insist. Your voice is quiet, and your heart is pounding.

Eustass’ hands hold you in place easily, as he leans down and speaks low into your ear. “You’ve heard the stories, same as me, I’m sure. The Government protects the little honeybloods, because the terrible, monstrous, evil, blood-sucking vampires can’t help from drinking the little darlings dry. So sweet is your blood, so powerfully addicting, that we fall into a terrible bloodlust from it.”

“I’m not addicting.” You say the words, but there’s a vivid image in your mind of your cold and lifeless body on the floor, drained of blood and a feral Eustass Kid screaming in the dark manor.

“But your blood is still intoxicatingly sweet,” you can almost feel his lips brush against your skin, before he leans back a little. “If I drink from you now, and you are addicting, or intoxicating, or whatever word that’s supposed to make me lose my senses, then I should be either recovered or exhausted by the time my partners return.”

The chair you’re in is turned around easily, and those burning gold eyes are regarding you before he leans down. “Mm, princess?”

You’re struggling to meet his gaze when he’s so close. “I’m…” You swallow thickly, forcing yourself to look at him. “I’m a Honeysuckle Red, we… I… supposedly empower anyone who drinks my blood.”

“Empower?”

You nod. “Like adrenaline.”

Eustass’ fingers slowly slide over your throat, forcing your head back slowly before he pushes you roughly into the chair with enough force it causes the cutlery on your plate to clatter as the chair slams into the table.

“You said you weren’t a drug, little flower.” His eyes have that dangerous red hue to them, and his grip is immovable. By his grace alone you’re still able to breathe and speak.

“Ah-addicting… I said I wasn’t addicting.”

His eyes narrow and his grip tightens for a moment. You do your best to stay still, hoping that he doesn’t mean to snap your neck and save himself the complications. The tense moment seems to drag on, but you don’t avert your eyes.

“Side-effects?” He questions as his grip loosens.

“R-reds are the…” You stop and look away. “There’s no ill-effects, as far as anyone knows.”

“And you?” He prompts.

“Huh?” You look up at him and tilt your head a little.

“No ill-effects as far as anyone knows.” He repeats your words. “But you couldn’t look at me when you said it, so what are you hiding?”

“N-Nothing. Nothing!” You assert as his fingers start to tighten. Your face flushes and you look away. “It’s like … it’s like talking about an object.” You say finally, face and ears hot in anger and embarrassment. “Classifications. Purities. Effects. Addiction levels. Like we’re not even human.”

You’re quiet for a moment, Eustass doesn’t move his hand away but there’s no pressure behind it.

“I’m not a flower.” Your voice is small, and it feels like such a weak statement against an entire world that refers to you and those like you as honeysuckles.

You hear a quiet growl come from Eustass before he pulls his hand away. You don’t have to look at him to know he’s irritated about something – no matter how old or young he might actually be it’s fairly easy to read his emotions. It’s a large part of what’s made it easy to relax around him, even if does shift gears swiftly sometimes, you never have to guess too much.

It’s much better than the false kindness of the faculty.

“That was a lovely chat.” He says sarcastically. “But I’m still hungry, princess. What’re you going to do about it?”

“… I wasn’t aware I had a choice.” You admit, looking at the golden eyes that are regarding you coolly. A smirk slips across his face.

“You’ve had a choice since you chose to run away, little gift.” His voice is gruff, but the words are kind, or at least kind enough. He reaches out and tilts your jaw around a little, exposing your neck in different ways. “And I can choose if I give a shit.”

“… They teach us that it’s painful.”

“Never know a thrall to cry out in pain.” His grin takes a lascivious tilt. “Not to say they don’t cry out. But no one’s fed from a hon-.” Eustass stops mid sentence and frowns deeply. “Only one way to know, sweetheart.”

“Would you… could you stop, if it hurts?”

“Mm, if I want to. Maybe I like hurting my meals.” He tilts your chin up so you’re looking at him. Despite the heat in your face you’re able to return the gaze.

“You haven’t hurt me yet.” You say, knowing he’s had plenty opportunity to do so.

“If you want me to hurt you doll, you just have to ask for it.” He answers and you wonder if you’re both talking about the same thing anymore.

“I…” You wondered absently if being free meant wondering which choice was going to be your last, or if this was a unique situation. “Would like for you to eat.”

“I won’t starve in the next few hours.” He counters. There’s a glimmer in his eyes, and you feel like you’re being stalked.

“I know.” He offers his hand and helps you to your feet from the chair.

“Scared?”

“Nervous.” You admit.

Leaning down, he hums softly, pulling your collar aside. There’s enough give to the shirt that he can pull down both of your shoulders easily. The air against your skin makes your breath come back shaky and you can feel the grin coming from him.

“Not yet,” he says softly, kissing your neck. The soft sensation was unexpected, and you feel a shiver run through you as a small gasp escapes you. “Relax,” he commands, pressing another soft kiss against your neck.

His lips are hotter than you expected, and the pleasurable feeling from the tender kisses is distracting you. His hand presses against your back before his tongue presses against your skin. The new sensation makes you squirm and gasp, and he holds you in place. You can feel your heart beating faster and the rush of blood from it is a little dizzying.

“Eu-Eustass…” You’re not sure what you mean to say to him. That the pleasure is nice, but the anticipation is killing you, or that you don’t want him to feed, you just want him to keep making you feel good.

You didn’t know something like this felt so good.

He cradles your head with his hand, holding you even as the pleasure building inside you seems to demand you move.

“Shhh, (Y/N),” his voice hums against your skin, and there’s a second of fear as you realize what’s going to happen. The pleasure hardly relents however, and the fear subsides.

The hard pressure of smooth bone is against your skin for nearly a third time, and the sharp pain is so brief you’re not even sure you truly felt it. Pleasure jolts from your neck out into your body and you can’t stifle the euphoric cry that escapes your lips. The delicious sensation continues to build as he feeds from you, and a strange insanity takes you, as though you’d risk death to feel the peak of that pleasure.

Before you can even truly near it Eustass pulls away.

“Haaaa-Fuck.” He keeps his grip on you as he takes another deep breath. He seems to steady the two of you against one another for a brief moment before he has you sit back in the chair.

“Holy fuck.” He swears again. His skin is flush red down to his abdomen, his fingers flexing as claws extend and contract. There’s a wild aura around him, and you half expect him to howl like some werewolf.

He takes a step back, but it seems more for your comfort than his concern. The air around him is crackling and chaotic, but there’s no struggle or madness on his face.

“I feel like I could break the Red Line.” He says, his breath is coming out heavy and his usual fluid movements seem to flicker. You almost expect him to start teleporting around the room. “How long does this last?”

“… They say for as long as the Dhampir need to win a fight.”

“Dhampir? Humans can’t get knocked up by vampires.” He says it dismissively, but he’s still looking at you for clarification.

