#and i want to do more line+color even if its rough instead of leaving things as sketches.

[fungh0u1]

You're the weakest person there is, so I'm told.

[elmundodeflor]

And just like that, she’d fallen for him.

Spring. Summer. Autumn. The world had its cycles. There had been peace before war, and peace would come after bloodsheds and battles.

Katara looks at Zuko, at how he stares out to the width in the horizons. The curves of his nose and lips are soft, much like the colors of the leaves around them. The lines of his jaw and cheeks are sharp, in contrast.

He’s a beautiful man; she’s always thought so, even when they were enemies and he’d sworn he’d kill them. She likes it better this way, though— being friends, confidants, long-time companions. Kindness suits him more, either way. She likes how his face looks when he’s calm, — when there’s no rage to contort his scar, no scowl furrowing his brow.

She also likes that he knows her. That they can stand, silence pending between them, and it’s never too tense or uncomfortable. Zuko is just that good to her. He never puts too much pressure on her shoulders, — she’s had enough of that already. Instead, he soothes the rough edges. Lets her make her own choices and never judges her for them.

He looks back at her. An easy smile grazes his features; baffling, tortuous, beautiful. Katara has to fight the urge to freeze some water from her bottle and smash it across her searing face.

“Do you wanna…”, his voice cuts through the wind, raspy as it ever was. When he talks, it’s evident that he’s nervous. That he’s been circling around his thoughts and can’t seem to find the words. “I mean…”, he tries again. “Do you wanna stay here until you decide what to do?”

She hums, then turns her gaze back to the gardens. Aang had asked her to travel the world along with him, — to be by his side and help other people, from other nations and villages. She had yet to give him a proper answer.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to— go on missions, hear the masses’ suffering and be present in whatever way she could. Maybe, it was that she simply had pictured something different for herself. She could be so much more than just the “Avatar’s girl”! She could go home, lend a useful hand to Sokka and her dad advocating for their tribe. She could be an ambassador.

She could be with Zuko.

She can imagine the whole thing all too well, actually, — being on the palace, with him, until she could confront Aang about what to do. They could go for an evening stroll, feed turtleducks by the lake. Zuko’d make tea way past dinner time, and she’d laugh along with Suki when he’d burn his tongue by the first sip.

“There’s nothing I’d like more.”, she tells him, then. They are in one of the many balconies, staring out at the sun. The last scraps of summer have flushed with the breeze, and now the trees look all kinds of reds, yellows, oranges. Almost like they’ve caught on fire.

Zuko smiles at her again. A shy, wonderful thing that makes his eyes glint. His hair’s shaggy and overgrown, and falls limp between the honey of his irises. His cheeks burn a bright pink that, Katara deduces, might be from the gentle light warming up their faces.

“Okay.”, he says. He likes this, as well, — having her around. That he can open up to someone he can share his scars with, both the physical and the ones that lay underneath.

Katara inches close to him, just enough so that their elbows nudge together. The world has its cycles, she believes. Blue skies bleed into the darkness of the night. Ice defrosts when heated-up. And just like that, she’d fall for Zuko— delicate, and raw, and over and over. Helpless, like the moon that carries down the tides. Hopeless, like the autumn leaves that fall, ever so slow, and now gather at their feet like sea-foam.

“Okay.”

[nightfang22]

Patrick's Princess Chapter Three

A/N:Thank you so so much to everyone who's been enjoying this little series of mine!I will admit it's a bit self indulgent.I wanted to write something for the more uncommon age regressors I've met.I am well aware that not everyone age regresses and not everyone understands it so I understand if this fic is not for you.That is absolutely fine!While there will be sexual content in this series at some point in time it will absolutely NOT be during a regressed period for the reader character as I'm not comfortable with that kind of thing at all.Also in reference to the specific autistic behaviors I've written for this reader,they are based upon my own personal autistic experiences so it's good to keep in mind that while not all autistic people experience these traits,I do and there are plenty of others who do.They are completely valid and if you don't like this sort of thing just scroll away!Thank you for reading this note and I hope you continue to enjoy the series even though it's been on a serious hiatus for a good long while!Enjoy!

Warnings:Patrick is a warning on his own,fire,autistic meltdowns,slight atypical stockholm syndrome

Pairing:Patrick Hockstetter x autistic!little!Reader

Word Count:1.1k

 I could smell the soft scent of mint and Jolt Cola on his breath as it fanned across my cheek. His hand brushed through my (h/l)(h/c) hair as the other pulled me closer to him by my waist. "All mine~", he whispered into my hair as he inhaled my scent. I felt this funny bubbly feeling in the pit of my stomach and I felt shocks go through my spine when he shifted me in his lap. We lay up against a tree as the sun set. We had spent the entire day at that little tree in the woods and I had never felt so safe in my life. Even though my brother was most certainly going to be pissed that I ditched and I was probably going to be grounded for the rest of eternity, at that moment I didn't particularly care. I had come back out of my littlespace a good while ago but I could find myself able to leave his arms. I was curled up, straddling Patrick's lap as he held me there pulling me closer every so often as though we could get any more humanly close. I could feel the rough denim of his jeans on my thighs and the soft cotton of his t-shirt in my fingertips as I clutch it for dear life. Patrick had previously taken off his flannel and wrapped it around me, muttering something about my outfit 'drawing too much attention'. I was too deeply engrossed in this bubbly feeling to understand or analyze so I just let him. I liked the feeling of the heavy flannel fabric on my shoulders and the musky smell of his cologne too much to oppose. I simply curled closer into him, resting my head between his shoulder and his jawline. I mindlessly kissed his neck as I ran a hand through his hair. It was a tad greasy but otherwise very soft and smelled of dandruff shampoo. I mindlessly lay kisses across his neck and jawline from where my head rested on his shoulder. I felt his fingertips dig into my skin a little then as he entangled his hand in my hair and gave it a small tug. Not too rough, just enough to grab my attention and make me look at him. His eyes were an electrifying pale blue. Like someone tried to paint the color but had no true concept of what it was really supposed to look like so it just came out to a very silvery periwinkle. "What do you think you're doin', doll?" His words finally drew my line of sight away from his eyes and to his lips instead. They were curved in this beautifully mischievous grin. Almost like a predatory raptor looking at its next meal. The next tug that came on my hair was much more harsh, forcing my line of sight back to his eyes. This time, however, I seemed to have sobered from this intoxicating feeling and come back to earth. Wherever I was before, I'm not quite sure now. I looked around at my surroundings and glanced at my watch. I jumped up out of Patrick's lap and made a beeline for my bike. It's almost 7! (B/n) is going to kill me! I searched my pockets and my bag over and over again, hoping I hadn't lost my keys. I spin around on my heels when I hear keys jingling behind me only to see Patrick shaking them in his hand with his other in his back pocket. "Thought you were gonna get away that easy, princess? You should know better," he paused coming right up in my ear, "than to run away from Daddy." There was this gravel to his voice on the last word. Almost animal like.

I bit down on my bottom lip,feeling anxiety control my gut now.I was in a new place with absolute no idea where I was or how to get home from here. I know I really should've been panicking much more than I was,screaming for help,something.Anything.But I just couldn't find it in myself to want to leave.In my mind I knew that there would be consequences to all of this later.But that's just when they'd come.Later.And right now,all I wanted was to be right where I was.Somewhere in the middle of an unfamiliar forest with Patrick.I liked the way he made me feel and I loved the way he talked to me.Like I was the best thing he'd ever seen but also like I didn't have a brain at the same time.I wasn't even really sure how that was possible but he pulled it off so well that I couldn't find it in myself to care really.I looked up at him with a shy look on my face,my cheeks tinged a soft pink.I nodded,my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes,Sir.I'm sorry."

The smirk on his face was downright sinful as his eyes roved up and down my frame,drinking me in with his eyes.He placed his finger under my chin and tilted my head up to look up at him.I had never really realized just how much taller he was than me until now.And fuck was he tall.I kept my eyes focused on the spot between his.I couldn't bear making complete eye contact with him right now.Not with as overwhelmed as I was.The smirk on his face slowly turned into a cheshire grin.Malicious and intriguing at the same time.

"You're good at taking orders.I like that."

An odd feeling swelled in my chest.Pride,maybe?Whatever it was,I liked it.A lot.I felt a small smile grace my features as I nodded. "Only for the right people." My voice was a ghost of a whisper.His hand traveled quickly from my chin to my throat,squeezing it.Almost like a warning. "Only for me,got it?" My eyes were wide.They felt like they were going to pop out of my skull but I couldn't find it in myself to disagree with him.There was something about him that just made me want to listen,to obey.I nodded but he squeezed harder. "Yes what?" I took a shallow breath as I looked up at him. "Yes,Sir." MY voice was shaky and strangled with his hand around my neck but I was strangely okay with it. He released my throat and I took a gasping breath in,finding that I missed the pressure of his hands.My skin felt itchy and crawly without it.In that moment I had decided,against my better judgement maybe but I would do anything to keep Patrick's hands on me.

[krankittoeleven]

Snippet Sunday Saturday!

Look, if you are expecting me to be consistent about things...ever...you've come to the wrong place. LOL I have a bit to share from CH 13 of Water of Life, but I'm pretty busy the next couple days so its Snippet Saturday this week. Although, I guess it's Sunday now for some of you. LOL

Since this is long, part of it is under the cut. Slightly heavy convo, but nothing to warn against that you haven't already experienced if you've been reading the fic. As always, this is not the final form, it's subject to change, and a bit rough around the edges.

The third chest Vili picks is the smallest of Ubba’s and also the plainest, and for a moment Vili is filled with hope that this utilitarian looking box will hold the bandages he wis looking for, but as soon as he opens the chest he knows he’s opened the wrong one; and not just because of the smell, which is musty, and old and earthy.

At first Vili thinks that, for some reason, Ubba had been carrying around the untreated pelt of a small animal in his chest for quite some time, perhaps even in an absent minded way that might be concerning if he hadn’t soon realized that the burgundy lining of the chest was not actually the lining of the chest at all but cloth. A cloak.

Ubba’s cloak.

Or, what had once been Ubba’s cloak, before he had covered Vili with it as a makeshift blanket and doomed it to its fate a lifetime ago.

Reaching into the chest, Vili buries his fingers in the fur collar that had once been soft and fuzzy and had smelled so strongly of Ubba. Now it is rough and matted in places with mud and bits of crinkly leaves and what Vili is certain are spots of his own blood. Now it smells musky, like the earth after rainfall; like dirt, like leaves, like trees, like rocks, like—well, like being trampled.

Heart pounding in his chest, the scar there aching more than it has in a very long time, Vili stands and pulls the cloak up with him, the fabric unfurling like a flag, like a sail, like a dream, as it rises out of the chest like a ghost; his hands gripping the fur collar as they had once gripped that elk’s antlers, white knuckled and full of fear and a dawning realization—

“Have you found the bandages yet?” Ubba asks, his voice still far off but drawing closer as he speaks. Vili instinctively turns to the sound of it. How could he not? How could he not?

Ubba stops short as he rounds the corner into the room and he looks surprised, but Vili thinks maybe he doesn’t look surprised enough. He’s not forgotten about the cloak, Vili is certain of it. He’s only surprised that he had found it.

For a moment longer Vili holds it up between them, as if it were some finery that he had spotted at the tailor’s stall in a market, as if he wanted Ubba’s thoughts on it.

What do you think of the color? He would say.

It looks good on you. Ubba would reply.

As if they weren’t in the middle of another war, as if he wasn’t supposed to be looking for bandages instead of old memories; instead of old nightmares.

“I thought it was lost,” Vili says as he lowers his outstretched arms. He’d thought that in the rush to get him back to the camp it had been left behind and long forgotten. Ubba had never even mentioned it again. It had been just one cloak of many after all. “You went and found it?”

“Do not give me too much credit,” Ubba says after a gentle laugh, before closing some of the distance between them. “I did not know to look for it, but it did fall back into my hands. It had been found under the elk’s body when they moved it.”

In hindsight, that made a lot more sense then Ubba actively searching for it. He hadn’t meant to be wearing it that day, and Ubba hadn’t seen him wearing it.

“I kept it in case—”

“I died?” Vili finishes when Ubba’s words fail him.

“Yes. In case your past deeds were not enough. To prove to Eir that you had a good death.”

Vili snorts and looks down at his fur filled hands.

“I would have been the fool of all Valhalla,” Vili says, laughing a little.

“Death makes equals of us all, Vili. But even so, I am certain that Odin has a sense of humor.”

[asoulofatlantis]

Let me be completely honest with you. The only reason why I have a need to finish this game right now is because it would feel awful to start Final Fantasy 7 Rebirth without finishing the Remaster of Final Fantasy 8.

(And yes, in case I have not mentioned that before... I am ashamed to admit it, but I preordered FF7R(2) even tho I still to this day, hate FF7Rs guts. BUT - among other things - now that I have started that journey, I may as well go through with it till the very end. And if that means complaining through all 3 games that they suck then that is still an interesting way to play a game XD I might also add... I bought a PS5 just for FF16 and now its standing here and has not been used in months and there is hardly any game out there right now that I would want for the PS5 so... I might as well get al least FF7R(2) so the PS5 doesn't stand here for nothing ^^' IF I get the thing to work where I can play the game on my Computer via the might of the internet, I will do a live reaction for it. So you will have complain about this game live and in colors XD ALSO anyone in the mood of a prediction game? I say we do NOT get a Kiss in THAT scene and I dare to say Aerith will not die the way she should - not saying she is not dying at all tho. Anyone on the Tifa dies instead bandwagon? I mean, seriously... what if Clouds choice of who he is going to the Golden Saucer (or whatever it is called) with will end up deciding who is going to die? BUT what if Nomura as twisted as he is decided he sacrifice the one Cloud is dating in that playthrough and lets the other one live? I would not put it past him or this game to do that XD)

ANYWAY... lets get back to FF8. We have a Shumi to kill.

What kind of question is that? I was ordered to see the master - as you were I presume - so I am going to see him? And... you know... while I am at it... maybe... save the Headmaster? I am serious, why that question? Okay, sie was searching for the headmaster instead but still... it was a weird question. I mean... could they not come up with a better way to stop him in his tracks like: "Oh, you are here too? Do you search for the headmaster as well?" or something. But I guess I am just nitpicking here.

Its not like Cid didn't use us for this ridiculous "free Timber'" - mission too.

Here comes the big plottwist. The first one, that is.

Talking Squall out of his melancholy is actually Rinoas Job, but since I don't like her or the ship, I didn't bring her. Second in line for this scene would be Xell. So... yeah... I couldn't bring him either, even tho I do like him a lot. So third is finally Quistis, which I think is pretty hard, given how she was always there for Squall so far, even tho he never treated her nicely. But... not you see why I brought Irving along ^^'

Can I just leave without talking to her? XD

Pfff. I did it. *lol*

So... this is a pacifist city... but we get weapon-stuff here? ^^' ()Also... why is "Eyes on me" playing in the background? (The ball-version.)

I know its a JRPG thing to put people in leading positions without their consent but... Squall really has it rough ^^'

You can really not blame this boy for his abandonment issues. His father was never there (and likely never will be, because Laguna and Squall both suck when it comes to dealing with emotions and relationships XD) and so he didn't even know he had one until he was almost an adult. His mother died when he was born. Ellone, his sister-figure, was suddenly gone too. And he was stuck in an orphanage with crazy guys like Xell and Quistis and Seifer of all people ^^' Even tho he can not remember anything, his trauma is there.

I will repeat this a few more times in the future... but I will never understand how this ship ever actually happened.

I thought it nice that after all this time, we finally got an explanation to why Irvin was so dead set on Selphie from the start.

Here comes the next big plot twist by the way. We have all (Rinoa aside) been in the same orphanage! But... we can not remember? Why? Wait for the next big plottwist!

You know... I wonder how it must have felt for her, walking past Squall and the other but they were not remembering her at all. Must have been sad.

Since Squall is Lagunas and Rains lovechild... it kind of makes sense that there was a special connection between him and Ellone.

And here is our next plot twist! We use GF and that is why we have slowly but surely forgotten our past. OBVIOUSLY that plot twist has A LOT of holes in it tho. Like the fact that Squall, Seifer and Quistis would have needed to start out using GFs at rougly the same time, because otherwise they would have kept reminding each other of their past. Plus, as Xell was adopted and not mentioned by Quistis when she talked about entering the garden at the age of 10, he likely has entered the garden later and thus must have used GFs later so... he should still have remembered the other then and if Irving can kickstart their memories, why not Xell too?

Oh look! Another bombshell! I know all the secrets and I am still already exhausted XD

[tainted-wine]

Primal Dissonance

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

So anon was like:

And since I’m total ass at writing short drabbles, or maybe it’s because they called me senpai, I ended up with a whole-ass fic. This took a different route than planned but I hope you enjoy, anon!

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Dubcon, Pheromones, Mindbreak, Feral Hawks, Rough and Public Sex, Tit Abuse. This totally isn’t as dark as it sounds.

--------x--------

Hawks has been getting noisy. Not in the usual sense; he’s always a motormouth. No, he’s been making sounds that you’ve never heard him make.

At first you thought he was sick and something was irritating his throat, but on one occasion when you offered him water after hearing the sound, he almost looked offended. You concluded that it wasn’t an illness.

You later noticed that the noise often happens when it’s just the two of you together. During late night movie viewings at his place, he’d hold you close and release a constant hum, the vibrations from his chest and wings soothing enough to make you drift into sleep in his arms. You never saw the look of disappointment in his face as he decided to cuddle you for the rest of the night.

Just a few days later, he spots you during one of his patrols and presents you with a surprise expensive gift. A ruby pendant, the same brilliant shade as his feathers, was placed around your neck by gentle gloved hands.

“Hawks—why—what did I do to deserve this?” You asked while your eyes reflected the gemstone’s sparkles.

“Just wanted to give a pretty gift to my pretty girl.” He gave you a kiss, and waves of soft hums leave his mouth and into yours, flowing through your body, stimulating all of your nerves and triggering pleasant shivers. One makeout session later, and you both pull back to lock eyes. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you don’t even know what the hell he’s expecting.

You look to the side awkwardly. “Thank you, Hawks. It’s beautiful, but I…don’t have anything to give in return. This was a complete surprise, after all.”

His eye twitches, but he smiles and embraces you. “That’s fine, chickadee.”

A pigeon appears during your hug, and the soft coos emanating from it give you an epiphany.

“A pigeon! That’s what it is! You’re cooing like a pigeon!”

This time it’s his smile that twitches. Did you say something wrong? Whatever it is, he brushes it off with a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

That was also the day you noticed his rising body temperature. You asked once again if he was feeling ill, and at least this time he didn’t appear to be upset when he answered ‘no.’

On the next night you spent in his home, he—and you’re still not over this—took your hand and pulled you in for a dance. It wasn’t some silly jig in which he blindly moved to a random pop song, it was a slow classic love song, and he moved both of you in an elegant dance fitting for a ballroom.

It was the last thing you expected from the hero that normally took you on KFC dates or, if he had the time, reserve a spot at his favorite yakitori place. But there was no way you could say that you didn’t like the way his feet glided across the floor, wings acting as a living cape that made each of his movements look all the more graceful, and you followed his pace as best as you could.

You clung onto him more tightly than intended when he dipped you after a spin, sharp avian eyes boring into you before he buries his face in your neck, and that’s when you feel more than hear the cooing return. It’s a tune that never fails to make you feel so warm and safe; you have no idea how his gentle sounds have such influence over you.

He looks pleased by your relaxed state, pulling you back up and brushing a few stray hairs out of your face. “So?”

You smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I didn’t know you had such grace, Hawks. Now hurry up, or we’re going to miss the movie for tonight!”

You scampered off into the kitchen to prepare the popcorn, completely oblivious to the baffled look your boyfriend was giving behind your back.

A few days later and you’re more certain than ever that he’s coming down with something, because now there’s a constant sheen of sweat all over his skin, and his breath sounded labored even when he was just sitting around. Since he ignores all of your pleas to stay home for just a day or two, you come up with another solution. Hawks pouts like a child when you tell him that a little nature and clean air might restore his health, but he still accepts your offer for a date at a nature park because hey, spending a day in natural beauty with you sounds great.

You practically dragged him into a bus after telling him several times that he shouldn’t tire himself out prematurely by flying both of you there. One long scenic drive later, you both arrive at your beautiful destination. The park was huge and lush with flora of all kinds, from tree-filled paths to endless flower fields.

Exploring everything this paradise has to offer with Hawks sounds like a dream, but your main goal was to loosen him up and help him feel better, so you avoided the populated areas, passing the cycling roads, the play areas, the bug houses, all of the charming attractions until you reached the long stretches of vibrant colors. The flower park.

You and Hawks began a slow stroll hand-in-hand, taking in the seemingly endless blooms, the trees shedding petals onto the walkway—all of it served as the most delicious treat for your eyes.

But when you looked at the winged hero to see if he was enjoying the scenery as much as you were, you saw that he was staring at you. His face was slightly flushed, but you couldn’t tell if it was the result of his feverish temperature or if he’s finding this whole date very romantic.

“The flowers are over there, birdbrain,” you joked with a squeeze of his hand.

His wing wrapped around you and pulled you in closer, encasing you in his abnormal heat. “The only flower that matters is right here.” There was a rough breathlessness to his voice that made the otherwise corny line sound sensual.

And then the coos returned, bringing you back to that pleasant world where everything was warm, soft, and safe. The red feathers surrounding you quivered and rippled like ocean waves of scarlet. You were supposed to be making him feel at ease here, not the other way around.

A chorus of chirps snapped you out of your stupor. You broke out of the hypnotic embrace and spot a bunch of small bouncing figures in the white lilac tree in front of you. “Aww, look at all of the little tits, Hawks!” You point at the flock of singing critters.

Hawks snorted immaturely.

Before you could withdraw your arm, one of the Japanese tits flew over and perched on your still-extended finger, leaving you bug-eyed and your mouth agape. “Hi there! You’re a brave little guy, aren’t you?” You said softly, hoping not to startle it. It tweeted in response, fluffing up its black and white plumage as it looked up at you curiously. “Hawks! It’s so cute!”

Red wings bristled, but you were too enamored with the friendly bird on your hand to even look back at your boyfriend. It continued to sing, the tits sitting in the tree joining in to create an adorable medley of chirps, tweets, and peeps. “Such a nice sound, I never realized how amazing these little guys are.” You keep watching the beady eyes that stare right back at you, feeling the bird’s little feet move quickly as it adjusted itself to get more comfortable.

And with a powerful slug from a hardened red feather out of nowhere, the tiny tit is knocked off of your finger and sent flying like a fucking golf ball.

Your pointing hand was still out as you looked on, eyes and mouth now wide open in horror instead of awe. The poor bird managed to right itself before it hit the ground, flapping frantically to ride the light breeze and fly past its tree of brethren and off into the distance, its sloppy turns and sudden drops betraying how dazed it was.  

With your short-lived friend out of your sight, you turned to the man that ruined your magical bonding session, multiple negative emotions boiling inside you and ready to spill right onto this bastard. “Hawks!” You’re prepared to blow his ears off with every ounce of frustration, every concern that’s been plaguing you for the past week thanks to the strange changes that he refuses to talk about, but then you freeze.

The man’s face has darkened, eyes narrowed with its pupils shrunken into beady slits, lips pressed together in a tight frown—he looked enraged. But the terrifying look wasn’t directed at you, he was looking up at the innocent tits still residing in the tree and paying no mind to the violent treatment of one of their own. As his wings slowly spread with feathers sharpened, your chest constricted once you realized what was about to happen.

“Stop!” You threw yourself at him, grabbing at the outstretched limbs in a pitiful attempt to stop them, the bladed edges cutting your hands. It was still enough to shock and prevent him from launching any of the deadly weapons at the birds. You felt his feathers return to their soft fluffy state as he stumbled from your weight. “What the hell are you doing? What, are you pissed that it chose my hand instead of yours? The hell is wrong with you?”

Now he was aiming the glare at you, and you couldn’t help but shrink under the intimidation. His voice was shockingly low. “Just what game are you playing at here? Gushing over another bird’s song right in front of me?”

You eyed his still-expanded wings as you tried to make sense of what he said. “What?” Was all you could say.

“Here I was thinking you just had extremely high standards, but maybe you’re the type that likes to play hard to get, or make your guy jealous and see how he handles it.” He took a step toward you, and you took one back. “Well let me tell you, I’m not handling it very well.”

What he was implying would have made you burst into laughter if he didn’t look so threatening right now. “You’re…jealous? Of the bird that was on my finger?”

He laughed, or at least tried to, but the shortness of breath made him cough. The sudden anger must be worsening whatever has been making him hot and throaty for the past days. He needs to calm down for his own damn sake. “I guess I shouldn’t be, should I? Not for a girl who gets wet over any bird that does something as simple as approach her.”

“Excuse me?” Did you hear that correctly? No joke, did you really hear that shit correctly?

Hawks just keeps on going, taking your bewilderment as more mockery. “I give you something shiny, you don’t say anything.” A flash of several feathers and you feel your arms being pulled in front of you, the red tufts tying your wrist together.

“I put on a nice dance I practiced for, and you don’t say anything. Did you even notice that I cleaned and decorated the room that night?” You’re panicking from your tied hands and don’t see him fire another barrage that goes for your ankles, their tugs forcing you to lose your balance and fall hard onto the ground with a pained cry. Your hands are forcefully pinned above your head. “Hell, you seem to enjoy my song every time you hear it, so what’s the deal?”

While your heart is on the verge of exploding from its anxious beats, the gears in your head are spinning as you try to figure out how exactly this whole miscommunication even happened, but they keep jamming, filling your head with sparks and smoke of pure confusion. “What song? You haven’t been singing anything!” You yell as you fight against the feather-made cuffs around your hands and feet, but there was no breaking free. They suddenly felt as strong and durable as elastic metal.

Hurt flashes across his face and you don’t understand why goddammit, but it’s quickly masked with another scowl. “You mean the song that’s lulled you to sleep? The song that never fails to put you at ease every time? I can sense it, you know. How calm and pleased you feel whenever you hear it. I know it’s not the loud obnoxious tune of a songbird,” he glances at the tree that continues to emanate various calls as he kneels over you, nearly straddling your waist. Smart of him to keep his groin out of the range of your knees. “But you still enjoy it, right? I’m not too upset that you compared it to a shitty pigeon.”

