#but shes there to soothe his agonies at least

[tiredmamaissy]

Alpha Sung Jin-woo helping me through my heat? Yes, pretty please.

🔞mdni🔞

alpha!jinwoo x lycan!shadow reader

Warnings: smut, p in v, masturbation, dubcon, heat cycle, dom jin, virginity loss, profanity, disgusting filth, creampie, alternating female + male povs, i.e your pov vs jins

a/n: a fair warning I was ovulating while I wrote majority of this ok? So it’s just kinda filthy I apologize. I’ve been thinking about Jinwoo helping us through heat for quite a while and this was the only way my brain could conjure up a situation to make that possible lol I also alternate povs between yours and then jinwoos so we get an idea of what hes feeling too, so I’m so sorry if this is a tad weird 😂

w/c: 7k

your pov 

Aside from my notably pointed ears and canines, there isn’t much else that sets me aside from the humans. Yeah, my hair looks silver in some lighting but my body is pretty identical to that of a human. Well, for the most part. I do have…extra features. 

I thought that being a part of the master's army would change those things—you know, being dead and all. Yet, things are mostly the same aside from the overwhelming urge to serve Master Jinwoo in every way possible. He’s the better king, anyways. 

My father comes nowhere near him. He made me suffer most months, throwing me in the dungeon in the basement of the castle and letting the moon shove a double edged sword through my body as I cried out in agony. 

I thought that was all over. 

One would assume that existing in this…form would mean no pain and discomfort, or even emotions and needs. But I feel everything like I would back in the castle with my shitty excuse for a father. 

But I just…never expected this. 

Another wave ripples through me, tearing me from my thoughts and bringing me to my knees. The other shadows take notice in this little bubble that we float in until the king summons us. Some turn their heads to look at me, while others turn their heads to ignore me. I suppose we all still have most of our free will. 

I clench my thighs together and will the cramp to radiate down and out my extremities. I seal my lips tight but a little whimper still escapes them, and it shocks even me. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It’s only been a few hours and it’s only getting worse. Just like it used to. At this point, father would be locking the door and throwing away the key.

But I refuse to let this happen in front of the others. At least in my dungeon I had the privacy to suffer and squirm and squeal on my own. I keep my focus on my bruised knees and force the muscles in my thighs to relax. Maybe I can get my own bubble or something. 

I am the only girl here. 

“What’s wrong with her?” I hear a whisper behind me, and the sound of shuffling beside me.

“She kind of…smells.” Another voice fires the words like an arrow through me. 

Not fair. I can’t control that part of this. 

I peek up through my lashes and catch a glimpse of the blockhead called Iron dramatically pointing at me in dead silence. He looks as if he just discovered new land or something. I open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind but an armored hand gives his wrist a satisfying smack. 

“That’s rude.”

It’s Igris, my favorite shadow in the army. Not that I really know the others anyways. He’s the quietest of the lot, and is seemingly master's second in command. I’m not exactly excited for him to see me like this, but there isn’t much I can do about it. I look away and curl into a ball to soothe the dull ache in my core. 

“What’s the matter?” Igris takes a knee beside me and looks me over. “Are you in pain?”

Gods, what do I even say? Nothing, that’s what. I give him a slight nod and bite my cheek to stifle the groan trying to escape from me too. 

“She smells good.” Iron speaks like a caveman, inching his way closer to Igris. Igris extends a hand behind him and halts Iron with a shove, forcing him to keep a distance from me. 

“Give her space.” Igris says sternly, a little louder than needed. I guess that message was for everyone. My cheeks heat up. Shit. I tuck my head down to hide my flushed face and that throb down there worsens. 

Igris tenses. I can sense it—he’s strung taut like a bow ready to snap. I can’t help but wonder if it’s me making him that way or if he’s just being his usual self. Regardless, I can’t bring myself to look back at him right now. Not when I’m making a little mess in my panties. No, that would be shameless. 

Igris clears his throat and his armour clanks as he lowers his face next to mine. “You are part Lycan, correct?” 

Igris speaks for only me to hear. It sounds as if there’s a hidden question disguised behind that one. Whatever it is, I don’t answer. He sighs slightly and allows the uncomfortable silence to pass between us. After what feels like an eternity, Igris pulls back and straightens his spine.

“I’ll inform the king.”

Suddenly we’re being sucked out of this bubble and my heated skin is on the cold tile. It feels like I’m sizzling against it’s surface, and the feeling is delectable. I wonder if my master will let me stay here for a while longer. Just until it’s all over. 

“Inform me of what?” Jin-woo stands before me, yet he’s looking at Igris beside him with his arms crossed over his chest. 

I feel like we’re in trouble or something, especially with him standing like that. It’s making me nervous but the sensation deep in me isn’t allowing the nerves to take over. I can’t get up even if I try. I tighten my grip around my knees and my fangs descend and throb in my mouth.

I hate this. 

“She’s…in pain.” Igris speaks with uncertainty in his voice, like if it were a question rather than a statement. Jinwoo shifts his focus on me, looking down at me with a cocked brow. I guess he’s never had issues with one of his shadows like this.

“Pain?” Jin-woo sounds almost intrigued. “What happened?”  

Igris doesn’t answer right away, he’s giving me a chance to speak for myself but I don’t take it. I’m feeling more embarrassed than anything right now. 

“I am unsure, master.” Igris finally says and I look up to meet the glowing eyes of my creator. 

Jinwoo is kneeling in front of me. The king himself, kneeling, before me. My face flames and my thighs rub against one another. I show my submission and look down, how dare I look into his eyes when he’s on his knees? 

“Speak.” Jinwoo commands me, and the instinct to obey rides me hard. I surprise myself when I glance over at Igris, and then back to my master. And just like that, Jinwoo waves Igris away and he fades into a black mist. 

“Forgive me, you’re my first female shadow. I know privacy is important.” My king speaks to me with his hand extended. He’s urging me to take it. Oh, gods. I obey and take it, and suddenly I’m being carried across the room and lowered onto what I can only assume is his bed. 

“Now, talk to me.” 

Now I have to say it. There’s no escaping it. He himself is demanding an answer, here and now. 

“Um…” I begin, breaking eye contact to look down at my feet. They feel heavier and I have way more color than usual. I almost look…alive. And with this annoying ache, I almost feel alive too. Jin-woo angles his head to catch my gaze and what feels like my heart bursts through my chest. 

“Just something…Lycan.” 

“Something…Lycan.” Jinwoo repeats slowly, nodding slightly as if he understands what I mean. “Right. So will it fix itself? I don’t know if the system has—”  

“Yes! Yes.” I answer him quickly, calming down when I realise that I’ve totally interrupted him. “It’ll go away in a couple days. I just need, uhm—” 

“You need…?” Jinwoo draws out the word as he waits patiently. 

“My own bubble.” I speak with feigned confidence. This is my chance and I’m determined not to let the other shadows see me like this.

“Your own…bubble?” 

Master seems confused. 

“Yes.” I say, and give my best smile. “Please.” 

His brows furrow. Master is definitely confused. 

“I need…privacy.” I use the word he did. 

“Ah.” Jinwoo nods, and looks at me with an unreadable expression. It’s that same expression someone makes when they're trying to solve one of those oddly shaped puzzles. “Okay. Understood.” 

Perfect. I’m getting my own bubble, and I don’t need to worry about anything else other than just getting through this shit show.

“But I can’t give you your own…bubble.” 

What? Didn’t he just say ‘okay’? That he understands? 

“Instead, you’ll stay here.” He motions to his room and for the first time I take it in. The grey paint on his walls. His wooden wardrobe. The flat screen t/v mounted to the wall. His bed that I’m sitting on. 

He wants me to stay here? 

“You said, what? A couple days? I have more than enough mana to keep you here.” Master speaks so casually about allowing me in his personal quarters. Unbothered, he stalks towards the door and reaches for the handle. He opens the door and lingers in the frame, back turned to me. “Take the bed. I’ll take the couch.” 

Absolutely not. 

“No! M-Master, you can’t. I will take the couch, o-or even the basement! I really don’t need much space. Even the floor is fine.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Jin-woo casts me a glance over his shoulder. “I’ll be tending to a few matters and won’t be here most of the time, anyways.” He walks through the bedroom door, collected and composed. “Make yourself at home.” 

The door closes softly behind him and I’m left alone in a room that smells like him. Every part of this place smells like him. His sheets. His pillow. Even the curtains are stained with his musky scent. 

I feel like I’m floating, being led by my nose like a predator to prey. 

And when I come to, I’m curled up in a pile of his laundry in his bed, stripped buck naked. I don’t quite remember how I got in this position, but I’ve never felt more comfortable in a nest before. All my previous nests have been made of my old blankets, and whatever linen my father throws down in the basement.

This one is perfect. And it smells exactly how it should. I tug a fat pillow towards me and embrace it with all four limbs, inhaling deep and holding it. Heat bubbles in my tummy and I moan into the pillow’s cushioned surface. It muffles it just right. 

My toes curl and my thighs grip the pillow, shimmying it closer and closer to the place where it aches the most. The pressure is sublime. I shove my hand between me and the pillow and my fingers strum at my slippery clit. I bury my face into the pillow and my eyes burn when that hot sensation zings through me. 

“Ahh!”

sung jin-woo’s pov 

I never thought I’d have to deal with one of my shadows being in heat. I got the notification as soon as I summoned her and Igris. 

Notification: [Lycan Shadow] is in heat. Do you want to help her? ☐Yes ☐No

Of course I chose yes. What kind of master would I be if I didn’t help one of my loyal shadows? It’s my responsibility. Plus, she’s female. 

But that doesn’t change the fact that I had no idea what it really meant to pick yes. I’m not an idiot—I know what a heat is, especially for a Lycan. I thought giving her some privacy would be enough but now the system seems to be urging me to do a bit more than that. 

Notification: [Lycan shadow] will peak in her heat in 8hrs35mins12secs. There may be a penalty if the quest isn’t completed. 

Quest? Penalty? 

I shift to my side on the couch—I don’t remember it being this tough. The annoying screen follows me and I wave it away. I don’t have time for this. Just keeping her here in this condition is draining my mana quicker than I expected. 

But a penalty? For what? 

I’ve kept her here, let her in my room, in my bed. Isn’t that enough? What more does she need from me? 

Her scent alone was enough to make my head spin. If I didn’t get out of that room when I did I would have lost my shit. I can’t say for certain exactly what would have happened, but she smells like something I’ve never smelled before. She smells like a feeling. 

She smells ripe. 

Fuck, what am I thinking? Ripe? Like a fucking fruit? I toss over to my other side and smack the pillow a couple times. I need to buy a new couch. Imagine if I let her take this piece of plywood that I’m laying on? Or the floor in the basement? I don’t even have a basement. I live on the top floor of an apartment complex. It makes things easier for me when it comes to Kaisel.

Anyways—is that what her father did? Throw her in the basement when her heat came on? I should’ve made that fucker’s death a slow one. 

I huff a sigh and spring up into a sitting position. I eye the floor, maybe it is the better option. I bury my face into my hands. I have a couple commitments for the hunters association tomorrow but those will need to wait for now. I need to deal with her first…however that may be. 

I wonder if she’s okay right now. She didn’t look great at all. And her aura was very off. She felt weak to me, like she was injured and fragile, despite her being a shadow. It made my protective instincts go haywire for a moment. I know Igris felt it too. Couldn’t he have taken the weight of some of this for me? They both exist on the shadow plane that she likes calls a ‘bubble’. 

Cute. Very cute. 

I see what she meant by needing her privacy, though. With a scent like that I can’t trust my soldiers to keep to themselves. I know Igris wouldn’t allow any funny shit to go down but females like their privacy. Jin-ah made me realize that long ago. 

I know that checking on her now would be an invasion of that. So why do I want to? This badly, too? There’s something deep in me urging me to get up and make sure she’s alright. It’s not just my protective instinct. It’s something more. Something primal. 

And the idea unnerves me. 

I stand and begin pacing in my living room to cool off a bit. But my head won’t clear. My thoughts go from obligations I have to get done, to her. Everything about her. The pink on her cheeks that appeared once I started pouring mana into her summoning. The shine in her silver hair when the moonlight caught it just right. The way she squeezed her thighs together and that scent of hers grew even stronger. I bet that’s where it’s emitting from. 

Fucking hell. Get your shit together, man. 

Whatever she’s going through is affecting me too. That’s clear as day. And now I’m standing in front of her door. My door. Well, it’s her door for the next couple of days. Fuck. What’s wrong with me? This is creepy behaviour. I lean in, tilting my head to press the shell of my ear to its wooden exterior. 

Very creepy behaviour. 

So why can’t I stop? I strain to listen, and my hand rests on the door handle. What am I doing? I rip my hand away from the metal and clench my jaw. 

“Ahh!”

Shit. Go in there and check she’s safe.  

No. She’s fine. She’s safe. She’s in my room. I’m here, guarding her. I need to calm down and get myself together, this is ridiculous. She’s a shadow for Christ sake—

“Mmm~” 

Oh? What was that? 

“Ngh!” 

Yep. That was definitely a moan of some sort. I wonder if I’m actually immune to heart attacks, because it feels like I might be having one right now. Or maybe all the blood is just rushing to the wrong head.

“Mmph!”

Christ. Forgive me. 

I palm my crotch, I can’t help it. My hard on hurts. My boxers have no stretch to them. 

Her little sounds are picking up now. They’re muffled but these walls are thin. I want to know what she’s doing in there to be making those noises. 

I need to know. 

My hand goes for the door handle again but I reign it back in. I force myself to step away from the door all together. I’m not doing this. This is a line that I won’t cross with a shadow. I take a few more steps back, turn and head straight for my bed made of concrete. I slip under the blanket and rest my arm over my forehead. 

I force myself to close my eyes and concentrate on getting some sleep and ignoring those delicious sounds coming from my bedroom. Right, ignoring them. I opt to listen to the electricity from the fridge, the ceiling fan, the clock—anything. But nothing distracts me from those sweet, sweet noises she’s making.

Fuck.

I’m as hard as this couch. Rock solid. I haven’t been this hard since high school for fucksake. I try to ignore the branch in my pants and turn over to go to bed. But nothing’s working. 

My hand slides under the band of my boxers and I grab my cock with a vice-like grip. I want it to go down—go away. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to admit what I’m feeling. 

My shadow is making me unbelievably horny. 

Her sounds. Her scent. 

God, help me. 

My hand moves, up and down. It hurts, so I loosen my grip. I can’t stop my own movements. Just the thought of her in lying in my bed possibly doing things to herself to be making those noises is driving me over the fucking edge. I look over at the door, it’s still shut. 

Good. I can’t have her catching me. This is already crazy as it is. I feel like I’m sneaking around, like I did when I was younger. My hand moves faster. Shit, I’m gonna come already. I can hear her moans from here now, they’re getting even louder and longer. Whatever she’s doing in my room is about to come to a finale. 

And fuck, so am I. 

“F-Fuck!”

“Oh, fuck.” I groan a little too loudly for my liking and explode in my cupped hand. 

I can’t remember the last time I came this fucking hard. I fumble into the kitchen and clean myself up, fixing my boxers and taking a moment to gather myself. I’m going to pretend like I didn’t just cum to one of my shadows and head to bed. 

I’ll deal with this heat thing tomorrow. 

— —

It’s been a few hours and I still haven’t slept. Nor have I calmed down either. I’m getting a little concerned. How many hours need to pass before I see a doctor about having a hard on again? It won’t fucking go down and it’s got its own heartbeat. But how could it when her scent is leaking through the cracks of the door frame? It’s literally seeping out the room in a light tangible mist. 

I don’t know how much more I can take. Her sounds are definitely not helping either. They’re so much louder and desperate—raw and primal. She is most certainly fucking herself in there. And I’d be the world’s biggest liar if I said I didn’t want to be the one in there fucking her. All she needs to do is say the words, and I’d shove my cock in her little cunt so fucking deep. 

I catch my breath. How long was I holding it for? I’m sweating like I’ve climbed a hundred stories and I swear my muscles are swelling. I slip my shirt off, it’s way too tight. The timer says there’s about two hours left until this peaks but I can’t last that long. I’ll have to take Kaisel out to get some fresh air or something. 

Or I’m going to fuck her. 

Shirtless, I grab a coat and bolt to the front door.

“...M-Master.” 

Fuck. She’s calling for me. Fuck. I need to leave now. 

“...oh!...please.” 

My hand grips the door handle and I watch myself turn it. Wait. This isn’t the handle to the front door. It creaks open and her intoxicating scent bursts out and hits me like a ten ton truck. My head spins and my vision blurs for a second. Shit. I blink to focus my eyes and—

Oh, god. 

She’s bent over on all fours in a bed of my linen and laundry, sticking her pussy up in the air. Right in front of my face. Presented on a silver platter for my enjoyment. Swollen and bright pink, and ultra glossy from her heat. 

Fuck, that is where this delicious scent is coming from. 

It looks like it’d be so warm and gooey inside. I need to find out–to be inside. My cock throbs at the thought and I adjust myself. She begins rocking back and forth, thrusting her pussy into the air and then onto my very soaked pillow. Has she been using that thing to get off this whole time? No wonder this has lasted for hours.  

I glance down at her face and the expression etched into her soft features sends a pang through my chest. She’s been suffering, unsatisfied and desperate for a proper release this entire time. I’ve left her here this long because of why again? I can’t remember, but it doesn’t matter. Because I’m going to make this all better.

“You called.” 

your pov

I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep tonight. Not that I’m necessarily surprised or anything, but it still sucks. King Jin-woo’s scent is making this way worse than it usually is. My body probably thinks that a male is here to mate–or whatever my aunt says about Lycans in their heat. Father never allowed that of course, so it quickly became just a bedtime folklore for me. 

But shit, now that it’s happening…everything is so much more intense. 

I rock back and forth. Harder. Faster. It aches, a constant throb of need, pulsing in my womb, in my pussy. I yearn to be filled. By him. By my master, my king. My body craves him, his scent. 

My head feels like it’s stuffed with wool and I can’t concentrate to form a coherent thought. A moan splits my lips and I’m head first into the pillow, arching my back and sticking my pussy in the air. I can feel how swollen I am, and I’m dripping everywhere—down my legs, onto his sheets, his blankets, his clothes.  

My hand mindlessly wanders between my thighs, again. Jokes on it, because nothing it or this pillow can do is going to make it go away. I’ve lost count on how many times I’ve rubbed at that little bump down there. But I know it’s enough to make it really puffy and sensitive. I feel my fingers press little circles into it, and my tears start flowing again. 

I’m crying like an idiot. Thank the gods that I’m alone. The sensation is so overwhelming. It’s too much yet nowhere near enough at the same time. My body is craving more than my fingers can give. Something big enough to reach deep inside me and get rid of that itch I can’t ever reach. My back bows even more and my toes strain and sink into the bed.

I’m presenting my pussy to nobody. 

Because no one’s coming. There is no male. 

My knees drag forward and I hardly bring myself to mount his pillow again. It’s wet from the times I’ve used it to make myself cum. I’m so sore and weak but I can’t help myself. This is truly pathetic, and I ought to be ashamed of myself. But I’m not. I’m really not. I want to call out for him, my master. 

My alpha. 

He’ll make this better, he’ll make the ache go away. 

“...m-master…alpha…” I hear myself croak and another cramp rattles me. “...oh! please...” 

I rock again, sinking my pussy down onto Jinwoo’s pillow and then shoving it back into the air. 

A gust of wind makes me shudder and I hump the pillow another time. 

“You called.” 

Masters’ deep voice envelops me like a cool breeze on a humid day. I didn’t even hear him come in. It feels like my ears are stuffed with cotton, too. My hips thrust my pussy even harder into the air. 

What’s happening to me? 

It’s never been this bad.

“Please.” I barely manage to get out. He should know what I’m asking for, he’s the male. My hips rut my mound into his pillow, pressing my hard, sticky clit into the wet fabric. His footsteps come closer, and I can feel his overpowering presence behind me. It’s so domineering, I feel like I’m suffocating.

“Please, what?” His voice is thick with restraint.

But why is he resisting?

“Please, help me.” I sob the last two words, dismounting his pillow and shuffling back until my knees are at the edge of the bed. “I can’t take it a-anymore, alpha.” 

“Alpha? That’s new.” He lets out a husky chuckle and his fingertips brush against my outer thigh as he positions himself behind me. I whine from his touch and my back sinks even lower. “I guess you could say that I’m your alpha, sure.” 

“Yes, alpha. Please, a-alpha. It’s h-hurting now.”

I’m blubbering. Nothing makes sense. Nothing feels right. I can’t think clearly, I can’t stop my tears, I can’t stop my body. I’m scared, but also excited and aroused. His fingers sink into the fat on my thigh and drag themselves up to my hip, seizing it with force. He tugs me onto him, pressing his clothed bulge against my swollen pussy. 

“Fuck, love. Your pussy is weeping.” He groans, gripping my other hip to hold me steady. I’m not going anywhere. I need this. “Is that how badly she wants me? Enough to cry?” 

He’s speaking about my pussy like it’s got a mind of its own. I mean, it feels that way right now. It’s throbbing for him, leaking clear beads of this sticky liquid it won’t stop making onto his pants. 

He needs to take those off, how will we do this if he doesn’t?   

Master yanks at my hips, ramming me back onto him suddenly–roughly.

“Answer me.” He growls and a sweltering heat floods my cunt. 

“Yes, alpha.” I whisper in anticipation, spreading my legs a little further to make space for his huge figure.

He is alpha. 

“Good girl.” I feel him pluck at the string on his pants and tug them down his legs. “Now, you want me to help you? Yeah?” Jinwoo’s voice is rough and it’s doing things to my body. His hand slips to my inner thigh and his fingertips barely brush against my puffy clit. 

“Mmm—mhm!” I hum and nod, chasing his fingers with my hips. Why is he teasing me? “Please al-pha.” 

“You know, you’re a well-mannered shadow when it suits you, princess.” Jinwoo lets out a subtle chuckle, arching over me until he’s cheek to cheek with me. His cock is prodding at me but in all the wrong places. He needs to be inside. 

“Say the words. And I’ll do it.” His voice lowers to a whisper and he’s putting more and more weight on top of me. “Tell me exactly how you need me to help you.”

I don’t understand how any of this is possible but I don’t care. I’ve never felt more alive than at this moment. 

“Inside. P-Put it inside.” I whimper shakily and my hips stutter to notch him at my opening. It’s becoming obvious that he’s doing this on purpose and I can’t understand why. “H-Hurry please!” 

“Tsk... Put what inside, love?” He tsks, and a menacing smirk tugs at his lips. His knees sink into the mattress behind me. 

“You, alpha. You.” I answer desperately, and he remains stockstill. “Your…cock.” 

“Oh. This?” I feel him tug down his boxers and his cock springs out. It’s hot against me, twitching and pulsing between my pussy lips. I nod like an idiot and my bottom lip quivers. 

Why is he doing this to me?

“Inside where?” His smirk morphs into a little grin and he lets go of my hip to guide himself exactly where he’s supposed to be. “Here?” 

Gods, yes. Yes. Right there.

“Come on. Tell your alpha.” Jin-woo growls the order. 

“Yes. Want you in my pussy! Ple-ase!” I cry out and back up on him, and I hear him chuckle again. What’s so fucking funny? He needs to hurry or I’m going to lose myself completely. 

“God, it's taken everything in me to hold back for this long, you know that? You’ve really been fucking with my head.” Master grumbles, rubbing his cockhead up and down along my slick opening. “Just keeping you here in this form is using most of my mana, princess. I don’t know how much patience I have left in me.”

In this form? What form? I don’t care. He needs to move. 

“Don’t you feel it?” He whispers, catching himself just right at my softest, most sensitive spot. He pushes, gently, slowly. It’s huge. Oh, no. No, he won’t fit. But he needs to. He has to. I spread myself even more, meeting this pressure half way. 

“Don’t you feel…alive? Or is your heat fucking with your head too much for you to notice?” 

What the fuck is he on about?

Smack.

Fuck. Oh fuck. Oh, fuck. 

A high pitched noise rings my ears and I think it might be me. My body tenses and my mind goes blank. The burn is divine but he might actually be splitting me wide open. He’s so big, so deep—so fucking deep. Pushing an exquisite pressure right into that tender, itchy part inside me. It hurts, but it hurts so good. I had no idea that this is what I’ve been missing for all these dreadful months.  

Jinwoo huffs next to my ear, stilling himself inside me. “You okay?”

sung jin-woo’s pov

Easy, Jin. Slowly. Let’s not break her.