You swallow. It’s not like you haven’t been spilling state secrets to him all this time, but this one feels heavier than the rest. “It’s what they call the vampires who have taken oaths to the World Government.”

Eustass stills, and the air around him seems to move on his behalf. His gaze nearly spears you to the chair you’re sitting in.

The room’s been dark since you began eating, your “day” starts at sunset, and the manor is kept almost completely dark because there’s no need for Eustass to need light, and neither of you wants to give away the fact that you’re in the manor. Small sources of lights are provided so you can do your chores and move around without issue, but nothing more than that.

Right now, it seems like all the light from the moon and the candle at the table are being overpowered by a darkness rolling around Eustass. There’s a fury in his eyes, a deadly anger and an unsettling calm all at the same time. You can’t tell if he means to kill you for what you’ve told him, or if he’s keeping himself in check to keep from harming you.

The sound of his breathing is the only noise in the room. The air shudders with every exhale.

“Go to your room.” The words come from him clipped and sharp, barely controlled. “NOW!” He bellows when you don’t immediately move and the sound forces your limbs into motion.

The torrent of emotions from the last few minutes causes tears to sting in your eyes as you run toward your room. The euphoria, the pleasure, the rush, all crushed underneath the weight of the fear that made you run.

Even before you could make it halfway up the stairs you heard the front doors open and close with such force it nearly shook the entire manor. It was amazing that they hadn’t simply shattered in the frame. By the time you made it to the doors of your room you were at least certain that he wasn’t furious at you. You might not know him well, but Eustass Kid seemed the kind of vampire to simply bury whatever truly angered him.

Whatever he had left to do, you only hoped he returned.

[evilpol]

A little gif of Aela I made for a project of mine but decided not to use in it

[disturbedbeautywrites]

Rodeo - Bullrider! Jake Seresin Imagine

A/N: since we all love cowboy Jake so much, I figured I would have some fun with it and give you guys more

The hug before he leaves to go get ready to go into the arena always feels the scariest, as you hold your whole world in your arms. The “I love you’s” feel sweeter. The kisses feel more desperate. His adrenaline is already pumping, you can always tell by the look in his eyes. “I love you.” The words leave your lips one more time as he returns the sentiment, walking away as he blows you a kiss.

His chaps flap a little as he walks toward the gate to get him back to the bucking chutes. Your anxiety is always a little high when he gets on a bull; after all they are a 2000 lb homicidal animal who wants nothing more than to spear him. But hey, no big deal right?

This was the life of dating a professional bull-rider and it’s a life you never thought you would be in. That is, until you let Jake Seresin and fell head over heels in love with him. He stole your heart and drug you headfirst into his crazy lifestyle. It included traveling for rodeos more often then you were home. It included you becoming a personal nurse. It also included you having to know each moment with him is precious. He was in a dangerous profession, and you had to accept that.

You were in your own world as you walked over to your friends who saved you a seat on the bleachers, smiling at you as they patted the metal for you to sit down. “Come on, he’s good at what he does. You know that as well as we do. He’ll turn out. Besides, he said the bull he drew today isn’t the worst option.” Your friend was trying to calm your anxious nerves as she patted you on the back softly, giving you a small smile.

You just nodded and sent up a silent prayer that she was right, your fingers fiddling with the J necklace that laid against your neck. It was a gift Jake had given you for your first anniversary and it was now your favorite piece of jewelry that you owned. You were beyond nervous as you watched rider after rider take on their bills; their times varying and their scores varying even more.

“Alright ladies and gentleman. Our last rider here is our crowd favorite, let’s give it up for Jake Seresin and Gladiator.” You heard the announcers voice echo as you stood up and looked towards the chute, seeing him stand up. He looked your way, pointing at you before kissing his cross necklace and then pointing up to the sky. It was part of his ritual. He did it every single time after he met you. “I do it so you can always have that moment if something happens to me. It’s something I have to do. It’s the silent I love you.” He had explained it to you to you after he had been doing it for a while, a cheeky smirk on his lips.

You watched as the bull started to get agitated as Jake lowered himself down on the animal; the chute starting to shake. He motioned for them to open it, the bull immediately taking off. He took the stance that he was famous for; holding on as the bull tried to throw him around like a rag doll.

You silently prayed and watched the clock as it slowly ticked up the seconds. It never went by fast enough. Eight seconds when your boyfriend was riding an animal like this, felt like an eternity. You let out a small breath as the clock hit 6. Then it slowly and surely ticked up to 7. Then finally it landed on 8, cheers and applause erupting in the arena. You stood up immediately, cheering and yelling for your man as you expected him to easily slide off the bull.

However, as he went to get off the bull you noticed something was right. You couldn’t quite place it, but when Jake landed on all fours on the ground as a dismount, you knew something was seriously wrong. Your friends immediately came up to you as you raced towards the fence, your boot digging into one of the first bars as you started to hoist yourself up on it. You looked around the arena, spotting the bull heading towards the exit chute as the medical team ran over to Jake.

“(Y/N)! You can’t go in there!” Your friends yelling seemed distant as your eyes focused on your boy in front of you, your hands gripping the top of the fence as you threw your body over it. You took off running through the dirt and the mud as you approached Jake. He was hunched over on the ground, pained grunts leaving his lips as you fell into the dirt beside him.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong? I’m here, babe.” Your words were panicked as you started to look him over, no injuries present that you could see. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion as you saw Jake start to sit up, a small smile on his lips. “What..” your words were cut off as he completely stopped groaning or even pretending to be hurt. He pushed himself up to one knee, the other staying in the dirt.

Your hand immediately covered your mouth as you started to hear screams erupt throughout the arena. You couldn’t even hear Jake ask you to marry him over the noise, the small ring box in his hand being the main indication of what he was asking you. Tears spring to your eyes as you nodded furiously, throwing yourself into his arms as you sobbed happily into his neck. “You’re such a jerk. I thought you were hurt.”

Jake just chuckled and grinned, putting the ring on your finger before he pulled you into his arms. “Nope. I just wanted to go home with two prizes tonight. Looks like I got my wish.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, grinning as the two of you started to walk out of the arena. “I can’t wait to make you the official Mrs. Seresin. We’re getting married as soon as we can.”

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE TWO || FOR MYSELF

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + gojo satoru + ryomen sukuna from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mentions of violence and EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 09 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 3.0k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : ryomen sukuna

↳ next episode : girl of steel

↳ barista’s notes : since you loved the first one so much, i decided to do episode two for you guys ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ also i am now addicted to genshin impact and right now, i am on adventure rank 19 and already cleared the ‘stormterror lair’ thing ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ i hope you enjoy this cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen) and come again soon!

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’

3. this whole thing might be confusing and please don’t expect a part three because i will do it when i am ready or feel like i can at the right time ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ

4. i don’t know, if i am going to add this onto my masterlist since this was just for fun to be honest!

“What’s the situation?” 