You only stutter in shaky breaths as he lowers himself and presses all of his weight onto you, your eyes shut as he nuzzles your face lovingly. He feels like a furnace, the sweat from his face slathering onto yours from his rough rubs.

That’s when you smell something potent. You’ve picked up traces of it from him throughout the week, a strange but not unpleasant mixture of salt and sweet. You assumed it to be some sort of shampoo or cologne, but now it’s hitting you full force and it’s making your body…respond. With each inhale, the exotic scent sends a tingle down your abdomen and a release of wetness that dampens your clothing. What the hell is happening to you?

Hawks pulls away and sniffs the air. Your feminine aroma has him moan so suggestively that it makes your core heat up even more. “Oh, so this is getting you going?” He questions in a judgmental tone before something appears to cross his mind, and he laughs with a slap to his forehead. “I’m such an idiot. I’ve been doing this all wrong, haven’t I? You’re not a bird.” He kisses at the side of your face and licks the shell of your ear before whispering, “You’re a mammal. You don’t choose a mate by their pretty gifts or fancy dances.”

The lustful haze invading your mind almost distracts you from whatever is tugging at your pants and pulling them down. “H-Hawks…” You accidentally moaned. You were too out of it to even properly convey your worry. Your pants are removed and something tickles your hips to remove your panties next—that’s when you identify them as more feathers.

“With mammals, males just take what they want. They catch her, hold her down, and fuck her on the spot.”

You gasp when your lower body is completely stripped and exposed—a mistake—Hawks’s intoxicating smell rushes into your mouth and nostrils, making you clench and gush. He lifts himself just enough for the living binds around your wrists to pull and drag you off of the stone walkway and into the blooming batches. The flowers were just tall enough to probably hide you from anyone at a distance, but the winged man crawling over and sitting in front of your feet would easily give you away. “Hawks, someone…might see us,” you mutter.

He only chuckles. “Good, I want them to see. Are you little bastards watching?” He looks up at the lilac tree that now looms right over both of you. The resting tits have gone quiet, most likely intimidated by the large bird-human hybrid that continued to glare at them.

The response was ridiculous enough to temporarily free you from your trance. “I’m not worried about the birds, you dumbass.”

“Hmph, of course you’re not. You’d let them all join in if I’d let you, wouldn’t you?”

You have so many questions about how that would even work.

But you’re interrupted by the feathers around your ankles pulling your feet apart, easily overcoming your resistance and spreading you wide open for the hero in front of you. You have to look away from just how soaked you are, juices flowing from your swollen pussy and onto the soft soil, some of it sticking to your parted thighs in strands. The sight makes Hawks salivate.

“I’m at the peak of my rut and I’m tired of waiting. Gonna make you mine.”

It’s all he says before his entire mouth is on your cunt, tearing a startled cry from your throat. The peaceful sounds of the wind and rustling leaves are overshadowed by the absolutely filthy slurps, sucks, and growls between your legs. He was being a greedy savage that simply wanted to drink you up. There were no careful methods or patterns, just a hungry tongue that lapped at every inch of you and lips that sucked on anything they could grip.

You could barely even writhe from the onslaught, what with your arms pinned over your head and your feet held down so strongly that you couldn’t even move them across the dirt. You kept your sights on the rich colors of various flowers that encircled you as the sweet-smelling haze enveloped you again, enhancing your pleasure. Despite Hawks’ sudden loss of his oral skills, the feral nature of it all—the smothered snarls against your sex, the startling feel of his teeth carelessly grazing your sensitive flesh, and the lewd sight of his face covered in your glistening juices as his glassy eyes opened and stared into yours as he ate you alive—his voracity had you boiling over.

He gulped your essence loudly, welcoming every drop of the orgasmic flood into his mouth. All of the colors in your vision blurred more with each mind-numbing pulse. You weren’t even aware of the shameless wails that left you until the blissful waves finally subsided.

Once he had his fill, he finally pulled away from your mound and boy did he look like a hot mess. His cheeks were a deep red that was slowly spreading across his cum-covered face, a beady string of your fluids hanging from his lips before dripping off. He was climbing back over you and when the fuck did he take his pants off? He must have unbuttoned and removed them while he was licking you into heaven.

He still manages to look smug while he takes in your spent form, your slightly parted lips impossible to resist. Your mouth was suddenly locked with his, the breath you were desperately trying to get back stolen from you. And then the scent returns, this time accompanied with a powerful salted lemon flavor that assaults your taste buds. The taste of your own pussy was insignificant; his aroma in both your nose and mouth is nearly suffocating, your still-recovering inner walls already squeezing out more of your slick.

His tongue thrashes about in your mouth to paint his sweet saliva on every spot he could reach. You swallow it up thirstily and feel an immediate response in your throat that somewhat frightens you. Numbness overtakes your mouth and your throat relaxes completely; you felt like it was suddenly impossible to choke.

Hawks messily pulls away, breathing heavily and licking his lips. “Look at you. All it takes is a whiff and taste of a rutting male to turn you into a submissive little bitch.” You’ve never heard him speak like that, but like every action he’s taken since you’ve been at his mercy, it doesn’t fail to arouse you for reasons you still don’t understand. “Do you want some more? Hmm?”

You’re nodding before your crippled mind can comprehend the question.

The drugged kiss has you dizzy. You’re doing your best to keep track of his movements as he straddles your chest, his cock coming into focus and pressing against your lips. He doesn’t give you a command, you simply open up like a trained whore.

You’re moaning from the addicting taste of his length that pushes all the way to the back of your throat. Once his pubes are flush against your nose, your eyes roll back and you lose all sense of…everything. Everything except for that exhilarant fragrance and flavor.

Even as he begins to move in your mouth, your tongue swirls all around the sweet meat in an attempt to taste him all over. You’re throbbing wildly, but the feathers prevent you from bringing your thighs together for some much needed friction.

He was thrusting in and out at a pace that should have you gagging, but you take the pounding smoothly. Everything was murky, save for the pleasure that was slowly consuming you. You think the birds are singing again, maybe.

Something was smacking against your chin…rather loudly, you think. Hawks’s balls. How obscene, the way he’s hunched over you and fucking your face so roughly, but it’s hard to feel embarrassed when it’s all making you feel so damn good. Drool gathers and drips down your mouth. Your throat has become a second pussy, and he was fucking it like one.

The scent has your entire body on fire and you wish so badly that you could touch yourself. It was too powerful, each breath filling you with more burning tension. Your desperate whines came out as bubbly gurgles around his hammering dick. Your climax is dangling right at the edge. All you need is just the smallest touch on your drenched, deprived pussy.

His thick intrusion suddenly leaves your mouth, allowing oxygen to properly enter your lungs and for the pooling saliva to be swallowed. Hawks says something as you cough and sputter, but everything is still too muffled.

“Good……….not yet……….finish inside.” That was all that you were able to catch. You frankly don’t care. You immediately want his overpowering scent back.

When something pushes past the entrance between your legs, you cum instantly. Your scream is silent, or maybe you just can’t hear it, as your restrained limbs twitch like mad from the excruciatingly pleasurable contractions.

You’re already being fucked roughly while you’re still coming down from your orgasmic high. You’re rocked against the flowers and the soft earth beneath, your peaceful surroundings a stark contrast to the raunchy act currently taking place among them.

Hawks leans in once again, and you have to turn away and hold your breath because you truly felt like one more whiff of that mouth-watering smell would bring you the most euphoric death. His mouth drew closer to your ear, harsh pants in sync with his rapid thrusts. There’s no way a body was meant to handle so much stimulation, yet you didn’t want it to end.

You wanted this powerful man and everything that he had. You want him to fill your womb with his seed…bear his strong and healthy offspring…then let him take you all over again…

There’s a soft rumble that brings you back down to earth, clearing your mind just enough so that all of your senses work properly again. The smudged colors return to their original shapes, and the cooing that vibrates through both of your bodies can be heard loud and clear. His song.

“That’s it, baby. I’ve got you right here. Just give in to me.” Hawks sounds on the verge of losing his voice, weak and graveled, but his singing and hips aren’t letting up.

Finally, fucking finally, the feathers release your limbs. Ignoring how boneless they feel, you use all of your strength to wrap your arms tightly around his neck, and your legs lock right above his ass. You cling onto him like a parasite and moan freely, trusting his low and soft vocals to keep you grounded as his citrus aura captivates you again.

Your involuntary clenches ruin him and take him to his peak, several more hard and deep pumps bringing you to your final climax. Both of you cry out loudly enough to scare away the tits still resting in the tree, the small flock flying off to find a quieter perch.

--------------------

Good. That showed the little bastards.

Hawks smiled triumphantly as the small birds fled the erotic scene. Once he was certain that none of them were coming back, he returned his attention to you. Your chest heaved with each audible breath, your entire body drenched in sweat, just like his. He laid a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking lovingly as you close your eyes for much-needed rest after almost losing your mind.

He did it. He finally claimed you, and all he had to do was just show a little dominance…and expose you to a hefty dose of pheromones. It was clearly way more than you could handle—maybe the face-fucking wasn’t the best idea, but it looked like you were enjoying yourself enough. No harm done.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Hawks was a cool-headed man. He’s managed to stay calm and collected in the direst of situations. Still, when he slowly turns around to see a man dressed in the park’s staff uniform, blushing at the sight of a sweaty couple with no pants on among the innocent blossoms, he can’t help but feel just a wee bit fucked.

“H-Hawks? It’s really you? Wha-?” The poor guy is lost for words from the fact that he just found the number 2 hero banging someone in public.

Eh, he’s talked his way out of tighter spots.

With a smile, the winged hero sends a few feathers to his discarded pants and withdraws a pen from its pockets.

“How about a deal, buddy? An autograph from yours truly and a coupon for my merch. All you gotta do is walk away and forget what you just saw.”

[atalldrinkofcaprisun]

Don’t Wait For Me After I’m Gone (pt. 4)

silco x gn!reader - he didn’t die AU - tw: canon compliant violence, drug use - 18+

edit: I’m gonna keep posting. I’m too much of a perfectionist for my own good sometimes. ~theo

also on ao3 xx MASTERLIST

Four days. Nothing. No sign of Jinx, no word from Piltover about retaliation. Enforcers had all but vanished from the Undercity. Not even a whisper of the missing girl. Silco hadn’t known peace. He’d been mostly bed bound and unable to leave your shared bedroom unless it was for a few hours to walk around the room before it became painful. His eye eventually returned to its original color but took longer to shift from shimmer purple to its normal fire orange whenever he took his medication. One prick to the eye, another, larger injection to the arm. You helped with these injections more than ever before, kept an eye on the Last Drop and whenever Silco could spare you, you looked for Jinx.

Sevika had gone out looking earlier today and still hadn’t come back. You tried not to let that worry you too much, the lanes were still very much a no man’s land. At most a person or two could be seen walking with determined steps, head down. Tension hung though the poisonous air like a new layer of fog. Two days ago, people had been sent to set up our own barricades at the bridge, and any additional ports or entries. Piltover’s silence was deafening but it was only a matter of time. Retaliation wasn’t completely unrealistic.

From what Silco had told you once he was fully cognizant, The Council wanted to avoid violence by almost any means. That had been before Jinx’s attack. Both of the hands had been thrown down. Options low for both parties. Zaun, a new world all its own, chomping at the bit to prove it was just as strong as it threatened. Full of dissenters and its own complicated political landscape to contend with. Piltover, desperate to maintain profits and decorum. They don’t want their neglect to be broadcast across Runeterra, especially when they had reached such heights and claimed it was completely their own merit that put them there. Whatever their reputation now, it wasn’t ever going to be the same. The question was how much they were willing to lose.

You walked to the arcade once again, hoping that this little place that only Jinx’s inner circle remembered would be safe enough for your daughter to return to. You checked it every day. She wasn’t ever there and it had started to reek like a dead bird. You say on the ledge of some sort of shooting game, watching the dust float down through the pale light slipping through gaps of aging wood. Scratches of colorful graffiti glowing all around, dim in the dying afternoon.

“Where are you…” you breathed to the shadows.

Footsteps on cobblestones came from outside, a sound that normally wouldn’t snap you out of any state, but you looked out of the shattered window anyways, hoping to see a blur of blue and be swept into the bone crushing hugs you had grown to love. Instead you were greeted by a teenager, one of the rookies. New but not completely unknown. You were pretty sure his name was Vali or something along those lines. He came to a rough halt in front of the makeshift entry way, “Shit… Sorry… ran from… the Drop,” he wheezed, “Given… this…” he extended a hand, folding over to rest his other arm on his knees in a half squat.

You sauntered over, taking a taller stance and trying to seem commanding. Silco had started to teach you how to do that leadership impression thing he did when talking with anyone who wasn’t your family or Sevika. Taking the paper you nodded, “Thank you. Are things… still frozen?” Apparently you did well enough.

He gathered his facilities and looked down at the note between you, “Depends on what’s in that I expect.”

“Thank you all the same.”

He gave you a small smile, and nodded before heading off again, not without some grumbling. You watched him go down the street before turning towards the bridge, out of sight.

You’d remember him, give him something more important than running errands to do. You turned back into the abandoned building and returned to your perch. The message in your hands was Silco’s handwriting. The cursive curled around in black ink. Shakier than it normally was, you assumed he only allowed it to live because it was coming to you. With a careful flick of your finger you broke the seal and unfolded the message.

They have her. Come home.

You read the words three times over just to make sure you’d read it correctly. They have her. They have her. They? Without another second thought you tucked the note into your pouch and took off down the lanes, pelting though empty streets until you burst through the door, up the stairs and into the office.

Silco’s chair was facing the window with a curl of cigar smoke rising to the ceiling, “There you are.” His voice was more level than it had been since the factory, that silken hum that oozed confidence and control. You could hear it’s actual fragility, hidden in the margins of distinct consonants, “We are discussing the best way to get into the prison from our face. We could go around so they don’t expect it, but the resources that would cost might be too much to spend this soon in the game. They might not move her there today is the real issue.” He turned in his chair, immediately slumping in his throne, the lazy cat. You could see the tightness of his jaw. He wasn’t relaxed, but there was a task at hand and The King was holding court, “We need to find out where she is now, and who’s moving her and when. They’ve got three days on us from what the Talis boy’s letter demanded-“ His hands rifled through the papers on his desks. His brow was furrowed.

“Sil-” You tried to interrupt.

“I’ve already dispatched Chemtech suits to the bridge, and the Barons have been notified of our independence.” Silco talked on as if you hadn’t said anything, “We should have their support and if we don’t, well there’s always a lackey we can install instead. This is war, not trade disputes.”

“Silco-“ you tried again, just wanting him to look at you. If Jinx had been arrested, that would make everything very complicated. He was barreling through his plans, obviously distressed and even though you two were alone, he was speaking to you as if the entire crew was present.

“In two days, nightfall is going to have to be our moment to act.” He slid the lit cigar between his lips, taking a long drag, shuffling papers a moment before finding what he had been looking for. You grumbled a few select curse words under your breath before walking across the room and slapping you hand onto the paper he had been studying down onto the desk. The loud THWAP echoed as he finally looked up at you. Sea green and glowing purple met your own. The bags under his good eye were clear and his makeup hastily applied. He hadn’t even smoothed his hair back as meticulously. His soft natural waves, visible through the slap jobbed gel. You could see the worry carved into his sharp features.

Jinx was his pride and joy. Now she was taken from him, about to be thrown in Still Water, and he was desperate to get her back. You cupped his scarred cheek with your hand, gently brushing across his skin, “Are you alright?”

He looked around as if to make sure you were both actually alone before leaning into your touch, old habits dying hard you supposed, “No. Not in the slightest. I haven’t seen her since-“

The memory of Jinx sauntering off into the darkness played in the back of your mind, “I know.”

His hand covered your own on his cheek, “I feel responsible for her capture.”

“You weren’t going to hand her over-“

“She turned herself in.”

The silence that fell was heavier than all the stones they had used to build that damn bridge.

“She what?”

He reached into his breast pocket, extracting a piece of paper, folded in half and with bright oil crayon blue scribbled on the outside. He extended the paper to you, “This was in her loft.”

You took the paper and moved around the desk as you read the cover, moving to the same side as your partner.

Dad

The simple title with a smiling face and one crossed over eye. One of her favorite tags. The same mark was on the bottom of the mug and on his ashtray. You leaned against his desk as he leaned backwards in his chair, allowing himself despondency. You opened the note, holding it gently in one hand and the other going to run through Silco’s hair.

Dear Dad,

I know I accidentally killed you and everything, so to make up for that, I’m turning myself in! SURPRISE!! Now you won’t have to clean up after me or worry about me or anything! You can have Zaun completely Jinx free!

I’m sorry you died.

Lots of Love, Jinx

You could practically hear the chipper tone she would have said the words in. Unaware of the dismay she was creating by taking herself out of the picture that had just begun to become reality. You looked at him, “She just…left.”

“I don’t know what she could have been thinking.”

“Truly?” You raised a brow, “Silco. She shot you. Imagine the guilt she’s feeling, on top of Vi’s reemergence. How do we know her sister wasn’t involved with making her choose this?”

“How do you know it wasn’t my fault? I didn’t tell her at Vander’s statue, before she- I didn’t tell her enough. I was choking on blood and I couldn’t tell her-“ His hands covered his face and he hunched over, collapsing in on himself, “I failed her.”

You frowned, so many details you still didn’t know about that night, “You spoke with her at Vander’s statue?”

He sighed, “Yes. Well it wasn’t much of a conversation. I was… musing to myself. Shortly after the parley with Councilman Talis. Everything I had wanted was in view, the only obstacle being her. The Talis boy asked that I turn her over in exchange for Zaun… Impossible. I couldn’t do it. The thought of giving up my daughter… I finally understood what Vander had done. Why he had bargained with Piltover for scraps. A child… that love… She must have overheard me. One moment I was drinking from my flask, alone with my ghosts. And the next she was there, staring at me with… her glowing eyes. Eyes I had caused, pain I’d inflicted on her. The betrayal I saw in her face.” He paused, gathering his breath. The cigar he had been nursing long forgotten between his ring and pointer finger. You slipped it from his grasp with no resistance, resting it in the ashtray as you waited.

“She accused me of lying to her again, of doing exactly what Vander did to me. Before I could even respond she was holding me… under the water.” He looked up from his hands, but didn’t move his gaze from the ground, “She tried to drown me, and I didn’t care. I just wanted to tell her I could never… Never give her over to them. She’s mine. I raised her, cared for her. We don’t turn over our people.” the last statement lingered in this throat with a rumbling growl. You could almost feel the guilt he carried across his shoulders, a burden he held alone, “How could I do otherwise? I only want her to be happy. To be safe.”

You felt the lump in your throat form. Memories played like film in your mind. Sparkling eyes and small clouds of pink, glittering smoke. Silco’s smile reaching his eyes for the first time in days because of a squiggled drawing or mischievous giggle. Jinx’s head just visible on the shoulders of his coat, with limp arms dangling in the air, sleeping in Silco’s arms peacefully as he dutifully carried her to her bed Stern words with a significant lack of anger and soft chuckles at bratty antics. The familial bond Jinx shared with Silco in your mind's eye. Moments of domesticity and tears, debates and late nights all woven together. Your family needed each other. You crouched to force Silco to look at you again, “Silco. You are a good father. I know that, she knows that. I’m sure she thinks she’s doing what you want. All her life you’ve talked about Zaun. Was she right? No. But it’s very clear that she is more than just lost right now. Whatever the Shimmer did to her it isn’t done. You saw her eyes.”

“It’s more than that, lovely. She can… move so quickly now. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen as a side effect, untraceable until it’s too late. She’s stronger… silent… but you can see her mind racing so quickly. It’s like she’s on fire,” He spoke softly, “A fire I put her in.” The personal vulnerability tone. His walls falling down completely in your presence. Kingpin crown removed, the Burning Eye of Zaun, just a man. A father worried for his child and the world he was trying to build for her.

Zaun was for Jinx now. You watched as the plan breached his mind, like waves on a shore. The bare moment was gone, as he picked himself back together. His carefully bespoke mask slid back into place, “She comes back tonight.” Silco stated, getting to his feet finally, only slightly stiffened by the bandages wrapped around his chest under his shirt, “And Piltover will burn for what they’ve done to us.” He looked out the window, onto the street below. You came by his side, lacing your fingers in his and taking in the set of his jaw. The King returned. The war is waiting.

✨taglist: @anotherromanticpoet @supermegapauseloca @scarlettorch @waddles2020 @jennrosefx

[gukeobi]

New Beginnings (M)

pairing: werewolf!jeongguk x reader

genre: Slight angst, fluff (?), smut (jeongguk has a breeding kink, Alpha kink kinda, passionate jeongguk), kinda enemies to friends to lovers? lol 

words: 17.4k (i’m sorry)

warnings: blood mention, non present character death 

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It was cold. Fresh snow covered the soft forest ground in a sheet of pure white, some delicately resting on the branches of the bare trees that lived around you as more continued to fall from the sky above. The iciness burned your bare hands, leaving them red, flushed and numb as your excited giggles rang throughout the empty forest like a mantra. 

You were only four years old, and every year since your birth you would visit your grandfather at his cabin in the woods. Your mother, his only daughter, had passed during childbirth and afterwards he had secluded himself to a simple cabin in the woods that was miles away from any form of civilization to continue his independent research studies. He was a retired wildlife biologist, his motivation to continue his work in a professional setting dying along with his only child. 

“Don’t wander too far now, Y/N,” Your grandfather called out to you, watching you from the patio with a smile on his face and a cup of coffee warming his hands through his thick gloves. You turned back to look at him and nodded in response to his request, cheeks flushed and a smile so wide it hurt. It was times like these in which you reminded him so much of his late daughter, the sparkle in your eyes and the snow melting in your hair.

 The thought caused a sharp pang of hurt to spread through his chest. 

Turning back to the snowy fortress in front of you, you continued to make your way through the vast never-ending whiteness with no true end goal in mind. You collected anything that caught your eye--pretty rocks, fallen leaves, and even a small collection of hellebore flowers which were hidden behind a naked tree. With your treasures held delicately in between your chubby red fingers and arms tucked tightly against your chest, your tiny legs weaved through the forest in continuously growing elation. 

Your excitement was short lived, however, when your lack of awareness resulted in your foot getting caught on a fallen branch.

“Ow,” you whispered gently, watching as blood stained the whiteness below you almost immediately. Your knee scraped against a sharp rock hidden beneath the snow during your fall, the fabric of your pants tearing upon impact and the objects that were once held protectively against your thick warm coat were now scattered across the forest floor in chaos. With tears clouding your vision, your hands gripped your bloody knee gently. 

The sound of your quiet weeps seemed to echo in the otherwise empty forest, bouncing against the trees and coming back to mock you for your obliviousness to your surroundings. The slight rustle of the snow covered bushes across from you managed to draw your attention away from your injury briefly, though what you saw was not at all what you expected.

Standing between two trees was a wolf. Its sleek black fur was a stark contrast to the pure whiteness surrounding it, the midnight inkiness unable to camouflage itself from unsuspecting eyes. It was large, towering over you impressively even with its massive paws sinking into the snow below it, leaving depressions in their wake. Its hulking physique was intimidating, muscles visibly rippling underneath its thick winter coat as it stalked towards your tiny fallen figure. 

You watched in awe and slight nervousness as it stopped right in front of you. It’s head alone was almost the size of your entire frame, and it’s eyes never once left your flushed, tear stained face. 

“Hi,” you breathed, your voice small. Gently taking your hand, you held up your palm face up towards the wolf’s face, its nose cold and wet as it touched your hand before it slowly transitioned into warm, sleek fur as the wolf pushed its forehead into your palm. You ran your fingers gently across the wolf’s head, your tiny fingers dwarfed significantly, relishing in the warmth it brought. 

The first touch of the animal’s tongue on your injury stung, the roughness irritating the already inflamed skin. You whimpered, though watched silently as the wolf cleaned your wound like it would to one of its young. Looking back up at you once it was done, deeming your injury clean enough, its eyes flashed a brilliant shade of vermillion before returning to their dulled amber color as quickly as it came. 

Too engrossed in feeling the warmth of the wolf’s body temperature beneath your frozen fingertips, you were slightly startled when you felt it’s snout gently nudging your thigh, signaling for you to stand up. You followed without complaint, albeit a slight limp on your left leg, and brushed the snow that clung wetly to your clothes with your fingers before embedding your fingers back into the wolf’s warm, soft fur on its back. It led you back the direction you came, the trip silent except for the crunch of the snow beneath your feet as the cabin quickly came into view. 

“There you are,” your grandfather breathed, a smile plastering his wrinkled face as soon as you came into view. His eyes quickly drifted to the creature beside you, taking in it’s hulking figure and bright red eyes. He wasn’t worried or scared like you expected him to be, and instead lowered into a small bow to show his respects. The wolf followed suit, lowering its head before backing away from you to return to the forest; it’s home. “I was wondering where you ran off to, silly girl.” 

“Grandpa!” you giggled, running up the patio steps before crashing into his chest in a hug. The sun was quickly setting, casting hues of golden and soft rose onto the snow as you turned back to watch the wolf disappear between the trees once again. It was almost as if it was never there to begin with. “Did you see that? Did you?” 

“I did, my love,” He spoke to you, his voice gentle as he brushed stray hairs away from your face. Pointing to your torn pants, a frown found its way on his face at the sight of the raw, exposed skin. “What happened here?” 

“I was running through the snow,” you began, sighing at the warmth of the inside of the cabin as your grandfather led you to the kitchen. You sat down on one of the dining room chairs, watching as he grabbed a first aid kit from one of the cupboards. “And I tripped over a rock. It hurt pretty bad.”

Your grandpa hummed, listening to your story intently as he slowly disinfected the wound with antibacterial soap before taking out a bandage to cover it with.  “And then?” 

“And then this big wolf showed up out of nowhere!” you exclaimed, waving your hands high above your head to try to demonstrate. “He was huge, but he didn’t hurt me. He helped me. He licked my knee and led me back here.” 

“Did he?” Placing a bandage onto your knee, he chuckled as he gently took your small, cold hands in his own and led you from the kitchen to your bedroom. You quickly changed from your wet, outside clothes and into your warm sleep clothes, hopping into bed with a smile that didn’t seem like it was fading still on your face. 

