#and then i had fun with the trees n shit

[malfoys-demigod]

“Wear a jacket, it’s cold outside”

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: Just a quick fluff drabble where the reader’s out admiring the morning snow, but also at the same time not wanting to admit she’s cold and of need of a jacket

A/N: Hi all!! It has been a while since I wrote. Life has been so hectic for me, but ever since I watched Deadpool and Wolverine recently, the love I have for X-men came back and I really loved seeing tons of Wolverine fics pop up!

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

There was always something magical about the first morning snow at the X Mansion that made Y/N feel like the happiest girl in the world.

There was that feeling of serenity and calm that comes from snowy environments which she loved feeling every winter. It would prompt nostalgic memories: childhood fun, holidays spent yearning for a white Christmas - it just made her happy.

So when the first snow arrived early in the morning, Y/N got up as fast as she could, slipping on her favorite winter boots as she made a dash out to the entrance of the X Mansion, only wearing her long-sleeved pajama top and jogging pants.

There it was.

A fresh blanket of snow, covering the whole landscape of the area, as more snow fell down gracefully from the sky. Y/N was enjoying the sound of silence - watching the snow flutter down like magical confetti, which felt so healing to her.

She watched as the trees were heavy with snow on its tips, smelling damp pine cones from a distance. She never felt so happy.

That was until she took a few steps outward from the driveway with her last step causing her to take a small slip into a soft blanket of snow. She was now laying on wet snow, laughing her ass off from being so reckless out of nowhere all alone. The gleaming snow around her was what made her choose to stay grounded on the floor, expanding her arms and legs as they made snow angel movements.

It was only a matter of time for Y/N to start experiencing the frost bitten feeling around her body, numbing her as she continued staying out in the snow without proper protecting from being frozen. Yet.. she didn’t exactly have plans on going back in to wear protective gear just yet.

Meanwhile back inside the X Mansion, Logan had just woken up from a surprisingly good sleep. He didn’t have any nightmares to fight off this time. He actually woke up peacefully.

He got up, wore his regular leather jacket, fixed himself up quickly, and took a look at his window, seeing white, as he discovered the first snow of the season.

What he then noticed after was Y/N, lying down on the carpet of snow, with a smile on her face. Logan swore he almost felt a smile on himself growing too fast for his liking. He always kept his relationship with Y/N to a friendly-teasing kind of thing going on, but deep down, he always wanted to see if he could have more than that with his colleague.

His face definitely returned to his typical serious form, as he took a closer look at Y/N… with tingling cold finger tips, shivering slightly. He wondered why she wasn’t returning yet inside to warm up, and a level of concern grew in him, picturing her as a poor, frost bitten kitten, who needed help.

He turned around and made his way outside at full speed.

The heavy crunches of the snow under Logan’s feet as he stomped towards her caused Y/N to sit up and turn around.

Logan huffed at the sight of his kitten, looking bitterly cold now as her arms were crossed tightly. “Kid, what the hell are you doing?”

She smiled childishly with pink spots on her cheeks, which Logan discretely found lovable. “Um, enjoying the first snow?”

Logan had a displeased look on his face, definitely due to her reply. “No shit, but ever thought of doing it with extra layers on? You’re gonna freeze yourself to death, bub. You don’t want the kids to wake up on the first day of snow and see their teacher frozen over, do ya?”

Y/N was too amused with the silly, impossible idea of turning into an iced sculpture to even notice the worried look Logan had on his face. “Oh come on, Lo,” she brushed it off, “I’m fine. A little cold won’t hurt me.”

Logan was about to protest until Y/N brought out a small sneeze. She pointed at him her best straight-face, wanting to speak up first after her ‘A little cold won’t hurt me’ statement.

“Shut up, Logan,” she commanded, “That was nothing. I’m fine.”

The secretly smitten man, rolled his eyes, not buying a single thing she said. “Alright, here we go” he said, pulling her up for her to stand on her feet as she whined, “Hey!”

“Wear a jacket, it’s cold outside.” He pleaded after she complained with her frowns.

“But I really just wanted to stay a few minutes longer then I’ll go back in,” she admitted, giving her best ‘Puss-in-Boots adorable eyes’ that made Logan want to fold so damn easily. But he shook his head, removing his favorite leather jacket, that he would never just give to anyone. Her few minutes were definitely not few minutes and he knew that.

“Take it and wear it,” he surrendered.

Y/N lightly gasped, knowing very well that Logan and his leather jacket were famously inseparable. She was too flustered to say anything at the moment, so she took the jacket from him, mumbled a thank you, and started wearing it.

Logan had definitely taken a liking to what he was seeing. She looked so good in his jacket and he was captivated by how adorable she looked, with the jacket looking slightly oversized on her.

Y/N felt her heartbeat move faster when she taken a notice at Logan’s fitted black shirt, outlining the muscles that attracted her since the first day they met. She looked away, looking down at her shoes, hoping her cheeks weren’t pinker than they were earlier.

“You wanna join me for those last few minutes?” She asked teasingly with a small smile on her face. How could he say no to her?

He ‘nonchalantly’ huffed a ‘kay and sat down with her on the ground. She shifted a little closer to him, her head leaning on his shoulder. While her eyes were focused on the snow in front of her falling from a distance, his eyes were on her, wanting to make sure he saw her reaction to when the shoulder she was leaning on moved up, as Logan started wrapping his arm on her, getting them closer than how they were just a second ago.

Logan smirked to himself, seeing how red-faced Y/N was now, still focusing her attention on the snow, as she was avoiding eye contact with Logan, who was now hoping they spend more than a few minutes cozying up together before heading back in.

Maybe after that, he could treat her to hot chocolate, because of course, it was cold and he without a doubt thinks it’s the only nice thing to do afterwards…! *wink*

@snackthatsmilesbackchlldren @iluvloganhowlett (shoutout to you and your amazing fic so far! love seeing your works!)

[roanofarcc]

A PIPE DREAM

Pairing. boone x reader

Summary. storm chasing was all fun and games until you started crushing on one of your team members. and boone had a bad habit of falling hard. 

Warnings. alleged one-sided feelings, mentions of a small injury, fluff

A/N. big thanks to the person who requested a boone fic bc I love that Arkansas hillbilly

word count. 1.6k || masterlist

Besides the epic tornados, Boone's favorite thing about storm chasing was the sense of community, oddly enough. Sure, everything was a competition between storm chasers, but when night fell, you’d find everyone gathered in some shitty little motel, tailgating in the parking lot. 

The Wrangled arrived as other teams were passing out cans of beer and greasy burgers they bought from the diner just across the road. Boone was eager to swap stories and relax after another exciting chase, but he couldn’t ignore the painful burn across his upper arm, which dulled his mood a little. 

He wanted to get a good shot of the tornado for the viewers but overestimated the amount of debris the storm had picked up. Tyler urged him to stay in the car, so Boone thought hanging out of the window was just as safe until a flying tree branch from god-only-knew where sliced his arm real good. He didn’t drop his phone, thankfully, but he did ruin his shirt. Tyler had bandaged it up before they headed off again, but it still hurt like a bitch. 

He hopped out of the truck and glanced at his wrapped arm, cursing when he realized he’d bled through the gauze. 

“Boone!” Your voice sounded from behind him, happy and full of energy despite the long day. You loved tailgating almost as much as he did. The two of you had a tradition that started with shot-gunning a beer and ended with you both being the last to turn in for the night. “Look what I got!” You held up two cans of beer with a bright smile on your face, but you stopped short in front of him, your smiling fell quickly as your eyes landed on his bloodied arm. 

“Shit, Boone,” you said, grasping his arm just below the bandage. Your fingers were cold from the beers, but he felt himself flush under your touch. It was stupid, he thought, his crush on you. He knew it was a pipe dream, but he couldn’t help himself. The second you joined the Wranglers, with an insane amount of knowledge of storms and a certain sweetness that could make even the meanest assholes crack a smile, he knew he was done for. It didn’t help that you were too nice. He sometimes wished you were a little meaner, then maybe he’d be able to shift his affection somewhere else, but you didn’t seem to have a mean bone in your body. 

He cleared his throat and shot you a reassuring smile. “It’s just a little scratch.”

Your frown deepened as you examined the bloodied gauze under the dim light in the parking lot. “Looks like a little more than that.” You tugged on his elbow gently as you said, “Come on. I’ll change the bandage.” 

A part of Boone wanted to decline your offer, but he knew he couldn’t say no to you. Not when you guided him toward the building and away from the rowdy crowd in the parking lot. 

You led him into your motel room, switching on the lights and grabbing a first aid kit you always kept stocked for moments like that one. Boone stood, shifting in his shoes as he felt himself start to panic. It was one thing being with you and the rest of the team; they, unknowingly, acted as a sort of buffer between him and his feelings. But being alone with you was a whole different ball game. He knew it was all in his head, one-sided longing that he wished would go away but refused to. 

“Earth to Boone,” you called out, patting the edge of the bed beside where you sat. He sat down, only to have you scoot closer and grab his arm, pushing up the sleeve of his t-shirt. Carefully, you unwrapped the bandage and revealed the cut; it looked worse than he thought it had been, but that explained why his whole arm ached each time he moved it. “A little scratch,” you huffed under your breath. “How’d you even manage this?” 

Boone ducked his head sheepishly. “I wanted a good shot.” 

You gazed at him for a moment, closer to his face than he was sure you’d ever been before. He could see the little flecks in your eyes and the pretty line of your face. A small smile curled on your lips, and you asked, “Did you at least get it?” 

He copied your smile. “Hell yeah.” 

As you rummaged around in the first aid kit, you hummed. “Then at least it was somewhat worth it. But you should be careful.” The smell of alcohol filled his nose. “This gonna hurt, okay? But here,” you held out your opposite hand toward him and he stared at you, confused. “Squeeze my hand. It’ll help, a little.” 

His face felt on fire. He was a grown man, but he felt back in grade school, harboring a school-boy crush on his friend. Maybe it was a little pathic, but he grasped your hand because it was probably the only time he’d have an excuse to. You weren’t lying about it hurting. He hissed through his teeth and squeezed your hand as you cleaned off the cut with the alcohol pad. 

When you were done, you pulled your hand away, and he tried not to let his disappointment show. It only took you a minute or two to re-wrap his arm; you’d done it a million times between the rest of the crew when they sustained little injuries here and there. 

“There,” you said, running your finger across the bandage softly until you trailed up his arm to where his sleeve sat on his shoulder. You fixed it back into place before smiling sweety once more. “Better?” Boone’s breath caught in his throat, so he nodded. 

After that, you two rejoined the Wranglers and the other storm chasers outside. You continued your tradition, shot-gunning beers before you both tossed them to the ground with heavy laughs and a high five. Only when Boone’s hand met yours, you wrapped your fingers around his for just a moment, giving his hand a light squeeze as you grinned in the moonlight. Boone felt his heart quicken in his chest. 

You lingered beside him the whole time, which wasn’t unheard of but for some reason, to Boone, it felt different. He thought maybe he was too much in his head, reading into every little thing too closely. 

Gradually, everyone petered out and retreated to their rooms to get a couple hours of shut-eye before they met another day of chasing the brewing storm cells. But you and Boone remained seated on the tailgate of the rig, nursing another beer and watching the stars that emerged after a day full of cloud cover. You had your head tilted upwards, mouth slightly parted in awe, which is how you looked every time you saw the stars. Boone thought it was cute, how something you saw nearly every night still captured your attention like that. 

He found himself watching you more than stars, finding you more stunning. But he didn’t realize you had caught him until you cleared your throat and his eye widened almost comically. “Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” you asked, a light, teasing tone in your voice. 

Boone fumbled for a response but managed to say, “You look nice. Pretty.” 

A softness rolled across your features that made him feel even more out of his league. He was worried he overstepped; did friends call each other pretty? Was he just overthinking it? 

You turned your body towards him, you knee bumping against his thigh as you leaned just a little bit closer to him with a smile. “You look pretty too,” you said, earning a light chuckle from Boone. “Don’t laugh. I’m serious!” 

“Sure you are,” he said, brushing you off as he fiddled with the tab of his beer can. He expected you to drop it, switch the subject because you had no idea of the feelings that bombarded his heart and brain, but you did the last thing he expected.

You grasped the side of his face with one hand, gently but with just enough force to get him to meet your gaze. He felt hot and confused, looking at you almost nose to nose. Boone swore his heart was about to beat right out of his chest and land at your feet. 

“I can prove it,” you whispered, low and slow.

Boone’s brain short-circuited; he was surely dreaming. Maybe the tree branch that sliced his arm really knocked him in the head and he was in some comma. 

Whether it was real or not, he didn’t move for fear of messing it up or breaking the dream he was surely having. Your thumb brushed across his cheek and your eyes searched his for something, sparkling in the starlight. Slowly you leaned forward, and his body moved without help from his mind, meeting you halfway. 

The kiss was light, sweet just as you were. Boone wasn’t sure there were words to properly describe his feelings in that moment. All he knew was that he needed you, and he had you. His hands found your waist as you brought your other hand up to cup his face, deepening the kiss just slightly. He could have stayed like that forever, forgoing breathing, but you pulled back just slightly and smiled widely. 

“Wow,” he whistled. 

 “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” you admitted. 

Boone still wasn’t one-hundred percent sure he wasn’t dreaming, but he was going along with it. “Really?” You nodded. “Me too,” he said, suddenly a lot braver than he had been. He closed the small gap between you two again, kissing you like he’d thought about since he first lied his eyes on you.

[joelscurls]

stranded

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 2.6k

summary: your shitty boyfriend dumps you on the side of the road after a fight. joel miller finds you.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, no outbreak, explicit smut, oral (f receiving) (joel miller is a munch and u cannot convince me otherwise), slight angst, reader has a shitty/abusive (ex) bf (only briefly mentioned), allusions to piv sex, i think that's it? lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: this is my entry for the summer lovin' writing challenge put together by the incredible @pedgito, @amanitacowboy, and @chaotic-mystery (ily all so much), based on the above moodboard with the location hiking (i went for hitchhiking) and the quote "i'm your only hope". i haven't written in what feels like years & am admittedly rusty, but alas! it was so much fun to get back into writing with a little challenge. dividers by @/saradika-graphics. this was minimally edited; all mistakes are my own.

His red pickup truck had been the first car you'd seen in hours. Rain pouring down, drenching your t-shirt and streaking mascara along the apples of your cheeks, it'd been like a beacon through the fog. 

You’d asked to borrow his cell phone to call a friend. Don't have one, he’d drawled. Got a landline at my place, but the whole county’s without power.

And though you knew nothing about the man in the driver's seat -- not his name nor his history with the law -- you'd still gotten in when he'd pushed open the passenger-side door. After all, you had little other choice.

It was either that, or risk freezing to death on the side of the road where your boyfriend had deserted you.  Ex boyfriend, now. That asshole had taken everything from you: your phone, your keys, your dignity -- and left you for dead. So really, how much worse could this admittedly handsome stranger be?

Just a bit, it turns out. 

Okay, so he's giving you a lift. Back to his place to wait out the storm and call a friend on his landline once the power returns. And he's not hurling nonsensical accusations at you with hands curled tightly around the steering wheel. No declarations of, "My buddy swears he saw you dancing with another guy. Why would he lie about that?"

Still, his silence is beyond off-putting. His brows seem permanently contorted downward, his eyes narrowed on the road ahead as he drives, the highway closer and closer to flooding with every mile that passes. He hasn't asked if you're okay despite the fact that you're holding your ankle in your lap, its incessant throbbing a reminder of when your ex pushed you out of his car earlier. No, he hasn't even offered his name.

You wonder if you're driving to your death.

The first words he speak are muttered under his breath, a quick, "it's just down this road," as pavement turns to gravel. He slows the truck, tires crunching and mud splattering until the trees give way to a tiny wood cabin. The driveway is a long stretch of dirt that winds through an unkempt yard, all tall grass and overgrown shrubs.

It's dark, the sky an angry black as you hobble out of the truck. Your ankle stings and your heart pounds when the strange man rounds on you, and you flinch when he outstretches a hand.

"You hurt?"

His voice, though unamused, drips like thick, rich honey. Pools at your feet with the rainwater.

"Yeah," you respond meekly. Your fingers curl against your palm, nails digging into the skin there. "It's uh, my ankle." His eyes follow yours down to your feet. Widen at the sight of black and blue. 

"Shit."

It's quiet for a long moment. You can tell he's trying to piece it all together: how you ended up alone on the side of the road, hurt.  He still doesn't ask though. Not until a particularly loud rumble of thunder sounds overhead, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

He sighs, a half-hearted comforting hand on your shoulder. 

"Someone dump you out there?" 

"Yeah," you sigh. "Boyfriend. We got into a fight and he just...lost it."

The man nods. Takes a small step forward as you hop on one foot next to him. 

It must take five whole minutes to get to the front door. Your ankle only feels worse by the time you step onto the porch, throbbing having turned into searing pain somewhere along the way. You bite down hard on your bottom lip as he jostles the key in the doorknob, the metallic taste of your own blood a temporary distraction.

He motions for you to follow him in, which you do, albeit hesitantly. His house is as you'd expect it to be from your brief encounter: little furniture or decoration, dishes in the sink, a general air of…man…throughout the small, dark space.

“Sit down,” he says. “I'll get a first-aid-kit.”

“Wait,” you stop him, because for some reason it seems of utmost importance in this very moment, despite the flash flood outside and your inability to walk, to know–

“What's your name?”

“Joel.”

You situate yourself on the couch as you wait for him to return. Scan the room for any signs of imminent danger. There’s a bookshelf on the far wall, stacked top to bottom with hardcovers and carved wooden trinkets. You wonder if he – Joel – made them himself. 

You wonder if the books keep him company out here; if the stories of Huck Finn and Moby Dick make him feel less alone. 

You wonder why he’s so isolated in the first place. 

You have little time to dwell on it though, as he re-enters the room promptly, dusty first-aid-kit in one hand and a lantern in the other. He places the latter down by his feet before pulling up a footstool. Opens up the kit and pulls out a roll of gauze.

“Might hurt a little,” he warns, beginning to unravel it.

You nod. Brace yourself. 

By the look of his hands – large and gruff – you expect him to be a bit rough. But he’s gentle, surprisingly so, cradling the lower half of your leg and wrapping your ankle with laser focus. His fingers, though calloused, skate across your skin with a near-startling softness. 

You watch his face as he works on you, quickly finding yourself transfixed by the way his brows contort and his eyes narrow, by the absentminded twitch of his mouth. He looks so much less intimidating like this, and you inadvertently begin to relax into his touch.

He seems to notice this, leaning in closer to your body, and while you know it's just to get a better angle, more precision, it still sends a rather confusing shockwave of electricity up your spine. In this proximity, you can practically feel the heat radiating off of his body. Can practically see every fiber of muscle in his biceps as they flex under his flannel shirt.

This close, you're met with the rather inconvenient realization that Joel is beautiful.

You try to tell yourself that it's purely situational, that if you hadn't just been dumped on the side of the road by your asshole boyfriend, you wouldn't be seeking the physical comfort of another man. Still, this does nothing to stop the steady acceleration of your heartbeat, nor the growing arousal between your thighs. 

All of this, despite the pain in your ankle.

You almost don't realize he's done mending you, the shifting of his hand to your opposite calf sending you into a prompt spell of dizziness. Mind flooded with images of him spreading you apart, taking you right here on this worn, leather couch, you're silently reeling. 

His eyes flit up to meet yours, a little darker than you recall them being. His fingers curl against your skin and your breath hitches. 

Does he feel this too?

You shift experimentally. Let your legs fall apart just an inch. To your dismay, he pulls his hand back; clears his throat.

And just like that – the bubble bursts.

“All set,” he announces as he stands, before practically running out of the room.

A little humiliated, you retreat back into yourself. Stare out the window and pretend not to notice when he rejoins you in the living room and wordlessly drags his footstool to the opposite side of the room.

The remainder of the day passes agonizingly slow. Minutes feel like hours, the sky only growing darker, and it’s a wonder how Joel can even see the pages of the book he’s currently got his nose stuck into.

Not that he’d offered you one. 

Instead, you’ve been stuck in place. A prisoner to this couch, the springs of which are digging into your back uncomfortably. Staring out the window like some harrowed female protagonist in a period piece.

Joel doesn’t seem to notice your presence, after a while. He reads, drinks warm beer, and quite literally twiddles his thumbs. Anything to avoid talking to you. 

You’re not sure what you did wrong. Had you said something to offend him without realizing? Had your subtle pass at him been less subtle than you’d thought? Had you crossed a line? You’d really just considered it innocent flirting. Maybe Joel hadn’t.

Regardless, it makes you wonder why he even brought you here. Maybe he’d just wanted to feel like a hero – hadn’t thought about what came after. About you occupying his precious space. 

After a while of sitting in the same place, your muscles begin to ache. Plus, your throat feels dry. You need to stand, need to get something to drink. Except, when you move to get up, Joel immediately stops you. 

“Where you goin’?” 

“Need a drink.”

“I’ll get you one,” he offers. “What do you want?” 

What you really want is to go home. To forget this entire day even happened.

So you settle on–

“Vodka?” 

He hums. “Don’t got that.”

“Tequila?”

“Got some scotch left. Might be one more beer. Was really hopin’ to have it though.”

You scoff. 

“Okay. Water, then?” 

“That I can do.” 

He disappears into the kitchen and returns moments later with a glass. Hands it over without making eye contact. 

“Thanks,” you mutter. He says nothing in response. Just collects his empty beer bottles from off the floor and retreats once again. 

By the time he comes back, the sun is setting – at least, what can be seen of it through the dark clouds that still rage in the sky. 

He seems tense, fixating himself by the window and watching the storm with such acuity you think he may be waiting for the second it ends to kick you out. 

“Have you heard anything about when this is supposed to pass?” you ask.

“Have no electricity,” he grumbles. “So, no.”

You stretch out your back. Stand. This time, Joel doesn't stop you. “Just didn't know if you had a radio or something.”

“I don't.”

Rounding on him, you attempt to get him to look in your direction. Still, he stares straight ahead, like you're not even there. Frustration bubbles in you, quickly reaching a full boil.

"What is your problem?"

He finally looks at you. And then he laughs, though you get the sense that he's not amused in the slightest.

"My problem?”

You nod. Raise your eyebrows at him.

“I'm lettin' you wait out a storm in my house right now,” he says. “Doesn't seem like somethin' you should be asking me."

You scoff. "I just don't know what I did to piss you off."

He turns to face you completely now. 

"Are you kidding? Haven't done nothing but inconvenience me since you got in my truck. Askin’ for a fuckin’ cocktail like this is some kind of resort. Starin’ at me all day like i'm a guest in my own home.”

Is he fucking serious?

“Why’d you even pick me up?"

"Wasn't gonna drive by a stranded girl on the side of the road, was I?"

You're both silent for a long moment. You can't exactly be mad at him for rescuing you. Still, you feel extremely uncomfortable now, knowing that he doesn't want you here. Tears pickle the corners of your eyes threateningly. You choke them back.

"Well fine, if i'm such a fucking burden, i'll leave."

You're expecting him to open the door for you. Throw you out to the wolves. So you're more than taken aback when he shakes his head at you disapprovingly.

"Like hell you will. There's about two feet of water out there. Where you gonna go?"

"I don't know,” you admit. “But i'll figure it out."

"You'll figure it out?"

"That's what I said."

Joel tuts. "Look at the state of you right now. You can barely even walk. There’s no power anywhere. Just face it: you wanna get home safely, before tomorrow, i'm your only hope."

“Fuck you,” you spit, stepping closer to him. Where does he get off, acting like such a righteous savior? You're going to brush past him, leave anyway, but as soon as you go to move, his hand is winding around your arm.

“Don't.”

“Or what?” you hiss. 

“Just – don't.” His voice is less angry; more pleading.

“You don't want me here,” you say. It's not a question, but he nods anyway.

“Yes I do. I mean – I don't want anything to happen to you out there. Please just – let me make this up to you.”

His hand slides up to your shoulder. Squeezes gently. Your eyes wander to where he holds you. When they flit up to his face again, you find he's already gazing at you.

You're not sure who moves first.

You're back on his couch in an instant, your shorts being tugged down and off your legs, along with your panties. And then Joel is shouldering himself between your legs, shimmying down the couch and situating his face right in front of your pussy.

His nails dig into the skin of your thighs as he gets his first taste of you, and he groans. You shudder at the sight of him, the sound of him. Your fingers find their way to the curls at the crown of his head and grasp tightly onto them.

“Is this what you need, baby?” he slurs, and you nod deliriously.

“Yeah,” he smirks. “I know.”

His tongue dips into your apex, greedily lapping up some of your sweet nectar before he finally decides to put you out of your misery, dragging it up to swipe over your swollen clit. 

You instinctually buck against his face, trying to force him closer, and he chuckles. Grabs onto your thighs and pulls you toward his mouth. His tongue begins to relentlessly massage your clit and you cry out, a needy little whine that echoes through the room. 

“Mhm,” he hums against you in understanding, the vibrations of his voice sending a wave of pleasure coursing through your core. And then he pulls away, only momentarily, to spit on your pussy, the sound of it so obscene that your eyes roll back in response. He's back on you immediately, plunging two fingers into your soaked cunt and curling them against your g-spot as his tongue laves at you.

In less than a minute, you're coming hard, gushing all over his chin and his hand. He doesn't relent until you're gasping for him to stop, scratching at his shoulders in desperation. And then he's kissing you, the taste of your arousal on his mouth, and though satiated, you've never felt so starving.

“Need you,” you mumble against his lips, your hands roving restlessly across any part of him you can reach, grasping at fabric and skin.

He nibbles at your neck and you inhale the scent of him. Commit the smell of his sweat and musk to memory. This'll probably be the only time you have him, after all. You push that thought to the back of your mind. 

Sitting back on his haunches, Joel pulls off his shirt and undoes his belt. Shucks his jeans off. He hovers back over you with a newfound ferocity in his eyes. 

“Up,” he orders. Helps you sit. You pull your own shirt off and toss it aside. Unclasp your bra and let it fall from your body as Joel stares wolfishly at your exposed chest.

Your eyes, on the other hand, fly straight to his cock. It tents in his boxer, his bulge a bit intimidating, and you feel yourself beginning to salivate.

He chuckles above you, hand coming to rest placatingly on your waist.

“Think you can take it, baby?”

In truth, you're not entirely sure. But you're sure as hell not about to waste any more time wondering.

“Please just – fuck me.”

He shifts his weight. Props your ankle atop his back and rests with his elbows on either side of you. And then he grinds against you, the heft of his hard cock rubbing against your bare pussy.

“Patience,” he tuts. “We got nothin’ but time.”

[temiizpalace]

☆┆TEND TO MY WOUNDS !

SUMMARY: red alert! he’s injured! it’s alright, for the prefect of ramshackle is here to save the day.

CHARACTERS: leona, jade, jamil, rook, idia

(i spun a wheel to try and write other characters.. jamil and leona just love me teehee)

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: the boys get injured, but nothing is life threatening. — cursing — MENTIONS OF BLEEDING (not fatal)

ROMANTIC, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

🦁┆LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

“shit! ow—“

leona groans, feeling the stinging pain of alcohol rubbed onto his forehead. spelldrive didn’t go as it usually did.

everything was normal. practice was going well, and everybody was doing the proper training regiments. it was all fun watching leona and everybody practice by a nearby tree. except leona wasn’t practicing this afternoon.

today, he felt like napping right beside you. he laid his head in your lap, sound asleep. this all goes south when some freshmen decide to mess around, sending the disc flying in your direction.

typically leona would’ve been able to divert it with magic, but feeling a little hazy from barely awakening, it hit him straight on the forehead.

now here you both are, present in the infirmary, leona sitting on the cot, and you being his own personal doctor. “i can’t believe the great leona kingscholar got hit by a spelldrive disc. it is truly an honor to witness it first hand.” you joke, causing him to roll his eyes.

“tch.. whatever— FUCK.” it’s funny to see leona in such a state. one where his tough guy act isn’t all the way up. you thought he’d brush off the pain like a man, but surprise! we learn something new everyday.

“haha.. wait here. i need to find bandages.” you walk over to the cabinet, only to find all the boxes of bandages empty. except for one. a bandaid box. you snicker at the sight of them and take a couple out of the box. leona raises a brow as he heard your giggling in the back til you made your way back towards him.

you stood in front of him and placed the bandaids on his forehead. he liked the close proximity. he likes being by your side. you caring for him like this is actually one of his deepest desires. he won’t ever say it aloud of course, but he hopes you take the hints.

“you are now officially cured.” you grin, finally applying the last bandaid. he stood up, looking you in the eyes. he wanted to thank you. wanted to thank you for helping him. wanted to thank you for caring enough about him to do this. to help him.

but leona being leona cannot say thank you. “..I don’t wanna owe you any favors so,” he pulls out his wallet from his pocket and throws it to you. you catch it, nearly dropping all the thaumarks inside on the floor. “go buy somethin’ while you’re at it.”

he ruffles your hair, walking out of the infirmary. you flip through the wallet, it barely closing due to the amount of cards and thaumarks inside. rich boy privileges go crazy. ruggie wasn’t kidding when he said leona was stinkin rich. all you could do was stand there, shocked.

leona walks back out to the field, hearing the team laugh as he approaches. he looks at them with a puzzled look, the laughing becoming unbearable. “oi, what’s so funny? mind tellin’?”

“cute bandaids ya got there, boss. shishishishi..” ruggie chuckles, looking at leona’s super cute and silly unicorn bandaids on his forehead. at first, he’s confused. then he rips a bandaid off and looks at the patterns.

start running <3

🐬┆JADE LEECH

“jade, stop moving!”

you sigh, trying to place a bandaid on jade’s cut. you wanted to help him cook today since mostro lounge has been extremely busy lately. azul had been working him to the bone, so he used his time off as a way to spend time with you.

only to end up back in the kitchen, but whatever. since you’re there, it’s all good. while chopping a mysterious vegetable, (it’s a mushroom..) he accidentally cut his finger. he wasn’t paying attention to where he was cutting. cause he was looking at you.

normally somebody would wince in pain, but jade is jade. so. “oh my, this is unexpected.” he says, as his blood gets on his gloves and contaminates the mushrooms. “oh my what— OH MY GOSH, JADE.” you yell, as he’s abnormally calm about the fact blood was all over the mushrooms.

so now he’s sitting at one of the barstools in mostro lounge as you try to patch up his finger. anytime the bandaid gets remotely close to the cut, he squirms and jerks his hand away. you can’t tell if he’s messing with you or if he’s just sensitive to touch because he still has his dumb polite smile.

“jade. stop. moving.” you grunt, trying to grab his wrist to hold his hand still. “fufu..” his stupid chuckle is usually very nice but it’s just growing irritating.

for some reason he still has the impulse to tease you. even when injured. all you want to do is care for him, so why is he making this so difficult?! is he waiting for something?

oh. that’s an idea.

“jade, may i see your hand?” you ask, putting the bandaid on the counter. he raises a brow, but complies nonetheless. “of course. do be gentle though, im wounded.” well no shit.

you held his hand gently, raising a finger up to your lips. you place a gentle kiss on his finger. not on the wound exactly, but near it. his eyes slightly widened and his cheeks tinted slightly red. he loses his composure for just a moment, giving you time to apply the bandaid onto his cut.

you smile in victory, standing up from your seat. “there, all better!” you winked at him before making your way back to the kitchen. he sat there, dumbfounded. how curious.. if that’s a way to get free kisses..

“oh dear, it appears i had just cut my lower lip. what a shame. it appears i am in need of some assistance.” this wasn’t even five minutes later.

🐍┆JAMIL VIPER

“you scream like a girl.”

you laugh as jamil looks away from you. he couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes. a little earlier, the both of you were sitting in the lounge of ramshackle as comfortable silence filled the air.

he was flipping through pages of a book while you leaned onto his shoulder, playing a game of some sort on your phone.

“..AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

that silence was interrupted as you heard a high pitched scream next to you, turning your head to see jamil absolutely mortified and panicked.

“JAMIL?! WHAT IS—“ then you spotted it. the wretched cockroach crawling on the table. he shut his book and threw it at the table, missing. now he’s grabbing all nearby objects to kill the insect.

“JAMIL PLEASE CALM DOWN, PLEASE! FUCK, JAMIL—” he ended up using his magic, but used a lil too much. as you held him back, his leg bumped against the table, causing him to scurry back to the couch.

confirming that the roach had cleared the premises, you sat next to him and checked the bump on his leg. his breaths were heavy and a sweat was across his brow. you would’ve thought he looked insanely attractive if it weren’t for the incident just before.

now he’s embarrassed, his hood is pulled over, and he’s pouting as he looks away from you. “i think you got a small cut, but it should be fine. i’ll go get some bandaids!” you hum, getting up from the cushions to find the box of bandages.

he completely humiliated himself in front of you. he was weak in front of you. and he hates that. “im back and here to repair your boo-boo.” you came back with the box, sitting back down and opening it. you remove a bandaid and slowly apply it til you hear him mutter something.

“sorry.”

“hm? sorry, couldn’t hear ya. mind speaking up for me?” you heard him perfectly fine. he irks before speaking up, his tone hinted with annoyance. “sorry.”

“all is forgiven, my love.” you smile, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a hug. he sighs, reciprocating the hug and leaning onto you. “please forget you saw that..” he mumbles, his face practically burning.

you chuckle, playing with loose strands of his hair as the both of you now lied on the couch. “no promises..” he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, but placed a quick kiss on your cheek. he shuts his eyes, needing to recharge.

“mhm. love you too, jamil.” you whisper, allowing him to rest on your chest. he fell asleep in no time flat. let him rest. or even better yet, join him!

🏹┆ROOK HUNT

“how’d you fall?”

you ask, seeing as rook lied on the ground. i don’t know how to explain his pose, he’s just a theatre kid.

“never mind the details, ma chère. all that matters is that you had rushed to my rescue!” he smiles as you stood there. the most deadpan expression on your face. “i’ll just go get you bandages and not question it.” “merci!”

you rush to the infirmary, grabbing the bandages and rushing out. if nobody knew better, they’d all have assumed that rook was dead. he hasn’t moved an inch.

“where’d you injure yourself?” you ask, crouching down and inspecting his arms. “non, non. you must guess!” he laughs, sitting up right away. you groan as he initiated such an idea. “rook. im not going to guess—“

“if that is the case, ill be stuck in everlasting pain! it’d be unbearable.” he sighs dramatically, causing you to furrow your brow. “fine. did you injure your leg?” you grumble, checking each limb.

he shook his head, smiling like an absolute idiot. “here, allow me to give you a hint.” he grabs your hand guiding it to the place of the wound. of course he can’t do it without teasing you a little.

he places your hand on his shoulder, his hand, his neck, til eventually he stopped on his cheek. “my injury can be found around here.”

you look at his cheek, but there is no cut, scratch, or bruise to be seen. you raise a brow at him, but he has no shift in reaction. “rook, are you lying to me?” rook shook his head, looking you in the eyes. “I wouldn’t lie to you, mon amour. perhaps you need a closer look.”

before he could even explain what that meant, he pulled you towards him. causing you to fall onto him. “can you see it now?” he asks, staring at you lovingly.

you sigh, pulling a bandage out and placing it onto his lips. his eyes widened, but he wasn’t mad. not in the slightest! he wrapped his arms around you. taking this opportunity for a cuddle session.

despite your “annoyance,” you smiled and laughed slightly. “you’re impossible, rook.”

he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, humming happily as you spoke. his fingers intertwined with yours as the sun hit both of your figures. creating a scene resembling one of a fairytale.