All of a sudden, a new voice came into the area leading you to turn your head to the side to find a rather tall male standing next to Fushiguro. From a quick glance, you could immediately inform yourself that had spiky white hair with a black blindfold covering his eyes, as he carried a paper bag on his arm while wearing a similar outfit to Fushiguro meaning he was another sorcerer.

“Gojo-sensei?! Why are you here?” Fushiguro asked in surprise, as he turned to look at what you assumed to be his teacher leading to the shadows around him to immediately disappear from sight.

“Gojo…” you muttered under your breath as you looked at the two male sorcerers right in front of you in horror as you came to the realisation of the situation you were facing.

‘Mother…..I’ve been found…..’

                                                   ꕥ

“Hey!’ the teacher cheerfully greeted while waving an arm to his student as a short greeting. “I wasn’t planning on coming, but man, you’re roughed up,” Gojo explained, before leaning forward as if he was taking a closer look at Fushiguro to which then caused lead to his hand to go into his pocket as he proceeded to pull out his mobile phone. “I should show the second years, face this way!” the sorcerer playfully stated as he began to take a multitude of photos of the ‘roughed up’ student, leading to the subject of his images to turn away while covering his face with his arm.

Looking at the scene with anxiety looming above you like a rainy cloud, you swiftly turned your head back to see if you could find a way out without both of them as well as Itadori noticing as they were distracted for the time being.

‘Shit, the only way I can escape is either jumping from this floor or going through the large gap behind me, but that’s gonna make them notice. What am I going to do?!’

“Ah! Miss, I know you are already there, so no need to escape!” Gojo suddenly stated, causing you to quickly turn back with widened eyes - surprised at the fact that he knew what was on your mind - to find the teacher waving at you with the same greeting he gave to Fushiguro as if he had known you for some time, like an old friend one would say.

‘Ah…..what a drag….’ you thought, as you then carefully picked up the katana that had landed in front of you when the curse was exorcised before slowly sliding it back into the casing that was behind your back.

“The higher-ups wouldn’t such up with a special-grade cursed object gone missing, so I stopped by while doing some sightseeing,” Gojo explained while looking down his phone like he was checking something when in your mind, you assumed that he was going through the photos that he took of Fushiguro due to his jolly smile that was displayed on his face.

‘Maybe, if you damn sorcerers got the cursed object sooner before the damn protective seal was ripped off, WE WOULDN’T BE IN THIS SITUATION!’ you argued in your head, as you slowly began to realise the reasonings why your mother never took a liking to the higher-ups, to begin with.

‘Those higher-ups are so useless, all they do is command other sorcerers to do their dirty work while acting if they are superior dear. If I could, I would kill all of them’

“So, did you find it?” the blindfolded teacher asked, as he looked up from his device only for your schoolmate to interrupt the sorcerer’s conversation as he raised up his hand in a guilty manner. “Um...Sorry, but I ate it,” Itadori confessed, as he then pointed to himself to emphasise the statement leading Fushiguro to look down to the floor in what seemed to be in shame while Gojo turned to look at Itadori with a shocked expression.

“For real?” Gojo asked, trying to make sure that it wasn’t some sort of joke.

“For real,” Itadori and Fushiguro answered simultaneously, confirming that it wasn’t a joke at all.

In a complete rage, you slowly made your way towards your schoolmate before grabbing his shoulders with as much might as you could as you then turned him around to face you. 

“I don’t know who broke that damn seal I placed on that stupid little hut, but maybe if you haven’t taken that finger, we wouldn’t be in this situation where these two dumbass sorcerers would be in our lives right now!!” you screamed in frustration leading to the two mentioned sorcerers to look at you with dumbfounded looks painted on their faces while Itadori just peered at you with an extremely surprised expression.

During the school hours, Itadori had seen you a few times around the hallways and in his class when you had to collect something for another teacher. From what he could read off, you were the calm and collective type, someone who was on top of their academics while being able to maintain close relationships with other students between the three-years that Sugisawa Municipal Highschool offered. Even though you came off a bit blunt from time to time when calling something or someone a ‘drag’, the students liked that from you since that meant you were being honest to them as well as to yourself, just like the time when you surprised everyone when you rejected being part of the school’s council's committee much to the President’s begging. 

“But...shouldn’t you like sorcerers since you seem like one?” Itadori questioned with a confused tone, leading you to look at him with a rather both understandable but irritated expression which caused him to be nervous somewhat due to you being out of character.

“Just because I am one, doesn’t mean I like any of them!” you counted back, as you pointed towards the direction of Fushiguro and Gojo before continuing with “it was such a drag when Fushiguro was here this afternoon and it’s more of one now that two of them are here!” as you then let go of his shoulders before turning away to lean against the crooked metal balcony to relax your vocal cords after screaming so much.

Taking the opportunity, Gojo leaned to the side as if he was inspecting Itadori like he was painting before coming closer to the teenage boy with his hand on his chin as if he was thinking what he could do now. “Hehe, damn, it really did combine with you. That’s hilarious,” Gojo amusingly stated, causing you to turn back to look at the scene with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

‘What is hilarious about the situation right now? This isn’t something to find assuming Gojo’

“Anything off with your body?” Gojo questioned, after straightening his back leading itadori to inspect his body for a quick few seconds.

“Not particularly,” Itadori answered.

“Can you swap out with Sukuna?” Gojo then asked, leading you to then fully turn back to look at the special-grade sorcerer with extreme confusion and astonishment as you begin to wonder what hit Gojo’s head before coming here to the school.

“Sukuna?” Itadori confusingly stated as he looked at Gojo with a perplexed expression.

“The curse you stupidly ate,” you quickly answered, as you gave Itadori a serious glance before letting out a sigh of frustration leading Fushguro to quickly tug your arm as you dropped down to his height before you snatched your arm back, worried about what the Zenin relative would do to you.

“Oh…Yeah, I think I can do that,” Itadori clarified, as he placed his hand on his hip before giving a nod to emphasise this statement.

Stepping back, Gojo suddenly began to stretch in a weird position, which suddenly reminded you of a certain baseball player, but you couldn’t recall who before stating with confidence, “then give us ten seconds, once ten seconds are up, come back to us.”

‘Great, I’m going to die young…” you jokingly thought, as you looked to the side with a grim look as if you were staring at the death ripper at this very moment in time.

“But..” Itadori wavered, as he started to be concerned about Gojo's request since he didn’t know what damage Sukuna could do or how the teacher was going to be at the end of it. “Don’t worry, I’m the strongest,” Gojo confidently stated, leading to another grim look to appear on your face, as you were getting annoyed at his constant confidence even though you knew he had the right to be.

“Megumi, hold on to this,” Gojo demanded before throwing the bag towards his student, leading to the catcher to catch it with his hands before looking down on the paper bag with curiosity.