“I have something to tell you, Y/N. Something important.” your grandfather spoke, his voice low as he pulled the covers up to your chest. By now the sun has fully set, the only light illuminating your room coming from the pale moonlight glow and the dulled bedside lamp. “There are many wolves out there, Y/N. Special wolves. They will never hurt you if you welcome them with open arms and an open mind.” 

With that, he placed a kiss on your forehead and turned off your bedside lamp, the door to your bedroom closing softly in his wake. Almost complete darkness welcomed you, the light of the full moon bathing you in it’s ethereal shine, and as you fell asleep that night you swore you could hear the distant howls singing you a lullaby. 

---------

  The coldness of the outside air was pleasant against your skin, the thick material of your hoodie sheathing most of the elements from your exposed flesh. You worked diligently on moving each box from the back of your car to the inside of the cabin, music playing quietly through your headphones to fill the quietness of the empty forest. 

You were now twenty-one, and it's been 3 months since your grandfather has passed. 

His death had taken a huge toll on you. You had stopped visiting him during the summer after your thirteenth birthday, school and relationships outweighing the desire to spend the three months you had free in the woods alone and not with your friends. Up until now you didn’t feel any regret in doing so, your relationship with him eventually fading into the only communication being handwritten cards sent every holiday or your birthday. Though ever since you found out about the news of his death the only thing you could feel was heartbreak and guilt. 

Stepping back outside you grabbed the last box out of your trunk, shutting it with a sigh before moving to finally go back inside. You were tired, lately that’s all you’ve been, and moving from the heart of Seoul to the forests of a forgotten city was harder than you’d originally envisioned it to be. The drive was long, the bright early morning sky fading into the depths of midnight before you could even realize, barely any stops made in between. The only thing you wanted to do now was rest. 

--------

Looking around the cabin it was exactly how you remembered it being, albeit desolate as the livelihood that used to thrive was now replaced with cold emptiness in the absence of its light. The dark tinted wood flooring was cold beneath your sock clad feet as you moved to light the fireplace, illuminating the living room in a light golden hue and filling it with warmth. 

There were many pictures lining the stone built around the fireplace, and you could recognize your face in some of them as you moved to pick one up. You ran your finger gently over the glass, brushing some of the built up dust away to reveal the image of you and your grandpa’s smiling face staring back at you. 

It was snowing in the picture, your faces flushed red and snow stuck in your hair. The memory of when the photo was taken was fuzzy, blurry at some of the edges but it still made your eyes well up; a small smile on your face as your tears hit the glass protecting it. 

Gently placing the picture frame back on the mantle, your eyes drifted to the other photos that lined the stone. One that managed to catch your eye was one of your grandfather, smiling like always and surrounded by three very large wolves. 

One was an earthy brown color, lanky and tall but still muscular and intimidating while the other a healthy mix of grey and white, specks of dirty brown littering it’s coat. The last one was slightly hidden, it’s obnoxiously large head peeking behind your grandfather’s shoulder shyly as it’s inky black coat contrasted nicely with the warm autumn background. It felt strangely familiar, though you couldn’t pinpoint why. 

Your grandfather always talked about the wolves that roamed the forest in which he lived and how they were special, different. You never truly understood what he meant by that, though you assumed he had simply built a relationship with the creatures as he focused his studies on them and their behaviours. 

You tried not to dwell on it too much. 

Shaking your head you placed the photo back where it was on the fireplace, taking one last look at your new home before putting the fire out and getting ready for bed. 

------- 

In the morning you were rudely woken up by the sound of somebody knocking on your door. It was strange, you thought, nobody came by these parts by chance and the closest neighbour you had was miles away. You doubted if they even really cared if somebody new moved in overnight, though you assumed news spread fast in small areas like these. Furrowing your eyebrows, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes before quickly answering the door. 

What greeted you were two men, one noticeably taller than the other with dirty silver blonde hair and kind eyes that seemed welcoming. The other had hair the shade of night, with cat-like eyes that made you more uncomfortable the longer you looked at them. Both were wearing simple clothes, though arguably not appropriate for the freezing weather. You shifted nervously. 

“Can I help you?” you spoke, voice slightly raspy from sleep. The coldness of the early morning air nipped at your exposed arms, your simple t-shirt not doing much to shelter you from the cold as it entered into your home. Your eyes drifted to the taller one of the two as he spoke. 

“Hi, my name is Namjoon and this is my brother, Yoongi.” he spoke, eyes crinkling at the sides as he smiles at you. He has a gentle smile, you think. “We live a couple miles up the street and heard of somebody moving in. You’re new around here, yes?” 

He spoke eloquently, obviously educated and smart judging by the way he chose to present himself, but there was a slight disconnect with his words--  a slur to his accent you didn’t recognize. One you couldn’t point out. 

You nodded in response to his question, a polite smile on your face. “I just finished moving in yesterday.” 

Something felt off, they felt off. The shorter one of the two, Yoongi you remember his name being, you caught his eyes wandering-- drifting past your shoulder in a futile attempt to see inside your home. Shifting uncomfortably, you leaned your shoulder against the wooden door frame in an attempt to block his view. You didn’t know where this conversation was heading, and you really didn’t want to find out, either. 

The taller one, Namjoon, opened his mouth to speak before he was quickly interrupted. 

“The old man that used to live here,” Yoongi began, eyes narrowing at you underneath his fringe. His voice was relatively monotone, yet somehow aggressive and accusatory. “What happened to him.” 

Namjoon whipped his head around to look at the shorter man, eyebrows furrowed and expression tight. The frustration was evident in his voice as he quickly turned back to you, “I apologize for him-” 

“It’s okay,” you waved off quickly, though slightly hurt by the bluntness of his tone. Clearing your throat you fought hard to fight back tears, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of strangers by completing breaking down. You let out a small sigh before continuing, “My grandfather, he passed away a couple months ago. He left all of his belongings to me in his will, so I-I wanted to move in to make sure nothing happened to his home and research.” 

At that, both of them seemed to deflate in relief, their shoulders less tense-- though at the mention of the word ‘grandfather’ they seemed to be more intrigued. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Namjoon spoke, his voice low. He stuck his hand out in a handshake, his palm large against your own smaller one as you gripped it gently. His hand was warm, incredibly so, despite the freezing temperature he was standing in. “I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through right now and I apologize for intruding.” 

“Thank you,” you replied, the warmth of his palm comforting. “Would you like to come in for some coffee? Tea?” 

“We would love to,” Looking regretful, Namjoon turned to look at Yoongi briefly, the latter’s eyes never once leaving your face. “But we should really get going. Next time, maybe?” 

Smiling, you nodded your head in agreement. “Next time, then.”

You watched silently as they left, your hands stilling on the door as you went to close it. They had stated earlier that their home was miles away from yours, yet you didn’t see them getting into a car or any mode of transportation to make their way back-- instead the sound of their shoes crunching on the gravel of your driveway as they walked seemed to echo in the quiet early morning air. 

Furrowing your eyebrows you shook your head, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The whole interaction left a weird taste in your mouth, though you attempted not to linger over it too much, unsure if you’d realistically ever see them again. Closing the door with a dull thud your bare feet padded against the cold wood flooring as you made your way to the living room, relighting the fireplace with a match to help fill the room with much needed warmth. 

------ 

You spent most of the day unpacking your things. The interaction early this morning with Namjoon and Yoongi was pushed to the back of your mind now as you attempted to settle in. Surprisingly enough it wasn’t as difficult as you initially thought, though you guess you can place it on this place being your second home for thirteen years of your life. 

As the cabin was located semi remotely and the nearest town wasn’t anywhere close to you, your grandfather had built a tiny farm in the “backyard” to produce his own food. He refused to hunt live animals to eat, his reasoning being he didn’t have the heart to do so; a lifestyle you adopted from him during your younger years. Putting on a thick, warm hoodie to help combat the chilly winds you ventured outside to check on it. 

What you expected to see were rotting and decaying plants, seeing as there had been nobody around to take care of them for months.

 But they weren't. 

The fruits and vegetables looked as fresh and healthy as they could be, vibrant against the dull earthy ground they grew on. There had to be a logical explanation for this, produce couldn’t have survived as long as they have without being eaten by wildlife or destroyed by the elements and lack of care. Getting down on your knees, you moved to check the roots of the plants for any disturbances or ruptures when you heard it.

Behind you there was the snapping of a twig, the sound irritatingly loud in the otherwise quiet forest. You stilled, breath hitching in your throat as you tried to process what was happening. Perhaps you were being paranoid, you thought. You lived in a forest, there were wild animals all around you and one twig snapping shouldn’t warrant such a reaction. 

That was until the sound was followed by a low growl. It was quiet enough to not be heard if you weren’t paying enough attention, but loud enough to make the hairs rise on the back of your neck. Turning your head slowly, the first thing you tried to do was figure out who, or what, was there before turning your body completely. 

Standing about 10 feet away from you was a wolf. It’s coat was as black as a clear night sky, sleek and silky yet slightly matted with the only color being the dulled amber of its eyes. Its snout was pulled back in a snarl, the stained whites of its elongated canines taunting you while its eyes stared directly at you in aggression. 

You remembered distinctly about the values your grandfather instilled in you when you were young, to be gentle to the wolves that live on this land and to approach them with respect. So you raised the palm of your hand silently-- the situation eliciting a strange sense of deja vu--the act in itself a sign of non aggression. 

It didn’t work. 

The wolf’s growls got progressively louder as it stalked towards you, it’s massive paws sinking heavily into the earth below. You didn’t have time to react before it lunged for you, the plants behind you smothering behind as you fell back, the smell of blood penetrating the air as the thorns of the blackberry bush behind you pierced your skin. The palm of your hand stained a deep wine red. 

It’s growls seemed to reverberate in your skull as saliva dripped from it’s bared canines and onto your cheek, it’s hot breath making you choke up in fear. The feeling of it’s heavy paws on your chest made you feel like you were suffocating, pushing you further into the wet soil. 

You were scared. Unbelievably scared. The adrenaline and panic was pulsing through your veins like blood, hot and thick and circulating your entire body without pause.

It’s only been a day and you’re already staring at the face of death. 

“Please,” you begged, your eyes wet with tears as they fell down into your hair and mixed with the soil below. To whom or what you were pleading to you did not know, your eyes slowly drifting from it’s bared teeth to your own pitiful reflection staring back at you in its eyes. The creature seemed to falter at the eye contact, eyes widening a fraction before you see it’s nose wiggling from your peripheral vision. 

Slowly you could see the wolf’s snarl fade, it’s large paws stepping off your chest and back into the wet earth as it continued to back away from you. You were scared and confused, your body terrifying still until you heard the sound of branches snapping and leaves crunching as the wolf made its way back into the forest where it came from, sparing one last look at your fear-stricken form before disappearing from your view completely. 

You lied there silently for what felt like an eternity, your hands shaking as they gripped the dirt, the pain from your cut dulled from shock. Getting up quickly you rushed inside, taking off all your clothes and turning the shower dials to the hottest setting. It burned, your hands still slightly trembling as you scrubbed yourself roughly and watched as the water ran down the drain pink before eventually turning clear. The shower didn’t do much to calm your nerves. 

--- 

“This was a bad idea,” you mumbled to yourself, brushing your wet hair away from your face with your hand. There was a heavy bandage wrapped around it, the wound not as painful as it was a couple of hours ago but still pulsing painfully if you moved it the wrong way. You stared blankly at your bedroom wall, your thoughts blank as you noted with dull interest how the light birch color contrasted nicely with the darkly tinted wood flooring.

 Maybe you should have stayed at your apartment in Seoul. It was safe there, arguably so, and you could’ve collected all your grandfather’s belongings and had them stored somewhere rather than secluding yourself away from the rest of civilization like a recluse. 

But the guilt of abandoning the last familial connection you had with your mother out of teenage stupidity really weighed down on you, keeping you up at night and consistently plaguing your thoughts. You had originally thought that moving here into his cabin and protecting, perhaps continuing, his wildlife research would bring you some sense of closure or relief. Maybe you were wrong. 

 Letting out a deep sigh you moved to open a drawer on your bedside table, pulling out an old faux leather bound book. You had found it in your grandfather’s study while you were cleaning out some storage, tucked neatly in a hand built bookcase between a plethora of others that looked vaguely similar. The only difference was the golden wolf stamped onto the spine and cover, reflecting beautifully as the light from your lamp bounced off of it. 

When you ran your finger over the design it felt smooth beneath your fingertips, stunningly beautiful yet the only thing you could think of when you saw it was the beast that almost killed you earlier today. 

Opening the book gently, what greeted you was the illustration of a howling wolf-- the black ink contrasting the off-white page with the word ‘Lycanthropy’ written below it. You ran your finger over the ink, feeling the coarseness of the wrinkled paper as you diligently flipped the stained pages, each one filled with notes, sketches and anatomy studies of what your grandfather deemed ‘lycanthropes’. 

Of course you had entertained the idea of werewolves when younger, though once you were out of your preteen years you had scrapped the idea entirely as you knew it was biologically impossible. But when your grandfather was alive all he talked to you about was the wolves and how special they were, how they were different. You were young at the time so of course you didn’t question it, though now you didn’t know what to think. Your whole reality and what you knew to be real, not real or just simple folklore used to entertain and scare children was being flipped on you and your mind was a muddled mess.

 If these creatures actually existed, these werewolves--or lycanthropes as your grandfather so politely called them-- what stopped other things like vampires and witches from being real too? 

You shut the book in haste, anger quickly replacing confusion as you clenched your fists. What you were angry about you didn’t know, but you knew you weren’t going to let this go easily. You needed answers, and you were going to get them. 

-------- 

It’s been several days since your encounter with the wolf and the discovery that werewolves were, in fact, real. Or, so you assumed. You haven’t been outside since the attack, holding yourself up in the study to read every book that lined the shelves and sort through every scrap paper abandoned on his desk in an attempt to find answers. 

The early morning sun was beaming through the window, warm against your face as you slept peacefully. You’d fallen asleep in the study again, your face squished up against the cold wood of the desk and the ink stained papers after a long night of reading and studying. It was nothing like you’d ever seen before, every detail about every living and non living thing that dwelled in this forest was written and logged into separate books and carefully stored so they wouldn’t get ruined or lost with age. 

You blinked your eyes sleepily, stretching your arms above your head as you winced at the pain in your neck from sleeping in an uncomfortable position for days. There was an awful taste in your mouth and a pounding headache making your eyes squeeze shut in pain, the bright sunlight streaming through your window not doing much to help with the dull throbbing in your head. You suppose the lack of food, water and sleep finally caught up with you. 

Rubbing your temples with your fingertips you vaguely remembered reading about a natural migraine remedy that grew in the forest somewhere in one of your grandfather’s books. There was no asprin here, so you had to make due with what you had. 

Quickly sorting through the mess of papers on the desk you found what you were looking for, an old looking book with various plants huddled together stamped in golden ink on the front cover and spine. You flipped through the pages, finally locating a detailed illustration of the peppermint herb you needed and a description of its uses located directly below it.

You got ready quickly, changing clothes and taking care of your hygiene before grabbing the book you needed off the kitchen table and making your way to the back door. Before you could place your hand on the handle you froze, a sharp pain irritating your palm as you clenched your fist at the memory of the dangers that lurk within those woods. You weren’t as scared as you used to be, more educated and less naive than you were before but the weariness was still there. 

The metal handle was cold against the palm of your hand, the outside air welcoming against your face as you stepped outside. The weather was more forgiving than it used to be, the sun shining bright overhead and the temperature pleasantly warm. Your shoes touched the forest floor for the first time in what felt like forever, the book you needed tucked protectively underneath your arm as you made your way through the forest. 

It was hard to identify the difference between the herbs at first look as they all looked the same to the inexperienced eye, though you diligently tried your best. 

Bending down, your knees touched the wet earth as you sorted through the bushes, comparing the leaves to the ones that were sketched onto the pages. It wasn’t long until you heard the slight rustle of the bushes behind you, your fists tightening around the pages of your book. 

“You can come out you know,” you began, plucking the peppermint leaves off their stem before getting up and turning to where the sound originated from. “I know you’re out there.” 

You heard it before you saw it. It’s low growl pierced the tense air as it finally exposed itself to you, the same massive paws that pinned you to the ground and made you choke on your own fear left dents in the moist forest floor as it stepped from behind the trunk of a young redwood tree. It’s teeth were bared in a sharp snarl, its once dull amber eyes now a brilliant shade of vermillion as it stared at you in distrust. 

“I know what you are,” you spoke, voice wobbling as tears clouded your vision. “You’re a lycan. A werewolf.” 

The lycan’s growls grew louder at your confession, the hairs on it’s back rising and it’s posture getting defensive. You recognized the wolf from the one in the picture resting above your fireplace, it’s then shy gaze replaced with a look of distrust.

 It seemed just as angry and confused as you were, yet you didn’t know if that comforted you or not. 

“My grandfather, Il Sung, you knew him didn’t you. He studied your kind for years and recorded everything in his books and you let him.” The lycan seemed to falter at that, it’s posture slackening slightly-- caught off guard. You decided to test your luck, slowly stepping closer and watched as the lycans growls continued to grow, though they didn’t seem as threatening as before. “You let him because you trusted him, and he trusted you. I moved here to protect his home, his research, and by extension that means you!” 

You shook your head, the anger bubbling inside you quickly rising to the surface as hot tears stained your cheeks.  “I’m not scared of you, you beast. Why would I be?” 

Tension quickly rose, the once pleasant air now suffocating with each word that passed your lips. “You’re a coward! Nothing but a sheep in wolf’s clothing.”

Your voice echoed in the otherwise quiet forest, every emotion that you’ve managed to keep at bay and hidden inside of yourself spilling out without your consent. The anger, the guilt, the sadness-- all of it. “I have done nothing to you. Nothing! Yet you come into my home and threaten me? Me?!” 

The lycan’s growls stopped completely, it’s posture relaxing and it’s eyes returning back to their normal bronze shade as the only sound reverberating off the trees was your emotional mess. There was a quiet pause before you continued. 

“I’m not here to hurt you, ” you began, never once breaking eye contact with the creature in front of you. “I loved my grandfather more than you could know, and I’m just as hurt and confused about everything that’s happened as you are. So please, just give me a damn break.” 

The silence following was deafening, you both didn’t dare to move as you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity-- both of you standing your ground. Your face was flushed with tears as you watched in confusion as the wolf trekked closer to you, it’s movements cautious and slow. The closer the lycan got the more you noticed how large it was, reaching up to the center of your belly in height with muscles rippling through its inky black coat at each step it took. It was more intimidating than you’d admit to yourself. 

The first touch of it’s wet nose against your palm made you flinch.

 Yesterday you had finally removed the bandage from around your cut, opting to let it breathe and putting a natural ointment on it to help the healing process. It was still relatively fresh, only a few days passing from the time you had received it to now, so it stung slightly at the first pass of the lycan’s rough tongue. It’s ears were slightly pinned back as it licked your wound, looking more like an oversized dog than the beast that tried to kill you a week prior. 

Your left hand, the one that was uninjured, shook slightly as you raised it, your fingers carefully embedding themselves in the silky fur of the lycan. It stilled at the feeling, a low growl vibrating through its body before it continued its ministrations. When it was finished it stepped back slightly, its eyes flashing the same bright red it had before when it first showed itself to you.  

Stepping back, your hands felt cold in the absence of the lycan’s warmth, fingers clenching in a fist as you furrowed your eyebrows. The headache from earlier seemed to come back worse than it originally was earlier, the bearing sunlight suddenly too harsh on your eyes. 

This whole situation was oddly familiar, and it confused you. A lot.

You moved to make your way back to the cabin without another word or sparing glance, weaving through the trees and leaving the lycan abandoned far behind you. 

------- 

   Early the next morning you found yourself in the garden. The weather was still pleasantly warm, a slight breeze leaving goosebumps along your bare arms as you worked on plucking the ripe fruits and veggies from their stems and throwing away the rotten ones. Your headache from yesterday had eventually subsided after following the instructions written down for you, a fairly tiny jar of peppermint oil managing to save you from a night-long nightmare. 

It wasn’t long after that you heard it’s arrival. Although the crunch of fallen leaves no longer scared you with it’s rather cliche implications, you were still surprised to see the familiar figure of the wolf with an inky black coat standing in the treeline. 

“You’re back,” you breathed, shock flooding your features as you watched it saunter towards you. It stopped relatively close, only about six feet away from the garden where you were kneeling. At first you were unsure if it even heard you, though the huff that passed it’s lips as it sat down quietly to bask underneath the afternoon sun proved otherwise. You noticed its auburn eyes following your every move; watching, observing, thinking. 

 Knowing there was somebody residing underneath that wolf’s skin made you feel vulnerable and exposed underneath it’s heavy gaze, the lycan never once moving from its position underneath the sun. Originally you thought that somewhere in the study there would be records of the wolves that lived in the forest; their names, photos, drawings-- anything. 

You found nothing. 

It frustrated you more than you’d like to admit. No matter how much you read or studied, you still felt completely naive to the world suddenly shoved in front of you. 

“When I was younger, every summer I would come here to visit my grandpa,” you suddenly spoke, eyes intently trained on the tomatoes you were currently picking. The lycan didn’t seem to make any moves at the sound of your voice. “And all he would talk about was the wolves. It was always about the wolves.”

Getting up, you brushed the soil off your pants before turning to face the wolf completely, it’s gaze never leaving yours as you spoke. Sighing quietly, you rested the basket of freshly picked produce against your hip to close your eyes and collect your thoughts.

 It felt nice to talk to somebody after being alone for so long, even if they couldn’t talk back. 

“My mother died shortly after my birth,” you explained, moving to set down the basket on the edge of the porch. You chuckled lightly, wringing your hands together as your gaze moved to look at the clear blue sky above, tears brimming your eyes. “And my father, he hoped that by sending me here I-I would have a chance to have a connection with my mother’s side before it was gone completely.” 

Your voice was quiet as you continued. “And I gave that up for my own teenage selfishness” 

It was quiet for a long time after that. None of you moved, the birds chirping high in the treetops as they mingled together and the distant sound of rabbits running through the brush filling the void. You swung your legs thoughtlessly as you sat on the edge of the porch, the rough material of your jeans shielding you from any unnecessary splitters as your back touched the cold, rough wood when you lied down. 

You spoke up after a while of silence, voice low and impersonal as you focused on the gentle swaying of the trees. “If I could go back and spend more time with him I would, y’know?” 

The wood was rough on your elbows as you got up to rest on them, your gaze once again returning to the lycan. It still felt so surreal. “But I can’t. So I just have to make due with what I have left now.” 

You got up without another word, grabbing the basket of fruits and vegetables and moving to make your way back inside. Turning around, you watched as the wolf followed your every move with its eyes intently, a silent goodbye resting on your tongue as the door shut behind you. 

----- 

It’s been a month, and you were adjusting quickly. 

Your routine has stayed fairly the same the entire duration; during the day you would venture out into the forest to collect herbs and spices or sit on the porch underneath the warm sun, while your nights were spent locked in the study with a dull lamp glow illuminating the stained white pages. It was comfortable, you were comfortable.

Surprisingly enough, the lycan would continue to come by everyday. Whether you were taking care of the garden or sketching quietly on the porch-- it would come. At first its presence would slightly bother you, seeing as it would sit in the exact same spot everyday and just stare at you while you worked, but gradually with each passing week you managed to get more relaxed with each other. 

“What do you think?” you said, turning the sketchbook over to show the wolf the portrait sketched on it. The lycan was laying on the porch next to you, head resting between its paws and it’s coat shining underneath the glaring mid-day sun. It wasn’t too hot per say, but you couldn’t imagine the summer heat felt too good on its thick dark coat. 

Lifting its head up the wolf looked at your drawing, a huff passing it’s lips as its tail wagged back and forth slowly against the wood. It’s large paw rested on your thigh as it stretched, a low whine catching your attention as it’s large head moved to rest on your lap. You smiled, setting down your sketchbook and pencil next to you before entangling your fingers gently in the fur of its back. 

It was still kinda shocking how fast your relationship blossomed. One day the lycan refused to be more than a couple feet away from you and growled whenever so much as raised a hand to touch it, the next it whined if you didn’t want it’s head in your lap. If you were being completely honest with yourself you didn’t know how to feel about this. 

There was still somebody in that wolf, thinking, watching, feeling--and you didn’t know their name or who they were. Hell, you didn’t even know if it was a man or a woman. 

Sighing, you closed your eyes for a short moment. You felt wrong for looking, truly you did, but curiosity managed to get the best of you in the moment. 

It was a man. 

You didn’t know if that made you feel better or not. 

-------

The next day wasn’t like anything you expected. 

Your morning had started off slow, an awful crick in your neck from falling asleep with your head in a book for the third time in a row that week. It was approximately noon when you got out of the shower, feeling more refreshed than you were an hour prior and a cup of freshly made peppermint tea warming your hands. The only plans you had for today were to get more ginger root and yarrow to help with some of the dull pain from your cut, the wound healing up nicely so far--though you suspected there will be a scar left behind. 

When you had exited your cabin you had expected to see the lycan sitting waiting for you like he always does, but the spot he had claimed as his was cold and empty. You tried not to overthink it too much, albeit you were a little disappointed at the lack of company as you weaved through the trees. 

It was about an hour since you had first left, sweat started to bead at your forehead as you looked for the herbs you needed quickly. The leaves from the trees above helped shelter some of the sweltering heat and provide some shade, though your clothes still continued to stick to your body unpleasantly. 

There was an uncomfortable feeling steadily creeping up your neck, your hands stilling on the forest ground as you strained your ears to listen for anything that may be off. Behind you there was suddenly a low growl, the sound of stray twigs snapping under immense weight. 

You had thought that it was just your lycan friend--you’ve yet to actually learn his name yet, you were still working on it--fooling around and trying to scare you like he used to do. Smiling, you stood up and turned around. 

That was your first mistake. 

Gasping, you stumbled back out of fear. Standing there was a wolf, a fairly large one at that, with muddy red fur and a deranged look in its eyes as it snarled at you. It’s growls got louder as it stalked closer to you, the fur on its back raised and saliva flying from it’s canines as it barked at you in aggression. 

Your heart was beating erratically against your chest, fear coiling around your throat like a snake and tightening so hard it felt like it was hard to breathe. You stepped back, your movements slow and steady in an attempt to not show any signs of aggression--the creature not slowing any signs of backing down as it continued its advancements towards you. 