💀┆IDIA SHROUD

“you can’t lock yourself into your room because of this.”

you slightly chuckle as you patch up idia’s knee. moments before, his PE class had to do the sprints. looks like he went to class on the wrong day.

while he was running, he tripped on a conveniently placed rock and fell on his knee. ortho quickly went to find you and bring you to idia so that you can comfort him.

he had tears coming from his eyes, which caused ortho to panic. you both carried him to the infirmary since he had an inability to walk. you situated him onto the cot and grabbed some bandages from the cabinets. “don’t worry niisan! the prefect will take good care of you!”

ortho chimed, trying his best to comfort his brother. idia felt his stress lessen, but that doesn’t change the immense pain he was in. “thank you, ortho. but i don’t im ever gonna to go outside again.”

he mumbles, causing ortho to pout. you come back with the bandages, smiling as you sat to the side of the cot. “im gonna have to go explain to coach vargas why you’re not here! hang tight, niisan!”

you waved to ortho, leaving just you and idia in the infirmary. “idia, you’re not going to die because of this.” you smile, placing the bandage onto his knee. idia groans, picking at his fingers. “i looked so cringe just now. definitely not my moment.”

“you didn’t look cringe, idia. you got hurt.” you grabbed his hand and held it in yours. he smiles slightly as you tried to reassure him. it was endearing to him. “thanks.. but i want to lock myself in my room for like ever after this..” he quickly mutters, hoping you wouldn’t hear that. surprise! you heard him.

“no idia, you can’t lock yourself in your room forever after this.” you sigh, realizing this was the man you fell in love with. “what? you can come too. you’d be free from all the normies surrounding you.” he stated bluntly.

“..no.” you hesitantly said, squeezing his hand slightly. you both sat in the infirmary for a few more moments before you sat up and let go of his hand. “can you stand?”

“no.” he quickly replies, not even bothering to try. you stare at him before exhaling deeply. “i’ll bring your switch then. wait here.” he smiled as he watched you exit the room. he appreciated how understanding you were. how you knew what he wanted before he even had to ask. ..well, most of the time anyway.

when you came back, you sat next to him on the cot. you both played smash bros together, playing until the console runs out of batteries. lucky for him, his console lasts for almost an entire week before it runs out of power.

let me just say, he beat your ass in smash bros.

A/N: this sat in my drafts for a very long time. i had to brainstorm A LOT to see how idia could get injured.

date published: 1/27/24

© temiizpalce — don’t steal or copy my work!

[gay-dorito-dust]

okay so y/n is secretly a god of keeping an eye on this gravity falls universe and is trying to protect the kids because she's seen how they died so many times and full on just breaks down in front of Stan and ford telling them

Ngl this was kinda shit

You don’t know how much more you could take of having beer witnessed to so many timelines where the twins died far too young.

You didn’t know how much more of their suffering you were forced to watch on the sidelines while being reminded by beings of a power far greater than yours that there was to be no divine intervention. None whatsoever as it was a taboo amongst gods and was punishable by having the elder gods remove your immortality and take away any and all divine powers from you.

You didn’t care about the consequences of your own actions when you fled from your home in hopes of helping Dipper and Mabel survive one timeline, to grow older and live long happy lives unlike their alternate selves that you couldn’t save. You were sick and tired of seeing the same end result for the Pine twins timeline after timeline after timeline. This time it was going to be different, and you were going to make sure of it as you watched through the bark of trees as they ventured off on their next monster of the week, always coming back to the shack unscathed.

‘Hey great aunt/ grunkle y/n!’ They’d both greet you with wide smiles despite their messy appearances.

‘You two looked like you had some fun today. Find anything investing to share?’ You’d ask them but you already knew the answer. You had used your power to ward off the sneaky pack of Direwolves from mauling the kids and grant them a quick escape, a victory unfortunately not shared by their alternate selves, who never came back from the encounter. You still remembered the pained screams as they were deeply etched into your subconscious, keeping you awake at night.

The twins shared a look as thought debating whether or not to tell you, only to mentally agree on the later as they both looked back at you and said in unison; ‘nope! Just some scrapes and cuts, nothing interesting at all!’ Before they left to go to their room. As soon as they left the smile of your face faltered as you let out an uneven sigh, your hands covering your eyes as you softly wept into them, not understanding how cruel life must be to condemn the sweetest and bravest children you knew to countless deaths with each one being worse then the last.

You didn’t care that you’d be punished for your actions, you didn’t care that you’d be ridiculed and berated by the elder gods for being too human for a god, but you would much rather risk it all if it meant that all your effort and energy would bring forth a timeline where the twins emerged victorious; They deserved as much.

‘I can’t let it happen again.’ You whispered to yourself.

You must’ve been too occupied by the turmoil inside your own head that you didn’t hear the sound of footsteps came towards you, nor noticed that whoever was walking towards you had now sat themselves on either side of you until a hand was placed on your shoulder were you finally drawn back to reality.

‘Are you okay? Dipper and Mabel said they could hear you sobbing.’ Ford said and you saw that both he and Stan had come to check on you.

‘I can’t.’ You muttered.

‘Can’t what?’ Stan asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘I can’t watch them die again, not this time.’ You said as you wiped your eyes clean of tears. ‘I’ve watched enough of the same story come to violent and unfair endings and got told that’s just how the way things are.’

Ford and Stan shared a look, not knowing the best course of action to take in order to comfort you when you were talking in vague and ominous riddles. So Ford gently moved you so that you were looking at him directly, ‘what do you mean by that? Who’s them?’ You breathed in deeply as you mustered up the strength to tell Ford and Stan a truth you’ve been keeping to yourself in order to keep them all safe, but the Pines Family were a curious bunch and couldn’t help but be drawn to things they shouldn’t, while also having strange things be drawn to them in vice versa.

‘I haven’t been all that truthful about who I am and I only did so for a good reason, to keep you all safe.’ You said as you held onto Ford’s arms while looking between him and Stan, ‘I’m a deity who came here to Gravity Falls after bearing witness to multiple timelines where Dipper and Mabel don’t make it out alive from their encounters with the anomalies of this very town. I’ve risked everything to be here, even my own powers and immortality to keeping these kids safe in hopes of seeing the fruits of my labour be proven fruitful.’ You continued your admittance as you saw the conflicting emotions cut across their faces the more you spoke of your true origin.

‘What do you mean that dipper and Mabel die in each timeline you’ve seen?’ Stan then asked, his face set in agitation, ‘you’re a god aren’t you? Couldn’t you just have intervened and save them regardless? I thought you gods were meant to be omnipotent or whatever?’

‘That’s not how it works, is it.’ Ford said as he was slowly putting the pieces together while his thumbs caressed your shoulders reassuringly.

‘No.’ You said softly as a new wave of tears started to cascade down your cheeks. ‘The elder gods decreed long ago to forbid divine intervention of all kinds. They claim that there was nothing that can be done to change what has already been foreseen, but I couldn’t do it.’ You whimpered as you looked at Stan. ‘I just couldn’t when I knew that I could at least change one timeline, just one. Im sorry.’ You finished as Stan and Ford felt their hearts hurt for you, a god who was going against their entire way of life to keeping their grand niece and nephew safe, all the while feeling immense guilt consumed you from the inside out over the other realities.

Stan then moved so that he was just as in your line of sight as Ford was and began to wipe away some of your tears with his thumb. ‘I guess that explains all those times I’ve seen you silently stare out into the woods.’ He began jokingly as everything leading up to now started to make sense, how you’d always put yourself between the children and any potential danger or how you’d watch over them like a hawk and making sure they were in your line of sight no matter what as though afraid that something terrible would happen if they weren’t. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done for them sweetheart, but it’s time you took care of yourself just as well.’ Stan then adds as he and Ford escorted you back into the shack, much to your confusion as you looked between them.

‘I cant! I have to make sure-‘

‘The twins are fast asleep in their beds y/n. They’re safe, you have done enough for today. Now if it time for you to rest.’ Ford gently reprimanded you as you suddenly began to feel the weight of fatigue that you had been putting off for several days now.

‘Yeah don’t go worrying yourself so much, or else you’ll get grey hairs like me and point Dexter over here. Let us take over once in a while okay honey?’ Stan says as he and Ford tried to get your mind off of your mission when they both saw just how much you’ve run yourself into the ground, how reluctant you were to relinquishing control and allowing yourself to rest up from the countless days of no sleep nor sustenance. They were pretty sure you hadn’t looked at yourself in a mirror to know just how badly you looked, nor the haunted you seem to get in your eyes now and then as though you were recalling traumatic events.

‘But-‘

‘Nope.’ Stan interrupted.

‘Can’t I just-‘

‘I’m afraid we can’t let you do that. God or not, you need rest. We’ll keep the kids safe in your stead.’ Ford cuts you off this time as he and Stan managed to wrangle you into bed after a brief struggle where you realised just how badly your limbs ached snd screamed with a desire to rest or how your eyelids felt heavier then lead.

‘Promise?’ You asked them sleepily.

Stan pressed a soft kiss to your forehead while Ford squeezed your hand reassuringly. ‘We promise, you’ve done your part so please, let us do ours.’

[the-fiction-witch]

Bracken Bunny

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Davos Blackwood Couple - Davos X Reader Reader - (OC) Lady Y/n Bracken Rating - Smut (Non Con) Word Count - 1503

Warnings - Blood, Non Consent, Kidnapping

I held my breath, keeping my lungs strong and stiff. My knees were deep in the thick, slimy mud but I kept my legs still so I didn’t sink or slide any more. My fingers trembled slightly as I held the string taut. I watched my line of sight as the rabbit nibbled at the grass and slowly popped up its head. So I released the string sending the arrow across the grass and striking the rabbit.

I hurried over, taking my arrow back and putting the rabbit into my bag with the few rabbits, birds and mushrooms I had gathered while hunting.

It wasn’t much, I hadn’t found much of anything all day. The rainy and damp days are likely sending most game away.

I slowly walked the border between Bracken and Blackwood land, looking for any game on our side. Often gritting my teeth if anything was on theirs, I wanted to take it but I didn’t want to give any excuse for a fight.

I stopped short as I saw a deer chewing on a tree, I quickly grabbed an arrow and used the border stone to rest my foot to keep me from sliding on the mud. I held my breath as I drew my bow and quickly let it go, but the deer jumped away and I missed.

“Shit.” I sighed,

I’m not letting it go, I hurried over the border and followed the deer as close as I could to see it but not spook it.

The deer once again stopped in the open Blackwood field to eat some grass, I made sure it couldn’t see me as I drew another arrow making sure to line it up perfectly holding my breath and keeping my arm straight.

Just as I was about to release the arrow, I felt the cold sting of a blade against my bare skin, the blade pressed against my neck, and the hot breath on my ear. “Drop the bow,”

“Or what?” I whispered,

“or drown in your own blood.” He warns, “Drop it. Now.”

I grit my teeth and put my bow down on the grass,

“Good, now… tell me, what is a little bracken babe doing on blackwood land?”

“Tea Party,” I spat back,

“Humm, you weren’t planning on striking down that deer were you darling? A Blackwood Deer on Blackwood Land.”

“It’s not a Blackwood Deer, it was on Bracken land when I-”

“And now it’s on Blackwood land making it a Blackwood Deer.” He interrupted, “So? Did you plan to shoot?”

“... Yes.”

He chuckled, “I could have your head for that,” he paused, “But… you have a rather pretty head,”

I gasped, “Let me go. Let me go I’ll go home.”

“Awww… no, it’s a little late for that my little Bracken,” He chuckled smugly, “You are going to stay right here with me,” He growled his tongue slipped from his lips to lick the lobe of my ear, his other hand came around me holding my hip sliding over my dresses damp fabric, he got handsy sliding across me with little regard like I was some whore from a blackwood brothel.

I squirmed but he just held me tighter pressing the blade closer to my skin so if I moved more than even a breath it would cut my skin, “Let me go,”

“Now why would I do that? I think you and I could enjoy ourselves out here.” He purred, as his hand getting braver and less considerate brushing his hand across almost all of me, “quiet the pretty little thing aren’t you?”

“Let me go!” I snapped,

“No, no, you’re going to let me have my fun. Or I’ll cut your head off. You’re choice.” He demanded, “Yes?”

I didn’t answer merely huffed knowing I had little choice in this matter,

“Good,” He praised as his hand cupped my breast through my dress,

I gritted my teeth to stop my violet insults at him, trying to think of a way of getting out of this,

“Hum… how did the brackens ever get a pretty little thing like you,” He growled as he took the blade from my neck but before I could even move he pressed his body completely against my back thrusting his hips into mine and forcing me to feel the stiff shaft below his trousers, his other hand came to cup my other breast, his hands squeezing and fondling me. “Usually all Bracken girls are wide horse-faced little shits who look like they got pummeled with a sword… but you,” He smirked, “You’re beautiful, and ever so pleasing to touch little bracken.” He praised, “Let's get a better look at you,”

“Don’t. You. Dare.” I warned,

“Ohh I would, I would dare darling,” He smiled in my ear as he grabbed the fabric of my dress and gave it a firm tug forcing the top of my dress down and exposing my breasts to the air,

I screamed and tried to squirm away but he held me too tight,

“Ohh yeah, a very pretty little bracken,” He growled cupping my bare breasts in his hands and squeezing them hard, “Maybe I should take you back to Raventree Hall with me,” He purred gliding his tongue across my cheek,

I didn’t answer, too busy trying to get out of his perverted grip,

“Would you like that? Should I drag my little Bracken home with me kicking and screaming? Throw her on my bed and fuck her cute little cunt?” He smirked one hand moving from my breast to force its way between my legs grabbing me through my dress,

“My father-”

“Like I give a shit about your father. Or any other Bracken, All I want right now is this.” He smirked squeezing me tighter, “And I am very tempted to steal it,”

“Let me go. Let me go right now, or I will scream so loud every man in Stone Hedge will come and-”

“And what?”

“And drag you to Stonehedge on the back of their horses, and hang you from the tower.”

He chuckled, “You can’t really blame me, look at you. On Blackwood land, with muddy knees, a soaking dress, with your tits out. How am I meant to resist you?” He began to twist on my nipple as it hardened from the cold air,

I screamed from the pain, but he didn’t care. His one hand squeezing my breast his fingers twisting and tugging on my nipple, his other hand between my legs stroking so hard his fingers moved between my folds through my dress, his hips rubbing against my back forcing me to feel his hard shaft,

“Fuck… I might not be able to wait, I might just need to bend you over in this field,” He growled,

But quickly while he was so distracted I grabbed my blade from my belt and turned quickly sliding on the mud and grass and slicing his cheek as I did,

“Ahh! You little fucker!” He grabbed my wrist and for the first time we made eye contact, His smile only grew as he realized who I was,

And I gulped, eyes wide and becoming breathless as I now knew… which blackwood he was. Davos Blackwood, Lord Blackwood’s violet, hot-headed son, and I instantly realized just how fucked I was.

“My, my, my… Looks like I don’t just have some pretty little Bracken girl in my arms,” He smirked squeezing my wrist until I was forced to drop my blade, “But I have the pretty little Lady Y/n Bracken in my arms,” He growled licking his lips, “Ohh yeah, you’re coming to Raventree with me little lady,” He smirked as he forced me back around and used my belt to restain my hands behind my back,

“No, I am not,” I demanded my voice shaky,

“Yes, you are, How ever could I pass up such an opportunity? To keep little lady Bracken as my prisoner. They’re gonna have to be very compliant to get their little lady back.” He smirked, “And in that time I… will get to make very good use of you,” He growled biting my neck, “And I’ll be sure you pay you back for that little cat scratch,”

“I swear you try and take me I will scream bloody murder the whole way to Raventree,”

“Will you now?” He chuckled, “Not if I do this,” He grabbed my ribbon choker necklace forcing it off me and before I could even protest he forced it between my lips and tied it behind my head gagging me and silencing me.

I screamed but it only came out as a muffled mess, I tried to squirm but the belt held me too tight, I had no choice, no option but to do as he demanded.

He forced my dress back up to hide my breasts and wrapped his cloak around me pulling the hood up so anyone we encountered wouldn’t know who I was, “Come on now my little Bracken Bunny, Let’s get you someplace comfy.” he smirked taking my blade and my bow as he forced me to walk with him. 

[encasedinobsidian]

smalltown shit

Charlie Swan x fem!reader [explicit, 18+]

Summary: "You’re a little young, aren’t you?” he asks, and it isn’t with a scowl but it’s something of the sort, a narrowing of his eyes and a dryness to his voice. It’s no better than a scowl anyway, his skepticism like a concrete wall between the two of you under the dim lights of the bar where Charlie is stuck with you, just where you want him. Warnings: 3.4k ish words. Porn with minimal plot, implied age gap, unprotected PIV, oral sex, truck sex, alcohol, pining, no use of y/n. This was written a bit fast lmfao A/N: This is my first ever Charlie Swan fic! It started as a joke (just like they all do), but I thought it might be fun to do something different. In case you enjoy my writing and want to see more, here are links to my ao3 and to a heavily Charlie inspired Narcos fanfic I wrote recently :)

Wearing a man down takes a while. It takes patience, a steady effort, bit by bit, like the thick clouds covering the sky above the evergreens only letting down a single drop of rain at a time. Charlie doesn’t notice them at first — the little droplets of water he’s too used to from living in Forks, rain that might let up for a little while in July but comes back every time, like something he can count on if nothing else in this world.

They land on his jacket, on his badges, on his nametag — C. Swan in yellow lettering — on the black strands of his hair. One by one, they seep in, quickly forgotten, followed by more until the windshield wipers on his police cruiser push away the onslaught of rain that’s inevitable at this time of year, on a foggy, hazy October evening when the headlights of the car light the way to his house, and he’s already drenched when he makes his way inside and changes out of his uniform.

They land on the thick flannel of a jacket that always hangs in his hallway, the house empty when he locks the door behind him and runs to his truck. The rain gets on his jeans, on his hair, it gets on the Mariners sweater underneath his jacket. The lettering across his chest reveals itself when he takes off the flannel and hangs it over the back of the chair he sits down on, nodding towards his friend at the bar. 

His eyes scan the room from corner to corner, lazily combing through the other patrons of the bar until he spots you and you lock eyes. And you’re frozen, your friends’ voices becoming a buzzing murmur next to you as you try not to move, try not to startle the man whose attention you’ve pathetically yearned for, for so long, longer than you’ll ever admit to the girls at your table, or even to yourself. 

You have it now, for a moment that stretches like a ring in your ear, long enough for your lips to part, for you to swallow tightly around the fizzy, sweet sip in your mouth, to lick the drop that slides down your bottom lip. His gaze is as intense as it is dark, piercing through the crowd of people in a small bar in a place that nobody can place on a map, where you think it must just be a hallucination or that he’s looking at someone behind you. 

But behind you is a window, and behind the window is nothing but a cover of trees, and his eyes flash open for a split second before they narrow, then trace down, only a quick glance at your torso before they slide back up. He clears his throat, swallows, and averts his eyes, attention caught by the beer set down in front of him. He nods and says something, then takes a sip, a little hastily, inhaling deeply before he leans back. 

And then, there is nothing to do but to look and to wait. 

Nothing to do but wait until he begins to feel those drops of attention, of glances and gazes from your end of the room. He’s not chief Swan under this roof — he’s Charlie, he’s a man in his early forties, he’s a single dad whose daughter came to stay with him recently. He’s a man with dark eyes and dark eyebrows, with a thick mustache and a gorgeous smile you know he hides. Maybe it’s rude to spy, but you’ve had no other real option — a chronically good girl from the start, never acknowledged by any of the Forks PD officers, scurrying away from house parties at the first flash of a blue light, out through the yard and home to your parents’ house. 

You haven’t gotten any attention from him since returning to your hometown either, coming back after nearly a decade away, still a goody two shoes through and through who doesn’t leave the house after darkness settles in the streets. So all you have is random encounters, one-sided as they’ve all been, random sightings in bars and across the street, at a restaurant next to his daughter. And he’s always quiet, always observing his environment without interaction. 

Until now, when it all seems to shatter in an instant, and his usual, calm demeanor is replaced by something flustered, maybe even nervous if you dare to think so. He takes to laughter a little too quickly, he smiles too much, nods along too enthusiastically when Billy speaks to him on his left.  

You can’t hear anything, regretfully — the rain drums on the window beside you and slides down to obscure the view of the forest that the bar is situated on the outskirts of. Your friends talk about something, something about nothing about guys or work or God knows what it is this time. Your elbows rest on the table and the top of a plastic straw sits between your lips as you slowly sip your drink. 

Sometimes he looks over, following the same routine every time as the hour passes; a lull in the conversation, a polite smile, his eyes sliding down to the table, a glance up, and then his head turning slightly, eyes shifting in your direction until they meet yours and he quickly dodges the attention, straightening his back and clearing his throat. 

Once, and only once, he lingers. 

He lets his eyes narrow, focusing on you while you pretend to look away. And he shouldn’t fall for little tricks like this, silly little girl tricks meant to dupe men much younger and dumber than himself, but he’s only a man, isn’t he? 

So it shouldn’t be surprising that, when his friends excuse themselves to go outside for a smoke or to the bar for another round, he leans back and remains seated. And there is no other time but the present, so without excusing yourself, you suck down the rest of your drink, let the bottom of the glass slam against the tabletop, stand up and walk over to him. 

You take a seat across from him and hold out your hand, your name the first thing out of your mouth and a firm handshake given when he reaches out. 

“Charlie,” he says, and the nervousness you saw earlier must be nothing but an illusion. 

“Charlie,” you repeat, a little softer and a little sweeter, “How’s your night going?” 

“It’s alright.” God, he’s dry. If you were drunk, you’d make a joke about how wet it makes you. “And yours?” he asks. 

“Pretty good. Better now.” 

He breathes a laugh and looks around, presumably trying to figure out where you came from, but there are no answers in a bar full of people looking the other way. 

“Haven’t seen you around,” he says, “Are you from out of town?” 

“Nope, from here. I was gone for, say, eight years getting my degrees, though.”

“Oh?” he raises an eyebrow, and you indulge him for a little while, answering questions you can’t tell if he’s asking as a father or a man, questions that come from the same place anyway, things he’d ask a young lady as you bet he’d say, to make small talk when he’s forced to. 

It’s not very interesting, but you can’t scare him off either, can’t plop down into his lap and touch his hair and beg for it. It’s a slow process with a man like him, one that takes patience, and little droplets of attention, a splash of flirting here and there, every question back and forth, about school and work and yada yada smalltown shit. It’s like the raindrops seeping into the fabric of his jacket, unnoticeable until it reaches his skin and he’s soaked, a humidity that clings to him, and fog he disappears in. 

You glance up at the door and see his friends at a different table. 

Time ticks by, and Charlie is dry as ever, regardless of how pathetically you try to squeeze your chest together and lean onto the table between you, regardless of how you try to nudge him with the glossy, heeled boot on your foot. He doesn’t budge, he might offer you a smile in response to a fun story but it’s not getting you anywhere. 

It’s time to be aggressive, and when there’s a lull between you, when the bar is still buzzing with chit chat and the lights are still low, you pounce. 

“Are you seeing anyone these days?” you ask. 

The man looks like he wants to laugh. “Uh—” he clears his throat, “No, not right now.”

“Interesting,” you purr, tilting your head to the side and flashing him a smile. “Best news I’ve gotten all day.”

He huffs. “You’re a little young, aren’t you?” he asks, and it isn’t with a scowl but it’s something of the sort, a narrowing of his eyes and a dryness to his voice. It’s no better than a scowl anyway, his skepticism like a concrete wall between the two of you under the dim lights of the bar, and Charlie is stuck with you, just where you want him. 

So you shrug one shoulder and smile, pushing your lips together before they separate, and his eyes are on them so fast that it’s not even funny. “I wouldn’t say so,” you say as you shake your head. 

He almost seems humored, huffing a laugh as he looks around the room and shakes his head. “What about your friends?” he asks, “They don’t miss ya?” 

“Probably not,” you whisper, scrunching your nose at him. “Does it look like they do?” 

You nod towards the table by the windows and his eyes follow, a quick look over at a group of girls all leaning in towards each other in conversation. 

“Guess not,” he says, in the same flat tone of voice. 

He clears his throat again, and his rejection is imminent, you think, so you try again, one last time. 

“You’re very handsome, Charlie.” Your chin rests on your knuckles, head tilted, eyes sweeping over his face like you have nothing to lose, and he might be able to hide his thoughts, but he can’t hide his fluster. 

“Thanks,” he mutters and averts his eyes, looking at nothing in the corner of the room. “You’re not, uh—” He looks up and spins his mostly-empty glass around, “Not too bad yourself.” 

It’s a little bit like pulling teeth. 

“Thank you,” you say, then chew on the inside of your cheek while you try to think up a way to get him out of where he’s stuck, unwilling to make a move. “Could you— could you give me a ride home?”

He rolls his eyes and nods, downing the last of his beer, and he absolutely thinks he has you figured out. His expression seems to default to a scowl, and it’s only then that you realize how cheerful he looked a moment ago. “Alright,” he groans, then mutters something under his breath while he grabs his jacket. “Let’s go.” 

“Thank you, officer,” you beam, jumping up and following him through the bar, heading towards the exit. 

He opens the door and lifts up his jacket to hold it above you, shielding you from the onslaught of rain pouring down when you step away from the awning outside the bar. Golden light shines out from the stained glass window in the door, bathing him in it as he waits for you to take the step you don’t take. 

“I don’t actually need a ride home,” you admit shyly, looking up at him, “I’m just messing with you.” 

He blinks a few times and his eyes shift around as he breathes. “Alright, why did you get me out here then?” 

A laugh breaks out of you as you ask, “It’s not obvious?”

His brows pull together and he begins to shake his head when you roll your eyes, grab the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss. And it could be a mistake, but it doesn’t quite feel like it when his hand finds your hip and he pulls you a little closer, reciprocating the kiss and carefully giving you his tongue. 

He pulls back quickly, looking side to side, “Let’s—” 

“Your truck?”

“Sure, yeah,” he mumbles, and you hurry towards the only red vehicle at the far end of the lot, with Charlie on your heels and the rain beating down on his jacket above you, on his hair and his shoulders, soaking him by the time he steps in front of you and pulls open the passenger door. 

He barely gets inside before you grab the collar of his sweater and pull him in, spit smearing and groans swallowed as you climb onto his lap. He’s hard already, you can feel the thick of his zipper pushing up between your legs, before he even gets his hands on the bunched up fabric of your skirt piled onto your hips, kissing you again. And he lets his palms slide down over it, onto your ass, giving you a tentative squeeze with firm hands, while he grows thicker, harder, little grunts slipping out of him when you roll your hips over that firm bulk, every pass over it smearing wetness into your panties.

Until it’s too much, and the truck is too hot, too humid. You throw off your jacket, toss it into the passenger seat and pull away from him, climbing back into your seat, only on your knees, and begin to work at his belt.

You feel a hand at your shoulder, pushing gently. “You don’t—” he inhales deeply as he shakes his head, “You don’t have to do—” 

Your hands pause at the top of his pants and you peer up at him with a pout. “But I want to,” you say, “Can I?” 

His head hits the back of his seat with a sigh, his eyes closing as he breathes in again and nods. “Yeah,” he whispers, “Yeah.”

He helps you with his belt then, undoing it with unsteady hands and lifting his hips when you pull the bunch of his pants and boxers down to reveal his cock, to see the thick length of it, the hair at his base and below his navel. You take it into your hand before he has the chance to say much of anything, and you feel his hand at the back of your neck, brushing your hair away — nothing obstructing his view as you drag the flat of your tongue up his shaft, all the way up to the tip where a bead of precome spills onto your lips. 

He groans then, pushes down the top of his pants a little more and lets you take him into your mouth, his cockhead sliding into the back of your throat while he curses under his breath. Your spit smears over his crown and runs down his length, into the curve of your hand to let you stroke him, and every lick, every pull of your lips, makes him sigh and groan, makes more of his precome seep out onto your tongue for you to taste it, for you to swallow and let the soft wet of your mouth massage him. 

And you think it must have been a while, because you suck and stroke his cock slowly for only a little while before he begins to mumble. “I’m getting, uh— I’m pretty close,” he says, and you pull off of him, still slipping your hand up and down his wet cock while you raise up and kiss the side of his neck. 

He groans then too, grimacing a little. 

“You want to fuck me, Charlie?” you purr, “You want me to ride you?”

He huffs a laugh like he’s surprised. “I don’t have any condoms on me,” he says, his voice flat and dry as it ever was, but a little deeper, raspier, rougher-edged. 

“You could just pull out?” you suggest, licking a stripe up his neck just to feel the goosebumps chasing your tongue on his skin, “I could just swallow it instead.” 

“Jesus,” he breathes, “Yeah... Alright.” 

You pull off one boot and begin to yank at the waistband of your leggings, but he pats his thigh and pulls you back onto his lap. 

“Let me,” he says, pushing his thumb under the soft fabric and the strap of your panties, pulling them down over your leg, only bothering with one and not the other, while the rain hammers down on the windshield and it’s silent for a moment, his hands steady and his gaze focused. His cock is still hard too, heavy as it lays against his stomach. 

You stabilize above him, hovering over where he grabs the root of himself and glides his tip through your folds until he reaches your opening. 

“Down,” he says, and you do as he tells you to, sinking onto his cock with a deep breath, pressing your lips to his so that your sigh is shared, letting the whole thing split you open, taking more and more until your hips are flush with his and he grunts, his cock pulses, you lean back and carefully lift up, then roll back down, slowly riding him, half kissing, half panting into him. 

It’s all slow, deep, squeezing around him, letting him slide out until only his tip stays within, and then taking him back inside and he pushes into your cervix, sure to leave you sore tomorrow. Everything is wet between you, smeared warm and sticky over your inner thighs, his groin, dripping down his shaft and over his balls, soaking into the top of his jeans. 

His cock pushes into the most sensitive, soft part inside of you, over and over, rubbing over it while you reach down to massage your clit, still swapping spit like you’re teenagers and he doesn’t have a decade on you. He twitches inside when you moan for him, groans low and rough when you begin to come and you ride him a little harder, faster.

He grabs your ass, lifts you just enough to get leverage, and starts to fuck you, pushing his face into the side of your neck and grunting into your skin, hot and sweaty at the roots of his hair when your run your fingers through it, trying to find something to hold onto, to stabilize when he hits just the right spot and you feel seconds away from unraveling. And the truck must be shaking, the sounds of your moans are only stifled by the sound of the rain tapping on the roof and sliding down the windows, the dark surroundings of a wet parking lot, the two of you tucked away at the very back while you feel every inch of him filling you, rubbing you, making you come once more. 

Until he grunts a little louder, until he pants, “Fuck, I’m about to come—”

You let your orgasm wane with a few slow rolls, savoring them, so few drags of his length inside that you can count them on one hand, and you lift off, climb over on shaking legs, sticking your bare ass up towards the foggy window and slip his wet cock into your mouth. A firm hand around his base, your tongue licking over his head, you suck him until his breath stutters and he releases hot spurts of come that you swallow while you stroke and tease and take every drop he gives you. 

He’s quiet after that, a careful hand on your back while you lick up the last smears of his orgasm and lay your cheek on his thigh, looking up at him. 

“Did you like it?” you ask. 

“Of course I liked it. Did you like it?” 

“Yeah.” 

He looks out of the window, his cock softening against him while he runs a hand over your hair. “Let me take you to dinner or something,” he says after a minute, “Make me feel less… I don’t know, sleazy?” 

You bite your lip and smile. "Will you drive me home after?”

He rolls his eyes and takes in a deep breath, catching your gaze with a smirk on his lips and something a little softer in his expression. "I was gonna do that anyway."

[minhosimthings]

Prideful

Synopsis: You never thought that Lee Heeseung, the man who had proven you wrong in the subject you were best at, would be fucking you on the classroom floor, but here you were.

Pairings: Heeseung × fem!reader, sort of enemies hate sex, includes Sunoo from Enha, and Soojin

Warnings: Smut with plot in the beginning, MINORS DNI, fluffy in the beginning, mention of food, degradation, praise, fingering, oral (f receiving), sex on the floor, unprotected sex (not for you bubs), rough sex, overstimulation, swearing, Heeseung calls reader princess and doll, open ending my babies have fun with that

A/N: idea came into my brain and I thought I'd forget about it and just added it to my wip list but then I was like NOPE IMMA WRITE THIS SHIT. So this makes my third smut for Heeseung (idk why I'm writing only smut for him) enjoy it y'all

Jane Austen once wrote an entire fanfic about enemies to lovers, slow burn, and she thought no one would notice. Well almost no one. Nothing ever gets out of the eyes and pens of literature majors does it? Especially not out of hardcore Jane Austen fans like yourself.

You must have analysed that godforsaken piece of literature atleast a thousand times since you recieved it as a gift for your birthday. And every single time, you failed to understand how such a love could be possible. I mean come on, a man and woman who hate each other, falling in love with each other? Either Jane Austen must have been a reincarnation of Aphrodite, or a madwoman who still kept faith in love.

Your heart nearly exploded when your professor had assigned a full fledged essay-presentation, costing half your grade on Pride and Prejudice. "Explore your opinion!" She had called out cheerfully, "Tell me what your heart truly feels about this beautiful piece and I'll give you a full half grade and no assignments for the rest of the semester." The class gasped in excitement at her words as you pretended to be interested. Internally, you were groaning. Wasting half of your night to make a presentation about a book you hold no love for? The universe really was against you. You picked your books up dejectedly and walked towards the entrance, shoulders hunched and music at a higher level of noise than it should have been at.

"Oh shit!" You cursed, dropping your books at the sudden interruption. A flurry of blue wool flooded in your face, as you leaned down quickly to pick up your fallen books and phone. "I'm so sorry." You apologised not looking up at whoever you crashed into. "It's alright." A voice responded back, and you looked up to see him. Lee Heeseung. You had seen him a few times in class, heard him actually. With his pristine glasses, and his woolen sweaters, he was the definition of a movie nerd. He was actually smart, you had to admit, always quick to respond to the questions that you had no idea about. Best in the class after you, according to your professor. Although his choice of literature slightly weirded you out. You often spotted him sprawled out under a tree, holding Pride and Prejudice to his nose, deeply engrossed in taking in each word.

"Is that The Neighborhood you're listening to?" Heeseung asked, as he handed you your phone, which he had picked up before you had the chance to. "Do you have an ear for them?" You asked, taking the phone from him. His hands felt soft, like the first snow when you were eight. Heeseung shook his and chuckled. "I'm more of a Arctic Monkeys person." You smiled awkwardly and shuffled your feet. "To each his own then."

"Macbeth." Heeseung said, before you could escape from the conversation. "I'm sorry?" You questioned, confused at his sudden outburst. "That line's from Macbeth." Heeseung sent another smile your way, pushing his glasses up from his nose, "Polonius says it, 'To each his own'." You felt a pang of jealousy hit your chest. You didn't know where that line was from. Of course, what normal person would know the origin of a common idiom?

"Cool." Your laugh was not without a tint of awkwardness. "Well-" Heeseung shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "Bye then." "Bye." You bid each other goodbye and rushed off in opposite directions, not wanting to be stuck in another neverending loop of conversation.