“Megumi?” you quietly questioned as you suddenly discovered that the sorcerer next to you had a feminine name - since it was quite rare to hear a male have a name that was generally used for the female gender. 

“What is this?” Fushiguro asked before his teacher stretched his arms right in front of both of you before answering, “Kikufuku from Kikusuian! It’s Sendai’s speciality, and it’s super good! I recommend the zunda and cream flavour!”

‘So...this man bought mochi when people here were dying, ah...that was dumbass~’

“It’s not a souvenir, I’m going to eat it on the bullet train home,” Gojo stated as if he needed an explanation for his actions. However, what got your full attention was the black markings that were gradually coming onto Itadori’s skin before he suddenly jumped up into the air while Gojo was still explaining his reasoning for this purchase.

“Uh Oh~” you commented, as you stared at the sky with widened eyes before Fushiguro screamed for his teacher’s attention at the curse directing an attack from behind. However, it seemed like his teacher wasn’t fazed on second as he continued explaining the reason why he bought the mochi, “Kikufuku’s not like other souvenirs…”

‘I THOUGHT YOU SAID IT WASN’T A SOUVENIR!’ you screamed in your mind before ducking your head down as Itadori’s body finally crashed back to the ground, trying to make sure that the debris didn’t blind you at all. Quickly looking back up to check what was happening, you suddenly came into eye to eye contact with a bright shade of ruby mixed with a hint of malevolence. You came to the realisation that it was Sukuan who was now in front of you while Gojo was casually sitting on his hack like a horse.

“And the whipped cream inside is simply exquisite..” Gojo continued talking, causing you to give off a confused expression on what really was going on inside the special-grade sorcerer’s mind and what his main priority was right now. Suddenly, Sukuna made a 180 degree turn to aim for another attack, yet the second Gojo clasped his hands together, he once again missed and as well as the other attacks he tried to execute.

Unexpectedly, Gojo appeared behind Sukuna’s back before leaning back to say something within his ear, “my student and a little sorcerer’s watching, so I’m going to show off a little.” Instantaneously, Gojo disappeared once again before grabbing the curse vessel’s arm as he then processed to hit Sukuna’s face with his arm, leading to Itadori’s body to slightly fling itself up in the air.

‘What is he manipulating? Time? No, that’s not it….is it like a vacuum? But that means he would be controlling empty space with no particles…’

Suddenly, you slightly noticed the slight manipulated on the air as Gojo’s arm begins to swing leading you to come to the conclusion that Gojo’s cursed technique might be the control of space at an atomic level, leading to a massive pressure to hit the King of Curses as his body smashed into the only part of metal railing that wasn’t bent.

“For crying out loud, you jujutsu sorcerers are always trouble, no matter what era!” Sukuna declared as he, once again, jumped into the air while somehow carrying massive pieces of the broken wall along with him before slamming down at Gojo’s direction. “Though that doesn’t mean much to me,” Sukuna arrogantly stated, with a smirk on his face as some of the windows processed to smash. 

However, the second the thin debris started to clear up, Sukuna’s expression quickly twisted into shock as a brightly lit barrier enclosed his opponent, yet he wasn’t the one that had a surprised expression on his face. Turning back around, Gojo found you kneeling next to Fushguro with a flat palm on the ground as your curse energy flowed down to the ground as if the box just didn’t just end on the ground that they were standing on right now.

“This is such a drag,” you muttered before standing up straight as you observed the walls making sure that there wasn’t a single crack when the rocks could have hit. “Seven, eight, nine, ten,” you counted and right on time there was a sudden change in curse energy pressure around you leading you to come to the conclusion that Itadori was now switching back, surprising Sukuan once again at the circumstances that he was in.

“Oh, was everything okay?” Itadori innocently asked, one the marking disappearing leading you to undo your curse spell as the walls slowly started to fade away with little blue parts flying away like they were little fireflies. 

“I’m shocked, you really can control it!” Gojo cheered while Fushiguro looked onto the scene with such surprise and confusion on what was happening.

“He’s kind of annoying, though,” Itadori commented as he continuously smacked his head, “I can hear his voice.”

‘And is smacking your head gonna make it better, idiot?’

“It’s a miracle that’s all he’s doing,” Gojo stated, with a smirk on his face as he began to walk towards Itadori before suddenly placing his middle and index finger on the salmon-haired forehead, causing Itadori to freeze for a second before giving in to the suddenly unconscious feeling empowering his body to which lead to his falling within the teacher’s arms.

“What did you do?” Fushiguro asked with slight worry in his tone.

“Knocked him out,” Gojo then answered. “If he isn’t possessed by Sukuna when he wakes up, he might have potential as a vessel,” the white-haired sorcerer explained as he then turned to his student with a question in mind. 

“Now, I have a question for you, what should we do with him and the little miss, who is trying to run away?” 

Confused, Fushiguro turned around, only to find you with your back turned to both of them as your foot halted the second his teacher had mentioned you. Turning back around Fushiguro then looked at his teacher with a serious expression displayed on his face, “even if he is a vessel, jujutsu regulations demand Itadori be executed. However, I don’t want to let him die!”

“Your personal feelings?” Gojo playful asked his student with a smirk on his face before Fushguro quickly answered, “yes, please do something about this.”

“Hehe~ Now it’s a request from a previous student,” Gojo stated, as he proceeded to lift up the unconscious teenager onto this shoulder. “Leave it to me! But also, what do you want to do with Miss runaway?” Gojo commented, once again leading you to halt your movement as you surprisingly made some distance between you and the two sorcerers now staring at your back.

‘Ah…..caught again…..’

Turning around, you looked towards the two sorcerers with a nonchalant expression displayed before giving them the hand gesture of ‘shooing them away. “There’s nothing you got to do with me, take Itadori and make sure to do what you’re planning to do, don’t drag me into your mess,” you commented, as you turned around once again, only to find the infamous sorcerer to be standing right in front of you with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Come on~ Jujtutsu Tech is so much fun, you get to make a few friends and you get to bug Megumi!” Gojo cheerfully tried to persuade you, only for you to scoff in annoyance at this futile attempt to invite you to the school that your mother informed you all about.

“I rather not be near anyone belonging with the three clans,” you irritatedly declared as you placed your hand on your hip trying to keep a distance between you and the teacher. However, this statement of yours caused Gojo and Fushiguro to look at you with surprise painted on their faces. How much did you know about the Jujutsu world? How did you have the acknowledgement of the three great families? Who were you and how much you had the strength to stop Sukuna’s attack within a millisecond?

“L/N!” Fushiguro stated, leading you to turn to him with an angered expression on your face which caused Gojo to peer at you with seriousness clouding his entire body.

“L/N huh?” Gojo curiously questioned, “no wonder your curse technique is familiar to what those old documents have told.”

Taken back to his discovery, you turned back to look at Gojo will a deadpan expression leading him to then carefully suggest, “Since you are part of the lost L/N clan, I won’t tell the higher-ups about your existence but rather have you twist your name slightly when you enrol, how does that sound?”