The wolf lunged at you unexpectedly, it’s jaws snapping a few inches away from your lower stomach and saliva splattering against your thighs. Fear took over as you ran, thorns and branches whipping at your exposed legs and creating blistering marks in their wake. Your lungs burned painfully, the sound of the creature quickly catching up taunting you as you attempted to outrun it. 

You were foolish to think you could outsmart a creature of speed and agility, tears of frustration and fear burning your cheeks as they fell and disappeared on the forest floor. Before you could register what happened there was sharp pain in your leg, your screams piercing the silent forest. 

There was blood. A lot of blood. Your hands shook violently as they touched the cold metal of the bear trap currently hooked in your leg, the pain immeasurable and quickly spreading throughout your entire body with no signs of rest. 

“No, no, no!” you cried, shaking your head violently and attempting to pry the trap off of you. It ended up just causing you more pain, blood dripping from the wound and soaking the dirt below you. 

The growls were back, louder than before as the creature busted through the foliage with a murderous look in its eyes. It’s barks and snarls ridiculing you as you hysterically tried to rip the metal off, hot tears running down your face and your cries getting lost in the ruckus. 

 The thought of dying out here, alone, broke your heart. 

Everything felt distant, you could feel yourself passing out. The only thing you could discern from your quickly blurring vision was two large figures on the ground, fighting and snarling through a clash of bared teeth. You couldn’t hear anything through the ringing in your ears, the sickening crunch of bone being the last thing to echo in your head as your chest heaved slowly and your fingers turned cold. You watched drearily as the figure pinned underneath the other fall limp against the ground. 

The last thing that entered your peripheral before you blacked out was glowing red eyes surrounded by inky darkness.

---------- 

  It was quiet, the only sounds in the room being your gentle breathing and the rough scratching of a pen against paper. Your fists clenched around the softness of the blankets swathed around you, the sun harsh against your eyes as you blearily opened them and grimaced at the awful, stale taste in your mouth. A headache was consistently pounding against your head, mingling with the dulled pain coming from your leg that made you whimper quietly. 

“You’re awake,” somebody said beside you, their voice loud in the otherwise quiet room. There was suddenly a warm hand on your forehead, feeling for a temperature briefly before it left just as quick as it came. “I’m glad. You’ve been out for awhile now.” 

Panic struck your entire being at the foreign voice, your eyes squinting as you attempted to look at the source through your blurry vision. It was a man, he had a somewhat baby face which was accompanied by broad shoulders hidden underneath a plain black t-shirt; his dark hair falling over the worried look on his face when he leaned over the bed to look at you. 

“Who-who are you,” you asked, your voice wavering as you attempted to back away from the stranger. There was a sharp pain in your leg as you quickly sat up, moving to push yourself against the corner of the bed in an attempt to get as far away from him as possible. “Where am I?”  

“Calm down, it’s okay,” He spoke, his voice gentle as he raised his hands to not show any harm. His eyebrows were furrowed underneath his hair, a deep frown on his lips as he moved his gaze down to your leg that was hidden beneath the sheets. “My name is Seokjin, I’ve been helping you recover from your injuries the last few days. Do you remember what happened?” 

Shaking your head, you wrung your hands in the blankets uncomfortably as you tried to process the situation. Your memory was extremely foggy, bits and pieces at the forefront of your mind but nothing too significant. A ll you could remember was the feeling of the wind burning your lungs, how the tears felt as they burned your face and the absolute fear that consumed your entire body.

You stared at the door a couple feet away from you, thinking of a way to get as far away from this person as possible. Realistically you knew that even if you tried to run you wouldn’t get that far, your injury preventing you from doing so. That couldn’t stop you from trying, though. 

“Please don’t do anything you’re going to regret,” Seokjin sighed, following your line of sight. When he looked back at you his eyes were a vivid shade of gold, almost like the wild dandelions that were growing near the edge of your cabin, your own widening in shock. 

You remembered reading somewhere about the varying eye colors of lycans and what they signified, the different ranks present in a pack. Contrary to popular belief a pack’s dynamic wasn’t based on the submissiveness of those considered to be weaker or inferior, rather it was a system built on the caring nature of a single lycan’s personality-- if they were born leaders or natural caretakers at heart.

 Omegas were blessed with yellow eyes that resembled the early morning sun and are generally the most caring, often given the weighty responsibility of caring for young pups or tending to the injured. Betas had eyes the color of the deep ocean and are regarded as the peacekeepers, the safety net. They’re calm and do most of the logical thinking. 

Then there’s Alphas. They have taunting red eyes and are the primary leaders, usually bigger and stronger than the rest of the pack to make sure everybody stays in line instead of going awry or rogue. Their main responsibility is to keep the pack safe, to lead. 

“Y-you’re a lycan?” you whispered, voice shaky. Admittedly you felt more pacified than you did a few moments prior, though you still didn’t completely trust this lycan or his intentions. 

Unsurprisingly Seokjin didn’t seem shocked by your knowing, a small smile tugging at his lips as he slowly lowered his arms to rest them by his side.

“What happened to me.” you demanded quietly. 

The lycan sighed, a distraught look on his face as a hand came up to comb through his hair. To be truthful, Seokjin didn’t know exactly what to say to that. He felt it wasn’t fair for him to speak on it further without his brother being present, afterall he wasn’t there when the incident occurred and he knew how much the other wanted to see you when you woke up. 

“I think that it’s better if Jeongguk explains that to you.” He eventually spoke, voice low and a knowing look in his eyes. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at his reply. 

“Who?” 

“You’ll recognize him when you see him.” With that Seokjin left the room, closing the door softly behind him. You could hear his footsteps quickly fading as he left, your shoulders falling with a sigh you didn’t realize you were holding. It was quiet for a while after that, the soft chirping of birds outside seeping through the open window next to you and the atmosphere almost serene in nature. 

Curiosity managed to get the better of you, your hands gripping the blankets covering your leg as you carefully untucked it, grimacing at what you saw. Your entire lower leg was tore up, a couple stitches suturing close some of the worse ones near your ankle and a series of smaller cuts and blisters sweltering above them. Everything was covered in some form on semi-translucent film, yarrow you believed it was, and was extremely tender to the touch as you gently prodded the areas with your fingers. 

“You shouldn’t be touching that.” 

Whipping your head around at the sound of the voice, your eyes quickly landing on a figure standing shyly in the doorway. He was young, that much was obvious, no older than twenty with hair the same shade as coal and big, doe eyes that stared at you in earnest. Jeongguk, you would believe Seokjin said his name was.

 You didn’t speak as he stepped further into the room, nervousness dripping from his form like honey as he opened and closed his mouth in an attempt to form words. 

“I’m sorry,” he eventually let out, eyes downcast on the polished wooden floor beneath his feet. “This shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.” 

Opting to stay silent you watched the boy from beneath a curious, questioning gaze. You were fairly certain you didn’t recognize his face from anywhere, but you could feel a sense of familiarity between the two of you.

 He kept his face down, hidden away from your scrutinizing gaze but you could still see his eyes turn from their normal dark brown to a deep cherry wine color at his obviously distraught emotional state. 

You could recognize those eyes anywhere, no matter what happened. It was the lycan that visited you every day, the one you befriended and grew to trust. You felt more at ease than you did before. 

Shifting on the bed, you sat up before speaking. “Do you know where am I, Jeongguk?” 

If he was shocked at the sound of his name passing through your lips he didn’t show it, opting to shift slightly closer to the bed where you were situated. You could see the apprehensiveness apparent on his face, worried about how you would react to the information he was eventually going to give you. 

“You’re in my home, we brought you here after the attack.” 

You nodded, furrowing your eyebrows as you processed his words.

“About that,” you whispered, nervous and unsure of how to word your question properly. “What exactly happened that day, Jeongguk?” 

Jeongguk sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed without thinking of how you would react and burying his face in his hands. To be honest, he felt awful about what happened. It was his fault, their fault. 

“Recently there were issues with a rogue intruding on our territory,” He began, his eyes solely focused on the birch flooring. “We were out patrolling the borders when I managed to catch his scent.” 

From there Jeongguk explained everything that occurred, sparing you some of the more gory details of the altercation he had with the lone wolf at his rather unexpected arrival, stopping periodically to gauge your reaction. It felt odd having somebody explain to you what happened to your own body, the memories still buried beneath the heaviness of shock and denial. Maybe that was for the best, you thought.

“I’m sorry.” 

Furrowing your eyebrows you moved to look at the boy, your mind still reeling as you placed the pieces together. “This isn’t your fault.” 

“But it is!” He abruptly stood up, burying his hands in his hair and his eyes shifting. “I-I should have been there, with you. We should have driven the rogue out before anything like this could happen.” 

Both of you stayed silent after that.

Technically he was right, if he had gotten the rogue lycan off his territory none of this would have happened, you wouldn’t be lying here injured and confused. But you also knew deep down he did everything he could to prevent it. 

-------- 

A few days have passed since you woke up, your leg felt significantly better than it had in the beginning and the swelling was greatly reduced after each night. Jeongguk visited you every morning and stayed a couple hours to help keep you entertained, bringing a blank notebook and some pencils with him as you two drew to pass the time. Sometimes you talked, sometimes you didn’t. But you were comfortable.

Seokjin would come in to check on you and your injury at least two times a day, washing it with cold water to get rid of any dirt that may cause an infection and replacing the yarrow treatment before bandaging it up again. 

“Where did you learn so much about medicine?” you asked one day, watching as Seokjin finished up wrapping your leg with piqued interest. 

He smiled, standing up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed next to you and gathering up his supplies. The clothes he was wearing today were rather simple, a loose white shirt tucked into black ripped jeans. He looked good, you thought. 

“Il sung, your grandfather, taught me actually,” there was a fond look on his face as he spoke, his fingers stilling on the bowl of yarrow he used to soak your leg a couple moments prior.

“Were you close?” 

Seokjin nodded, looking at you with golden eyes from beneath his lashes. You reminded him so much of Il sung that it hurt, the look in your eyes as you spoke to him and your rather gentle disposition almost an exact copy. 

“Very.” 

--------

It’s been a week now, and you were getting considerably restless. In the entire duration you’ve been staying here you haven’t left the room once; there was a bathroom across from your bed and food was brought to you regularly by either Seokjin or Jeongguk, so you never had a reason to leave. But now that was going to change. 

Swinging your legs gently over the bed, you pushed the heavy blankets off of you and carefully made your way to the door. The wood was relatively cold against your bare feet, the obnoxiously oversized t-shirt Jeongguk had given you to wear after you took a shower brushed against your black sweats, a slight limp in your leg present. 

It was silent when you first stepped out. There were a couple other doors next to yours, all of which were closed and locked with a staircase leading down to the lower floor. Your hand held against the railing as you carefully limped down the steps, observing how everything was engrossed in a sheet of darkness with the absence of the lights being turned on. 

There was nobody in the main room from what you could tell, nor the open kitchen that was located in front of a rather large sliding glass window overlooking the backyard. The cabin was relatively modern, the walls a light birch color and the flooring darkly tinted; it felt similar to your own home, a fact that made you feel more comfortable. 

What captured your attention the most was that it was too quiet, too desolate. You knew that at least two lycans lived here, Seokjin and Jeongguk, so there had to be more hiding in the shadows somewhere. Wolves run in a pack rather than alone, so the only question was where they were. 

Moving from the kitchen to the main area, you smiled at the feeling of your feet coming in contact with the fluffy rug laid out on the floor, the material soft and warm against your bruised soles. There were a couple pictures hanging on the walls to add some decoration, but not too many as you looked around. Turning to observe more of the living area, you raised your eyebrows at what you saw. 

There was a wolf laying on the couch, a heavy blanket covering most of its body as its vivid blue eyes stared lazily at you. It had earthy brown fur, not as dark as Jeongguk’s but not that light either, cream white and tawny decorating around its snout, chest and one of its ears. You recognized it from the picture sitting above your fireplace mantle back at home. 

“Hi,” you smiled, a little put off at the prolonged eye contact it insisted on making. No matter how many lycans you surround yourself with, you’ll never get over how intimidating their eyes are. 

The wolf seemed to perk up at the sound of your voice, getting up and stretching lazily before excitedly bounding over to you. It was tall, reaching up to the middle of your stomach in height with a slightly lanky but muscular build.

 It’s snout was immediately buried in your stomach when it got close enough, sniffing and wagging its tail almost like an oversized dog. You giggled at the feeling of it’s tongue against your bare skin, it’s tongue rough against your navel as it stuck its head underneath your shirt. It was a little too friendly--you almost forgot there was actually a person in that wolf’s body instead of just an animal. 

“I see you’ve met Taehyung.” 

Turning to look at the source of the voice, disbelief took over your features at what, moreso who, you saw. Perhaps you should have seen it coming, and in all honesty you think deep down you did. You just wonder how many other surprises are out there waiting for you at this point. 

“Namjoon?” 

He flashed you a dimpled smile in reply, placing the grocery bags he was carrying in his hands onto the kitchen island. His silver blonde hair was covering his forehead, a little longer than the last time you saw him but overall nothing really changed. A couple of others came strolling in after him, their hands full with varying other items and smiles stretching their faces as they laughed at something you were unaware of. 

Jeongguk came in next, his smile immediately fading at the sight of you and Taehyung. His eyes changed to their blood red color, glaring at the wolf in front of you and the rather friendly position both of you were in. 

“Back off Tae.” He growled lowly, rolling his eyes at the smug huff that came out of the Beta’s mouth. Taehyung was testing his limits and he knew it. 

Either way the wolf complied and stepped back, the air suddenly cold against your stomach where the immense heat of his head used to be. Seokjin came in last, mumbling under his breath about something you didn’t care to strain your ears to find out, his eyes widening at the sight of you.

“What the hell are you doing out of bed?” Seokjin stammered, dropping the bags he had in his hands and quickly rushing towards your side. He rolled up the leg of your sweats to check on your injury, making sure none of the stitches were pulled in your little endeavor out of your room. 

“Seokjinn,” you whined, trying your best to balance on one leg as the lycan in question examined the other. “I was sick of being cooped up in the room all day, I needed to get out for a little bit.” 

Standing up from his crouched position, Seokjin sighed as he gave you a disapproving look. He had his hands on his hips like a scolding mother, the imagery in your head making you smile. 

“Do you understand how dangerous that could be if you pulled one of your stitches coming down the steps?”

 As bad as you felt for doing so, you completely tuned out Seokjin’s voice. You didn’t feel bad for leaving the room without his permission first, and you weren’t going to let him make you think so either, even though you knew that he was only scolding you out of the wellness in his heart. 

Your attention quickly shifted to a door that was opening on the second floor, Seokjin’s voice little more than white nose as a very sleepy looking man soon came into view. It was Yoongi, you remembered his name being, his head of black hair a mess atop his head and his clothes in disarray as he made his way down the steps. 

“Wow Yoongi, way to look presentable for guests,” One of the men you didn’t recognize taunted, laughing when the other flipped him off. He had light blonde hair and a wide smile, a little intimidating but an otherwise welcoming aura to him. 

You and Yoongi made brief eye contact as he passed into the main room, his eyes flashing blue quickly in an intimidating glare as he sat down on the couch.  

“Well since everybody is here,” Namjoon began, his voice capturing everybody’s attention in a matter of seconds. Even Jeongguk looked up from where he was stuffing his face with a sandwich you didn’t even know where he got. “I think we’re due for some introductions.” 

You soon found out that the man who patronized Yoongi was named Hoseok, his bright smile catching you slightly off guard when he directed it at you for the first time. There was another, Jimin his name was, a little short and quiet with chocolate brown hair that was parted in the middle but he has a nice, gentle smile and a good heart from what you could tell. 

-------

Later that evening you found yourself sitting on the couch watching T.V with Taehyung. Seokjin had made dinner for everybody about an hour prior, luckily he hadn’t made you return back to your room pending your full recovery so you had a chance to really get to know everybody. 

You had become surprisingly comfortable with them pretty quick, helping put the groceries and other purchases from their once a month trip to the city where they belonged while making conversation. Everyone was nice to you, even Yoongi. 

Taehyung had refused to shift back for reasons unknown to you, his head heavy in your lap as you ran your fingers through his soft fur but you didn’t complain. You could hear him whine when your fingers stopped petting him, a soft chuckle leaving your lips at the sound. In the short time you knew him, you could tell he was just attention starved and affection rather than a big scary wolf. 

The sun had set quickly thereafter, the day quickly bleeding into the night as you finally felt the effects of the day wearing you out. Namjoon, Jeongguk and Yoongi had left somewhere into the woods about an hour ago, for what reason you didn’t really know but you didn’t feel like questioning them at the time, trusting it was important. 

--------

Jeongguk groaned, the sound of his bones cracking back into place as he shifted sounded brutal even to his own ears. It was well into the night now, they had just gotten back from patrolling the borders for the third time in only a week. Ever since your attack he’s been paranoid about something like that happening again, his nights filled with sleepless regret as your attack replayed in his head like a bad dream. He tried not to think about it too much as he quickly pulled the clothes he left out on the porch over his naked body. 

“You coming?” Yoongi called out to him in a gruff voice, staring at him from his position in the doorway of the sliding glass window. The moonlight shone lightly over his shirtless pale figure. 

“Yea, in a bit.”

The black haired boy simply nodded, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Jeongguk just needed time to think, to try to gather his thoughts before returning back inside and being forced to face his insecurities and fears. What happened that night, should have never happened. He was supposed to be there to protect you and he wasn’t, that was something he would never forgive himself for. 

A couple minutes passed before he sighed, finally moving to go back inside. His eyes immediately fell on your sleeping form, the brightly flashing colors of the T.V reflecting off your face beautifully as a smile rested upon his lips. It was the same smile that immediately was replaced by a deep scowl at the sight of the lycan currently resting on your lap. 

“You’re really pushing it, Tae,” Jeongguk growled, his fists clenching at his sides. Taehyung’s blue eyes only smugly stared at him in response, rolling over onto his back on the couch with his head still in your lap. 

“Go.” 

Taehyung growled at him quietly in response before lazily getting off the couch, the sounds of his nails padding against the wood echoing in the halls before it was replaced by the gruesome crunching of bones as they rearranged themselves back in place. You shivered at the sudden absence of the wolf’s warmth, your face scrunching up as you curled in on yourself on the couch. Jeongguk’s heart swelled at the sight. 

Moving to turn the T.V off, the room was engulfed in silence and darkness as he came back to where you were resting, gently hooking his arms around your back and knees to bring you up to his chest. He walked up the stairs to where your room was located, placing you on the bed softly before carefully tucking you in. 

He was falling, faster than he’d like to and worse than he expected.

-------- 

 The sun was annoyingly bright against your eyes, your cheeks warm and flushed as they stretched in a wide smile while you watched the lycans interact with each other in the backyard below. You could see two wolves wrestling in the dirt a couple feet away, what you recognized as Jimin’s slightly smaller form pinning Taehyung beneath his paws as his exaggerated yelps caught your ears. Namjoon and Yoongi were sitting on the porch, their fur rustling slightly in the wind as they quietly observed. You didn’t know where the other two were. 

It’s been two weeks since your attack, and two weeks since you’ve arrived at the pack house. Your injury was pretty much healed by now, minus a couple cuts and some bruises that were an ugly mix of green and purple, but Seokjin said you were pretty much ready to go back home whenever you were feeling up to it. You were extremely happy at the news, missing the feeling of fading white pages beneath your fingers and the wet soil on your knees as you took care of the garden. 

The only issue you faced now was how you were going to tell Jeongguk about it. 

Both of you have grown significantly closer, between the sparing glaces and the way your heart beats uncomfortably against your chest when one of the other pack members so much as mentions him, you would go as far as saying you fell for the lycan. 

Sometimes the two of you would spend the nights together on his bed talking about nothing and everything at the same time from dusk till dawn, other times he would lead you to a secret lake in the early morning just to watch as the sky bleeds into stunning hues of crimson and rose right in front of your very eyes. 

It was amazing, he was amazing. And that scared you. So much. 

These last few years of your life have been filled with so much pain and loneliness, you don’t know if you could handle giving up possibly the best thing you’ve ever had. Jeongguk was something that came hurtling at you out of nowhere like a bullet, ripping through your chest and leaving you scrambling at each breath. He was pain and pleasure coexisting in one, something you didn’t know if you could handle at this point in your life. 

The sound of the shower turning off managed to take you out of your thoughts, steam coming out of the bathroom as Jeongguk exited, roughly toweling his hair in an attempt to dry it and his sweats hanging low on his hips. He was in there for almost an hour in an attempt to sate his nerves, or more specifically after you yelled at him for pacing so long you were worried he would put a dent in the flooring. It gave you some much needed time to think. 

“Hey,” Jeongguk whispered, sitting down next to you on the bed and following your gaze to watch the rest of his pack below with lidded vermillion eyes. 

“Hey,” your eyes drifted down to his bare chest, your fingers reaching out on their own accord to touch the flattened scars that were littered there. They were slightly pink, more flesh toned and obviously old. The boy was quiet as he rested his hand on top yours, his skin incredibly warm and his heartbeat quickening beneath your palm. 

You took a deep breath before finally opening up to him. 

“Y’know, earlier today Seokjin said I was pretty much healed,” you spoke, linking your fingers together with the lycans quietly. You refused to look at his face, solely focusing on your entwined hands still resting above his heart. “He said that I can go home.” 

Jeongguk was quiet at that, his grip around your palm tightening slightly. At the mention of the word ‘home’ he faltered, a sharp pain in chest as he felt his heart break slightly. He knew it was selfish for him to want you to stay here with him, to live with him, to be with him--but that didn’t stop him from desiring it.

“When are you leaving?” Jeongguk whispered, keeping his eyes on your intertwined hands. The look on his face and the sound of his voice made your heart hurt. 

“Taehyung said he’d help me get ready in the morning,” your voice was quiet, your palm suddenly cold when the lycan got off the bed in haste. He stood in the center of your room, deathly quiet as he raised a hand to thread through his damp hair. “Make sure I get back home safely.”

His eyes seemed to glow in the sudden darkness of your room, the sun quickly retreating back into the horizon while the moon came to take its place in the sky. He didn’t know what to do, what to think. He knew he could still visit you like he used to, sit with his head in your lap and the feeling of your fingers combing through the tangles in his fur with the afternoon sun on his face, but he also knew deep down things wouldn’t be the same. 

 You were shocked when he came back, his palms warm against your cheeks as he looked into your eyes as he pleaded, “Stay here, with me. We can take care of you, I can take care of you. You wouldn’t be alone anymore.” 

Tears welled up in your eyes, lip quivering and your voice cracking as you looked at the desperate look on his face. “I-I can’t. You know that.” 

You couldn’t leave behind your life and everything that was entrusted to you to live with a pack of lycans, some of whom you’ve only known for a short two weeks. It was crazy, and if it was the full moon influencing his actions you didn’t know but the pleading look in his eyes broke your heart. 

 “I should go then,” Jeongguk dropped his hands from your face, backing up towards the door. He was looking everywhere but you.“The pack is waiting for me.” 

You followed him as he made his way down the steps, slower than the lycan as you attempted to catch up to him. The attempt was futile, his hands were already gripping the handle to the sliding glass door and exiting before you could even make it past the main room. “Jeongguk, wait!”  

The rest of the pack was waiting outside, already shifted and waiting impatiently as they stared at both of you. He ignored your voice, untying his sweats and pulling them down his legs as he got ready for the run. You turned around to give him some privacy, a deep flush covering your cheeks as you jumped at the sudden sound of bones shortening and elongating, cracking and rearranging as he shifted. 

It wasn’t as quick and harmless as it appeared in movies or shows, the process agonizing long as it hurt your ears to listen to. 

You only turned back around once it was silent, watching with glistening eyes as Namjoon led the rest of the pack into the darkness of the forest ahead of you. The pale moonlight of the full moon reflected off of Jeongguk’s coat, making him appear almost a dark blue color as he slowed to a stop behind everyone else. 

He turned back to look at you, ears lowered against his head as you both just looked at each other. You didn’t know if he could see the tears staining your cheeks or the solemn look in your eyes, but if he did he didn’t acknowledge them as he ran to catch up with his brothers deep in the trees. 

----------

The entire house seemed as if it was abandoned. There was no Seokjin yelling at one of the other boys for messing around in the kitchen while he was cooking, or Taehyung and Hoseok wrestling on the main room floor over whoever gets the last strip of bacon. The worst was the absence of Jeongguk’s gentle breathing as he laid next to you, sprawled out on your bed after a long night of talking as the gentle rise and fall of his chest lulled you back to sleep. It was too quiet, and you hated it. 

It was almost six in the morning when you finally saw the first break in the treeline. The sun hasn’t come out yet, the sky still bathed in darkness but from what you could make out there were only six wolves tiredly trotting back to the house as opposed to seven. Furrowing your eyebrows, you lifted your head from where it was resting on top of your folded arms, recognizing each lycan almost immediately and noticing that the only one missing was Jeongguk. 

By the time you made your way to the bottom of the steps the pack was already shifting, their exhausted groans reaching your ears as they pulled their clothes on with tired, battered breaths. The lycan you were looking for was nowhere in sight.

“Hey, Y/N,” you jumped slightly at the feeling of a hand on your skin, turning around to see Seokjin looking at you with a worried expression on his face. “What’s wrong?” 

Confusion and worry laced your features as you looked around, your hope of expecting to see the black haired boy the more you searched dwindling. “Jeongguk, where is he?” 

Seokjin only sighed in response, a look on his face you didn’t feel like acknowledging as his hand squeezed the flesh of your arm comfortingly. He opened his mouth to speak, “I think we should go back inside to talk-” 

“No!” You pulled back from his grip, staring at him in disbelief as he attempted to shut down your inquiry. The others were looking at the both of you with empathetic gazes, making you feel gross and exposed. “Why isn’t he here, Seokjin? I need to talk to him.” 

“We don’t know where he is,” Namjoon spoke lightly, his hand resting in the middle of Seokjin’s bare back as he slowly walked up from behind him. His eyes were gentle as he looked at you, their intimidating red color not doing much to help calm you. “He’ll be back, Y/N, I promise. He just needed time to think.” 

Jeongguk needed time away because of you. You didn’t know how to react to that, your eyes downcast as the older Omega gently led you back inside. There was no protest this time, the exhaustion of everything finally catching up to you as settled to retiring yourself back to bed.

--------

Later that night you found yourself in the kitchen. It was dark, almost midnight the last time you checked, a bowl of barely touched cereal in front of you as you let yourself get lost in your thoughts. 