I’m pumping mana into her so her form is more real than shadow. From her soft curves down to each strand of hair on her head—I know she’s feeling every little thing as if her heart were actually beating. I don’t think she’s realized though, she’s way too out of it. 

“Don’t you feel…alive? Or is your heat fucking with your head too much for you to notice?”

I attempt to breach her and meet pure resistance. God, she’s tight as fuck. I heave a breath and roll my hips forward, breaking that resistance little by little until I feel a sudden pop. She squeals and her pussy clamps down on my cock, fuck—not good. Not. Good.

The compulsion to sink myself all the way inside is entirely too overwhelming. I try my best to fight it but my hips stammer against my will and whatever strength I have left goes right into forcing my cock inside her tight little cunt in one hard thrust.  

Holy fuck, yes. 

Her pussy isn’t anything near what I imagined. It’s everything and more. And it didn’t give easy. She’s so warm and sticky and soft inside. She’s hugging every inch my cock so fucking tight. 

I grit my teeth so I don’t spray my load inside her. I need to calm down, keep a level head. Make sure I don’t do anything I shouldn’t—like spray my load inside her. But she’s so tight and tense, she’s going to snap my dick in two if she doesn’t ease up. 

She feels like a virgin.

Shit. I didn’t even consider the fact that this might be her first time. 

“You okay?” I huff, desperately trying to resist the urge to rut into her and work her little pussy open for me. If she is, I’ve probably hurt her. “Don’t tell me I just stole your virginity, princess.” 

She whimpers and nods her head into my pillow. Shit. I did. I should’ve been gentler—stayed in control. Eased her into it, stretched her first. 

“S-shh—‘m sorry. Does it hurt?”

She does a series of nods and shakes, like she’s entirely unsure about how she’s feeling right now. But her eyes say it all, they’re puffy and glisten from her tears. I make sure not to move at all, I’m as still as the statue that once killed me. 

“Breathe. It’ll stop hurting soon.” I coo and force myself to loosen my grip on her hips so I can trail my fingers along her spine. She backs up onto me and I glance down.

Dear God, why did I look down? 

Her pussy is stretched thin on my cock, it actually looks like it's sucking me in. Gratification swirls deep in my belly when the dangerous realization sinks in. 

I’m the first cock to ever be in this pussy. 

This cunt belongs to me, and only me now. A flame ignites within me that’s all consuming. It’s a feeling—a feeling of something that’s been imprinted into my being from the very beginning—an instinctual urge that I must satisfy. 

The urge to claim this female underneath me, to make her pussy mine and to stain her womb with my seed. 

Control yourself, Jin. Look away. 

I fling my head back because there’s no way that I can willingly tear my eyes away from the sight of her virgin cunt stretching so beautifully around my cock. I eye the popcorn ceiling and follow the blades of the fan as they spin. 

Focus, focus.

The urge to look again rides me. I grunt and fight it, I have more restraint than this. I clench my jaw. Fuck, I don’t know if I can hold out. I can feel her pussy relaxing and tightening around me. 

Then she rocks on me. 

Back and forth, back and forth. Like she did on the pillow that’s completely drenched with her cum. A low rumble comes from her, she’s growling her impatience, trying to fuck me. I look down and god, her pussy is quivering, drooling strings of her sweet, sticky nectar on my cock. 

She rocks against me harder and lets out a broken groan, and her thighs start to shake. I think she’s gonna come. Fuck yes, she’s about to come on me. 

“Don’t tell me. Is my little virgin princess about to come?”

My instincts dominate me, and my hips buck against my volition. I’m totally out of control. How in the world is she doing this to me? I'm behaving like a goddamn animal. 

Thrust. 

Please, God. 

Thrust. 

I can’t stop myself. 

She nods frantically and meets my brutal thrusts with desperation and need. I growl and piston my cock inside her pussy, hard. She moans loud and long, and her cunt squeezes me so hard that I get a headrush. Her pussy pulses, coating me in a thick slick. 

She’s cumming. Fuck, she’s cumming. 

“Yes, cum on my cock.” I encourage her, hunching over her petite frame. The skin on the back of her neck looks so soft—so delicate. “So pretty.” I want to bite it. Mark her so everyone will know that she belongs to me. What the fuck? No. I won’t do that. I can’t. 

But I want to. And my cock is already kissing her womb so why can’t I exactly?

She’s my shadow, that’s why. She’s not in the right frame of mind. That’s why.

But I’m not either. 

your pov

Whatever pain I felt is long gone, replaced by an overwhelming sensation of good, and right—how things should be. 

Bright white stars twinkle behind my closed eyes. Waves of raw pleasure smack into me and make my legs tremble uncontrollably. He’s filling me so good that I have no other choice but to take his cock and his every thrust.

“Yes, cum on my cock. So pretty.” His words are a hot mist against my neck and I feel his weight shift on top of me. 

Yes. Mount me. 

“Fuck, why do I want to bite you so bad?” 

I don’t know but he should. I show him my throat and whine low, spreading my legs for him to fuck me again. 

“Do it.” I moan, and my hips rock again. I want him to pound me, and then fill my empty womb—it aches. “Please. Bite me, fuck me.” 

He tenses behind me, resisting again. I don’t want him to. 

“I didn’t know such filth could come from a princess’s mouth.” 

Jinwoo’s dark, monotonous voice sends a spasm through my pussy. His fingers grip my jaw and he tugs my head back, exposing my throat. His hot tongue drags along my pulsating jugular and he shuffles from his knees to the balls of his feet. 

“I don’t understand exactly how you’re doing this to me, but I hope you can take it.” He growls a warning and I break out into a shiver. “Because I don’t think I can hold back anymore.” 

He pulls out of me, leaving his mushroomy cockhead notched right under my pelvic bone. The empty feeling makes me mewl and my hips search for him. 

“You’re so fucking noisy.” He huffs, annoyed, teeth scraping against my skin. “So goddamn needy.” His fingers tighten on my jaw, and he plunges his cock back inside me. I see more stars, more fireworks. I yelp out, and my tears trickle down my cheeks again. 

“Quiet, princess. The floor under us will think I’m doing something you don’t want.”

And then he bites me. 

He sinks his blunt teeth into me, locking his jaw when I begin to squirm from the feeling of being claimed—marked. The fingers wrapped around my jaw quickly slip down my throat and muffle my shriek. 

Gods, it’s too much. Too much. 

“Yes—yes!” I gurgle, and he bites down even harder. I’ll be bruised for weeks but that’s okay. 

He grinds into me, grunting while he’s shoving all he can inside as deep as it’ll go. He works me open, and I feel him deep in my tummy. I guess I’ll be bruised there too, and that’s definitely okay. I want to feel him in me for weeks, until the moon shows me her wicked face again.

Alpha releases me from his bite and he kisses the double crescent mark. I feel him pepper kisses down my shoulder, and he tastes my skin there too. He’s not moving anymore, just staying really deep inside me, hunched over me, breathing hard and loud. I whine loud and suckle on his fingers. 

“Mmm, fuck. Hush.” He snaps at me, breathless. “You want alpha to make it better?”

I nod again, my tears and saliva dribble onto his hand, down his wrist. I see his eyes glow bright in my peripheral vision. He’s going to wreck me and I can’t wait.

“Then be a good girl for me, won’t you?” He growls and smacks into me. 

Once, twice. Thrice. Again, and again. Brutally, cruelly. His thrusts are bloodthirsty, like he’s the beast and not me. He holds me firmly in place, his grip is unrelenting—I can’t get away even if I tried. I’m forced to take each unsparing strike and stroke. 

That heat whirls in my lower abdomen again, and I feel like a matchstick about to burst into flames. His cock is ramming right into that spot super deep, filling it, swelling it. I bite down on his fingers to stifle a guttural moan and he hisses, picking up his pace as punishment. I clamp down on his cock and—

I’m gonna come. 

“Not yet.” He grunts, pulling his fingers out of my mouth and shoving me onto my stomach. 

He yanks his cock out of me and strokes himself with one hand while he uses the other to toss me onto my back. Now he’s looking down at me with an intoxicated expression, bullying his thick frame between my trembling legs. He’s back on the balls of his heels, folding me in half, pinning my legs back so my knees graze against my pointed ears. 

“I want to see what you look like when you come, princess.” 

His cock prods at my sore pussy before he catches it just right and drives himself back inside me with an urgency. He lets out a depraved groan, one that makes me a little nervous, and I swear he goes even deeper than before. 

“M-Master…Al-Alpha…” I whisper as best as I can in this position and my bottom lip juts out. “‘s s-so deep.” 

“Isn’t that what you want, hm?” He uses his strength to push himself into me and his heavy balls press into me. I squeal from the pressure and jolt back but he keeps me where he wants me. “...what you need?” 

My head spins and I start sputtering, switching between mumbling and trying to catch my breath as his weight punches the air out of my lungs. 

“You look so fucked out right now.” He withdraws from me and plunges into me again, putting all of his weight on me. “So drunk on my cock. Yeah?”

I whimper shakily and electricity bolts up my spine. 

“Ooh, fuck. Let me see how pretty you look when you come, love.” He smirks and fucks into me hard and fast, staring deep into my eyes—taking my soul for a second time. “Come on—” He’s growling all his words, his hips striking me with purpose and intention, vicious smack after smack—coaxing my orgasm out of me. “Let your alpha feel your little virgin cunt.” My face screws and I sob when my release takes over me, sending my body into a frenzied convulsion underneath him. “Yes, that’s my pretty girl. Good girl.” He pants and presses his forehead into mine, and his movements falter. “Gonna breed you so deep, so hard, fuck—” 

Yes. Breed me. 

He lets out a sudden, loud grunt, and then I feel it. A harsh throb that isn’t mine, and a heat flooding deep inside me. His hips buck and rut in an uncontrolled manner, and he groans lengthily, darkly. His breath is heavy and fast, and he’s still looking me deep in the eye. I feel myself fade, the dim lights in his room darken some more and my breath won’t stop hitching. I’m satiated and so full—so happy. 

I’m exactly where I should be. 

sung jin-woo’s pov

 I watch her eyes unfocus and her eyelids droop—she’s slipping away. I ease up off of her and throw her leg over to her side, and tuck myself behind her. I stay inside her, making sure not a single drop of my seed is spilled. If I could plug her full of me, I would. My head is still quite foggy, but I can feel that it’s starting to clear now. Her scent is less potent, and her body isn’t as hot to the touch. 

Is it over?

Notification: [Secret Quest: A Lycan’s Heat] is complete.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Her heat has broken. I dismiss the blue screen and glance over to my bedside clock—6:47a.m. An orange hue illuminates behind my grey curtains, and my eyes grow heavier. My mana is dangerously low, but I’ll let it run out completely. 

I don’t want this to end just yet. 

[thelov3lybookworm]

My World

Day 1: Cool quiet.

Summary: Y/n's in labour. Azriel needs to stay calm.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 805

Warnings: labour ig? azzie being scared and sad cus yn is in pain :(

A/n: HAPPY DAY 1 OF @azrielappreciationweek YALL WOOHOOOO 🥳

all fics in the week will be like a series cus theyre all revolving around azzie and his daughter hehe but it isnt a series ig?

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Rhysand did not see the shift in his spymaster. Did not see the way he stiffened, the way his eyes went distant before focusing again, fist clenched.

He said no words, nothing to indicate he knew his mate was going into labour. And if the meeting with Keir had not ended when it had and Azriel hadn’t immediately winnowed away without preamble, Rhys wouldn’t have even known.

Even when Rhysand and Cassian followed their brother to his house on the outskirts of Velaris, welcomed by agonising screams of Azriel’s mate, Rhysand saw him stand quietly in the hallway.

Rhysand could not fathom being that cool, that quiet if he knew Feyre was in labour.

He had to give it to Azriel, the male was great at hiding his weaknesses. And Rhysand would have been convinced he was still composed had he not seen that in the dark corridor, light glinted off of the tears rolling down his cheeks.

Azriel still did not move, standing still against the wall with his hands folded behind his back.

It shook Rhys more than him pacing and losing his mind would have.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Azriel’s pov.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to curse himself out loud. After all, he was the reason his darling mate was going through the pain of birth.

Should’ve resisted when she said she wanted kids.

But alas, it was now too late to do anything but stand here helpless as he heard her loud cries of pain from their bedroom.

"I- Azriel! Az-"

It took all Azriel had in him to stand outside while his mate, his wife went through unbearable pain he knew he could not even fathom of. Having your privates stretched while you had to push out a literal being was something he knew his worst wounds would look like paper cuts in comparison.

It made him respect females more at the moment.

Through the bond, he felt flashes of hot agony and cold pain, but he was aware it was nothing, nothing compared to what his mate was going through.

The door opened the slightest bit, the worried eyes of an apprentice healer peeking out. "Spymaster? Madja said you can come in to soothe your mate."

Instantly, Azriel was hurrying inside the room, his eyes finding his mate lying on the bed.

Keep calm. Keep calm. Keep calm.

But how could he, seeing as the one person he could ruin the world for, was sobbing, tears running down her face in constant streams, aided by the sweat gathering on her skin?

He hurried over to her side, her palm instantly finding his.

"My love, I’m here."

She gasped in pain, nails digging into his palm.

Cool. Stay cool. It will be fine.

"Just one more push dear, then you can rest."

Azriel turned his head to Madja when she said that, relief spreading through his veins. At least the torture Y/n was going through would be over soon.

Y/n nodded, meeting Azriel’s eyes. Even while she was pushing out their baby, she found it in herself to offer him a weak smile.

Be calm.

Not even a moment after Y/n dropped back down on the bed with an exhausted sigh, loud cries filled the room. Azriel leaned down, placing his forehead against his mate’s. She smiled up at him, her eyes tired.

"No more babies. Y/n, I’m telling you, I cannot see you in pain."

Y/n had the audacity to pout. "But what if our baby gets lonely?"

He shook his head, kissing Y/n’s cheek. "I won’t let them get lonely."

He straightened when he heard footsteps approaching, lifting his head to look at Madja, who grinned at them over the baby’s head. "It’s a daughter."

Tears gathered in Azriel’s eyes as Madja leaned down, his daughter’s face coming into view for the first time. Azriel could not look away.

She’s beautiful.

Her eyes are so pretty.

She stared back at him with wide eyes.

Don’t cry. Stay calm. Stay quiet.

Fuck calm. Fuck quiet.

He let the tears fall as Y/n placed a hand on his arm, telling him to take his daughter. And even though he did not want to taint the pure soul made of him and his beloved, he extended his arms. Y/n had had the time of months to scold and train Azriel to not be scared of his own child.

The moment Madja stepped out of their room, Azriel let out an involuntary sob, accompanied by a look in his mate’s direction, who was crying too.

"I love her so much."

She nodded, giggling. "Me too." After a pause, she continued. "Hazel. That’s what we decided."

He nodded, unable to look away as he leaned down to press his lips to her tiny forehead.

"My world."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[heyimkana]

Frost Burned

AO3 Link

Pairing: Werewolf!Jinwoo X Vampire!Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers AU, smut, fluff, slow burn

Summary: Sung Jinwoo is an alpha wolf who absolutely loathes vampires after they murdered his pack in cold blood. But one night, as he is suffering from terrible wounds, a lady vampire visits him with a sultry grin, offering him a solution to take away his pain—for a price.

Content Warnings: blood sucking (lots of that, RIP jinwoo), swearing (he has a potty mouth here), endless banter and teasing, slight dry humping, mentions of murder

Sung Jinwoo was no older than twenty-five when he met her for the first time—an alpha who had just lost his entire pack.

It happened in the blink of an eye, the tragedy that would change him forever. It stripped the warmth from his smile, replacing it with something colder, harder. Bitterness took root in the place of hope, and stoicism masked the soul he once freely shared. There had been seven of them—seven wolves bound by blood and loyalty, living in quiet harmony—until the night before the full moon, when they were all slaughtered.

All but him.

It was an ambush. One he never could have seen coming. A group of vampires—ancient, merciless, and impossibly strong—emerged from the shadows with their teeth bared. They struck just before the moon rose when the wolves were at their weakest, when their bodies were preparing for the shift and their strength lay dormant. The older the vampire, the more powerful they become—and these creatures had centuries of power behind them. Weakened by the upcoming Snow Moon, Jinwoo and his pack never stood a chance.

They were massacred.

Among them was his younger sister, Jinah.

Since that night, Jinwoo has carried a hatred so deep it burns. He swore he would avenge them—that he would find the ones responsible and bury them with his own hands. But the vampires vanished without a trace, like ghosts. And so he remains, haunted by guilt and grief, choosing solitude over rebuilding. He refuses to bond with another soul, to form another pack, to take another alpha’s title by blood. He walks alone—both as a man and a beast—with only the cold moonlight to witness his sorrow.

Across the quiet stretch of the same town, a lady vampire moves through the night with practiced grace and poise in her step. Though she has walked the earth for centuries, she appears no older than him—perhaps even a couple of years younger. She hides her age behind beauty and elegance, behind secrets she’s gathered over lifetimes.

Much like Jinwoo, she has chosen a life of solitude—but not out of grief. No, she lives alone because she finds other vampires intolerable. Something about the way they toy with human lives grates against her. The cruelty, the callousness—the way they treat people as nothing more than cattle to be drained. Yes, she drinks human blood too. She must. But unlike the others, she prefers to think herself… kinder.

Before she feeds, she compels her victims gently, soothing their fears, dulling their pain. And if her hunger ever overwhelms her control—and it has, on unfortunate occasions—she ensures their death is not one of terror or agony, but pleasure. It’s the least she can offer. A small mercy, in a world where her kind rarely shows any.

She and Jinwoo have crossed paths before, more times than he would've liked. Never intentionally. Never by his choice.

He used to loathe her on sight, assuming that she was just like the other bloodsuckers who murdered to survive. He would’ve killed her the first time they met—torn out her throat without a second thought—if it weren’t for the maddening softness in her eyes. She looked so damn innocent. So pure. And so damn pretty, too, prettier than anything he'd ever seen. It infuriated him.

But she never bared her fangs at him. Not once. She only met his fury with amusement, those shimmering eyes dancing as if his anger was her favorite game. And somehow… that intrigued him. Still does.

She grins every time he snaps at her, pleased with herself for riling him up. She sees through his temper, straight into the part of him he hides even from himself. He hates her—he says that often, loudly, sometimes with claws out—can’t stand a strand of her stupid, luscious hair, but strangely, he never actually tries to kill her. He should, but he doesn’t (yet), so that’s… something.

Tonight, they meet again. Unintentionally, of course.

The woods stretch far beyond the reach of civilization, blanketed in silence and moonlight. She walks as if she owns the earth beneath her feet, a vision of ethereal grace, her long, beautiful white dress trailing like mist behind her. In contrast, Jinwoo stumbles through the shadows, dressed in nothing but his jeans, his bare torso covered in scrapes and bruises.

Another werewolf's claws have been etched deep into his chest, five slashes marring his skin, leaving fresh, angry marks. Blood slides down his abdomen in thick rivulets, staining his jeans. The searing pain numbs his senses, his handsome face drawn tight as his vision begins to blur.

Eventually, his legs give out. He collapses against the base of a tree, panting, struggling to stay conscious. He tries to will himself into healing, but it’s no use—the wound is too deep, his strength too far gone. Every breath is a battle.

Then, he hears it.

Footsteps.

They crunch softly over the undergrowth, too measured to belong to another werewolf, too calm to be a threat. Still, Jinwoo tenses, bracing himself. He’s too weak to fight. Too exhausted to run.

So this is how I die? he thinks, bitterly amused. He doesn't fear death. He just thinks it’s pathetic to die without being able to put up a fight.

But then…

It’s her.

Of course, it’s her.

Fucking great.

“Oh my,” she says, a mock grimace curling her lips. Her eyes sweep over him, taking in the blood, the torn skin, the way he slumps against the tree like a man moments from death. “You somehow look even worse than the last time I saw you. And I was sure that was rock bottom.”

Jinwoo exhales through his nose, long and pained. Suddenly, he feels ten times more exhausted just from seeing her. “Maybe if I lie here long enough, a cougar will come and finish the job,” he mutters to himself, thinking that it’d be less painful and humiliating than whatever it is he’s going to go through with her.

The vampire clicks her tongue, stepping closer with the slow, graceful steps of a predator that knows there's no need to rush. “Now, now. Don’t be so dramatic. Cougars are picky eaters.”

He glares at her through half-lidded eyes. “Guess that makes two of you.”

She lets out a soft laugh, unbothered. “Oh, no. I’m starving, darling. You’re just not my type.”

Jinwoo lifts his head, his eyes sharp despite how battered he looks. For a split second there—before she opened that damn mouth of hers—he actually felt a flicker of relief at seeing a familiar face. But then reality set in and his frown returned like a reflex. She’s the last person he wants to see in this state, knowing full well she’ll waste no time ridiculing him for it. “Not in the mood to hear you run your mouth tonight, bloodsucker.”

“Well, unfortunately for you, puppy, I am in the mood to run my mouth tonight.” She stands tall above him, one hand cocked on her hip, her smirk all too pleased. “Half-naked again, I see. Honestly, I’m amazed you’re not in jail yet. Must be nice—having a face pretty enough to get away with indecent exposure.”

She always does this—flirts like it’s a hobby, like he’s just another toy to poke and prod for her amusement. It used to fluster him. Now, it just ignites his irritation. A slow burn in the back of his throat.

“You’re a weird little lady, you know that?”

And he means it. She's the only one who keeps coming back, undeterred by his snarls or his barbed words. Every time they meet, she’s there with that infuriating grin, acting like they’re old friends instead of natural-born enemies. He can’t understand why she’s never afraid of him. As a centuries-old vampire, she’s powerful—probably even faster than him—but one bite from an alpha like him could end her. Still, she treats him with soft head pats and teasing nicknames like he’s just a… well, a puppy. 

No matter how many times he pushes her away, she always comes back. Night after night, like clockwork—teasing him, riling him up, driving him absolutely insane with every damn word that leaves her mouth. And God, he fucking hates her for it.

But when she’s not around… The night stretches on endlessly. Quiet. Empty. Lonely.

Not that he’d ever admit that out loud. He’d rather bleed out under this tree first.

“Oh? That’s the first time you’ve ever called me a lady,” she says, visibly pleased, latching onto the smallest hint of civility in his tone. It's a skill really, for her to always find positivity in all the negativity he throws. “Don’t tell me I’ve finally charmed you?”

Jinwoo exhales a sharp breath of irritation. “What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off somewhere draining some poor human dry?”

“I did that already, thanks for asking. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out in the woods, running naked with your tongue hanging out?”

He knows she’s only trying to rile him up. She always does. And yet… beneath the annoyance, there’s something oddly comforting about her presence. Familiar. Predictable, in the strangest, most infuriating way. Like reconnecting with a friend you’ve always wanted to strangle.

“Shut up,” he grumbles. “I’d wipe that stupid grin off your face if I weren’t half-dead right now.”

She laughs, low and delighted. “Promises, promises.”

She’s tempted to keep the banter going, but curiosity gets the better of her. “So? What happened to you this time? Did some cat try to beat you to death?”

He ignores the jab, glancing down at his wounds, face twisting in a grimace. The pain cuts through him like a thousand hot needles with every breath. “Ran into another werewolf,” he mutters, voice dry. “We had a... disagreement.”

“Oh?” She tilts her head, lips twitching. “Let me guess. You lost and ran off with your tail between your legs?”

He snarls. “I killed him.”

That wipes the smirk from her face—for a moment, anyway.

“You werewolves are always so… barbaric,” she sighs, folding her arms over her chest. “You know, you should learn a thing or two from vampires.”

Jinwoo barks out a laugh, an ironic sound. “Oh, yeah? Like what? How to suck people dry and still act like you’re better than everyone else? How to be as arrogant and insufferable as you are?"

She keeps her pompous smile intact, unfazed by his harmless bite. “For starters, how to be attractive and elegant. I mean, look at me.” She gestures to her immaculate appearance. “Then look at you. You’ve got, what? One pair of jeans to your name?”

He scoffs, but there’s a flicker of amusement behind his eyes. “Right. And how about you learn a thing or two from werewolves? Like how to be brave and fierce instead of being a coward and a fucking parasite to survive?”

“Oh, honey, I am brave and fierce.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder, her pointy teeth peeking out from behind her grin. “You just think I’m not because I look like your sweet, delicate, out-worldly beautiful little princess,” she croons, her smile embodying the innocent charm that most men dream of seeing in a woman.