Glancing at the teacher with suspicion, you tried to hide the gut-wrenching feeling that there was not a possible chance of you now escaping from this. You had been caught and found and there was no way to lie yourself out of this situation you were in, not when Gojo had discovered who you really were while Fushiguro seemed to look clueless on what was going on between his teacher and the female sorcerer in front of him.

Letting out a sigh of frustration once again, you looked up at the sky, letting the same moonlight bathe your face as it did for Sukuna a few minutes ago.

“What a drag”

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[h2bakugou]

Ahh hey!! Okay so um..can you do Bakugo helping reader who has severe family issues and she’s trying to put on a brave face but when he asks her if she’s okay she just breaks down in tears. (Omg I’m sorry if this sounds so personal 😭💜but thank you for your time!!💗)

a/n: hey hun! of course! i think i wrote something similar to this with todoroki? i can’t remember but that’s beside the point lol. much love to you anon <3 !! i’m sending hugs n kisses <33

headcanon: them comforting their s/o who breaks down in front of them

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: fluff, swearing, angst, mentions of family issues, mentions of trauma

;cut for length;

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugou

»»————-　★　————-««

Shutting things out and putting on a brave face was just how you learned to deal with your past, with your family.

It was easier to act fine when you weren’t. 

Letting yourself be vulnerable, how could Bakugou ever like someone like that?

He never seemed to suspect anything, at least that’s what you thought, what you believed.

You didn’t want to put your burdens on him, he had his own things to worry about. 

Bakugou noticed the little things. 

How you would instinctively flinch when someone raised their voice at you, or how you always acted obediently when elders were talking. There was no hesitation or disagreement, even when it seemed unfair.

Even more so, when your parents showed up for some parent-teacher meeting, you looked like a deer in headlights, frozen in time.

You barely spoke, you acted like the perfect daughter, and every stare in your direction caused your posture to stiffen, a smile to rise to your quivering lips, your trembling hands were forced to stay still as you handed them whatever it is they asked for.

Bakugou couldn’t keep ignoring these signs. It wasn’t like he was blatantly just unbothered, no it bothered him a lot. He bit his tongue when he watched your father’s scolding gaze burn holes into your hopes in dreams when he called your hero career ‘unnecessary and pathetic.’

He couldn’t fight it any longer when you sat quietly in his dorm, having just talked to your folks on the phone.

You were mostly quiet the entire conversation, he could hear your parents yelling at you through the speaker despite it being pressed to your ear.

“Are you okay?” Bakugou asked, completely out of the blue. You glanced over your shoulder at him and closed your eyes.

A shaky breath passed your lips and you turned to crawl over to him.

“No, no.” You cried, hugging him like a stuffed animal. You held him as close to you as you could, your hands grabbing handfuls of his crimson-colored shirt.

Bakugou was quick to grab you, holding you to his chest as you sobbed, your tears staining dark spots onto his shirt.

“What’s wrong?” Bakugou’s voice was soft, an opposing feature to his usual demeanor.

“I’m so tired.” You mumbled, wishing you could just ignore what was going on. 

It was a constant battle between you and your parents. You just wanted them to be proud of you, you wanted to see them smiling at your graduation, cheering you on as you landed your first gig at an agency, hell maybe be those over-bearing parents that blab about how their child is amazing at book-clubs and sports bars.

But you’d never experience that.

“I just want them to be proud of me.” You could barely speak, you were shaking and it was hard to breathe, tears were spilling from your eyes like a broken faucet, and your nose was beginning to run.

“I know.” Bakugou’s quiet voice paired with his gentle hands began to calm you down as you wept.

“It will never be the same, but I’m proud of you.” Bakugou couldn’t give you parental love, all he could provide was his own form of love. But he knew someone who could.

It wouldn’t be the same as your own parents, but he knew more than anything that you were loved so dearly by his own folks.

So later that day, after wiping your tears away, he made a quick call and the two of you rode over to his house.

“It’s so good to see you again! I hope he’s not being too much trouble.” Mitsuki gave you a warm hug, one you wanted to last forever. You didn’t even realize you’d started crying again as you hugged her.

“Let’s-oh, hey are you alright?” Mitsuki’s red eyes filled with worry as she hugged you close to her. Bakugou turned at the sound of sniffling.

“Y-yeah. I’m all good. Just happy to see you.” You pulled away, quickly apologizing for staining her peach-colored shirt.

“Let’s look at embarrassing pictures of Katsuki!” She grinned, knowing just how to cheer you up. Bakugou erupted with anger as he quickly tried to salvage the photo album but it was too late.

Bakugou let it slide though. Watching your face light up, hearing your laugh as you looked through pictures of him as a kid doing silly things, he was happy to see you smiling again.

“You’ll have to bring over a photo album so he doesn’t feel so left out.” Mitsuki laughed. Your smile began to sink.

“I uh...” You stared at your lap. Bakugou looked up from preparing lunch to look at you.

“I don’t have any pictures from my childhood. At least, none in an album.” You admitted, embarrassed. Mitsuki’s heart dropped. Sighing she quickly stood and scrambled through a felt storage cube on a shelf.

Humming satisfied, she yanked Bakugou away and practically tossed him over the couch onto you.

You stared at him for a few seconds before hearing a click.

Snapping up to the sound, Mitsuki stood with a camera in her hands, smiling.

“Starting today, we are making a photo album! Katsuki! Smile!” Mitsuki yelled at her son, forcing the blonde boy in your lap to smile. You began to smile again as you wrapped your arms around him, tickling his sides as Bakugou hunched forward, a genuine smile on his lips.

The sound of another click set off.

It was the beginning of a plethora of photos. You began filling up an album with the Bakugou’s, ones on holidays, even on class trips.

Your favorite was one Mitsuki took of you and Bakugou asleep on one another from a long holiday road-trip.

With your head on Bakugou’s shoulder, his head resting over yours, Mitsuki had turned back and snapped a photo while Masaru drove.

Time began to heal old wounds, though there would still be scars. But even with scars, you could look back at memories from the healing process, and find good that had blossomed from the bad.

You loved Bakugou more than words could describe, and for this, and so much more, you were smitten.

As was he for you.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

[alpacaparkaseok]

If You’ll Have Me || KSJ

➣pairing: Jin x reader (established relationship)

➣premise: Kim Seokjin. The love of your life. Your boyfriend of three years. The man who insists on taking you to the zoo for every milestone in your lives together. There’s just one thing...you have no idea what you’re celebrating this time.

➣warnings/tags: fluff, SFW, we live for Jin in this household if you haven’t noticed

➣word count: 4.3k

➣commissioned by @delacyrose224 as a part of army for AAPI! thank you so much for requesting this, I loveddddd writing this little story. I’m so soft for this man. you always have the best ideas!!

“We look like idiots.”