"Don't tell me you actually talked with The Lee Heeseung." Your roommate Soojin laughed, accidentally smearing some turquoise nail polish onto your thigh. You quickly wiped it off with a tissue before frowning at Soojin. "It's not a big deal." You scoffed, having another slice of pizza, "I mean he's just a guy. Kinda nerdy actually"

Soojin burst out laughing again, this time shutting her nail polish close. She gasped for air as she pulled out her phone and showed you a picture of a what looked like a frat party. "Girl-" she got up from her leaning position, "Nerdy is the worst way to describe Lee Heeseung. I'm telling you-" she picked up the last slice of pizza, "-he's the playboy representative of this college."

"Oh come on." You scoffed again, getting up to go to the bathroom, "Stop joking around." Soojin shrugged her shoulders as you disappeared into the bathroom. "Whatever you say."

The next day, you strolled into your favourite cafe with your laptop, headphones, a copy of Pride and Prejudice, money in your pocket, a sketchbook, and a positive mindset. Always need one to write an essay right? You were thankful that it wasn't raining today like it had been for the past few weeks.

The cafe was mostly empty, with a few medical students drinking coffee to their death, as they always did. You walked up to the counter, where you saw your friend Sunoo, working his shift.

"Y/N hey!" He flashed his bright smile at you, putting down the glass he had been cleaning. "Hey sun." You clapped back, leaning in front of the counter, "The usual please." Sunoo nodded his head and started to prepare your drink. "So I've heard something." He put on his mischievous smile, one that he often wore when he had gossip on his fingers. "Please tell me it's not about that girl from Chem again." You sighed, as he put a coffee cup down in front of you. "No it's about you dumbass." Sunoo scoffed, taking the money you handed him, "I heard you bumped into Lee Heeseung." You let out a groan at his words, and quickly grabbed your drink, going off to sit in the corner. "Yah take your change!" Sunoo shouted after you to which you shouted back, "Keep it! Your broke ass needs it anyway!"

You didn't get the chance to see Sunoo giving you the stink eye, as you plopped down on the comfortable couch and opened up your laptop. You had prepared a few opening lines the night before, since you had learnt that doing half of an assignment on the day of the announcement is better than starting the next day. Whoever wrote that theory needs to clarify it to you, but hey never pass up a good study tip right?

Immersed by the clacking of the keyboard keys and the pretty syllables decorating your page, you were completely absent from the world around you. Until, you heard a familiar voice, which broke you out of your hypoxia.

Heeseung.

What was he doing here?, You thought, not realising that you were basically staring at him. He was dressed in full black today, a leather jacket adorning his broad shoulders. A single earing dangled from his right ear. He still had his glasses on, which were fogged up completely, courtesy to the weather outside. Chatting away sonderly to Sunoo, as Sunoo prepared his drink in a way familiar to you, Heeseung caught your eye. He waved joyfully to you, akin to a child waving to their best friend. You waved back, not aware of the face you were currently making.

"Hey!" Heeseung said, sitting down in the chair next to you, with his drink in hand, "Working up on the Pride and Prejudice thing?" There were atleast a million other seats empty in the cafe. Why did he have to sit next to you? You didn't really realise how handsome he was, until he was sitting face to face with you. The mere sunlight coming in from the windows seemed to illuminate his face well. "Oh yeah I am." You replied, shooting him a smile, "Same thing?" You asked, wanting to keep the conversation going. Heeseung smiled jovially at you and propped his laptop open. "Yep." He replied and glued his eyes to the screen as you went back to your own work. "The Neighborhood again?" He raised an eyebrow, peeking at your open Spotify. You smiled gently and replied, "Arctic Monkeys?" As if ticking a correct answer, Heeseung laughed and showed you his phone where 'Arabella' was playing. A pretty album cover, you thought, subtle and sleek. "To each his own then?" Heeseung said. You nodded and smiled in response, before dropping your head back down to your laptop.

An hour must have passed like this, both of you hypnotised in writing and editing, and downing the refills of coffee Sunoo was providing you with. You stole tiny glances at Heeseung from time to time. Concentration was a good face on him, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands typing away furiously at the keyboard. He didn't talk to you at all, except for the initial hey and hello. But something about the way he spoke to you in the beginning, about the way he asked if you had a pen, and about the way he said 'Hey you have an eyelash on your nose' made your stomach erupt into butterflies.

Heeseung left before you did and before leaving he had extended a hand out to you. "May the best essay win." He spoke, shaking your hand and showing you his smile. God he never stopped smiling did he? His hand was soft, as was his grip on yours. It felt like how your father would hold your hand when you were little on the crosswalk.

"Girl just ask him out." Sunoo called after you as you were about to leave, "The tension between both of you back there was almost poetic." Even though you laughed at Sunoo's quip, and denied the offer, a part of your mind lingered on Sunoo's words and the way Heeseung spoke to you that afternoon.

The days leading upto the hour of the presentation went fast. Too fast almost. Your mind went over your short conversation with Heeseung atleast a million times, sometimes distracting you from typing. You didn't know where all the red bull cans littered across your room came from, but you remember where you threw every single one of them and why. The presentation was perfect. It must have been checked by your eyes atleast a hundred times. Finally, a time was coming when you would be able to express your true feeling about it. Despise and Trouble ran through your veins as you walked up to the board as your professor called on you to present. The class seemed to hold a tight breath to themselves. Everyone knew you, teacher's pet, best at English, known for using the most difficult metaphores in her essays yet having a straightforward point.

"Shall I begin?" You asked your professor who gave a curt nod and leaned back in her chair, an expectant smile plastered on her face. You returned the smile and turned to your classmates, who seemed most interested in your essay.

"Well to begin with, as one does-" humor was always the best way to start off speeches, which was shown by the subtle laughter of the students, "-I would like to say that Pride and Prejudice may be one of the most despised books I have sitting in my bookcase." You heard gasps around the room as everyone started murmerring. Your professor leaned forward in her chair, her mouth pressed tightly to form a thin line. That's good, you thought, a good way to break into their corneas.

"While most people would disagree with me upon this apparent piece of art, I truly believe that this sort of a romance is highly impossible. And no-dont tell me that this is fiction and in the fictious worlds you can quote unquote 'do whatever you want'." The audience held their breaths back as you continued with your rant. Your professor was watching it all with a smile on her face, knowing that she couldn't disagree with you. After all, you had to present your own opinions no matter how opposite they were to everyone else's.

"Well-" you professor stood up from her chair, as you finished your presentation. It had been a 25 minute rant about the book and by now everyone seemed to be meekly looking at their own essays. "That was brilliant Y/N. Truly brilliant." You professor clapped you on the back, "I must say, you have a flair for arguing in a way no one can find counter-attacks. I wonder why you did not choose law as your major?"

"Because there is another argument to be discussed here."

A cold voice rang through the room, as you were about to laugh at the professor's quip. You spun around on your shoes to face the culprit.

Lee Heeseung.

"Heeseung!" Your professor delightfully responded clapping her hands together, "Well why don't you tell us your opinion then? And we'll see if Y/N can fire back." She sat in her chair again, looking positively delighted at the forthcoming, "A battle of the best wits perhaps!"

Heeseung smiled widely and stepped forward to where you were sitting, plopping down on the opposite chair. Your professor had always kept two chairs facing each other in front of her class, for debates, her reason sounded. And now, as you sat in front of Heeseung and his stupidly handsome smirk, you swore you were going to bring him down.

"First of firsts-" Heeseung began, as everyone's attention caught on you. "-your opinion is speaking from a highly biased perspective." "How so?" You fired back, before he could even breathe, "I had already stated in the beginning, about how this cannot be on a biased perspective, since fiction based in actual words cannot be this animated." Heeseung smiled again, which threw you off track a bit. God he's handsome, you thought, too handsome....

"Of course but must I remind you, that this book was perhaps the first out of many to start with the trope of enemies to lovers?" Why were his eyes like galaxies?, "Jane Austen invented an entire trope, which still remains a genius scan of literature to this day. How could you say it's too animated?"

"Yes but-"

"Furthermore-" Heeseung continued, not giving you the chance to breathe, "inventing new tropes does not break this 'law of literature' as you say. Since there was no law of literature to begin with. So please Miss Y/N-" he leaned forward, looking at you with dangerous eyes, "-don't you dare say that Pride and Prejudice is a worthless piece of literature just because it does not have proof of poetry."

The class let out a breath as you sat frozen in your seat. Someone actually breaking your argument was a first for you.

God, his hair. His pretty curly hair.

You didn't realise how long you'd been staring at Heeseung with widened eyes until your professor clapped her hands together again.

"Well then!" She said cheerfully, effectively breaking you out of your stupor, "I believe this goes for grading both of you an A+. Half of your grade is filled you two! Congratulations!" The class broke out into applause as you thanked her and awkwardly shook hands with Heeseung as the bell rang loudly. "Well class I'll be seeing you next time!" Your professor announced, as everyone started filing out. "Oh Y/N, Heeseung a moment please?"

You stopped your feet from stepping out the door and immediately spun around, marching off towards your professor, seeing Heeseung doing the same. "Yes Professor Kim?" Heeseung responded with those stupid puppy eyes of his before you could. Professor Kim smiled gently at both of you, before pulling out her tablet.

"I need a bit of help from both of you. It'll be sort of a favour to you too." She handed you the tablet, which had a sort of letter open on it. Heeseung leaned from behind you, and put his chin on your shoulder, making your stomach feel clammy. He smelled good too, you thought, like fresh paper.

"An event is being hosted by our Dean for all majors." Professor Kim smiled, "Sort of a career booster you could say. We were instructed to pick two students from our classes to have the assignment of checking essays, and documentations and whatnot pertaining to their majors."

"And you chose to pick us Ma'am? I'm flattered." Heeseung chuckled, as Professor Kim laughed to his quip. "Well you two are my best students." She drawled, "So the assignment I'm giving you is-" she pulled out a huge stack of papers from beneath her desk. It shocked you how quickly they appeared out of nowhere, like magic. "-these are all essays collected by last year's class. I want you to go through them, give them a good critic, and grade them according to you. You will personally grade each one, taking each other's help of course,since it's a group project. And it will lend you a helping hand since you'll be getting a certificate which you can use to get into any company you'd like!"

You and Heeseung glanced at each other and we're relieved to see the same excited expression face back at them. This was a rare opportunity, a diamond of the first water you'd say. And you had to grab it, even If that meant it was with a person you despised with your entire being.

"I'll do it Professor!" You replied positively to which Heeseung also nodded frantically as if to say the same thing. "Great!" Professor Kim clapped her hands together again, "Oh and one rule is you two have to work together in this classroom. Since the Dean wants to provide you with an opportunity to see how workplace relationships doon out."

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you heard her words. You, working with Heeseung in an empty classroom? You would rather have praised Pride and Prejudice.

"Here, the keys." Professor Kim handed you and Heeseung a pair of keys, "You can work in the evening if you want. But make sure to complete it as soon as you can alright? Oh and you can skip classes if you want to do this first, since the Dean is prioritising this before anything else." You nodded in response to her instructions and bowed her goodbye as you and Heeseung walked out.

"So-" Heeseung stuffed his hands in his pockets, "You wanna work on this shit tonight?" "Unless you have any other appointments, sure we can work on it tonight." You responded, coldly, not looking at him in the eye. "Alright then." Heeseung scoffed, "Meet you here at 8?" "Alright." The end of your conversation came a little too fast, you thought, but you couldn't stand looking into his pretty little eyes and talking to him, as if he didn't just embarrass you infront of your entire class a few minutes ago. "Y/N wait!" Heeseung called, running up to you, as you were about to exit the building. "What?" You spun around to face him. "Shouldn't we exchange numbers first?" Heeseung handed you his phone, which had his contact list open. "Why? So you can take me out on a date later?" You shot at him. A smirk tugged on the corner of Heeseung lips, but he resisted, not wanting to anger you more. You looked cute when you were angry in his opinion. "No. Maybe incase you were murdered by someone on the way here, I can call you and scold you on why tardiness is a childish thing to do." Heeseung joked. You smiled sarcastically at him as you handed him his phone back, having typed in your number. "Eight o'clock princess don't you forget now."

Tick tock tick. The clock's quiet sons echoed through the empty class. 'Don't forget.' you scoffed, 'And he's the one who's late.' The time on your watch sounded 8:30 and yet Heeseung wasn't here. You had given up waiting for him, and started on the assignment yourself, already finishing two of the army of papers. You were a hard critic, and it clearly showed in the way you were seeping your eyes through the ink.

"Soojin he's late! I can't come back now!" Your roommate had called you, in the midst of your third paper, complaining about a cockroach in the room. "Just call your boyfriend, and don't be such a pussy it won't hurt you." You scoffed at Soojin, whose scared whimpers were heard clearly through the phone.

"How's the checking going?" Soojin asked, having seemingly calmed down. You groaned and leaned back in your chair, wincing at the crack of your backbone. Your back must have become stiff from the amount of time you had been sitting in that chair. You felt pity for your professors for the first time, having finally been in their shoes.

"Heeseung's not here yet and I'm literally so fed up right now." You complained to Soojin, "That handsome bastard told me not to be late, and now look where I am! Asshole seriously." "He'll turn up, cool down Y/N." Soojin soothed you. You heard a sound of crashing in the background and stifled a laugh, assuming that Soojin must have miraculously jumped from one bed to the other. "I told you he's a playboy." Soojin panted through the phone, "Maybe he's busy fucking some poor girl in his frat house." You rolled your eyes at her statement.

"Please." You scoffed, "He couldn't fuck a girl if he wanted to, with the tiny ass cock he has." Soojin let out a raucous laugh from the other side of the phone. "How the fuck do you know he has a tiny cock?" She chuckled. "Intuition baby." You responded, "And my intuition is never wrong."

"Like how it was on the day of our debate?"

A familiar voice again. But this time, the warmth in it wasn't present. You whipped your head around to the door, where Heeseung stood, leaning against the door and smirking. "Soojin I'll call you back." You cut the call, before Soojin could respond.

"Hey." You called out to Heeseung. "Hey." Heeseung shot back, sitting down on the chair in front of you, spreading his legs wide. An involuntary gulp went through your throat. "What were you saying princess?" He leaned forward, his shirt dropping down slightly, "I have a tiny what now?" The dim lighting of the room, made his eyes look dark, and the leather of his black jacket, gleam more. "I- I wasn't saying anything Heeseung." You responded, turning your chair back to the desk, warmth coming up on your cheeks. Heeseung cocked his head to the side and smirked at your flustered state.

"Really princess?" He smirked, edging closer to you. The smell of his cologne filled your nostrils again. His glasses dropped on his nose, and he hadn't even bother to push them back up. "Heeseung just get to work." You sternly responded, trying to keep your cool. How could you though? When he was so close to you, lips almost touching your ear. "For you information-" Heeseung spoke, turning your attention away from the paper you were working on, "-I had a friend who needed a lift to his dorm, so I ran a little late. But you couldn't wait for me could you princess?" He smirked, laying his hand on top of yours, "Just couldn't wait to critique all those papers like the good girl you are." "He-Heeseung." "Shh don't." Heeseung shushed you, "You want to see how tiny of a cock I really have then hmm?"

"Heeseung we shouldn't." You hesitated, feeling your legs warm up. "No one's gonna know, as long as you don't make a noise alright?" He kissed your neck gently, turning your figure to his, still sitting in the chair. "Oh princess, already wet for me?" He chuckled, toying with the button of your shirt. "Heeseung-" you moaned out, quickly unbuttoning your shirt, as Heeseung took off his jacket and threw it on the desk. You pulled back slightly as your mind came to its proper senses. "Where are you going doll?" Heeseung questioned, hands resting on your thigh, squeezing it from time to time, "Don't worry princess, no one's gonna know."

Heeseung brings his lips down to yours in an instant, wasting no time. You gasp at his sudden actions and he takes advantage of that by entering his tongue into your mouth. You grab at his shoulders while he cups your jaw with both of his hands. Your hands reach his hair, softly tugging at the root and you hear him whine. Heeseung sucks on your bottom lip, catching it between his teeth and pulling it back to look at you. You look up at him and he takes your face in his hands.

“You wanna see my cock baby?” Heeseung asks in a teasing tone as he looks down at you. You could feel the throb in his pants press against your legs as you whimper. “Hee please.” You whine, squirming as he places a kiss between your breasts. Heeseung runs his hands up and down the sides of your body. If he was going to fuck you on the classroom floor right there and then, you were going to let him.

“Oh, you're feeling extra polite today huh? Please, Heeseung.” Heeseung mocks you with a tiny laugh. You groan in embarrassment and hide your face with your hands. Heeseung just lets out another laugh and wraps his hands around your wrists, prying them away from your face. He transfers both of your wrists to one hand, holding them over your head as he uses his other hand to trail his fingers down your body.

“Don’t hide your pretty face now, princess.” Heeseung says nonchalantly as he dips a hand inside your leggings and panties to feel your dripping cunt. His glasses were beginning to fog up slightly as he whipped them off of his face, setting them down on the desk. You clench around nothing when you feel his middle finger dip into your wetness and bring it up to your clit, rubbing slow circles around it. You moan softly as Heeseung teases your clit, never taking his eyes off of your face.

Heeseung begins to rub your clit faster, and you buck your hips up into his fingers. You hear him laugh at your eagerness and he presses soft kisses into your neck. Heeseung takes his fingers off of your clit and he snaps the waistband of your trousers against your pelvis.

“Dirty girl. Never thought you'd be like this.” Heeseung says with a smirk and you dumbly nod your head. The sounds of your heavy breathing and your pussy squelching around his fingers make your legs begin to shake.

Heeseung spits on your cunt to lubricate it even more, and that's what makes you come undone. Your cunt clenches around his fingers, sucking them in as he fingers you through your orgasm.

Heeseung takes his time kissing down your body, letting your need and desperation build by the second. He tugs one nipple and then the other into his mouth, suckling at the perky nubs and massaging your areola between his lips. Your hips are trembling with anticipation, the space between your legs aching to feel Heeseung's kiss.

Stars hover over you, or at least, that’s how it feels. Your eyes are closed, awareness cut off to the world around you except the place Heeseung's face is buried. He devours your cunt like a man starved, swallowing you whole. Heeseung doesn’t come up for air; he doesn’t need to, because all he breathes is you. Your back is arched and arms stretched forward, fingers clutching Heeseung’s hair in fistfuls.

Your thighs are shaking, reflexively clamping around Heeseung's’s face. He keeps forcing them open, demanding full access to your cunt, even as you buck and claw and convulse. Your mouth hangs open in a stupor; a thin line of drool trickles down your cheek and connects to the cold floor beneath you.

Heeseung laps at your slit like he’s never tasted you before, like he never will again. His tongue pads between your lips, upward strokes that end with the tip of his tongue flicking your clit with a firm intensity that has you reeling. Tugging at his hair, trying not to scream his name incoherently, you ride out the longest orgasm you’ve ever had. Tears burn the corners of your eyes, stars bursting in the black sky of your vision. Heeseung doesn’t stop licking your cunt till you release his hair.

“M’gonna fuck you now, okay?” Heeseung says sweetly and you nod your head. He runs his hard cock through your folds, and he catches your clit, making you jerk a little. Heeseung slowly begins to push himself into you and you throw your head back against the hard material of the desk.

“Fuck, knew you’d be tight when I felt you around my fingers.” Heeseung grits out, and he continues to push himself into you until he bottoms out. He starts to move at a slow pace, and he whines when you beg him to move faster. “Fucking whore. Bet you think about me fucking you in class don't you?” Heeseung spits out as he pushes himself harder and deeper into your sloppy cunt. You moan at his words, and you try to reply but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper.

“Hee, I’m gonna cum.” You cry out, and you clench around Heeseung's fat cock.

“ Cum for me princess.” Heeseung. moans out, fucking into you so deep, a ring of your cum and his has formed at the base of his cock. You run your fingers through his hair, harshly tugging on it as you come undone at his expense. Heeseung buries his face into your neck as he cums, sucking at your pulse point. You feel his cum shoot into you and it only prolongs your own orgasm.

After a couple minutes of you two catching your breath, Heeseung takes his face out of your neck and plops down in the chair, pulling you onto his lap. You sit there, dazed for a few seconds, burrowing your head in his chest, his heartbeat reminding you where you were.

"Well that was a whirlwind of emotions." He says at last, when you start to stir from your hypnosis, "You good doll?" You nod slightly and feel Heeseung's arms wrap around you, putting you safely down on the chair, as he put his clothes back on, slowly picking up yours as well.

"Heeseung the assignments." You panic, as he puts your shirt back on you. "It's alright princess." He coos at you, wrapping an arm around your waist, "We can do that in the morning. Let's get you home." He guides you slowly out the door. "So-" he smirks, locking the classroom with his key "Same time, same place tomorrow?"

[angelsrcute]

THEY CATCH YOU READING/WATCHING SOMETHING SPICY. ౨ৎ

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Sub!Idia, Dom!Leona + Fem!Reader ➜ cws: fingering, watching porn (Idia), reading something related to hunter/prey themes (Leona). ᡴꪫ‎

‎ ꒰ † ੭‎ Pt. 1, for the event!

꒰ঌ 𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐚 ໒꒱ — 🪦

Idia who was out because a delivery had come for him, he had ordered some manga and videogames.

You were spending time with him, playing games and stuff, now alone in his room, you decided to go through his laptop for fun. You don't know how you clicked on a porn site, but holy shit, that looks so sexy. The girl in the video was reducing the guy to a pathetic mess, fucking the guy with huge a strap-on. Edging him and making him beg. Your fingers were pumping into your cunt, it easily went in because of how wet you were.

The door opened, “Hey, Y/N, look at this limited edition–” Idia screamed. He was already thinking of running away, the blue-fiery hair turning pink with embarrassment. Dude's definitely fucked up once he sees you staring at him with that goofy smile.

“Wanna try something, babe? pleaseeee..?”

꒰ঌ 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 ໒꒱ — 🪦

He was super bored today, he wanted nothing but to laze around and have a nice nap under a shade. When he got to the garden, he saw you sitting under a tree. Great, you'd make a good pillow.

When he gets closer to you, he sees you're reading a book. Very focused. Interested, he silently sat down behind you, “He caught her and pinned her on the ground, saying ‘Caught you little prey,’ He proceeded to rip apart her clothes–” He read loudly. He lets out a chuckle when you smack his face with the book, blushing as you curse him out. He quickly pins you down on the ground, towering over your form, hands slipping between your thighs.

“Now, herbivore, how ‘bout I make you feel the real stuff? Start beggin’ already.”

[eupheme]

— clean slate [into the fire, part v]

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, sex for favors, sub/dom elements, canon-typical descriptive violence and death, references to blood/gore, anti-ghoul sentiments, physical violence against reader, hurt/comfort, kissing

a/n: please mind the tags! this chapter got twice as long as the others (maybe I didn't want it to end, haha!) and there was a good break, so to keep things consistent, I am splitting it in half! both are being posted today though, so you don't have to wait 💖

Always said he did this shit for the love of the game. But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.

(or - they took something from the Ghoul, and he’s here to collect)

The afternoon edges into night, and he tells himself each hour is the last one he'll think about you.

The Ghoul had waited for you to look back. Stock-still in the swirling dust that bit at his skin. A white-knuckled grip around the thick coil of rope. 

You hadn’t. 

His hand still reaches to scrubs at his neck, his jaw. To wipe you away or rub you in, he’s not sure. 

It doesn't fucking matter. 

He's stuck around a long time. Enough to see generations of families grow old and then die. The last few weeks are no more than a blip, in his far too-long life.

Hell - he's spent more time underground, than with you. 

But something prickles at him. Lingering like a bad trip, leaving his teeth clenching and jaw aching as he finishes out the bounty.

It's messy. 

It shouldn't have been. Should have been easy - but he's aching for a fight, something to take his mind off things. He's antagonistic. 

Could've finished everything up from afar, but he ends up in close range. Another scar marring his chest, new splatters streaked across his dark coat. 

It aches, a deep bruise as it heals. 

Still only slightly dulling the itch of irritation.

I haven't lied about anything.  

Didn’t last night mean anything to you?

It's sometime the next morning, after a night of a starless sky closing in around him, that he gives in. 

Heading the way you went without thought, and when he does notice, he tells himself it's only because he needs more chems. That it’d be a shame to lose a supplier as good as you. 

That it's easier, for both of you to stick together. 

Maybe that's why he was careless. Knowing deep down, it would be easier to find a corpse later than to haul around a bounty, kicking and screaming.

The small sliver left of another man, from  another life, knows he was cruel. That anger had turned him into a viper. Had always been good at striking first. Self-preservation beaten into him after two-hundred years - an old, festering wound. 

He doesn’t know how to apologize anymore, but he can already think of a few ways to distract you. 

Maybe you’ll forget completely, if he's thorough. 

The Ghoul is faster than you are. Needs less rest, less food. Has already plotted just how far you can get in a day. Your footprints faded as packed earth leads to woods, but you’re not the type to wander, and there's only a few settlements in the miles ahead. 

Halfway to his destination, when his eyes snag on a patch of rocks. A broken bits of branches on the trees just before it. There's something smeared across the stone - tasting like iron, when the tip of a finger brings it to his tongue.

Something ancient twists in his stomach, awakening from a slumber. 

Backing up, he's able to piece together the struggle. Seeing the flattened grass, the heavy boot prints, melding with the smaller ones. 

Finding a body, fallen off to the side - angling off the rock with the stain. Something familiar about the look of him.

A boot sinks into their side, rolling them over. A curl of a lip - he recognizes them. One of the two bounty hunters they’d fun into. 

He had hated their eyes on you when they blew through that town.

Something had prickled at him then, but he had ignored it. A grit of his jaw - should’ve dealt with both of them. 

There’s a hole in their head - red spilling down their neck, still tacky to the touch. A clean, close shot. His finger sinks in the wound, the same size as your 10mm. 

"Good girl." The Ghoul murmurs. 

The slightest ease of the knot in his chest.

A crunch of glass beneath his feet, the glint of the sun catching the needle. Another shape he knows well - a syringe. Probably a tranquilizer.

Three meeting one, with three leaving. The dead weight of you weighing down their steps, the footprints pressing heavily into the earth.

Easy enough for him to follow, as he slings his gun free. 

Always said he did this shit for the love of the game.

But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.

Despite being back among faces you knew, fear had been your only companion since the meeting in the forest. 

Hazy memories flicker through your mind. Being dragged, snippets of light and the heat of a fire. The bright sear of dawn, and the dry embrace of the desert again. 

Waking to the feeling of your arms being wrenched above your head. Coming to, hissing and spitting. Nails catching the face of one of them - Baine, you think - his fist cracking down hard against your cheek in retaliation.

Leaving you dazed, as your wrists were caught again - bound in place. A cruel curl of a lip, as they examined you like a brahmin.

“You look like a Wastelander”. It’s spit out, a wet mark against the floor, “We’ll get you back where you belong soon enough.”

You’re not sure how much time has passed. A day, maybe. Hunger gnaws at you - only a small sliver of comfort in the dried meat and fruit tossed your way. 

Axton, the head of the Reclaimers - those who were tasked with bringing people back - had grown up with you. At one time, was perhaps even more than that. A distant relation of the current Overseers, his blood too thinned out to be of use - but even he won’t look you in the eye. 

You both know how this will go, when you get back home. 

Hope drains from you, with each hour. Eating away at the little flicker of hope in your chest, wrapped tightly around your heart. 

Maybe he’d show. 

But despair clouded your thoughts, soon after. 

“You get hurt doing some stupid shit, and I’m leavin’ you behind.”

“You're a goddamn fool if you think I hadn’t been planning on turnin' you in the first chance I get."

Maybe he’d been truthful all along, and you hadn’t listened. Read into all those small moments, weaving them together until they had made something tangible.

The looks, stolen breaths and almost-careful touches. All fleeting, but you had caught them. Holding them close to your heart. 

But life isn’t like the holotapes you grew up, back when everything felt safe.

There aren’t cowboys anymore. No heroes on horses - with their silver spurs and a shining, golden badge. 

No one was coming for you. 

The footprints die out, as the bleached trees grow thin. 

Tall grass to packed dirt, dried by the sun. Rolling hills and then mountains, scraping against the horizon. The dipping sun casts him in a red light that bleeds to black at his ankles, his shadow stretching back long and lean behind him.

But these roads aren't wholly unknown to him. 

Spent time blowing through Junktown and The Hub, a couple dozen miles away. The memory hazy, but there weren't too many places folk could stay, once the sun went down and everything wild and unruly came crawling out.

A feeling in his gut has him stopping two miles down the road. A half-dug quarry, long abandoned even before the world went to hell. Threadbare railings and platforms held together with spit and a prayer, framing the rusted building that cuts into the stone walls. 

The tip of his boot taps a loose rock, sending it off the edge. Head cocked as he thinks, until he hears the faintest clatter a hundred feet below. 

Two-hundred years ago, he had stood on a ledge much like this. Valley of the Gun. The final shootout had his guns lost in the dust. Fist-fighting with the leader of the gang, until they both near tumbled off the edge together.

Honorable, in the way he had caught the man's hand. Tried to haul him up, but had to let go when a knife was pulled - keeping him the hero. A satisfying death that wasn't his fault, a way to keep his conscience. 

All movie tricks. Angles and the implication of falling, as the camera focused on his face that swam with regret. 

Comin' after a girl then, too. 

Thinks that's why the old memory has loosened in his mind. 

Funny how things can change, but the bones remain. How he's still drawn back to life he's left far behind. Even if his conscience was buried, a long time ago. 

Some things linger. He could go down. Take one of those ladders, work his way through the tunnels that are sure to wind through the limestone, and up through the back. 

But he's never much liked being underground. 

Another second of considering, before he's heading for the front door.

He used to like a script, but that was back in the day when the worst thing that could happen was a box-office bomb, not the hell he's been dragged through. 

A half-cocked plan already forming. Twisting that connection between them, his own abandoned contract. Get him through the front door and to the man in charge at least, and that might be all he needs. Let years of instinct take over, after that. 

Had already gotten a good look at a couple of them, when he first picked up the bounty. It had made him curious - why there was so much fuss, over so small a thing. Easy caps, he decided, when he had gotten a look at you. 

Picking up that their brutality had been learned from sharpening their teeth against a silver spoon. Hardy - compared to some Wastelanders - with their filling meals and their pristine weapons. 

But they sure as hell don't have the same grit as one.

Not much of anything, really, when compared to him.

The door opens with the push of his shoulder. Hand beneath the swirl of his coat, finger already fixed on the trigger. Not far in until he’s running into one of them - another Vaultie.

The man startles, wide-eyed when he sees him. Green, in his shades of blue and yellow. 

“Here ‘bout a job.” The Ghoul keeps his voice light, in spite of everything.

Knows they’re keeping you alive for someone else, as much as that makes his jaw clench. No need to go rushing in just yet. 

A flicker of recognition, as the man frowns, “How’d you find us?”

His head tilts, that smooth drawl slipping in, “Wouldn’t be much of a Bounty Hunter if I couldn’t, now, would I?”

The Vault Dweller’s eyes are fixed on his face, that familiar look of fear and disgust - dipping down to the pocket of his nose, the curling smile of yellowed teeth. 

It’s strange how foreign it feels, after the hours spent with you looking at him so differently. 

Maybe he’d been a fool, after all. 

Maybe it’s more than your tight cunt that he wants to bury himself in, to claim. Something soft, bitten back behind his teeth. Something he doesn’t even know if he has a name for, anymore.

Something he didn’t know he needed , until he had chased both it and you away. 

“We’ve already got her.” The man manages, after thinking it over, “Don’t think we need your services anymore.”

There’s another flash of teeth at the confirmation. 

“Agreement was to find her. And who do you think rustled her up?” His brow lifts, “Would’ve been half-way to New Reno by now, if I hadn’t herded her your way.”

That sharp edge creeping in, “Think my time’s worth a little somethin ’. Don’t you?”

It’s easy for the guard to leave that decision to someone else. Standing aside, to let him pass.

“Thank you kindly.” The Ghoul tips his hat, a swirl of his coat as he passes. 

Taking just enough steps past them, waiting until the man’s back turns. Spinning on his heel, after. 

The knife glints between his fingers as he twirls it. A hand pressing over the Vault Dweller’s mouth, before the blade sinks into their neck. 

Muffling the dying gurgle. A grunt as the Ghoul yanks the blade free - leaving the body crumpled in the shadows, as he winds deeper.

One down. 

Hold on, he thinks.

I’m coming.  

His whistle echoes in the chamber. 

Half old-world - a long-forgotten leitmotif that fuses with new notes of his own. A part to play until he doesn't, letting the Ghoul guide him. 

Down the half-lit hallway, the lights flickering overhead from the ancient generator. Everything picked clean like he figured it would be - every last piece of scrap ferreted away, leaving only dusty crates behind.

Still playing the part, as the low murmur of voices grows louder. Ears pricking up, listening for hers. Picking out at least three or four others from the layered hum.

A sneer, at the number. He’s faced worse odds. It’s in his favor really - take out as many fuckers as he can. Send bits and pieces of them back.

His intentions masked, an old habit, by the time he enters the warehouse. A wide steel grate floor, opening up to a second level below, scattered with old machinery. 

There’s a table. Cards littering the top - a luxury brought from the Vault, as they bet using caps. Couple Vault Dwellers and that Wasteland son of a bitch from the town. Four total, one lounging on a sleeping pack as if it’s just another night, and they weren’t bringing you to your death. 

It rankles him, teeth set on edge. 

A scrape of chair legs on the floor, at the drawling condescension of his voice. 

“Ain’t y’all a little old for a sleepover?”

Hands rest on holsters, but they don’t draw. The Ghoul focuses on one - a face he recognizes, the one who had sought him out.

The man’s legs spread, as if he’s got something worthwhile between them. The leader of this whole operation. Axton , or some shit like that - it hadn’t been worth his time to remember. 

“Believe you fellas got somethin’ of mine.” The Ghoul drawls, “I’m here to collect.”

There’s a pause at that. 

One of them, a right-hand man by the look of their padded leather armor - not a scratch on it - scowls. A face that tells another story. Pink marks start at their cheek, jagged lines that end at a thick neck. 

His eyes narrow at that, lip curling. A flicker of unease in his belly - fingers clenching where they rest against his hips, close enough to draw.

“You’re too late for payment, ghoul. Heard you were dragging your feet.” His head tilts, towards the Wastelander who had gone still, “We went and got her ourselves.”

The Ghoul grins - a fierce thing, with a flash of teeth. A lilt, in his voice. 

“Now, what makes you think I’m here for caps?”

It gives them pause. His question - the prospect of a ghoul showing up, unannounced.

“What else you here for?” Another grunts - eyes already back on his cards, a comfort in their numbers. 

“Think you know.”

“The girl?” Atmos laughs, and the sound is cruel, “Heard she split from you. Caught her after.”

A tilt of his head towards the armored man and the Wastelander. Taunting then, “Must not be that good, if you let her slip away. What, she get tired of looking at your ugly mug?”

If they only knew the kind of things he’d done to you. What you had done to him, right back. 

The Ghoul is only half-paying attention. Sticks and stones, all their insults falling on deaf ears. Too busy with eyes that flick over the top floor. Then down to the ground below.