Seokjin had come in about half an hour prior to talk with you, not necessarily about anything specific but you knew what he implied beneath all his questions and comments. It helped a little bit to discuss everything you were feeling with somebody who actually listened, and Seokjin had a natural ability to cheer you up.

You looked up at the sound of footsteps, sighing at the sight of Yoongi quickly coming into view. It wasn’t like you disliked the lycan, you two just didn’t have the strongest connection with each other yet and if you were being honest you were slightly intimidated by the black haired boy. He was quiet, always observing and barely talking. 

Nobody spoke, not that you were surprised, the sound of your metal spoon clinking against the bowl sharp against the otherwise silent room. Yoongi stood with his back against the fridge, a bottle of water held tight between his nimble, pale fingers as he watched you with an intimidating gaze. 

“We need to talk,” He suddenly spoke, moving to rest his forearms on the kitchen island. “About Jeongguk.” 

You knew this was coming. Between Yoongi and Seokjin, you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole pack knew about what happened between you and Jeongguk. That doesn’t mean you want to speak to them about it, though.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” your voice was quiet, your eyes remaining downcast on the now soggy bowl of cereal. 

“You’re right, you didn’t.” You could feel his eyes on you, watching your face for any shift in reaction, no matter how miniscule. This is the most you’ve ever heard him speak in the two weeks you’ve known him. “But Jeongguk, he’s-he’s young. He’s sensitive.” 

There was nothing to say, nothing you could say. You knew that all of this was coming from the good of heart, but it felt like you were getting blamed for something that was out of your control. 

“I know you’re still slightly new at this,” you scoffed at that, tonguing the inside of your cheek in frustration. It sounded like he was placing the blame on you, like it was your fault Jeongguk lashed out and didn’t come back. It wasn’t though, and you weren’t going to let him, or anybody else, make it seem like it was. “But things are different for us. We don’t feel things the same way you do, we don’t understand things like you do.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you mumbled, pushing away the bowl of cereal. 

“Wolves mate for life, Y/N.” Yoongi spoke, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he looked at the upset look on your face. “And Jeongguk already fell for you.” 

--------- 

Jeongguk didn’t come back for a week. 

The wait for him was agonizingly long, not just for you but for the rest of the pack as well. By the fourth day you could see the nervousness apparent on the other’s faces, and then by the fifth you could hear the arguments in the other room and the tiny whispers at dinner. You couldn’t help but feel like this was your fault, the guilt constantly eating away at your stomach and making you feel sick. 

You knew Jeongguk could easily take care of himself out there, but that didn’t stop you from worrying about him. 

You managed to hear him before you saw him. 

It was getting pretty late, the sun quickly setting into the horizon as you sat in the main room. Everybody else had already retired back into their rooms for the night, leaving you alone as you mindlessly drew in an old sketchbook Jeongguk had given you the first few nights you were here.

 He obviously didn’t want to be heard, immediately backtracking as soon as his paw made a creak in the wood flooring of the porch. 

“Jeongguk?” you whispered, setting your stuff down on the couch before slowly getting up. The lycan looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face, ears pinned on his head as he quickly retreated back in the forest.

 Your bare feet scratched against the harsh forest floor as you followed after him, the clean clothes one of the boys left out each night in case he came back one night in your hands as you quickly caught up to him. He wasn’t running, he was hardly even jogging, instead walking at a leisurely pace ahead of you with his nose held high. 

He stopped behind a tree to shift, the sounds making your nose curl in disgust as you dropped the clothes on the floor next to him before turning around to give him privacy. You could hear the sound of him pulling his pants up, facing him again once you heard him start to walk away. 

“Where have you been, Jeongguk?” you questioned, your anger quickly rising as he made it a point to stay silent. Fresh scratches and bruises littered his sides and shoulders, the sight making you even more upset than before. 

“What happened, Guk? Why are you all beat up?” your anger was quickly replaced with worry, tears welling in your eyes at the sight of him. His standoffish attitude was really starting to affect you, you hadn’t even had a chance to properly see his face as he kept his back turned towards you but you would bet it looked just as worse as the rest of him. 

“Everybody was worried about you,” tears were falling down your cheeks openly now, the pent up emotions finally making an appearance. Your voice was shaky and low as you confessed, “I was worried about you.”

Jeongguk stopped suddenly at that, his fists clenching at his sides as he hung his head. You carefully made your way up to him, your cold palm against his hot skin making him jump slightly as you touched the center of his back. His face wasn’t as bad as you expected, a small cut on his cheek being the only thing you could see as you stepped in front of him. 

“Did you feel anything between us?” He looked vulnerable as he asked you that question, nothing like the big bad Alpha that you first met all those months ago. The thought made you chuckle, your hand reaching up to softly stroke the cut on his face. “Anything at all?” 

“Of course I did, Guk.” you smiled, your thumb tracing indistinguishable shapes on his cheek as you looked into his eyes. 

“Then why won’t you stay with me?” 

You sighed, closing your eyes for a brief moment before reopening them. He was young, younger than you at least, so you knew you couldn’t blame him for not understanding. “It’s not that simple, Jeongguk you know that.”  

The lycan nodded, the once hopeful look in his eye dying as he attempted to take a step back away from your touch. You grabbed him before he could, both of your hands cupping his cheeks as you forced him to look at you. 

“But we will find a way,” you smiled at him, your heart fluttering at the confused expression on his face. “I’m not going to leave you, Guk. Never.”

You intended to keep true to your statement, there had to be a way to figure this all out. No situation was purely black and white, and you’ll find the shades of gray in between no matter what. 

The feeling of his lips was incredibly warm as he pushed them against yours, slightly chapped but otherwise still soft. The amount of emotion he put into kissing you wasn’t anything you felt before, the feeling of his tongue sweeping against the plumpness of your lower lip and the heat from his body sending butterflies in your stomach. 

His hands fell down to your hips, pushing up your t-shirt to feel the softness of your stomach beneath his palms with battered breaths before pushing you back. You gasped at the feeling of the rough tree bark against you, his body pinning you further back as he continued exploring your mouth with his own. 

You pulled back slightly, breathing heavily and your lips red and plump with saliva. Jeongguk smirked at the sight, his thumb coming up to pull down your bottom lip with the tip of his finger before moving his mouth to the sensitive skin of your neck. The elongated point of his incisors scrapped lightly against your pulse, making you shudder at the sensation.

This was everything Jeongguk dreamed of; the feeling of your soft skin beneath his claws and the innocent look in your eyes as you stared up at him. The things he’d do to you as you lied beneath him, baring your neck in submission to your Alpha as pumped you full of his seed in hopes of putting his pups in your belly. He shuddered at the thought. 

The strands of his hair were silky beneath your fingertips, gasping and tugging at the roots as he bit down on a certain area of your neck that made your core clench. You didn’t know if he could smell your quickly rising arousal, but judging by the smirk you felt against your lips as he kissed his way back up your neck proved he did. 

“Guk,” you whispered, whimpering at the feeling of his palm applying pressure lightly against your navel. “Are we-?” 

Jeongguk opened his eyes, his hands stilling immediately as he moved his face in front of yours. “Do you want to?” 

“I do.” You nodded, moving your hands from his hair to his bare back, mindful of the bruises and cuts already there. The lycan continued his ministrations, pulling your shirt above your head quickly before making his way down your clavicle. You were hyper aware of the fact you were outside, mindful of anything, or anyone, who may be watching or listening. 

“So pretty,” Jeongguk murmured into your skin, biting and sucking marks into your breast. You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue on your nipple, sucking it into his mouth before pulling back and blowing cold air on it. His hands were on your waist, kneading roughly as he pushed his body further against yours. “You don’t understand how long I’ve wanted this.”

“Me too,” Your voice was breathy, your hands reached down to palm him slowly over his jeans as his whimpers of pleasure sent waves of arousal through your body. He pulled back from your grip, smirking at you as you attempted to reign him back in--your body cold and exposed to anybody who may be watching.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you watched him pick up his discarded hoodie, laying it out on the forest floor before walking back over to you. He led you back towards it slowly, his mouth back on yours as he licked into your mouth and his hand wrapped around your throat possessively. 

The fabric was soft against your knees as he carefully pushed you down, the feeling of his warm hand splayed around your neck making you dizzy in pleasure. 

“Guk,” you whispered, kissing one of the bruises that were blossoming on his side gently. He moved his hand from your neck to hair, tightening it in a fist as you unbuttoned his jeans, pushing down the denim to expose his cock to your hungry eyes.  

Jeongguk was big, flushed red at the tip with veins running along the skin, hot and heavy in your hand as you gripped him. Your mouth watered slightly at the sight, pushing your thighs together before licking a long stripe from the base all the way to the head. His groans made your core clench, shifting desperately for friction. 

Your lips wrapped around his cock, stretching around his girth as your tongue wrapped around the tip and dipped into the slit. The lycan moaned loudly, his fist tightening in your hair and tugging you down slowly. 

“‘S this okay?” Jeongguk asked quietly, whimpering at the feeling of you humming an affirmative around him. You worked on getting him slick with spit, a steady rhythm starting to form the more you bobbed your head up and down. 

Gagging slightly at the pressure at the back of your throat you went as far down as you could, tears bubbling in your eyes as you relished in the pleasured moans coming from his mouth. You could feel your core clenching around nothing, the wetness between your thighs making you shift uncomfortably at the emptiness. 

Pulling off with a pop saliva dripped down your chin, your hands spreading the wetness on his shaft as you looked up at him with fucked out eyes. You felt his hand wrap lightly around your throat again, the pressure intoxicating as you pushed you to lie down on the ground. 

Jeongguk’s mouth was back on yours as soon as your back touched the fabric, his forearms caged around your head. You moaned at the feeling of one of his hands coming down to rub your core over the thin material of your leggings, hips rising of their own accord to chase after the feeling.

“Mmm, you’re so wet, baby,” The lycan purred, biting down on your bottom lip with one of his incisors. It stung, you could taste the iron as blood seeped from the cut and into your mouth. Jeongguk growled at the sight, taking the chance to lick into your mouth and taste the blood on your tongue with his own. 

The feeling was intoxicating, your head swimming with pleasure as you felt Jeongguk’s rough fingers dip beneath your clothes and stroke your bare core. You haven’t been this intimate with anybody in a long time, so you were extremely sensitive to all his advances. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered, wincing at the slight burn as he inserted a fingered into you slowly. You haven’t had anything inside of you for so long, welcoming the pain that came with it.

“Gonna stretch you out nice and good,” Jeongguk whispered in your ear, biting on the soft flesh there. “Make sure you’re ready to take my fat cock, isn’t that right baby?” 

You nodded at his words, grinding your hips onto his fingers as the tightening feeling in your lower stomach kept building. His words were affecting you more than you thought, your fluids dripping down his digits and soaking your leggings. 

He hastily got rid of the offending garment, a slight tearing sound reaching your ears as you were left completely bare in front of his hungry eyes. You gasped when you were suddenly flipped over, cheek pressed up against the soft fabric of Jeongguk’s hoodie and your hips pulled high in a rather demeaning, submissive position. 

The sudden feeling of the lycan’s rough tongue on your core made you whimper from pleasure, his rough hands spreading your lips and further exposing you. You flushed deeply in embarrassment at the feeling of your juices leaking down the inside of your thighs, though Jeongguk eagerly lapped them up with no sounds of protest. 

With the pressure on your clit and the fullness of his fingers scissoring deep in your core you couldn’t help it, the budding tightness unravelling as you came onto his tongue. Your body shook lightly, trembling in his grip as you attempted to bite back your moans. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Jeongguk confessed, his mouth glistening with the aftermath of your orgasm. He gave you a little bit to recover before you felt his tip pushing against your entrance, the sensitivity from your previous release making you whimper and recoil slightly. 

His body covered yours as he leaned over you, sandwiching you between the floor and him as he pushed slowly into you inch by inch. He felt so good inside you, hot and pulsing between your thighs with each forward stroke. 

“I’m going to breed you so good, baby,” Jeongguk moaned, linking his fingers with your own as he finally bottomed out in you. “Make you take this knot and put a litter of pups deep in that little womb of yours. Wouldn’t you like that?” 

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes as he pulled all the way out before slamming back in. It hurt, but the pain mingled with the pleasure deliciously--taking everything he was giving you with a stream of satisfied moans. The only thing that managed to distract you from the pleasant fullness of your core was the mention of the word ‘knot’. You didn’t understand what he meant by that, but you also didn’t attempt to evaluate his words as your body jerked forward at the next thrust. 

Your juices were leaking all over Jeongguk’s sweatshirt, staining the fabric and making you flush at the scene when you lowered your head to peer in between your legs. The sight of your lower stomach bulging with the lycan’s cock only made you more wet, your moans and whimpers echoing in the quickly darkening forest. 

Jeongguk took notice of your fascination, moving one of his hands from your hips to palm gently below your navel. It felt better than you thought it would, your knees trembling and threatening to give out from beneath you from the pleasure. He leaned back on his knees from his previous position over you, his other palm warm against your skin as he pushed between your shoulder blades. 

“Harder,” you cried, shutting your eyes at the feeling of another orgasm quickly building. Jeongguk complied, his fingers pushing hard against your clit and relishing in the feeling of your walls squeezing him tightly. 

He was a complete mess, almost as much as you were, your cum sticky on his thighs and sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. The thin strings of your juices connecting you two together made a gross wet noise each time he pulled out, the sounds it made as he pushed back in making him growl in enjoyment. 

Your orgasm hit you like a truck, your vision going black as you shut your eyes at the overwhelming feeling. The oversensitivity made you wince as Jeongguk kept fucking you, slightly pulling away from him before he roughly pulled you back. 

“Almost there, baby,” He whispered, kissing your neck reassuringly. He was almost there, he could feel his stomach tightening with his impending release. “Take it, Y/N. I know you can.” 

Nodding, you continued to moan at the slightly painful feeling. It felt good, so good, tears falling onto your flushed, sweaty cheeks as your body jerked forward with each rub against your walls. 

Something felt wrong, the pressure between your legs was growing and getting tighter with each thrust Jeongguk made inside of you. Paired with the oversensitivity from your two previous orgasms, it hurt to feel stretched out so much. 

“G-guk wait,” you whimpered, clenching your fists around the fabric beneath you as you shut your eyes shut at the pain. “Hurts-” 

“It’s okay, It’s okay,” Jeongguk shushed, brushing your sweaty hair back from your face as he pushed you further to the ground. “You can take my knot, right baby?”

You sighed at the mention of his knot, wondering if this is what he meant by it-- the growing and painful pressure stretching your core to it’s max with no signs of stopping. You trusted Jeongguk, though, and knew he wouldn’t do anything deliberate to hurt you. “I can, yea. I can.” 

The feeling of his cum emptying inside you made you moan, warm against your walls and temporarily distracting you from the pain of his inflating knot. With one last hard thrust you two were locked together, Jeongguk moaning loudly from behind you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. The scraping of his elongated teeth against your skin made you shiver as he continued to release inside you. 

He slowly rolled the two of you onto your sides once he was finished, gripping the inside of your thigh and holding it up slightly to prevent the two of you from experiencing any unnecessary pain. Looking down at your battered and abused core, you saw Jeongguk’s excess cum leaking from the sides of his knot; wet and sticky on the sides of your thighs. The visual made you flush deeply. 

You were beyond tired, slumping tiredly against the boy as you felt his warm tongue licking your skin. The feeling made you chuckle. “What are you doing?” 

“Grooming you,” Jeongguk mumbled nonchalantly, continuing without hesitation. He swept over your abundance of bite marks and hickeys with the wet muscle, pausing to leave little kisses on each one of them. His palm was heavy as he cupped your stomach protectively. 

“Can I bite you?” 

“Can you what?”

You looked over your shoulder at the boy, taking in his fucked out expression and incredibly flushed cheeks as he stared at you with his intimidating red eyes. He didn’t seem affected by your surprise. 

“Bite you, mark you as mine.” His voice suddenly got quiet, lowering to look at the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he stroked the skin there softly. “Make you my mate.” 

Thinking back to Yoongi’s words, you knew the implications that came with what he said. You also knew that by agreeing to be Jeongguk’s mate, you would have little to no chance of going back to the life you once had. But everything Jeongguk gave you, everything he made you feel wasn’t something you wanted to give up. 

“Okay,” You whispered, closing your eyes before reopening them and giving the boy a small smile. The look on his face was indescribable, your heart beating just a little bit faster as you both looked at each other in happiness. “Okay.” 

His lips were on yours in a second, pushing hard against your own with a smile on his face. You kissed back with the same enthusiasm, his tongue licking the inside of your mouth quickly before he pulled back. 

“It’s going to hurt a bit,” Jeongguk murmured against your lips, gently pushing your face back against the fabric so he could reach your shoulder easily. He kissed the skin of your neck lightly, your pulse hot against his mouth as he gripped your hand, running his thumb along the raised scar there. “Don’t be scared.” 

You didn’t have much time to prepare before there was an immense pain spreading throughout your entire body, your screams of pain disturbing the quiet forest around you. It burned so much, the feeling indescribable as the feeling continued to spread throughout your entire body. His teeth weren’t in there for long, pulling back out after a couple of seconds as you felt blood drip down your back. 

“Hey,” Jeongguk whispered, cupping your cheek in his hand as he pulled your face up to his. You could see the blood staining his face and teeth, dripping down his neck and chin as he consoled you through the pain. “You’re okay, I promise.” 

Looking at him through the tears you smiled, kissing the worried look off his face as the burning pain finally started to diminish. The taste of iron was heavy on your tongue. 

----------

Both of you did, in fact, manage to find a way. 

About a week after you and Jeongguk’s endeavor in the woods, he had managed to convince you to move everything from your grandfather’s cabin into your room while you moved in with him in his. It took a lot of consideration, and negotiation from Jeongguk’s side, but you were happy. 

That being said, you still visited the cabin every now and then to make sure everything was okay. 

Walking back into the pack house afterwards was awkward, you couldn’t look anybody in the eye as you walked past them, attempting to hide all the marks on your neck with your shirt while Jeongguk grinned ear to ear like a damn fool. 

It wouldn’t have mattered anyways, the smell of blood and sex tainted the air as soon as you stepped foot in the house much to yours and Seokjins adamant dismay. He yelled at both of you after you showed up, going off on how you could have at least washed off in the lake to at least attempt to hide what you two were up to, and to Jeongguk for running away like a hormonal, upset teenager. 

You were told that once Jeongguk bit you, you didn’t have your own unique scent anymore. Instead, you were permanently masked by Jeongguk’s smell to remind everybody who you belonged to. The fact made you blush when he told you, the thought oddly comforting and making your belly tighten. 

As you were packing everything into boxes to transport them back to the pack house, you had given Namjoon the picture that used to be above your fireplace mantle, now knowing who the once mysterious wolves next to him were. He thanked you immensely. 

Overall, everybody was happy. You were happy. This was a new beginning in your life, and you wouldn’t change anything that happened for the world. 

[javier-pena]

take

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x f!reader

Word Count: 3k

Rating: Explicit (that means 18+/no minors!!)

Summary: Javi and you are enjoying breakfast on his yacht until things take an unexpected turn.

Warnings: mentions of food | thigh riding | dirty talk | orgasm delay/denial | public sex (I’m sure what they’re doing is actually illegal) | daddy kink | implied sugar daddy Javi Gutierrez | Javi is a Tease (capital T to show how serious his crimes are) | Javi in that orange shirt

Notes: I saw a picture of Javi and all I could think was, “I wanna feed him berries”. So that’s the reason I wrote this fic. That’s the only excuse I have. Oh and also that I want Javi to call me a bad girl but whatever, we don’t need to talk about that. Anyway, as always, I owe most of this to Dani @javierpcna​, literally everything I write should come with Dani’s name listed as co-author, her support knows no bounds, she literally drops everything when I send her a fic to proofread, and this was no different. And she also lets me use her brilliant lines from time to time, for which I can never repay her.

Notes II: I have neither seen the movie nor have I read the script, so if there are any spoilers in there (I doubt it) I didn’t put them in intentionally.

Notes III: Artwork by @honestly-shite​ | Moodboard by @frankiemorales​

***

One.

He lets you feed him one berry, but only after you tell him how good they taste, how they melt on your tongue, how they fill your mouth with a soft sweetness. He raises an eyebrow at that, and you know what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t say it. Instead, he takes the small blueberry from your outstretched fingers, leaning on the laden breakfast table to make it easier for you to reach him. The berry is so small it’s impossible for him to pull it in between his lips without the tip of your finger vanishing, too. You shudder at the sensation, shudder despite the heat, despite the hotness of his tongue brushing against your sensitive skin.

Javi hates breakfast. He hates dedicating time during his busy day, during the mornings when he feels most productive, to eating when it can be done en passant. You keep telling him it’s not healthy to eat while he’s distracted, and you’ve been trying to convince him to have breakfast with you for a few weeks now.

Why, babe? You said distraction is bad for me when I eat.

He still doesn’t eat during the mornings, only drinks his heavy, smoky, black coffee, but he keeps you company now whenever he can. He reads to you from the morning paper, he tells you about his plans for the day, or he listens to you talking about a dream you had last night or about things you would like to do with him one day. And today … today he even made time to take you out on his yacht, to anchor it in a secluded bay where there’s no noise except the lapping of the waves against the bright white hull of the ship and the cries of the seagulls circling above, hoping to snatch a crumb of the croissant on your plate. Today, he’s made time to be with you.

Two.

You try it again, another berry, another taste of sweetness, another burst of flavor and color and sugary juices. This time it becomes clear he’s chasing something else, craving something else, as he sucks on your finger, just for a brief moment, just under the pretense of getting the sticky juice off your skin, but he also isn’t shy about it, he also doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing. Your skin prickles when he releases the digit, and you pull your hand back across the table too quickly, too hastily. He notices and leans back on his expensive outdoor couch with a satisfied sigh.

You dry your finger against the hot skin of your leg, already burning up with the heat of the approaching day, even though you keep to the shadows. Only your feet rest on an empty chair in direct sunlight, while you keep the rest of your body safe under a wide canopy. Javi is doing the complete opposite. He’s lounging in direct sunlight, and you’ll never understand how he can stand it. Your skin always starts to tickle and itch from the heat, while he looks like he was made to live in a Mediterranean country and spend his days in the sun.

The bright, orange shirt he’s wearing is unbuttoned to expose half his chest. His bronze skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, and you cannot tear your eyes away from it, imagining what it would feel like to run your fingers over it, how hot it would feel under your hands, how he would sigh and relax into your touch. His chest is your favorite place in the entire world. You feel safe when you rest your hand on it, when he softly runs his fingers along your arm, tells you how beautiful you look, how he will always take care of you, no matter what, how you’ll never need to worry about anything ever again because you’re his and he’s yours. And you feel oh so secure when you’re trapped under it, when you feel its weight pressing down on you, when your sharp nails leave angry, red scratches on his soft skin as he whispers into your ear – encouraging, soothing, filthy.

Three.

You want to see it move, see the muscles flex and strain as he leans forward again to accept a third berry from you. And this time he’s not shy about it anymore. This time, he does suck your finger in between his lips, the berry forgotten, and you see his eyes widen behind his dark sunglasses. You suck in a sharp breath at the sight. He releases your finger with a wet pop and suddenly this isn’t enough. Suddenly you need more, more of him, but you lower your gaze to your plate instead to hide your shining eyes. There is a time and place for these things and the deck of his yacht in broad daylight isn’t it.

But you cannot deny what your body wants, even though your mind tells the aching between your legs to shut up. You push yourself out of your chair fast and within a few steps you’re leaning against the railing, hoping to catch a breeze to soothe your flushed face. But there is none, only unbearable heat.

When you turn around again, you feel a different kind of heat; Javi’s gaze is on you as he takes you in. You know he loves to do this, especially when you’re wearing something he bought you, like you’re doing this morning – an expensive black bikini that leaves little to the imagination, one you found on your bed one morning with a small note that made you shudder, so you decided to save it for a special occasion. And you were right to do so because he’s unable to tear his eyes away from you.

You walk back to the table as slowly as possible, determined to finish breakfast, but something pulls you toward him, like an invisible rope slung around your waist, like his gaze is enough to make you lose all sense of control. And before you know it, you’re straddling his thigh, while he pulls you into a kiss, one that lasts forever yet not long enough, one that sets you on fire more than the sun on your back yet makes you want to expose more skin so more of you will get burned.  

The second his teeth release your lip his hands fly up to rest against your hips, his grip firm but easy to get out of if you wanted to. “Is there something you wanted, baby?” he asks you, innocence written all over his face, as if he truly is completely unaware of the effect he has on you, of the things he makes you want to do when his eyes follow you around like you’re the eighth wonder of the world.

You bite your lip, bite the spot that still feels raw from where he sucked on it moments earlier, and then you start rolling your hips, start chasing the friction to relieve some of the hot, searing pressure that’s been building between your legs since he sucked your finger into his mouth. You see his eyes lower dangerously when he realizes what it is you want from him, and everything shifts, shifts as if the yacht is hit by a strong wave. You’re all too familiar with this change and you know exactly what it means, and what it entails.

One of your hands lands on the collar of his shirt out of its own free will, your fingers clawing at the material in a desperate attempt to steady yourself. The palm of your other hand presses against his warm, sun-kissed chest, your nails eager to leave marks on his skin. But instead of pressing into your touch, he leans back and watches you with mild interest.

This is all the permission you need. You grind your hips with a sense of purpose now, and when you feel the muscles of his leg tense between yours, a small whimper escapes your lips.

He smirks at you, and you know his eyes are sparkling, even though you can’t really see them. “Come on,” he urges you, pressing up into you, “make yourself feel good.”

With a desperate moan, your head falls onto his shoulder, your forehead scraping against his shirt, and you bite your lip because it’s the only thing stopping you from biting the exposed skin of his neck. You know he’d like that, he likes it when you are rough with him, but it also unleashes something in him you want to keep locked away today. You know it’s selfish and greedy, but all you want to do this morning is take, and not think about him.

He makes that resolve very difficult to keep.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asks you, a hand at the back of your neck, trying to get you to lift your head.