“Yeah, well,” Jin shrugs, handing you yet another t-shirt to try on. “That can’t be helped.”

You gasp, snatching the shirt away from him and heading toward the fitting room. “Rude! I meant with all of these ridiculous clothes!”

Jin’s laughter follows you as you close the door and throw on what feels like the thirtieth gaudy t-shirt from the zoo’s souvenir shop. This one is vivid blue, which you suppose is an upgrade from the caution-cone orange Jin had you trying on a few minutes ago.

“Ok,” you call out, “ready?”

“Ready!”

Peeking out of the little room, you notice Jin sitting on the little sofa in the waiting area. He grins up at you, already wearing a matching shirt.

“Do you like it?” He asks, lips pouting out a bit as he waits for your answer.

Avoiding looking in the mirror for too long, you manage a feeble, “Yeah…it’s not as bad as the others, I guess.”

That’s all Jin needs to hear. With a clap of his hands he’s jumping up and herding you toward the front of the shop. You don’t miss the amused glances people are giving you and your boyfriend, who pauses to grab a couple of baseball caps.

“Let’s see…” he brushes some of your hair back before sliding the cap onto your head, stepping back to get the full effect. “Perfect. And, it’ll protect your scalp from the sun!”

Like a couple of walking mannequins, the two of you head up to pay for the clothes you’re now wearing. Jin has a backpack on hand for your other clothes, which you unceremoniously shove inside before zipping it shut.

The cashier offers you a wide smile as she assists with the transaction. You know what she’s thinking:do I pity or envy her?

Honestly, it’s a toss up. Of course, there’s the fact that Jin often makes you do ridiculous things (exhibit A, bright blue zoo t-shirts with roaring lions on the front and waddling penguins on the back), but then again, you don’t stop him.

Rather, you egg him on. There’s something just so adorable about the way he gets so excited for such simple things. And for today, it’s over a trip to the zoo.

Of course, you’re excited as well. Mainly to see the meerkats, which Jin will never let you live down. When you told him that the meerkats were your favorite animal, he stopped and stared at you for an unnervingly long amount of time. You had begun to wonder if you’d somehow upset him when he burst out laughing, claiming that he could see it.

“See what?” You seethed.

“The resemblance,” Jin choked out between laughter. “You’re basically a meerkat in human form!”

With a smack to his chest, you glared at him and said, “Yeah well…you’re a walrus! Yeah, a walrus!”

Needless to say, he was extremely offended and didn’t speak to you for hours. In fact, the only thing that had brought him out of his misery had been you dragging him to the souvenir shop and giving him permission to get whatever he wanted. That apparently included getting you some items as well.

“Ah, it’s such a nice day,” Jin remarks the second you step outside. His hand slips into your seamlessly, a testament to the countless times you’ve repeated the action. “Perfect day at the zoo.”

Indeed it is. The sun is shining, there’s a cool breeze licking at the nape of your neck, and there’s fewer people than you’d expected to be here on a day like today.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that it’s Tuesday morning. It would appear that most people – the sane ones, at least – are busy with work and other weekday obligations. Neither of you are, though. Jin has a rare day off and he’d had the day circled on the calendar for well over a month at this point. You had made sure a long time ago to have this day off.

“When’s the last time you went to the zoo?” You ask, glancing sidelong at your boyfriend.

Perhaps it’s his undeniable good looks or the fact that you hardly get to see each other due to your hectic schedules, but you can’t help the little sense of wonder that comes over you as your survey him in the morning sun. Somehow, you really have no idea how he does it, he manages to pull off the shirt and hat. Sure, he looks silly. But he owns the look.

It’s a wonder that he’s yours.

“Hmmm…” Jin ponders for a moment. “I think it was the last time we went together.”

You gasp. “That was like…three years ago! You seriously haven’t been since?”

Laughing at your shocked expression, Jin shakes his head. “Nope.”

Three years ago, close to the time when the two of you had first started dating, Jin wanted to take you out on a special date to celebrate the beginning of your relationship. Without telling you where you were going, you had assumed there would be a nice restaurant, maybe some sort of play or whatever else it is that fancy people do when they first begin to date.

Oh, how wrong you’d been.

Assuming that just because Jin was…well, rich, you couldn’t be more wrong about his taste in dates. When he had parked in the zoo lot and led you through the entrance, you had been waiting for the punchline.

There wasn’t any. No, he had simply wanted to spend the entire day with you. Walking around, having an “excuse to hold your hand” in Jin’s words, and somehow making you believe that crocodiles’ tails could change color when it danger. (don’t ask)

“I still think that it would be so cool to live up there,” you point to the houses in the distance, overlooking the zoo. There was a neighborhood of stately homes just a little way’s away which the two of you had snooped on after your date to the zoo all those years ago.

Jin chuckles quietly. “What if a tiger escapes and ends up in the yard?”

You shrug. “I guess it makes for a good excuse to always keep a steak in the fridge. I’ll lure it away with that.”

“Absolute genius,” your boyfriend hums, making you scrunch up your nose at his obvious sarcasm. “So, where should we begin?”

“At the beginning?”

Laughing jovially (honestly, the best thing about Jin is the fact that he thinks you’re funny), the two of you set down a little path which will take you to a butterfly exhibit.

“Agh, I forgot how hot it is in here,” you mutter the second you step inside. Plants of all different shapes and sizes loom over and around you, home to several different kinds of butterflies. A few stray butterflies flutter overhead, making you temporarily forget the humidity of the greenhouse.

Jin ooh’s and ah’s over the bright yellow butterfly that brushes past him. “Did you see that? It nearly landed on my nose!”

“Aw, it recognizes a Disney Princess when it sees one,” you coo, earning a half-hearted glare from Jin.

“I thought we discussed this,” he grumbles. “I’m Flynn Rider.”

“Right. My bad. Who am I again?”

A giant grin splitting his features, Jin wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Mother Gothel, obviously.” The slap to his right butt-cheek echoes through the greenhouse, quickly followed by his yowl of pain.

Pretending to wipe tears from his eyes, Jin limps after you as you continue through the greenhouse.

“You’re lucky nobody was in here to see that,” he says. “They could send you away for treating me so horribly. I mean, look! I bring you to the zoo, I buy you a nice shirt, I let you choose where we go first-”

Whirling around to face your boyfriend only to find a knowing smirk already on his face, you glare up at him. He knows that he won.

“Yah! What do you want?” You ask, exasperated. Limping forward, clearly milking this for all it’s worth, Jin pouts down at you with big, brown eyes.

“Just one kiss.”

You gasp, feigning horror. “A kiss?! In this sweaty, public greenhouse?!” You frantically point at the butterflies which are your only witnesses in here. “In front of the innocent butterflies?”

Jin looks at you and shudders. “Wow. I think it’s official.”

“What?”