Something flipping inside his guts, when he sees it. Cast in shadow near the base of the stairs, but his eyesight is keener than it’s ever been. 

Arms bound, the knot looped around the hook of an overturned crane. A raw, split mark - swollen and bruised flesh - on the curve of a smooth cheek. Just above where your teeth cut into a piece of cloth, tied tightly around to gag you. 

A tilt of your head, and then your eyes are meeting his. Round and blank with fear. Widening, when you see him. 

His girl.

Muscles string tight, eyes narrowed as his teeth clench. You’d paid for what you did, and he’d be there to return the favor. 

His gaze snaps back, and focuses. Whatever plan he had been working up burns, turning to ash. 

“Always heard that beauty was in the eye of the beholder.” The Ghoul’s tone is conversational - although his blood boils, scalding hot, “But if you wanna see an ugly fucker , well… you best look right there.”

There’s a nod of his head, towards the man in charge. As if on cue, their heads twist to look - just as he draws, and then fires. 

The Vault Dweller’s head caves in. Gore splattering against the blue of his suit. Barely a breath before his finger is tugging again, a bullet going through the chest of a second. 

Always too goddamn slow.  

Hesitant to take a life, even with their bravado. 

Something that molted from his skin with the rest of him, over a century ago. He’s already reaching for the gun holstered at his shoulder before return shots are fired. 

He can feel the flicker of something miss him, before he’s charging. Ducking under the swing of a knife, the muzzle pressed against ribs.

A hoarse shout that is drawn out by the ringing blast. The knife caught and sent spinning into the back of the Wastelander, heading towards the door. 

Flinching, as something slams into his shoulder, just shy of his collarbone, and out the other side. The turn of a head - an eye fixed on the last man standing.

Padded armor won’t do much to stop him. 

“That your handiwork?” The Ghoul growls, as his head tips towards you.

The man's finger twitches but he’s faster - a shot going into the meat of their thigh. Downing them as they scream, as the Ghoul saunters over to tug the hilt from where he’s buried it in the Wastlander’s back. 

It glints a gleaming red in the light, as he adjusts his grip. Eyeing the scripted tattoos that cross over the man’s knuckles - as they grip at their thigh, near-tenderized from the blast. 

Ones that had struck you. Could send them back, spelling out something obscene. A rough laugh at the thought. 

He’s got someone waiting for him. But, he knows from experience…

That this won’t take too long. 

In the hours since you parted, it’s only now that you can breathe.

For a long moment, you hadn’t dared believe. Eyes drawn to the noise above - the loud pitch of voices. 

One of them - rough and low - draws your attention. Everything dark from your angle, an ache as you had tried to see.

Knowing that shadow. The brim of his hat. 

The burn of his eyes, when they fixed on you. You could feel the fury in them, even from here. A muted sound of desperation from behind your gag, as you watched. 

The Ghoul shoots first - the second his eyes pull away, and it’s all over in a matter of moments. 

Your eyes closing at the sound of gunfire, of screaming - until it finally cuts short. Leaving the warehouse eerily silent, except for the clicking of spurs against metal. 

He crouches in front of you, now - and you can’t help the whine. So much trapped behind the thick binding of cloth. All you could do is tug at your bound wrists - neck craning as you tried to watch from below.

A force of nature. Bared teeth a quick draw. Again you’re forced to admit to yourself how lucky you were to still be standing, after your first meeting. 

He had blown through them like it was nothing. 

“Hold on a minute, honey.” That low tone is familiar, calming you as his fingers hook around the cloth. Leaving a smear of red against your jaw as he tugs the gag free - shucking his gloves after.

“Are you hurt?” It comes out ragged. Tongue heavy in your mouth, throat dry. Eyes scanning the dark leather of his coat - all that red , smeared across it, “Thought you got hit.”

He barks out a laugh, your chin trapped between thumb and forefinger, “That’s what you’re worried about?”

Something dark swirling across his features, as he tilts your head towards the light. His thumb pressing at the edge of your bruise, denting skin.

“They got you good, didn’t they?” He murmurs, and you smile through a wince, at the dull ache of pain.

“You got them.”

“Sure did,” It’s distracted, as he cuts at the binds, next. The rope fraying and then splitting, an ache in your shoulders when your arms finally lower. 

“Fuckin’ amateurs.” He mutters again, watching as you wince at the rubbed-raw skin at your wrists. The corners of his lips tipped down, lost in thought.

“Thought you would’ve liked seeing me all tied up.” It’s a weak thing. An attempt at humor, the ache in your heart at seeing him cut by the acidity of your last meeting.

He blinks. Comes back to himself, a hoarse hum of amusement. 

“Only when I’m doing it, sweetheart.” The Ghoul’s eyes meet yours then, a hint of a smirk with the tilt of his head. 

“Can think of a much better way of gagging you, too.”

There’s almost a softness to his tone. Just barely there, tinting the rough edges. Something like hope flutters - delicate, behind your ribs. 

“You… you came, for me.” You need the clarification. To hear him say it. That this isn’t some ruse, a way to take you directly to the source, “You’re not-”

There’s a sigh, as he fixes you with a long look. His head tipping towards the platform above, a lazy flick of his finger towards an arm that dangles from the ledge.

“Well that there man’s the one I got your contract from,” The Ghoul drawls, “Said I was to return what belonged to somebody else.”

Those eyes fixing on you again, “Seein’ as you’re not , and seein’ as that man is now indisposed…”

His words trail off - and you can’t help the small smile, as he finishes.

“I’m thinkin we’re square.”

The look you give him is soft. Admiring. You don’t know how he tracked you down, but he did. 

“You saved me.” It’s hushed, and at your tone his eyes pull from you. 

Fixing somewhere low, off to the side, as he crouches. Uncomfortable with the way you look at him. How you see him. Not used to it, not after so many years. 

You’re not able to resist. 

Muscles stringing stiff when you lean forward. Lips pressed against the leather of his cheek, fingers ghosting against his jaw. 

A huff then, teeth biting into his tongue with the shake of a head. His eyes dark, as you pull back, hovering. 

“Darlin’ if you’re going to be stealin’ a kiss, you best be doin’ it properly.” The Ghoul rasps, eyes flicking down to your mouth.

His head tips towards yours, but it’s your that meets his first. A little sound in your throat as your lips slot against his. Warm and insistent as his knees drop to press into the cement floor.

Tugging at you, as your fingers grasp at his collar. A hungry lick of his tongue against the seam of your lips as you whine, crushing your chest to his.

His fingers at your neck, your jaw. Angling your head, a rough groan as you part for him. Turning ravenous - wandering hands as your tongue slips against his. Panting breaths and a grinding of hips when he yanks you closer. 

“How many were there?” He hums, as you try to sneak a ragged breath.

The curve of a smile when you try to ignore him, a click of his tongue.

“I dunno,” Your mind is too foggy. Too focused on the hands that trace against your waist, “Four? No… maybe five?”

“You don’t seem too sure, sweetheart.” He does smile then, at the little mark between your eyebrows. Untangling himself - a hand reaching down to adjust himself, as he stands. 

“As much as I’d like to take you right here,” He husks, eyes dragging over you, “The last thing I need is a bullet in the ass.”

A tilt of his head, towards the open floor.

“Come on, cowpoke. Let’s do a sweep.”

the last (final, for real this time) part will be up in just a little bit! 💖 thank you so much for reading - this series has become so much to me, and every ask or comment or tag or reblog has absolutely meant the world 💕

[lokischocolatefountain]

Savior

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO) Pairing: dark!Joel Miller x captive reader Rating: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat Warnings: I repeat, DDDNE. Kidnapping, non-con, dub-con, face fucking, bondage, objectification, dehumanisation, captivity, drug and alcohol abuse, boot licking (literally), boot kissing, master/slave dynamics, name calling (bitch), loss of identity, Stockholm syndrome, really messed up dynamics, mention of spitting, mention of boot fucking, mention of watersports but not performed. Word count: 1.7k words Summary: Joel saves you from the horrors of the world only to inflict another horror on you. A/N: *slaps roof of this fic* This fic has everything (again, heed the warnings) I’ve been away for a while now and I’ll probably taken long to post my next fic. But I hope this is a fun read 🥺

The world was a big place and you knew nothing about it. You wanted to. You wanted to go beyond the walls of the QZ and inside those buildings people said were tall enough to touch the sky. You wanted to see the remains of museums. You wanted to see trees and sit on the grass and eat fresh fruits.

In a mockery of this daydream, the universe decided that not only would you never step outside but that you will be confined in a space smaller than the QZ.

You knew nothing about the world, but you knew everything about him. Many people passed by the doors of his apartment throughout the day. But you identified his strides. The heaviness of his boot against the floor, the speed at which he walked, how big his strides were. When you heard the grating sound of metal against metal, you knew he’d slotted his key in the door. You began trembling just at the sound of the door opening, your body fearing everything he would inflict on you.

Yet your cunt throbbed with anticipation. Your heart fluttered with joy. He was cruel, yes. But you knew he cared about you. He shared his food, traded to get you a few clothes, even got your medicines when you were ill. He was violent with you, but that was only because of the hard work he had to do all day.

As he walked in, you took in his appearance. Hands stained black, a thin sheen of sweat on his face and arms. He was tired again. He downed some of the brownish liquor he brought back a week ago and popped in a few pills. Sometimes he even shared them with you.

He put the bottle down and walked towards you. It was summer and you didn’t need to wear clothes. So you didn’t. He said he wasn’t going to waste time washing them when you didn’t have to wear them. With your ankle chained to the radiator, there was nowhere for you to go.

You smelled the tasks of his day on his boot as he stood in front of you, his boot dangerously close to your face. You willed yourself to not throw up. Not again, not again, please no, not again. They were dirty, too dirty. You did everything he asked you to, but you couldn’t bear when he made you fuck yourself on his boot until you came. And you did, every single time.

A sharp sting pulled at every nerve ending on your face as his boot made contact with it.

“Thought you’d died,” he said, unbuckling his jeans. You pressed your palms on the floor and sat up on your knees.

“Still breathing? Let me check,” he said, pinching your nose between his fingers. You gasped when he cut your access to air, breathing through your fuckhole to keep yourself alive. “There’s my bitch… Still alive.”

He took his cock out of his pants, large and intimidating, just like him. You opened your mouth instinctively. Happened when you got the shit kicked out of you when you didn’t keep your holes accessible. Happened when food and water were conditional upon how satisfactory you were as his stress toy. Nose still pinched, he unzipped himself and plunged his cock inside you. Your legs kicked around as his thickness restricted your breath, your cunt tightening around nothing as he let you struggle for a few moments more.

Finally, he let go of your nose, allowing you to see another day. You looked up at him, gratitude filling your heart that he would allow you air. It wasn’t always like that. In the initial days of your captivity, all you wanted was death. But eventually he taught you to be grateful for everything he did. Grateful he gave you a purpose, grateful he grabbed you from the street, that he fed you his scraps and trained your fuckholes to be useful.

You moaned uselessly as your throat burned from his size. Thankfully, he didn’t mind your noises. He was good, merciful. So kind to let you make any sound at all though you were forbidden from talking. He’d fucked that notion out of you long ago. Called your mouth a fuckhole as he did your cunt and ass.

A mouth was for talking and eating. He reminded you often that you didn’t have one. The hole on your face was a hole to fuck, a pit for his cum and spit and piss. When you’d accepted that, you found you had no need to speak.

The small room filled with Master’s grunts and groans, punctuated by the involuntary moans from your fuckhole. You always hated blowjobs, finding the act demeaning and avoiding it until whatever boy you were dating annoyed you into sucking him off. But this wasn’t a blowjob. You didn’t suck cock, you simply complied as he fucked a hole he owned. Still, you tried to be as worthy as you could with the little freedom you had.

He bottomed out inside you, your nose pressed against his belly. Your hair was in a tight grip in his fist, a handle to make you more convenient. But you tried with the little space you had, licking his balls. He moaned and thrusted though he’d fed you all that he had. An animalistic need to seek sexual gratification no matter how. One hand in your hair became two and he began his brutal pace that would leave your fuckhole bruised and out of use for a few days until he deemed it fit to fuck again.

Your face hit his soft belly over and over and his balls slapped against your chin. Your cunt thrusted up into the air, begging for something, anything. It didn’t have to be Master’s cock. His hand, a kick from his boot you so hated, his pistol. It needed to be used, just as the rest of your body.

It didn’t take long for his cock to leave your fuckhole, ropes of sticky white fluid coating your face. Your hole gasped for air and Master, generous as he was, let you have air and water.

No, not water, you realized as the strong taste attacked your senses. The glass bottle you took from was an old beer bottle, the label worn off but a hint of color reminding you of the brand. But it wasn’t beer. Something that they brewed in the QZ that he was kind enough to share to keep your nightmares at bay. You kept the final sip in your mouth and looked up, your throat straight to accept the pills he threw in. You swallowed, tears flowing down your cheeks. You would sleep well tonight, untainted by images of your loved ones turning, of your gun putting a bullet in their heads before they could rip you into pieces.

You bent forward and pressed your lips to his filthy boots, silent tears growing into sobs. You kissed and licked the filth, hoping he knew how grateful you were for this one night of mercy. For thinking about you, noticing how you suffered when night came and the memories of a past life flooded in. With each second of worship, you showed him how grateful you were for the freedom he gave you by chaining you up in his room.

When his boots were clean, you gave it one final kiss and hugged his legs. You rested your cheek on his boots, shivering when he bent down and petted you.

“I know, I know,” he said quietly, his voice soft and kind. He let you weep at his feet for what felt like hours but you knew was only a few minutes. Eventually your sobs died down and he pried you off of him gently. He placed a bowl of slop in front of you and filled the other bowl with water. Sustenance. And you didn’t even have to work for it. You were hungry, god you were so hungry it hurt. But you waited. You were just a useless bitch with nothing left but the base needs of your belly and cunt. But you still had manners. You didn’t take anything Master gave for granted. He placed food and water in front of you, but it wasn’t permission to take them.

He deserved your respect, your obedience. You knew he suffered at night just like you did. Outside, he did backbreaking labor so you didn’t have to. And he always kept you fed, took care of you. You couldn’t give him as much as he gave you from where he kept you so you showed absolute deference.

“Eat.”

And that was when you began.

“My name’s Joel.” He said out of nowhere from his place in his bed. He didn’t look at you for a response. Just spoke it into the air. You left your food and water behind and crawled to the foot of his bed, nuzzling your head against his boots with no other way to show gratitude.

You never knew his name until then. You didn’t know if he knew yours, but he called you Bitch. Useless bitch, stupid bitch, ungrateful little bitch. Good bitch. You responded to Bitch. And soon enough, you were Bitch even in your innermost thoughts. But now you had a name for the man who rescued you, showed you mercy though you were so difficult in the beginning. Because of him, you were no longer a zombie walking the QZ and laboring night and day just for food and clothing. He freed you from the burdens of choice, from the efforts of survival, the agony of humanity.

You didn’t have to throw bodies in the fire, didn’t have to clean officers’ floor on your hands and knees as they leered at you. You didn’t have to fear the FEDRA officers who’d put you in jail just to fuck you. Being human was the worst fate in this world and Master saved you from it. With him, you were safe. Nothing was under your control, so you were now free from self-blame. You didn’t have to fight to keep living a life not worthy of living. You didn’t have to watch others with their children and parents and friends and feel the agony of not having yours anymore.

Here, he’d given you a place at his feet. He reduced you to Bitch, freed you from the humanity that came with the name people used to call you. The world wasn’t such a scary place anymore. After all, you were only his bitch and the world was your benevolent Master.

[littledovesnow]

a growing family | part 4

a/n: the finale!!!! i had so much fun with this mini series, i hope you love it!

warnings: childbirth (but traumatic), idk... hospitals? inaccurate medical stuff (i worked in a hospital but i don't know shit about medicine!!!!)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

-----

Following a few Peacekeepers back to the train, you and Coriolanus talked softly about the conclusion of the tour.

“How did you like to see my old stomping grounds?” He asked, referring to the quick stop you two had made in the Hob so you could use the restroom.

“It certainly looks like the place that could draw a crowd.” You smiled, thanking the Peacekeeper as he helped you into the train.

Coriolanus walked dutifully as you more-so waddled down the aisle to the private car. “Are you feeling okay?”

He had noticed you taking more breaks while walking, discomfort on your face.

Nodding, you toed off your shoes and lounged with your feet on the opposite bench, letting your husband rub them once more. “Just ready to get these babies out of me. I feel like a beached whale.”

Coriolanus laughed, looking out the window as the train began the two-day journey back to the Capitol. “I’m sure they’re excited to be out in the world, have more space to move.”

You snorted, letting your head roll back and lean against the plush booth. “How long do you think we have until they come?”

“A couple more weeks, I hope. It’s still a little early.” Coriolanus chuckled as you let out a moan when he got a particularly rough knot out of your foot. “What are you thinking for dinner tonight, my love?”

You two continued the conversation while you both watched the trees go by, content in your last days alone.

-----

The following morning, you woke before your husband, smile coming to your face when you saw the Capitol’s skyline in the distance.

Slowly rising from the bed, you paused for a moment when the world went off-kilter.

You stood and walked over to the exit of the private car, moving into the dining one for something to drink, never understanding why your mouth was so dry when traveling on the train.

 “Goodmorning, ma’am. How are you feeling?” A Peacekeeper asked, soft smile on his face as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Tired. How about yourself?” You replied, eying the mug of coffee with envy.

You two kept a quiet conversation until the door opened once more, Coriolanus entering the car.

“You could’ve woken me; I would’ve gotten you something to drink.” He chastised, pressing a soft kiss to your head.

Rolling your eyes, you smiled as the Peacekeeper left to give you and Coriolanus some privacy. “Coryo, I’m going to be holed up in a bed for weeks in a few days, let me get movement while I still can.”

Coriolanus tsked as he looked over what would be served for breakfast shortly, smile coming to his face when you pulled his free hand into your own, fiddling with his wedding band. “How are the babies doing?”

Shrugging, you looked out the window as the snow-capped mountains drew nearer. “They’re getting anxious, certainly hope they’re both in the correct position now.”

Coriolanus chewed on his lip as he hummed in agreement, not wanting you to experience surgery if it could be avoided. “We shall see, you’re meeting with the doctor the day after tomorrow, correct?”

Nodding, you sipped the tea that was placed in front of you. “Unless I go into labor beforehand.”

The elephant in the room was finally mentioned, and Coriolanus’ frown returned.

“Coryo, you know as well as I do that there’s a high possibility we’ll become parents before the end of the week. I want as much as you do to wait until it’s safer, closer to the due date, but twins come early a lot.”

Nodding, the blonde took a long sip of his coffee. “As long as you’re all okay, that’s all that matters.”

-----

You woke to a loud screech, groaning into Coriolanus’ chest as the train stopped moving, stationed back at the Capitol.

“Good morning, welcome home.” Coriolanus whispered, voice hoarse with sleep.

“Good morning, Coryo.”

Both of you getting up, albeit you at a slower pace than Coriolanus, there was a small crowd cheering when you two disembarked the train, publicity-trained smiles on both of your faces.

Several reporters for the Capitol News had come to the station, vying for questions about the tour and wondering it’s success.

You sucked in a breath while Coriolanus spoke with Lucky Flickerman, keeping your face neutral as you interrupted the conversation. “Excuse me, Lucky, but Coriolanus and I have prior engagements we need to get to.”

Coriolanus sent you a look as you dragged him away from the cameras. He leaned down to ask you a question, voice soft to keep it off of the microphones. “What are you talking about?”

Looking up at him, you sent him a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been in labor since four this morning. We’re going to the hospital.”

-----

You groaned in pain as your OB/GYN walked into the room, smile on her face. “Didn’t think we’d be seeing each other so soon, my dear.”

“Well, we like to keep you on your toes.” You grumbled, letting out a sigh as the pain dissipated.

“Where’s Coriolanus? I expected him to be stationed next to you the entire time.”

Laughing, you watched as the doctor put some bands over the bump to monitor the twins. “He stepped out to call Tigris and my mother. He should be back shortly.”

Moving to examine you, you looked on the monitor to watch the babies’ heartbeats.

Coriolanus re-entered the room soon after the examination ended, smiling at the doctor when he noticed her, though when he saw the tears brimming on your lash line his smile dropped. “What happened?”

“Baby B is still in a breech position, we’re going to have to do a C-section.”

At the doctor’s repeated explanation, Coriolanus was next to you in an instant, clasping your hand in his own. “It’s going to be okay, dove. You’ve got wonderfully trained doctors, the best in all of Panem, you’ll be fine.”

It felt like a whirlwind while you were being prepped for surgery, contractions getting worse as time went on.

Coriolanus stood next to you, wanting nothing more than to help take the pain away, willing the pain away.

“Mr. Snow, we’ll be going to operating room shortly. We don’t normally allow this, but you are able to sit in the surgery with us. Meet your children.”

You frantically looked up at Coriolanus, nodding rapidly. “Please, please Coryo. I need you, I can’t- I don’t want to do this alone.”

Coriolanus nodded, allowing himself to be layered in the sterile gown and booties, nerves skyrocketing as if he was the one on the table. “You’ll be okay, my love. It’s going to be okay.”

There was an oxygen cannula pressed against your face, IV into your arm, short curtain set up on top of you, inhibiting your view of the doctors at your other end.

Coriolanus pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, salty with the sweat still beading along your skin.

You felt the pinprick of a local anesthetic, the sounds of medical instruments being picked up and jostled, and the low voices of the surgeons and doctors birthing your children.

“You doing good up there, Mrs. Snow?” One of the surgeons asked, glancing up at your stats.

You nodded, too afraid to speak.

“Alright, let’s meet Baby Number One.” Your OB/GYN smiled, and a piercing cry erupted into the room. “Welcome to the world, Little Girl Snow.”

“A girl, we have a girl, Coryo.” You looked over at Coriolanus, ignoring the pressure in your head.

“We have a girl, love.” Coriolanus smiled, tears threatening to spill over.

You heard one of the machines behind you beeping more incessantly, the voices of the doctors growing muffled and distant.

“Coryo, some-something’s wrong. I feel- something is wrong.” You mumbled, words slurring.

Coriolanus felt his heart drop onto the floor at your admission, head snapping to the doctors who had started to rapidly soaking blood up, and he could pick out a few phrases from their rapid chatter, the words “obstetric hemorrhage” sending chills down his body.

“What’s wrong, what’s going on with my wife?” Coriolanus yelled, terror on his face.

“Mr. Snow, you’re going to have to head to the waiting room.” A nurse spoke, ushering him out of the operating room.

He saw one of the doctors pressing his fingers onto the second baby’s chest, while a handful of other surgeons and doctors focused on you, and Coriolanus had never felt fear quite like this.

-----

Four hours had passed since you were ripped from Coriolanus’ sight, four hours since he last saw his children. “A boy and a girl, Mr. Snow. Congratulations.” The nurse had said, smile on her face.

How she could smile in the face of a man whose wife could be dead, he’ll never know.

Coriolanus’ knee was bouncing a mile a minute as he awaited any news on your state, on the babies, on anything.

“Mr. Snow?”

His head shot up when he heard a soft voice call his name, and he saw a nurse approaching, hesitant smile on his face.

“Is my wife okay?” He asked, eyes frantic.

Nodding, the nurse lead him to a private room, away from any prying eyes. “Mrs. Snow is stable. She experienced a large quantity of blood loss during the birth, but with some transfusions, she is stable and should wake up shortly.”

Nodding, Coriolanus let out a sigh. “The babies? Are they- can I see them?”

The nurse paused, and Coriolanus saw a tick in her jaw.

“What’s wrong with my children?”

“The boy, I’m not sure if you’ve decided on names yet, but the boy will need to be monitored for a few weeks here. His lungs weren’t as developed as his sister’s, but with some supplemental oxygen and time, he should be a fighter.”

“My daughter, is she okay?”

“Would you like to meet your daughter, Mr. Snow?”

The nurse lead him to the nursery, motioning for him to sit in one of the rocking chairs. “Newborns do best with skin-to-skin, if you unbutton your shirt, I can place her on your chest.”

Coriolanus quickly undid the buttons, ignoring the nurse’s gasp at the few bruises on his chest from back on the train, and gently placed the newborn in his arms.

The baby was smaller than he expected, having never held a newborn before, but he felt enamored by her, by his daughter. Already, he was wrapped around her little finger, wanting nothing more than to give her the world.

“She has her mother’s eyes.” Coriolanus whispered, soft smile on his face as he rocked slowly in the chair.

Looking up at the nurse, Coriolanus asked about you, when you would be awake and ready to meet the twins.

“It’s hard to say, some mothers wake up shortly after birthing. Others, ones who had complications not unlike your wife, it can be a few hours to days before they wake. Rest assured, your wife is being monitored closely, and you will be able to bring your daughter to meet her mother.”

Coriolanus nodded, blinking back the few tears that threatened to leak.

He was thankful you two had decided to have the hospital facility to sign NDA contracts, not wanting his soft side to be released to the public.

“I’ll let you two bond, just press that green button when you need anything.”

Coriolanus thanked her, looking down at the small baby in arms.

“Welcome to the world, little one. You and your brother aren’t going to have to worry about a thing, I’ll make sure of it.”

-----

Coriolanus looked at himself in the mirror of your hospital room’s bathroom. The man staring back at him did not look like the Coriolanus Snow who was on the presidential election posters that were recently debuted to the public.

No, the man staring back at Coriolanus had greasy, unkempt hair, stubble popping up along his face, and bags under his eyes. Tigris had stopped in with a change of clothing and something to eat, knowing her cousin wouldn’t eat if it meant leaving your side.

The twins were recovering well, the boy’s lungs growing stronger with each passing day.

You were now Coriolanus’ top priority, you still haven’t woken from the emergency surgery and complications from days prior.

The doctors were unsure of why you hadn’t woken yet, speculating your body needed more rest than you let on, the tour taking a toll on your body.

Coriolanus walked back to the chair on the side of your bed, cracking his neck as he sat down and took your hand in his.

“The babies are doing well, doctor’s speculate we’ll be able to take them home in a few days. We have to name them first, and I know we decided on what to call them, but it feels wrong to sign the certificates without you there.”

The blonde man had taken to talking about his day, explaining things the twins were doing, hoping you would wake up and respond to his ramblings.

The only response he got was the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, the only thing keeping Coriolanus sane.

A knock on the door drew Coriolanus out of his stupor, tight smile coming to his lips when he saw Tigris.

“How is she?” The older Snow asked, dropping a small box of baked goods on the table next to your bed.

“The same.” Coriolanus croaked, voice raw from the nights he spent crying, hoping you didn’t suffer the same end that his mother did.

It was as if Tigris could hear his inner monologue, as she hugged her cousin tightly. “She won’t be like your mom, she’s going to wake up, and she’s going to raise those babies down the hall, and she’s going to be your First Lady.”

Coriolanus nodded, dam breaking as tears escaped his eyes, racing down his chin to meet each other.

-----

Two weeks after you had become parents, Coriolanus had to make an appearance in public to show the Capitol he was still strong, and he would be Panem’s next president.

He was sitting next to Lucky Flickerman, answering lukewarm questions and entertaining the premise that he was running on a full night’s sleep, not the coffees he had been all-but bathing in.

While the show was at a break, one of the Capitol News associates came over to the two men, serious look on his face. “Excuse me, Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus looked over to him, Lucky frowning that his story had been interrupted.

“Mr. Snow, I’ve just gotten a call from a Tigris Snow? She said that you’re needed at the Capitol Medical Center urgently.”

Coriolanus felt the blood rush to his ears as he left the station without a single look back, commanding his driver to what had become his second home at this point.

-----

Footfalls echoing off the walls, Coriolanus’ eyes were wide as he turned the corner and entered the room that had become familiar over the last weeks, the room seemingly brighter when he saw your smiling face back at him.

“Love.” Coriolanus sighed, rushing to your side, kissing you as if he was starved.

You kissed back just as eagerly, only breaking the kiss when you felt your stitches pull. “Hi, Coryo.”

“Hi, dove.”  

-----

a/n: the end <3 maybe you'll see this beautiful family in some future fics!

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Uncle Aegon said you threatened muña— threatened!❞

[ Aegon amusingly reveals to your children how his brother actually met you. ]

[ 2,272 ] | aemond targaryen x dr. wife!reader, modern au!

contains— no warnings, just fluff, innuendo - children (you & aems have four kids hsdhjsdhs) - aemond being a dick the first time he met you!! but within reason ig??? - you're a doctor, hon, cos you're so smart - aegon being the fun, shit-stirrer uncle help - hospital? accident but no graphic depictions.

a/n— enjoy my first fic mwa ♡ comment, like & reblog at will!

Every weekend, you spend your days with your mother in law and the rest of the family. Family— to your husband — is very important. Spending it surrounded not just you and your kids, but his mother, his siblings, and the afternoon sun casting a glow over the family home that he grew up in, through hells and heavens, was everything to Aemond Targaryen.

A few times a year, Aemond forgets his family also included his older brother.

Because when the birds are chirping, the music of the trees swaying in the breeze are calming, and you are lying on top of him on the hammock, lazily swaying about as he relished in the feel of your body on top of his, your warmth engulfing his senses, and a book he placed gently on top of your back— of course Aegon Targaryen was going to be the reason his oldest child and teenage daughter, was going to come thundering in big steps and a huff, smacking her hands to her hips and glaring at her father.

"You lied to me, daddy!" she half roared as she stopped right in front of him. Her siblings, like little ducks, followed suit as they clamoured all over the hammock, giggling at their mother who woke up from her drowsy reverie, blowing raspberries at them before turning amusedly at their daughter, then to Aemond.

"What'd you lie about, hon?" you asked with sleepy mirth in your eyes.

"Apart from Santa and the Easter Bunny incident, I have no idea." He kissed the top of your nose, then sighed, as you rose and untangled yourself from him, picking up your youngest, Daegon, only about four years old, murmurs of asking about his day and did he enjoy having tea with his grandma.

He then turned to his eldest daughters, impatience and betrayal exuding from them in spades (he often enjoyed how much his daughters resembled him; not so much in fiery-licked rage), and he sighed again before he turned to Valera, his eldest. "Can you elaborate better, little dragon? As far as I can remember, I have not lied to you since you were six."

"You said you met mom through Auntie Hel, you lied," your third child and eldest boy, Rhaegar, said with a happy little giggle as he hid from his father into the dress of your skirt, clinging to your leg. Both of you froze, you with a slow, widening smile as you realised the kids knew.

Aemond on the other hand, wasn't as amused. In fact, his entire soul froze.

"Who—"

"Uncle Aegon said you threatened muña, threatened!" your second daughter, Rhaella, shouted, eyes bugged out in disbelief. Rhaegar giggled again, no doubt remembering the chaos that ensued once their uncle told the magnificent story without his permission as his sisters lost their mind.

"I—"

Valera, often sweet and admired her father fiercely (she had three years of being an only child before Rhaella was born, and Aemond did not hold back in spoiling her), started to have tears in her eyes as his heart squeezed at the sight.

"You lied, daddy, how could you?" There was devastation in her voice that mirrored Aemond's, a panic growing deep in the pit of his stomach while you tried to muffle your snickers behind your youngest's head.

He would have glared at you if he didn't feel like he was about to lose his mind, instead employing his best 'please help me i will literally do anything you want' wide eye, before you chuckled, shaking your head as you put down Daegon who immediately plopped down on the ground, yanking grass. Rhaegar followed, trying to find bugs; a habit he formed by hanging out with Auntie Helaena.

As you keep a mindful peripheral eye on your boys, you gathered your daughters to you, they immediately latched to your torso as if they weren't thirteen and ten respectively, sniffling and glaring at their father as he was made public enemy number one.

You bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from bursting into laughter as his face sunk deeper into despair, standing up, unable to stay seated any longer, offering them open palms of mournful looks and piercing glares at the manor behind his girls where the reason for his current predicament was no doubt giggling like an idiot.

"My loves, tell me, what did Uncle Aegon actually tell you?" you ask soothingly, running your hands through their silver hair. They looked up at you mournfully, and you bit your lip harder as you realised they even looked like their father in this moment.

"H-he said," Rhaella sniffed. "That he was angry at you. At the hospital."

"And that he yelled at you!" Valera wailed, shooting his father a withering look that had Aemond sinking into himself before he shot his own withering look at the house again, murder in his eye.

"I did not yell at your mother, Valera."

Amused, you raised an eyebrow. "And what would you call it?"

He shot you a 'you're not helping' look as he ave a disgruntled little hum. "I wouldn't it call it 'yelling', my love, merely raising my voice."

At the sort of confirmation, Val and Rhae let out a hiccuped wail. Aemond begun marching back at the house, fingers flexing with a mutter of, I'm going to rip him from spleen to spine, break every bone in his body and stomp on his—

You jolt out your arm, grasping his, laughing lightly as you brought him close and gave him a peck to the corner of his lips. This abated him, if slightly.

"Please don't kill your brother at your mother's house," you whispered against his lips, grinning.

He rubbed your back, more a habit he used to keep himself in control, whispering back, "Wouldn't be the first attempt."

"Then don't kill your brother with your children present, and your wife, who is a doctor. It is literally against my Hippocratic Oath, darling."

"It's why you're the doctor, my love. My job is to defend our honour freely."

"I really think this is your honour instead of mine." You giggled against his lips as he groaned, and you turned back at your daughters who frowned at both of you. You smiled calmly at them. "Okay, okay, girls. I don't think your Uncle Aegon told you the full story. Let Kepa tell you, hm?"

"Is it a good story?" Rhaella asked, wide eyed. "I don't want to know it if kepa sucked."

"If kepa sucked, does that mean we're bastard children?" Val frowned. "Lyanna said bastard children happens when fathers suck, her father said so."

Aemond and you shared a look, his in alarm, yours in complete mirth, before you burst out laughing, unable to stop yourself anymore.

"What is with everyone saying things to children?!" Aemond inhaled deeply. "Please let me explain. It's a long, longer story than just me raising my voice at your mother. Very interesting that your Uncle Aegon left out the part that I was panicking because of your Aunt Helaena and Uncle Daeron."

"Ha?" Rhaella's eyes comically widened further as she pulled away from you and moved closer to her father. In relief, like a cartoon cat dangling the cheese in front of a mouse, Aemond pulled her hand gently until he managed to wound her arms over his torso. "What happened to Auntie and Uncle?"

"They got into an accident, dōna mēre sweet one," Aemond murmured against her head, palpable relief as he kept her close. Rhaegar, bored brought himself and his little brother to their father, until Aemond swept them the four of them into the hammock, Daegon giggling and blowing bubbles at his father's rearranging of them so they wouldn't fall.

"Wanna go?" you teased your eldest daughter who was squirming not being part of the little huddle. Aemond opened his arms, smiling hopefully. You laughed as Valera gave you a kiss to your chest and raced to her father and siblings, moving around until they all managed to fit together.

The tree creaked as you placed your hands on your hips, pouting at them playfully as Aemond met your gaze with a shit-eating proud smirk on his face.

"Come, ñuha prūmia my heart."

"And risk crashing and burning? No, thank you. Go tell your little story while I avenge your honour and maybe get lemon cakes."

At the chorus of 'me toos' and 'yays', Aemond mouthed 'I love you' before you disappeared off, and he turned to your kids, keeping them close to his ribcage; little pieces of his hearts that grew legs and arms.