Jinwoo raises an eyebrow at her words. He’s a little taken aback by her confidence, but he tries to maintain his facade of indifference. “You don't look terrible in the eyes, I’ll give you that, Princess,” he says the word like it burns his tongue. “But I don’t think it counts as brave if you only hunt at night and run away at the first sign of sunlight.”

“Touché,” she shrugs. “Well, at least I don’t hump a fucking tree during a full moon.”

His cheeks flush red at her words, his eyes flashing with annoyance and anger. He growls.

“Mm, growling. What an intelligent response.”

He rolls his eyes at her sarcasm. “We werewolves can’t help ourselves around a full moon. You know that. You’re just trying to get on my nerves.”

She titters, “I’m just surprised you didn’t deny humping a tree.”

“Oh, shut up.” His blush deepens, creeping from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “You know damn well that’s not true.”

“True or not,” she says with a sly grin, “it doesn’t change the fact that you’re just a beast with no control over your instincts. Unlike me.” Her smile softens then, and her voice lowers just a touch. “But enough about that, love.” She crouches in front of him, sitting gracefully on her heels. Her gaze shifts, focused now—not mocking, but strangely gentle—as she scans the angry slashes carved across his chest. “Those are nasty wounds,” she murmurs. “They’re not healing. Why?”

Jinwoo tenses under her stare, and immediately regrets it. Pain flares across his torso, sharp enough to make him suck in a breath through his teeth. Still, he doesn’t flinch away. “Got them from another alpha,” he grunts. “They take longer to heal. Different kind of venom in the claws.”

She hums thoughtfully, then—without asking—reaches out. Her fingers trail lightly across his skin, cold and delicate against his overheated body. He hisses, part instinct, part alarm. “What are you doing?”

“Relax. I’m just trying to see how deep they go.” She doesn't necessarily need to touch him to figure that out, but there's this desire within her that she cannot ignore. After all, it's rare to find him so vulnerable like this, grimacing like a child at the slightest touch. He almost seems… cute. “Does this hurt?” she asks softly, her fingertips grazing the deepest of the wounds.

Jinwoo bites down hard on his lower lip to muffle the groan clawing up his throat. Shame burns hotter than his blood. He’s never been this exposed in front of anyone—especially not a vampire, and especially not her. Every inch of him is on display, from the taut muscles of his abdomen to the sharp cut of his hips. And she… She doesn’t even blink, damn her.

He nods once, jaw tight. “It… Yeah,” he admits hoarsely. “Of course it hurts.”

His gorgeous body is a sinful temptation, but the scent of his blood triggers her senses more than the growing lust she holds for him. She thought she could chase the thoughts away, but being this close to him, it’s beginning to grow unbearable for her. “Listen, Jin,” she starts, her tone losing its usual teasing edge. “I can’t heal you. But I can take the pain away… if you want.”

His eyes narrow at her offer. “And what? You’re gonna bite the pain away, bloodsucker?”

Her nose scrunches in distaste, though her fangs press lightly at her lip from the effort of holding back. “Can we be civil for one second, please? And stop calling me bloodsucker. I’ve told you my name before, haven’t I?”

“I don't give a damn about your na—ah!” He jerks forward with a ragged gasp as her fingers brush a particularly raw edge of the wound. The sound shocks them both—more intimate than either of them expects. Her eyes flick to his, wide, while Jinwoo bears his teeth in frustration and pain, humiliated that the noise even escaped him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snaps, baring his teeth menacingly as he dwells in his chagrin. 

“I didn’t know you could sound like that,” she chuckles, her smirk dripping with filth. “Cute.” But when his nails lengthen into claws, her amusement falters. She raises her hands in mock surrender, though the gleam in her eye never fully fades. “Hey, hey, calm down,” she coos. “I was just messing with you, darling. No need to shift just because you moaned like a girl.” Her grin sharpens, back in full force. “I like it, though. Would love to hear more.”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“Geez. From shut up to I’m gonna kill you—pretty girls just can’t catch a break these days, huh?” She exhales with feigned dramatics, but instead of backing off, she leans in. Closer. Close enough that she could straddle him if she wanted to. (And she wants to.)

“I’m offering you a friendly bargain here, puppy,” she murmurs, brushing her knuckles along his cheek.

“Don’t touch me,” he tosses his face to the side, glowering. “And don’t call me puppy. I’m not making any deal with you, bloodsucker. Just fucking leave me alo—ngh—” The pain hits again. His breath catches, a guttural groan escaping before he can stop it. His fists clench in the dirt.

“Easy now,” she says, far too pleased. “You don’t want to get too worked up.”

“And whose fault do you think that is?!” 

“Not mine you’ve got the temper of a toddler.” Her grin widens. “And, Sweetheart, trust me—you need my help.”

“I’d rather die.”

She rolls her eyes. “And I’m the drama queen?” A pause. Then a look sweeps over him—sharp, unreadable. “You keep pretending you’re strong, but all I see is a stubborn idiot bleeding out in the woods. Although...” she tilts her head, lips curling, “I won’t lie. There’s a charm to it. I find pathetic men to be... endearing.”

“You’re a fucking pervert— ”He flinches again, jaw clenched tight as another wave of torture rips through him.

“Well, you’re a masochist for enjoying pain so much."

He ignores her, trying to loosen up. The more his vexation gets the best of him, the more pain he has to endure. “Damn it.”

“It hurts that bad, huh?” She winces in sympathy but does not feel a sliver of remorse for contributing to his suffering. “The offer still stands, you know. I can get rid of it. Everything, all at once. But you have to trust me.” Her sweet, silvery voice rings wonderfully in his ears, but he can't seem to do what she asks of him just yet. He has no choice but to try, however, once she boldly closes the distance, rising on her knees until she looms above him, her body a breath away from his.

His eyes stretch in surprise at the sudden proximity, his face tipped back to meet her gaze. “Y-You—” He’s cut off by the sight of her irises turning a deep, brilliant crimson. They glow like embers, too bright, too beautiful—like stars set on fire.

“Pay attention, Sweetheart,” she purrs, then she bares her teeth, drawing her lips back slowly like a curtain. Her fangs lengthen, gleaming like polished ivory beneath the pale moonlight. A shiver dances down his spine. “We’ve got toxins in our bite, you see,” she says, voice honey-sweet and laced with sin. “Like a drug. One bite, and I can flood your veins with it—numb the pain, send your head spinning. If I drink long enough...” her smile turns wicked. “I can take you to cloud nine. If you know what I mean.”

He jerks his head away, scowling through a flush that’s far too obvious. “A-As if I’d let you drink from me.”

“Oh, you will.” She cups his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Because you need it. You're not fooling anyone with your tough act, Jin. I know you're begging for relief.” The distance between them is almost nonexistent. Had she been human, her breath would be dancing over his lips by now. “And I’m ready to give it to you, but, of course”—her lips trail lower, her smirk brushing the shell of his throat— “There will be a small price to pay. You know I don’t do favors for free... not even for a handsome boy like you.”

The little scarlet that blooms on his cheeks betrays the venom he utters through clenched teeth. “I'm not a boy.”

“Maybe not, but you're definitely handsome,” she replies shamelessly, sending a deeper flush across his cheeks. Her hand leaves his face only to slide downward, one finger tracing his skin in a slow, delicate path from his collarbone to the underside of his chin. She tilts his face upward, looming over him like a predator savoring the moment before the bite. Her smile widens as she hears the frantic thrum of his heart beneath her fingers.

“Although I’m sure your werewolf blood will taste disgusting, it’s the only thing you have to offer... unless”— she pauses to build anticipation, letting her lips trail to his ear, her wicked smirk brushing against its edge—“there’s something else you’d like to give me?”

His claws sink into the earth below, trying to chase away the thrill that suffuses him with every word she speaks. “What…” he croaks out, though the implication in her words is obvious. “What do you mean?"

She smiles angelically despite the salaciousness in the next line she utters. “I’ve heard rumors about wolves like you…” Her lips hover at his skin, her whisper silk-wrapped sin. “All that raw stamina. That wild, uncontrollable side. Makes me wonder just how true they are.” Her mouth itches to capture his lobe and suckle it between her teeth, but she refrains. Judging from his reaction, he's already close to losing his mind even without her doing so.

“Tell me, Jin, are you as… untamed as they say?” She purrs softly in his ear, bestowing the slightest of kisses on the skin below his ear. “If I had you for just one night… Would you lose control for me? Would you claim me like the beast you really are?”

The veins in his throat protrude as he tries to rein in his desire. She’s like a siren, awakening something primal within him. His body trembles with the effort to hold back, his throat working around a growl. After a few agonizing seconds, he shoves her back by the shoulders—enough to breathe, not enough to hurt her. His face is blazing. “Fuck you.”

“That's the idea, darling.” She curls her fingers around his wrist, her grip like steel in velvet. Then, with breathtaking audacity, she presses into the crook of his neck. “I want you to fuck me.” Lust laces her whisper, heavy and electric. Her icy cold lips feel soothing on his warm skin, and at the same time, thrilling. “And in return… I’ll take away your pain. Every last trace of it. Not a bad deal, hmm?”

“God—damn it,” he mutters through clenched teeth. The pain is unbearable. But the temptation…

He can try and mask it all he wants, but she can smell it. His arousal, hot and heady, bleeding through his resolve like smoke through cracks. 

Jinwoo looks up at her, flushed and panting. “Are you... really asking me that?”

Honestly, she wasn’t. It started as a joke. But seeing him like this—flushed, desperate, curious—makes her wonder if it has to be a joke at all. “Would you say yes if I were?"

He turns mute, taking a moment for himself. Whether he’s trying to detect her lies or to ruminate on his options, she can’t tell. 

She giggles, delighted by his silence. “Your heart’s beating like crazy. I’m surprised. Who knew the big, bad wolf was a virgin?”

He turns bright red, redder than he’s ever been. ”I’m—I’m not a virgin!”

“Wouldn’t bother me if you were,” she simpers. “In fact…” Her voice dips, syrupy and slow. “It makes me want to ruin you even more.”

“You—” He abandons the sentence midway, exhaling harshly, flustered and impatient. “Can you not run your damn mouth for one second?”

She tilts her head, lashes fluttering. “Should I use it instead?” Her smirk deepens. “You still haven’t answered me, you know. I can make you feel so good with my mouth. My teeth, I mean.”

Jinwoo narrows his eyes, struggling to compose himself. “Why should I trust you? That toxin of yours could be bullshit. For all I know, you just want to turn me into your personal blood bag.”

“Maybe I do.” She shrugs playfully. “It’s your call, wolfie. But I won’t wait forever.” 

She taps his nose with one finger, light as a feather, then rises to her feet with maddening grace. The midnight wind catches her hair as she turns away, her dress swaying in the dark.

“Enjoy the pain,” she sings softly, and begins to walk.

Jinwoo watches her go, jaw clenched, heart racing. The pain claws at him from the inside. And now that her touch is gone, the cold sinks deeper into his bones.

He remembers the look on that poor bastard’s face when she bit him—not agony, but ecstasy. Disgust had been his first reaction. But somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, curiosity had stirred. He couldn't help but wonder how it would feel like to be under a vampire’s—no, not that—her mercy.

And now, temptation screams louder than ever.

He hesitates. Then—

“Fuck it,” he growls, his pride fracturing. “Hey—wait.”

A devilish, victorious grin blooms on her lips, though she quickly veils it behind a mask of feigned innocence. She pivots, eyes wide, voice sweet. “Yes?”

He meets her gaze, something volatile swimming behind his eyes—caution, yes, but also hunger. “You’ll take away the pain, right? You’ll make it feel like... like I’ve downed ten bottles of alcohol?”

“Oh, honey.” Her lips curve up beautifully, sinfully, as the light in her eyes sharpens and flares in delight. “I’ll make you feel like you just had the best orgasm of your life.”

Fire fills his cheeks, but he veils it with a scoff. “You’d better be right about that, bloodsucker.”

“I don’t tell lies, Sweetheart,” she says—another lie, but he’s too worn out to challenge it.

She saunters closer, crouching to meet him at eye level, her voice dipping into something intimate. “Now that my puppy is being honest and demanding… I need a promise in return.”

She can hear his heartbeat quickening just a tad faster in anticipation, but on the outside, he scowls. “What is it?”

“I need you…” Her gaze gleams as she brushes her fingers along his cheek, keeping him imprisoned. “To be a good boy for me.” 

Her thumb toys with the corner of his mouth, and he freezes—just for a second.

“No biting. No growling. No talking back. I want manners, obedience. I want you to listen.” Her voice lowers into something satiny. “Can you do that for me, darling?”

Scarlet creeps across his face, fury and arousal tangled in a knot in his chest. He looks at her with a conflicted expression, her request going against his very nature. He’s a werewolf, for fuck’s sake, and she’s a goddamn vampire. He’s supposed to be tearing her heart out instead of wagging his tail for her, and yet… the thought of putting on a restraint around himself and handing her the leash… isn’t necessarily too bad.

As an apex predator, his pride and instinct won’t allow him to bend his knees and succumb to anyone’s wish, but something about her makes him want to let loose, to embrace his vulnerability, and just be Sung Jinwoo, the lonely man who secretly seeks company, who craves for affection, who wishes to find someone who can accept both the fragile part of him and the beast inside him. 

Maybe he’s tired of fighting. Tired of aching. Tired of being alone.

Maybe the thought of someone else taking the reins—even a devil like her—feels more like relief than defeat.

And right now, with pain burning through him and pride slipping between his fingers, that relief sounds like salvation.

“Baby,” she prompts, sweetly chiding. “I’m asking you a question.”

“Enough with the pet names,” he curtly utters though the rasp in his voice betrays him. “Fine. I’ll try my best not to kill you tonight.”

She doesn’t smile. Not this time.

Instead, her hand closes around the side of his neck—not rough, not painful, but firm. Her eyes shift, voice laced with command. “That’s not what I want to hear.”

The sudden dominance in her voice catches him off guard, leaving a trail of chills. “I’ll…” His pulse hammers high in his chest, eyes trapped in the intensity of hers. “I’ll behave.”

Her voice softens again, but her grip does not. “Promise?”

His throat bobs with a hard swallow, tension winding tight beneath his skin. Something unfamiliar, something exciting, swells inside him. “I promise.”

And just like that, she effortlessly slips back into her playful theatrics. “Well, aren’t you an adorable little puppy?” She grins, scratching him below his chin in mock affection. 

Jinwoo pulls back with a snarl, almost baring his teeth, but he chokes back his threat before it can take form. A promise is a promise.

She watches him wrestle with himself, amusement plain on her face. “That’s a good boy.”

Then, without hesitation, she straddles his lap, settling atop him like a queen claiming her throne. Her fingers ghost down his chest. Her lips part just enough to let her tongue wet her bottom lip.

“Let’s begin, shall we?”

***

Jinwoo bites back a gasp at her touch, his muscles coiling as she splays her palm on his chest. It feels like ice, he thinks, amidst the clamorous sound of his thundering heart. She speaks with the same quiet surprise he feels, whispering, “Your skin’s burning hot,” her touch gentle and reverent as her hand glides over his chest, then down to trace the sculpted ridges of his abdomen, as if memorizing him by feel. 

She avoids his wounds with practiced ease, but he wouldn’t have minded if she touched them now—not when this is what her hands feel like. Her touch feels so intimate, so—

“Soothing,” she whispers, unknowingly echoing his thoughts, both of them caught in the same feeling. She smiles, almost in wonder, paralyzing him with her beauty. She reaches forward to pull him into an embrace, resting her face in the crook of his neck as she nestles herself on his lap. “Your body feels so warm against mine… It’s nice.”

Blood pools on his face, rendering him speechless. He’s never been this close to anyone. Not like this. “What are you doing?” he manages, the edge in his voice dulled into something shy, uncertain.

“I’m hugging you,” she answers matter-of-factly, eyes closed as though she’s found peace.

“I know that. I mean—” Jinwoo jolts, his nails scraping the ground below when he feels the tip of her nose brushing against his collarbone. “W-why?”

She lets out a low, sultry purr, her arms twining tighter around his neck as the sound pulses against his ear. “Because it feels good,” she says simply, truthfully, and he hates that he can’t argue.

Not only does her body feel perfect against him, fitting him like a missing puzzle piece, her scent is wonderful, too—subtle and lovely, something undeniably hers. He hadn’t noticed it before when there was a distance between them, assuming that she carried a similar scent to all the vampires he’d encountered. But now that she’s up close, he finds there’s something else beneath it, something sweet and pleasant, and so damn intoxicating. A scent that he thought would perfectly describe her as the human she once was.

He breathes her in and nearly drowns in it. Everything about her feels right.

He’s derailing, losing his mind.

“Don’t be so tense, Jin,” she murmurs, kissing the edge of his jaw. Her lips are soft, barely there, but they send lightning through his veins. “You’re going to make me nervous.”

Liar.

She’s never nervous. She’s composed, confident, while he’s one stray breath from falling apart.

An unfamiliar warmth stirs in his belly as he dwells further in the intimacy. He needs to stay focused.

“J-Just get on with it," Jinwoo mutters, desperate for a shift—any shift—from this unbearable closeness. But then her tongue glides against his neck, slow and precise, tracing the vein beneath his skin.

His whole body jolts.

“Be patient, Sweetheart. I’m doing my best to be gentle,” she whispers, her voice a tender promise. 

She lowers her mouth to his chest, scattering kisses over his skin. Each one is calculated like she’s laying a spell, and when her lips brush the edge of a wound, he jerks, his hand catching in the fabric of her dress. “Fuck.”

She pulls back, lifting her gaze to his. “Does it hurt?”

“N-No,” he breathes out raggedly, casting his face to the side, flushed. “It’s just… It feels weird.”

She watches him for a beat, her expression softening, layered by a genuine concern. But then she sees it—his flushed face, the vulnerability in his eyes—and her smirk returns, full of mischief. “A good weird or a bad weird?”

He glares, flustered. “Just weird. Are you going to bite me or not?”

She leans in, her voice tantalizing. “Want me to put my mouth on you so badly, huh?”

“Oh my God, can you not—” he groans, feeling ashamed for her sake. “Can you not say things like that?”

“I’m sorry.” She is absolutely not sorry. She drags her face back to his chest, her grin audible in her voice. “I just love making you blush.”

“I’m not blu—ah—” A deep, involuntary moan slips from his lips as her tongue grazes his sensitive bud, the delicate touch sending waves of heat through him. 

“And moan,” she finishes with a laugh. 

A low, menacing growl rumbles from his chest, his face burning and his teeth bared. He knows he shouldn’t have done that—not after promising her he’d behave—but fuck, that was so embarrassing.

“Get. On. With. It.” 

He should shove her off. Regain control. Say something to pull himself back together. But instead… he just sits there.

Letting her touch him.

Letting her own him.

And worst of all—he doesn’t even want to stop her.

The thought slams into him like a freight train. No. No fucking way. There's no way he’s enjoying this.

...right?

He barely has time to spiral further before her tongue presses to his wound. His breath stutters. The tingling sensation spreads like wildfire, blooming outward from every spot she touches.

Jinwoo clenches his fists so tightly his knuckles crack, jaw tense as he tries—and fails—to stop his body from trembling.

Damn it. Am I really—?

But she pulls away from him before he can finish the thought, and his breath catches—ragged and uneven. His mind reels, thoughts spinning out of grasp.

“W-what?” he stammers, eyes locked on hers, searching for meaning in the flicker of surprise etched across her face. “Something wrong?”

“Your blood…” Her voice is barely audible, her eyes locked on his chest, dazed. She licks her lips, slowly, languidly. “It’s not as disgusting as I thought it would be…”

“Huh..? What do you—ngh—” His head drops forward, jaw slack as a shudder runs through him the moment her tongue grazes his wound again. “W-wait—” he breathes, voice shaky, too weak to stop her, too consumed to mean it.

She doesn't wait. Doesn't even pretend to stop. She keeps going, licking at the wound with torturously slow, stimulating strokes. There’s a sensuality to it, a quiet reverence that makes his head spin. Each pass of her tongue stokes the ache inside him—of pain, of longing, of something far more dangerous. She laps at the wound, savoring every trace she can reach.

This feels… Jinwoo trembles, his lids shut close as he suffers through both pain and pleasure. So weird…

A soft moan breaks free from her as the rich taste of his blood spreads across her tongue. He hears it. Feels it. And it wrecks him.

She draws herself back again, her lips stained a darker shade of red, her voice heavy with wonder. “So sweet…” she murmurs, voice thick with yearning. The crimson gleam in her eyes deepens, shimmering with desire and hunger. Her lips part in a delicate, seductive smile, fangs catching the light. “You taste divine, Jin.”

He sees it—the shift in her eyes, the way his blood awakens something darker, something primal within her. A monster, barely restrained. He knows he’s vulnerable, too weak to defend himself if she were to lose control. And yet… there’s no fear. No panic. Only the sharp thrill of anticipation humming in his veins. He’s not afraid of what she might do—he’s eager for it. Eager to see how far she’ll go.

How far she'll ruin him.

She places her hand on the side of his neck, her digits lightly tracing over his pressure points. “I’m going to bite you here,” she says, her voice above a whisper. And she doesn’t breathe, not anymore, but at this moment, clouded by her immense longing for blood, she sounds breathless. “Is that okay?”

Jinwoo swallows thickly, his heart pumping more blood through his veins. “D-do whatever you wa—”

Her fangs puncture his flesh before he can finish. He draws a short gasp, his mouth falling open in a silent groan as shock zings through his entire body. The pain is blinding for a moment, like a pair of knives tearing into his soul, but then…

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Something shifts. The agony morphs into bliss—hot, heady, all-consuming. His muscles go slack, eyes fluttering back as a haze of pleasure wraps around his bones, and under the moon’s quiet gaze—bearing witness to the way his hardened facade crumbles beneath her bite—something inside him breaks.

Or maybe it’s something being rebuilt.

A faint smile ghosts across his lips.

This feels…

So fucking good.

“Mmph,” she moans as hot blood floods her mouth, her fangs sinking deeper into his flesh. She meant to be gentle—she swears to every god and devil that she did—but nothing could have prepared her for this. She’s never tasted werewolf blood before, and it’s unlike anything she’s known. It shatters every belief she holds.

If her bite is a drug, then his blood is the overdose. It’s the addiction that ruins her—sweet, searing, intoxicating. She drinks straight from the source, where it runs the hottest, the sweetest, where he feels most alive beneath her mouth. And she can’t stop. Can’t think. The craving claws through her with every pulse of his heartbeat against her lips.

“Suck you dry,” she confesses out loud, her eyes hazy with her desire as she laps at his skin. “You taste so fucking good, I want to suck you dry, Jin.”

She moves down to his shoulder and pierces the skin there, not holding back. The pain must be searing, but she can’t stop, not even to slow down for a moment.

The pain from her fresh bite chars through him, sharp and consuming—but laced with a pleasure so intense it leaves him trembling, breathless. It’s as if every nerve in his body is being lit up at once, electric and overstimulated, yet somehow numbed at the rims by the haze she’s pulling him into. His eyes flicker open, dazed and unfocused, fixed on the sky above as the world blurs around him.

“Fucking hell…” Jinwoo utters in a strangled whisper before a small chuckle follows. “This is… so much better than alcohol…” 

She would’ve laughed cockily if she were in the right state of mind, but she isn’t. She’s just as intoxicated as he is, her sanity thinning from the heat of his skin and the taste of his blood, thick and sweet on her tongue. Her hands grip him like he’s prey, like letting go would kill her. She sucks harder, laps greedily at the punctures she’s made, chasing every drop like it’s salvation.

Somewhere in the farthest recess of her mind, a voice screams—Stop. You’re taking too much. But she doesn’t care. Can’t care. All she knows is that she needs more. All of him. Every last drop.

Jinwoo’s hand drifts up, fingers weaving into her hair as he gently cradles her head, guiding her closer. His neck arches, offering more—offering everything. “More…” he breathes, voice rough and trembling with need. His head falls back against the rough bark of the pine tree towering above them, grounding him as he unravels. “Take it… All of it. I’ll give you everything, just… Don’t stop.”

She obeys his plea, silencing the last flickers of reason screaming in the back of her mind. Her grip tightens, possessive and unwavering, as she drinks him in with unrestrained hunger. Jinwoo writhes beneath her, body caught in that exquisite space between agony and ecstasy. He feels his strength slipping away, drawn out with every pull of her mouth—but the euphoria flooding his veins eclipses it all. It’s overwhelming, otherworldly, and nothing in his life has ever come close to this.