You don’t answer him, you can’t, but you indulge him and lift your head again. You pick up the pace, determined to show him how much you like it, how good it makes you feel, but he only smirks at you again, like he doesn’t need an answer anyway, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

And suddenly, suddenly that selfish streak is gone, and you want him closer to you, all over you, inside of you. You don’t care that you have to give up the last bit of control you cling to, and give yourself over completely to him, you don’t care that it’s broad daylight and that another boat could sail into your tiny bay any second now, you don’t care about being discovered or about this being, strictly speaking, illegal. You just care about him fucking you like he does when he has you to himself, sprawled out under him, trapping you with his broad chest and toned arms, forcing you to take whatever he gives you.

But before you can tell him any of that, the hand at the back of your neck is gone and he lifts up his sunglasses and tosses them aside, so you can look right into his eyes, so you can see that you’re not the only one who’s affected by all of this. His gaze roams all over you, from your eyes shining with hazy lust to your legs squeezing around his thigh and your hips rolling with an urgency, pushing you steadily closer to finding the release you’re chasing. But this isn’t enough, you both know that; it’s enough to keep the fire going, but not enough to push you over the edge.

His free hand brushes against the exposed skin of your belly, his fingers run along the seam of your bikini top, and you push yourself forward, willing him to cup your breasts, pinch your nipples, anything, anything to relieve the ache and burning, the feverish craving you feel for his touch, his lips, his words that leave no doubt about who is in control. But he doesn’t give you any of that. Instead, his hand moves to your back to steady you, to hold you in place, and all he does is toy with the strap of your top holding everything in place at the back of your neck.

You don’t know what makes you look down to where your bodies are connected, but you do, and he follows your gaze. You both watch as a dark patch forms on the light fabric of his slacks, as it spreads more and more with each thrust of your hips.

“You’re making a mess,” Javi breathes quietly, so quietly you almost don’t catch it over the sound of the water against the yacht’s hull. His gaze is transfixed, his attention is on the evidence of your arousal as he watches with great interest. You feel heat spread from your chest along your arms and up your neck to your face, but you don’t stop.

“Look at you, princess,” he goes on, his left hand gripping your side tighter to slow you down until you drag yourself along his leg painfully slowly. “Look at how you’re getting daddy’s trousers all wet, they’re probably ruined now.” He pauses at your sharp intake of breath. There’s a dark glint in his eyes when he speaks next. “You’re a bad girl.”

You’re pretty sure the sound you make isn’t human. He lets go of your side and rests his hand on your thigh, letting you set the pace again.

“Please,” you whine, and you don’t quite know why you say it, what you want him to do, you just know he needs to do something, or you’ll go crazy. “Please, Javi,” you repeat. “Please, just … touch me,” you finish, and it’s stupid, he is touching you, just not in the way you mean, but you cannot come up with anything else to say.

“You’re always so greedy,” he observes, not making any move to fulfil your request. “I’m already giving you what you want and still you want more. Don’t you want to be daddy’s good girl?”

You don’t know the answer to that question. You wouldn’t know your own name if he asked you right now. Not because of the things he’s saying but because he raises his leg ever so slightly to push up against your clit and every coherent thought you might have had is drowned out by incoherent sounds leaving your mouth. You press down against him, grinding down with so much force he’s bound to lower his leg. Only … he doesn’t.

“Sorry, I didn’t get that,” he says, a picture of calmness and poise. “Can you repeat that for me?”

You absolutely cannot because you can’t remember what you said in the first place, but you give it another try. “Javi, please, give me something,” you swallow, “anything. Touch me, please.”

“No,” he says, but his voice sounds strained now, like uttering that two-letter word takes a lot of effort. “I want to hear you beg.”

“Please,” you say again, knowing it won’t be enough. “Please, I can’t …”

“Why not?” he wants to know.

“It’s not enough, I ...,” you swallow again, your throat completely dry, “why are you doing this to me?”

“Oh, baby, you’re not even trying to get yourself off,” Javi chuckles. “I know you can do better than that.”

“I am trying,” you tell him, but it’s nothing more than a desperate whine.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he asks you.

And he’s right, it is, it was ten minutes ago when you thought all you had to do was look pretty and he’d fuck you, but now that he’s seen right through you, now that he has decided he doesn’t want to give you anything more than he has to, it isn’t anymore. You want so much more than this, and you know there’s just one way to get it.

With a small movement you change your position slightly until you roll your hips against where he’s straining against the fabric of his slacks, and a low hiss is your reward, followed by a sharp slap to your ass that makes your hips stutter, and you lose your steady rhythm. Both his hands are on your hips again and he pushes you down hard against the firm muscles of his thigh.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he tells you. “I’m gonna give you what you came here for, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Javi,” you groan.

His hands move your hips, his arms straining with the effort of keeping you in place, and you let him, even though all you can think about is his hard cock only inches away from you. You think about him pushing into you, about the filthy, wet sounds it would make, about how he’s the only one who can reach so deep inside of you he makes you see stars with every thrust.

“All right,” Javi says. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “You can have it.”

You’re sure you misheard. You’re sure he didn’t just say that. After all he’s put you through, he won’t give in that easily. But you clench around nothing nevertheless, clench around thin air at the thought of him inside of you.

“Later,” he adds, and your heart almost stops. “I’m gonna fill your pretty mouth, but only if you’re good for me.”

You want to, you’re trying to, but you cannot do this anymore. If he’s not going to touch you, if he won’t fuck you, you have to do it yourself.

One of your hands leaves his strong shoulders and you frantically push the fabric of your swimsuit aside, pressing a finger against your aching clit. You moan in relief, but it only lasts a moment, because his left hand closes tightly around your wrist without any warning, and he twists your arm until he has it in a firm grip pressed against your back. The ring he wears on his little finger digs painfully into your soft skin.

“You were doing so well,” he says with a disappointed sigh.

“It’s not –,” you start, but you’re not allowed to finish the sentence.

“No, it is enough,” he tells you firmly, his eyes boring into yours.

But he does reach up, he does pull the string of your top until it comes loose and your tits spill out. He lets go of your arm but before you can decide what to do with your newfound freedom, his fingers close around your throat at the same time as his mouth closes around one of your nipples.

That’s all it takes.

You arch your back with a scream and come right there on his thigh in broad daylight, while he holds you in place with hands and mouth. It goes on forever, or at least it feels like that, and he’s unrelenting, first sucking one nipple into his mouth, then biting down hard on the other. When it becomes clear he’s not planning on stopping, you grab a fistful of his soft curls and pull him away from your chest with a sharp tug.

“Had enough?” he asks, his lips shiny and slightly swollen.

You nod slowly because you don’t trust your voice right now.

“Well, I haven’t,” he growls. “And I will tell you when you’ve had enough.”

taglist: @badbatches​, @darksber​, @doin-stuff​, @filthybookworm​, @for-my-satisfaction​, @frannyzooey​, @javigutierrez​, @karkii​, @pann-malii​, @raspberrymama​, @silksaddle​, @skeletonstwins​, @skyshipper​, @sunnydunnydays​

[forever-rogue]

Crimelord Boba Fett proposing to female reader and promises to protect her with his life. :)

Did someone say King of the Underworld Boba Fett? Don’t mind if we do. Goodbye Bib Fortuna, long live the King.

Boba Fett x Fem!Reader; warnings: egregious use of little one

Part 2

Star Wars Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

The air is acrid and thick, feeling like it was suffocating you rather than helping to you live. Raising a hand to your face, you looked around the desolate Dune Sea, wondering why on earth you were being summoned to Maker forsaken Tatooine. And who the kriff was summoning you?

All you knew was that you had been summoned from your home on Corsucant - rather forcefully, and dragged back to this hell hole. Under any other circumstances you would have fought back or questioned what was actually going on, but something about the small but imposing woman that dragged you with her caused you to keep your mouth shut. She hadn’t given you so much as a name - hers or your mysterious summoner, and you hadn’t asked.

She’d watched you closely on the hours long ride to Tatooine, seeming to study and observe you with curiosity. At one point you had wanted to snap back at her but the weapons holstered to her side and stowed around the ship made you bite your tongue and bide your time. The woman didn’t say a single word; neither did you.

If you were being taken to your death, then that was that. You’d made that much up in your mind as soon as you’d stepped foot onto the ship. Harsh and cruel as it was too say, there wasn’t much you would be losing, nor would many people miss you. It was a quiet life you led these days, keeping to yourself and your humble abode in a small, but safe corner of Coruscant.

You’d been there, waiting, hoping, wishing ever since - no.

No, no, no. You weren’t going to let your mind back to that dark, haunted place. It was something that still managed to seep into the front of your mind, no matter how many years you tried to suppress them. It was when a man with dark hair would come into your little shop and you’d only catch a glimpse. When you heard deep, rough laughter that was all consuming. When you’d see a hint of green armor. When you’d hear a voice even remotely similar to his...

Boba Fett might have died many years ago, but he had never left your heart. He was still in everything you did, so many little things reminding you of what was and what could have been.

You hadn’t been back to this living hell since the day he’d died, lost to the sarlacc and left only to become memories that would fade away over generations. You’d wanted to stay there, to wait and see if somehow he would come back to you, but you couldn’t.

You’d left the next day and never looked back. You hated yourself for it, but you also...your heart had been broken into hundreds of millions of tiny shards of transparisteel. Ever since, you’d hoped that maybe one you’d come across your lover.

But the day never came. And while you went along with life, you still held onto the slight hope that maybe one day...maybe, maybe, maybe.

A soft sigh escaped your parched lips as you felt immediately all consumed by the sand, like it was becoming a part of you or you were destined to become a part of it. Either way, it was enough to frustrate you as you shielded your eyes from the harsh heat and blazing light of the twin suns.

“Keep up,” it was the first time she had spoken to you since she’d first called your name and instructed you to come with her. She was commanding for a figure so slight, but you had a feeling she was much deadlier than she looked - and she was already a sight. Biting back a groan you picked up the pace and trailed after her, confusion clouding your features as you began to realize where you were headed.

This was Jabba’s Palace...well no - Bib Fortuna’s. Just like Boba, Jabba, the disgusting, foul, loathsome leader of the galaxy’s biggest syndicate had been dead for some time.

What the kriff would Bib Fortuna want with you?

You’d cut off any ties you’d had with any of them long ago, before Boba was even dead. There was no way you could ever provide anything useful to him...

Autopilot had completely taken over and you were barely aware of the fact that you’d reached the palace and were headed towards its inner sanctum. Your stomach lurched as you walked through the walls you hoped would forever be a memory as you realized just how clearly you remember it all. Sure, the place had seen better days, wearing down from the harsh sandy winds and the hands of time, but it was ever the same.

Except this time - few people were milling about, no workers to be seen and it felt surprisingly...tame. Not something you thought would ever be possible for his place. Something had to have happened... something was off-

“Down,” the woman pointed at the stone staircase, her hand on the small of your back as she gently nudged you towards the top step. You were half surprised that she didn’t just completely shove you down to the bottom, but the energy you were getting from her wasn’t mean or negative...just curious.

“W-what?” you managed to stammer, your throat dry and scratchy the heat and lack of water. She quirked a dark brow and pointed at the stairs again.

“Down,” she repeated, “it’s best not to keep him waiting.”

Kriff. You were going to die at the hands of Fortuna. He was a weak man, bolstered by those he keep around him, ego inflated beyond measure. On his own he was a pathetic little thing, but when surrounded by his goons, he was cruel and merciless at worst.

Accepting your fate, you started your slow descend down the stairs, your heartbeat screaming in your ears with each foot fall. Your chest was thumping so wildly you were sure that it would burst through your chest at any point.

But nothing met your ears, there were no sounds, no talking, no music, nothing. It was almost deafeningly silent.

When your feet hit the soft sand floor, you did a quick survey of the almost empty room. A few torches lined the wall, but that was about all. The throne was in the center of the room as it always was and -

Maker. The Throne.

As you looked at it, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked upon the singular figure in the room besides yourself.

The man was in armor from head to toe. Green armor. With red accents. You knew those colors, those colors you once considered your own, those were his colors.

But no - it couldn’t have been. No, no, no, this was an impostor, this was -

“Hello little one,” that voice. You knew it more intimately than anything else, you know that voice inside and out. That voice that had laughed at you a million times, that voice that been in your ear during the heat of passion, the one that teased you, the one that scolded you when you did something dangerous. That voice.

It was his. Boba’s.

“No,” you shook your head as you refused to move closer to the man that was surely a pretender - a great one, but still not your Boba, “y-y-you aren’t...no.”

He remained silent for a long moment, the dark T of his visor trained on your as he refused to look away. You stared right back, as if you were seeing a ghost - in some ways you were.

Slowly, he rose to his full height, stepping down from his throne, imposing as ever as he slowly walked over to you. You stilled in your actions, wondering if you should run away or fight or something. Instead you watched as he came closer and closer and closer - right until he stopped dead in front of you.

“You’re just as pretty as then,” his voice was soft as he reached a gloved hand up touch your cheek. He hesitated before making contact with your skin, stripping the worn leather gloves off and tossing them mindlessly onto the sandy floor. He watched you closely before finally touching your cheek to his see if you would stop him or flinch out of his touch.

But you didn’t; despite believing he was gone all of these years, a small bit of you still had hope.

“Boba?” it was a weak, pathetic little whimper as you keened into his touch. He stalled for just a moment, his heart almost stopping at the sound of his name from your lips. It was even sweeter than he remembered, “is it really you?”

“I told you I’d never leave you, little one,” he rasped as you worked to blink back tears that had started to well up in your eyes. You looked at him with wide doe eyes as he made a small sound in the back of his throat. As a single tear pearled up and ran down your cheek, he tenderly wiped it away, “it just took me a little longer than planned to get back to you.”

And then you laughed; despite the situation and the overwhelming onslaught of emotions, you just laughed. Before you knew it, he was laughing as well, a warm, rich sound that you remembered like it had been yesterday.

“Boba,” you couldn’t believe it. This whole time, all these years, your hope wasn’t wasted after all, “you’re alive. You’re here - I’m here. I-I...I dreamed of this day so many times.”

“As have I,” he promised, “I’m just...I’m afraid that I might be a little different than you last remembered - the sarlacc was not a kind friend to me.”

“I don’t care,” you promised him, “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. You’re alive and that’s all...I...please, let me look at your face. I need to see you, Boba.”

He gave a curt nod before dropping his hand from your cheek and exhaling deeply. Slowly, he put his hands on either of the helmet - newly painted, you noted - and tugged it up and off. You swallowed nervously, anxious to see the eyes of your lover once again.

Boba let the helmet fall to the ground, the thud dulled by the pillowy sand, nervous for you to say something, anything. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting, but this? This was nothing; scarred and more weathered than when he had been a younger man, he was still the same as always. Boba - your Boba.

“At least one of us is - “

Before he could say anything in the negative, your put your hands on either side of his face before crashing your lips onto his. He was taken aback for a moment at your sudden action, but it didn’t take more than a beat for him to wrap his arms around you and hold you tightly against his chest. It was like no time had passed at all, and you still knew each other just as you always had.

Only when you needed a breath of air did you pull apart, staring back into his soft brown eyes.

“Boba,” it was soft - reverent - and worked to thaw the icy harshness that had settled over his heart, “I love you. I’ve always loved you so much. I never stopped. I always hoped that somehow you would make your way back to me.”

“Always, my little one,” he promised with a gentle kiss to your forehead, “I will always protect you. No harm shall ever come to you so long as I live and breathe.”

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” you wrapped your arms his neck and held him, just held him, as the two of your synced your breathing and become reacquainted with each other’s bodies.

“Will you stay?” he asked quietly as you pulled back and nodded. For Boba, you would have done anything and gone anywhere in the galaxy, “w-with me?”

“Yes,” you promised him softly as you traced over his features delicately with the tip of your finger, “always. There’s nothing that would make me happier.”

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered as you nodded, “I promise we’ll never be apart again.”

“I’ll hold you to that Boba Fett,” you sighed contentedly, “I love you, Boba.”

“I love you too, little one,” he kissed the top of your head, “come on, we have much to talk about.”

“And now have all the time in the galaxy.”

[dothwrites]

15.18 coda--the best of things

The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

---

There’s something. 

This is significant because, for as long as Castiel can remember, there’s been nothing. 

The Empty alternates between shoving him forcefully into sleep and yanking him out of it, just so he can experience the full horrors of wakefulness. He wanders and doesn’t know if he’s walking, screams and listens as his cries are swallowed by the darkness. He pulls at his hair just to feel, but even that bright pain is muted. 

I want you to suffer, the Empty had warned, and so far, it’s lived up to its promise. No, he doesn’t regret anything, he’d make the same decisions time and again, as long as they led him here, but he can’t deny that he is suffering. 

It would be better if he could somehow quench the little gutter of light and warmth that still resounds in his chest, but he can never quite manage to do so. Somehow, it still beats, giving him purpose, allowing him to set his compass by its enduring beat. 

And somehow, impossibly, there’s finally something for it to latch onto. 

Castiel walks forward, feeling the sensation of movement for the first time since he can’t remember when. His steps quicken as he runs towards the something, towards something that he almost forgot. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, how many centuries have passed. Time ceased to have meaning a long time ago, and in between bouts of sleeping and waking, Castiel forgot the knack of telling it. Now, he remembers, along with other long forgotten concepts such as fatigue and hope. 

His long neglected heart beats then, violently, with enough force to send him staggering. Castiel runs faster. 

If he were human, if this were earth, then the breath would be tearing out of his lungs. As it is, he feels a ripping in his chest, like he’s shredding apart from the inside out. He feels like a piece of paper torn in half, and he doesn’t know how much of him will be left by the end, but he continues to sprint forward. 

There’s something up ahead. 

A faint golden glimmer, a thread of hope so slender that if he thinks about it too long then he’ll shatter. It twists and turns in front of him, so far in the distance as to almost be a mirage. 

But for once, there is distance. 

Castiel forces his legs to keep moving, even as the pain claws through his chest, ripping into his very essence. Every step brings him the worst pain he’s ever known, but he doesn’t dare to stop. He keeps his eyes fixed on the golden line, now guttering as though it’s struggling to survive. With every step, memories flood back to him. 

The scent of coffee in the mornings when he would start a fresh pot before Dean and Sam awoke. 

The smell of leather and gasoline as he sat in Baby’s backseat. 

The feel of blood and grit underneath his fingernails. 

The salt and butter molecules of popcorn exploding across his tongue as he watches yet another inane movie starring a young Harrison Ford. 

The clear sound of Charlie Bradbury’s laughter. 

The whiff of sulfur that followed Meg, the crisp ozone of Hannah, the tang of what he was informed was an ‘84 and not 19, you have no taste, Cassie, by Balthazar. 

The rough flannel of Bobby Singer’s shirt. 

The whisper of Eileen’s fingers moving through 

The fragile strength of Jack, warm through his jacket as Castiel hugged him for the last time. 

The warmth of Sam’s arm slung around his shoulders, the steadiness of him, the unwavering loyalty, the brightness of his smile and joy of his friendship. 

Dean. 

Dean. 

Dean. 

Breath finally tears out of him as he sprints, pushing legs which refuse to move faster to fly. The golden tear glows in front of him, the only bright thing in an eternity of nothing. He has to reach it. He has to. 

A scream rips out of his chest as he stumbles his way forward. By now the pain is almost overwhelming, obliterating everything else except the most basic desire for survival, but he can’t give up, he can’t, he can’t--

Even in Hell, Dean’s soul glowed like a beacon, even when he lost hope he was still the most beautiful thing Castiel had ever seen. The smoke and whiskey smell of him, the strength and gentleness of his hands, the rumble of his laugh, the rasp and growl of his voice, the careful way he handled delicate things, the light in his eyes as he would look at Sam and Jack, the sheer love he’d seen shining out of his soul--

With a desperate cry, Castiel launches himself forward, straining towards the beautiful golden tear. 

His hand goes through the rip in the world and for a second, there’s nothing, nothing, nothing--

Strong fingers grab his wrist and pull. 

It feels like being tugged through quicksand, the Empty finally realizing that something is wrong and seizing onto him. Darkness covers him, and Castiel can’t see anything, can’t scream, can’t hear. All he knows is the strength of the grip around his hand, the fierce flare of hope in his chest even amidst the ripping pain. 

No, he thinks, with all the force left to him, no, I want--

Something finally bursts in his chest, and he thinks he screams, though he doesn’t hear any sound leave his mouth. Instead, he’s pulled, shredded, torn apart, eviscerated, and then, and then--

There’s light and sound and sensation and touch and smell and taste and a thousand different things like gravity and mass and body and Castiel can only gasp, helpless as a newborn as his sightless eyes blink through all the light. 

He’s shivering, cold and aching, and he’s never felt this kind of pain before, but it’s glorious. He wouldn’t give up feeling like this for anything, the sunburst of agony flaring through his body as he tries to sort through his senses to try and understand where he is. 

Something warm and soft settles over his shoulders and it’s then that Castiel becomes aware of his body, down to his toes and fingers and the tip of his nose. Naked, he thinks, somewhat innocuously, that’s why i was cold. 

Then the larger realization comes, which is, if he was naked, that means that he has a body to be unclothed. 

With a final blink, sight returns, though it’s unreliable. Smears of color appear and disappear from his vision, too quickly for him to hope to make sense of them. Sound returns, in deep rumbles like he’s underwater. Stop, he tries to say, let me just wait a second, but his voice doesn’t seem to work. He opens his mouth and all that emerges is a pathetic sounding croak. 

Syllables garble above him and then something cool and hard is pressed to his mouth. Cold and wet explodes over his lips and tongue, and Castiel thinks Water. 

It’s never tasted this good before. 

He gulps greedily until the glass is taken from him. He whines, wanting more, but his wordless request is denied. Touch explodes over his cheeks, his neck, and shoulders, and Castiel struggles to make sense of it. He would like to rest in the comfort of those hands, but they’re gone before he can process their being there at all. 

The sound coalesces into a single word, and Cas blinks, stupefied. He knows that word. More importantly, he knows that voice. 

He tries to force his rusted voice to work, but only a low croak comes out. Frustrated, he licks his lips and tries again, putting all of his force into the word. 

“Dean?” 

Touch returns to his cheeks and this time, it stays. He blinks again, and the haze in front of his eyes clears, and he can finally see that face, familiar and beloved. 

“Dean?” he asks, sure that he must be dreaming, even though the Empty never allowed him to do so. Perhaps this is a hallucination, a cruel manifestation of his hopes, perhaps he’s still there, in all that nothing, and this is no more than a dream--

“Cas, stay with me,” Dean says, his voice urgent and worried. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” His voice breaks on the last repetition and warmth envelops Castiel. 

A hug. Dean is hugging him, somewhat fiercely, if the lack of air in his lungs is to be trusted. 

Castiel blinks, surprised. He’s never needed air before. Come to think of it, he’s never needed water either. 

He shifts underneath the blanket, careful not to dislodge Dean’s arms from around his body. His palm presses flat against his chest. Underneath it, he can feel his heart, beating steady and strong. 

“Human?” he asks, blinking in wonder. 

Dean’s arms release him, though they take a long time to do so, as though he’s regretful. “Yeah,” he says. Castiel’s eyes aren’t working well enough to pick out the intricacies of his facial expression, but he thinks he sees guilt in the depths of Dean’s eyes. 

“It was the only way to get you out. Sam found the spell and Jack powered it up, and I...” It’s then that Castiel comes aware that one of Dean’s hands is bleeding, is leaving smears of red across the blanket and the skin. “I did what I had to do, but there was a catch.” Dean’s breath hitches for a moment before he looks back at Castiel. “You see, we looked into it, and it turns out that the Empty only cares about angels and demons. Humans, it doesn’t have any power over. So in order to get you out--”

“Human,” Castiel repeats, his mind working through the problem. It’s an elegant solution in its simplicity. The ripping and tearing makes sense, as does the pain. 

Anna described tearing out her grace as the worst pain she’d ever felt, like digging a kidney out with a spoon. Castiel understands. His whole body aches with the memory, muscles screaming for rest, his stomach for sustenance, and his nerves for peace. He doesn’t want to sleep; there’s been too much of that. But he does want to rest. 

“Dean.” Castiel pauses to let the word sit on his tongue, to feel the weight of it. It feels as good as it ever did. 

“Yeah, Cas?” 

Castiel could get lost in Dean’s eyes. Have they always been that green? Have those crow’s feet always bracketed them, like lines on a map, proof of a life well lived? 

“Home?” Castiel finally asks, once he realizes that Dean is waiting for an answer. “Can we go home?” 

Dean’s face splits in a smile, kinder than the dawn and brighter than the sun. “Yeah,” he says, though he makes no effort to move. “Yeah, Cas, we can go home.” 

Castiel tilts his head, wondering why Dean doesn’t move. Instead, he looks like he’s working himself up towards something. His teeth bite at his lower lip, while his eyes dart to either side of Castiel, like they can’t bear to land on his face. An unwelcome spike of fear lances at Castiel’s chest. 

“Dean,” he begins, but a harsh movement stops him. 

“I gotta say this,” Dean says, his voice rough. “What you said, before you were...” He swallows before he finally looks at Cas, his eyes brimming over with tears. “I haven’t been able to sleep in a year because all I could think was that I never had a chance to say it back to you.”

Hope flares and bursts in Castiel’s heart. A happiness so bright it’s searing tears through him, and this time, he can feel it, he can feel it all, he can have it--

“I love you,” Dean says, his unbloodied hand resting on Castiel’s cheek. “I love everything about you, you stupid bastard, and don’t you ever, ever try and leave me again, don’t you ever, you’d better die after me because I’m going to stick with you until we’re old and gross and creaky and we’re going to have to figure out how to have old people sex with all my fake joints and--” 

“Sex?” Castiel’s brain might not be working fast enough to pick up on every word Dean says, but he’s aware enough for that. 

Dean blushes, the tips of his ears turning red. “Yeah. I mean. If you wanted. And if you didn’t want, that’s fine, because i know you said once that angels didn’t--”

“I’d very much like to have sex with you,” Castiel interrupts, because even in his state, he can see when Dean is trying to work himself into a hole. “But not right now.” Exhaustion hits him like a wave, dragging him under and only reluctantly giving him up. He looks up at Dean, finally allowing himself to be weak, allowing Dean to step in and take care of him. “Home?” he repeats, wanting nothing more than to sink into Dean’s bed and rest. 

“Yeah, Cas. Let’s go home.” Dean shifts, but doesn’t move, and Castiel is just about to complain about the lack of progress on the home front when Dean leans forward. His eyes are determined, his lips slightly parted, his hand trembling where it rests on Castiel’s cheek. Fireworks and galaxies explode in Castiel when he realizes Dean’s intentions. 