"Okay, ñuha byka zaldrīzoti my little dragons, so it all started with an accident that was entirely your Uncle Aegon's fault. . ."

Your Uncle Aegon had borrowed your Uncle Daeron's motorcycle to get to a frat party because the girl he liked would be there— this is irresponsible, children, and this is why you shouldn't be riding motorcycles and going to frat parties, yes Val, it's not as cool as it looks — anyway, his car had a broken taillight and he forgot to had it changed or tell anyone.

Your Uncle Aegon... didn't return the bike— or returned back home for the rest of the night, yes Rhaella, it was because he was, um, reading with the girl all night, like your mom and I do when we go to bed, yes Rhaegar, like how we read to you but, um, just with them.

Anyway! Your Aunt Helaena's little pup at the time, Dreamfyre, yes, baby, Dreamfyre was a puppy before she was a big dog, just like you— Dreamfyre got sick, and since Uncle Daeron was at home and he had a bike, Hel asked him. But then they saw it was gone, they had no choice but to take your uncle's car. They didn't notice the taillights.

They were speeding through, which is bad, yes, don't speed, but this was an emergency and Uncle Daeron was doing his best to hit every red stoplight when they tried to go one way but the light didn't go on, and they got into an accident.

No, Rhaegar, they didn't die, you know this, your Uncle Daeron is with Auntie Nyra, remember? And Aunt Hel is just inside, don't cry, baby. Ok, so where were we? Right, accident.

I get the call and I was panicking, out of my mind. All they said was that both of my siblings were at the hospital, declaring your uncle's plate number and I just knew it was his fault. I was already pretty angry then, and I might have transferred most of that to your mom.

Your mom, at the time, was a resident. A first year resident so she still had bad hours, and at the time, her shift mate had gotten sick and no one was able to take her shift.

Yes, dōna mēre sweet one, the times when muña can't come home fast enough. Because she has to be at the hospital to save people.

That night, your mom had been awake for 32 hours. She was not having a good day. She had lost a patient that day too, but I didn't know that, hm? She was just trying to get through the rest of her shift, having finished checking up on your uncle, when I had barrelled through like an angry beast.

All I could really remember was that I couldn't see your Aunt Hel, and your Uncle Daeron was on the hospital bed with a cast on his foot, and your mom had just looked away when I... well...

"— When you started ranting like an absolute madman, demanding better care of your baby brother when he wasn't even wincing in pain, asking for a real doctor because I looked five shies away from having graduated high school," you said, grinning wide as you handed your procured lemon cakes, and outright laughing at Aemond's sheepish, flustered look as both of his girls stared at him wide eyed.

"Kepa, oh my god," Val murmured, munching on her pastry. "That is so bad."

"You had no game," Rhae continued, sort of perplexed about the reason for her conception. "How did mom ever like you?"

"I would've slapped you," Val confirmed, nodding. "Just like you told me I would do if boys acted stupid."

As you couldn't stop laughing so hard you were bent over, your boys found your joyous display wonderful, pushed and kicked around their father while their sisters yelled about their lemon cakes, before reaching your skirts and you started spinning them around, plopping on the ground not a minute later, snuggling your babies close.

Aemond breathed a laugh, pulling his daughters close. "I know, I know, it was so bad. I was actually impressed your mother didn't slap me."

"I wanted to strangle him with the dextrose!" you chirped. "But I made an Oath, so I didn't. But ohh, with that haughty look your father sometimes get when he thinks— no, when he knows he's right? When he doesn't even need to say I told you so, he's just smirking like it?"

At your daughters— even your darling Rhaegar's triple nods, Aemond made a hm of offense, lips flattening.

"I made you three," Aemond said.

You coughed.

"I helped make you three. This is betrayal," he declared before his hands found its way to your daughters sides and tickled them with no mercy. Crows of 'Kepa, please!' between giggles warmed your chest.

"Aemond," you chidded as Rhaella gasped, snorting, and he stopped.

"So how'd you make mom fall in love with you?"

You and Aemond shared a look, your entire life stretching with one warm gaze, and a smile stretches both of your lips. Its lovesick, and familiar to your kids. Rhaella coos at it, but Rhaegar, having favoured his Uncle Aegon, makes a gagging noise before you started tickling him too.

"He apologised," you said. "Took him several tries. Your Uncle Daeron was actually ready to be discharged by the third day. Your Kepa brought him everyday to have a 'check up'."

"Daddy... that is still so lame," Rhaella whispered, in awe of how dorky her father is. Val is hiding herself in shame.

"Got her to accept my apology, and say yes to a date, you two should be grateful," Aemond said smugly.

"Why, mom?"

"Well, he was handsome for one." You snorted at his smirk. "He was sweet for another, explaining he just panicked, and I could understand that. Also he groveled for a long, long while."

"Even after the first date?" Val asked, eyes owlish.

You smirked. "Oh, definitely."

"I did deserve it."

"You did."

He smirked. "But I charmed you anyway."

You rolled your eyes. "You did."

"Come and give me a kiss, my love."

"Ewwww!"

[sxxythingz]

Mine

Neteyam Sully (22) x Omatikaya female (22)

Warnings: smut, cursing, p n v, dom Neteyam, aged up characters, creampie (😏), Neteyam low key being jealous

WC: 2.2K

🛑MDNI🛑

“So what do forest people even do for fun?” Ao’nung asks you, his attention completely turned towards you as you smile brightly at him. “Well, we typically ride our ikrans, go hunting, run through the forest. But me personally, I enjoy just laying in the middle of the forest and enjoying the peaceful sounds around me.” Your tail sways from side to side at the thought of your home and how much you miss it.

You and the Sully family have been in the Metkayina Reefs for about 7 months now, you didn’t have to leave but you are the girlfriend of Neteyam Sully, the oldest son of Toruk Makto Jake Sully. You decided to leave your home to be with Neteyam because the truth is, home to you is wherever he is and he felt the exact same way about you.

“So do you like, swing through trees or something?” He chuckles lightly after his question, making you giggle as well before clearing your throat. “Well I mean yeah actually. I do enjoy swinging from trees, you guys would love it, it’s so much fun.” You respond back to Ao’nung, a smirk crossing his lips as he looks you up and down. “I know what you can swing from.” He reaches his hand out to you, caressing your arm and making you feel uncomfortable as your smile drops.

“Hey!” Before you can get another word out, both your heads turn towards the deep voice that’s approaching you and your heart drops. Neteyam quickly walks towards both of you, his eyes glaring into Ao’nung’s as he approaches him, pushing him back with one hand away from you and getting in front of you.

“Back. Off. She’s mine, fish boy.” You can only see the back of Neteyam’s head, but you could feel the anger beaming from his body. Ao’nung’s arrogant smirk grows wider as he puts both hands up, slowly back away and chuckling. “Smart choice. And stay away from her, I don’t ever want to see you talking to her again.” Neteyam gives him one last glare before turning around to face you, firmly grabbing your arm and walking off with you.

“Neteyam I-“ “I don’t want to hear it, Y/n.” Neteyam cuts you off mid sentence as he continues to walk with your arm in his grip, almost like a child until you reach the mauri that both of you share. Once you enter the mauri, he lets go of your arm and huffs loudly. “How many times do I have to tell you not to speak to him, Y/n? What part of that do you not get, hm?” He doesn’t even bother looking at you while he speaks, but instead his eyes stay averted towards the ceiling of the mauri, as if he doesn’t even want to see you.

“But Neteyam, you haven’t given me the chance to explain anything.” You attempt to protest, finally turning Neteyam’s attention towards you as he scoffs. “What fucking excuse do you have for talking to him? Even after I told you that I don’t feel comfortable with you saying anything to him.” He folds his arms over his chest waiting for your response. You can see the anger in his eyes, making you nervous. You had never seen Neteyam so angry before.

“He was just asking me questions about home and I was answering. I don’t see the problem, unless you’re just jealous of me talking to him.” You mimic his action, folding your arms at him. Before you can even blink, he quickly steps towards you, wrapping his large hand around your throat and pulling you chest to chest with him. No, you’ve never seen Neteyam this angry at you, but yet you secretly loved this side of him. The angrier he got, the more it turned you on.

“Y/n. Don’t fucking play with me right now. I’m not jealous of shit, you’re mine and not his. And you need to act more like it.” Your eyes bat at him, the tiniest crack in the corners of your mouth at his jealousy that he’s trying so hard to hide, but failing miserably. “And if I don’t act like yours, then what Ma Teyam?” You knew that testing him would just make him angrier, but you couldn’t help but to push those buttons.

“I’ll make you scream my name so loud that everyone knows who you belong to.” He smirks down at you, turning you on even more. “So do it my love.” Those were the only words that he needed to hear before you feel his lips crash into yours. His kisses are usually so soft and filled with love and passion, but this time his kiss is filled with need, want, desire.

He kisses you at a pace that you can’t keep up with, his hand still tightly wrapped around your throat but not tight enough to choke you. His tongue always prods at your lips, almost as if he’s asking for permission, but this time he pushes his tongue past your lips, forcing your mouth open. His hand unravels itself around your throat and he immediately brings his hand down to your loincloth, pushing past the cloth to feel the slick that’s covering it.

“You like it when I get mad at you, don’t you?” He chuckles as he pulls your loincloth to the side, his fingers collecting your slick and bringing them back to your clit to rub circles around the nub. “Neteyam..” You softly moan his name, closing your eyes as you move your hips to the rhythm of his fingers. Neteyam was your first, he knows your body like the back of his hand and you guys would always do this when you were back at home, but since you’ve been here you can count on one hand the number of times you two have had sex. And that would be about four times.

Maybe it’s because of the time frame, but his touches set your skin on fire. It feels new, almost like it’s your first time all over again, even with such a small thing it’s almost too blissful. Neteyam pulls his fingers away from you, bringing them back up to his lips to lick your taste off of his fingers. “Mm, I forgot how good you taste yawne. Here, taste.” He brings his fingers to your lips, your mouth automatically opening and he slips his fingers into your mouth for you to suck on them while you stare into his eyes, earning moans from both of you.

“Go stand against the wall.” He sternly commands from you, your eyes squint at him in confusion as he’s never told you to do this but you quickly oblige and go stand against the wall, facing him. “No yawne, turn around and face the wall.” His finger spins in a circle as he watches you turn around and face the wall. “Good girl, now put your hands on the wall.” You oblige yet again, placing your hands on the wall. You feel him come behind you, ripping your loincloth off of you, earning a gasp from you as you feel the cool breeze hit your most sensitive spots.

“Spread your legs for me princess.” He caresses your back, massaging the middle as you spread your legs. There were no words to describe how you felt, how turned on you were. This was something new, his demanding nature never came out towards you, but today that’s all that it is. The command coating his throat just makes you want him even more.

“Since you want me to fuck you like I’m jealous, I will.” You gulp hard as you hear him quickly coming out of his own loincloth and tossing it to the side. He lines himself up with your entrance, collecting your slick on the tip of his dick with one hand firmly holding your hip.

“And you better not fucking run.”

All that’s heard is the sound of your scream as he rams himself into you, his hips completely flat against your ass as he bottoms out into you. “Fuck! Neteyam!” You yell out, reaching your hand back in an attempt to push him back, but he quickly takes both of your hands into his own and places them against the wall. “Don’t fucking touch me. Take it, princess. You asked for it, so take it.” He doesn’t give you any time to adjust before he pulls himself out of you and rams his hips back into you.

“This is what you wanted, hm? You want me to be rough with you? Is that why you talked to him even when I told you not to?” His hips continue to slap against yours, his thrusts getting harder with every question that he asks you. “N-Neteyam, please.. I-I’m sorry!” You try to apologize but you hear him chuckle behind you at your weak attempt to get him to slow down. “No, fuck that. I’m giving you what you wanted. Every time that you talk to him, I want you to think about me fucking you.”

He lets go of one of your hands, bringing his hand down to rub circles around your clit as you feel your stomach beginning to feel like it’s in knots. “Nete… I-I think about to cum!” You feel your eyes rolling to the back of you head until you feel a hard slap against your ass with Neteyam’s hand. “You better not fucking cum until I tell you to.” You huff in response, he’s never denied you of an orgasm before and you don’t know if you can hold it in.

He runs his hand up your back until he reaches your soft braids, entangling his hand through them and pulling roughly to pull your head back. “What’s my name?” His voice trembles, letting you know that he’s not too far himself. “N-Neteyam..” You softly coo out, but that’s not good enough. He slams his hips into you, making you yell out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“What is my name?” He asks you yet again, your eyes not even being able to focus anymore as he continues to hit the perfect spot. “Neteyam!” You manage to scream out through your groans, making him chuckle. “Louder, princess. I can’t hear you.” He slams his hips into you once again, your nails digging into the walls of your mauri.

“Neteyam! Fuck, I-I can’t hold it anymore!” A deep growl of satisfaction grumbles through Neteyam’s throat. “Do you promise to never talk to him again?” His words slur as his thrusts lose their rhythm, bringing sloppy. “I-I promise Ma Teyam, I’ll never talk to him again. Just p-please let me cum.” You pant out as you feel Neteyam’s grip on your hips get tighter.

“Cum on my dick, princess.” That was all it took before your body finally let go, releasing the tension pinned in the pit of your stomach on him. Your moans and groans of satisfaction can be heard from halfway across the beach, but you don’t care and that was exactly what Neteyam wanted from you. Deep down, he was jealous of you even looking Ao’nung’s way but his pride wouldn’t let him tell you that.

“Shit, I’m cumming!” You feel Neteyam’s warm liquid fill you up as you grind your hips on him, a mixture of both of your groans filling the room as he slows down his pace. After a few minutes of you both catching your breath, Neteyam pulls out of you but your knees are so weak that you almost fall to the ground before he catches you.

He carries you bridal style to the mat that you guys share, carefully laying you down and going to grab a cloth to clean you off. One thing about Neteyam that you absolutely loved was the after care that he always gives you after you guys are done, how gentle and loving he is with you. He leans down and kisses your forehead, your nose and then your lips, making you smile.

“I love you, Y/n.” He places his forehead on yours and closes his eyes. “I love you, Ma Teyam.” Your heart flutters just at the sound of his name coming out of your mouth. You could never choose anyone over him and deep down, he knows that. He finishes cleaning you up and helping you get dressed, then gets dressed himself. You both get ready to step out of your mauri hand in hand, sure that nobody could hear you or even knew that you guys had disappeared.

“So will you just admit that you were jealous?” You look up at Neteyam, watching him roll his eyes at you. “I was not jealous. I was just reminding you that you’re mine.” He gives a smack to your ass, making you laugh as you step out of your mauri. Your laugh quickly comes to a stop as you look and see Ao’nung and his friends staring at you and Neteyam. His friends clearly trying not to laugh and Ao’nung staring in disbelief of what just happened.

You feel Neteyam wrap his arm around your waist, pulling your body into his with a smirk on his face. “And I will admit… I might’ve been reminding them too.” You hit him in his chest, embarrassment clouding your face before finally laughing it off. You lay your head on Neteyam’s shoulder, walking past the boys as Ao’nung gives you a dirty looks.

If that was Neteyam’s reaction to you simply talking to Ao’nung, maybe you should do it more often… 😏

A/N: Hehehehe that ending is kind of toxic, I know 😂 but y’all… it took me forever and a day to get another fic out and I have a reason! That reason being I literally hate my job and it put me in a state of depression to the point where I couldn’t do anything buttttt I quit so there’s that 😂🥳 anyways, I hope you guys like this one and I now have more time post more for you guys! Enjoy 💕

[gh0stsp1d3r]

idk if you’re familiar with teen wolf but could i request a fic with loser!Luke who’s similar to Stiles stilinski and aphrodite!reader is similar to lydia. No one sees that reader is more than a pretty cabin 10 girl and idk i think it would be cute if luke recreates the “hi y/n, you look…like you’re gonna ignore me” ugh loser!luke just gives me too much in my feelings

𝒫ℴ𝓅𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓇

I LOVE LOSER LUKE AND TEEN WOLF AHHH

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Has she even looked your way?” Chris asked, listening to his brother's fantasies. The two walked through the woods, bags slung over their shoulders.

“A few times. She talks to me when we spar.” He shrugged, “and when we check cabins together.”

“Mmm… right, and in those few times she’s become interested in you? You have to make some sort of effort.”

“Why wouldn’t she be?” He joked; Chris chuckled.

“Because she’s Aphrodite’s favorite, she’s the most popular girl at camp, almost every guy wants to be with her, and every girl admires her. She beats you in sword fighting from time to time and she’s a God at archery.”

“I still gotta chance. And she does not beat me in sword fighting.” He shrugged, a small smile on his face.

“Mhm..”

He nudged Chris and asked him, “what about you? You got your eyes on anyone?”

“Nah.” He shook his head.

The two continued chatting and walking, when Luke saw someone coming up quickly in the corner of his eye.

Chris nudged him this time, raising his eyebrows.

“Hey y/n, you look…” Luke began to say, but you just walked past him, not acknowledging him.

“Like you’re gonna ignore me.” He mumbled to himself, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment as Chris laughed at him.

“Shut up.” He groaned, rolling his eyes at Chris.

And it was just his luck that you were heading to the same spot as him.

The ocean was a common spot for campers to get away and escape. It was a long walk there but it was worth it, it was beautiful and it was quiet.

But today was Sunday, most kids would be having fun with their friends and taking this day off. You were heading there to practice.

Soon, they had reached it and they saw you already there, ready with your bow in hand. There was a few targets on the trees. They watched you, looking like dears in headlights when you turned to look at them.

“Can I help you..?” You asked them, slightly annoyed.

“No. No. Sorry.” Chris said, grabbing Luke’s arm and dragging him as far as possible and onto the sand.

“She’s so…” he mumbled to himself, as he took off his shirt and turned back to face you. He took off his jeans, his shorts underneath.

You furrowed an eyebrow as you saw him, he messed up your shot as you turned to look at him. Jesus, he was ripped. You thought.

“You have it bad, you know that? She’s not even using charmspeak.” Chris replied. “Turn back around, you look creepy.”

Luke obliged, turning to look at Chris now as he took off his own shirt and jeans, his swimming shorts underneath.

The two raced to the water, jumping in. Luke had won, the two laughing.

You focused on your shooting, however. Trying your best to ignore the pair. They swam around, racing each other while talking loudly. They then sat down on the sand, shaking their heads and wet curls.

You sat down against a tree, downing your water. Chris began talking but Luke wasn't listening. He watched you, and Chris smirked at him.

"Go talk to her."

"What?" he asked, as if it was the craziest thing he's ever heard.

"Go talk to her, man."

"About what?"

"Just talk to her." he shrugged, softly pushing Luke.

"Alright, alright." He said, standing up. and slowly walking towards you. You glanced at him, and he gave you a small smile and sat next to you. You took in a deep breath.

"Hi." He said.

"Hi..."

Now that you were looking at him more closely, he wasn't bad looking, not at all.

"It's uh, y/n, right?"

You nodded. But you knew that he already knew that. "Its Luke, isn't it?"

Holy shit you knew his name. He was trying to contain a smile, his heart raced. He nodded slowly, and you laughed quietly as you noticed him staring at you.

"Well? Did you need something or just my name, gorgeous?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat, and his eyes went wide. Oh my God, you called him gorgeous. He didn't know what to say. You smiled and tilted your head at him, waiting on a response.

"No, sorry." He cleared his throat. "Just... Yeah, I'm gonna go, it was nice talking to you." He said, standing up, and almost tripping as he ran back to Chris.

What an interesting boy, you thought to yourself as you stared at him, and when he turned back you gave him a small smile, a pink tint on his face.

[kwanisms]

Of Hellfire & Saints 01 — k.hongjoong, k.yeosang

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➮ incubus!Hongjoong × fem!Reader wc: 27.2k (in this part. 50.2k total) summary: After the death of the love of her life, Y/N runs away from the village only to be caught in a heavy storm but she manages to find refuge in Hongjoong's hut in the forest. While waiting out the storm, someone knocks on the door, prompting her to answer the door. genres/themes/au: angst, slight fluff, smut; fantasy, horror, supernatural, biblical & demonic; non idol au, historical setting, demon warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, historical period setting (think Puritan or like Salem witch trials but fantasy and with more creative liberty lol), mentions of: alcohol & food consumption, witches & witchcraft, religious text & ideology, harm against animals, pregnancy; attempted SA, major & minor character deaths (heed this warning, i’m not playing around. This shit is DARK), sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

taglists moved to reblogs join my taglists: main | series Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  Send a DM or ask to be removed from my taglist. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.  AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: the word count on this got away from me and so to make it all fit because i really don't want to edit it down, I've split it into two posts. I had really hoped to keep the word count down after what happened with part one but I really could not stop writing. as I said in the author's notes of the first part, read with care and caution. Do NOT ignore the warnings. They are there for a reason, a lot of people die. It’s not fun. It’s gruesome. Also keep in mind that every action has a reason. Now that’s out of the way, please enjoy this sequel and keep an eye out for the next part which will be Seonghwa’s backstory. Thank you so much for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. 

smut warnings: there are multiple scenes in this so I will list the warnings for each one here but all of them involved unprotected sex. You do not do this. Use protection, this is fantasy. SCENE 1: table sex, dirty talk, spitting, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), rough (at times) sex, lowkey love-making, dom!Hongjoong, orgasm denial (f receiving), multiple orgasms (f receiving), mild choking (f receiving), praise (f receiving), cum inside, and that’s it on this one! SCENE 2: dry humping, choking (f receiving), table sex, fingering (f receiving), spitting, praise (f receiving), mild degradation (f receiving), cum inside, and that should be all but as always, let me know if i missed something SCENE 3: virgin!Yeosang, mild dirty talk, praise (m receiving), oral (m receiving), grinding, low-key love making (it’s complicated), mild breeding kink, cum inside, slight hair pulling (m receiving) and that should be all of them!

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Outside the atmosphere was eerie, wind whipping through the trees as lightning flashed overhead, deep rumbles of thunder which shook the ground following the lightning. You didn’t stop to look back as you took off, hearing the door to your house open and your father scream after you.

You didn’t stop once, running for the forest. As you reached the large tree that marked the spot between the clearing of your village and the edge of the forest, remnants of a rope hung from a branch, swaying in the wind.

You could feel your heart break into a million tiny pieces as you stared at the rope. All your hopes, dreams, and plans had been hung with that rope and died just like your lover. You didn’t hesitate any longer, dashing into the trees as another yell of your name came, drowned out as the thunder grew louder.

As you ran through the woods, you could hear the sound of raindrops pelting the trees, hitting the ground and few even hitting the top of your head or your shoulders as you continued to run. At first, you weren’t sure where to go but the answer came to you as Hongjoong’s cabin came into view in the darkness.

The lack of light in the window was a solidification that Hongjoong was gone. You continued on, running over, pushing open the gate and letting it swing shut as you reached the door and pushed it open. You shut the door as the skies truly opened up, rain pouring through the trees as lightning flashed, thunder rolled, and the wind whipped the trees and vegetation.

Once in the safety of the cabin, you moved to start a fire, first lighting a candle that sat on the table. You then moved to the hearth and managed to start a fire and get it going. You knelt on the floor, looking around the now illuminated cabin as the storm raged outside. You knew you couldn’t stay here forever. Eventually they would come for you. You would have to finish packing Hongjoong’s things and leave in the cover of night.

A loud clap of thunder made you jump and your eyes landed on the shelf in front of the door to the hidden crawlspace. Your promise to Hongjoong came to the forefront of your mind. “Tomorrow,” you whispered. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

As you turned back to the fire, three loud knocks rang out from the door and you spun around, staring at the wood. You hadn’t latched the door when you came in and you were regretting that now. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the forest briefly.

Your breathing came out in shallow, ragged breaths as you slowly got up. Another three knocks rang out as thunder cracked the skies overhead. Instead of moving to the door, you moved to the window, peering carefully out the window as another flash of lightning illuminated the garden. You couldn’t see anyone standing beyond the door.

As you pulled back, you started to wonder if maybe you were hearing things. You walked over to the door and hesitantly placed your hand on the wood, taking a few deep breaths. A flash of thunder, followed by another clap of thunder rang out and you sighed, letting out a shaky laugh until three more pounds on the door rattled it in place.

You let out an involuntary scream, jumping back and pulling your hand away. You stared at the wood and in a momentary surge of confidence, you grabbed the knob and threw the door open. You peered outside and saw nothing as the storm raged on. The goats were huddled in their shed and the chickens had returned to their coop.

You glanced around once more before backing into the cabin and shutting the door.

As you made your way back to the fire, another clap of thunder preceded three more loud knocks. Now you were getting annoyed. You crossed the cabin, wrenching the door open only to freeze at the sight of a dark figure standing outside the door.

Your words failed you as you watched the figure sway slowly before they turned. The light coming from the cabin was too dim to see that far out the door but when lightning flashed overhead, you couldn’t contain the gasp that escaped you.

Standing less than five feet from you was Hongjoong. He was covered in what seemed to be blood and caked in mud, soaked from head to toe. He had a far off expression, almost as if he were in some kind of trance. You clapped a hand over your mouth as you stared at him.

After a moment, you pulled your hand away, breathing shakily as your hands trembled.

“H-Hongjoong?” you whispered. This seemed to catch his attention. “Y/N?” he asked, taking a step forward. “What are you doing here?” You stared at him, shocked that he was even standing in front of you.

“I should be asking you that,” you said as he closed the distance, pulling you into a hug against his soaked form. “How did I get here?” he asked softly, his voice breaking. You wrapped your arms around him, noticing his shaking body.

“Come on,” you said softly, pulling back and guiding him inside the cabin, shutting the door behind him. “Let’s get your dried off.” You led him over to the hearth, making him sit down before moving to fetch some dry, clean clothes.

As you moved around, Hongjoong sat still save for his shaking. ‘He must be so cold,’ you thought as you returned to his side. “Why am I covered in dirt?” he asked, looking at his hands which looked to be caked in dirt and mud.

You reached up to start helping him undress. “Let’s get these wet clothes off you,” you murmured. “I’ll get some water to clean you off,” you added, standing up as Hongjoong continued to pull at his clothes. You grabbed the basin from the corner and turned to find Hongjoong standing, his shirt removed.

You let out a gasp and he turned to face you. Your eyes scanned his body, taking in the black vine like pattern that covered a good portion of his torso and arms. He looked down and muttered a curse as you walked over, setting the basin on the table and took his hands, inspecting them. 

You dipped a cloth in the water and tried scrubbing his hands but the dirt didn’t budge. It was then you inspected his hands and the markings a little closer. It looked like it had been burned into his skin. “It’s not dirt,” you whispered. “The skin has been… blackened.”

Hongjoong looked up, a mixture of fear and confusion on his face. “Blackened?” he asked, looking back down. “Burned?” You guided him to sit down, continuing to inspect his skin, wiping away any dirt that you did find. After a couple minutes, you looked up at him, kneeling before him. 

“What do you remember?”

Hongjoong looked down at you. “I…” he trailed off. “I don’t remember anything,” he continued, his voice breaking as he looked down at his hands, tears welling up in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s happened to me!”

You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “Hey, it’s all right,” you said soothingly. “I’m here. Calm down.” He nodded slowly, taking a few deep breaths. “Now, tell me what you do remember.” Hongjoong took one more deep breath before speaking.

“I remember a room without windows. It was small. There was a bed, a bedside table, and a wardrobe. I remember seeing Yeosang and… and you,” he explained. You nodded, taking his hands. “That was the room in the church they had you in,” you replied.

Hongjoong’s brow furrowed in confusion. “They had me? What do you mean?”

You sighed and stood up, pulling a chair over and sat down. “Hongjoong, do you remember the investigation?” you asked. He stared at you unmoving. “Investigation?” he whispered, looking away for a moment before his eyes moved back.

“They were holding me for questioning,” he said suddenly. You nodded. “Yes, exactly. Jonas and Yeosang had you staying in one of the rooms in the church while they questioned you. The villagers blamed you for the problems in the village. Do you recall that?”

Hongjoong nodded. “Yes,” he answered. “It’s all coming back now. I remember their questions and telling them the truth, that it wasn’t me!” he added. You nodded, taking his hand. “Exactly. The villagers didn’t believe you though, despite Yeosang’s insistence you were innocent. They decided you were guilty anyway and they—”

“They dragged me out of the church,” Hongjoong whispered, his eyes on your hands. “They dragged me out of the church and took me to the edge of the forest.” Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. “They’d hung a rope from the tree,” Hongjoong whispered.

He looked up, meeting your gaze. “Did they… kill me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Am I dead?” The tears finally broke past your shield and you nodded, tears spilling onto your cheeks.

“Then… what am I doing here?” he asked, looking around. He reached out to touch the table. “I can feel everything. The table, the floor, your hand,” he explained. His gaze looked up once more. “Do you remember anything else?” you asked.

“I remember darkness. The creak of the rope and then silence. It was so silent. And dark. It was so fucking dark, Y/N. I tried to scream but I couldn’t even hear myself. And then there was this intense, blinding light,” he choked out between sobs.

“And then I fell,” he gasped. “I fell for what felt like an eternity and it was still so dark. The light just disappeared. And then it just… stopped.” Your heart ached as he explained his experience. “That must have been after I died,” he murmured. 

“And then I heard a voice,” he whispered, looking up at you. “Your voice.”

You were caught off guard as you stared at him. “M-my voice?” He nodded.

And then it was gone. Silence again until I felt this pain. This intense, crippling pain. It was like I was being burned, all over my body,” he said and froze. Both your eyes trailed down to the scorch-like vines that littered his arms and torso.

Delicately, you traced one of the lines and looked up at Hongjoong. “Does it hurt?” you asked softly. He shook his head. “No,” he answered. “If anything… I can’t feel it. When you touch the skin, I don’t feel anything.”

You moved your hand, pressing your fingers against his non charred flesh. “What about that?” you asked. “Do you feel that?” Hongjoong nodded, looking down at your fingers. “Yes,” he said softly. Neither one of you said anything for what felt like a long time before he finally cleared his throat.

“I also remember laughter,” he continued in a trembling voice. “Not joyous laughter,” he added. “More maniacal. More… delirious.” You stared up at him as you listened, letting his words process. “And the pain…” his voice trailed off as he choked back a sob.

You pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay,” you said softly. It’s going to be alright,” you whispered. Your dress muffled the sound of his sobs as his body shook. You did your best to calm him, keeping a firm hold on him. You wanted to comfort him the way he always comforted you.

It took a few minutes for Hongjoong’s sobs to finally subside and when they did, you continued to rub his back for comfort. He pulled back, taking a deep breath. “And then,” he started. “It all just stopped.”

You took his face in your hands, wiping his tears away. “I woke up in the dark.” Your brows knit together in confusion. “You… woke up?” you asked, repeating his words. He nodded. “I felt around and all I could feel was wood. I knocked on it and it was hard but there wasn’t an echo.”

“The coffin,” you whispered. ‘At least they had the decency to put his body in a coffin,’ you thought before shaking your head slightly. “What happened after that?” you asked, caressing his cheek. “I summoned a ball of light and could see that I was in a coffin,” he explained. “And then, I don’t know what happened to me but it’s like I suddenly grew stronger.”

“I was able to break through the wood and claw my way through the dirt, pulling myself up out of the mud. And then I just started… walking,” he finished. You watched as he sat back and reached out, placing a hand on his. “I think when I was walking, I blacked out because the next thing I knew, I was standing in the rain and heard your voice.”

You sat unmoving, listening to his story with rapt attention. “And now… I don’t know what to think. Am I dead? Am I alive?” he whispered. You got up, grabbed the rag from the table, and dipped it into the basin. “Let’s worry about the formalities later,” you said as you wrung out the excess water and turned to Hongjoong. “First, let’s get you clean.”

Hongjoong nodded, sitting up as you moved to stand in front of him and took his chin gently in your hand as you carefully started to wipe the dirt, mud, and blood from his face. As your hand moved down, wiping the skin of his neck, your eyes fell on the bruising.

‘From the rope.’

Hongjoong noticed your hesitation and took your hand, pulling it to his face and pressing the back of your hand to his cheek. “You don’t know how much I missed your touch,” he sighed, eyes fluttering shut. You could stop the small smile from forming on your face as you turned your hand, cupping his cheek and forcing him to look up at you.

“No more than I missed yours,” you countered with a chuckle. Hongjoong’s hands moved to your hips, grabbing the material of your dress and pulled you closer, pressing his face into your stomach. “I missed this,” he said, his voice muffled as you combed your fingers through his hair. “I missed being here with you. Being alone together.”

“I missed it too,” you replied, brushing his hair back as he looked up at you. “Promise me you’ll never leave again,” you said softly to which Hongjoong nodded. “I promise, Starlight,” he whispered. Your smile grew and you casually wiped a fleck of mud off his cheek.

“You’ll have to take a bath tomorrow after the storm passes,” you said softly. “At the stream. It should be flooded now with all this rain,” you added, waving your hand as you turned back to the basin. Hongjoong stood, moving to stand behind you.

“Then why don’t we both take one tomorrow,” he suggested, resting his chin on your shoulder. You giggled as his hands slid up your hips to your waist, holding you in place. “I’m not even dirty,” you countered as you wrung out the rag.

You felt Hongjoong press into you from behind, his hard cock pressing against your backside. “That can be rectified,” he whispered in your ear, one hand sliding to your stomach before moving down, pulling up the hem of your skirt. “Hongjoong,” you started, words failing you as his hand dipped under your dress, sliding between your thighs and finding your clit with ease.

A moan escaped past your lips at the feeling and you leaned against the table, keeping your balance by pressing your hands against the wood. “You smell so good,” you heard Hongjoong whisper in your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“Makes me want a taste,” he added, tongue darting out to lick up the side of your neck, making you gasp. His hands moved to your hips, turning you around to face him before smashing his lips against yours, parting your lips with his and allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth, muffling a groan.

Your back pressed against the edge of the table and Hongjoong pulled back to push the basin aside, knocking it and the water to the floor before he lifted you onto the table, pulling your dress up and ducking his head under the skirt.

You let out a moan, head falling back against the wood as his tongue met your clit, tracing around it and dancing over it. Your thighs rested on his shoulders as he licked and sucked at the sensitive bundle of nerves, making your back arch as you moaned loudly, unrestrained.

You felt his nails dig into the plush flesh of your thighs as he continued to lick and suck. You reached down, fingers knotting into his hair as he shook his head and before you could fall over the edge, he pulled back, inspecting his work.

You tried to protest but felt two fingers enter you slowly, a slight sting to the stretch that was quickly replaced with a dull ache. He moved, pumping his fingers in and out of you, slowly speeding up as his tongue returned to your clit, flicking against it rapidly.

Your orgasm came hurtling towards you, crashing over you quickly and making your legs shake as you chanted his name in quick succession. When the aftershocks of your orgasm subsided, Hongjoong pulled back, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand as he stood. He leaned over you, pulling you into a messy, passionate kiss as he started to undo your dress and peel it from your body.

Your own hands moved to his pants, undoing the ties and letting them fall as he pulled the last of your clothes off. He left a trail of light kisses down your neck, stopping to nip at your collar before taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Tongue swirling around it as he kneaded the other with his hand. You ran your fingers through his hair as he lifted his head, his heated gaze sending a fresh wave of arousal throughout your body.

As if he could smell it, Hongjoong pulled back, looking down at your wet sex. He spread your folds with his thumbs and groaned at the sight. “Such a pretty pussy,” he murmured. “I missed this cunt so much,” he added. You let out a whine, wiggling your hips in a silent plea for him to fill you up with his cock.