His blood surges through her like fire in her veins, and it’s everything—rich, intoxicating, maddening. She wants more. She wants it all. She wants to drain him dry, feel every last drop spill into her. But beneath the rush, she feels it—his heartbeat slowing, faltering as her toxin takes hold. His body softening under her grip. A flicker of panic pierces through the haze.

I really should stop… The thought claws at her, faint and fragile against the roaring hunger, but it’s there. I have to stop before I lose him, but… I can’t… It feels too good... I need more...

I could stay like this forever, he thinks, as a strange, weightless calm settles over him. The pain in his chest feels distant now, like a memory fading in the haze. His body floats—light, untethered—but at the same time, it burns. Not with agony, but with her. Every nerve is a live wire, flaring only for her: the deep, purposeful sink of her fangs; the way her moans hum against his skin; the slick drag of her tongue as she drinks him in. 

His eyelids grow heavy, his thoughts slow, drifting into fog. It feels like sleep—final, irreversible. And maybe it is. But instead of fear, there’s only quiet acceptance. Dying like this, held in her arms, consumed by her… it doesn’t feel like the worst way to go. It feels like surrender.

What a weird feeling, he ponders, fighting to keep his eyes open. Just a moment ago, he wanted to push her away and distance himself from her for good, and now…

I don’t want to let go. I want to stay like forever. With her.

Jinwoo wants to hold her closer, bury himself in her warmth, anchor himself to her—but his body betrays him. His strength slips through his fingers like water, and the hand tangled in her hair loosens, trailing down her back before falling to the ground.

His lashes flutter, the world dimming at the edges. He wishes—just once more—to see her face, to memorize the curve of her smile. But the darkness that comes for him… isn’t so cruel. It’s soft. Soothing. Peaceful. Almost like her.

The moment she senses his body go still, the hunger inside her halts like a snapped thread. She jerks back, fangs retracting instinctively.

“Jin?” His name falls from her lips, cracked with worry. Her brows knit tight as her gaze searches his face—his eyes are closed, his head limp, tilted to the side. Her mouth is still slick with his blood, the metallic taste clinging to her tongue, but the sight of him like this—silent, too still—cuts through the haze of temptation like ice.

“J-Jin? Jinwoo, open your eyes, honey,” she pleads, voice trembling. A ripple of panic surges through her, fast and cold, and it burns the crimson from her irises, shifting them back to their natural shade. Something is wrong. Very wrong.

And she’s the reason why.

"Jinwoo," she shakes him by the shoulders, her fingers digging in despite the tremors racing through her hands. "Jin, come on, wake up." His heart is still beating—she can hear it—but it’s slow, dangerously slow, like a fading drumbeat echoing from too far away.

No.

No, no, no.

I shouldn’t have done this. Panic claws up her throat. What do I do now? How do I fix this?

She can take from him, drink him dry—but she has nothing to give back.

“Jin!” Her voice cracks, thick with rising tears. She can't fathom why. She never despised him, no, but does he truly mean enough to her to be worth her tears?

Whatever the answer may be, one thing is certain: she’s never felt so powerless, so utterly terrified.

“Jinwoo, please—please, open your eyes for me, baby. Stay with me.” Her words flutter on the edge of a sob, her fear bleeding into every syllable.

Werewolves can heal on their own… right? She clings to the thought like a lifeline, but doubt immediately creeps in. Her mind races, desperate for something—anything—that might save him. There has to be a way. How do I help him heal faster?

Blood. He needs blood. But how can I give it to him? Steal a blood bag from the hospital? I don’t even know what his blood type is. 

I could take him to a clinic and leave him there, but… What happens when they realize what he is? What will they do to him if they find out he’s a werewolf?

If only he still had a pack. Someone. Anyone. I could bring him to them, even if it’d cost me my life. But he doesn’t have anyone, does he?

He’s alone. Always has been. And the crushing weight of that truth slams into her chest, folding her in half with guilt.

He has no one… No one but her...

And I did this to him.

“Fuck,” she chokes out, panic tightening around her chest like a vice, tears obscuring her vision as her hands cling to him. “Why did you never tell me about yourself? Why wouldn’t you let me in?” Her voice quavers, breaking under the weight of the storm raging inside her. Rage, grief, helplessness—they all blur together, clawing at her ribs.

And now... it’s too late, isn't it?

“Goddammit, Jin!” she sobs, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. When was the last time she cried like this? She doesn’t know—maybe she never has—but now, the weight in her chest feels like it might shatter her in two. She’s trembling, barely holding herself together, her throat tight with the sobs she’s trying to swallow.

Her fist curls, and she strikes his chest—not out of anger, but out of sheer desperation. “Wake up!” she pleads, her voice rising in pitch, her words thick with grief. “Open your eyes!”

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. 

Every attempt ends with failure. The one that keeps winning is time, constantly moving, turning deaf ears to her plea. And once she quiets down, the night turns hushed.

His heartbeat is fainter than a ghost's whisper.

“Please…” she whimpers, her voice so soft it barely carries, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as if holding him could somehow chain his soul in place. Her tears soak his skin, trailing down his collarbone like silent confessions. She buries her face in the dip of his neck, clutching him like something fragile slipping through her fingers. Her eyes squeeze shut, as if shutting out the world might delay the truth.

The weight of it crashes into her all at once—the horror of losing him, her only friend.

“Jinwoo…” she murmurs beneath her broken tears. “Please…”

Don’t leave me.

She feels helpless, growing even more so with the more seconds passing by. All she can do is press her ear to his chest, clinging to the fragile thump of his slowing heart, praying for it to pick up—just a little. Just enough.

But he’s too still.

His body, once burning with life, has gone unnervingly cool in her arms. And his face—normally kissed bronze by the sun—is now drained of color, ghostly pale. The sight of it carves deep into her, a cruel echo of everything she’s about to lose.

In the hollow ache of her grief, she clings to a fragile illusion—imagining him stirring awake in her arms, warm breath brushing her cheek as his calloused fingers gently thread through her tangled hair. In her mind, his voice is soft, reassuring, full of life as he tells her that he’s okay. That he’s safe and sound. That this is all just a dream she can wake up from. She wants to believe it. She needs to. 

She wonders what he’d say if he saw her like this, broken and bare, sobbing until her tears ran dry. Would Jinwoo laugh at her? Tease her? Knowing him, he’d probably reprimand her for being so careless. She can almost hear it, his voice when he calls her an—

“Idiot.”

She blinks. The final tear clinging to her lashes slips free, landing softly on his collarbone. For a split second, she can’t tell if what she’s feeling is another cruel trick of her desperate imagination—until she hears it. His heartbeat. Slow. Steady. Real. A rhythmic thrum beneath her palm.

She gasps, tearing herself from him just enough to rise onto her knees, eyes wide as she looks down at him. And she sees him—the man who’s quietly stolen her heart, thread by thread, without her even noticing... until now.

Color slowly returns to his face, chasing away the pallor that had haunted her moments ago. His lips twitch into a faint smile, and his eyes, though heavy-lidded, seek hers.

Disbelief flickers across her face, chased quickly by a tidal wave of relief so overwhelming it threatens to steal every bit of her strength. “Jin…” His name falls from her lips in a fragile voice as a shaky smile breaks through her sorrow. She reaches out, fingers brushing gently against his cheek, and he leans into her touch, the gesture weak but unmistakably his. 

He’s alive. 

He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.

“Oh, Jin.” She throws herself into his arms, holding him like she might never let go again. Her embrace is fierce, almost desperate, as if by clinging to him tightly enough, she can keep him forever in this world, bound to her. Her tears return, but this time, they fall in quiet gratitude, glazing his skin as she buries her face against his chest.

“You’re alive…” she whispers, voice breaking on a sob, her hands clinging onto his back. “Thank goodness, you’re alive…”

She says it again and again, like a prayer, like a miracle she still can’t fully believe. And in that moment, she doesn’t care how fragile he is or how broken she feels. All that matters is that he’s here—in her arms, breathing, warm. She hadn't realized how deeply he'd embedded himself into her heart until the thought of losing him had torn it apart.

“Barely,” he breathes out with a faint chuckle, his voice hoarse, like it’s clawing its way out of a well. His hand drifts up to the back of her head, fingers tangling gently in her hair as he cradles her close. “You’re… a fucking idiot, you know that?”

She lets out a watery laugh, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall again. “I know. I’m sorry.”

His gaze softens even as he groans, “A little more and you would’ve actually killed me.”

“I know…” she repeats her apology, the weight of guilt crashes down on her again. Her composure shatters—no trace of the arrogance, the mischief, or the effortless grace she wore like second skin. Now, she’s just a girl—fragile, broken—sobbing into his chest like she’s trying to cry the pain away. “I’m so sorry…”

Jinwoo sighs, but there’s nothing but elation in his chest. Somehow, his broken body found its way back from the edge—and he’s grateful. Grateful that he gets to reunite with her again. Grateful that he gets to see her like this, stripped of all pretense, a breathtaking woman shedding tears over the thought of losing him. And despite the pain, despite the blood and fear, he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. Because here, in the raw silence between them, they’re finally honest. Vulnerable. No masks, no lies. Just two lonely souls finding shelter in each other—and letting go of the ache they’ve carried alone for far too long.

He’s found something rare—a friend who drives him insane and anchors him all at once. And even if there are days he wants to strangle her, he knows, with every aching breath, he’ll never let her go. The same way she didn't want to let him go before.

“Stop crying already,” he says, no bite behind the words—just the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You look awful when you cry.”

She lets out a sound between a laugh and a scoff. “You really shouldn’t say that to a lady.”

“What lady?” He playfully scoffs. “A lady would’ve taken care of my wounds instead of trying to suck me dry.”

“I said I'm sorry,” she sniffles, pouting—and it’s so painfully cute, he has to dig his fingers into the earth to keep himself away from kissing her.

“Didn’t you go on a whole rant about being the one with self-control? The one who doesn’t let instincts take over?”

“I am sorry!” She cringes in shame. “But I helped you, didn’t I? You’re not in pain anymore.”

“True. Almost sent me back to see God, too, but yeah, thanks.”

“Oh, please. We both know you’re going straight to hell.”

“And I’ll meet you there, Princess,” Jinwoo says with a crooked smirk.

Her shoulders slacken at the sight, the tension bleeding from her limbs. Her eyes, still glossed with tears, settle on him with a softness he’s never seen before—stripped of bravado, free of fire. In that quiet, honest gaze, she looks almost unearthly, bathed in moonlight, as though heaven itself had borrowed her just for tonight.

It steals his breath away. She steals his breath away.

He blinks, trying to summon the sardonic mask he’s worn so well. “What? No witty comeback?”

Instead of answering, she leans in, her hands rising to cradle his face with a gentleness that catches him off guard.

“Jin…”

“W-wait, what are you—”

But the words die on his tongue when her lips brush against his. It’s a kiss barely there—cool and trembling—but it melts straight through him, leaving his heart fumbling in his chest. Her mouth is soft, unsure, and fleeting. Her lips sweet and pliant, icy cold yet burning every inch of his skin. It ends before he can catch it, before he can even begin to kiss her back.

She pulls away, her expression suddenly shy, her cheeks tinted with the faintest hue of warmth—something so achingly human. It’s a sight he’s never seen before and it leaves him stunned.

“You...” Jinwoo swallows hard, his voice hoarse. “You just kissed me.”

“I did,” she whispers, barely audible. Her usual fire is gone, replaced by something softer, more fragile. She can’t even meet his eyes, her gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder as if terrified of what she might see in his face. It stirs something deep in him—something tender.

Is this… the real you? he wonders, his heart palpitating as he seeks for answer.

“I’m sorry,” she says, unconsciously lifting her knuckles to her lips, concealing the bottom half of her face from him. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. You hate me, don’t you? It must have felt… disgusting to you.” 

The word slices through him.

Still stunned, still reeling, he doesn’t speak—doesn’t know how. So when she shifts off his lap and begins to rise, retreating into herself, he moves on instinct, his fingers closing around her wrist before his mind can even think.

“Jinwoo…” Her voice trembles with the urgency to escape. “I—”

He doesn’t let her.

He yanks her down with all the strength he can muster, and she tumbles into his lap with a gasp—her palms landing against his chest just as his mouth crashes into hers.

Jinwoo groans into the kiss, his senses alight, drowning in the taste of her—sweet, intoxicating, laced with the tang of his own blood. The leftover of her toxin still pulsates through his veins, heightening everything. Every stroke of her tongue sends sparks ricocheting through his nerves. Every drag of her nails across his chest makes him shudder. And when she wraps her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies together like she’d vanish if she let go, it leaves his head gyrating, his body tingling with pleasure, and he can’t get enough.

She feels so good. She tastes so good. 

He can feel himself slipping into delirium, and it has less to do with the toxins and more with her kiss. He wants it to last. God, he wants it to never end. But then she pulls back—just a breath between them—and he almost chases her lips before she speaks, her voice a tremor.

“Wait,” she whispers, brows knitted. “I thought you hated me—”

“I do.”

And then his mouth is on hers again, brutal in its hunger.

One hand grips the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair to keep her right where he needs her, while the other snakes around her waist, his hold firm and demanding. 

“I fucking hate you.” He kisses like he means to consume her very soul. “And I fucking hate this.” His tongue delves into her mouth, tasting her, devouring her, and wanting more, always more.

She laughs softly against his lips, the sound delicate and breathless, coated with the remnants of her moans and the echo of his low, guttural groans. It’s a shared language now—this teasing, this sharp-edged tenderness. She understands exactly what he means. This is how they’ve always danced around each other, barbs disguising desire, sarcasm masking sincerity.

“You think I like this?” she asks in return, her voice honeyed with a hint of impishness. Her lips trail along his jaw, then to his chin, before sliding lower to drag a slow, deliberate stripe up the column of his neck. “You think a princess like me would enjoy kissing a beast like you?”

His grip on her hair tightens instinctively, every nerve in his body lighting up in response. The memory of her fangs, her mouth, her hunger—it still burns in his bloodstream, a delicious ache he never knew he could crave, and fuck, he wants it again. A breathless scoff escapes him, half-laugh, half-moan, eyes dark and heavy with want.

“You’re no fucking princess,” he rasps, trying to sound derisive, but his voice splinters with pleasure and amusement the moment she pulls him back into another kiss.

This time, she leads.

She kisses him with all the experiences she had, teaching him firsthand how to make a woman’s toes curl in pleasure only from the swirl of his tongue.

Her mouth moves with purpose, a rhythm only she knows, and he follows without resistance, helpless to her expertise. It’s different from his wild, urgent heat. She kisses with control, with patience, with wicked precision and it drives him fucking insane.

Her tongue slides against his in a teasing swirl, and Jinwoo moans softly, falling apart beneath her. His hands clutch her tighter, but she’s the one devouring him now—making him tremble from something as simple as the way she sucks and nibbles on his bottom lip.

By the time she finally lets him breathe, he’s slumped against the trunk of the tree, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, his eyes dazed and unfocused. Still, he can’t stop staring at her mouth—flushed and slick from their kiss—as if it were a miracle he somehow survived.

And maybe he didn’t.

Maybe this is heaven.

She laughs quietly, rubbing her thumb over his lower lip, tugging it down. "Looks like the feral beast has been tamed.” Her cocky grin returns and it’s such a perfect look on her, it restores the passion within him.

“Come here.” Jinwoo’s voice is rough with desire as he grips the back of her dress, dragging her closer with a need that borders on desperation. His mouth collides against hers, hot and consuming, and all he can think about is how close he needs her—how skin against skin still wouldn't be enough. He wants her to feel his warmth. He wants to chase away the frost in her skin and replace it with the fire burning in his own.

His hands find her hips, guiding her to move on his lap, seeking friction that sends sparks flying down his spine.

She lets out a giggle, amused by his desperation, dizzy from his urgency. “Jin, calm down—”

“How the hell am I supposed to stay calm,” he growls, teeth grazing her neck, “when you feel this fucking perfect on me?”

He pushes up against her and she can feel it, the contour of his hardening cock rubbing against her center. She moans as her fingers weave through his hair, pressing herself down and angling her face up to bare more of her neck for him to devour. He takes the invitation with a worshipful sort of hunger, his lips trailing lower until he’s cupping her breast.

“But what about…” A shiver runs through her as his mouth closes around her sensitive peak, sucking. “What about your… Your… God, that feels amazing—”

His chuckle vibrates against her skin, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. He’s glad to know he’s not the only one unraveling. Jinwoo suckles harder, his mouth itching to leave marks. “My what? Wounds?”

It’s a wonder that she still manages to form a response when pleasure flutters this intensely in her core. “Y-yeah…”

“I’m fine,” he murmurs back, moving to her other breast with the same deifying intent. “I’m not in pain anymore.”

“But if you—ngh—” she flinches, shuddering beneath his mouth. He’s eager, maybe a little too eager, suckling on her bud with a raw kind of intensity that shows his inexperience. And as much as it thrills her to be his first experience in everything—to teach him all the right ways to pleasure a woman—his recovery is still too fresh, too fragile to ignore.

She bites back a whimper, steadies herself, and gently pushes at his shoulders. Jinwoo growls softly in protest, the sound almost possessive, but he eases off the moment she kisses him—a soft, chaste press of her lips to his calms the burning desire rising in his chest, albeit only momentarily.

“You don’t want to do this?” Jinwoo questions, his voice low and uncertain. The lust is still there, darkening his gaze, but it’s laced with hesitation now, with worry. His hands still hold her in place, but there’s no pressure—only a readiness to let go the second she asks. 

She doesn’t want to reject him. God, every part of her wants—needs to be with him, but somebody needs to be responsible, and she’s not going to repeat the same mistake, not after the last time.

She touches his cheek, smiling softly through the heat and the ache. “I do,” she says, voice gentle but firm. “More than anything.” Her thumb brushes over his skin, a silent form of adoration. “But not when you’re still healing. Not if there’s even the smallest chance it’ll hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me,” he draws her back to him again, silently begging even for a sliver of her touch. “I’m a werewolf, remember? I don’t bruise easily.”

She laughs quietly, shaking her head. “I almost lost you because I couldn’t control my desire before. I don’t want to be reckless and have you bleeding all over the ground from your open wounds just because I can’t wait to have you.”

His expression shifts—equal parts of disappointment and admiration—as he leans into her hand and nods. He understands, but he can’t help the pout that shows on his lips.

“Are you… pouting?”

“No,” he snorts, quickly averting his gaze—and yes, he absolutely is. It’s so adorable, she takes a moment to commit the image to memory.

“I think it’s okay to be a little reckless.” He doesn't give up just yet, his hand sliding up her thigh, inching her dress with it. She slaps it away, playfully chastising him for it, and his pout deepens, somehow becoming even cuter. “What, I’m not allowed to touch you now?”

“You promised you’d behave, Jin.”

“I meant I’d try not to kill you,” he mutters as he hugs her tight, burying his face into her chest and peering up at her with a sulky expression. “I never said anything about not having sex with you.”

“And who said I wanted to have sex with you?” she teases.

Jinwoo pales instantly, and she bursts into laughter, reaching to cradle his face and brush his fringe out of his eyes. “A jest, darling. Of course I want to make love to you.”

“Make lo—” He flushes a brilliant shade of red. “Why do you have to say it like that?” he mumbles in shame, eyes darting away. “It’s embarrassing.”

She gently guides his face back to hers, their foreheads resting together. “Because I don’t want us to just fuck, Jin. I thought I did before, but after everything that happened tonight... After realizing how much you mean to me... I want this to be something more. I want it to mean something. Something special.”

He stares at her, visibly startled—like the words caught him off guard and cracked open something inside. “You want that… with me?”

Her gaze softens. “Oh, Jinwoo,” she whispers, sighing as affection fills her chest. “You don’t honestly think I hated you, do you?”

He doesn’t—not anymore. But for a long time, he wasn’t sure. Maybe “hate” was too strong a word. It was more like… believing they were too different to ever be anything but enemies.

“I don’t hate you,” she continues, her voice warm, grounding him. “I never did.”

His cheeks burn warmer beneath her touch, and his eyes flutter shut as she presses a soft kiss to the center of his brows—a touch so gentle it unravels him. It has been so long since he’d felt this way… welcomed, cherished, loved. And now, here he is, held by the kind of woman who feels like both salvation and sin—his beautiful, sweet little angel with a devil’s grin. In her arms, the world fades away, and for the first time in forever, he isn't just surviving. He's living. And falling for her, in this moment, feels like the greatest privilege of all.

“I… never hated you either," he murmurs, gazing a little sheepishly into her eyes.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Even though you threatened to kill me every day of the week?”

That draws a chuckle out of him—a quiet, genuine sound that lights her up inside. “You knew I didn’t mean it.”

She smiles, her shoulders easing. “So you really are just bark and no bite, huh?”

“All right. Get off my lap.”

She laughs, leaning in to kiss him again—soft and playful, her smile brushing against his. And he kisses her back, just as sweetly, as though he’s finally allowed to show her everything he’s been too afraid to say.

In this kiss—in this tender, quiet moment—Jinwoo finds the answer to his question.

There are two sides to her: the one she wears like armor when she needs distance, and the one she reveals only when she’s ready to lay herself bare. But he doesn’t need to choose between them. He adores all of her. Her cockiness, her sharp wit, her gentleness, her fire, her strength, her vulnerability. Every bit. And by the look in her eyes—the way she gazes at him like he’s something precious—he knows she must feel the same.

“What?” she asks, tilting her head with a smile. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You’re beautiful, and I like you so much, I think I might be in love with you. “I just remembered how stupid you looked when you were crying earlier.”

She pinches his nose, hard. Jinwoo only grins, unbothered, affection curling in his chest like smoke. The words press against the edge of his tongue, aching to be spoken—but he holds them back. Not yet. Not like this. He wants it to be perfect. Maybe after they make love he can—

Wait.

A-After we make... love?

She glances down. “Why are you getting hard again?”

“I—I’m not,” he sputters, face flushing as her eyes narrow in suspicion. “It’s the drug. The, uh, the toxin thing. Still messing with my body.” Which, technically, is true. But definitely not why he’s pressing up against her thigh.

“Oh, right. You probably still can’t stand, huh?” Her brow furrows with concern. The toxin alone could paralyze an ordinary human. Werewolves, of course, have far better resistance—but… I did drink a lot from him.

“Let me take care of you,” she offers gently, sincerely. “I’ll treat your wounds. I’ll stay with you until you’re all healed. And if you need me to take the pain away again—I promise I won’t take too much this time.”

He tries not to smile. “So you're still planning to drink from me, huh?”

“I mean... maybe just a drop or two?”

He gives her a skeptical look. “Mm-hmm.”

“I’m being honest!” she says defensively. “Your blood just tastes really good, okay? I’ve never had anything like it.”

The way she says it—so earnestly, with that faint blush dusting her cheeks—makes his stomach flip. He clears his throat. “So, um… what happens now?”

“I’m taking you to my place.”

“Your place? Why not mine? It’s close.”

“But don’t you live in a den? That must smell awful.”

“I live in an apartment,” he grits out, offended. She gives him a puckish little grin, obviously enjoying herself. It’s honestly astounding how quickly she can switch from adorable to annoying in a matter of seconds. “And I always keep my place clean.”

“Clean apartment or not, I think I’ll bring you home with me.” Her smile turns sly. “You can be my pet for the next few days, puppy.”

He growls—low and grumbly—but there’s no real menace behind it. “I’m not a damn pet.”

“Oh, you’re right,” she coos. “You’re more like a big, fuzzy stray I took pity on.”

Jinwoo rolls his eyes. “What makes you think I’m going along with whatever twisted plans you have for me?”

“Because vampires are very persuasive,” she says with a sugary smile. “It’s our thing. We compel people to do whatever we want. That’s why you never hear complaints about us on the news.” Her grin turns naughty. “Though with you, I don’t even have to use compulsion. You’re already in love with me.”

He nearly chokes on his breath. It stutters in his chest before he forces it into a scoff, trying to drown out the way his heart just slammed against his ribs. “A-as if I’d fall for a vampire.”

“Wouldn’t it be romantic, though?” she teases, leaning in until their noses almost touch, her grin stretching from ear to ear. “A vampire and a werewolf, born from two ancient bloodlines sworn to hate each other. We’d be like a modern Romeo and Juliet—only sexier and with a lot more blood involved.”

“Shut up.”

"O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?" she recites dramatically, clutching her chest like a tragic heroine.

“Shut. up.” he growls, reaching out to pinch her cheek, tugging at it until she squeaks in protest. Still, his lips betray him with a trace of a smile. “One of these days, I swear I’m going to find a way to sew your mouth shut.”

“You can always kiss me to silence me,” she purrs, undeterred, her brows wiggling suggestively. “Or punish me. I accept all forms. If you catch my drift.”