“We spend way too much time together. You’re impersonating me right now, aren’t you?”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Yeah. But I still stand by my condition.” Finally taking one final step, Jin towers over you. With a playful wink, he puckers his lips.

“Ugh, I hate you sometimes.”

Jin peeks one eye open. “You just said you loved me earlier.”

“Is it too late to change my mind?”

“Sorry, no refunds.” Then, taking things into his own hands, Jin cups your cheeks and swoops in for a kiss.

On your nose.

Sputtering as he steps away, you glare at him. “What was that?!”

Turning on his heel and heading toward the exit, you notice that Jin’s over-exaggerated limp is long gone. With a devilish grin over his shoulder, Jin says, “You were taking too long. But you still owe me a kiss, whenever I ask for it. No matter where we are or what we’re doing, ok?”

You can recognize a trap when you see one. However, you’re left with no choice. Grumbling out a “yeah, whatever” you follow after him.

After the butterfly exhibit you make your way to the reptile house, opting to get all of the hot and humid indoor places out of the way while it’s still morning. The Gila monsters make you laugh as Jin takes a video of the tongue flipping in and out of its mouth and sends it to Hoseok. The two of you know full well that the boy in question will no doubt scream in horror as he watches the video.

Hand in hand, Jin finally swerves off the path toward one of the final indoor exhibits: Animals of the Savanna.

Once you’re inside, you pull and tug at Jin until he’s relenting and allowing you to find the meerkats. To onlookers, you’re sure you look like a child dragging their disgruntled parent to and fro. However, once you spot the meerkats, any thoughts of maintaining your dignity in front of these people eddies out of your mind.

“Jin! Jin! Seokjin!” You hop up and down on the balls of your feet, completely missing the tender look Jin sends your way as you drag him closer. “Look at them! Woooow there’s so many! Aww and there’s little babies, too!”

Jin just hums along, smiling as he watches your wide eyes. You get as close as humanly possible, grinning at the creatures that occasionally look your way. Through it all, he maintains some sort of contact. Giggling without knowing what you’re laughing about. Just laughing for the sake of it.

He just…loves the zoo. Yeah, that’s it.

It had been a silly idea, to bring you here three years ago to celebrate the beginning of your relationship. In fact, you had looked at him like he was already bordering on crazy when he had brought up the idea of doing something special now that you had agreed to be his girlfriend.

“Don’t people usually do something special for anniversaries?” You had asked. Your hair had been longer then, a tell-tale sign of your youth.

Jin shrugged, completely under your spell without your knowledge. He found it nearly impossible to look away from you at times like these. “We can do that, too. Next year. But for now, why don’t we just celebrate the beginning?”

“Sure,” you mimicked his shrug, snuggling into his side on the couch. Despite his unaffected demeanor, he wondered if you noticed the way his heart was pounding as you rested your head against his shoulder. “I’ll do whatever, as long as it’s with you.”

So, after discussing it with his best friends, he decided to take you to a beautiful dinner looking over the Han river. There was a new restaurant that was outrageously fancy and delicious, and he wanted to treat you to the best.

When he arrived at your apartment that evening, just in time to hopefully catch the sunset on the Han if all went according to plan, he overheard you talking on the phone. Your window was open, and like the snoop that he was, he waited to listen in on your conversation.

He wouldn’t have it he hadn’t heard your mentioning his name.

“I don’t know what we’re doing tonight,” you admitted. You were quiet for a moment while listening to the other side of the conversation. “You think so? I don’t know, I’ve never dated someone like this. You know, like…rich. What do rich people do on dates? I’m a little out of my element here, I just hope I won’t make a fool of myself.” Your laugh had him hurtling to reality, and he realized in an instant that he couldn’t take you to that restaurant.

A part of him knew in that moment that you were going to be the rest of his life. You were it for him. And if you want something to last, you treat it differently.

A perfectly forgettable meal surrounded by gossiping netizens wasn’t what you deserved.

So what did you deserve?

That had been the question on his mind as he tried to hide just how sweaty his palms were when he knocked on your door.

“Oh, I think he’s here. I – yeah, I’ll call you after. Ok, bye.”

Seokjin has always been good at pretending that he has a plan even when he has no idea what to do. Which is exactly what he did. You had been absolutely adorable, bouncing in your seat as he set off down the highway, begging him to give you a hint.

When he’d seen the exit for the zoo, he turned down that road without a second thought. You looked utterly confused when he pulled into the parking lot, and little did you know that he was just as confused as you were.

He just prayed that you wouldn’t think he was the dumbest person ever for letting those reservations slip through his fingers for the fanciest restaurant in Seoul. Perhaps a date to the zoo wasn’t the right idea, perhaps it wasn’t romantic at all, perhaps-

Perhaps you were happiest with his hand in yours and a meerkat a few feet away from you.

He’s so tempted to cash in that kiss right now, with how adorable you look. But he bites his tongue, reminding himself that he has to save it for later.

Once you’re loved of meerkats is sated enough for you to be herded away, Jin leads you to a street vendor. “Eat up,” he says as he passes the bread cone filled to the brim with macaroni and cheese to your outstretched hands. He’ll never understand your love for the little abominations, but he caves and orders one for himself as well.

“Don’t you want to sit and eat it?” He asks as he spies you wandering off. You twirl around, licking the cheese off of your lips. And stupid as it is, his heart skips a beat.

“They’re gonna feed the penguins in ten minutes!” You respond, clearly expecting that to be enough of an explanation. Again you turn to wander away. You’re not worried about leaving Jin behind, though. His long legs catch up to you within a few seconds.

The two of you eat in relative silence as you watch the penguins waddling around. Once you’re finished with your food, you spend a good hour sitting in the amphitheater watching the penguins and wondering which ones the two of you would be.

“I’m that one,” you point to a particularly fat penguin attempting to get out of the water. “That looks like me trying to get out of my chair whenever I eat.”

Jin nearly chokes on his water at your remark, squinting at the penguin that has yet to be successful in getting out of the water. “How pitiful. Oh, that’s me.”

Another penguin appears on the ice, looking down at the fat one.

“Oh, have you come to rescue me?” You ask, sitting forward and resting your chin on your hands. Jin immediately begins massaging the small of your back, knowing that it’s a troublesome spot for you most days.

“Probably- oooh down he goes!”

The two of you burst into a fit of laughter as the penguin pears down into the water only to lose its footing and slip in alongside the previously struggling penguin.

“Yeah, that’s us,” you confirm, still laughing.

“Definitely us. We’re a mess most days.”

You lean back, taking up your usual spot on the crook of his shoulder and resting your hand on the inside of Jin’s knee. “At least we have each other.”

You say it with a teasing tone, but Jin can’t help the way it goes straight to his heart. Sneakily planting a kiss atop your baseball cap, he squeezes you a little tighter. “Yeah, that’s true. Don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“Probably still on land,” you remark slyly, peeking up at him. With slightly pink cheeks and zero hesitation you utter out, “I love you.”