He’s lived through several ice ages, through meteors and wars, through life and death and rebirth. He’s seen the formation of planets and constellations, seen entire solar systems collapse into themselves only to birth a new sun. 

But he’s never seen or felt anything as wondrous as the first touch of Dean’s lips on his. 

The kiss is soft, barely pressure, but it feels like everything. It feels like a promise and a wish. It feels like a homecoming. 

It feels like a beginning. 

---

Remember, Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.― Stephen King

A star falls from the sky and into your hands. Then it seeps through your veins and swims inside your blood and becomes every part of you. And then you have to put it back into the sky. And it's the most painful thing you'll ever have to do and that you've ever done. But what's yours is yours. Whether it’s up in the sky or here in your hands. And one day, it'll fall from the sky and hit you in the head real hard and that time, you won't have to put it back in the sky again.― C. JoyBell C.

[kimnjss]

OOH DRABBLES!? Can you please do one from groupie love and yn is like whining for Hobi to finish working in the studio so he puts her on his lap and fingers her or something and then she gets all tired and falls asleep

groupie love drabble. explicit. 1.5K words.

>>

you've been here all day. not even an exaggeration, you've been here all day. it was a cute idea on paper. showing up at the studio unannounced to surprise your boyfriend, he always loved when you popped in... especially if you came with snacks. with the hopes of him saying 'fuck it' and turning in early, you bring more than just snacks.

dressed in the dress you know he loves to see you in, a pastel-colored mini that hugged the soft lines of your body nicely. hair pulled back to show off the dazzling necklace he had got for you for one anniversary or another. and then there was the kicker... two large bento boxes in hand with his name on it.

hoseok turns for no more than a few seconds, just enough time to flash you that pretty smile of his. he mouths something, but you don't catch it too focused on the lack of excitement in his features. and then he's turning back to the computer as if you're not standing there waiting for his attention.

maybe he didn't notice it was you. setting the food down on the table, you're moving to stand behind him. a single manicured finger poking into his shoulder just before you're leaning into his view. “helloooo!” nose scrunching at the sight of the large headphone covering his ear, you don't hesitate to pull it back. “baby. you didn't see me?”

all he does is nod, gently pulling the earphone from your grip to secure it back in place. he does, though, lean up to press a soft kiss to your lips – keeping the pout from fully forming. “give me a minute, princess. i'm almost done,” he smiles softly, hand reaching up to pat your head in the way that he does before he was turning his attention back to the monitor.

that was hours ago. the sun had set, and his food had gone cold. you've gone from restless to annoyed at least ten times and you were just seconds from flicking objects at the back of his head. it's bobbing along to the beat of whatever song he's making and while you loved the sight of your boyfriend doing what he loved, you can't help but roll your eyes.

“hoseokkkk!” his name dragged out through a huff as you're hopping back up. “are you done yet?” words falling on deaf ears, he doesn't even budge. you're stomping in his direction, arms crossed over his chest. “are you done yet?” you repeat, stood beside him this time and he doesn't even look!

you're reaching for his ear, but he's quicker than you, jerking his head to the side before you can touch it. oh, so now he wants to acknowledge you. it's an obvious sign to let him work, but you can't bring yourself to care. so once again, you're reaching out – this time for the wire that connects his headphones to the computer. you're tugging it before he can bat your hand away. “are you done yet?”

the angry expression on his face melts into a mildly annoyed one when his eyes land on the pout of your lips at how big and sad your eyes are. “i said one minute, baby.” he speaks much softer than he initially intended.

“you said that three hundred-fifty-three minutes ago,” that has a laugh falling from his lips, eyes shifting to the computer screen where the time is displayed. well after eleven at night and if he remembered correctly, you had come barreling in around five. now he felt bad, it had only felt like a few minutes since you got here.

he's turning his chair to face you fully, arms reaching out to wrap around your waist. easily pulling your body toward his, he's able to maneuver your body into his lap. “i'm sorry, love. i just got caught up... i'm almost done, though.” that's obviously not what you wanted to hear, because you're huffing again, moving to stand from his grip.

hoseok is quickly tightening his arms around your body, keeping you pinned to him. “just a little longer, i promise. why don't you sit in my lap while i finish?” he offers with an all too convincing smile. it doesn't take long for you to loosen up, allowing him to pull you comfortably between his legs before he's turning to face the screen again.

you stay like that for twenty minutes. his hand resting innocently on your stomach as he plays around with the track in front of him. your back is pressed into his chest, the soft breaths he lets out tickling the side of your neck. he's humming, tapping his fingers against your stomach and although you know he's still 'in the zone', it's much better than being sat on that uncomfortable couch.

it's calming, being cradled by him. the way you sink into his chest is involuntary, head resting on his shoulder just so you're able to nuzzle your face in the crook of your neck. the feeling of your soft lips against his skin is what snaps him out of his musically induced trance. you leave a trail of soft kisses, mixing in a few mind-numbing swipes of your tongue.

one hand resting on the other side of his neck, holding him in place as your mouth moves. he doesn't even have it in him to remind you that he has work to do because your mouth feels so good and he can't keep his mind from wandering to how good it feels in other places.

the hand on your stomach moves on its own accord, gliding down the front of your body until his fingers are finding the skin of your thigh. fingers gripping the flesh underneath them, eyes fluttering as you invite your teeth to the party. you're wiggling above him, ass just barely brushing against his covered cock.

that was the farthest thing from your mind, though, your real focus was spreading your legs apart for the next thing that you wanted from him. free hand reaching for his on your thigh, leading it underneath the hem of your dress until it's completely covering your mound.

“fuck,” he's groaning, fingers making quick work to nudge your panties to the side. he finds your clit instantly, the pads of his fingers rubbing slow circles into it. the breathy moans you let out fan over his ear, urging him on. toying with you until your hips are rolling into his touch, slit growing wetter with each push of his finger.

it's not until you're dripping, squirming underneath his touch does he reach down. the tips of his fingers finding your entrance and slipping in with ease. sharp teeth sinking into the skin of his neck to muffle the whine he knows you want to let out. so wet and warm around his fingers, it's a bummer it's not his dick buried inside of you instead.

this was good enough for now, though. he pushes his way past your walls until his knuckles meet your wetness. the pace he sets is slow at first, allowing you to get yourself together, but the moment you're rolling your tongue onto the fresh bite marks – he's picking up the pace.

pulling a gargled curse from your lips as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. you try, desperately, to keep up, hips rolling and bucking into his palm. “hobi-,” your hand searches for something to grip on, going from his thigh to his wrist to your breast. eyes fighting to stay open as the pleasure washes through your body.

you're panting, chanting for him to keep going, so of course, he slows down. fingers reaching deep inside of you at a much slower pace. he's finding the rough patch of skin deep inside of you, teasing it at first before full-on pressing his fingers into it. you're not truly falling apart until his fingers are reaching down to tug on your clit, in rhythm with the way he presses into your gspot.

“already?” he teases, feeling the way your walls tighten around your fingers. smiling smugly but feigning confusion as if he's not speed rolling you to the edge. “let me have a kiss, baby.” he requests and even though your brain is basically mush, you're able to pull it together enough to press your lips against his.

he licks into your mouth, sucks on your lips, swallows every last one of your whiny moans up until you're pulling back to let out a scream. fingers sped up enough to cause a ripple in your thighs and you feel the snap throughout your entire body. incoherent sentences falling from your lips as your body moves in tandem with his fingers.

although his pace gradually comes to a stop, he's not pulling his fingers out until your whines have turned to soft sighs. head heavy with no choice but to lay it on his shoulder, eyes hooded and a dopey smile on your face. hoseok is craning his neck to get a good look at your face, a grin lighting up his features. “feel good?”

you're not sure you remember how to talk, so you're simply nodding your head. a sleepy giggle leaving your lips as you move your face further into your neck. he says something else, but you can't place what it is or what it means – sleeping taking over your body.

[theinariakuma]

Minors and Ageless Blogs DO NOT INTERACT. You will be Blocked. 

Content Warning: Rough sex, mild overstimulation, marking, Trainer! Porco, fem!character, Semi-public sex, unprotected sex, use of names Doll and Slut, Light Prep.

Kinktober Masterlist

When she joined the gym, she hadn’t really planned on getting herself a trainer. She wanted to start getting into shape, so she planned on just coming in after work. But, it seemed that she had a couple of free sessions when she joined the gym, to let her try out and see if she was willing. 

It wasn’t the training that had her wanting to sign up. And she had a feeling that was why the gym trainers were hired. She just picked a random name from the list that lined up with her day off after errands. Reiner, Porco, Erwin, Bertholdt, Ymir, and Mikasa. 

The only one with an open slot when she needed it had been Porco. 

‘I. Am. Screwed.’ Was the only thought running through her hair as she met with the man. She was on the chubbier side, whereas he was tall and muscular. 

It wasn’t just the muscles. It was the cocky grin on his face, the spark in his eyes, the way he didn’t hesitate in looking her up and down. A predator ready to devour its prey. 

“Porco.” He put out his hand for her. “You must be my client for this afternoon.” 

It felt like she’d swallowed her tongue. “Y-yeah, nice to meet you. W-we’ll see if this whole trainer thing works out for me.”

The grin on his face told her that he wasn’t going to let her say no.

Porco was observing his newest client, the woman was getting better. Her goals to get in shape were simple, but she was dedicated. It made him proud to have such a client. 

He found her beautiful, the soft color of stretch marks along her skin, the softness of her body when he’d felt her during their measuring. He loved women in all shapes and forms, but something about her was special, he supposed. 

Though, he didn’t know why he felt such a tightness in his chest when he noticed the marks on her neck. Likely from a lover. Some even on her hips, he’d noticed when she’d bent over during stretching, making her leggings shift on her soft tummy. 

“You got a little…” He motioned to her neck, watching her squeak was the highlight of his day when he saw her. 

“I... “ She sighed. “It was a little fling after a girl’s night.” She didn’t do that often but since working with Porco she was always wound up. “I don’t do it often--”

Another squeak left her as she found herself pushed back against the wall. The private room he’d booked for their session had at least another half an hour before anyone would need the room. “But?” His amber-brown eyes gazing into hers. 

She was stuttering, unable to form a sentence with that intense look on his face. “I… W-well….I…” Every time she tried to speak, her cheeks only grew warmer, feeling it inch down her neck and up to her ears. Her words escaping her each and every time. 

“Was it my fault?” He asked, his body moving closer, head leaning down until his breath was on her neck when he brought his mouth to her neck. “Come on, doll. Did I cause you such a need you went to a stranger instead of comin’ to me?”

When he felt her nod, there was no more holding back as large hands grabbed her hips, dragging her to him. His fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hip as his mouth pressed to her neck. Hot kisses and careful bites over the marks left on her skin. 

The soft moans as her fingers twisted in his shirt were beautiful music to him. “Next time, doll, come to me.” His fingers at her hip began inching her leggings down. “It’s okay, I’ve had such a need since I met you too.” His fingers trailing back up to the soft curves her body held. He loved how plush she was. Soft and warm, just made him want to hold her in his arms… whether or not he was fucking her stupid. 

His fingers dipped under the fabric of her panties, a grin appearing on his face as he was trailing more kisses along her neck, making sure to leave a line of marks along her neck. He wanted anyone who saw her to see she belonged to someone already. “Look at this, doll. Already soaked.” 

Porco was talkative, confident. He said what he wanted, when he wanted, and it only excited her more because he was so sure of himself with her. 

Thick fingers sank into her, thumb toying with her clit as his fingers pushed in deep. “So fucking tight… Fuck, gonna have to stretch you if I want my cock to fit in here.” He knew he’d have to keep her now. He wanted to keep her, to break her daily.

Pulling back to look at her, she was already a mess. Her fingers grasping helplessly at the wall behind her, her back arching slightly as her hips involuntarily bucked towards his fingers, letting her ride them a bit easier. He was lost in her face, however. Lips damp parted as sweet, sweet moans left her mouth. A small line of saliva beginning to leave her open mouth. Typically bright eyes were glazed over with lust and need, rolling back slightly.

Porco loved the fact that she was so sensitive, feeling her inner walls flutter and clench around his fingers. 

“I-inside…. Please.” Her hands reached to grab his wrist, stopping his fingers from pumping inside of her. “I… I want to cum around your cock.”

That alone could have sent him over the edge. Those needy eyes looking at him, her lips pursed slightly into a sweet pout. All of that mixed with her confession. 

Porco pulled her away from the wall to turn her around. “Normally, I’d wanna do this somewhere better. But I can’t say no to you. Not with that face.”

His fingers were shoving his shorts and briefs down his legs, bringing her hips back carefully so her back was arched. “Fuck… you’re gonna be a tight fit for me.” His cock wasn’t overly long, but he was very thick. He made just about anyone a tight fit.

“D-don’t care… I need this.” The bold statement just made him smirk. There was no way he was letting this woman go after this. 

The tip pressed to her dripping cunt, watching her slowly split open as he sank into her. His hand on her hip as he inched his way inside her, feeling how she pushed up onto her tiptoes, listening to her breaths go ragged between the moans and whimpers. 

He could feel how she trembled as his hips pushed against her backside. It was all it took. Her body trembling and her voice turning to desperate whines and moans as her walls clenched and convulsed around his cock as she came. 

“Look at that. You were really fuckin’ needy, doll. Fuck… you feel so good.” His hands tightened on her hips as he began thrusting, not caring that she was still writhing and lost in the middle of her climax, his cock slamming deep inside her, stretching her, hitting all those sensitive spots inside her as he rutted against her backside.

His hands left her hips to pull her away from the wall and against his chest. A hand against her belly, feeling how her muscles clenched and relaxed with his every thrust, as the other moved to her jaw, forcibly turning her head to the side so he could kiss her. 

Moans muffled by the kiss, her body squirming in his grasp as her hips bucked back towards him, his hips roughly rutting against her ass. “That’s it.” He growled against her lips. “That’s a pretty little girl for me. Little slut…” He pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back into her. The powerful thrust sending her already sensitive body over the edge. 

“P-Porco…!” Her body writhed from her climax, making him hold her tighter in his arms as her clenching cunt was forcibly milking him, sending him right into a climax along with her. 

Hot ropes of cum painting her insides. His grip on her jaw was strong as he held her, watching her face as she moaned and panted, drool slipping from the sides of her mouth.

He knew two things. He was never gonna let this woman go after today, and today was far from over. He had no intentions of letting her get away with just one session. It was his job as her trainer to make sure she was able to push her limits with training… and what better way than to train her with his cock?

Thank you to @asmos-pet for the dividers and also thanks to @seraphdreams for looking over this for me. You're both amazing!

[scarletwidowaf]

broadway, baby. (part 1)

Florence pugh x female Reader

Summery: reader is a singing waitress in a new York restaurant (like in glee) where many famous people go to, and one night the little women cast are are there and R is their waitress.

Warnings: there's some cursing and harassment. Its not revolve around it but its there.

A\N: im soft for florence pugh and this is a complete shit.

masterlist

Credits: Glee Gif Credit • Florence Gifs Credit

“I'm just a Broadway Baby, walking off my tired feet, Pounding Forty Second Street to be in a show. Broadway Baby, learning how to sing and dance, waiting for that one big chance to be in a show.” - Cast of follies

Life can be hard and some days can be rough, especially in your line of work where people competed for the spotlight on a daily basis. but that's life and that’s the road you chose to walk through.  And it's alright, after all, what's life without a spark? A movie without a breaking point? or a shift at Clayton's without drama?

This was one of these days, the kind of days who kept you on an edge as your body and mind both ached for a break.

'Just roll with it. just a few hours for your day off.' You silently said to yourself.

Being a young artist in New York was a challenge you’ve taken on yourself, luckily for you working at "Clayton's" was a good way to start a career.  most people who started working there were young talented artist who were determined to make an impression over the industry. The place was always packed with many famous people, from actors to singers and producers. So, in many ways, working in "Clayton's" could be a ticket to Broadway or the music industry. And that was the reason you moved there in the first place.

You tried the traditional way, but after months of trying to get into college and fix your past mistakes, like your high school career, you decided that this path wasn’t for you. no matter what you did or how hard you tried your ADHD still managed to kick your ass. So, that’s how you ended up as a singing waitress in NY. You liked your job, truly. You liked singing and dancing and meeting cool people along the way, but sometimes it was just too much.

"You look like shit" Aaron said from his spot at the bar.

Aaron was a sweet guy and probably the only straight person in your group of friends. He was charming and talented and most importantly; he was the first friend you got in NY.

Aaron pulled his long brown hair into a bun as he chuckled at you. You huffed in frustration in return.

"Thanks" you muttered as he passes you a mug with coffee, hoping to help you get a grip before the restaurant opens.

"You need to rest" he said. "properly" 

"that’s overrated" you joked and took a sip.

You felt an hand on your shoulder and you turned around to meet your friend's stern gaze. "You, okay?" she asked

"Always" you answered Mackenzie's question and she raised her eyebrow, knowing full well you were lying. 

"we should sing as a warm up!" David, another one of your coworkers and Aaron's twin brother said.

"Let's not" Aaron said as he rolled his eyes at his brother's enthusiasm. 

You laughed quietly as the two started bickering. Mack and you glanced at each other knowingly. Both of you already know who will win in the stupid argument.

15 minutes later, after a group warm up and Aaron's dramatic sighs 'Clayton's' was open for business.

It was a nice evening, not too full, not too loud. And most importantly, not too many known faces.

Of course, you liked to have famous people on your shifts, and it could obviously be a game changer for you but it can get intense at times and you want in the mood. Seriously, how can you be the only one who found singing "defying gravity' in font of Idina Menzel as a very stressful experience?? You were terrified by the idea you'll fuck up in front of the original singer- and make a total fool out of yourself. 

When 10 pm rolled around, every opinion you had about the evening flew out the window. at this point, the restaurant was full with costumers and some known faces as well, and you found yourself holding every inch of you together as you approach the table who was occupied by the one and only Meryl Streep, and some fellow little women cast members.  

 *rule number 1 of working at Clayton's: don't make costumers feel uncomfortable. Don't annoy the costumers, don't ask for autographs if they're famous and generally treat them as normal and respectfully as you can. *

 "Hello, my name is Y/N and ill be your waitress for tonight" you introduced yourself with a small smile. The women smiled at you brightly.

"How does it work" Meryl held the tablet with a puzzled expression. "Am I that old?" She joked

"Barley" One of the other women, Emma fucking Watson, said. 

"I know it looks complicated-" you told them as you took the tablet from Meryl's hand."-But it's pretty simple, actually, I promise. As you can see the top part of the tablet is divided into two sections: The right one who says 'ask for a waiter'- which means that your waiter- which in this case, me, is busy- probably performing at the moment, and you can ask for a different waiter." You said with an ease, knowing the explanation by heart.

"The left section says 'ask for my waiter' which is a pretty simple one to understand... I guess- if you'll need me for whatever reason, you can press it and it'll page me. Feel free to use it."  You said with a smile as you scanned their faces, making sure they understand the first part.

"And the bottom section?" Saoirse asked. 

"The bottom section is the 'refill' sections. It will get into validation only after ill place your order in my own tablet and send to the kitchen." You explained as you gestured to your own tablet. "It's pretty useful, the point of it is that you can ask for a refill without having to social with me. Its awesome"

You noticed one of them, Florence pugh, scanning the tablet with a small smile- as she listened to your explanation. She was absolutely a sight for sore eyes, that's for sure.

"Thats pretty cool" she said and you nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I got really excited over it when I started working here" you admitted awkwardly "most importantly- When a section isn't relevant its will be grey instead of in color so you won't get confused. Like, for example - if You haven't ordered anything yet you can't get a refill, for the obvious reason. or if I'm not performing you can't ask for another waiter... which means you're stuck with me for the time being" you finished with a small chuckle.

"I don't think any of us mind that" Florence smiled and the others agreed. The blonde smiled at you again and you blushed slightly. "You're singing, right?" she asked out of the blue, just when you were about to leave and let them look through their menus. 

"Yeah, i do. In a few minutes, actually" 

"Thats cool! Good luck" she smiled and you wondered if Emma, who set the closest to you, could hear how fast your heart's beating. 

"Thank you" you said with a smile and turned around to the stage. 

__________________

"you paged? I'm guessing you guys ready to order then" You said as you approached their table after your performance. 

"YOU WERE SO GODD!" Florence said excitedly.

"Thank you" you blushed slightly. 

What. The. Fuck. Y/N?! You scolded yourself.

The others joined into the conversation with their own compliments and you thought you'd die when Meryl Streep, the legend herself, complimented you.

After another few moments the conversation calmed downed and moved to the next, and most important topic: the food. You tried your best to not blush under Florence's soft gaze and keep your focus on the other members of her table as they consulted you about the dishes, but damn, that was hard.  luckily for you it didn’t take long and a few minutes later, their order was sent to the kitchen. 

 The next hour and a half weren't much different. you sang and placed orders, you smiled to costumers and even pretend to laugh at some old man's joke. And maybe (just maybe) you glanced over to Florence every now and then.

The thing about Clayton's is that apart for the famous people who visit there frequently, it also contains many of the rich and the snobs of New York, so you weren't surprised when you got paged from a table who was occupied by two guys with fancy clothes and their parents credit card.

"Hey" one of them said to you as you approached them. 

"hey, welcome to Clayton's! You're David's table, right?" You said and pointed at your friend who started his own performance.

"Yeah, the fag one" the other guy said and your smile fell.

Take a deep breath, Y/N. It's not worth it. 

"I see you guys already ordered a few minutes ago" you said as you checked your tablet.

"Yeah" the asshole confirmed. 

"Okay, in that case, how can I help you?" You asked politely as you could. 

"we would like to get the check." The first guy said politely as he pulled out a few bills from his wallet. "Keep the change" he said as you took it and made sure it was enough.

"Thank you" you smiled politely and made a mental note to give David his well-earned tip.

"my brother want to know if you're single" the asshole said and the nicer guy looked at his with his eyes wide.

Shit.

"I'm sorry, I'm in a relationship" you lied after a moment, hoping the lie will spare both his feeling and any more questions in the subject.

The guy nodded in understanding but on the other hand, the other guy didn’t seem to get the massage.  

"I'm sure he won't mind sharing" the asshole said and you felt sorry for the poor guy for being related to this ass.

"What the fuck Chad" the nice guy said as chad smirked at you.

"yeah... that’s not going to happen." You glared at him "have a great weekend tho" you gritted out and turned around to leave.

you were taken by surprise when you felt chad's hand on your ass. Again, what the fuck?!

"What the fuck is wrong with you' asshole" you gritted out and moved away from him. 

Don't make a scene. He's not worth it. 

"C'mon-" he started to say as he got up. You moved away, knowing you were cornered since the place was full, the lights were deemed and the music was loud. 

"Don't touch me" you said and moved away; you're back hitting an empty table who stood nearly.

"Hey what's going on here?" You heard and turned to catch Florence walking to you.

If a look could kill chad would’ve been dead. that’s for sure. It's like the sweet and excited Florence had left and a different, intimidating (and hot) version of her took her space and so help you god, you were glad she was on your side.

"Nothing! we were just leaving, really" Frankie said.

"None of your business" brad said and Florence raised her perfectly shaped eyebrow, daring him to cross her.

"I see" she said "well, I'm sure y/n won't mind my intruding" 

'Thank god for Florence Pugh.' You thought.

Before chad could press the subject any further David, who just finished his performance, got there. You were sure he noticed that something was happening.

"what's going on here?" he asked after he scanned the situation quickly.

"nothing as I said to your friend, we were just leaving" Frankie said again. 

he didn’t want to draw any negative attention, just like you, and thankfully for the both of you, not many people noticed the situation.

This time chad didn't answer, he just glared at Florence and you while his brother pulled him away from the place.

"so, are you going to tell me what happened?" David asked Florence and you after the two left.

Florence looked at you, waiting for you to answer him. 

"Nothing" you lied. "it's okay David, you can go" you promised your friend. David looked at you with his 'I done believe you' expression, but he didn't press it any further. He just nodded before he turned around and left. 

 Rule number 2: do not make a scene under no circumstances. At Clayton's, everything you do while you're on the clock is practically showcased. You slip? you fall? you sing out of tune? Its under a spotlight, everyone can see that and everyone will have something to say about it. Thats the thing about this place.  most people who started there and moved on to bigger things as Broadway or Hollywood were practically trained to keep their best poker face, act on the demand or pretend that everything is okay when it was clearly not. 

 "You should go back to your table" you said to Florence 

she looked at you with an unreadable expression before she went back to her table. You didn't have much time to read into it since a few minutes later you found yourself at her table, printing their check and having a small friendly conversation with the women. You smiled at them as they left before you turned your tablet off and went to cover for Aaron at the bar.

 "I thought you guys left" You said with a smile when the blonde approached you a few minutes later. 

"Why did you lie?" Florence asked with the same unreadable expression from earlier.

Okay. No smiling then.

"I didn’t" you pulled out two shot glasses and filled them with tequila. The blonde gave you a 'are you kidding me' kind of look and you couldn't help but to chuckle. "I didn't see a reason to make a scene over nothing" you explained and downed one of the shots.

"It wasn't nothing Y/N" she said before taking the other glass. 

"its fine. I'm fine. He didn’t do anything " you said as she downed her shot.

"Yeah, because I was there" she argued.

"I can handle guys like him. Seriously, at this point it might as well be a part of my job" 

"you're not helping yourself"

"I liked you better smiling" you chuckled as she glared at you.

"I'm sure you did"

"shut up" 

"How's your back?" She asked/

The blonde definitely didn't seem convinced about the chad situation but you were just grateful for the change of subject.

"It will be alright"

"Good"

"I appreciate your worry, truly. But I'm fine and I really don't want to hold you back here over it" you said  

"Who said I was worried" she smirked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh, you don't?" You played along 

"Nope"

"Then why are you still here? Its almost 12 am, don't you have something better to do" you teased her 

"no. Do you?" She turned the question and you laughed. 

"I guess not - considering the fact I work here and I'm still on clock"

"Oh, please we both know this place is about to close" she argued your logic

"True" you admitted

"So, if you have nothing better to do, and you don't, would you like to go out with me? You kinda owe me after I saved your ass earlier"

"Uh, and here I thought you did that as an act of kindness" you joked. A small smile playing on your lips.