“Christ,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his flushed face. "Is sex the only thing in your mind?"

"You don't think about sex when you're with me?"

Silence.

She snorts out a laugh. "Thought so."

She watches him with amusement, noticing how the tips of his ears glow red despite his attempt to act nonchalant. She resists the growing urge to reach out and scratch behind his ear, just to see if he’d instinctively lean into it. Maybe next time, she muses, biting back a giggle. “You promised you’d be a good boy for me tonight, didn’t you, puppy?”

He tenses, glaring at her through a flushed face. She’s got him—completely at her mercy. Between the haze of the toxin and the way she’s looking at him, he doesn’t stand a chance. Still, he grumbles one last protest, looking away like a sulky teenager. “If you do anything weird, I will rip your throat out.”

“See?” she giggles. “All bark and no bite.”

“Come here, you little—”

***

[emmyrosee]

She got her quiet sneaking in from you.

Kenma’s fingers tap roughly on the controller in his hands, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in focus. He’s died four times to this monster, its shrieks of agony scaring him once embarrassingly in front of his chat, the other three deaths because, now that he’s past being scared, Kenma realizes what a damn hard boss this is.

“Chat, I’m telling you right now, if I see this dev in the streets, I’m taking a crowbar to their knee caps- this is a promise, not a warniIIIIIIING!”

He lurches from the gentle tug of his elbow, heart sinking to his chest in complete fear and acceptance that this is it for him, he’s dead. His arm is ripped away from the source, but when he hears a tiny gasp in fear, Kenma’s heart beats calmly again.

“Daddy okay?” Maesi asks, and kenma pauses the game to turn to her.

“You startled me baby,” he teases, and she blocks up at him with doe eyes to coax him to forgive her. As if she really needs to do that. “But what’s up beautiful?” He asks, putting down his controller and stretching. “How are you, angel?”

Maesi hums and passes her father the plate, her eyes peering up at him timidly- a trait he wants to blame on you, but every time, he’s met with a cocked eyebrow from you. “Want french fry?”

Kenma chuckles and nods, “I mean, you know I’m never gonna say no to fries,” he says, reaching down to grab the lukewarm fry from her tiny plastic plate. God knows how long they’ve been out, at least four hours; but that doesn’t stop kenma from letting his little girl take care of him in her own way. “You wanna be in daddy’s stream? Say hi to chat?” When she nods, Kenma lifts her up and into his lap, and once done, he reaches over to pick up another fry. In his headphones, Kenma hears that he got a donation.

Thank you kuroosassscheek for gifted 75 subs: hey Kenma there’s something behind you

“Thank you, Kuroo,” he scoffs. “Spawn, say hi to chat and uncle Tetsu.”

“Hi chat, hi uncle Tetsu,” she hums shyly, and Kenma kisses her temple around his chewing. “What playin’?”

“Daddy’s playing a scaaaary game,” he says, voice hiked slightly while he gasps. Maesi giggles before passing him another fry, which he takes quickly.

“Gonna have nightmare,” she warns.

Kenma raises his brows in agreement, “mommy’s gonna have to tuck me in.”

“Me too,” she mumbles, curling into Kenma’s hoodie, nose burrowing into his neck and tickling his skin slightly. “Play Star Valley?” She asks.

He hugs her tightly with a fake groan of effort, and she giggles happily, “you want to watch daddy play Stardew Valley?”

“Yeah..”

“Does mumma know you’re in here?”

Maesi is quiet- he chuckles and shakes his head, letting her get comfortable against him. He knows you’re not far, probably asleep on the couch, and Kenma prepares himself to potentially have to carry his two sleeping babies to bed.

“Alright- one second chat,” he says simply, grabbing his controller to change the game to the easy, calming game Maesi loves to watch him play. “We’ll pick that up tomorrow. Gotta protect myself from nightmares.”

Once again, Maesi lets out a little laugh; she tucks her face as close as she can to him, only shifting to grab another fry to munch on. He tips his head slightly again, to plant a kiss on the crown of her head, the soothing music in his headphones gets placed on her head, and before kenma can start any of his tasks, he feels Maesi’s breathing even out, her plate of fries and nuggets placed somewhere on the desk for him to take.

And that’s okay. He’ll play for a while, just in case she wakes up, and he’ll let her sleep in confidence in her fathers arms. Kenma’s pleased as the numbers in his stream doesn’t immediately drop: it stays, even now as it’s been hijacked by the one he loves most.

This 🥺🩷

[sebstanaddict]

The Weight of Love

Bucky Barnes x Reader One Shot

Summary: Bucky Barnes never expected to fall for Y/n, the nurse who helped him recover after he got severely injured from a dangerous mission. Six months later, their love is tested as Y/n becomes the one who needs help. When she collapses in his arms, Bucky must find a way to support her and face their challenges together.

Pairings : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warning : none I think, let me know if you find any

Word count : 4k words

Read more Bucky one shots here : The Stan and Barnes Oddyssey

---

The Weight of Love

The first time James "Bucky" Barnes laid eyes on Y/n, he was bleeding out on a gurney, the sharp sting of pain dulled only by the disorienting fog of shock. The mission had gone horribly wrong, leaving him with a deep, jagged wound in his side that refused to stop bleeding. As he was rushed through the sterile halls of New York Presbyterian Hospital, his vision blurred, and he fought to stay conscious. Despite the chaos surrounding him, a calm, steady voice broke through the haze.

"Stay with me, Mr. Barnes. You're going to be okay. Just stay with me."

Her words were like a lifeline in the storm, anchoring him to the present. Bucky had faced countless injuries in the past, his body a patchwork of scars from battles that spanned decades. The super soldier serum coursing through his veins had always ensured that he healed faster than any normal human could. But lately, he'd noticed a change-a slowing down that was unsettling, to say the least. He wasn't healing as quickly as he used to, and this mission had proven that in the worst possible way.

The fluorescent lights of the emergency room passed overhead, casting harsh shadows that danced in and out of his vision. He could feel the life draining out of him, a coldness creeping into his limbs. But that voice-soothing, determined-kept pulling him back from the brink.

"Don't give up on me now, Mr. Barnes. We're almost there."

Somehow, he managed to focus, his vision sharpening just enough to make out her face. She had a mask on, but her eyes-their gentle concern, their unwavering focus-were enough to imprint on his memory even as he slipped into darkness.

When Bucky next opened his eyes, the world was quieter, the frantic urgency of the ER replaced by the steady beeping of monitors. His side ached, but the pain was duller now, a mere echo of the agony he remembered. He tried to sit up, but his body protested, and he let out a low groan.

"You're awake."

The voice was familiar, and Bucky turned his head slightly, wincing at the stiffness in his neck. Standing by the foot of his bed, holding a clipboard, was the nurse who had spoken to him in the chaos of the ER. Her face was calm, her demeanor professional, but there was a softness in her eyes that put him at ease.

"Y/n," she introduced herself, as if sensing he wouldn't recall much from earlier. "How are you feeling?"

Bucky swallowed, his throat dry and his voice rasping when he finally spoke. "Like I've been through a meat grinder."

Y/n nodded, her expression empathetic. "That sounds about right. You were in pretty rough shape when you came in, but the doctors were able to stabilize you. The wound was deep, but it didn't hit any vital organs, which is why you're still with us."

Bucky glanced down at his bandaged side, the stark white gauze a reminder of just how close he'd come to not making it. The serum should have helped him heal faster, but lately, its effects seemed to be... waning. He wasn't bouncing back the way he used to, and the thought sent a chill down his spine.

"How bad was it?" he asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"Pretty bad," Y/n admitted, her voice gentle. "You were bleeding heavily, and with the serum slowing down... well, it took longer than it should have for your body to start the healing process. But you're stable now, and that's what matters."

Bucky nodded, his mind still processing her words. The serum had been a part of him for so long, a source of strength that he had come to rely on. But if it was weakening... what did that mean for him? For the future?

As if sensing his unease, Y/n stepped closer, offering a small, reassuring smile. "You're going to be okay, Mr. Barnes. You just need to give your body time to heal."

Bucky managed a faint smile in return. "Please, call me Bucky."

"Alright, Bucky," Y/n said, her smile widening slightly. "How about I get you some water? You've been out for a while; you must be thirsty."

"Yeah, that'd be good," Bucky replied, his voice a bit steadier now.

As Y/n poured a cup of water and handed it to him, Bucky took a moment to really look at her. She moved with a quiet efficiency, but there was a warmth in her presence that cut through the sterile coldness of the hospital room. When their fingers brushed as she handed him the cup, he felt a strange sense of connection, a fleeting moment of human contact that made him feel... less alone.

Over the next few days, Y/n became a familiar and comforting presence in Bucky's life. Each morning, she was there, checking his vitals, administering medication, and asking about his pain levels. She seemed to know just when to offer words of reassurance and when to give him space, an intuition that Bucky appreciated more than he could express.

Y/n had seen her fair share of wounded soldiers over the years, but there was something about Bucky that set him apart. Perhaps it was the weight he carried in his eyes, the haunted look of someone who had lived through more than most could even imagine. She couldn't help but wonder about the man behind the soldier-the person who existed beneath the layers of trauma and scars.

One afternoon, as she was adjusting his IV, Bucky broke the silence that had settled between them. "You must see a lot of guys like me in here."

Y/n glanced up, meeting his gaze. "We get our share of soldiers, yes. But none quite like you."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression. "What do you mean?"

"You're... different," Y/n said carefully, choosing her words. "Most soldiers who come through here are dealing with physical injuries, but there's something else in your eyes. Something... deeper."

Bucky's jaw tightened slightly, the memories of his past flashing through his mind like a reel of horrors. "I've been through a lot," he said simply, his voice tinged with a weariness that spoke volumes.

Y/n nodded, her eyes softening. "I can see that. But you're still here, still fighting. That says a lot about who you are."

Bucky looked away, the weight of her words heavy on his shoulders. He wasn't sure how to respond. He had spent so long trying to distance himself from the Winter Soldier, from the man who had done so many terrible things, that he often forgot who he was beyond that. But Y/n's words stirred something in him-an inkling of the man he used to be, the man he wanted to be again.

As the days passed, Bucky found himself opening up to Y/n in ways he hadn't with anyone else in years. It started small-comments about the weather, the food, the monotonous routine of hospital life. But gradually, their conversations deepened, and Bucky began to share bits and pieces of his past.

He told her about Steve Rogers, the friend who had always believed in him, even when he couldn't believe in himself. He spoke of the 1940s, a time when life had been simpler, before the war, before everything had gone wrong. He even hinted at the battles he had fought in the shadows, though he kept the darkest details to himself.

Y/n listened with a quiet attentiveness, never pushing him to share more than he was ready to. She could sense the pain in his words, the guilt and regret that lingered just beneath the surface. But she also saw the strength in him, the resilience that had kept him going all these years, even when it felt like the world was against him.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the window, Y/n sat by Bucky's bedside, her shift nearly over. She had been thinking about him all day, wondering what it was about this man that made her care so deeply. It wasn't just his injuries or his past-there was something more, something that drew her to him in a way she couldn't quite explain.

"Bucky," she began, her voice soft in the quiet room. "Can I ask you something?"

Bucky turned his head to look at her, his blue eyes searching her face. "Sure."

"Why did you become a soldier?" she asked, her tone gentle, not wanting to pry too deeply but genuinely curious.

Bucky was silent for a moment, his gaze distant as he considered her question. It wasn't one he had been asked often-most people assumed they knew the answer. But Y/n wasn't most people.

"I didn't have much of a choice," he said finally, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. "The world was at war, and everyone was expected to do their part. But for me... it was about protecting the people I cared about. Steve, my family, my country. I wanted to do the right thing."

Y/n nodded, understanding the complexity of his answer. "And do you think you did?"

Bucky let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "I don't know. I tried, but things didn't turn out the way I thought they would. The world changed, and I... changed with it."

Y/n reached out, placing a hand gently on his hand. "You're still here, Bucky. That means you're still fighting for something. Maybe it's not the same as it was before, but that doesn't make it any less important."

Bucky looked down at her hand, the warmth of her touch seeping into his skin. For the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of hope, a small spark that maybe, just maybe, he could find his way back to the man he used to be-or perhaps, become someone new entirely.

He wasn't sure what it was about Y/n but he found himself wanting to talk to her, to share the parts of himself that he usually kept hidden and he also wanted to get to know more about her.

"Why did you become a nurse?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

Y/n smiled softly, as if she had been expecting the question. "My brother," she said simply. "He's autistic. Growing up, I spent a lot of time taking care of him, making sure he had what he needed. It wasn't always easy, but it made me realize that I wanted to help people-people who couldn't always help themselves."

Bucky listened intently, sensing that this was something deeply personal for her. "That must have been hard," he said, his voice gentle.

"It was," Y/n admitted, her gaze distant as she recalled those early years. "But it also taught me a lot about patience, empathy, and resilience. I knew that I wanted to make a difference, even if it was in small ways. Nursing felt like the right path for me."

Bucky nodded, feeling a strange sense of connection with her. They were both people who had seen their fair share of hardship, who had been shaped by the challenges life had thrown at them. "Your brother's lucky to have you," he said sincerely.

Y/n's smile widened, a touch of warmth in her eyes. "Thank you, Bucky. That means a lot."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, her hand still placed gently on top of his, the hum of the hospital's night shift lulling them into a sense of calm. For Bucky, it was a rare feeling-peace, even if it was only temporary. He hadn't felt this way in a long time, not since before the war, before the Winter Soldier.

As the days turned into weeks, Bucky's wounds began to heal, though not as quickly as he would have liked. The serum was still working, but its effects were slowing down, leaving him with a lingering sense of vulnerability that was unfamiliar and unwelcome. But with Y/n by his side, the process didn't seem as daunting. She was patient, understanding, and more than anything, she made him feel... human. Her presence became more than just a comforting routine; it became something he looked forward to, a reason to keep fighting, to keep healing.

Y/n, for her part, found herself drawn to Bucky in a way she hadn't expected. There was something about him-his quiet strength, his haunted eyes, the way he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders-that resonated with her. She could see the pain he tried to hide, the scars that ran deeper than the physical ones, and she wanted to help him, to ease his burden even if just a little.

One evening, as Y/n was finishing up her shift, she found Bucky sitting up in bed, a rare smile playing on his lips. It wasn't the first time she had seen him smile, but it was the first time it felt genuine, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" she asked, her tone light as she walked over to his bedside.

Bucky looked up at her, his blue eyes bright with something she couldn't quite place. "I'm getting discharged tomorrow," he said, the words almost hesitant, as if he wasn't sure how she would react.

Y/n felt a mix of emotions-relief that he was well enough to leave, but also a pang of sadness at the thought of him not being here anymore. "That's great news," she said, her smile warm but tinged with a hint of melancholy.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, though his smile faded slightly as he looked away. "But... I'm gonna miss our talks."

Y/n's heart skipped a beat, the sincerity in his words catching her off guard. She hadn't realized just how much their conversations had come to mean to him. "Me too," she admitted, her voice soft.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the unspoken bond between them growing stronger with each passing second. Then, Bucky cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

"Would you, uh, maybe want to grab a coffee sometime?" he asked, his voice almost shy, as if he wasn't sure if she would say yes.

Y/n's heart swelled with a mix of affection and something deeper, something she wasn't quite ready to name yet. "I'd like that," she replied, her smile genuine.

Bucky's relief was palpable, and for the first time since he had arrived at the hospital, he felt like maybe-just maybe-there was a future worth looking forward to.

The next day, when Bucky was discharged, Y/n walked him to the entrance of the hospital. They exchanged numbers, promising to keep in touch, and as Bucky stepped out into the crisp New York air, he couldn't help but feel that something had shifted within him.

He wasn't just leaving the hospital behind; he was leaving behind a part of himself that had been stuck in the past, weighed down by guilt and regret. And in its place, something new was growing-a hope, a possibility, a future that he hadn't dared to dream of in years.

As he walked away, he glanced back one last time, catching a glimpse of Y/n standing in the doorway, watching him with a soft smile on her lips. It was a sight that he would carry with him for days, weeks, and months to come-a reminder that, even in the darkest of times, there was still light to be found.

-----

Six months had passed since Bucky left the hospital, and in that time, he and Y/n had built something together - something real and fragile and beautiful. They had moved into a small but cozy apartment in Brooklyn - not far from where Y/n's father and brother lived - a place that had quickly become a sanctuary for both of them. It wasn't much, but it was theirs, a space where they could be themselves without the weight of the world pressing down on their shoulders.

But as much as Bucky had found peace in this new life, he couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at him every time he looked at Y/n. She had always been a hard worker, dedicated to her job and her family, but lately, it seemed like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Bucky knew about Y/n's family. She had told him about her father, a man who had once been full of life and strength, but who had been worn down by time and illness. Her father had raised her and her younger brother on his own after their mother passed away, working tirelessly to provide for them. But now, the roles had reversed. He was elderly, frail, and needed Y/n's help more than ever.

Then there was Y/n's brother, Austin. He was autistic, a gentle soul who saw the world differently than most. Y/n adored him, had always been protective of him, but his care was demanding. He needed structure, routine, and support that only Y/n seemed capable of providing. She had been his rock, guiding him through life's challenges, ensuring he had everything he needed. But it was exhausting work, both physically and emotionally.

Bucky admired her strength, but he could see the toll it was taking on her. He noticed the way her hands trembled when she thought he wasn't looking, the dark circles under her eyes that no amount of sleep seemed to erase. He had tried to talk to her about it, to ask her to take a step back and rest, but she always brushed him off with a tired smile and a promise that she was fine.

Bucky knew better. He had been in enough battles to recognize when someone was pushing themselves too hard, and Y/n was well past that point. But no matter how much he tried to help, she insisted on carrying the burden alone.

One evening, Bucky was in the kitchen, putting together a simple dinner. The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm, golden light through the windows. He was humming a tune under his breath, something he had picked up from the radio, when he heard the front door creak open.

"Hey, doll," he called out, turning to see Y/n stepping inside. "You're home late."

Y/n gave him a weary smile, her shoulders slumping as she closed the door behind her. "Yeah, it was a long shift," she said, her voice laced with exhaustion.

Bucky frowned, concern etching lines into his face. "You've been pulling too many of those lately," he said gently, crossing the room to take her bag from her hands. "You need to rest."

"I'm fine, Bucky," Y/n replied, though the strain in her voice betrayed her. "Just a little tired."

But as she stepped further into the apartment, Bucky noticed the way her legs wobbled, the way she seemed to be struggling just to stay upright. Before he could say anything, Y/n swayed on her feet, and he rushed forward just in time to catch her as she collapsed into his arms.

"Y/n!" Bucky's voice was filled with panic as he lowered her to the floor, his heart racing in his chest. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow, and for a terrifying moment, he feared the worst.

"Y/n, please, wake up," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. His hands were trembling, the fear coursing through him like ice in his veins.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/n's eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him with a dazed expression. "Bucky...?"

"I'm here, doll," Bucky said, relief flooding through him as he cradled her against his chest. "I've got you."

Y/n blinked, confusion clouding her gaze as she tried to sit up. "What happened?"

"You fainted," Bucky said softly, his voice thick with worry. "You've been pushing yourself too hard, and your body just couldn't take it anymore."

Y/n's brow furrowed, and she looked away, shame creeping into her expression. "I'm sorry, Bucky. I didn't mean to scare you."

Bucky shook his head, his grip on her tightening slightly. "Don't apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. I just... I need you to stop doing this to yourself."

Y/n sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder as exhaustion weighed heavily on her. "I can't, Bucky. My dad and my brother... they need me. I have to keep going for them."

Bucky's heart ached at her words. He knew how much her family meant to her, how deeply she cared for them, but he couldn't stand the thought of her destroying herself in the process.

"I understand that," he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. "But you're no good to them if you run yourself into the ground. You need to take care of yourself, too."

Y/n closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek as she whispered, "But who's going to take care of them if I don't?"

Bucky felt a lump form in his throat as he listened to her words, the sheer weight of her responsibility crashing down on him. He knew what it was like to carry a burden like that, to feel like the whole world was resting on your shoulders. But he also knew that no one could carry that weight alone-not even someone as strong as Y/n.

"You're not alone," Bucky said, his voice gentle but firm. "We'll take care of them together. But right now, you need help."

Y/n tried to protest, but before she could say anything, Bucky reached for his phone and quickly dialed 911. "I'm calling an ambulance," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You need to be checked out properly."

"Bucky, no," Y/n murmured weakly, but she didn't have the strength to fight him. Her body was betraying her, exhaustion pulling her down like an anchor.

"I'm not taking any chances," Bucky said softly, his hand trembling slightly as he held the phone to his ear. "You scared me, Y/n. I can't-" His voice broke, and he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I can't lose you."

The minutes that followed felt like a blur. The paramedics arrived, moving quickly as they assessed Y/n's condition and prepared her for transport. Bucky stayed by her side, holding her hand, his heart pounding in his chest as they wheeled her out of the apartment and into the waiting ambulance.

The ride to the hospital was tense, the ambulance filled with the sound of medical equipment and the soft murmur of the paramedics as they worked to stabilize Y/n. Bucky sat beside her, clutching her hand tightly, his mind racing with fear and worry.

When they arrived at the hospital, the paramedics rushed Y/n into the emergency room, and Bucky found himself pacing the hallway outside, his thoughts spinning in a chaotic whirlwind. He had faced down enemies, survived wars, and fought battles that seemed impossible, but nothing had ever terrified him as much as seeing Y/n like this.

Hours passed, and Bucky was eventually allowed into Y/n's room. She was lying in a hospital bed, looking small and fragile under the stark white sheets. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even and calm, but Bucky could still see the signs of exhaustion etched into her face.

A doctor approached him, explaining that Y/n was severely dehydrated and suffering from exhaustion. They had administered fluids and were monitoring her closely, but she would need to rest for several days.

Bucky thanked the doctor, his mind barely registering the words. All he could focus on was Y/n, lying there so still and quiet. He sat down beside her bed, his hand gently resting on hers as he watched her sleep.

Time seemed to stand still in that small, sterile room. Bucky lost track of how long he sat there, his thoughts consumed with worry and guilt. He should have seen this coming, should have done more to help her before it got to this point. But he had been so caught up in his own struggles, in his own fears, that he hadn't realized just how much Y/n was carrying.

As he sat there, the weight of everything hit him all at once. The life they had built together, the challenges they had faced, the love they shared-it was all so precious, so fragile. And in that moment, Bucky knew he couldn't wait any longer.

Without thinking, without planning, he reached for Y/n's hand, holding it tightly in his own as he leaned forward. "Y/n," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

She stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open as she looked up at him. "Bucky...?"

"I'm here," he said softly, his heart pounding in his chest. "And I'm not going anywhere. Ever."

Y/n blinked, still groggy and disoriented, but she could see the intensity in Bucky's eyes, the way his jaw was set with determination. "What is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky took a deep breath, his mind racing as he searched for the right words. But in the end, it wasn't about the words. It was about the promise he was about to make, the life he wanted to build with her, the love he felt deep in his soul.

"I love you," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I love you more than anything in this world. And I know I'm not perfect, I know I've got a lot of baggage, but... I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Y/n's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as she realized what he was saying.

"Y/n, will you marry me?" Bucky asked, his voice filled with raw, unfiltered emotion. "I know this isn't how I wanted to do it, and I don't even have a ring, but... I can't imagine my life without you. I need you, and I want to be with you, through everything."

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes, her heart swelling with love as she looked up at the man who had become her everything. She didn't care that there wasn't a ring, didn't care that they were in a hospital room instead of some romantic setting. All she cared about was the man in front of her, the man who was offering her his heart, his life, his future.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Yes, Bucky, I'll marry you."

Bucky let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, a wide smile spreading across his face as he pulled her into his arms, holding her as if he would never let go. "You've made me the happiest man in the world," he said, his voice full of awe.

She smiled as she released herself from his arms and reached up, cupping his face in her hands as she pulled him down into a kiss-a kiss that was full of all the love and gratitude she felt for him. In that moment, all the worries and fears melted away, and it was just the two of them, their hearts beating in sync.

They might not have had all the answers, and the road ahead might still be uncertain, but one thing was clear: they were in this together, and nothing could tear them apart.

[erodasfishtacos]

The Stranger & The Thief (roommate!abo)

prompt: YN needs a roommate but has never been around alphas. Harry is the alpha her parents warned her about.

word count: 9.6k+

author’s note: hii guys. enjoy there is currently six more parts up of this series on my patreon which you can join for $3USD!