“Is my Starlight impatient?” he cooed, looking up at you, giving you a smirk. You nodded, letting out another whine in an attempt to entice him. Hongjoong looked back down and you watched as he let a drop of saliva fall onto your sex. He took his cock in his hand and rubbed against your clit, gathering as much of your slick and his spit and coating the head of his cock.

He guided the head to your aching hole and looked up, meeting your gaze as he pushed into you, lips parting in a silent moan as his eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the sensation of your warm walls enveloping him.

“Fuck,” he cursed as he slid in, unrestrained, until his hips were flush with your ass. He repositioned your thighs, pushing them further apart and against your sides, allowing him to slip in just a little further. You let out a groan, feeling completely full of nothing but his cock.

“God I missed this,” he gasped, looking down where your bodies connected. He pulled back slowly, watching his cock reappear before slowly pushing back into you, letting out a moan. He repeated this, setting a very slow pace. It wasn’t enough to satisfy, just enough to keep you both on the edge.

You tried to meet his movements but he held you firmly in place. “I’m in control here, Starlight,” he said, his voice low. You looked up at him, eyes pleading. “Please, Hongjoong,” you whispered. “Please fuck me.” Hongjoong let out a groan, moving your legs to wrap around his waist before he pulled you up into a sitting position. “Hold onto me,” he murmured.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and he easily lifted you off the table, carrying you over to the bed where you both fell, his cock never leaving you. Once you were on your back on the mattress, he resumed his movements, thrusting hard but slow into you, making you gasp with each thrust.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” he murmured as he continued to rock into you. “I did that last time,” he added. “This time, I’m going to do what I should have done for your first time and make love to you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he continued his rough thrusts but kept the pace slow, taking his time drawing it out for as long as he could. It was enough to keep your orgasm building but it was a slow build. You were growing impatient but didn’t say anything, not when it felt so good.

Hongjoong gave you a few more thrusts before he rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him and taking your hands. “Ride me,” he whispered. You hesitated, looking down at him. Of all the times you and Hongjoong had been sexually intimate, you’d never been on top, he’d always been in control and on top of you, regardless if you were on your back or your stomach.

“I’ve never…” you trailed off as he placed your hands on his chest, taking your hips in his and slowly lifted you. “Now back down,” he said softly, guiding you to sink back down, his cock sliding into you once more. “That’s right,” he whispered, helping you lift your hips.

“Now you control the speed,” he added. “Lean forward a little,” he added, moving one hand to the middle of your back and pressing forward. You followed his guidance, leaning forward slightly and moving your hands to the mattress, placing them on either side of his head as you raised and lowered your hips.

Each time you came back down on him, his cock fit snugly inside you, reaching deep. “You can go faster than that,” Hongjoong urged, reaching up to pull you against his chest before taking your hips and guiding your movements.

He thrust up to meet your movements, the sound of skin against skin filling the room along with the wet sound of his cock plunging into your cunt repeatedly. “Oh f-” you gasped, hiding your face in his neck. “I’m gonna—” your words were cut off by Hongjoong lifting your hips, ripping your orgasm away from you.

“Hongjoong!” you whined as he sat up, pushing you onto the bed beside him and bending you over. He entered you from behind, setting the same pace as before, pounding into you from behind. “Oh fuck,” you cried out, burying your face into the sheets. You felt Hongjoong’s grip on your hip lessen before a sharp smack rang out, your ass stinging.

He ran his hand over the spot soothingly. You clenched around him as he landed another blow to the other side and moaned loudly into the mattress. Hongjoong leaned forward, pushing you down against the mattress as he pinned you down with his weight.

He rolled his hips, driving his cock deep into you. You let out a scream of pleasure into the pillows, prompting him to wrap a hand around the front of your neck and pull your head up. “Let me hear that again,” he panted into your ear, rolling his hips once more. You tried to hold back, letting out a strained groan instead.

“Oh, we can’t have that,” Hongjoong said, thrusting into you harshly. A scream ripped from the back of your throat, filling the cabin. “I’ve never made you scream before,” he said as he rolled his hips, enjoying the way you moaned loudly, clenching hard around his cock.

“Have I, Starlight?”

You shook your head, letting out another scream when he thrust into you again. “Does it feel good?” he asked, resuming the same pace from before, pounding into you, keeping a firm hold on you as his hand moved from your throat to cup your chin and jaw.

“Does it feel good when I do that?” he asked again, punctuating his question with another harsh thrust, making you choke on a scream. “When I fuck you like this?” Words failed you as he continued to slam into you, the only sound you could make were moans and the occasional cry of pleasure.

“Feel’s so good,” Hongjoong grunted into your ear. He moved his hand to the back of your head, pushing your head down onto the side as he picked up the pace, slamming into you at a brutal pace, the sound of his hips hitting your ass drowning out your small whimpers and whines. It was rough. Rougher than he’d been before but it felt so good.

He suddenly slowed his pace, rolling his hips slowly to prolong your pleasure. “You still with me, Starlight?” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. You nodded weakly. Hongjoong pulled back, pulling out of you and carefully rolled you onto your back. He slotted himself between your thighs, slipping back into you and slowly thrusting into you.

“Look at me,” he murmured and you wearily opened your eyes, his smile greeting you. “There’s my girl,” he said, cupping your cheek. His thrusts picked up in speed, angled and precise as he tried to get you back up to the edge.

“Come on darling,” he whispered, thumb brushing over your cheek and down to your lips. “Open up for me,” he added softly. You parted your lips and moaned as he spit into your mouth. He resumed a quicker pace, thrusting into you, each movement making your already weak body bounce.

“You going to cum for me?” he whispered. “Gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock?” he asked. You nodded weakly, whimpering as your orgasm started to build. Hongjoong’s hand snaked between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbed circles around it quickly.

“That’s it,” he panted, his thrusts growing more erratic and less precise as he tried to get you to fall over the edge first. “That’s it, come on,” he groaned. Your back arched off the bed, your orgasm hitting you in waves, your body shuddering as your thighs shook, a mantra of moans mixed with his name leaving your lips. 

Hongjoong was quick to follow, burying his face in your neck as he let out a low moan, thrusting weakly into you as he came. His hot seed filled you and some of it even started to spill out as his cock continued to twitch until at last, he stopped thrusting.

You both laid there for several minutes, panting and covered in sweat until Hongjoong finally pulled out of and rolled off of you, falling onto the bed next to you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt him start to stir and you fell into a deep slumber.

You woke the next morning in a daze. The storm had mostly passed during the night but it was still raining, drops falling softly onto the roof and hitting the glass panes of the windows. You sat up, groggily, and let out a moan of discomfort as a dull ache settled between your thighs.

Looking around, you noticed the cabin was empty. You glanced to the table where the chairs looked like they hadn’t been moved. The floor was clear of water and the basin was sitting in its frame in the corner, the rag hanging on the hook beside it.

You checked the floor and saw your clothes had been moved, folded neatly and sitting on the trunk that sat under the front window of the cabin by the door. Hongjoong’s clothes, and his being for that matter, were nowhere to be seen.

You scratched your head, looking around, wondering if last night had been nothing more than a strange dream. You let out an exasperated sigh and fell back against the bed, staring up at the underside of the roof as you wracked your brain, trying to remember anything other than the feeling of Hongjoong’s weight on top of you or the intense pleasure you were certain you felt last night.

‘What if it was merely a dream?’ you wondered, moving your hand to brush your fingertips over your lips. ‘What if Hongjoong wasn’t here and I just dreamt the entire thing?’ A sadness started welling up in your chest as you lay there, fighting the urge to cry as you remembered what transpired the night before you came to the cabin.

After the fight with your father, you couldn’t go back to the village. But you couldn’t stay here. You sat up and looked around once more, eyes falling on the shelf that covered the hidden panel. “The box,” you whispered. You hadn’t done it last night because of the storm but you could do it today. ‘Yes,’ you said to yourself.

“I’ll get dressed, make a quick breakfast and pack,” you whispered, glancing over to where your clothes sat. “Just the essentials so I can leave this place. Sooner or later, someone will come looking for me.”

Before you could move, another thought hit you and a fresh wave of sadness washed over you. 

‘Yeosang…’

You wondered if you would ever see the priest again but you were almost certain that you would not. Not once you left everything behind to start a new life somewhere far, far away from the village. You would miss aspects of your life near the forest but you couldn’t go back. Not now. Not after everything that had happened.

As you started to move, the front door latch turned, opening the door and you looked up, eyes wide as Hongjoong entered the cabin, carrying what looked like a basket. He was dressed, not in the clothes you had dreamt him in last night, but in some clean ones. He lowered his hood and turned, a smile gracing his face as he saw you sitting up in bed.

“You’re awake!” he said, his voice cheerful as he walked over to the table, setting the basket down. He removed his cloak, draping it over the back of one of the chairs and turned, crossing the distance to where you sat on the bed, sheets pulled up to cover your chest as you watched him, wide-eyed.

“I went to fetch some eggs,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed, reaching up to caress your cheek. “I thought some breakfast might be nice,” he added, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “I’ve also got some bacon. We could have that too, if you’d like?” You nodded wordlessly as he spoke. Hongjoong’s smile widened as he leaned in again, kissing you once more.

“Would you like to help me?” he whispered, lips brushing against yours. You nodded again. “Y-yes,” you stuttered, your throat going dry. Hongjoong bumped the tip of his nose against yours and pulled back. “Then get up, Starlight. Put some clothes on.”

He got up and headed back over to the table, leaving you breathless on the bed as your thoughts swirled about in your mind. ‘He’s… alive. So I wasn’t dreaming?’ You sat motionless on the bed, staring at Hongjoong, watching as he bustled about, setting a spider skillet over the fire and letting it heat up.

You moved slowly and carefully, crawling across the bed to grab your clothes from the trunk. Hongjoong used a small amount of what looked to be lard to grease the skillet and looked up as you returned to your spot, sheets still covering your chest as you unfolded your clothes. He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head.

“You know you don’t have to hide your body from me,” he said softly, drawing your attention. “I’ve seen everything,” he reminded you as he returned his gaze to the fire and resumed his work. “Multiple times.” Your cheeks burned and you let the sheets drop to your lap, picking your chemise back up and unfolding it. You pulled it on over your head before getting out of the bed.

Hongjoong watched you from where he was perched by the fire, waiting for the skillet to heat up. His eyes followed your every movement as you dressed in silence, pulling your dress on and making sure all the buttons were done up properly before you turned around to face him.

“What can I help with?” you asked, snapping him out of a sort of trance. He looked back at the fire before looking up. “Could you grab the bacon for me?” he asked. “It should be in the barrel over there,” he added, nodding in the direction of a barrel that stood in the front corner of the cabin.

You crossed the distance and pried open the barrel, finding what he was looking for and returned the lid, sealing the barrel before moving over to the hearth. You knelt down, letting out a whine as you reached his level. Hongjoong raised his gaze, a look of concern on his face as you handed him the bacon. “Are you alright, Starlight?” he asked, taking the package in one hand and taking your chin in the other.

“I’m okay,” you replied. “Just sore.” A look of realization passed over Hongjoong’s face before a smirk took its place. “I see,” he murmured. “Sorry about that, my love.” He pulled you in for a kiss before pulling away and turning to start placing strips of bacon in the skillet. “You just rest while I cook, alright?” he said, to which you shook your head.

“Really, I’m all right,” you insisted. “I can help you.” Hongjoong smiled as he added another slice of bacon which started to sizzle the moment it touched the hot pan. “If you insist,” he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You glanced down, noticing his hands and grabbed one, pulling it up to inspect. Hongjoong smiled, watching you turn his hand over and pull the cuff of his sleeve up to inspect his mysteriously clear skin. You were positive the night before his skin was charred, blackened and that it extended up his arms in swirling, vine-like patterns across his torso.

“I was surprised, too,” he admitted. “I woke up and it was gone. All the scorch marks. None of it remained.” You looked up to meet his gaze. “I thought I dreamt last night,” you whispered, tears threatening to well up in your eyes. Hongjoong caressed your cheek. “Oh, Starlight,” he said softly. 

“When I woke up, you were gone and the basin had been picked up and your clothes were gone,” you continued. “I thought last night had been some cruel dream, reminding me of what happened last night,” you said, a sob escaping you. Hongjoong pulled you into a tight embrace, his warmth surrounding you. “I’m right here, Starlight,” he whispered. “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t know what happened to me,” he added. “But I’m here and that’s all that matters.”

You nodded, burying your face in his chest as you clung to him, fingers digging into the cloth of his shirt. “I’m not letting you go this time,” you whispered. Hongjoong chuckled, the motion making your body bouncy slightly. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said softly. “I don’t intend to go anywhere without you ever again.”

After a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and some bread, you set about helping Hongjoong clear things up. Hongjoong had set the dishes aside to be washed and while you were busy washing them in a pan of hot water and soap, Hongjoong brought the last piece, the spider skillet over now that it was cool to handle.

He stood beside you as you washed, grabbing a rag. “Let me help,” he said, moving to grab the already washed dishes. “That way we can finish quickly and maybe go for a walk or something,” he said with a smile. “Maybe go see the wildflower field?”

You worked mostly in silence except for Hongjoong’s occasional humming until you set aside the last dish which he picked up to dry. “Shall we put these away?” you asked, drying your hands as you turned to look at him. He nodded wordlessly, still humming as the two of you grabbed the now clean dishes to put away.

Hongjoong put them away while you wiped down the table. As you were working, you felt him sneak up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he peppered kisses up the side of your neck, making you giggle.

“That tickles,” you giggled, trying to pull away but he held you firmly in place. You felt his nose brush against the spot just under your ear and heard him breath in deeply. “You smell really, really good,” he murmured. You tried to turn in his hold but he was too strong.

“Hongjoong,” you started but let out a moan the next second as you felt his teeth graze against the skin of your neck. “Makes me want another taste,” he added, pressing you against the table as he grinded against you.

You steadied yourself, pressing your hands against the table and let out another shaky moan as he rolled his hips again. “H-Hongjoong,” you gasped, his hands gripping your skirt tightly as he continued to grind into your backside. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he could draw out your arousal and how easily your body gave in and responded to him.

Hongjoong let out a growl, one hand wrapping around the front of your throat, holding you back against him tightly. “I really can’t wait,” he growled into your ear. “Please, can I take you right here?” You nodded with a whimper, your hands moving to help him pull your skirt up. Once he had it up, his free hand slipped between your thighs, fingertips gathering your wetness and spreading your lips to find your clit.

From this angle, it was a much different experience as his fingers sank into your heat, your walls welcoming the intrusion without hesitation. “Fuck, you’re so warm,” he groaned, pumping his fingers in and out of you with ease as your arousal started to drip down the inside of your thighs. You let out a moan, head dropping as your hands caught you before you fell to the table.

Hongjoong removed his fingers from your cunt, instead moving to untie his pants and push them down just enough to free his cock. He brought the same hand that had been inside you to your mouth. “Spit,” he ordered. You did as he said, spitting into his hand which he then used to coat the shaft of his cock before taking it and aligning the head with your slit, gathering your juices with the tip before pushing into you.

You let out an unrestrained moan as he slid into you, bottoming out rather quickly. He released your throat, gently pushing you down until your chest rested against the table. He hiked the rest of your skirt up, exposing your backside to him as he grabbed your hips and started a slow, steady pace, thrusting into you carefully, watching his cock disappear into you.

Your hands moved, grabbing into the edge of the table as he increased speed, watching your cunt swallow him greedily. The steady pants you’d been releasing soon turned into wanton moans as he rocked into you, each thrust hard and deep.

“F-fuck,” he hissed, leaning forward as he continued his assault on your core, the sound of his skin hitting yours with each powerful thrust. “So fucking good,” he growled. “You take my cock like you were made for it, sweetheart.” You let out a whimper as you felt his nails dig into your skin. “So soft, pliant, and vulnerable,” you heard him whisper. “And entirely mine.”

You cried out as he thrust harder. “Does that feel good?” he cooed, a slight hint of condescension to his voice. You’d never heard him like that before. “You like it when I bend you over and fuck you like this?” he asked. His voice sounded… off. Almost like it wasn’t just him speaking but another voice was speaking with him.

“When I fuck you like a whore?”

You gasped, eyes snapping open and you tried to push yourself up but he stopped you. “What’s the matter, little lamb?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Don’t like being called that? You didn’t seem to mind when I called you a bitch in heat,” he continued.

“Or should I call you my whore?” he whispered. “Is that what does it for you? Being possessed?”

Your body succumbed to him, walls fluttering around him as you came with a moan. Hongjoong continued, hips never faltering as he pounded into you. It only took a few more minutes before he finally came with a growl, hips stuttering as he released into you, cum filling your cunt and spilling past his cock to drip to the floor and seep down the inside of your thighs.

You’d never known him to cum that much before. It was almost inhuman. As you both came down from your respective highs, Hongjoong littered kisses along the back of your neck, murmuring praise and apologies for what he’d said in the heat of the moment.

“I’m so sorry, Starlight,” he whispered into your ear. “That was too far.” While you agreed with him, you shook your head. “It’s alright,” you whispered back, not wanting to further upset yourself or the moment. You could always talk to him later about it, knowing he would listen to you no matter what.

After cleaning up again, you assisted Hongjoong with his chores for the rest of the morning, having a quick lunch and then going back to work. 

The meadow would have to wait.

A week passed by and you were surprised that no one came looking for you but in the same vein, you were also glad no one had sought you out. Not because you feared being dragged back but because you feared what might happen to Hongjoong if someone were to learn he was alive again.

You’d tried in vain to persuade him to pack up the cabin and leave. He had said if no one came looking for you after a week, perhaps it was a sign the two of you could live in the forest, undisturbed, and build your life together there.

As your time with Hongjoong increased, so did his sexual appetite. Every morning, as soon as you were both awake, he had his mouth and hands on you, bringing you to orgasm after orgasm before finally sliding into you. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you. Each time, he grew more and more rough and sometimes mean but afterwards, he always showered you in affection and attention, apologizing for taking things too far.

While it was certainly a change in personality, it only seemed to be present when you had sex. Otherwise, he was just as normal as ever. He was his usual sweet, doting, cheerful self, making you laugh and kissing your face until you giggled.

You had nothing to compare it to but for the few minutes he was rougher, it was merely a blip in the relationship you had outside of sex. Perhaps this was just one of the changes his brush with death had created.

How wrong you would come to be.

As you woke one morning, more than a week since Hongjoong’s return, you rolled over, reaching for Hongjoong, only to find his spot on the bed empty. Your eyes fluttered open and you half expected to see him standing by the table or crouched by the hearth. He wasn’t in either place. You gathered the sheets and sat up, glancing around the cabin and found no sign of him.

You got up, dressing quickly, and pulled on your boots. Once dressed, you opened the cabin door and peered out into the garden but found it empty except for the goats. You stepped out, letting the door shut behind you as you wandered out, looking around the forest.

You still saw no sign of Hongjoong and decided to check the stream which was where you usually collected water. The forest was alive, sunlight filtering through the trees to dance on the forest floor in patches of light.

Birds chirped and chittered happily as you made your way to the stream, following the path that led from Hongjoong’s place to the stream and beyond, running deeper into the forest. You’d only ever taken this path to the stream but never ventured further so you weren’t sure where it led or what was deeper into the darkest reaches of the forest.

As you neared the stream, noticing the trees thinning out a little, you caught sight of a figure kneeling at the water’s edge and smiled as you recognized Hongjoong’s mess of dark hair. You quickened your pace with a skip and rounded the bend in the path, smile widening as he came into view.

“There you are!” you called, noticing he didn’t even flinch when you spoke. As you drew closer, the sounds of the forest started to wane, birds in trees nearby took flight in squawks that sounded like cries of fear as they flew overhead and away from the area.

You noticed how the forest grew darker, like clouds blotting out the sun and the wind picked up, blowing the hem of your skirt around but still you continued forward. These were merely natural occurrences. The birds probably flew because you walked into the area, twigs breaking under your feet and startling them.

Clouds moved over the sun all the time and the wind often accompanied the movement of clouds. There was nothing sinister or otherworldly about it. You drew closer to Hongjoong, a new determination in your step as you walked over the dirt.

“Hongjoong?” you called, the forest around you now silent except for the wind.

“Stay back,” you heard him say. His voice sounded different again. Not unlike how he sounded the morning after his return but the second, deeper voice, was much… stronger this time. Something was definitely wrong.

“Joong?” you asked, moving even closer. “I said stay back!” he shouted, causing you to freeze momentarily. He really did not sound like his normal self but it only strengthened your resolve to see what was going on and if he was okay.

You ignored his warning as well as the warning in your own gut as you finally reached where he was crouched. “Hongjoong, are you feeling well?” you asked, leaning down to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

The moment your hand touched his shoulder, you pulled back, almost as though you’d been burned. He pulled away, turning so you couldn’t see him. “I said stay back,” he repeated. You could barely hear his voice, the deeper voice was more dominant.

You let out a huff and tried again, this time, grabbing him by the shoulder and attempting to turn him to face you. This time, you didn’t feel as though you’d been burned but Hongjoong reacted in a way you weren’t expecting.

He lashed out, throwing his arm back and pushing you to the ground. “LEAVE ME,” he growled, his voice sounding much deeper. Much more… demonic. You gasped as he looked over his shoulder at you. His face had changed. His eyes were no longer the dark, warm brown but instead two different irises full of fire looked back at you, surrounded by black.

Two small horns had poke through the surface of his skin just where his hairline started, the skin around them looked irritated and red, almost like a wound. The black marks that had covered his skin when he first returned were back, hands blackened but now the marks extended up his neck to his face.

You scooted back a couple paces, staring at him in shock and horror. As you stared at one another in the silent forest, you finally took a deep breath and got to your feet, watching as Hongjoong mimicked you, getting to his feet slowly. You took a step forward. 

“Hongjoong?” you asked as he turned to face you fully. He tilted his head to the side with a sickening crack. “Hongjoong?” he repeated in that same devilish voice, almost as if he was taunting you. A shiver ran up your spine but you chose once again to ignore the alarm bell in your own mind. That wasn’t important right now. All that mattered was making sure Hongjoong was okay.

“What happened to you?” you asked, taking another step forward. Hongjoong didn’t move as you continued, stopping a few paces from him and started to circle him, checking over his body to make sure he wasn’t injured. When you had put him between you and the stream, he moved. It was much too quickly for you to see but he turned at once to face you, standing up straight. You jumped and let out a squeak of surprise.

“Are you all—”

You couldn’t finish your question as he quickly had crossed the distance between you and you felt your back hit a tree, forcing a sound of pain from you as he pinned you against it, his hand closing around your throat. This was a huge contrast from the way his hand would go around your throat during sex. He was actually squeezing, cutting off your air supply.

You fought against him, trying to pull his hand away. “Please,” you whispered breathlessly. “I can’t breathe. Hongjoong,” you choked out. When you said his name, it snapped him out of it and he immediately let go of your throat, taking a step back.

You crumbled to the base of the tree, coughing as you reached up to massage your neck. When you looked back up, Hongjoong’s eyes had shifted back to normal, the same warm brown but they looked panicked, scared even.

He looked down at his hands, looking at his change in form. The blackened skin, the nails that had sharpened into claws at the tips of his fingers. He looked back up at you. “Y/N,” he whispered. “I’m so…” he trailed off, looking around the forest. “How did I get here?” he asked, his voice soft and full of fear. His gaze returned to you as you stood up, noticing the irritated skin of your neck.

“Oh g— did I do that?” he asked, tears welling up in his eyes. You tried to dismiss his concern, insisting you were fine but he wasn’t hearing it. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said, running his fingers through his hair and stopping when he felt the small horns on his forehead.

“What is happening to me?” he whispered, fingers gripping his hair as he stumbled backwards, boots splashing in the stream waters. You stepped forward but he held a hand out. “No!” he shouted, his voice normal but echoing around the forest. “Don’t come any closer. You need to leave. I can’t…” he trailed off, eyes falling to your neck again.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he said, his voice full of anguish. Before you could say anything, he turned and took off, much faster than you could see and suddenly, you were standing alone in the forest. You reached up to massage your neck again, wincing at the tenderness.

You had no idea which way Hongjoong had gone or even how far he’d gone so instead of attempting to follow him, you decided to return to the cabin, hoping at some point he’d come back. The walk back seemed to take ages and you were just returning as the sun set and you wondered if maybe you’d wandered aimlessly before finally reaching the cabin because how could you leave in the morning and return so late?

You pushed open the gate and stopped to feed the goats before heading inside, shutting the door behind you. You sat in one of the chairs at the table, staring at the wood in a sort of semi-conscious state before you shook yourself mentally.

You decided to make some tea and wait for Hongjoong to return. If he didn’t return that night, maybe he would come back the next morning. You poured the tea into a mug and let it steep for a while before finally taking a sip, letting out a sigh afterwards.

The sound of distant thunder made you look up, worried that Hongjoong was out in the forest on his own with the threat of a storm looming in the distance. “He’ll be okay,” you whispered to yourself. “He’ll be back and we’ll make up and be okay. It’s going to be fine.”

You weren’t sure how much time passed but you heard the front gate open and turned in your seat as the front door opened. Hongjoong appeared, his appearance had mostly gone back to normal, save for the horns and his hands.

He looked up as he entered, looking shocked to find you sitting at the table.

“Why did you come back?” he asked as he shut the door and moved over to the fire, kneeling to add more logs. You stared at the back of his head, looking incredulous. “Why did I come back?” you repeated his words. “Because I love you! Why wouldn’t I come back?”

Hongjoong winced slightly. “You should have left,” he whispered. You stared at him, appalled that he would even suggest you running away or abandoning him. “And go where?” you asked, attempting to conceal the hurt in your voice.

“Anywhere but here,” Hongjoong replied, his voice sounding flat and lifeless.

You froze, the room growing silent except for the crackling of the fire. After a few moments, you got up and walked over behind him, kneeling down and wrapping your arms around him. Hongjoong didn’t fight it, instead accepted the gesture and gently grabbed your arm, leaning his head into yours that rested on his shoulder.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the fire. “I don’t know either,” you replied. “But we’re going to face it and figure it out,” you continued, turning him to look at you. “Together,” you added. “Why?” Hongjoong asked, eyeing your neck, a fresh wave of sadness and disappointment crossing his face.

“After what I did, why would you stay?”

You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Because I love you, damn it,” you replied. “I’m not giving up on you. I never did before so why would I now?”

Hongjoong’s eyes flickered between yours before dipping down to your lips briefly. You leaned in, granting him his silent wish, pressing your lips to his. He leaned into the kiss, wrapping an arm around your back as he laid you down on the floor of the cabin, in front of the fire.

“I love you so much,” you muttered against his lips, pulling back to look at him, your thumb brushing over his lips. He leaned into your touch, eyes shut as he sighed. He leaned down, capturing your lips in another kiss, his lips parting yours and tongue slipping past into your mouth. As the kiss grew in passion, his hands started to move, pulling your skirt up.

Under any other circumstance, you would give in easily because you loved it when he made love to you but right now was not the right time. “Hongjoong,” you said as he left a trail of wet kisses down your neck. “Stop.”

He didn’t seem to hear you so you cleared your throat and tried again. “Hongjoong, stop it,” you repeated, moving to grab his hands only for him to snatch you by the wrists and pin them down above your head with one hand. He went back to pulling the hem of your skirt up as you fought against him but his strength was shocking and you’d never noticed how strong he had become.

Finally you couldn’t stop the scream that erupted from you. “I said stop!”

Your voice snapped him out of it and he immediately pulled away, scooting back as you pulled yourself away, watching as he stood up and turned away from you. “You need to leave,” you heard him say, his voice wavering.

You started to pull yourself up. “Hongjoong?” you called, taking a hesitant step forward, the exchange in the forest earlier coming to mind. “I can’t control it anymore,” he whispered. “What are you saying?” you whispered. “You need to run before I…” Hongjoong trailed off.

You froze as he turned his head slowly, his brown eyes replaced with the same demon-like eyes, fiery red irises shrouded in black. The scorch marks returned to the skin of his neck, extending up onto his face. His lips parted in a devilish grin, exposing his now sharpened teeth.

You backed away, bumping into the table with a dull thud as you shook your head in disbelief. Terror filled your chest as he stared back at you with a taunting gaze. “H-Hongjoong?” you stammered, heart pounding in your chest. Every nerve in your body was firing off, hair standing on end as he turned fully to face you.

He’d changed again and something told you that this time, he wouldn’t be reverting back. He took a step forward, still watching you with those unnerving eyes. You were trapped between him and the table, your only form of escape being the door on the other side of the table,

You glanced back at it, finding it unlatched and unlocked. You looked back at Hongjoong, gasping as he seemed to grow in stature with the absence of your gaze. He now towered over you. “Poor little Y/N,” he said, the voice coming out of him not his. There wasn’t even a trace of his voice left. It was whatever had taken control of him.

“All alone in the forest with the big, bad, wolf,” the voice coming from Hongjoong continued.

“You should run,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice, as if this was funny to him.

“Run little Lamb,” he continued, narrowing his eyes. “Run.”

He lunged for you and you grabbed the mug of hot tea, splashing it at him and hitting him square in the face. Hongjoong let out an inhuman screech, hands moving to cover his face as he backed away, giving you a chance to round the table and make for the door.

He let out a roar behind you as you opened the door, slamming it shut and rushing for the gate. The goats were bleating in fear as they ran around the garden, chickens clucking and squawking from the coop. You pushed the gate open and ran out onto the forest path.

Knowing it would take too long to follow the path, you started off it, picking up your skirt and jumping over fallen logs and branches as you ran away from the cabin in the direction of the village.

The sound of wood splintering rang out as Hongjoong undoubtedly broke through the door. Another roar rang out, sending chills up your spine as you picked up the pace, not pausing to look behind you. Heavy footfalls sounded behind you and you knew he had given chase.

You hurtled over fallen trees and branches, skipping over boulders as you ran for the edge of the forest, hoping for some reason he might not follow you into the village. It was a long shot but it might be worth it.

Yeosang had spent the last week taking up the task of patrolling the village at night, agreeing to do so after learning you had run away into the forest. He’d been too late to save Hongjoong, reaching the edge of the forest where the men had strung him from the tree branch. It was a sight he could not stomach and had violently gotten sick.

In the aftermath, he had hoped he might be able to save you but when he arrived at your parents’ home and learned of the fight and that you had nearly stabbed your father in what they called a fit of unchecked rage, Yeosang leapt at the chance to keep an eye out for you.

He knew that the mark in the floor from one of your mother’s knitting needles had been your intent. Regardless of the vile acts your father had carried out, he knew you were not capable of killing anyone. Your father was a twisted man but you… you were not. 

You were just hurt, feeling the pain of betrayal as was Yeosang. He felt as if he might as well have been strung up like Hongjoong and had his own life choked out of him for failing in the one task he’d promised to you. He was as much to blame as your father and the rest of the village was. He’d contributed to the breaking of your heart that night, too.

Despite being told numerous times to give up and not expect you to return, like a fool he was still outside, patrolling with a lantern for most of the night, hoping that you might show up so he could tell you how sorry he was. Wishing for one moment to apologize and tell you that you had every right to hate him as he already hated himself.

As he reached the forest during his pacing for what felt like the hundredth time, he heard a sound. Almost like a distant roar. He looked at the sky, watching and waiting for any sign of a storm but saw none. The sky was clear with very few clouds, stars glittering overhead.

He listened for a little longer before deciding it was just his imagination and started to turn away when a scream also rang out from the distance. He turned instantly, wide eyes scanning the trees. It sounded like a female scream.

As he turned back around and watched the forest, he heard the sound of twigs snapping and another scream rang out, this time much closer and clearer. Yeosang took a few steps forward, letting out a soft gasp when a figure emerged from the woods, stumbling over their own feet. As they moved into the light of the many torches that had been set up after you left he realized who it was.

“Y/N?” he called out, rushing forward to meet you. You were sobbing, your dress covered in dirt as you stumbled forward. Yeosang closed the distance, dropping his lantern and you collapsed, managing to catch you at the last second and you erupted into anguished sobs that bordered on wails.

He glanced up, eyes widening as he caught sight of something standing at the edge of the forest. Something tall and dark. It slowly retreated back into the forest until he couldn’t see it anymore.

A nearby door opened and one of the villagers appeared in their night dress. Yeosang looked up. “Go get Y/F/N. And Jonas!” he shouted. “Now!” Yeosang returned his attention to you as more people came out to see what the commotion was. Yeosang gently rocked you, shushing you as you continued to sob heavily.

“What happened?” a voice whispered. “I don’t know. I just came out and they were like this,” another said. “Where did she even come from?”

Yeosang tried to drown out the gossip and turned to one of the women who had come to offer their assistance. “Take her to her father’s house,” he ordered. “I’m going into the forest,” he explained. At this you pulled back, grabbing the front of his coat and shook your head violently. “No!” you shouted. “You can’t! D-don’t go in there! It’s n-not safe!”

Yeosang took your face in his hands and shushed you again, gently. “It’s alright, Y/N,” he said softly. “I’m just going to see—” you shook your head, cutting him off with incoherent babbles. Yeosang finally relented, seeing the true fear in your face. “Okay,” he relented as you started to hyperventilate. “I won’t go in. I promise,” he said quickly.

“Here,” he started, carefully getting up. “Let’s get you inside where it’s warm.” He guided you away from the crowd that had formed and to your parents’ house. The door opened as he approached and the look of anger on your mother’s face vanished instantly upon seeing the state you were in. “I can take her to the church if you would prefer,” Yeosang said softly as your father appeared behind your mother.

“No,” he said, a look of concern crossing his face as they both backed up. “Bring her in here,” he added. Yeosang guided you inside, keeping a firm but steady arm around your back. “What happened?” your father asked as your mother led Yeosang to the stairs.

“I don’t know,” Yeosang answered as they started to climb the steps. He followed your mother up to your room leading you in and carefully sitting you down on the bed. “Y/N,” he said calmly, taking your hands in his. “You’re safe,” he said as your mother and father looked on from the doorway. “You’re home and you’re safe.”

Your sobs had subsided into small hiccups as you stared blankly at him, not really seeing him. You had this far off look on your face. Yeosang stood, trying to pull away but your grip on him tightened and a new wave of hysteria washed over you. He quickly knelt in front of you again. “I’m going to step outside the room while your mother helps you change and puts you to bed,” he explained. You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Don’t abandon me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible enough for him to hear. He took your hands again. “I won’t,” he whispered. “I’m not going to leave. I just can’t be in here while your mother undresses you,” he explained, glancing over at your mother who crossed the room, taking a seat beside you and wrapping an arm around you.

“I will be downstairs,” Yeosang said. “I promise.” Your grip lessened as he stood up and pulled away. Your mother started doting on you as he reached the door and stepped out into the hall with your father, sighing as he shut the door. “What happened?” your father asked. Yeosang shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know,” he replied.

“I don’t have any answers. I was out patrolling when I heard a scream and the next thing I knew, she was sprinting out of the woods and collapsed into my arms as I reached her. She was sobbing, wailing like someone had been murdered right in front of her.”

Yeosang noticed the shift in your father’s body language but he continued on. “She could barely form a sentence. I figured I’d just bring her here and if you didn’t want her back, I’d take her to the church,” he explained. Your father nodded. “I’m not entirely thrilled to have her back after what she did but you were right to bring her here,” your father said softly.