"Ew no" she said and You laughed. "Well?" Florence pressed with a cheeky smile.

"Yeah, why not. It's not like I have something better to do" 

"Just what I wanted to hear" she joked.

[hobilluvvr]

lost ocean troubles | 2

college au! sub!armin x dom!reader

words - 2.7k

warnings - vomit, blood, mentions of abuse , injuries

parts - |

~

so incredibly sorry for this late update but testing season is approaching and I need to study sadly :/ this part is very rough with spelling errors and grammar but will be revised later !

please enjoy this update and constructive criticism is always welcomed :D . If you want to be added to the tag list please don’t hesitate to ask !

taglist - @haikyoonn @kenmas-nintendoswitch

~

The flowers had this magnificent pale blue color to them, the sun hitting them just at the right angle and the sage leaves accented the stem, the weight of the beautiful petals making the stem slightly wilt downwards .

this piqued armins interest, so much so that he walked towards them , feet trudding against the soft sand. As he comes close the overwhelming smell of coconut with a hint of sea saltseasalt overwhelmes his senses, his nose srunching up in question, the scent resembling of clean linen,a quite odd observation , even more so for a flower .

Just as he reaches to pick the flower up, the sun all of the sudden blazes furiously, the rays bouncing everywhere and blinding armin, now groaning as he squirms in abrupt discomfort. His feet dig at the sand … or what was the sand… the feeling of plush fabric instead meeting his skin, surrounding his body in comfort and warmth.

Snuggling further into this random source of heat, the sudden realization hits him. His eyes open the tiniest bit and he stops for a moment … this isnt the beach… in fact he’s laying on a bed… an unknown bed

At this his body jolts upward and armin frantically looks around his surroundings, the white pillows and the grey blanket not correlating in his mind as his. ‘This isnt my room’ the panic quickly sets in, quickly throwing the blanket aside and standing up abruptly which proves to be a grave mistake as a headache and the urge to vomit surges up his throat.

He clutches his stomach as he runs to the bathroom ,quickly kneeling over the toilet, emptying the contents of his stomach, the acidity already making his throat burn angrily. The sound of quick footsteps echo the walls and he goes to turn his head towards the door when the second round of bile threatens to escape his throat.

His ingers clutch the toilet ,violently puking when a second presence is felt . armin feels someone kneel next to him and gently rub at his back

“Its okay , its okay ,let it all out “ you push his bangs away from his face while the other hand rubs at his back . armin lifts his head up ,groaning as he moves away from the toilet feeling his head throb way too violently.

You hand him the cup of water and pain killer you set down when you entered the bathroom

“Here take this, dont move too much . your head is most likely killing you” he takes the items and pops the pill in his mouth quickly downing it with the water. When he sets the cup down he looks at you ,eyes squinting, clearly confused

“Where am i ?”

You chuckle lightly, standing up and lean against the counter “you dont remember anything do you huh?” the boy sitting on the floor thinking ...

Suddenly armin visibly stiffens, his cheeks flushing “uh w-ww di-idnt do i-it ,rig-ght?” his eyes all of the sudden finding great interest on the floor tiles .

You give him a light smile and laugh even louder this time “no, no we didnt ,dont worry about that. Here cmon” you reach out a hand to lift him up off the floor

He takes your hand sheepishly ,shoulders relaxing in relief, his red cheeks calming down “ then what happened? Why am i here ?” he asks following you out of the bathroom and into the room.

You cringe at the events that happened the previous night and you wonder if you should tell him everything. You head over to your drawers and open them, turning your back to the stumbling boy “well you got extremely wasted and this creep saw that you were alone and he tried messing with you but i took care of it”

your hands clench harshly at the shirt you were holding thinking about the old fuck. God humans can be pieces of shit

“Oh.” armins bit his lip and he desperately tried to remember exactly what happened , your answer being quite vague , but this did nothing but make his head throb once again . wincing in pain he goes to lifts his hand up to hold his head when he notices the bandages around his wrists ‘what happened ?did i get injured ?’

After picking out what you needed , you turned to face him and you catch his line of sight , looking at his wrists . as if you heard what his thoughts you say “ the perv was being really aggressive towards you and he injured you quite badly but i brought you up to my apartment and fixed you up a bit “giving him a warm smile you hold out the clothes you had previously searched for

“ here , take this and clean your self up a bit then i can take you home, yeah ? you got a little bit of a stain forming on you “ you chuckle, head nodding towards the vomit on the shirt before walking out ,leaving him in the room alone

His eyes widen at your comment immediately rushing to the bathroom and sure enough his vomit is all over the shirt , the mirror reminding him of his earlier commotion . armin sighs in embarrassment ,blue eyes scanning his appearance, finally now knowing how much of a hot mess he looks like . he notices another bandage on his face, his cheek specifically , a bit of blood staining the white bandage along with another few scratches all over his face.

His finger traces around his facial injuries ‘wow, what exaclty happened last night ?’

He shakes his head , not wanting his head to pound again, instead just focusing his attention on the shirt you gave him noticing that it looks similar to the dirty one he is wearing currently.

‘Oh god …..dont tell me …. Im wearing her clothes ‘ the realization hits him and his ears turn an angry shade of red. ‘God how much more of a burden can he be to you ?’ he groans before closing the bathroom door

…

As soon as you close the door , your eyes land on a very dishevled eren leaving his room , hand shielding his squinting eyes away from the harsh sunlight “what happened ? i heard what sounded like someone vomiting” his morning voice rasping out, following you to the kitchen and sitting down on the kitchen bar stool

“Oh he woke up and well... , you know how hangovers are like “ you open the fridge , scanning the interior “wait why is the fridge empty ? i thought i told you it was your turn to go grocery shopping this time ? what happened ? “ you frown turning towards him, crossing your arms

Eren only yawns and stretches his body, not seeming to mind that you were glaring holes at him “dont you remember ? i couldnt go so you said we’d go together after we ate something yesterday but then you got too caught up fighting someone if i recall correctly ” he confidently said, fingers tapping at his chin , eyes meeting yours, glaring back.

You sigh giving up “ ahh yeah i remember now….” you take a quick glance around the kitchen and see nothing of nutritional value “ the hell are we going to eat then ? and why didnt you clean up the medical supplies from last night ?” you badger him looking at the medical supplies messily strewn all over the counter

Eren scrunches his face , hand running through his bedhair, still groggy from just waking up a few minutes ago “ we can always just doordash something” he picks up the bottle of rubbing alcohol remebering how you carried armin into the apartment when he passed out and set him on the couch leaving eren to tend to his wounds.

*

Just as armin was falling , passing out after just vomiting all over you , you quickly grab at his waist and preventing him from hitting his head on the floor . the stench of the vomit was awfully intense and you scrunch your nose trying to stop the smell from affecting you “ can you be any faster over there ? you tease seeing him struggle with the keys , his fumbling being weirdly endearing somehow

“Im trying , im trying. I swear this cold is messing me up or something “ he puffs out now fumbling with inserting the key right . you roll your eyes upon seeing this , giving a light chuckle before reaching a hand underneath the blonde boys legs and bringing them towards your chest, effectively lifting him up bridal style.

You walk into the apartment and set the boy softly onto the couch before looking down to the mess that your clothes are in , heading towards the bathroom “ hey eren could you patch him up for me ? i have to clean myself up before he’s not the only one with body fluids all over the floor.” you smirk

Eren scoffs “dont you go throwing up on me , you hear ? i just mopped the floors yesterday and im sure as hell not letting you mess my hard work up “ he hears your distant laugh down the hallway , before the sound of boots fade, leaving him alone with the boy

Eren looks at the boy slowly sliding down on the couch and ultimately sighs before going to the cabinet where all the medical supplies are stored. He opens it while lowly muttering “just cause my dad was a doctor and he taught me a few things doesnt mean i have to tend to everyones wounds “

Grabbing a few bandages and bandaids, and rubbing alcohol, he grabs a stool and places it in front of the boy. ‘Your injuries shouldnt be that bad ‘ he thinks before he lifts the boy and positions him upright. Immediately the sight of scarce blood and vomit greets erens eyes . eren winces in slight sympathy and disgust before he wipes armins face clean with the cloth he has in hand and disinfecting the wounds next

The rubbing alcohol stirred a reaction out of the blonde boy seeing as he squirmed in discomfort , the position he was put in faltering, falling into the nearest thing, which so happened to be erens chest, more specifically his neck

Eren was flustered ,not knowing what to do he freezes , his ears turning red upon feeling the shallow breath of the boy on, his sensitive neck . Eren looks down and he admires the peaceful features on the petite boy .’he looks so peaceful, pretty even ‘ eren stares for a bit before he snaps out of it and pushes the boy off his chest , tending to his wounds , doing what he first came to do.

*

“ i left the supplies out because i knew i would have to tend to your wounds too “ he gets up , walking to the other side of the bar, heading where you are

You squint your eyes in visible confusion “ my wounds ? what are you talking about ?” he scoffs rolling his eyes, “dont play dumb with me , you beat up someone to a bloody pulp and dont expect any damage to your hands, more specifically your damn knuckles ? “

He reaches down, grabbing your hand and lifting them up as to make a point “look at this “ you look down towards your hand and the sight of multi colored bruises,blood and even some open skin greets you.

“ you didnt let me tend to them yesterday so let me do it now “ you meet eyes and his are practically pleading you, but before you get to open your mouth to say anything, you hear rustling and you look behind eren to see what it is .

Armin is awkwardly standing there in the living room, the clean shirt you gave him reaching his knees , and the sweatpants a bit too baggy . you have to physically stop yourself from cooing , the sight being way too adorable for you to handle this early in the morning

Eren senses his presence as well , turning around , both of you guys forgetting about your previous conversation . you clear your throat, sensing some sort of tension in the room “ hey youre finally out ! i was going to make you something to eat but turns out the fridge is empty “ you rub your neck sheepishly , making a mental note to go grocery shopping asap .

Armins eyes widen at this , his hands extending and quickly shaking “ oh no no , please you dont have to, i dont want to be more of a bother than i already am ,” he shyly looks down at the floor , swinging his body , slightly nervous

You smile seeing his cute habit of not making eye contact, fetching your car keys off the wall “ well i bet youre missing your home right ? i can drive you home now if you want “ you also grab the plastic bag off the floor by the corridor

Armin seems to stiffen again , eren now chuckling , his hands stuffed in his sweatpants , noticing how the blonde boy seems way to nervous around you guys . armin looks at eren momentarily before he looks at the floor again ‘ how the hell do you guys look so good this early in the morning ‘ he thinks ‘ meanwhile here he is looking all messed up ‘

“I actually dont live too far away, i can walk home by myself “ armin lies straight out of his teeth , clearly not doing it well judging by the look of your face . youre not convinced seeing as the whole reason why he’s here in the first place was because he was wandering alone.

“ id feel much better knowing that someone is walking you home , i dont want a repeat of what happened yesterday .” you bite your lip, now staring more intensely at the boy in front of you

Armin mentally groans ‘ damn you and your kindness, why cant you get the hint that he doesnt want to hassle you any longer ?’

“Well um … “ he pauses, intensely thinking of a solution that doesnt involve him burdening you guys any further when he hears some shuffling and then someone handing a phone to him. Armin looks up and green eyes stare back at him

“Do you have anyone you can call ? a friend maybe to come pick you up ? “ eren suggests , reading right through the boy

“ o-oh y-yes i do umm thank you , for your phone i mean “ armin scrambles to take the phone and calls his roommate , knowing for sure she is freaking out about his whereabouts

He hands the phone back to eren and shuffles his feet “ luckily she is around the area and can pick me up in 5 minutes , i can wait outside …” you ponder for a second at this suggestions , before ultimately nodding

“Yeah sounds like a solid plan , okay , here take this bag before you head out “ you hand it over and armin looks at you and tilts his head slightly “ its your clothes from last night , i washed them and folded them , oh and your bag is also inside “ you explain while he peeks at the contents inside grief striking his face

‘How much exaclty did you do for him , he’s the worst guest ever in history , throwing up all over your bathroom ‘ he cringes at the thought. He's definitely gonna think about this experience at night,when he reminisces about all the embarrassing moments he's had in his lifetime

“Thank you guys so much for all youve done , i really do appreciate it “ armin rubs at his nape laughing out softly “ well i should get going “ he goes to the entrance, hand on the knob

“Yeah absolutely no problem , take care pretty boy ! “ you say waving , smiling brightly when you see his cheeks flush once more , eren just nodding goodbye . he waves a small goodbye before leaving , closing the door gently . sighing in relief when he got out.

Armin walks out into the street and sure enough there is his roommate , waiting and the look on her face looks not so pleasantly happy .he knows what is going to happen. he opens the car door ready to hear her badgering soon enough

“Look , mikasa , i can ex-” not so shortly as he begins his sentence, she yells out

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOUVE BEEN ? DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED SICK I WAS WHEN YOU DIDNT PICK UP MY MANY PHONE CALLS ? ARE THOSE BANDAGES IM SEEING? “ armin winced at her reprimations, slowly sinking further into the passenger seat as she kept rambling, knowing that he has to face her wrath for the whole drive home .

he still has no clue as to what exactly happened last night, the only thing he can do is hope his memories would come back soon and clear up his many questions

[shootybangbang]

In which peaches are eaten in more ways than one

[Pairing]: Arthur Morgan/Reader

[Rating]: Explicit

[Prompt]: Arthur watches you seductively eat a juicy peach (from @outtricking)

[Ao3 Link]

———

The abandoned manor’s peach orchard is overgrown with tall grass and small white clusters of wild carrot blossoms. Most of its trees stand bare, choked with ivy, the vastness of their skeletons the only testament of their former grandeur. But here and there are straggled survivors, the majority of which have long since been picked clean by other travelers and passing wildlife. The only fruit left is strung up high in the topmost branches, hanging down golden-edged and plump. Ripe enough to make your mouth water.

“I don’t think climbing’s an option,” you say, pressing down on a tree’s lower branches to check its give. “We could get a big stick and try to knock ‘em off, or maybe you could just… uh… y’know… ”

You mime picking up an object and placing it on your shoulders.

Arthur sighs. “You want me to carry you.”

“It’s quicker and easier than anything else.”

“You ain’t paid me to be your horse.”

“That’s true,” you admit. At this point, the number of things you’ve had him do out-of-contract would probably fill a book. A decent person would concede his point and apologize. Instead, you try out a more oblique method. “And I’m probably too heavy for you, anyway.”

He gives you an irritated glance and shakes his head. “You tryin’ to bait me into provin’ you wrong?”

“Figured it was at least worth a shot,” you say, shrugging.

Arthur looks up at the top branches of the fruit tree, then at you, and works out a rough height comparison in his head. He sighs again and kneels down. “Alright then. Get on.”

“What — really?’

“Don’t wanna hear you complainin’ about this later is all.” He looks back in your direction expectantly. “C’mon. You want them peaches or not?”

You place a tentative hand on his right shoulder, leaning against him for support as you swing one leg over his left. “Then do I just… um… like this?”

“Yeah. Just like that. And now the other — yeah, there we go.”

Arthur steadies you by holding down your knees. He grips you firm but gentle, like a man trying to keep something frail and flighty from slipping between his fingers, and stands up.

The sudden shift in balance is startling. Your hands frantically search for something to hold onto for support, and you end up grabbing at his wrists as you reorient yourself. He stiffens at the contact, but says nothing.

When you’ve straightened your back enough to survey your surroundings from your new vantage point, you take a moment to appreciate the new perspective. “So this is what it’s like to be tall. Bet you run into a lot of spiderwebs.”

Arthur ignores this. “Can you reach ‘em?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You twist off a particularly large peach from a nearby branch and take off your hat to use as a makeshift basket, then swivel your hip to reach towards another that’s just barely within your grasp. “Too bad we’re not close to town”, you say, thinking already of possible desserts. “Sophia told me that over in Georgia they eat peaches with cream and sugar, and…”

For a while, you ruminate dreamily about peach cobblers and preserves, about the luxury of vanilla ice cream melting on latticed peach pie. And all the while Arthur clenches his jaw and tries as hard as he can to concentrate on what you’re saying in an attempt to divert his focus from the weight and warmth of your thighs atop his shoulders.

It’s something that he’ll carry with him for some time, he recognizes with a heavy pang of guilt. Something he’ll almost certainly keep carefully tucked away for later, when he’s alone in his own bedroll.

———

Late afternoon, you help him set up camp along the Kamassa River. After the horses have been watered and the kindling gathered, you both sit sprawled and weary against the ruined hull of an old boat half-sunk in the sand.

Resting his head against the sun bleached boards, Arthur briefly closes his eyes.

Through the woods comes the sound of cicadas, deafening in their multitude, ringing like an omnipresent hum, insistent and rhythmic in its cadence. Like a chant, a soft murmur of chitinous voices. Alongside it, the quick, clear notes of riverwater running through the rocks and the rustle of leaves overhead, the sway of branches arching from the wind in slow, lazy waves that merge overhead like a green sea.

And the distinctive scratch of graphite across paper. He drowsily cracks an eyelid open and angles his gaze downwards.

The battered notebook in your lap looks like it’s seen its fair share of miles. It’s tattered and dog-eared, with smeared ink at its edges. The leather cover is scuffed and stained, and the pages don’t quite sit flat, due to the occasional pressed flowers trapped between them.

He watches you scrawl out what looks like a brief itinerary of the day’s route, listing off landmarks passed along the road and detailing what flora and fauna you’re able to remember. Then little snippets of description that you cross out and rewrite with increasing frustration, disjointed but pretty little phrases littering the margins…

Your pencil stills. “You’re reading over my shoulder.”

“Trying to.” Arthur points to the corner of the page, where you’ve drawn a wobbly line with little stick trees atop it. Under it is a crude half-circle labelled boat. “This supposed to be where we’re at now?”

You bristle. “Yes.”

He gropes for something inoffensive to say, then opts for silence.

“Well, you’re the artist,” you say, offering him your pencil. “You draw it.”

“Sure,” he says, taking both notebook and pencil in hand. He flips to a clean page. “Not like I can do worse.”

Brushing sand off the seat of your pants, you stand up and stretch, raising your arms high and fitting your fingers together like interlocking gears. “I’m gonna go check on the peaches.”

———

The Kamassa runs cold, even in the dog days of summer. Earlier, you’d wrapped the peaches in sackcloth and submerged them in its waters, then ringed them tight with rocks to hold them in place. Now, you cut an inelegant figure as you crouch at the river’s edge and fish one out, cupping it thoughtfully against your palm to check whether it still holds the fading glow of afternoon heat.

You pick out the two biggest peaches in the pile before resecuring the rest, then seat yourself back beside him and proffer one to him.

Arthur shakes his head. He’s in the middle of sketching the sandbar in the middle of the river, drawing the shapes of shrubs and other assorted vegetation out from the blank paper expanse. “Don’t wanna get the page dirty.”

“Make sure you eat one later then,” you tell him. “So you don’t die in a ditch before I can hire you out again.”

He snorts. “Didn’t realize peaches could make a man bulletproof.”

“Ah, well… it’s more of a superstitious thing, really. Like knocking on wood or throwing salt over your shoulder.” A hint of embarrassment creeps into your voice. For a moment you seem almost shy — but then you toss a peach up in the air and catch it again, like a performance of the world’s worst juggling act, and it passes. “You give people peaches for good health and a long life. Considering your line of work, I figure you need all the help you can get.”

“Figure a decent gun’ll do me more good than any peach ever will,” he says wryly. “You eat ‘em both. God knows you need the luck just as much as I do.”

———

The rippled light reflected in the water is only just beginning to tint gold. The horizon edges pale, shifting slow to the soft, warm shades of early evening. But only the faint suggestion of it, a subtle gradation filtering in imperceptibly at the present, but that he knows will flood in all at once with the inevitable trajectory of the sun.

Golden hour, Mason had called it. Goes quick, but it’s worth it. I’ve known some photographers to set up camp and wait all day for just that little window of time.

The landscape itself feels soft and heavy, almost drunk from its own perfect interplay of light and dark. The clarity of day dims to a suggestion of itself, and everything is briefly gilded, momentarily transfigured into something striking and achingly pretty, and you no exception.

A sliver of sunset settles over your skin. A veil of amber, a veil of rose, both colors folding in on themselves like silk. The glint of light that reflects across your irises makes visible the ridged corona circling your pupils, the tiny crenellations and impurities of color. Bright and sharp as cut glass.

He watches you bite into a peach, and its dusk-pink skin breaks beneath your teeth with a wet, crisp noise as you tear through to the soft and yielding flesh beneath. Then you bite down again, and your lips are shiny with nectar now, dripping with it.

A clear rivulet of peach juice runs down your wrist like blood. You raise your arm to your mouth to catch it, then trace it back to its source with your tongue, and he can’t help but wonder at the taste — the sweetness of fruit mixed with the salt of your skin.

“Oh, these are really good,” you say with pleasant surprise. “Sure you don’t want one?”

Arthur tries to suppress the sudden twinge of arousal running through his body by staring very hard at a tree. “I’m sure.”

When he’s finally able to settle himself to a manageable level of sexual frustration, he forces his attention back to sketching. He lays out the wash of sand and silt that lies liminal between woods and water, then the ridge of grass that marks the river’s reach when swollen with rain and spring melt. The twinned, twisted alders on each shore whose roots hold fast to the ground as their boughs reach over the water and towards each other, like doomed lovers. The gaptoothed boat hull half-buried and long abandoned.

By the time he’s finished, both peaches have been reduced to their pits, and the light has begun its transition to a deepening red. A last brief cry of sunlight before it’s stifled by the cold blue of evening.

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, when he hands the notebook back over. “If you finally get tired of robbing stagecoaches, you should do this for a living instead.”

He makes a dismissive noise, but there’s a clear look of satisfaction on his face. “You flatterin’ me because you want another favor?”

“No, I’m serious. This is pretty enough to belong in a book.” You touch your fingers to the page with the kind of care he’s only seen you lavish on the things he’s known you to hold very dear: the faded red hair ribbon, the well-thumbed guide to wildflowers, the thin jade pendant you sometimes wear tucked under your shirt… and now this — just an offhand scribble of his of no particular effort.

“I, uh… it’s a real rough sketch.” A flush of embarrassment colors his cheeks, and it’s obvious to anyone with eyes in their head that for him, compliments are a gift as rare as they are precious. “Next time you hire me out, I’ll sit down and draw you something proper.”

“I’d like that,” you say, and nod. “I’ll hold you to it.”

———

A few hours later, Arthur sits by the fire and tries to measure the exact depth of the idiocy he’s plunged himself into.

You’d gone to bed first, citing exhaustion. And he’d taken the time spent alone to jot down a few thoughts in his journal, attempt a handful of sketches, then inadvertently kindle in himself a desperate, hopeless need for intimacy so intense that, were he truly on his own, he’d not have hesitated to take himself in hand for relief.

It’s a foolish thing to do, encouraging his own infatuation like this. But the images are fresh in his head still and his hand itches to put them to paper, wanting to keep them somewhere beyond the whim of memory.

And so he traces with his pencil the soft, indulgent cast of your eyes as you’d cupped the peach in your hand, bringing it to your mouth with the simple decadence of Eve and her apple: the innocent gesture embodying something intensely sinful. Each bite near tangible in his blood, as though it were his heart in your teeth, its every painful beat an ache of barely suppressed impulse.

Then the drip of nectar down your wrist, the pink flick of your tongue lapping it up with a quick, smooth glide across your skin. Peach juice glistening on your lips like honey. And his own base reinterpretations of it all, distorting reality to innuendo and bringing to the surface things he’s only let himself imagine in the confines of his cot, with the tent flaps drawn tightly shut.

The weight of your thighs on his shoulders comes to mind again, and if he shuts his eyes he can nearly place himself into that oft-used fantasy of his — you, sat on the edge of a hotel bed with him knelt before you, whispering hoarse and breathless praise as he licks into you. Your fingers running through his dark blond hair as you speak to him like a favored pet.

The flat of his tongue running against your clit with slow, careful strokes. Your desperate whimpers as he draws the nub between his lips and sucks, the tremble of your body, the taste of your slick. The sound of his name on your lips, the syllables of it faint and shivery with pleasure.

And afterwards, the sight of you sprawled across the sheets, eyes dreamy and soft as you beckon him towards you. Take out your cock, you’d say. Show me just how much you liked doing that to me.

Arthur closes the notebook and walks down to the river. He dips his hands through its surface, the reflected moonlight there rippling into a bright mosaic of broken glass in his wake, then cups the cold water between his fingers and splashes it over his face.

“Dirty old man,” he mutters to himself. “Oughta be ashamed of yourself.”

When he reaches down to repeat the action, he brushes against sackcloth and automatically pulls the bundle of submerged peaches from the water.

Long life and good health, you’d said. He scoffs at the very notion of it. It’s a foreign concept for someone who’s taken so many lives that he’s all but guaranteed his own to be nasty, brutish and short.

And truth be told, it’s been a long time since he’s even bothered to think about any future for himself outside of the immediate. Not much to look forward to save the small, petty pleasures afforded to him, most of which have been bought with the blood of other men. Not much to work for, save the next big score. The promise of stability — it’s not a luxury afforded to the likes of him. Nor should it be, if a man’s fate really is weighed by his deeds.

He’s made his peace with it by now. Kept his expectations low and steered clear of personal commitments. So it’s really very stupid then, that he’s spent so much time nursing the seeds of his own wretched affection that they’ve already begun to sprout.

More and more these days, he’s caught himself marking down points of interest whenever he’s out wandering. Setting up the skeletons of future excursions in his head. And with each new meeting, the possibility of the next looms in him eager and expectant.

Arthur unwraps a peach from the sackcloth and brings it to his mouth. It’s sweet — sweeter than it has any right to be, growing as it has unattended and abandoned in that red Lemoyne dirt.

The cicada song has quieted to a whisper. Fireflies spiral in arcane patterns over the grass, blinking their silent messages through the dark. Night birds are calling, their sounds strange and strident over the rush of river water.

In the midst of all this, Dutch Van der Linde and all his talk of savage utopia seem further away than ever. More past than present.

He bites into the peach again and closes his eyes, savoring the taste. Long life and good health. Probably no more unfeasible than any other thing he’s had preached to him for the last twenty years. And not an unpleasant prospect, if the days spent are anything like this one.

No, he thinks to himself, pulling another peach from the bundle. Not a bad prospect at all.