+++++++++++++++

YN didn’t mind alphas.

Not at all.

YN had grown up in a solely beta household which meant out of all of her family, she was the only omega.

It was difficult growing up, trying to figure out all the intricacies of her secondary gender when her family had no idea what any of it was or what it meant.

Heat was something that had been tortuous to figure out because she did that completely on her own.

All her parents could do was put food and water outside the locked bedroom door periodically as the heat, the pain, the agony persisted for at least five days before she started to feel relief.

A depression always followed for another week.

Then anxiety would start to consistently hurt her chest in the week leading up to her heat because her body is dreading the impending doom, of being dragged through the cycle with nothing that seemed to soothe the ache for her.

YN logically knew the solution would be an alpha, an alpha would be able to solve the problems that she was able to figure out on her own, in the privacy of her bedroom.

However, she grew up in a community that was mostly consisting of betas and omegas, there were a few alphas but none that would have been an option for YN.

Alphas intimidated her.

They were aggressive, demanding, dominant whereas she grew up around betas and omegas who were nurturing, empathic, patient.

It was two different worlds and though her parents did not speak down on alphas, that had made it clear that they felt like YN should settle for a nice beta.

YN never thought anything of it.

She did not crave an alpha.

Well…only during her heats but outside of that, there was no desire to mate with one.

All of her partners up until this point had been betas, that had been just fine for her, none of them were too serious.

The closest she got to a serious relationship was Tate, a gentle beta who was nice, thoughtful, and everything YN thought that she wanted in a partner.

It had been going strong for a few months when her heat had hit.

Tate had come over to offer assistance like they had previously discussed but it had not worked out well at all.

+

YN was embarrassed, she knew she had to face her boyfriend sooner or later, and she put it off for two more days after her heat.

They met at the coffee shop that was an even distance between their apartments.

Tate’s demeanor was off from the minute he sat down, he refused to look at YN directly in the eye, and he didn’t reach out to hold her hand across the table like he normally did anytime that they were out together.

He was the one who spoke first, “This isn’t going to work out.”

YN’s eyes widen in utter disbelief, things had been going so well up until her heat, “Tate, you cannot be serious. I…I’m sorry I acted that way but I did not know that was how I was going to react! We…I won’t ask you to help me out again but we don’t have to break up over it.”

Tate laughs without any humor, “I truly never thought you were a knot-snob.”

YN tenses at the derogatory term, it felt venomous coming out of his mouth, “Why would you say that? I’ve never even been interested in an alpha!”

He shakes his head, lips curling upwards in the slightest, “Really? Because I came over to help you, brought groceries, other things to help take care of you, and when I walked into the bedroom, you growled at me like you were feral.”

YN swallows harshly, she remembers, very vaguely and almost through a fog but she knows what he is saying is truthful.

“You demanded I leave because I was a ‘poor excuse of a man’ because I was a beta,” Tate’s anger cracks into something more devastated which made her feel awful because that was never her intention to hurt him, she would never purposely do that, “You said that I must be delusional to think I could satisfy you. Only an alpha could.”

YN knows there’s tears brimming at her eyes, she was aware of how nasty she had been to him, didn’t fully remember everything she had said but she did believe him about what he was repeating because it’s what went through her mind.

She remembers feeling disgust at seeing him, none of that love she normally has for him was present in her mind at the time, just pure anger that a beta thought that they could please her.

“We just don’t have to spend my heat together, Tate,” YN tries, she truly liked him, loved him as a friend, and saw potential in loving him as a partner.

Tate scoffs, self-deprecating as he finally meets her eye, “I will never be enough for you, YN. I know you weren’t in your right headspace when I came over but your nature made it very clear that you would never be satisfied in our relationship.”

He takes a deep breath, “You…You were a whole different person when I came to you. I thought omegas were supposed to be sweet, pliant, and gentle during their heats. You were agitated, aggressive, and hostile in a way that truly frightened me.”

“Tate, please,” YN reaches for his hand but he retracts it instinctually back onto his lap.

“I…I am not doing this because I want it to be like this. I saw a future with you, truly, I did. I…I really think that you should be with an alpha because it’d be unfair for you and the beta if you continue to date them,” Tate sighs as he gathers his coat, he does have that same gentleness when he gives her a soft smile, “I do wish you the best of luck, YN.”

++

YN had curled in on herself after that, tucked away into a shell, and has been in there ever since.

It’s been about six month since she’d broken up with Tate and she had made the mistake of asking another beta for help during her heat, it was friend who knew what they were in for but she just had to really make sure that it was unsafe for her to be with a beta before she ruled them out of her dating life.

++

YN was only on the precipice of her heat, hoping that if the beta came while she was still more cognizant that it would go more smoothly.

That turned out to be an absolute mistake.

Trevor was coming with the idea that he may need to leave within a few minutes of being there or he could be staying for the length of her heat depending on how it would go.

She had given him the key to get into her apartment so that he didn’t have to wait around for her to answer the door.

YN unfortunately remembers the events that transpire but even though she was aware during their interaction, she felt out of control of her body as she typically did in heat where she couldn’t stop herself from reacting as her wolf mind wanted her to.

“YN? Are you alright? I’m here,” Trevor calls out, smiling when YN appears in the small hallway of the apartment, “Oh hey, sorry I was late but there was a line at the store -”

YN’s eyes are wild, unfocused, and her hair is already messy from rolling around in her nest that she had spent time meticulously building as she started to fall into her heat, “Get the fuck out.”

“YN, listen we talked about -” Trevor begins easily, undeterred at first by her words.

“What? Do you think that you’re going to help me through this heat?” YN laughs meanly, shaking her head with a sharp, cruel smile, “I can smell you. What a weak fucking scent. A beta comes into my home like they can satisfy my heat. You are a joke to think you could give me what an alpha could.”

Trevor swallowed harshly, trying not to let the words hurt his feelings, his masculinity, the security he typically felt in his secondary gender but YN’s words were meant to gnaw at his insides, make him question himself.

“YN,” Trevor replies firmer, standing a bit straighter despite his hands trembling.

“Beta,” She replies but it rolls off her tongue like an insult, “You are nothing to me. You think I would want pups from a weak fucking beta? I’d rather never have a knot in my life than the little you have to offer me. You will never be my alpha.”

Trevor has to bite back the insulting name he would want to call her, knowing that that wouldn’t be helpful but also that him being here was not going to be helpful nor did he want to stay because he was worried she was about to rip his throat out.

He shakes his head, a sour taste in his mouth at the rejection of the omega, he had already been insecure in comparison to the alphas around him.

However, he had a crush on YN, he was stupid for thinking that she would magically be okay with him supporting her through her heat, and now he was realizing that was an absolute mistake because he felt worse than he ever as has before.

In the moment, that was her goal to make him feel that he was less than and she had succeeded.

“I’m just going to leave,” Trevor tells her as he turns towards the door, his bottom lip was quivering as he hangs his head, trying desperately to rationalize this, this wasn’t the kind, sweet, YN that he normally knew, this was feral at best.

“Good,” YN coos as she stands defensively in the door, her eyes were darker than Trevor had ever seen them and the smile on her face wasn’t one that relayed friendliness, it was like she was about to downright murder him.

Trevor has never moved so fast in his life.

++

YN was lucid enough during that to understand why Trevor avoided her like the plague after that, never returning her texts, and the one time she ran into him at the gas station, well he acted like he’d never seen her a day in his life.

She held no blame or ill-will, the things she said were nasty, cruel, and unlike her normal character but it wasn’t an excuse.

YN sent him a few long messages detailing how sorry she was, how she regretted putting him in that situation because she valued him as a friend but they all got left on read.

After that, she stopped trying to find anyone to help her with her heat.

She deleted her dating apps and pushed off the idea of finding someone else.

YN also went to the doctor for her erratic behavior during these times.

“Heat-Induced Aggression and Rage Disorder,” The doctor had told her simply, unphased by her explanation of her symptoms, “Most omegas can spend their cycle with any secondary gender, even other omegas. However, the disorder occurs when an omega requires an alpha and will become aggressive when a beta or an omega attempts to help.”

“How do I solve it?” YN asks desperately, this meant that she would never be able to spend her heat with someone and she couldn’t possibly imagine actually being with an alpha, she’d never been around one, really.

YN, of course, came in contact with alphas on the day-to-day, it wasn’t like they were rare.

It was that she didn’t have any friends, coworkers, or connections to alphas because she was in such a densely populated beta area before moving to the city after she graduated college.

“You need to find an alpha who’s willing to spend your heats with you or continue to spend you heats alone,” The doctor shrugs without any better explanation, “Unless you wish to take medication to completely stop your cycle but that has major medical risks that I would advise against, especially if you ever wish to have children.”

++

That’s where YN is at, with a disorder that doesn’t have a treatment that sounds remotely reasonable to her.

Searching whether in person or online for an alpha partner was extremely unsafe which meant that she had resorted to the fact that she would forever spend her heats alone, in pain.

It made her jealous when her omega friends bragged about how enjoyable, how blissful their heats were spent with their partners.

YN wishes she loved hers but instead, she finds herself thinking death sounds more pleasurable than forever spending five days locked in her bedroom by herself, a slave to her own nature with no help from anyone.

++ a year later ++

YN was going to pull her hair out, it was official because why was it so hard to find someone who appeared somewhat normal to fill the empty bedroom in her apartment?

For the last three years, YN had lived in peaceful harmony with her beta friend, Eileen.

Eileen had started dating her girlfriend, Regina, right after they moved in together.

Two weeks ago, Eileen had let YN know that she was moving out and in with Regina after their recent engagement which meant that she no longer had any income to help her with the rent nor the utilities in less than a month.

YN could technically afford everything on her own, the lease was in her name but it made money tight enough that she had to budget down to the dollar which she despised doing - it was much more manageable when she had someone splitting the bills with her.

And because she would rather not have to cut back on her frivolous spending like her unreasonable expensive smoothies and sure, maybe everytime she sees a pair of socks that look exceptionally comfy she feels the need to buy them.

However, after a third interview with a potential flatmate, YN thought that this may be an impossible task and she should already start her budgeting because there had been issues with all three interviewees.

The first, beta, needed the bathroom from six to nine pm with no explanation as to why.

The second, an omega, stated that she would need to be able to conduct an in-person yoga lesson with six people every other day in their living room.

The third, another beta, demanded that they split the fridge storage fifty-fifty because their last roommate put milk on their shelf of the fridge which they defined as a ‘personal attack’ because they were vegan.

So hopeless is where she found herself after that third beta.

That’s where Niall comes in, her lovely lovely beta friend who sometimes she worries has rocks for brain and other times he’s absolutely the most brilliant being to ever walk the earth, it just honestly depends on the day.

However, she could kiss him when he arrives at her apartment with a bag of chinese takeout and something to solve all of her issues completely, “I have a mate from work who needs a place. He makes good money so I know he’d have no issue paying his part. He’s cool, I trust him enough to recommend him, I’ve worked with him for like six years.”

YN barely even hesitated, she trusted Niall enough to know that he wouldn’t have offered the solution if he didn’t think that it was a good option for her.

He does get sheepish halfway through, “I…I did forget to mention that he’s an alpha.”

YN pauses at that, narrowing her eyes at him because he definitely left that part out in the initial description.

“Niall-” YN begins to huff because it’s not that she totally objected but it was something for her to consider and he had just left that out.

“I know, I know,” Niall puts his hands up, “He’s cool though. He really keeps to himself. I know you’ve never been around alphas, let alone live with one but I really think it would be fine. Don’t you trust me? Plus, he really needs a place to stay.”

YN really should give it more thought.

“He just texted and said he’d be willing to pay three thirds of the rent,” Niall tells her as he looks down at his phone, “If he can move in as soon as possible. Plus he’ll cover internet and electric.”

YN really really should think on it.

She’d never been around an alpha, let alone lived with one, she needs to think about it, weigh the pros and cons.

“Tell him he can move in on Friday,” YN finds herself saying and before she can think better of it, Niall is quickly typing away on his phone and the text alert goes off.

“He said that works for him,” Niall gives her an oblivious thumbs up before picking back up his container of rice and clicking the movie back on like he didn’t just wheel and deal the quickest decision she’s ever made in her life.

She didn’t even ask his name.

++

YN typically isn’t this dumb.

She actually prided herself on her impulse control and rational thinking but as she flutters around the apartment on Friday evening, trying to make it as spotless as possible for her new flatmate, she really starts to question her own sanity.

YN realizes that she’s going to have to have serious conversations with this alpha about boundaries, what will they do when it comes to their cycles, and the thought that their scents will run rampant because they obviously won’t use neutralizers when they’re at home.

Niall had not given much more information beside the fact that his name was Harry, he was twenty-eight, and had a higher up position in the company than Niall so they didn’t always have much interaction, Niall had actually just overheard a conversation he was having on the phone.

YN finds out that he had lived on his own since college but after his landlord decided he was going to sell the house he was renting, Harry had to find somewhere else quickly, and that resulted in him moving in with a friend from university.

That friend was another alpha, which turned sour very after soon after moving in together.

Niall was a bit hesitant when he told her that the issue was Harry, not the other alpha.

Harry was territorial, more of the pack leader type, and it became apparent within days that Harry simply could not share a space with another virile alpha despite Harry forcing the other alpha to submit to him on multiple occasions, it didn’t matter.

Even though Niall assured her that it wouldn’t be an issue because she was an omega, it didn’t make her feel much better but she has too strong of a conscious to promise a place for Harry to stay to then to pull that away from him.

Of course, Niall, the twat, couldn’t make it over while Harry was moving in because he had to go to a family birthday dinner which meant that it would just be the two of them.

“It will just be time to get to know one another,” Niall chirped easily on the phone, unbothered and oblivious to the tension that was building in YN.

++

Harry was supposed to be here at six in the evening.

He quite literally knocks on the door at exactly six.

YN hesitates for a moment before opening the door, her heart was beating unusually fast, and when she opens it, it begins to pump even faster.

The man standing in front of her was clearly an alpha without her even knowing this information before hand.

It was interwoven into every aspect of his being, in a way that could be seen physically but on the other hand, it was unspoken, she couldn’t quite describe it but he was exactly what she imagined an alpha to be.

All of him was defined, sharp from his jaw to his nose to his arms.

His shoulders were broad enough that YN wondered if he could even fit through the doorway without squeezing them inward.

He was tall, taller than she had imagined him, and that added with his width and the pure heft of his bulky but lean muscles - he was fucking intimidating and could hurt her without a shadow of a doubt, she’d be defensless.

This is a bad idea.

YN should tell him he can’t move in.

Her parents raised her better than to let a six foot something, very capable alpha in her home to share with her without knowing anything about him.

The fact of the matter was, he did not even look friendly.

Some alphas were like golden retrievers, easy going and a bit airheaded.

Harry was the stark opposite end of that.

The type of alpha that people avoid because of how dangerous they can be.

If YN was walking down the sidewalk and he was walking towards her, she would without a doubt cross the road to avoid bumping into him but yet, she was welcoming him into her house and something within her felt like this was a good idea.

Her inner omega that is.

Who we all know craves an alpha like water and air.

She pushes that down, as much as possible when she notices how big his hands are and how they would look holding her hips -

He has a frown on his face, the light wrinkles it causes shows YN that he has that expression quite often as he looks at her with a mixture of boredom and exasperation, he should be so fucking friendly because of how much YN is overextending to help him.

He isn’t.

After a moment, YN realizes she’d been staring at him dumbly and has yet to introduce herself.

“YN?” Harry finally asks and his voice is deep, only like an alpha’s can be, no beta could even imitate the vibrato of that tone.

“Yeah, uh, come in?” YN’s voice is higher pitched than she’d prefer as she steps aside, her greeting coming out much more like a question than a statement.

Harry blinks dully at her, a backpack over his shoulder and a few boxes next to his feet, “If you do not want me to come in, just say it. If me being an alpha or a guy is too much, tell me now before I move all my fuckin’ stuff in. I don’t like playing these back and forth games.”

YN is startled by his attitude, she can’t recall a time when anyone has ever talked to her so bluntly or without politeness which again, inherently an alpha thing but it still had her off kilter a bit as his face doesn’t change.

“No, sorry, yeah. You can bring your stuff in, I haven’t changed my mind,” YN steps further back into the apartment, spreading her arms, “This is it. Sorry, I know it isn’t much but I guess a roof over your head is better than nothing.”

Harry doesn’t even bother to look around, doesn’t compliment the comfy furniture or the cute little decorations, “It’s fine. Where’s my room?”

YN knows her smile falls when she realizes this is going exceptionally worse than she had already been dreading, which means that she leads him around the apartment, showing him the bathroom, laundry, linen closet, and then to his room as he remains completely silent.

When he goes to begin to bring his few boxes in, YN moves to pick one up to help but he stops her abruptly, voice firm and demanding,  “No. Put that down.”

YN’s eyebrows shoot into her hairline, “Sorry!” She apologizes for the millionth time in less than thirty minutes, “I was just trying to be helpful.”

Harry snarls his lip in the slightest,  “Am I the alpha or are you?”

YN’s swallows harshly, voice small, “You are.”

“Right. I am the alpha, I will move the heavy boxes, I will unpack. It is my job, not yours,” Harry tells her as he brushes past her to deposit the box into his room before coming out for the next one without anything else to say.

YN should probably stand her ground, set those firm boundaries but she doesn’t, instead she hides out in her room with her cat, Beatrice, (who was also hiding from the unknown visitor) and does not plan to come out until tomorrow morning or until he’s asleep.

But no, when it’s nearly ten at night, YN finally gathers enough courage to knock on his bedroom door to set the house rules, the boundaries because she couldn’t make Harry like her but they could at least be civil.

Or so she thought.

Harry answered the door after a minute, his shirt was off and he was just in a pair of joggers, there was stuff all over his room that he was obviously in the midst of organizing but it also looked worse before everything fit perfectly into place.

“What?” He asks impatiently, like he has a timeframe and YN is disrupting something major.

YN’s mind goes completely blank for a moment because for the first time since he came in, probably because it was night time and his morning scent neutralizers had worn off but she can smell his natural scent for the first time.

It was stronger because he didn’t have anything blocking his glands, his chest was heavily tattooed, and unfairly defined, looking as if he never spent a minute outside of the gym with muscles cut in places YN didn’t even know muscle existed.

His scent was…unlike anything that she had ever smelled in her life.

It was rich, deep, and dark.

It made her dizzy, sleepy, like she could fall into a trance of getting lost in it.

Thick, warm waves of it seemed to short-circuit her mind and make it hard for her to even remember what her purpose was of standing in front of him.

She had never reacted so strongly to scent in her life, never even noticed most of the time what others smelled like but this was seeping into her veins and she couldn’t quite get enough of it as she tried to subtly breathe it in as much as possible.

“What do you want?” Harry reiterates, louder and definitely more annoyed as he crosses his arms.

YN has to blink a few times before she’s shaking her head, “Uh, I just wanted to go over like….house rules? Anything you need from me? Boundaries? How can we operate around each other since we’re going to be living together?”

Harry jaw clenches, his nostrils flared, and he looks appalled.

YN realizes then that he must be able to smell her and by his reaction, he must absolutely hate her scent which made shame and mortification run through her body, of being rejected by this alpha was absolutely confidence crushing.

YN swallows down the whine.

Harry’s eyes trace up to her once, “Here’s the house rules, stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. I’m not looking for a friend. I’m only looking for a place to stay. Understood?”

YN’s mouth is dry, her brain is having a hard time focusing on the harshness of his words because his scent is flashing bright sparkles in her eyesight at the same time, “What about your rut? My heat?”

Harry’s eyes narrow, turning a bit predatory, dangerous for a moment before he’s replying, “I’m sure you have help. If you bring another beta or omega here, that will be fine. I will not bother you. Niall told me you do not typically associate with alphas.”

“Um, okay…That works,” YN lies because she really can’t have another omega or beta here but if she has too, maybe she can try again? Maybe if they come over while she’s not yet in her heat? She’ll have to think about that later, “Your rut?”

“I have it handled,” Harry replies defensively, stepping back and putting his hand on the doorknob, “Just give me a heads up beforehand so that I won’t be blindsided by coming home to the scent change but I will also communicate that with you.”

“Okay, that sounds good-”

The door is shut on her without her even being able to finish her sentence.

“Rude ass fucking alpha,” YN mutters under her breath as she shakes her head, when she plops on her bed, she may or may not scream into her pillow for a moment because she just got herself into a worse situation than she could imagine.

But yet it hasn’t once crossed her mind to kick him out.

Why?

She doesn’t have a clue.

++

YN does not see Harry once during the first two weeks of him living with her.

Not even a glimpse.

And YN would actually wonder if he still even lived here if she wasn’t constantly overwhelmed by his scent.

He must come out of his room once YN is asleep, she does not understand how it is so thick, cloying on every surface of her apartment.

The second you walk in, it hits you, and lets anybody who enters know that an alpha lives here, there would not even be a doubt.

YN vaguely finds herself wondering one night as she sits on her couch whether or not Harry had scent marked the apartment, claiming it as his territory.

She had heard alphas do that, especially when they live with their omega to show that their mate has an alpha who protects them and their home.

However, that’s not the case here, and YN is pretty sure that Harry doesn’t even remotely like her, let alone want to live here so why would he want to claim it?

She rules that out as a possibility, mostly, but when she wakes up in the morning and he had already left for the day, well she can’t help but notice as fucking beautiful her house smells.

YN only gets her heat every six months with the suppressant she’s on but the entire month leading up to it, she finds herself starting to get more rooted in her omega tendencies.

Harry had been living with her for fourish months by this point and nothing had changed since the beginning.

He didn’t use the living room, showered early before YN would wake up and was already gone, and stayed out of the kitchen before she would go to bed.

In the four months, the sightings had been few and far between and she realized that he meant it very literally when he said that he’ll stay out of her way if she stays out of his.

In the sparse times they’ve shared space, whether it was in the hallway or kitchen, Harry’s lip would always curl up and his nose twitched which always incited a bit of insecurity about her scent.

She had always gotten compliments on hers, how light and powdery it smelled like clean laundry spritzed with a hint of orange blossom and vanilla.

YN did not understand why it was so unappealing to the alpha but he was in for a rude awakening as the month leading up to her heat began.

Her scent got noticeably stronger, she felt the urge to scentmark more items in her apartment to claim that this was her home and safe space.

As expected, Harry didn’t say anything the day it all started to intensify.

And to be fair, he never said anything to her.

The closest thing she would get was a low grunt of greeting but despite that, she felt safe with him in her home, and never had any worry that she was in danger.

The alpha made her feel an overwhelming sense of security, in fact, that she had never felt with any beta or omega.

It wasn’t necessary that he was mean to her or treated her poorly, he just…was there.

He didn’t bring anyone home with him, never asked if he could have someone spend the night nor has she ever smelled any visitors either.

However, things really start to change in the beginning of October, the month before her heat would crest and peak before the cycle started all over again.

The first major change she would notice was the difficulty sleeping.

Normally, she slept better than most without typically ever having to get up in the middle of the night or any tossing and turning.

When October hit, it felt near impossible for her to fall asleep and then when she was so exhausted that she did end passing out, it wouldn’t be long before she was awake again which made her always feel like she needed a nap.

++

It was late for a weekday, the clock showing that it was close to midnight, and she had to be up for work at six in the morning but her body did not seem to get the memo because after attempting to sleep since ten, it had not been successful.

YN decided to give it some time before she laid back down again.

YN grabbed a bag of pretzels from the cupboard, gave Beatrice one of the squeeze tubes of tuna-flavored goop, and cuddled up on the couch in the living room.

Of course, nothing sounded good as she flipped through the options, and decided on a romantic comedy that didn’t really interest her but it was her best option to make her sleepy, even if it was from the boredom of a corny film.

YN was about thirty-five minutes in when she realized that the movie wasn’t a helpful tool to fall asleep because she was completely interested in the plot line and she was even more awake than before trying to follow the story.

It made her jump in the slightest when the lock turns in the front door before it’s being opened roughly as Harry walks into the small entryway, shutting the door behind him, and beginning to shuck his coat without even realizing she was sitting there.

She hears him grumpily mumble, “Always leaves the fuckin’ television on.”

Which, yeah, she does forget half the time and the other half she feels like Beatrice likes it on for comfort.

Harry looked worn down, tired, and as beautiful as ever.

He had a duffle over his shoulder that most likely held his work clothes and gym outfit because YN was quite sure that after he was down at his office, he went to the gym which he was at for quite a long time.