“Her mother and I will keep an eye on her,” he continued as he led Yeosang down the stairs. “I would like to come visit her during the day, if that’s alright,” Yeosang said as they reached the door. Your father hesitated before nodding. “Yes, of course,” he replied. “Thank you Pastor Kang.” Yeosang nodded and reached for the door but as he turned the knob, your father pushed the door shut.

“Since she’s back,” your father started in a hushed tone. “And with everything that’s happened, I don’t think anyone would blame you if you wouldn’t want to marry her now.”

Yeosang’s expression fell, anger bubbling in his stomach and threatening to rise up into his throat. He cleared his throat before speaking. “I don’t think that’s really what is important right now. Presently, I would like to make sure she is safe and looked after. Getting her back to a state of normalcy is the most urgent,” he responded.

Your father, looking very embarrassed, nodded, muttering to himself. “We will discuss this matter another time,” Yeosang added. He gave your father a very curt nod and opened the door, stepping out into the night and heading for the church.

He needed to speak to Jonas and tell him everything. Right now.

—————————————————————

It had been several days since you’d run out of the forest and into Yeosang and despite everyone’s best efforts, you remained in a catatonic state. Your mother struggled to get you to eat or speak. You barely slept at night, instead tossing and turning and being terrorized by nightmares. The day time only offered the relief of it no longer being dark.

Yeosang visited you multiple times each day to check on you. When he was near, you felt safer but you knew it was only a matter of time until Hongjoong came back to the village. Yeosang had placed a few protective charms around your home, especially in your room by the window and over the door.

He was certain that whatever he saw coming out of the forest after you wasn’t human. The fear he saw in your face as well as the way he felt upon seeing the figure confirmed in his mind that something dark and inhuman had been chasing you.

During his visits, Yeosang hoped you might open up and tell him what happened but each day, you refused to talk, lying in a catatonic state. Your mother tried to feed you while he was there and a few times, to save your mother from fighting you, Yeosang took over.

He was patient, sitting by your bedside waiting for any sign that you might be more receptive to food. He found that broth seemed to be the only thing you could stomach, solid foods making you sick and coming back up no matter how they were prepared.

Broth was easy and low energy but even sometimes after drinking it, you would still get sick, throwing up into the pail your mother set by your bedside. Yeosang was always there to help, holding the pail for you or rubbing your back soothingly as you retched.

He could see you growing weaker and weaker by the day and at the end of your first week back, you could barely even walk on your own. Your mother was at her wits end, trying to take care of the house but also of you and it was taking a toll on her.

“She just keeps throwing everything up, I don’t know what to do!” your mother said, nearly in tears as Yeosang sat at the dining table while she made some broth. “She can’t keep just drinking broth. She needs sustenance,” she added. Yeosang grimaced as he watched your mother work. “Ideally, yes,” he answered as he watched your mother pour the brother into a bowl and got up. “But currently, she can’t even keep this down,” he explained, picking up a large cup and taking the bowl before pouring it into the cup.

“How do you expect her to keep down meat and potatoes when she can barely stomach liquids?” he asked, offering a kind smile. “We don’t know what she endured,” he continued. “But throwing up seems to be a trauma response to whatever horrors she faced. We have to be patient.”

After filling the cup with warm broth, Yeosang grabbed his book from the table and started up the steps, having grown rather familiar with your parents’ house by this point. He reached your door and softly knocked on it, calling your name. He turned the knob and peered in to find you lying on your back, pillows propping you up but your eyes were closed.

Or they had been when he opened the door. You must have been roused by the sound and your eyes slowly fluttered open. You looked even more exhausted and weary. “Did I wake you?” Yeosang asked softly. You shook your head.

Yeosang entered your room, shutting the door and walked over to the bed, setting your broth down and checking your pail. It had dried sick in it but not much. ‘Hard to throw anything up when there’s nothing in her stomach,’ he thought to himself. 

“I brought you something to eat,” he said, setting his book down and sitting on the edge of your bed. He leaned forward, resting his hand against your forehead before feeling your cheek. “You don’t have a fever, surprisingly,” he muttered, sitting back and looking down at you.

“You feel like eating?” he asked. You didn’t respond, instead staring at the ceiling. Yeosang reached out, gently caressing your cheek. “I wish you would eat, Y/N. I know it is difficult. That’s why I had your broth put in a cup so you can drink it easier than a bowl.”

He studied your face. “I thought I might read to you, if you’d like that,” he continued. “Maybe I could read to you and you can drink your broth,” he suggested. You still didn’t respond, merely laid there, staring at the ceiling. Yeosang got up and moved to the chair, grabbing his book and taking a seat before he opened the book.

“And don’t worry,” he added with a hint of a smile. “It’s not the bible. I’m trying to help you heal, not torture you.”

Yeosang spent the next couple hours reading to you from the book, checking on you every so often but there was no change. You hadn’t moved, the cup on your bedside remained untouched but he persevered. After reading for a couple hours, he said his goodbyes and left, heading down to the kitchen where your mother was. He left the broth on your bedside table, hoping that you might find the strength to drink it in his absence.

He left your house and went back to the church to report to Jonas who had asked for daily updates on your condition. He wanted to know the moment you were speaking again to get your side of the story as to what happened the day you returned to the village.

Afterwards, he went back to his own home and settled down for the night.

The next day, Yeosang stopped by your place in the morning to check on you. He greeted your mother as he walked in, having been told he could come and go as he pleased as long as he helped you. Yeosang asked if your mother had checked on you this morning and she shook her head. 

“I came right down the stairs to start my daily tasks,” she admitted. Yeosang noticed how exhausted she seemed. “Are you sleeping at night, Mrs. Y/L/N?” he asked, getting to his feet and walking over to check her temperature. “I’m alright,” she said. “No need to fuss over me.”

Yeosang let out a chuckle. “If you want to go and rest, I’ll take care of things here,” he offered. Your mother looked at him with wide eyes. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” she said, shaking her head. “I have a husband and a sick child to care for. I can hardly afford to be idle.”

Yeosang watched as she resumed, bustling about. “Then let me take care of Y/N,” Yeosang replied. Your mother turned to look at him. “I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she said, shaking her head. “You aren’t asking,” Yeosang said. “I’m offering.”

After staring at him for a moment, your mother finally conceded. “Alright. Can you first go get the cup of broth? I don’t think she drank it and I’m gonna try something different today.” Yeosang smiled and nodded, heading for the stairs and climbing them slowly.

He opened the door and peered into your room. You were lying on your side, eyes closed and you looked like you were finally sleeping. Yeosang quietly entered the room, taking care to move slowly so as to not make much noise. He walked over to the bedside table, checking the pail to find nothing new had been added. He grabbed the cup and lifted it, finding it much lighter than when he set it down.

A smile crossed his face when he found it mainly empty. He glanced at your sleeping form before he started to turn but felt a hand close around his wrist and looked down to see you looking up at him through sleepy eyes.

“Hey,” he said softly, kneeling down and gently stroking your head. “Go back to sleep,” he said softly. “I’m just taking this back downstairs.” You blinked sleepily at him before your eyes fluttered shut and you let out a soft sigh.

Yeosang continued stroking your head before he stood up and made his way to the door, checking to make sure you were still asleep before he shut the door and headed down to the kitchen where your mother was checking something cooking in a pot over the hearth.

She turned to look at Yeosang as he entered. “She finished the broth and the pail is empty,” he announced as he walked over to show your mother the empty cup. A look of relief passed over your mother’s face. “Is she awake?” she asked.

Yeosang shook his head. “She was briefly while I was in there, but she’s gone back to sleep so I think it best if we let her rest for now and bring her something to eat later,” he explained, feeling better when your mother nodded in agreement.

Yeosang stayed downstairs, insisting he help your mother around the house in your absence. Initially she refused but Yeosang said he would only tend to your chores just to lessen the burden. He worked diligently and without complaint for a few hours while your food cooked.

As he finished sweeping, your mother called him over. She had made lunch and despite his insistence, she made him sit down and eat before she let him head upstairs with your food. Upon entering your room, Yeosang found you lying on your side, eyes closed but it was clear you’d gotten sick and managed to pull the pail closer.

Rushing over, he set the bowl of food on the bedside and looked into the pail to find whatever you had ingested was now resting in the bottom of the pail. Yeosang sighed softly and grabbed a small rag from his pocket, kneeling down to carefully wipe the rest of the sick from the corner of your mouth and chin.

You started to stir as he finished, your eyes opening weakly. “Here,” he said softly, helping you sit up, rearranging your pillows so you were propped up. He sat on the edge of your bed. “You aren’t keeping anything down,” he said softly, watching as you avoided his gaze. “Hey,” he whispered, taking your hand.

“I’m not upset,” he started, feeling relieved when you looked up to meet his eyes. “I’m worried, Y/N. You aren’t eating, you’re barely sleeping, and you won’t speak. I thought we had made progress when you finished the broth but maybe it was too much for your stomach. Maybe you need smaller portions,” he mumbled.

You said nothing but you didn’t need to. “I’ll be right back,” he said, grabbing the bowl, and headed for the door. He rushed back downstairs, setting the bowl on the table, taking in your mother’s concerned face. “Did she get sick again?” she asked, mumbling a curse when Yeosang nodded. “Do you have any more of that broth?” he asked.

She nodded and got up. “Give me just a small cup of it. I think the portions are too big. She needs to eat smaller and then we can work her up.” With the broth in hand, Yeosang headed back upstairs and entered your room, giving you a smile as he walked over and set the cup on the bedside. “Take your time with it. If it takes you all day to eat it, that’s okay. Just sip it for now,” he explained as he grabbed the chair and moved it closer.

“Would you like me to read to you?” he asked. This time, instead of staring at him or the ceiling, you nodded. It was such a subtle movement but Yeosang, who had grown accustomed to you and was aware of even the slightest change, noticed.

He pulled out his book and resumed where he’d left off, reading a few chapters to you.

As he finished the third one, he looked up to find you fast asleep. He checked the cup and saw you had finished about half the broth and smiled as he got up, heading for the door and shutting it softly behind him.

It was progress but he would have to check in the morning to make sure you didn’t get sick in the middle of the night or in the morning. Yeosang left the house, bidding your parents farewell before heading home. 

The next day, when Yeosang came to check on you, your mother excitedly told him you had finished the rest of your broth and had not gotten sick in the night nor in the morning. Relief passed over them at the prospect that you might have been able to keep down the broth.

After helping with the morning chores, Yeosang headed up to your bedroom with your broth and a new book in addition to the one he’d been reading to you. He spent a few hours reading to you as you sipped on your broth until you fell asleep.

The next couple days went by the same. Yeosang had just spent the last few hours reading to you and lost track of time. Your parents invited him to stay for dinner and afterwards, he was on his way out, night having fallen already. 

As he walked, he heard a twig snapped and looked around, taking note of a young woman in a cloak walking towards the woods. He turned, watching her with a mixture of confusion and intrigue. Before her was a black ram which would walk a short distance before stopping and turning to look at her. Once she caught up, the ram would repeat the process.

Yeosang watched the scene unfold silently and when the woman disappeared into the shadows of the forest, he followed, stopping at the edge of the forest and peering around a tree to see the woman had only gone in so far that she wouldn’t be immediately spotted. She removed her cloak, revealing herself to be entirely nude underneath.

The ram turned and Yeosang watched with wide eyes as the animal shifted into a tall dark figure and held out a hand which the woman took. The figure guided her down onto the forest floor and Yeosang pulled back and turned away to avoid witnessing any more.

He hurried to the church instead of his home and opened it, climbing the stairs in the back hall to Jonas’ room where he knocked urgently. After a moment, the door opened and a very tired looking Jonas appeared. “Pastor Kang?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

Yeosang, who had all but run to the church, launched into an explanation of what he’d seen. Once he was done, Jonas nodded thoughtfully. “It sounds like we may have a demon lurking in the woods,” he said softly. “And what are we going to do about it?” Yeosang asked when Jonas didn’t elaborate further.

The elder minister looked up at him. “Oh, I’ll prepare some new protective charms and we’ll put them up around the village. That should help ward off the evil,” he said, nodding again. “If you’ll excuse me,” Jonas said. “I was in the middle of my prayers. Good evening, Pastor Kang.”

Yeosang bowed his head as Jonas closed the door and headed back down the steps and out of the church. Once he was back on flat ground, he glanced towards the forest as a chilly wind swept through the village. If Jonas was going to up the protective measures on the village, Yeosang would have to up them on your home.

The moon that should have been overhead was hidden by the clouds that had rolled in just after the sun had set beyond the horizon, blocking out the stars as well. The chill in the air would normally have deterred anyone from leaving their home but Yeosang was determined to catch a glimpse of that dark figure he’d seen twice now.

The oil in his lamp was getting low as he continued to walk around the village. He’d made three passes already around the perimeter, keeping a watchful eye on the edge of the forest. He knew he was being ridiculous but Yeosang was determined to figure out this mystery. He had his suspicions but he would not lay blame until he knew everything.

As he neared your parents’ home, he wondered how you had been fairing the last few days. He and Jonas had been busy placing protective ornaments around the village, over the front doors of each home. He’d made more to hang in your room and delivered them to your parents who promised to put them up for him.

As he turned away from the forest, something caught his eye, a shadow darker than the rest moving through the trees. Yeosang raised the lantern in his hand, hoping to extend the reach of the light but it didn’t seem to help. The shadow only disappeared. Yeosang followed, walking down to the edge of the forest and following it past the last house until he was at the corner of the clearing.

He scanned the tree line but saw nothing and decided to follow it behind the houses. As he reached the section of trees behind your home, he peered into the trees, squinting as if it would help him see through the darkness better.

There was a scraping behind him and he turned to face the backside of your house. As he scanned the building, his eyes focused on a dark shadow near the window at the top. He raised his lantern and let out a small gasp.

A dark figure was crawling up the wall, peering into your window. It extended a clawed hand towards the window and attempted to open it but Yeosang called up to the figure. “Who is that?” he asked. The figure froze, head whipping around.

Yeosang stumbled backwards as it glared at him with fiery red eyes. His foot hit a small stone and he nearly fell, regaining his balance and stood back up, looking around the house for any sign of the figure but it was nowhere to be seen.

Yeosang hurried around to the front of your house, still finding no sign of the figure and sighed. He would have to inform Jonas in the morning of what he had seen. He started heading back towards his home, checking the rest of the houses along the way.

The following morning, Yeosang entered the church to report his findings to Jonas who made note of them. As they were speaking, a scream rang out from the direction of the forest. Yeosang followed Jonas out of the church as a crowd started to gather.

“Get back!” a voice yelled. Yeosang and Jonas pushed their way to the front to find a gruesome scene unfolding before them. A body had been pulled out of the well and was currently being cradled by a woman who was wailing as he clung to the lifeless body.

The person who had yelled was Abel. He was trying to shield his wife, Prudence, from view. Yeosang approached, placing a calm hand on his shoulder before moving past him and kneeling beside his wife. She was sobbing uncontrollably and when Yeosang leaned down to look, he saw Judith’s face, pale and colorless. He sat back up as Jonas kneeled beside him.

“It’s Judith,” Yeosang whispered to the elder minister. Jonas glanced at him before turning his gaze back to the body. “I will handle the crowd, you tend to her,” he said softly, nodding at Prudence and standing up.

Yeosang placed a hand on Prudence’s back. “Let’s get her inside,” he said softly in a calm and kind voice. He removed his cloak, using it to shield Judith’s body from view and guided Judith’s mother to stand before he carefully picked up Judith’s corpse and followed Prudence into the house while Jonas spoke to the crowd that had gathered.

Yeosang followed Prudence to the kitchen where she cleared the dining table and Yeosang carefully set Judith down. “Would you be so kind as to fetch the village doctor,” Yeosang asked Prudence and Abel’s eldest child, Michael. He nodded and hurried out of the house.

Yeosang guided Prudence to the living room and sat her down, kneeling before her. “Tell me everything,” he said softly.

Between sobs, Prudence managed to tell him how Abel had gone to the well to fetch some water and that pulling the bucket up was proving to be a chore indeed. He asked for help and as he and two other men retrieved the bucket, they pulled up Judith’s body.

Yeosang’s heart sank as he turned to look through the doorway into the kitchen where Judith’s corpse lay, covered by his cloak. The door behind him opened and Michael returned with the doctor in tow, Abel and Jonas following close behind.

Yeosang got to his feet, gesturing for Michael to sit with his mother as Jonas instructed Abel to sit while the two priests followed the doctor into the kitchen. Yeosang pulled his cloak back and resisted the urge to gasp as he finally got a good look at Judith.

Her eyes were closed, as if she had been asleep. Other than the color being drained from her skin and due to her wet hair and clothes, she looked like she might have fallen in and drowned if it hadn’t been from the rip in her dress and the hole in her chest.

“Have you ever seen anything like this before, Doctor?” Jonas whispered. The doctor, Jones, had a look of shock on his face. It was clear to Yeosang he had, in fact, not seen anything like it before. “It looks as if…” he started, glancing towards the doorway before lowering his voice.

“As if her chest has been ripped open.”

Yeosang looked up from Judith’s face to the doctor. “Ripped open?” he repeated softly. “What kind of creature could do this?” Yeosang asked, keeping his voice low. The doctor shook his head. “I don’t know,” he replied. “Perhaps a bear or some kind of large cat—”

“There are no other marks on her,” Yeosang countered angrily. Jonas held his hand up. “Keep your voice down, Pastor Kang,” he said calmly. Yeosang took a step back, lowering his gaze. “Yes, of course. My apologies.”

Jonas leaned forward, peering into the gaping wound in Judith’s chest before standing back up and turning to the doctor. “Her heart seems to be missing,” he said softly. Yeosang looked up as Jones leaned forward to inspect as well, letting out a soft prayer.

“Can you close the wound?” Jonas asked, drawing both Yeosang and Jones’ attention. “I…” Jones turned to look at Yeosang but the younger minister said nothing, offering no help. “I can try. Bring her to my office. I’ll conduct my work there.”

Jonas nodded and left the kitchen to ask the family for a sheet or blanket to cover Judith so she can be moved. Abel and Michael tried to protest but Jonas insisted, so the doctor can close the hole in her chest, offer her some dignity.

Once a bed sheet had been retrieved, Michael and Abel carried Judith’s body over to Jones’ home so he could stitch the wound closed and Yeosang left the house in a daze. Had this been the work of the figure he’d seen last night? What was it? Some sort of demon?

Jonas called for a meeting of just the adults, leaving the children and young unmarried adults at home while he finally broke the news of Judith’s death and the manner in which her body was found. He also revealed that the culprit might possibly be a demon that was summoned no doubt after Hongjoong’s hasty execution.

“What does that mean?” Nicolas asked from his seat in the back of the church. “It means nothing,” Jonas answered. “Only that we must be vigilant and keep a watchful eye. Pastor Kang and I will fashion more protective charms and deliver them door to door so you may protect your homes from the demon.”

After the meeting, Yeosang was kept busy, fashioning more charms to have Jonas bless so they could give them to the villagers. Yeosang had already given your parents’ some of his own making so he saw no reason to make anymore for your family.

Once he had finished this task, he went by your parents’ home, apologizing for not visiting sooner. He helped your mother around the house and took your meal up to you. He was more than pleased to see you were starting to regain your strength and that you were eating actual food now. He spent a couple hours reading to you while you ate before he had to leave again.

The next two nights, the charms did not seem to work as two more women were killed. Sara’s body was found at the edge of the forest, strangled and Charity’s body was found just outside the pig’s pen while her head was found in the chicken coop. 

Sensing that they would most likely require help, Yeosang spoke to Jonas about sending out word to neighboring villages to ask for help. Jonas agreed and helped Yeosang write the letters and send them out. 

All they had to do now was wait.

—————————————————————

It had been several days since Yeosang sent out the letters and he was back out, patrolling at night. He and a few of the other villagers had agreed to take turns patrolling at night to keep an eye on the village and it was Yeosang’s turn. 

He was passing in front of the church when he heard the snap of a twig and turned his head to look between the church and the house next to it. “Is someone there?” he asked, his voice slightly raised. He waited for a response but when he got none, he was about to continue on until another snap and sound of footsteps.

He hesitated, staring into the dark until he remembered the dark figure he’d seen trying to get into your house and continued forward, one foot in front of the other as he walked between the buildings. As he reached the back, he peered around, seeing nothing standing out in the dark. He turned to look behind the house and saw nothing. As he turned to make his way back, he felt a hand grab him and his back slammed against the outside wall of the outhouse.

He tried to pull the hand off him but it proved to be too strong. The lantern fell and Yeosang looked up to find the same black fiery eyes looking back at him. The dark figure he’d seen outside your house.

“What do you want?” Yeosang choked out, grabbing at the hand around his throat. He watched as the blackened skin of the figure melted away, eyes wide in both shock and disbelief as the familiar face of Hongjoong appeared before him.

“It cannot be,” he whispered. Hongjoong smiled at him before letting go of Yeosang’s throat and took a step back. Yeosang fell to his knees, massaging his neck and coughing before he looked up at Hongjoong. “How?” was all he asked.

“How? How what?” Hongjoong asked, tilting his head. Yeosang was able to get a much better look at him now. All the blackened skin had melted away and Hongjoong as he had been before his death stood before him. His eyes were the same fiery red irises, surrounded by black and two small, black horns protruding through the skin of his forehead.

“How are you here?” Yeosang asked, looking up at Hongjoong as he stood motionless in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall behind him. “How did you come back?” Hongjoong let out a scoff.

“Does it really matter?” he asked, glaring at Yeosang. “No,” Yeosang said softly. “I guess it doesn’t. But what do you want? Why did you kill those women?” Hongjoong stared at Yeosang wordlessly for a moment before speaking.

“I’m just returning the favor to my murderers,” he replied. “I’m taking their futures away just as mine was ripped away from me.” Yeosang got up slowly, grabbing his lantern. “An eye for an eye will make the world blind,” he said, to which Hongjoong burst into laughter.

“Were you always this boring?” he asked. Yeosang frowned as he looked at Hongjoong. “Does this plan for retribution include Y/N?” he asked, taking note of the way Hongjoong tensed up, his smile falling. “Her father led the charge after all.”

Hongjoong uncrossed his arms and stalked forward, closing the distance between them. “Why wouldn’t it?” Hongjoong asked, his voice dangerously low. “Her father is just as guilty as the others. I’ll take his future from him, too.”

Yeosang resisted the urge to protest, instead taking a deep breath despite the pounding of his own heart and shaky breathing. This was the closest to hell he’d ever come and never want to do it again.

“What about your feelings for Y/N?” Yeosang asked softly. Hongjoong narrowed his eyes as he studied Yeosang’s face. Whatever he was expecting Hongjoong to say, it wasn’t what came out of his mouth next.

“What feelings?” 

Yeosang felt his heart sink as he looked at Hongjoong’s stoic expression. 

“You…” Yeosang’s words failed him. How could he just forget everything like that? After everything you’d been through to be together, the plans you both made, how could Hongjoong just toss it away like that? It made Yeosang so… angry. ‘How dare he?!’

“You and Y/N,” he started. “You loved her. You were so in love with her. How do you not still feel that way?” Yeosang demanded, his anger bubbling to the surface. Hongjoong studied him carefully, tilting his head from side to side before a smirk settled on his lips.

“Oh I see,” he said, taking a step forward. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

Yeosang took a step back, staring wide-eyed at Hongjoong. “W-what?” he whispered. “Of course not! I would never do that to Hongj—”

“How noble of you,” Hongjoong snapped. “Putting aside your feelings so the outsider that lives in the woods could have a chance at love.” Yeosang took note of the change in Hongjoong’s voice. It was deeper and it sounded like more than one person was talking at once.

It sounded… inhuman.

“Poor Pastor Kang. So young and lonely,” he continued, stalking forward as Yeosang backed away. “In love with a woman who would never love him back. How pathetic.” 

Each word was like a stab in the chest. He had never truly considered Hongjoong his friend and he knew Hongjoong never considered him a friend either but he had always respected Hongjoong. “Stop it,” Yeosang said as his back pressed against a tree.

“Regardless of what this mortal once felt for the human girl, she will die,” Hongjoong continued, the inhuman voice speaking through him. “I will get retribution and I will kill her.” Hongjoong started as he started to turn away. “And if you get in my way,” he continued before hesitating to look back.

“I’ll kill you too.”

Yeosang watched as he disappeared into the shadows of the house and from view. The sound returned to the night, crickets chirping loudly from the grass, an owl hooted in the distance and Yeosang snapped out of his horrific trance.

If it hadn’t been clear before, it was now; Hongjoong had returned but something else had come back with him. Only one question remained for Yeosang to answer.

Who had come back with him?

Loud banging at the door woke Yeosang with a start and he sat up with a gasp. He looked around in a sleepy daze as the loud knocks continued. He pulled back the sheets and grabbed a shirt, pulling it on as he stumbled through the house to the door.

He pulled it open, blinking in the bright light of the day. 

“It’s Y/N!” your father said, a look of fear on his face. “Something is wrong!”

Yeosang snapped out of his daze and moved to grab his coat, pulling on his boots and dressing in a hurry. He followed your father across the village to your house. As he entered, he could hear a commotion coming from upstairs.

 Yeosang pushed past your father and headed up the stairs quickly. Your bedroom door was open, your mother sitting on your bed, helping you sit up and holding the pail as you retched violently. “I don’t know what happened!” your mother said tearfully as Yeosang crossed the room.

“How long has she been like this?” Yeosang asked, looking at your mother as you vomited into the pail. “I don’t know! I came in to check on her and she was moaning in pain. Her pillow was drenched in sweat and she was warm to the touch. She started throwing up but she hasn’t stopped,” your mother explained quickly as Yeosang knelt down, lifting your face.

All the color had left you, your skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat and it was clear you were weak. “What’s wrong with her, Pastor Kang?” your father asked. Yeosang turned to look at him before looking at your mother. He finally looked at you as you retched again, a loud gagging sound coming from your throat.

“I can’t be certain,” Yeosang said. “What has she eaten recently?” he asked. “Just meat and potatoes, the same I have been giving her since she was able to keep food down,” your mother answered. You retched again, throwing up into the pail. Yeosang glanced down and noticed red swirling in your sick.

He looked up slowly at your mother. “Fetch the doctor,” Yeosang said softly. Your father stepped into the room. “What?” he asked. Before Yeosang could answer, you vomited again only instead of stomach contents, it was nothing but blood.

Your mother let out a wail as Yeosang turned to your father. “Call for the doctor!”

Your father stumbled out of the room and headed down the stairs as Yeosang stood up, removing his coat. “Has she been drinking anything?” Yeosang asked as he rolled up his sleeves. “Just cider,” your mother answered. “Where did the potatoes and meat come from?” Yeosang asked as he pressed his palm against your forehead.

“She’s growing cold,” he murmured. “Just from our reserves. The potatoes were harvested from our vegetable garden!” your mother answered as Yeosang took the pail from her, moving to the window to toss the contents out and move back to the bed.

“Do you have anything in the house that hasn’t come from outside?” he asked, looking up at your mother. “I have some bread from the neighbor. And some bone broth she made. I was getting low.” Yeosang guided your mother to her feet. “Heat up the broth. Do not take your eyes off it,” he instructed. “I will stay here with her.”

Your mother hesitated, looking at your sickly form. “Go!” he snapped. “The more time you waste, the worse she will get! I think she’s been poisoned.” At that, your mother hurried out of the room and he could hear her footsteps rush down the stairs.

Yeosang climbed onto your bed, settling next to you as he helped you sit up. He set the pail on the bed and grabbed the rag from your bedside, using it to wipe the blood from your chin. “He can’t enter your home,” he muttered to himself. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t poison your food.”

You let out a small sob and Yeosang felt his heart break. “It’s going to be alright,” he said softly. “Just stay with me, Y/N.” A fresh wave of nausea took over and you vomited violently into the pail, more blood. Yeosang wiped your face once more as heavy footsteps climbed the stairs. He looked up as Jones and your father entered the room.

“She’s vomiting blood,” Yeosang quickly explained. “I think she’s been poisoned.” He could see the expression on your father’s face change from confusion to anger. “Are you accusing us of—”

“I’m not accusing you of anything!” Yeosang snapped as Jones moved to start his examination. “Your food must have been tainted before coming into the home. The demon could have poisoned your food before you brought it in,” he continued, addressing your father.

“Then why aren’t we sick?” your father asked. Yeosang shook his head. “I do not know. I can’t offer any explanation.” Jones felt the sides of your neck, massaging before looking up at Yeosang and then to your father. “Is she allergic to anything?” he asked.

Your father stared at him. “Allergic? I don’t think so…” he trailed off. Jones murmured to himself. “I’ll need charcoal then,” he said, looking up at your father. “Charcoal?” your father asked. Yeosang was starting to grow tired of all the questions. “Whatever for?”

Jones turned to your father. “Do you want me to save her or not?” he asked, exasperatedly. Your father gulped and exited the room as another wave of nausea took over, causing you to vomit into the pail. Yeosang helped you lie back, wiping your face.

“Do you know if she’s allergic to anything?” Jones asked. Yeosang shook his head. “Not to my knowledge. She never mentioned anything.” Jones nodded as your father returned, fingers smeared with black as he held a few pieces of charcoal in his hand.

“Ahh, thank you,” Jones said, taking the pieces. “Were these outside?” Yeosang asked, looking up at your father who shook his head. “No,” he answered. “They were in the pantry.” Jones looked around. “Oh, do you have a mortar and pestle?” he asked. Your father disappeared for a few moments before returning with the item. 

Yeosang watched as the doctor ground up the charcoal for a few moments before turning. “Sit her up, please.” Yeosang did as asked, pulling you up and allowing your back to rest against his chest. “Open her mouth.” Yeosang did as instructed, holding your mouth open as Jones mixed the charcoal into a flask of liquid. 

“What is that?” Yeosang asked. “Wine,” Jones answered. “It’s from my home. It’s safe,” he added, noticing Yeosang’s expression. “Tilt her head back slightly, yes like that. Good,” he said. “She might fight this but it’s important she swallows it. If anything is in her system, this should flush it out.”

Yeosang nodded and kept one arm firmly around your chest as Jones tipped the glass, allowing the concoction to spill into your open mouth. He used his free hand to massage the front of your neck, forcing you to swallow. As soon as he went to pour more into your mouth, you gagged, struggling against Yeosang’s grip. 

“Hold her!” Jones said. Your father watched in horror from the doorway as Yeosang and Jones managed to get you under control and force you to drink the rest of the mixture. “She will start vomiting again,” Jones said breathlessly as he replaced the lid on the glass flask and you slumped back against Yeosang.

“It may get dirty, bloody even, but it is vital you let the antidote run its course,” Jones explained. The next moment, your body started convulsing and Yeosang grabbed the pail just as you sat up, grabbing the pail from him and vomiting into it. It looked horrid and smelled even worse.

Your father gagged and stepped out as you continued to retch, vomiting into the pail everything in your stomach. Yeosang eyed the contents, seeing nothing but black goo. After several minutes of this, you seemed to have run out of things in your stomach to throw up.

There was a strange gagging sound from your throat almost as if you were choking. “Something’s lodged in her throat,” Jones said, stepping forward but Yeosang was quicker. He gave you one solid thump on the back and whatever was stuck in your throat was forced out, hitting the inside side of the pail and falling into the black goo.

You let out an exhausted huff and slumped back against Yeosang once more, hands falling limp. Jones took the pail carefully. “I think the worst is past,” he said as he looked at your exhausted form. “I’ll fetch some water to clean her face,” he added. He walked out of the room, carrying the pail and Yeosang heard his footsteps wane as he descended the steps.

Grabbing the bloodstained rag, Yeosang attempted to wipe your face but wasn’t able to make much progress. Moments later, your mother appeared, carrying a small basin with water and handed Yeosang a clean rag before setting the water on the bed.

“Will she be alright?” your mother whispered as Yeosang dipped the rag in the water and started to clean your face, chin, mouth, and even neck. “I don’t know,” Yeosang answered truthfully. “I think Jones has done all he can. Now we must wait.”

Your mother nodded and headed for the door. “Could you bring that broth?” Yeosang asked, looking up from your sleeping expression. “I’d like to try and get something into her stomach as soon as allowed.” Your mother nodded and left the room.

Once Yeosang was satisfied you were cleaned, he leaned back against the pillows, letting you rest against his chest as he listened to the sound of your shallow breathing. He felt your forehead and while you were still clammy, he could have sworn he felt some warmth to your skin.

Hours passed, your mother finally returning with the broth as well as a bowl of something for Yeosang. “I’m sure you didn’t have time to eat before you came here. It’s just porridge,” she explained. Yeosang offered a smile, thanking her before turning his attention back to you.

Some time passed before Jones returned with your father. “I checked the pail,” Jones explained. “There was something in it.” Yeosang looked from the doctor to your father and back. “And what did you find?” he asked.

Jones stepped forward, presenting an item he no doubt washed thoroughly before handling it. It was a pendant. One Yeosang recognized. Before he could say anything, your father spoke. “It belonged to… him.” Yeosang looked up at him, realization setting in. He glanced back down at the pendant, staring up at him.

Just as he surmised, it had belonged to Hongjoong. But what was it doing in Y/N’s stomach and more importantly how did it get there?

Jones gave you one last examination and determined that only time would tell if he’d administered the antidote in time if it had even been poison to begin with. Yeosang and your father thanked the doctor and Yeosang remained behind while your father walked him out.

Yeosang ate the porridge your mother had brought him but as soon as he was done, he turned his attention back to you. “I know you don’t share the same faith as me,” he whispered. “But I’d like to pray for you, if you’ll let me?”

He’d been holding your hand in his and when your hand tightened, fingers lacing with his, Yeosang took that as you giving him your permission. He closed his eyes, silently praying to whatever god was listening that you would make it through this.

Yeosang stayed the rest of the day with you, refusing to leave your side. He was gently shaken awake by your mother. “Night has fallen,” your mother whispered, holding a candle. “You should sleep in your own bed. Come back in the morning,” she said. Yeosang shook his head. 

“No,” he answered. “I’ll stay here if that’s alright. I’ve been praying over her,” he added. “I must have fallen asleep. I’ll stay.” Your mother looked taken aback but when she noticed how peacefully you were sleeping in his arms, she relented. “Of course,” your mother replied, setting the candle down on the bedside table.

“Good night then, Pastor Kang,” she said as she walked to the door. “Good night,” Yeosang replied as the door shut, leaving you two alone in the dim light of the flame. “Now, where was I?” Yeosang murmured as he tried to trace his mental footsteps only to give up after a moment to start his prayer all over.

You slept through most of the next day, only getting sick once to cough up what was left of the charcoal and wine in your system. Yeosang managed to get you to sip a little of the broth and continued to recite the same prayer over and over.

Your father stayed out of the room, leaving your mother the only one to willingly enter. “He believes this is all his fault,” your mother said as he sat on the chair beside your bed, doing some mending while Yeosang listened to her.

You were fast asleep in his arms, your breathing had evened out and your sweat had lessened. Instead of being cold, you were starting to grow warm again, like life was seeping back into your body. Holding you like this, so close, made Yeosang feel even more protective over you.

He looked up, looking towards your mother who kept her eyes on her sewing. He was tempted to say that your father was indeed responsible for all of this but he bit his tongue, not wanting to open that jar. ‘All in time,’ he told himself.