He’ll never get used to you.

“Love you, too.”

From there you head over to the polar bears, which appear to be largely unimpressed by your presence. Jin drags you to see the hyenas, sporting some strange interest in the creatures. It only makes sense to sit and stare at the large tigers after that, your mouth ajar as you marvel at its size.

Then it’s the elephants and rhinos.

“Ugh, it smells like your fridge that one time,” you joke the second to get a whiff of the rhino’s habitat.

“It does not!” Jin shouts, drawing the attention of some of the other visitors. “My fridge smelled much worse.”

You can’t help but cackle at his remark. “I stand corrected.”

Toward the end of your visit you pass by to visit the monkeys. “If you squeeze my hand any harder, it’ll fall off.”

You try and fail to relinquish your grip. “Sorry, they just freak me out.” As if on cue, a monkey swings by in front of the tall glass window, making you jump and squeal in terror.

“Should we leave?” Jin questions, hiding his laughter.

You bury your head in between his shoulder blades, squeezing your eyes shut. “No, just go fast.”

He does just that, speeding through the exhibit until he’s announcing that you’re nearing the end. Slowly you look up, blinking at the now dark sky.

“Have we been here all day?” You ask in wonder. Checking the time, Jin nods.

“Yep. It’s about time to head home.”

Languidly making your way back up the path to the zoo entrance and exit, you swing your hands back and forth. “That was so fun.”

Jin raises his brows. “Really? I thought you were a goner back there with the monkeys.”

Faking a shiver, you revel in the way Jin falls for it and automatically pulls you in closer. “I thought I was, too. But I just thought of the meerkats, and I made it through.”

Snorting, Jin waves goodbye to a few of the staff members the open the gate for the two of you to leave. “Is that so? It had nothing to do with your big, strong, boyfriend protecting you?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh really.”

“No. Why? Did you think we had something going on?”

Rolling his eyes, Jin bumps you with his hip, making you giggle. “If not, this has been the most dedicated friendship I’ve ever experienced.”

“Dude, you have six best friends-”

“Ok, first you say I’m not your boyfriend, and then you stoop so low as to refer to me as dude?!”

Your laugh rings out loud and clear in the evening air, followed by Jin’s stupefied laughter. “You’re so dramatic,” you accuse, reluctantly freeing yourself from his grip as you near the car.

“Hey, you don’t get to judge me. It’s not like you’re my girlfriend.” Still bickering back and forth, Jin starts driving and heads off to the right instead of the left.

“Woah, where are we going?” You ask, frowning out at the night.

Jin shrugs. “Let’s go snoop around those houses again.”

“The ones by the zoo?”

“Yeah.”

You’re all too happy to go along with it. Clutching your hand atop the console, Jin maneuvers his way to the small hill overlooking the zoo.

“Wow,” you breathe out. “I forgot how beautiful this view is.”

Indeed it is. The city lights glow and glint in the distance, creating a warm blanket of familiarity. The zoo lights are shutting off, only a few left on here and there. The sound of music from floats up toward you as you roll the window down, drinking it in.

“The residents always hear the closing songs each night,” Jin supplies, somehow reading your mind as you wonder about the music coming from the zoo. “It turns off by ten on weekdays and eleven on the weekends.”

“How’d you know that?”

“I have some friends that live up here.”

You turn to look at Jin, eyes wide. “You do? How come you never told me?”

“They just moved,” he explains with a forgotten smile. “You wanna see their house?”

“Yes!”

Jin turns down a different street, slowly stopping before a beautiful home with colonial style columns in the front. Sure enough, there’s a sign in the front of the house with a red sticker stating SOLD for all to see.

“Should we look around the lot?” Jin asks, turning off the car and taking off his seat. “It looks like they’re not home right now, but they said we could look around if we wanted.”

“You told them we were coming?”

He shrugs, hopping out of the car and hurrying around to open up your door. “I mentioned that we’d be in the area.”

“Who are these friends of yours, anyway?” You ask, stepping out of the car. The house quite literally takes your breath away, and you turn around to capture the full view. The city is still visible, the zoo and its music appearing more like a memory than a reality. “Wow, this is amazing.”

“Uh,” Jin scratches the back of his neck. “Their names should be on the sign right there.”

Frowning, you ignore his avoidance of the question and skirt around him to walk up to the edge of the lawn. Crouching down, your eyes scan the sign for any names you might recognize. There’s a small paper, almost like a receipt, hanging from the sign. Smoothing it out from where it’s flowing in the breeze, you squint at the names that appear.

Sold to Mr. Kim Seokjin and –

You know that name. You know that man.

And the name beside his…

“It’s our names…?” You breathe out, not quite understanding. Straightening up, you turn to face Jin with a confused expression. “Why does it-”

There’s Jin, but he’s not where you left him.

He’s down on one knee, looking up at you with the expression he gets when he holds his breath. Behind him the city gleams as bright as ever, however it somehow dims in the face of what you see before you.

Jin, opening up a small box. And inside the velvety interior, a ring shining as though it were made of stars.

Suddenly, it clicks. The date to the zoo, where you’d first officially began this relationship. The house with your name on it, the way Jin had this day circled on the calendar for longer than you care to remember.

Jin can’t breathe, and he can tell by the way your chest has stopped rising that you can’t, either.

“I- I’d like to cash in that kiss now,” Jin stutters out.

In a rush of limbs and a mixture of laughter and sobs, you find yourself kneeling across from Jin and kissing him hard enough to bruise his plump lips. You’d feel bad, except for the fact that he returns the kiss with just as much fervor. When the kiss begins to taste of salt, you pull away to discern of those are your tears or his.

It’s both, you realize as Jin gazes at you, completely oblivious to the tears streaming down his cheeks.

“O-oh!” He exclaims, staring down at the ring box in his shaking hands. “Will you marry me?”

Without a single ounce of hesitation, you laugh, voice thick with emotion. “Yes!”

That’s all it takes for Jin to pull you in close again, attacking you with kisses at a speed you can’t keep up with. He pulls back, panting and eyes alight with pure elation. “And do you want to live here with me, then?”

You choke on a laugh, still crying and on your knees. “Of course I do, Seokjin. You- you bought me a house.”

“Yeah,” he sniffles. “I did.”

Then, gasping with wide eyes, Jin snaps his fingers. “I almost forgot!” Jumping up to his feet, he runs back to the car. You watch after him, too in shock to stand at the moment. Your glinting rings on your hand catches your attention, making you wonder when exactly he put it on. No doubt it was sometime in the midst of his breathless kisses.

Jin returns a moment later, dropping to his knees again. Nevermind the fact that there are plenty of places to sit. He has a lanyard around his neck, and he places another around your own.

“What’s this?” You ask, grabbing the little card hanging off of the end. Once you catch sight of it, you begin to laugh (and somehow cry) even harder.

Season passes to the zoo.

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