She vaguely remembers Niall saying that he boxes occasionally for money and that he trains daily which was a pretty brutal routine of working out before work and after work with no time for relaxation in between.

After he’s lined his shoes up neatly against the wall, (YN notices that he also does the same with her shoes that she had half-haphazardly kicked off when she came home from work), he walks into the living room.

It was obvious that he was going toward the television to shut it off but he lets out the lowest growl of surprise when he spots YN tucked deeply into the corner of the couch with a blanket tucked like a burrito around her.

And YN had never heard, in real life, an alpha growl before.

Instead of being scared, she felt the sudden urge to purr, which scared the absolute shit out of her because why the fuck would she want to purr? She’d only done that when she was a pup and never in her adult life.

Why would she want to do that when this alpha was obviously on edge to the point of growling.

“What are you doing?” Harry grunts, voice sharp and annoyed, nostrils flaring as he must take in her smell.

“I couldn’t sleep,” YN replies hesitantly, eyes darting back up to the screen and then to him because his gaze was so intense and accusatory - it was her house, she could be wherever she wanted when she wanted no matter what time.

“Why?” Harry follows up, his arms crossing over his chest, and making his biceps look unfairly big.

YN grits her teeth, debating on whether she wants to give him a snarky remark to mind his business but then she remembers that she has to live with him and would rather not have them on worse terms then they already seem to be on.

“I always have difficulty sleeping the month of my pre-heat,” YN shrugs, a little embarrassed to be talking about something so intimate with someone who likely did not want to hear anything about her personal life.

“Is that normal?” Harry’s brow furrows, not seeming to like her answer to his question.

YN swipes her tongue across her front teeth nervously, “Um, not really. I…I have a lot of issues regarding my heats and that is one of many. Yeah, I see a doctor but there’s only so much they can do, I guess.”

Harry nods in understanding, doesn’t ask anymore questions or even acknowledge her again as he goes about making himself something to eat before disappearing into his room without another word to her which she was used to by this point.

YN rewinds the movie at bit, she couldn’t really focus when Harry was in the vicinity, and his smell was so fucking overwhelming as he obviously hadn’t showered after the gym and was waiting until he got home.

It wasn’t a bad smell, neither of sweat or filth.

No, it was just that his already delicious smell was stronger, darker, and just encompassing every molecule of the apartment.

It takes her a moment to refocus her attention back on the screen and remember where she had left off, vaguely hearing the shower start to run before he’s shutting the door to his bedroom a little more roughly than a normal.

The plot takes a very unexpectant twist at the end and YN didn’t realize that this rom-com had a sad ending which she really wasn’t used to in most films like this.

After working through all the turmoil and drama that kept popping up for this couple, they finally get it right, and the alpha was about to propose to the omega when he got in a car accident, and ended up passing away.

YN doesn’t not even recognize that she is sobbing like an absolute baby until Harry is standing in front of her with a twitch of irritation in his jaw and only in a pair of joggers, nothing stopping her from seeing the bare, defined muscle of his upper half.

“Why are you crying?” Harry asks as he looks down at her, arms crossed yet again.

YN wipes her face with the sleeve of her oversized hoodie, tears tracks surely making her face puffy as she sits up, “It ha-had a really sad ending I wasn’t expecting,” YN nods up towards where the credit were rolling, “Th-The alpha dies and doesn't get to pro-propose.”

“That’s got you all worked up?” Harry sighs as he moves to grab the remote, flicking off the television and motioning for her to stand up, “You need to try to go to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep,” YN nearly whines, making tears start again.

Oh, did she mention she gets unreasonably emotional during her pre-heat?

“Try,” Harry insists and he gently grabs her wrist, pulling her to her feet, “For both of our sakes, please just try to get some rest.”

YN frowns at that, why does it matter to him?

She hates that she feels disappointed when he lets go of her.

“Okay,” YN agrees as she shuffles her feet towards her bedroom, despising that despite how unfriendly the alpha is, she finds herself wanting comfort from him which…it just doesn’t make any sense and she pushes those thoughts to the very back of her mind.

YN veers off towards the bathroom first and by the time she turns to say goodnight, Harry’s already back in his room with the door shut, and she just ends up sighing before shutting the door of the bathroom to use it before she tries to sleep again.

As she sits down, she notices a pile of fabric in the corner near the sink, and out of curiosity once she’s done, she plucks it up and holds it out.

It was the shirt that Harry had been wearing when he came home, the one he worked out in, and it was absolutely drenched in that smell that made YN weak at the knees.

Harry was meticulously clean.

He never even left behind as much as a crumb of a sandwich and so seeing a shirt of his was unusual because it had never happened before.

YN has no excuse for her behavior, doesn’t really even consciously realize that she’s doing it until she’s back in her room with his shirt tucked up into her hoodie.

She pulls it out and pathetically enough, brings it to her nose where it just smells of alpha, comfort, security, and everything she could ever imagine

It feels wrong, invasive to his privacy almost, and she has never done anything like this in her life.

There was something that outweighed all those negative feelings because she finds that as soon as she lays down and tucks the shirt around her pillow to lay her face into, her eyes instantly become droopy and in no time, she’s out like a light.

+

YN tries to push the whole shirt incident out of her mind the next day, blaming it on her pre-heat haziness, and absolutely nothing else.

Logically, she knows she should return his shirt to him, at least tossing it in his hamper but his scent lingered for days afterwards and there was a direct correlation to how much better she had been sleeping since.

When the scent was completely gone, it was like clockwork that YN began to not be able to fall asleep.

It leads her to another night on the couch, another night of Harry coming in late, and being irritated that she was still awake.

“You were fine the last few nights,” Harry notes as his greeting, no ‘hello’ or ‘how was your day’.

YN bites the corner of her lip, lowering the volume a tad on the television, “I know.”

“So why are you up right now?” Harry questions and god, are all alphas this blunt and impersonal or was it just this alpha in particular.

“Because I couldn’t sleep,” YN replies like it’s obvious.

Harry bares his teeth slightly, “Why can’t you sleep?”

“I told you, my pre-heat,” YN realizes that she’s getting a bit defensive because the real answer is much more mortifying and something she would never actually share with him.

He steps in, dropping his duffle unceremoniously, and walks closer to her.

Harry starts to speak slowly, precisely like he’s trying to get YN to understand, “I am not stupid. I understand that. I am asking you, what made you sleep the last few nights? You slept like a rock when I check-, when I walked past your room.”

YN shouldn’t react the way she does but she feels in a way that all the tension between them bubbles up.

Not to mention, it’s incredibly irritating to her how drawn her omega is to him, his scent, his presence, and she fucking hates it because he’s a dickhead.

“I don’t fuckin know, okay? Leave it alone. I’m allowed to be in my living room at whatever hour of the night I please without a fucking interregation,” YN snaps at him angrily, cursing when tears start to drip down her cheeks, and these hormones just sucked, amplifying every emotion she has ten-fold.

Harry lets out a low growl at that, just like the other night, and it doesn’t scare YN once again.

No, for some reason it makes her anger ebb just the slightest.

“Stop the attitude,” Harry replies evenly but his voice was deeper, “I was just checking in on you.”

Anyone else telling her to stop her attitude?

It would have escalated into a nasty fight.

YN instead just deflates, curling up further into her blanket, and covering her face because she just couldn’t get in control of the tears that were streaming down.

He must think she’s a lunatic.

Harry leaves her once again to go shower.

YN’s absolutely praying that he leaves a shirt rumbled on the floor again, despite how guilty that thought makes her feel.

She just wants sleep and for her hormones to even out.

YN feels a bit like a criminal when she goes to the bathroom, soon after Harry had went back out to make himself something for dinner, and there’s a massive disappointment in her stomach when the bathroom is as spotless as always.

She is craving the scent, she knows she can get another fix of it but it would definitely be in his hamper, in his room, and it’s such an invasion of privacy for her to go in there but then again, he’s frying something on the stovetop and he wouldn’t know…

YN’s never stolen in her life, not even gum or nail polish when she was younger, and it’s not even really stealing because she’ll give it back as soon as the scent wears off (but that’s not really true because she hasn’t returned his other shirt and has no intention of it).

She’s already opened his door, quickly scoping out the space, and realizing that his bedroom was the absolute fucking motherload of everything she could ever dream of.

If she thought their whole apartment smelled like him, his bedroom was if you bottled it in a jar, it was thicker, more cloying than ever, and she noticed a purring in her chest before she realized she was doing it and stopped.

If she was completely insane, she would try to grab as much as possible, until her arms are overflowing and she can’t carry out anything else without it falling.

But she’s not that far off the deep end that she did that, she felt creepy enough as she tiptoed over to his laundry hamper and snatched the shirt that was lying on top, the one that Harry had walked in the apartment wearing early.

YN wishes she could loiter a bit longer but that meant a higher chance that she was going to get caught.

She is surprisingly successful as she sneaks back into her room, proud that she now has two shirts to add to her nest.

YN always had a nest, it provided her comfort and security but she absolutely loved that she could intertwine the fabric together with her soft blankets.

This meant she was guaranteed a few more good night sleeps.

++

YN was running incredibly behind for work the next.

She had slept so well that she must have turned off her alarm instead of snoozing iit.

Because when she finally cracks her eyes open, the sun is breaking through her blinds, and her body knows that it is much later than six in the morning.

Her phone confirms that when she clicks on the screen she sees that it is seven-thirty-five.

Any other day, it really wouldn’t be that big of a deal because besides meetings she could make her own schedule.

Of course, of course, she sleeps on the day of an important presentation that she was the head presenter on.

It started at nine which didn’t give her much wiggle room because the commute takes a decent amount of time and that’s if there’s no hectic traffic.

“Shit, shit, shit,”  YN chants to herself when rolls out of bed, glaring judgmentally at Beatrice, and muttering, “You wake me up every other morning for breakfast, but not today, of all days?”

Beatrice blinks slowly at her before she lifts her paw pointedly and nibbles on it.

There’s no time for a shower or the makeup she wanted to do.

The only luck that was on her side was that she laid her outfit out last night after being incredibly indecisive about what she wanted to wear in front of the board of higher ups.

She had tugged her hair up into a loose ponytail that actually passed for the messy updo style, and put on her best push-up bra right after.

YN figured that while she was tugging on her trousers that she could go out to feed Beatrice,  the button was being finicky as it always tending to be so she was looking down as she begin down the hall, and nearly fell backwards when she runs into something hard, warm, and delicious smelling.

Harry’s big hands reach out and wrap around her bare arms, keeping her upright as she yelps in surprise, pants going unbuttoned for a moment as she grips Harry’s forearms for stability and looks at him with wide eyes.

His nostrils are flaring viciously, an irritated growling rumbling through his chest, and he keeps his eyes on her the full time.

They never once darted down to her chest,  that not only was just covered by her bra but was also sheer enough that her nipples were completely visible through the nude fabric.

YN is confused by her own desire to just curl into his chest and feel his shirtless chest against her barely clothed one, and what the fuck.

“Wha-“ YN stammers in confusion, why is he home?

“Why aren’t you at work?” Harry asks pointedly, his jaw was clenched tightly enough that it must be aching with soreness.

“I-I overslept,” She replies shakily, his hands still gripping her arms, fingertips pressing in, “I need to feed Beatrice.”

“No, what you need to do is get yourself dressed. Do you walk around half-naked with every alpha you know? S’indecent,” He’s scolding her like a child as he finally steps back.

YN has been so nice up until this point, despite how wonky her hormones have been.

She’s typically never a nasty person.

She rarely ever gets angry either.

However, today was the wrong day to fuck with her.

“Fuck you,” YN snaps back out of her stupor, much to Harry’s surprise, “I told I was late and I didn’t think you’d be home because you’re always at work by now. I’m sorry I’ve offended you with my body, prick.”

YN turns on her heel, storming back to her room, and snatching up her phone to check the time to see an email notification from her work.

Good morning,

We hope this email finds you well. Our office has to be unfortunately shut down for the next few days due to a major power outage after flooding in the basement of the building. We are estimating a three to four day shutdown. To show our gratitude for your patience, these days will be marked as paid time off. Stay tuned for more information and updates.

Thank you,

Evergreen Financial Accounting

YN feels a huge weight lifted off her chest because not only does she get a few days to relax but now she isn’t going to be late to her important presentation .

However, she does not feel completely relieved because the anger chewing at her over her housemate is just as heavy, even more prominent, and has triggered her inner hormonal omega.

YN fees a flash of defiance which is never a good sign as she usually never tries to rock the boat or cause a stir, prefers to fly under the radar.

No, not today.

YN storms back out of her room because she was going to feed Beatrice in her bra and unbuttoned work slacks if she wanted to.

Harry was sat on the living room couch which was an uncommon sight, a protein drink in a shaker cup, and his eyes on his phone in the opposite hand.

YN goes back into the kitchen, deciding she might as well make herself a breakfast sandwich while she’s at it after she fills Beatrice’s bowl.

She can feel his eyes on her, intense and if it could, his gaze would be burning a hole in her back with how directed and annoyed it was.

YN moves slowly, now that she’s in no rush at all, and she feels stupid for being surprised when Harry lets out a snarl loud enough to echo in the space.

YN doesn’t turn around.

It feels dangerous, she’d learned over and over again growing up to never ever antagonize an alpha, and here she was.

When she doesn’t respond to the noise, it gets louder and makes her ears ring just the slightest, he’s trying to force her attention on him.

Bossy, ill-mannered alpha.

His voice is closer when he speaks, she never even hears him get up.

“Go get some fuckin’ clothes on,” Harry orders,  his voice deeper, raspier than she had ever heard it.

But it also sent a very unpleasant spark of nervousness up her spine because the alpha in front of her was past the point of being annoyed, he was furious.

His shoulders were as broad as they could go, his teeth flashing at her, and his scent was richer, thicker, tinged with a sharp pine.

The playful, brattiness dissipates from her body as his growls stay loud, demanding, deafening.

YN doesn’t realize at first what a bad decision it is to flip her hair over her shoulder, putting her bare bond spot right on display in front of an agitated alpha.

To her utter dismay, he steps forward and their chests are nearly touching, his eyes were now completely focused on the curve of her neck.

When he reaches up, cupping the side of her neck, and curiously thumbs over the spot, YN cannot control the whine that leaves her throat.

His eyes move directly back up to hers, the noise drags him for his daze, and back into reality.

He actually does look her up and down this time, eyes lingering on her chest for a minute before he’s hissing at her once again, “Go get a fucking shirt on.”

With that, he’s turning and grabbing his duffle before storming out the front door, shutting it hard enough it vibrates but then she still hears him take the time to lock it.

Stupid fucking alpha.

+++++++++

[starlightshadowsworld]

Chuuatsu where Atsushi doesn’t take losing his ability in Dead Apple well and Chuuya comforts him.

Chuuya wakes up realising that his bed is empty. He would roll back over and go back to sleep but he has a bad feeling.

So instead Chuuya gets up and surveys his flat.

His hope that Atsushi might’ve just gone to grab a glass of water or something die when he hears crying from the bathroom.

Now, Atsushi was a rather sensitive soul and it was something Chuuya loved about him greatly. But in all the time Chuuya had known him he’d never seen Atsushi cry.

He’d seen Atsushi lose limbs and bounce back without so much as a wince.

So suffice to say Chuuya was worried now. The bathroom door wasn’t locked but he stoped himself from barging it open. He knocks lightly “Atsushi, are you okay?“ It felt dumb asking because clearly he wasn’t but what else do you say?

“Somethings wrong…” mumbled Atsushi, his voice hoarse as if he’d been screaming. Chuuya frowned “whats wrong love?” His heart sank at Atsushi’s whispered “me…”

Did he have a nightmare? Is that was this was about?

“Atsushi, there’s nothing wrong with you.” Says Chuuya softly. He hears a sniffle, and what he assumes is Atsushi shaking his head. “I’m wrong…I’m wrong.” He repeats like a mantra over and over.

Chuuya knocks on the day again in the hopes of getting Atsushi’s attention back on him. “Can I come in?”

“Please…”

It takes all of Chuuya’s self restraint to not blast the door off his hinges. He practically throws it open and kneels beside Atsushi who’s curled up on the cold tile floor.

He looks haunted.

“Hey tiger” he says lightly and relaxes just a little bit when Atsushi looks up at him with clear eyes. At the very least he doesn’t seem to be hallucinating.

“No tiger.” Says Atsushi shaking his head and wrapping his arms tighter around him. “No tiger…it’s gone.”

Chuuya frowned but then he remembered the meeting the Port Mafia had yesterday.

He looked over at the window and shes enough there was a bright red fog outside.

As if hearing his thoughts Atsushi piped up “I had a bad dream and I didn’t want to wake you so I went out for some fresh air….” He was shaking all over and the cold tiles weren’t helping at all.

Chuuya softened.

“It’s not your fault. Whatever sick fuck released that thing is to blame not you.”

They’d talk about Atsushi being very okay to wake him if he wasn’t doing great but that could wait to later.

For now, with his permission Chuuya gently picked Atsushi off the bathroom floor and took him back to bed. Atsushi’s eyes were shut in agony and he was clinging to Chuuya like a koala.

His boyfriend only held him close and wrapped the blanket around them both. “It hurts…” whispers Atsushi into the others shirt but Chuuya heard him clearly.

He ran a hand through Atsushi’s hair and smiled sadly when the other leaned into the touch.

Somehow even losing the tiger he was still rather catlike.

It made sense though if the boss lost his ability he would act like any other non gifted. But Atsushi was a weretiger, to lose the tiger was like having himself ripped apart.

Had the Agency not warned him about this? He’d be having words with them later if not.

For now Chuuya kissed his beloveds head and rubbed soothing circles into his back. It wasn’t a pain he could relieve for him. But he did his best to keep him comfortable.

The way Atsushi described it made him feel ill. Having your soul torn apart, your own body not feeling your own. Physically Atsushi looked the same but he wasn’t.

It was a feeling Chuuya knew all too well and would never wish on his lover.

Atsushi had suffered more than enough already and whoever did this was going to pay for it dearly.

[duskvsdawn]

A combo of 25: Shh, don't be scared. I'm here now and 29: You look so beautiful when you cry with Zeal Ginjoka sfw please 🥹

≫ A/N: Hey hey, you got it! I hope you like it :)

CW: not much really, reader is afraid of thunderstorms and well... there is one going on

Art credits.

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If you like my works, please like, comment and reblog! It is much appreciated ❤ And if you really enjoyed it, please follow me so you can be kept up to date on future uploads! Please do not re-upload, translate, or use for AI training.

It's okay darling, I'm here now

You hated thunderstorms. They scared you so much. And what made it worse was that you were home alone. Your boyfriend was still at work, and this was the worst time for him to be away. You bundled yourself up in your blanket on the couch, completely covering yourself so you could muffle the loud sounds of the thunder. You sniffled as you hugged your legs and moved back and forth, hoping to soothe yourself. So far, it wasn't helping, and you were hoping your boyfriend would be home soon, even though you knew he had a few more hours to go.

Zeal looked out the window and saw what was going on outside. He was worried about you. He looked at his phone to check the time, and also his weather app to see how much longer this would be going on. Unfortunately for you, it seems like it wouldn't be stopping anytime soon, and he was stuck here. With a heavy sigh, he continued his duties. He would ask the others if they were okay with him leaving earlier. Maybe his colleagues would be okay with taking over for the night so he could go home as soon as possible to comfort you.

When Zeal was on a short break, he tapped his colleague on the shoulder and explained what was going on. She said it was okay for him to go home. It was a quiet night after all, partially due to the weather, and she knew how much Zeal loved you and that your comfort came first. Zeal thanked his colleague and rushed home, driving quite a bit over the speed limit, but a ticket was the least of his concerns now.

When he came home, he frantically started looking around the house for you. You were so enveloped in your own fear that you hadn't even noticed him coming in. The bartender eventually found you on the couch, still moving back and forth, while he heard you cry. He rushed over to you to sit next to you and unwrapped the anxiety burrito that was you. You flew into his arms and hid your face in his shoulder, crying your eyes out.

"Hey, shhhh... It's okay, baby. I'm here, I'm here. Don't worry, you're not alone anymore." Zeal whispered as he rubbed your back comfortingly and let you cry all you wanted. Who could possibly worry about a tears and snot-stained shirt when their partner, whom they love so much, is in such agony? "Zeal... I am so scared... It's so loud tonight, and there have been so many of them lately. I'm not okay at all." You managed to bring out between sobs, hugging your boyfriend so tightly that he was almost afraid your nails would rip his shirt. But again, not that important now.

"I know, baby, I know. It sucks, but I'm here now and you don't have to face it alone for the rest of the night. I'm sorry I couldn't be here sooner," the bartender said with an apologetic smile as he gently forced you to look at him. "It's- it's okay... I knew you had to work tonight, and it's usually busy at this time of night." You sobbed some more, wiping your tears from your eyes. Your face was starting to hurt from all the crying, you had a headache because of it, and you also really had to pee, but you were afraid to get up. You told your boyfriend about your predicament, and he offered to walk to the toilet with you so you wouldn't have to go alone, so that's exactly what you did. Afterwards, both of you walked to the medicine cabinet to get you some painkillers, and then Zeal walked to the kitchen to get some water while you took your position on the couch again. He offered you the glass and the painkillers, and you quickly swallowed them down.

The two of you just sat on the couch for a bit, and now both of you were wrapped in the blanket. You felt safe with him here, and you weren't as scared anymore as you were when you were alone. You were still sniffling, but not as much as before. Zeal hated to admit it, but he thought you looked so pretty when you cried, and he wasn't entirely sure why. Usually, it drove him mad when he saw you do that during pleasure-filled nights, but tonight it was different. You looked so vulnerable, and the urge to protect you and never let you go washed over him like a tsunami.

And then, the loudest bang you had heard all night, and all of a sudden the both of you were enveloped in darkness. You went full panic mode and cried even harder than before, clinging onto your boyfriend like he was the only one who could take all of this away. The power house near your home was probably hit hard, and the entire neighbourhood was probably engulfed in darkness now. Zeal wanted to confirm his suspicions, but he wasn't sure how to do that without scaring you even more. Should he hold your hand as both of you walk towards the front door to check? Should he walk towards the window? For now, he just assumed this was the case and would work on making sure the house wouldn't be pitch black anymore.

"Darling, stay here, okay? I'm going to get a lighter so I can light some candles, alright? I'll be right back. You got this. You can do this," the bartender said as he held you close, leaving a kiss on your cheek. "I don't wanna be alone... Please stay..." you cried, but also knowing full well that being in complete darkness was not going to help you feel better anytime soon either. "I know you hate being in the dark, especially on nights like these. I'll be right back, I promise," your boyfriend hushed, kissing the top of your head. Eventually, you let go of him so he could walk to the kitchen to get a lighter.

Zeal walked around the home, lighting some of the candles spread throughout, and he also lit the fireplace. When he was done, he immediately sat back down next to you. You looked around the dimly lit room and admired the candles in front of you on the coffee table, gently flickering back and forth. You took a deep breath to hopefully steady your heartbeat, as your boyfriend offered to do some breathing exercises with you.

"No more darkness..." you eventually whispered, looking at the flames dancing in the fireplace, kind of zoning out. "That's right, darling. No more darkness. I'm sure the troops will be out in force soon to fix the power. Until then, we'll have to make do with what we have." Your boyfriend said as he wrapped his arm even tighter around your shoulder and looked at the fireplace with you. He noticed you had become a bit calmer, so he offered to get you some food. Knowing you, you hadn't eaten at all since the thunderstorms started, and that had been quite a while ago. You nodded, and so your boyfriend went to the kitchen, hunting for all your favourite snacks. He eventually returned with a tray with all kinds of tasty treats on there, and a glass of your favourite soda. He put them down on the table and grabbed a handful of chips before sitting down next to you again.

You occasionally got some treats, thanking Zeal for taking such good care of you. "Of course, darling. Anything for you. You know that," your boyfriend said as he wiped a tear from your cheek. As long as he was here with you, this wasn't so bad. At least, not as bad as having to deal with it on your own. After some time, the bartender had noticed that you were unusually quiet. When he gently moved so he wouldn't disturb you to examine your face, he saw you had fallen asleep. The constant crying must have exhausted you to no end, and he knew full well that you would only feel safe enough to fall asleep during a thunderstorm with him there. He kissed the top of your head, and proceeded to carry you to the bedroom, princess style and gently laid you down, after he had put out the candles and the fireplace, of course. He lay down next to you, pulling you close to himself after he had wrapped you up into the blanket burrito style. Zeal kissed your forehead, and then your nose, whispering, "I will always be here for you, darling. Don't worry, you're not alone anymore. I'm here."