Your mother looked up from her sewing and lowered her hands. “Could I ask you something, Pastor Kang?” she asked, drawing his attention. “Hm?” Yeosang hummed. Your mother hesitated, glancing at your sleeping face before speaking in a low voice.

“Do you love her?”

Yeosang hesitated, not because he didn’t know the answer. The truth was he did love you. As a friend, but also as more. He hadn’t found the time to confess to you but when he learned about you and Hongjoong, he knew he stood no chance, not when he saw the stolen glances between you when Hongjoong visited the village on occasion.

He knew you would never look at him that way and he was fine with that. He respected your choices. But love you he did. He showed it in his own way. When he warned you about the rumors and made you promise to stay out of the forest, when he shielded you from seeing or hearing things that might upset you, or when he agreed to marry you so he could push it back and free Hongjoong. He wanted your happiness above everything else, even if it cost him everything.

Yeosang looked up as your mother’s expectant and waiting face. He could be honest now, right? Hongjoong was gone, for all intents and purposes and what remained was no longer him. It couldn’t be. He died. Then why did Yeosang feel like telling the truth would feel like betraying Hongjoong or rather, the memory of him?

It felt selfish, that Hongjoong should lose everything and Yeosang could gain everything. It was life’s cruel trick, that he could stand to gain the love of his life but at the loss of hers.

He looked back down at your sleeping expression. Was it selfish when Hongjoong would never be able to fulfill the promises he had made you in life but Yeosang could offer you any and everything you wanted? If you wanted to leave the village and start a new life, Yeosang would give up everything he owned for your dream because he was willing to make that sacrifice for you. After all, isn’t that what love was? A series of compromises and self sacrifices?

Yeosang smiled to himself, reaching up to gently stroke your cheek. If it was selfish to do everything in his power to make you happy, then he would just have to be selfish.

“Yes,” he answered softly. “I do.”

The third day passed in the same fashion as the second. Yeosang spent a better part of the day praying, stopping only to eat and to feed you should you wake up. Your mother left the two of you alone and your father left the house early, not to return until dinner time.

Yeosang had just finished eating and was about to return to prayer when he looked down and saw your eyes looking up at him. He set his bowl aside and sat up, carefully helping you into a sitting position. “You’re awake,” he said softly. You reached up, cupping his cheek.

“Yeosang,” you said, your voice hoarse. He felt as if the world around him stopped upon hearing you speak finally. “Y/N,” he said with a laugh. “Y/M/N!” Yeosang called to the open door. “She’s awake!”

There were hurried footsteps and your mother appeared in the doorway, relief passing over her. “Oh Y/N,” she said, crossing the room and grabbing the chair to pull closer. “Hi, mama,” you said softly. Your mother’s lips parted in shock as you took one of your hands in both of hers and let out a soft cry, bowing her head.

“I’ll fetch Jones,” Yeosang started, moving to get up but you grabbed his arm. “No,” you whispered. “Don’t go.” Your mother smiled, letting go of your hand. “I will go. Stay with her,” your mother said as she got up and hurried out of the room.

Yeosang turned to look at you, a relieved smile on his face. “You have no idea how worried we were,” he started. You looked down from his face to your hand, moving it from his arm to take his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “You stayed with me, didn’t you?” you asked in a scratchy voice. Yeosang cleared his throat, looking at your joined hands.

“I did,” he answered. “I wanted to be here when you woke up.”

You looked back up at him and his breath caught in his throat. He could see the look in your eyes, it was one he’d only ever seen you give Hongjoong before. Something akin to adoration. It only lasted for a moment before footsteps interrupted the moment.

Your mother returned with the doctor and your father in tow.

“Okay, everyone out,” Jones instructed. “I need to examine my patient!” You turned to Yeosang who gave you a reassuring nod. “I will be back as soon as he’s done,” he said softly. “I need to go speak with Jonas and inform him of your condition.”

Yeosang grabbed his coat and headed down the steps with your mother and father. He pulled the coat on as your parents sat at the table. “I will return with Jonas,” Yeosang explained. “He asked me to inform him the moment Y/N woke up.” 

Yeosang exited the house, making his way to the church where he found Jonas tending to things in the office. “Pastor Kang,” Jonas said as Yeosang entered. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“Y/N is awake,” Yeosang explained quickly. “And more importantly,” he continued. 

“She is speaking.”

Jonas accompanied Yeosang back to your parents’ house and the two waited downstairs for Jones to give you the all clear. The doctor returned to the kitchen moments later and gave the priests permission to enter before he informed your parents of your condition.

Yeosang led the way up the stairs to your room, knocking gently before waiting for your soft voice to call out a simple come in. Yeosang opened the door, peering in to find you sitting upright, looking exhausted but better than you had in weeks.

You watched as Yeosang entered, eyes widening as Jonas also entered. Yeosang moved to your bedside, grabbing the chair and setting it a comfortable distance from your bed. He offered it to Jonas who held up his hand as he stood by the door that was now shut. “You take it,” he said to the younger priest. “She’s much more comfortable with you.”

Yeosang glanced at you before taking a seat. You looked from Yeosang to Jonas nervously. “Pretend I am not here, child,” Jonas said with a smile. “I’m merely here to listen to your testimony.” You turned your gaze to Yeosang. “We need you to tell us what happened,” Yeosang started. “After you ran away from the village in the aftermath of—”

“Hongjoong’s death,” you finished, surprising both Yeosang and Jonas. “I’ll try,” you said softly, reaching for a glass on the bedside table. Yeosang grabbed it and handed it to you. “Doctor Jones gave this to me. It’s water mixed with some sort of mineral. It’s supposed to help me regain my strength.” Yeosang smiled as you took a couple sips and took the glass from you, setting it back down.

“Where to begin,” you said softly. “From the beginning,” Yeosang encouraged. You nodded, taking a deep breath before starting your story.

“After my father told me what had transpired, I knew I couldn’t stay. I ran away from home and into the woods,” you started. “Where did you go?” Jonas asked, drawing yours and Yeosang’s attention. “To the cabin,” you answered. “Hongjoong’s cabin?” Yeosang asked, taking a deep breath when you nodded.

“I figured I would spend the night and in the morning, gather what I could and leave the village.” Your words sent a short pang through Yeosang. You had still planned to leave without Hongjoong but he could understand why. You continued, telling them about the knocking and the storm. “And then…” you trailed off.

“Then what?” Jonas asked. You looked up at him, tears welling up in your eyes. “He was outside the cabin,” you whispered, turning your gaze to Yeosang. “Who?” Jonas asked. “Hongjoong,” you answered. “He was covered in dirt and blood and in this trance but when I called his name, he snapped out of it. He came into the cabin and I couldn’t believe it. He was supposed to be dead.”

“But there he was, standing in front of me. He told me what he remembered happened. Something about brimstone and fire and darkness. I can’t remember all the details but to me it sounded like he was describing—”

“Hell,” Yeosang whispered. You nodded, eyes meeting his. “Then what happened?” You swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath. “Then I tried to clean his skin but the dirt wasn’t coming off and it was then I realized it wasn’t dirt. It was like his skin was charred. Burned.”

“Fascinating,” Jonas whispered. Yeosang turned to look at Jonas, finding his interest and choice of words odd. You cleared your throat. “And then what happened?” Jonas asked. You hesitated, looking at him before looking at Yeosang, looking uncomfortable.

“What happened?” Yeosang asked. “We…” you trailed off, lowering your gaze. “Are you saying you had relations with him?” Jonas asked bluntly, his straightforwardness making Yeosang increasingly uncomfortable with the situation. You nodded slowly as more tears formed.

“I see,” Jonas said softly but offered nothing else. “And then what happened?”

You spent the next several minutes telling as detailed an account of what happened from the multiple times you and Hongjoong had sex to his odd changes in behavior until you reached the day of your return.

“I had woken up to find Hongjoong missing so I went looking for him,” you explained, sniffling. “I found him crouched by the stream close to the cabin. I could tell something was wrong but when I tried to get him to open up to me, he lashed out,” you continued. “He grabbed me by the throat and pinned me against a tree. I couldn’t breathe. I thought I was going to die…”

Yeosang resisted the urge to take your hand, to comfort you. He knew he couldn’t do those things in front of Jonas. “Then he seemed to come to his senses and dropped me. He said he couldn’t control it and then he ran away. I couldn’t chase him because I had not seen which direction he had gone in,” you pressed on.

“So I went back to the cabin to wait for him.”

“And did he come back?” Jonas asked, his voice void of curiosity. You nodded, biting your lip to hold in a sob. “He did,” your voice broke as you spoke. “We talked and then he kissed me. He… tried to…” you choked out a sob, your grip on your sheets tightening.

Yeosang couldn’t hold back anymore and leaned forward, taking your hand gently. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I don’t think you need to say it. I can assume what happened.” You looked up at him, tears spilling down your cheeks. “So you ran?” Jonas asked, drawing yours and Yeosang’s attention again. You nodded. “I did,” you answered.

“I ran as fast as I could through the forest until I ran into Yeo – Pastor Kang,” you explained, looking down at your hands. “After that, everything is a blur.”

Jonas nodded wordlessly as he watched you and Yeosang in mild curiosity. “I see,” he said. “Well, I must return to the church. Thank you for your honesty and your testimony, Miss Y/N,” he said with a slight bow of his head. “It has been most informative.”

He bid you both farewell and turned to leave, closing the door behind him leaving you and Yeosang alone. You shifted in bed, readjusting the covers as Yeosang moved to sit on the chair beside your bed.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice soft and full of caution. You looked up to meet his gaze. “Yes?” you asked, voice hoarse. Yeosang picked up the glass of water and handed it to you, watching as you took a gulp before handing it back, thanking him.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he continued as he set the glass aside and turned his gaze on you. The look on your face must have caused him hesitation because he glanced away, not speaking. Perhaps he was seeking the right words.

“What is it?” you asked, sitting up against your pillows more, the bed linens rustling around you, causing Yeosang to turn his head back to look at you. You locked eyes, staring at one another before he finally spoke.

“The other night while I was on patrol, I ran into Hongjoong,” he started, looking down at his hands clasped together as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his thighs. “I asked him about why he’s doing this and he said he wants to take the futures away from the men who killed him.” Yeosang fell silent as he let his words sink in.

You blinked slowly, waiting for him to continue his story. When he didn’t, you spoke up. “Didn’t my father lead the group?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Yeosang nodded silently, staring at his knuckles that were starting to turn white.

“And when I asked him if he planned to kill you–” Yeosang’s voice cracked and he stopped talking momentarily. You looked up from the sheets to the young pastor. “What did he say?” you asked, a lump forming in your throat as you waited for his response.

Yeosang took a deep breath, regaining control over himself before he sat up and looked up to meet your gaze. “He said he will kill you. He no longer has feelings for you. He only cares about retribution.”

Your stomach sank as he spoke, each word like a knife to your gut. You knew the Hongjoong you loved was gone but still learning that he wanted to kill you stung. It felt like someone taking a hot iron and jabbing it into your heart and twisting. You brought your hand up, placing it over your heart as your gaze fell back to the sheets. “I see,” you whispered.

You heard the sound of movement, the floor creaking as Yeosang stood and moved to sit on the edge of your bed. He took your free hand in both of his, the warmth of his hand a nice reprieve for your cold, clammy hands.

“I won’t let him,” he said softly. “Whatever I have to do, I will not let him hurt you.”

You looked up, meeting his soft gaze. “Thank you,” you replied, placing your other hand on top of his. “For telling me and for protecting me as you have while I was unresponsive. My parents told me that you stayed by my side the whole time I was on death’s door. Thank you for that as well, Yeosang.”

He said nothing, merely nodding his head, lowering his eyes to your joined hands. A thought crossed his mind and he briefly entertained bringing it up and after some internal back and forth, he let out a sigh, looking back up.

“I know this is not the time to speak of this, but before all of this, I had promised your parents that I would marry you,” he started, piquing your interest and you tilted your head slightly, curious as to what he was about to say.

“And after everything that’s happened, I’ll understand if you don’t want to, but I’d like to keep that promise,” Yeosang continued. “If you’ll still have me that is.” Your expression remained stoic as you regarded him, mulling over his words before a small smile broke across your face. It was the first genuine smile Yeosang had seen on your face in weeks.

“I’d like that,” you replied with a nod. “Especially if it will get me out of this house,” you added to which Yeosang looked mildly confused. You glanced towards the door before leaning in to speak in a hushed tone.

“I love my parents and I’m thankful for them taking me back but if I am to be honest,” you explained. “They’ve been insufferable since I returned. Especially after the sickness. Mother has barely slept or left my side and father looks worried all the time. I think getting married might ease their worries. Especially if it’s to you.”

Yeosang couldn’t help the small surge of pride from your revelation. “I’d like to marry you very much,” you added as you settled back against your pillows. Yeosang recognized the fatigue that took over your features and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’ll speak with your father,” he announced, lifting one of his hands to feel your cheek. “Your skin feels a little cool,” he added. “Get some rest.” You nodded as he stood up, leaning down to press a tender kiss against the top of your head. “Thank you for speaking with us,” he added as you settled down, reaching to pull the blankets up slightly and tuck you in.

As you slipped into slumber, Yeosang walked quietly to the door, opening it and shutting it softly before descending the stairs. Your father was sitting at the table while your mother tended to the pot hanging over the fire in the hearth. As Yeosang entered the room, they both turned to look at him.

“She’s resting,” he announced. “She’s exhausted herself.” Your mother let out a small sob and your father nodded, sighing heavily. Yeosang hesitated as your mother went back to the pot before he walked a few paces closer. “I’d like to speak to you about something,” he announced, drawing their attention again.

Yeosang looked from your mother to your father who gestured for him to sit. Yeosang waved his hand. “It won’t take long,” he explained. “But before, you asked me if I would marry your daughter to save her reputation. Your reputation,” he started.

He could see the solemn shame on your father’s face as he recalled the reasons for marrying you off before. “Look, Pastor Kang,” your father started. “You don’t have to do it anymore. I don’t think our reputation is worth saving at this point.”

Yeosang remained silent as your father spoke. “It was wrong of me to ask that a man of God take a… my daughter,” he explained. “So if you’d like to back out of it, I wouldn’t blame you.”

Yeosang let out a small huff before he moved over to the table, taking the seat across from your father who looked up in shock at the sudden movement. “I know that before you were trying to save face because of Y/N’s relationship with Hongjoong but I want you to know that I didn’t care about her relationship with Hongjoong before and I don't care about it now. If your offer is still on the table, I’d like to take it. If not, I’d still like to marry your daughter.”

Your mother let out a soft gasp, covering her mouth with her hand as your father looked from her to Yeosang, a look of confusion on his face. “I don’t understand… She’s not… she’s been…” he couldn’t seem to get the words out which worked out in Yeosang’s favor.

“I don’t care who she’s lain with. I care about your daughter, daresay, even love her. I wouldn’t care if she was a virgin or not. I want to protect her in any way I can,” Yeosang argued. He could tell by the looks on their faces, your parents couldn’t fathom why he wanted to marry you but after a moment of silence, your father finally nodded and stood up, Yeosang following suit. Your father held out his hand and Yeosang shook it.

“You have our permission and blessing. As soon as she is well enough.”

The following day, Yeosang had a notice hung up on the door of the church, announcing his intention to marry you and that should no one object, it would happen much sooner than later. As he was a pastor and in good standing with the village, absolutely no one objected to his intentions and all that was left was for you to get better.

It had been a few days since the notice was hung and you were still bed ridden as instructed by the village doctor. You had taken over mending for your mother since you could do that from the comfort of your bed. Yeosang visited you daily and most of the time you sat in a comfortable silence as you sewed and he read. Sometimes he would read to you while you worked. He always left before dinner, despite your mother insisting he stayed.

Once you were allowed to leave your bed, your activity increased and you started helping with small chores as your strength returned, as did the color to your skin. You’d been sickly and it had shown but you were starting to look healthy again.

Your mother traded with one of the neighbors to get some new material with which to make a dress for you to wear at the wedding. You helped by giving your input but it was still a modest piece of clothing that you could always incorporate into your wardrobe.

As the day approached, you saw less and less of Yeosang and were concerned that maybe he was getting cold feet until he came to visit the night before the wedding. He finally agreed to stay for dinner and it was the first time you left your room to eat.

Normally you would have eaten in your room but your finished dress hung in there and you were adamant on not letting Yeosang see it until the wedding. A silly thing to some but to you, it was important and when you had told him, he agreed that if it was important to you, then it was important to him.

Your mother had worked tirelessly that day preparing a nice roast dinner with boiled potatoes and a few other vegetables your mother had pulled from the garden. She’d also spent a good portion of the day preparing a nice dessert.

You sat across from Yeosang who sat between your mother and your father. It dawned on you as you sat there that in less than 24 hours, Yeosang would be your husband. Your thoughts were interrupted by your father who spoke up.

“And news on the demon situation?” he asked suddenly, making your head snap up as you looked at him before turning your attention to Yeosang. “I hardly think that kind of conversation is appropriate for the table, dear,” your mother responded, very pointedly. Yeosang glanced at you before speaking. “Nothing of note. No one else has died–” he explained.

“Praise be,” your mother interjected and you could see Yeosang attempt to keep his expression neutral but you knew deep down he was fighting the urge to laugh. “But he’s still out there and that’s all the more reason to be cautious,” Yeosang continued.

“He’s still after Y/N and he won’t leave until he gets what he wants.”

Silence fell over the table and you continued to eat, keeping your opinions and thoughts to yourself. You knew you could always talk about them with Yeosang but around your parents, you had to keep a facade. You couldn’t let it slip. Not now.

After dinner and dessert, Yeosang announced his departure. You walked him to the door as he thanked your parents for the meal. Once at the door, you stepped out onto the stoop, shutting the door behind you for a little bit of privacy with your soon-to-be husband.

“Are you alright?” he asked, no doubt wondering about your mental state after the conversation at the table. You nodded silently, reaching up to adjust the fastening of his cloak. “I am,” you answered when he continued to stare. 

“I know Hongjoong is gone. The Hongjoong I knew anyway. Whatever is left is a shell of him. And inside, an evil is parading around and masquerading as him. It must be stopped and banished,” you explained. Yeosang’s fingers curled gently around your wrist, eyes boring into yours.

“I know it can’t be easy,” Yeosang said softly. “I know you envisioned a life with him and that you loved him deeply. I’m not seeking to replace him,” he continued. You forced a smile. “But tomorrow I fully intend to promise myself to you. I know I can never make up for what you’ve lost—”

You leaned in, pulling Yeosang into a kiss, cutting him off. It was a chaste kiss without any ulterior motives. As you pulled back, a smile crossed your face. “I know,” you answered. “I don’t want you to replace Hongjoong. I just want to live my life.”

Yeosang’s hand moved up to cup your cheek as he stared into your eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” he asked, to which you nodded. “Yes,” you answered as he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.

It was something you hadn’t experienced since before everything went to hell. Hongjoong had been the only one to show you this form of affection and getting from Yeosang now was something you weren’t prepared for.

“Tomorrow, then,” he whispered, standing back up and giving you a smile, one you returned as he slowly backed away before he turned and walked through the darkness until his clothing blended into the night.

“Tomorrow,” you repeated quietly.

The morning passed in a blur as you were woken up by your mother and told to bathe, cleaning yourself. Your father had gone to the meeting house to prepare for the ceremony as he would actually be the one officiating your wedding. You dressed in silence, aided by your mother who then stood back to admire her handiwork on your dress. It was a simple dress, cut from plain cloth but it was still a work of art.

You sat in your room, nervously twiddling your thumbs and getting up every once in a while to pace. After what felt like an eternity, your mother finally opened your door and told you it was time. You followed her downstairs and stopped just before entering the parlor. Your mother turned to you and smiled. 

“It’s just us, Yeosang, and a few of the neighbors,” she said softly, reaching up to caress your cheek. “I knew you wouldn’t want too many people here. So I’ve asked Eliza and her family to join us.” You smiled, thanking her for taking your feelings into consideration.

The door to the parlor opened and your father appeared, looking between you and your mother. “Well, are we ready?” he asked. You looked up and nodded before following your mother and father inside.

It was as your mother had said. Your parents, Eliza and her parents, and Jonas were present as Yeosang had no family in the village. He’d moved to the village on his own and since then, Jonas had become an unofficial father of sorts.

You crossed the room behind your parents and stopped when you reached Yeosang’s side. His eyes followed you as you walked and you felt a surge of pride inside yourself when you realized he was unable to take his eyes off you.

Your father stood before you, the others in attendance standing behind you as you waited for your father to start speaking. “Marriage is a part of our lives here and ingrained into each and every one of us. It is a civil matter but of course, a spiritual one as well,” your father said, reading from a page in his journal. You felt Yeosang’s hand close around yours, fingers lacing with your own, helping to calm and ground you,

“Before me stands two young adults who have agreed to enter in this union, knowing fully that it is a promise they make not only before their family but also to one another. Yeosang,” your father turned to look at him. 

“Will you have this woman as your wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of marriage? Will you love her, lead her, comfort, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, cleave only to her, as long as you both shall live?”

Your heart skipped as you realized this was it. The vows were simple and to the point. There was never any extreme pomp and circumstance to weddings in the village as shown by the fact that it was just you and your family and one of your oldest friends.

You glanced up at Yeosang who met your gaze before looking at your father, a smile gracing his face. “I will,” he answered. Your heart calmed a moment before you realized it was your turn, eyes widening as your father turned to look at you.

“Y/N, will you have this man as your wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Will you obey him, follow him, help him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, cleave only to him, as long as you both shall live?”

You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. You felt Yeosang give your hand a gentle squeeze and you looked up to meet his gaze, his soft brown eyes looking back at you. A calm settled over you as you looked into his eyes before responding without taking your eyes off him.

“I will.”

The moments that followed afterwards were a blur as the short ceremony concluded and your mother returned to the kitchen to make sure dinner was ready. Eliza and her mother joined while your father and Eliza’s father, Abel, stepped outside for a moment, leaving you alone with your new husband in the parlor. 

You stared at the painting that hung over the fireplace. It was a simple one you had painted not long ago of the wildflower field you used to visit with Hongjoong. It felt like a lifetime ago now. You heard Yeosang approach you cautiously, his footsteps careful.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice quiet. You drew your attention away from the painting and turned to look at him. “Are you all right?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. You nodded, a smile growing on your face before you crossed the distance. Before you had the chance to say or do anything, the door to the parlor opened and Eliza peered in, a smirk on her face.

“Dinner is ready,” she announced.

Yeosang led the way to the kitchen where everyone had already gathered around the table. You joined them, sitting across from Yeosang and next to your mother. The dinner was not unlike the one your mother had made the night before. Instead of a roast, she made a baked chicken with all the fixings.

The conversation around the table was mostly between your parents, Eliza’s, and Jonas but occasionally Yeosang or you would chime in. After dinner and desserts, you headed upstairs with your mother to pack whatever you planned to take with you.

Yeosang had been given a modest house when he moved to the village. Jonas lived in the church but Yeosang had opted to live on his own instead of moving in with another family. Since his home already had everything you would need, you were only taking the necessities, your clothes, a few personal possessions, and your books.

Your father and Eliza’s father carted everything over and once you were ready, you left your parent’s home for the last time. Your mother cried, as you expected she would but you reminded her you weren’t that far away and you could always come visit which Yeosang agreed with.

Eliza and her mother returned home and once your father returned and you said your goodbye to him, you left with Yeosang and the elder pastor. The walk was silent between the three of you but you were grateful for the silence. Jonas accompanied the two of you until you passed the church where he bid the two of you goodnight and went inside, leaving you and your new husband to walk the last stretch to his home alone.

You had never seen Yeosang’s home but you knew it was a one story three-quarter house. Once inside, Yeosang gave you a very short tour which consisted of the living room, a kitchen off from which a well sized and stocked pantry was as well as a borning room which made your cheeks burn.

You were married now and expected to carry out your duties as a woman and a wife. You were sure Yeosang would want children at some point but perhaps that talk would take place after the demon had been dealt with.

Yeosang showed you to the two bedrooms, one at the back of the house off the kitchen, which was where he had already claimed as his own bedroom, and one in the front which was an offshoot from the vestibule. “You are more than welcome to have your own bedroom,” he explained as you returned to the kitchen. “I don’t mind sleeping alone.”

Ignoring his statement, you removed your cloak and draped it over the back of one of the chairs at the table before turning to him. “What’s upstairs?” you asked, looking at the ceiling. Yeosang followed your gaze. “Attic space,” he explained. “It’s just one large space.” He turned to look at you. “Would you like me to make the bed in the other bedroom?” he asked.

You shook your head, crossing the distance. “We’re married,” you started. “We don’t have to sleep in separate beds,” you explained, taking his hand and bringing it up to press your cheek into his palm. “We don’t have to share a bed if you aren’t comfortable with it,” he whispered but you looked up at him, a smile on your face.

“It’s okay,” you replied. “I want to.”

A silence fell between you as you stared up at him, eyes flickering down to his lips and back up. Yeosang must have read your actions because he licked his lips and cleared his throat.

“I know we’re married,” he started. “But you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

You leaned in, lips inches from his. “I know,” you answered. You could feel a single tremor course through his body prompting you to place one of your hands against his chest and push him back until he was against the wall beside the door to the bedroom.

“I want this,” you continued. “We’re married so there’s no reason we can’t do what married couples do.” You pulled back slightly to look at him. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to?” Yeosang stared at you for a few seconds that seemed to stretch into minutes before carefully taking your face in his hands.

“If you think I don’t want to, then you’re wrong,” he whispered, eyes searching yours, admiring the sparkle that seemed to gleam from them. “Then do it,” you said softly. “Make me your wife in every sense of the word, Yeosang.”

The moment his name left your lips, Yeosang pulled you into a searing kiss. Your lips parted and to your surprise, you felt his tongue slip past your lips into your mouth. His hands trailed down to your hips, grabbing at your dress and pulling you closer, pressing your body against his. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, pulling back, letting out a groan as your hands pulled at his clothes. “I am,” you replied, one of your hands sliding up his chest and around to the back of his neck until your fingers curled into his hair.

“I’ve never been more sure in my life,” you added, tugging gently, forcing his head back and exposing his neck to you. Yeosang let out a soft groan at the sensation but he submitted completely to your touch. “Then go ahead, wife,” he murmured as your lips left a trail of kisses down the side of his neck.

With your free hand, you started to pull at the buttons of his clothes, undoing them one by one until his overcoat was open. You pulled back only enough to push it off him, letting it fall to the floor before going back in, nipping at the skin of his neck as your hands continued to undo his shirt.

Yeosang’s hands stayed at your hips as you continued to undress him. It wasn’t entirely lost on you that this might be the first time anyone had touched him like this and yet, his movements seemed to match yours, falling into a rhythm as he started to pull at your own clothes. Once you managed to remove his shirt, he stopped you, reaching up to cup your cheek, thumb caressing your cheek tenderly.

You were about to ask what was wrong when he spoke, confirming your suspicions.

“I need to tell you,” he said, breathlessly. “I’ve never done this before. This is entirely new to me,” he continued, eyes fluttering shut as you leaned in, cutting him off with a kiss. “I know,” you replied. “It’s okay,” you reassured him before taking his hand and pulling him into the bedroom with you, not even bothering to shut the door as you led him over to the bed and guided him to sit.

He watched as you slowly started to remove your dress, a slight pink tinge reaching his cheeks as you undressed. “Shouldn’t I do that?” he asked softly. You fought the urge to smile, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth before you took his hands and guided them.

He maintained eye contact as he finished undoing the buttons of your dress and carefully pulled the fabric away from your body leaving you in your undergarments. You placed your hand on his chest and pushed him back, climbing onto the bed and forcing him to scoot further onto the mattress before straddling his hips.

One of his hands moved to the small of your back, fingers tracing a circular pattern against you through the thin material of your chemise. You took his face in your hands, studying his expression before leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” he mumbled against your lips. You shook your head, pressing another kiss and then another. “Well you are,” he replied. “I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” he added between kisses, making you giggle, breaking your focus. “Am I?” you asked, pulling back to look into his eyes. He nodded silently, his free hand moving up to the side of your neck.

“I’m not just saying that because you’re my wife,” he continued. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful, Y/N.” You bit your lips to try and hide your smile but failed to stop the grin spreading across your face. “You’re beautiful, too, you know,” you replied.

“There’s something so… ethereal about you,” you added. Yeosang shook his head. “No,” he responded. “I’m not–” he started to say but you stopped him, pressing your fingers to his lips. “No, you are,” you retorted. “You’re beautiful, too, Yeosang.”

He didn’t respond, merely looked up at you before nodding, accepting your praise. “If you insist, my dear.” You nodded, pulling him close. “I do,” you answered. “In fact, I readily insist.” You sealed it with another kiss, moaning softly as his hands slid down your back until he had your waist in his hands.

He pulled you against him, your core grinding against him, brushing against the fabric of his trousers. You pulled back, placing both your hands on his chest and pushed, urging him to lie back against the mattress. “Lie down,” you said, which finally made him follow.

“You may be my husband,” you said, leaning over to kiss him once, twice, before speaking again. “And you may make all the decisions regarding our lives,” you continued, stopping him when he tried to interject. “But in this bedroom,” you whispered, lips ghosting over his.

“I am the one in charge.” As you spoke, your hand slipped between your bodies, finding the waistband of his pants and slipped under it, finding his hard cock and taking it firmly in your hand. The hiss Yeosang let out was uncharacteristic but it filled you with pride to have such an effect on him.

“Y/N,” he started as your hand moved, stroking him slowly. “Yes?” you whispered, eager to hear what he had to say as you continued to jerk your hand. “I’m yours,” he responded, eyes fluttering shut as you watched his face. “I’ve always been yours.”

‘Always?’ you thought, wondering what he could possibly mean but you would worry about that later. You squeezed slightly as your hand continued to move, taking note of Yeosang’s responses, reading his body language like a book.

He let out a whine as you removed your hand from his pants before pulling back to undo the ties of his trousers and slowly pull them down until you could toss them aside, leaving him completely nude under you.

You climbed back over him, straddling his hips as you settled down, feeling the smooth underside of his cock against your slick core. Yeosang let out a shuddering groan, hands moving to your hips to still your movements.

You gave him a few moments to adjust to the new feeling before his hands moved again, pulling your skirt up. “Shouldn’t we remove this?” he asked, his voice shaky. You took his wrists and guided his hands up to the tie at the top of your chemise.

“Go ahead,” you simply responded. “Undress me.” 

Yeosang hesitated before his fingers started to undo the ties, fumbling slightly as he did. Once it was untied, you merely pulled it off and dropped it off the side of the bed. You watched Yeosang’s eyes scanned your body, taking in the new sight before him.

After a few moments of silence and inaction, you took his hands again and guided them up to your chest. “You know you can touch me, right?” Yeosang nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. “I know,” he said softly. “It’s just all so new.”

You leaned over to press a kiss to his lips before sitting back up, slowly rolling your hips. You watched the way his eyes fluttered shut as you grinded against him before raising your hips slightly to reach between your bodies. Your fingers wrapped around his cock, lining the tip with your slit before you slowly sank down.

Yeosang let out a choked moan as your walls slowly swallowed his length. You resisted the urge to groan as he bottomed out, your pussy spasming around him as you both adjusted to the new feeling. “Yeosang?” you called softly, leaning over slightly and resting your hands against the mattress on either side of his head.

“Are you okay?”

You watched as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before he licked his lips and spoke in a slightly hoarse voice. “M’okay,” he answered, words slightly slurred. “Just give me a moment.” You nodded, dipping down to kiss him gently.

After a few moments, and a few more kisses, his hands moved from your chest down to your hips, urging you to move. “Okay,” he said, eyes fluttering open. “I think I’m ready.” You bit back a smile as you nodded, raising your hips enough for him to slide out of you until just the tip was in and then sank back down.

Yeosang let out another moan, his eyes shutting again as a shudder ran through his body. “I’m okay!” he said suddenly. “Keep going, please.” You did as he asked, setting a slow and steady pace. “How does it feel?” you whispered, lips hovering over his.

“G-good,” he answered in a shaky voice. “Just good?” you asked teasingly. “I think I can do better than just good.” You moved faster, hips bouncing on him as you took his cock deeper. Yeosang let out a hiss that sounded an awful lot like a curse but you didn’t dwell on it.

Instead you angled your hips, driving his cock into your cunt at a new angle and making you moan loudly. You felt his grip on your hips tighten, fingers digging into your skin as his hips now bucked up to meet your movements.

“How about that? Is that better?” you asked breathlessly. Yeosang nodded erratically, moans slipping past his lips as you brought both of you closer and closer to the brink.

“Y/N,” he gasped. “I’m not ready… I mean, I don’t want to — ” he fell silent but you were able to guess what he meant. “You don’t want it to end?” you asked, slowing your hips and rolling them instead. He nodded, hair sticking to his sweat covered forehead.

“Let’s change things up, shall we?” you asked. Yeosang opened his eyes slowly and looked up as you lifted off him, his cock slipping out of you. “What do you — ” he started as you grabbed his hand and pulled him up. “You take over,” you said, lying back against the mattress and parting your knees. Yeosang hesitated before moving between your thighs.

You were about to reach for him but instead, he took himself in his hand and guided the head to your fluttering hole. He didn’t need to be urged or guided as he pressed into you, letting out a moan as he slid back into you.

Before you could offer any guidance, he moved his hips, thrusting into you experimentally. You let out a gasp as he moved and spread your legs further. Yeosang was careful not to lay his weight on top of you as he continued to thrust into you.

“Am I… I mean… is this right?” he asked, his voice breathless as he looked down at you with those warm brown eyes. You nodded, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a messy kiss that was full of tongue. 

Your free hand found one of his and you took it, lacing your fingers with his as you felt the all too familiar sensation of your impending orgasm, the tension building in your body but before it could snap, Yeosang’s voice brought you out of it.

“I think I’m about to—”

“Do it,” you replied, cutting him off, your fingers curling into his hair. “Come inside me. Make me your wife,” you added, walls fluttering around his cock which drove him over the edge and he came with a groan, hips stilling as he released inside you. Your orgasm followed as he emptied himself inside you, making sure that you took every last drop with a few more thrusts before he finally stilled completely.

The next few minutes were a blur of panting, whispered praise on your end before Yeosang pulled his now soft cock out of you and rolled onto his back beside you. You lay there for a few more moments, eyes shut as you basked in the aftermath of your climax before you finally sighed and opened your eyes.

You sat up and turned your head to look at Yeosang who looked utterly spent beside you. Carefully you got up and walked out of the room to the kitchen to grab a cloth and wet it before returning to the bedroom. You wiped Yeosang down before yourself and then tossed the cloth aside before climbing into bed and pulling back the covers.

Yeosang muttered in protest as you pulled the linens up to cover your naked bodies. “Shouldn’t we put our night clothes on?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he started to drift off to sleep. You rolled over to face him and smiled, brushing his hair out of his eyes before pressing a kiss to his lips. “No,” you answered.

“We can sleep like this. Only we will know,” you added. You felt his arms encircle you, pulling your body closer as he muttered something that sounded like an agreement. Yeosang quickly fell into the embrace of slumber and you followed shortly thereafter, a dreamless sleep encompassing you both.

The calm before the storm.

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