[greedyhoneyz]

One Born Every Minute

ೃ࿔*:･pairing: eren yeager x pregnant!mom!reader .ೃ࿔*:･synopsis: as first-time parents, both (name) and eren are filled with excitement and anticipation. (name) is ecstatic, whilst eren is clouded by what-ifs. but when (name) is admitted, their roles reverse - (name), reality finally sinking in, is overwhelmed but with eren by her side, she’ll face her newfound fears and meet their little one. .ೃ࿔*:･cw: angst. childbirth. inaccurate representation of birth. mostly fluff. .ೃ࿔*:･authors note: this is a long one, 2.2k words. the longest I've done in a while. i wanted to write a detailed story of reader and eren at birth, and used help to make this story sound as natural as I could make it. i hope that at least one part of this story can be understood but overall, I think this story might be my new favourite.

The dreary lift ride to the delivery ward felt like an eternity, the soft hum of the elevator and the simultaneous tapping of (name’s) nails against her phone and Eren’s uneasy feet shifting across the lift floor only added to the tension in the air.

Eren stilled, tightening his grasp on the handles of (name’s) hospital bag and glanced at her. His lips were pursed, his eyebrows contorting inwards as he asked. “How are you feeling?” 

Slowing the motion in her fingers, (name) turned away from her phone and peered up at Eren, a smile coming to her lips. “I feel fine.”

“That’s good…good,” Eren mumbled quietly, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Do you…need me…uh…did you think we forgot anything at home?”

“No,” (name) shook her head and wrapped her arm around Eren as best as she could despite her belly getting in the way. She rested her head on his shoulder, hugged him tightly, and reassured him. “We’ll be fine babe, we’re ready for this.”

The lift jolted to a halt and its door rustled open, greeting the couple with sounds and sights of the hospital hallway. People hurried by, doctors in scrubs rushed past, and the faint buzzing from the fluorescent lights above filled the air. 

(name) followed Eren wilfully, panting between slow, steady breaths as he carefully led her across the hallway, following the signs to the delivery ward.

They reached the door to the ward, the muted sounds of labour echoing from within and entered, to be greeted by a nurse at the reception desk and her welcoming smile. 

Eren and (name) stood at the ward’s reception desk, the sterile scent of the ward filled the air. (name) clutched her belly, her face contorting into a frown and held onto the desk for support as a tide of agony, rippled across her stomach in waves that came closer and closer together. 

“Are you okay?” Eren asked fretfully. He clambered over (name), rubbed her middle and gently touched her shoulder.

Between the strikes of pain and shaky breaths, (name) tried her best to concentrate, to formulate her words yet all she could offer was a moan and weary grin as her hands trembled slightly. 

Eren frowned, his eyebrows knitted together and knawed at his bottom lip. He greeted the nurse at the desk, whilst (name) riffed through her contractions and shuffled impatiently as she settled into her recliner. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, the gentle clicking of the keys a soothing backdrop to (name’s) muffled howls. 

“Alright, I need you to fill out these forms before we get you settled in.” She handed Eren a clipboard with a stack of papers attached and he hurriedly took it. He skimmed through the paperwork, jotting down (name’s) medical history, and insurance information from memory, the scratch of his pen against the paper a steady rhythm.

Bunching the papers together, Eren returned the paperwork and watched diligently as the nurse promptly glanced through the information, ensuring everything was complete before tucking the papers into (name’s) file.

She stood from her chair and circled her desk, a clipboard tucked underneath her arm. She beckoned the couple over and gestured for them to follow her down the corridor. She led them past rows of closed doors until they reached room ‘406’.

“Okay, you’re gonna be right in here.”

“I’ll grab you a gown.”

Slam. The door shut, and Eren and (name) were left alone. 

“It’s nice.” (name) spoke out between a few bated breaths, finally at ease. Her gentle voice filled the barren room as she carefully eased herself onto the edge of her bed. 

Placing her bag at his feet, Eren glanced at (name). “What?”

“The room,” (name) murmured, motioning her hand across the room. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Eren breathed, pulling up a chair beside her. He sat down, sinking into its firm cushion, and tucked his feet beneath.

As Eren sat and drew a breath, he felt a sense of overwhelming fatigue wash over him. He had been running on little sleep, juggling work responsibilities and last-minute preparations for the baby's arrival. His mind was a constant whirlwind of worries - about (name’s) well-being, about the health of their baby, about the obscure challenges that lay ahead with childbirth. 

“Here you go,”

The nurse entered with a warm smile bound to her face as she greeted the couple with a hospital gown in hand. She placed it on the bed beside (name) and after checking her watch, issued instructions to the couple. “After you get changed, we’ll come and check how far you’ve dilated.”

“Okay.” (name) nodded, shifting her gaze between the gown beside her and Eren. 

“Great! See ya in a few.” Slam.

“You need my help?”

“Please,” (name) cajoled, raising her arms like she wanted him to carry her.

Rising from his seat, Eren helped (name) to her feet and into her hospital gown. She shuffled out of her sweatshirt and sweatpants and stepped into her gown. She struggled to manoeuvre her swollen belly into the gown but Eren’s hand steadied her fidgeting and carefully draped the fabric over her middle and slightly above her knee.

Eren stood back, fatigue swelled in his gaze and relished at the sight of (name’s) swollen belly. The sight of her middle, veiled beneath the loose fabric of the hospital gown, filled him with pride and gloom. Very soon, the belly he had watched grow, expand and move would be no more, and an infant, the size of a small watermelon, would replace it. 

Wrapping his arm around her lower back, supporting her labour movements, Eren gently guided (name) towards the hospital bed. The hospital room was dimly lit, with only the sound of (name’s) heavy breathing, the soft hum of machines and the gentle beeping of monitors.

As they reached the bed, Eren helped (name) lay down. She sank into the mattress, letting out a relief smile as he fluffed up the pillows behind her and carefully tucked the sheets around, ensuring she was warm and comfortable. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his love and concern evident in his tired eyes.

(name) smiled up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude and affection as she whispered. “Thank you.”

Eren returned to his seat beside her, his heart swelled with love as he gazed at his wife and her swollen middle.

With each contraction that belted through, came a bolt of agony that consumed (name’s) entire being. She yelled at the top of her lungs, her face flushed with frustration and pain, as her eyes squeezed shut. She gripped Eren’s hand tightly, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip and clamped her lips together as she pushed. 

Eren could see the pain etched on his wife's face and could feel the heat of her breath against his skin as she struggled through each contraction– she was exhausted, stressed and in pain. 

“You’re doing amazing, baby,” Eren whispered, his voice glinting between hints of admiration and concern. “I’m so proud of you. Just breathe, okay? You’ve got this.”

(name) nodded, her head bobbing to the side as she focused on tempering her breathing, desperate to find a rhythm that would ease the pain. Eren stood by her side, offering words of encouragement and gentle touches, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of labour.

“Eren?” (name) spoke, her voice shaky.

“Yeah, baby?” Eren replied, offering a warm smile.

(name) swallowed deeply, and slowly opened her mouth, yet no words emerged. Instead, a strangled cry escaped her lips, the dam of her emotions breaking in a rush of pain and despair, and the feeling of overwhelmingness. Tears streamed down her cheeks, unchecked and unashamed as she wailed. “I-I should have taken the epidural. It hurts so much.”

Eren wrapped his arm around as best as he could, minding the side rails that separated him from his wife and the nurses working diligently around him. He held her face as she wept, and muttered words of tenderness and reassurance. “It's okay baby, you're doing great. Just a couple more pushes and he’ll be here. Okay? I know it hurts but you're almost done.”

As (name’s) tears began to subside, her chest heaved upwards and downwards in sporadic tremors. She lifted her head, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and gazed at her husband. “...Eren…”

“I know baby,” Eren whispered. He leaned forward, pressing his chest against the side rail, and pressed a kiss to the side of (name’s) head and then to her soiled cheek. “You’ll be okay.”

The pain returned in stronger and more intense waves, and (name) howled. She writhed in discomfort and agony, jeering her head from left to right and squeezed Eren’s hand tighter. Her face contorted into a mean scowl, her breath coming in short and sharp gaps as she pushed and then exhaled and then pushed, inhaling deeply. 

And when the pain stopped, Eren pampered (name) with his comforting touch; wiping away her tears and soothing her trembling figure with careful rubs. He held her as best as he could from beside her bed and urged her softly, his feathery voice a timid facade to the pacing worry pumping through his blood. 

In a stop-start fashion, (name) pressed through labour steadily as the doctor on call and the nurses bustled around the room. They worked in perfect harmony, their movements choreographed with precision and and expertise. They checked (name’s) vitals, monitored the baby’s heart rate and adjusted the beeping monitors every so often.

And in the centre of it all, (name) laboured through her contractions, tears brimmed between her eyes. Sweat glistened above her brows, her breath escaping through ragged gasps and tired pleas. 

“Alright, (name),” one of the nurses spoke, her voice gentle yet firm. “A couple more pushes and the baby will slip on out.”

(name) moaned tiredly and turned away, stuck in a lonesome daze. She could feel the wave of emotions building inside of her: doubt, resentment; anguish. Such emotions weighed heavily on her stomach, yanking at her resolve, her courage, her joy, until she crumbled.

The hospital room filled with the sound of soft, muffled sobs as (name) laid still, her sullen face tucked behind the few plaits draped across the side of her face, tears pooled down her cheeks and soiled her bed sheets. “I just want…I just want it to be over.”

Eren stared down at (name’s) trembling figure, dejection burned through his eyes. He reached out, took her hand, intertwining it in his own, and called her delicately. “(name).” He spoke, squeezing her hand.

“(name)– baby look at me,” He retorted firmly, beckoning her over with a gentle touch to the shoulder. “Look at me.”

She turned to him, her eyes welled with tears and hummed sullenly. “Yes.”

Eren spoke earnestly, his voice filled with conviction. “I know it hurts. I can’t even begin to imagine how it feels but our baby, your baby is ready and he wants to come out and the more we wait, the harder it is on him.”

“But–”

Eren shook his head. “I know. But he’s coming, he’s coming out to see you.”

(name) sniffled, a single tear rolled down her cheek as she took in Eren’s words. She squeezed his hand, holding it to her chest and whispered, her shaky voice thick with emotions. “Okay.”

Unweaving her fingers from Eren’s, (name) slowly sat up and lurched herself forward. Her chest pressed against her middle, her hands gripping the handles of her bed. A fierce look flashed through her eyes as with the last drop of strength left in her spirit, she let out a guttural grunt.  

From between her legs, she felt the force of her baby crowing, tearing her flesh apart, and held her breath. She pushed, the baby’s head free from its cavern, and pushed, the baby’s shoulder untroubled, and pushed, the baby finally slipping into the hands of a neonatal nurse.

“There he is!”

A boy was born, and here he was nascent eyes opening, mouth rooting for milk.

He shrieked and finicked, shackled from neck to bottom and damp, and toted away from his lustrous mother to a bassinet, the thick air that once comforted him replaced by the palpable sense of anticipation and excitement echoed through alien voices and strange objects that toyed at his skin.

“Would Dad like to cut the umbilical cord?” 

The nurse beckoned Eren over, a pair of scissors in hand and journeyed him to the bassinet. With trembling hands, Eren carefully cut the plump and pale cord, severing the physical bond that had sustained their child in the womb for nine long months. As he did so, a wave of adoration washed over him, a sense of deep joy and fulfilment.

And then, after what felt like an eternity the infant fell to the solace of his (name’s) bare chest, a white blanket draped across his body. He was dry after a brief wipe down but gleamed beautifully like no other, purple and all. 

Erem glanced over his newfound family, tears rooting from the brims of his eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of (name’s) head as she leaned into his touch, sighing woefully. His heart swelled with tenderness and relief, as gaze down (name) and their tiny newborn held in her arms. 

"He’s here," he spoke between shaky breaths and a sniffle, a prideful smile pulling on his face. "You did it, baby."

[mikkomacko]

I haven’t given reader any angst yet, I can’t stop thinking about that last chapter with Quinn, and there’s been so many asks about the twins so that’s my inspo here I guess.

So when the twins are about two or three months old they go through a sleep regression phase while becoming extremely colicky. Normally she could handle a bit less sleep for her girls, but they just won’t stop crying. It’s nothing wrong with them medically, at least that’s what the pediatrician keeps telling her when she calls every couple hours, but she literally cannot calm them down no matter what she tries. This goes on for a week or so, and then she breaks. Nico comes home to her sobbing in the rocking chair in the nursery while she’s trying to calm the girls, muttering something about Quinn being right. Of course Nico is livid, he was just learning to be okay with Quinn being in his boys life and now he wants to smash his head into a brick wall again, but he has three very distressed girls to take care of first. He quickly checks that the twins are okay and safe before taking into his arms and pulling her into their room to calm her and tuck her in. It takes a while, but he eventually soothes her by reminding her that Quinn only did it because he felt guilty about what he did to the boys and lashed out at her because she was what he should’ve been. After he gets her to eat and drink something and take a nap, he goes to the twins so he can try his hand at soothing them. Once they’re asleep he whispers to them “Mama needs you to be extra cute when you get up, okay?”

Nico briefly plots to kill Quinn slowly and painfully, but settles for going extra hard on him in their next sparring session. “A little broken hand won’t kill Quinn” he thinks to himself.

-🦉

Ugh this one hurt oh my god poor reader just wants to be a good mom to her babies and Quinn is literally haunting her (ironic really because he still has nightmares of her killing him)

Imagine it’s when Nico is on like a business trip or away for the night too and she’s trying so hard to be strong, to not need him because she’s their mom, she should be able to handle one night.

But everything is quickly crashing and burning and she can’t get herself to calm down enough to get the girls to calm down and she’s frantically calling him in the middle the night, guilty because it’s obviously scared the crap out of him to answer the phone to her whimpering and the girls screaming in agony in the back.

All she can keep telling him is that she just can’t do it, that Quinn was right, she can’t be a real mom no matter how hard she tries. She had trials with the boys and still wasn’t ready for this.

Nico literally has to drop everything and try and get home, keeping her on the line because he’s so scared something is going to happen or it’ll get worse if he can’t hear her, can’t talk to her.

He has to pretty much shut and lock the babies in their cribs crying while he takes reader to the room, running her a warm bath and promising that it will be ok. And she’s all sad, puffy and red eyes.

“I couldn’t even go one night without you.”

“To be fair, there’s two of them and one of you. And they got their mama’s attitude, that’s for sure.”

It’s enough to make her laugh a bit, to tease Nico back that he’s no walk in the park either and then he’s wiping at her face with a damp cloth, making sure she’s ok before going to get the babies.

He puts them in the bath with her, even when she’s like “Nico please no they’re just gonna scream again if I hold them” he makes her cradle them to her chest in the warm water.

Feeling her skin, the familiar smell of her and the soothing water gets them to calm down to just hiccups and then she’s cleaning their tear stained faces too, telling them she’s sorry for freaking out.

And Nico is just watching her, his heart about to beat right out of his chest and lowering his voice into a pitch that a baby girl would talk in when he says, “it’s ok mama. We still love you because you’re the best mama in the world. Even daddy says so.”

He gets them out of the bath, one by one drying off his girls and getting clean clothes on them. It’s almost the early hours of the morning by the time you’re crawling into the king size bed and Nico is laying the twins down in one crib together, and he’s running his fingers through they downy hair all “we gotta be better for mama tomorrow ok? She cares so much, loves you both so much that any tears will just break her heart.”

And even though it’s all fine by the time he’s holding your sleeping form, he dreams of getting back at Quinn for it.

God forbid Quinn is around Jersey at this time because he won’t be getting a word out in front of Nico before he’s swinging for his jaw.

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Black Out Days

Gale x F! Tav

18+ chronic pain, drug use (weed), unintentional aphrodisiac (slutweed), groping, dry humping, breast worship (f!), fingering (f!), body caging, roughness, sub/dom, tenderness

Tav's pain rising to an unbearable level, she indulges in some found herbs to find relief. But her sanctuary is laced with some heated side effects...

Masterlist

-

"Please, please I've had enough." She moaned, head resting against cool river stones.

The pain had been spiking over the base of her skull all day in excruciating arcs. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open, force her face to be impassive.

Between every horrible thing that had been happening to them, her chronic pain was her own burden to bear. She hadn't told anyone besides Halsin, the sweet man helped her as much as he could with what was available.

Nothing made her feel worse than being a burden, so she trudged on in silence. Still the leader they needed. Gods only know how she ended up in that position in the first place.

Crouching at the riverside, she gripped at slick stones, whimpering. Finally letting go of her lovingly crafted mask of health. Wanting to slam her insolent head into the earth, but knew that would offer no relief.

Scrambling hands reached into her pack. At the goblin camp, she had pocketed a jar of promising looking herbs.

She brought the unsealed jar to her nose.

Musky, sweet, near sulphuric.

Yes, praise the Gods. Halfling weed.

Packing Halsins borrowed pipe, she leaned back on haunches, the new movement making her stomach spin threateningly. If she could stretch this supply out it could sustain her, at least until she could slip into to an apothecary.

Flicking her fingers, she brought a small flame to the bowl. Breathing in slowly.

As soon as the smoke met her lungs, a spreading warmth caressed up the back of her spine. Gentle fingers splaying up, cradling the base of her skull. The agony dulling into a veiled hissing. Still crouched in the grass, but far from where she sat.

Tears of relief fell down her face. Gods, she could breath again. Body pulled down deliciously yet so much lighter.

She sighed, leaning her head back. Taking a moment to get lost in the crisp night air, the sounds of moving water, insects calling for one another in the dark. Finally able to perceive more than her anguish.

Standing, she headed back towards the orange point of their campfire. Body awash in calm.

As she re-entered their little world a new sensation sidled up to her spreaded peace.

A soothing heat slipped down her front, pressing an insistent touch inside of her pelvis.

Oh.

Kneeling near the campfire, she examined the jar more thoroughly. Lifting the bottom, she found a small scuffed label written in scratchy hand.

Halfing Weed; Succubus Spittle 5%

Hissing a breath between her teeth, she closed her eyes in defeat. Fucking goblins.

Slick already pooling between her legs, she groaned in frustration. Of course her savior came with a demand.

Already, she knew this was not nearly enough to deter her from the alternative. But it didn't make it any less vexing.

Hips already rocking against nothing, she was infinitely thankful that the camp had turned in for the night. Even Astarion off hunting for a few hours, at least.

Especially him, she knew he had the skills she needed in this moment. But she didn't want to do that to him. From one veiled mask to another, she could tell he didn't want her that way.

Dizzy with heat, she rose to head to her tent. More than willing to deal with this desire alone. She had a sure hand and a vivid imagination, it would be an easy burden to bear.

Her infatuation with the wizard could be tonight's theater of the mind. Wide shoulders, soft brown eyes, hair that brushed against his clavicle. The veins in his forearms when he pushed up his sleeves, large hands twisting and pulling with blue magic.

She moaned, and clapped her hand over her mouth.

Reign yourself in, Tav. Gods.

As if summoning him from her salacious imagination, he emerged from his tent.

Drowsily greeting her, he wandered towards the water pump, kneeling next to it. Pulling the lever, he opened his mouth and started swallowing what of the divulge of water he could catch.

She stood stock still, watching this innocuous moment like a wolf watches a rabbit. The desire pooled in her pelvis boiling over.

Wiping his mouth, he rose back to feet. Seeming to fully see her then.

"Tav, you alright? You seem a little flushed, in a haunted type of way."

Gods forgive her for what she was about to do.

Taking his hand, she wordlessly pulled him into his tent.

"What-" Her body cut him off, pressing hard into his.

Running her hands up his taut back, she buried her face into his neck. The curve of his waist bending up into shoulders making her moan softly.

He was so warm, so solid against her pushing. Smelling of old books and leather. Her hand rising to tangle into his hair, tugging gently.

His body seemed to go weak then, gripping onto her for support.

"Tav, Gods..." He shivered.

His voice bringing her back to herself for a moment, she made to pull away. But his hands held her anchor to him.

"Please, don't stop." He pleaded.

Like a flint sparking, she dove back in. Hips fluid and insistent against his. Gathering his sleep shirt in her demanding hands. Pulling his head back to release his neck to her. Pulsing, biting, suckling into the soft flesh.

The herb removing all inhibition, she was a growling animal against him. Hands pinning and pulling, mouth hungry and salivating.

He fell to knees, and she followed him down. Straddling over his lap, licking an obscene line up his panting throat.

His length already a pillar pushing against her. Hands catching her writhing hips, pulling them flush to him.

Her head fell back then, the friction Gods sent. The slick already pooled in her underclothes welcoming him.

Something seemed to snap in him.

His hands wrenched her sleep shirt over her shoulders. Caging over her body, pushing her down on his bedroll.

"Yes," She moaned, falling open for him.

His mouth pushed into hers, gripping the back of her head.

The heat coming off of him was making her head spin. Intoxicating her body into liquid, crashing against him in waves. All smothered soft calls and silent demanding mouths.

Tangling into him like it was all she knew. All her body could know was getting as close as she could without being inside.

He hitched her leg up over his hip and ground down hard. Groaning in the back of his throat. Chest lit up purple, eyes glowing.

Concern arced through her stifling heat.

She cupped the sides of his face, bringing his eyes to hers.

The question in her eyes reached him. Hips still pistoning, he nodded.

"Please, I want to."

"Then take what you want." She gasped out, leading his head down.

He dove on her breast, licking her hard tip into his warm mouth.

"Fuck," She hissed, back arching.

She tried to reach for his sleep pants but his hand caught her wrist, forcing it above her head.

Pushing her underclothes down her hips, he rubbed hard against her clit. Blurring his hand.

Choking out a moan, she writhed helplessly. His body keeping her pinned and open. Splayed fully against him.

His mouth switched sides, taking up her soft untouched breast. The slurping suckle his tongue pulled against her peak making her mewl.

"Please, Gale. Inside." She pleaded, bucking her hips as much as his hold would allow.

He pushed two fingers inside her, moan muffled against her flesh.

"You're so wet," He groaned.

"You. All you." She moaned, sentences and their structures utterly lost.

But those words must have been more than enough. His fingers began slamming inside her, hooking towards her navel.

Her head fell back, gripping his head to her breast. The force of his fingers rocking her back and forth.

He was the tide and she a ship, unanchored and tossing through the waves.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She whined as the pressure in her pelvis tilted up, threatening collapse.

He pulled her engorged peak between his teeth and she was thrown overboard.

Her legs arched up, clamping around his hips. Back bending, the force of the pleasure striking through her was near agony. Completely stealing her voice away, only gasping out choking silent cries. The herbs making her reach new heights, unwinding like a tapestry pulled. Clenching hard enough around his fingers to make him groan.

She collapsed under him, head lolling. Eyes glazed and rolling.

He pulled his fingers from her, licking them clean. Leaning down to nuzzle into her neck, his beard tickling her.

"You didn't-" She started weakly.

"With the state of the orb, I think it's in all of our best interests if I obstained."

"Besides," He hummed, kissing under her jaw. "Your pleasure has more than sustained me."

"Though I am curious, what brought on this most welcome intrusion?"

She hesitated. Not wanting another person, especially him, who has so much to hurdle over already, to worry about her.

"It's this... pain I have. I found some soothing herbs and they helped. A lot actually. But with other effects."

She pulled the small jar from her strewn trousers, handing it to him.

Immediately he flipped it over to examine the bottom, and she groaned in embarrassment.

"See, that's exactly what I didn't do."

Grabbing for her shirt she instead landed on his, pulling it over her head.

He smiled at her, eyes lit up with appreciative glint.

"Ah, of course it looks better on you."

"Cozy." She sighed, the velvet material warming her through. Sleeves swallowing her hands.

He reached inside her pocket and retrieved the pipe, sparking up his fingers and bringing it to his lips.

Seeing her shock, he smiled.

"You're not the only one fighting pain." He knocked his knuckles on the burned circle in his chest.

"Besides, you seemed to be in a peaceful state. I'd like to meet you there, if you'd allow me."

"Deal." She smiled, sliding on knees to sidle up close to him again. "But only if you let me stay the night."

"Oh, you drive a hard bargain." He smiled at her, scrunching up his nose in that playful way that made her heart gallop.

As soon as he breathed in, she held his chin in her fingers. Pulling his mouth to hers, breathing in the smoke as it left him.

Starting to relax, he pulled her down with him. Sighing contently as she snuggled into him.

"Oh, careful. I could get very used to this."

~

[coirionin]

wip snippet

heyyyy, so ive been working on this cunt for a while which means an embarrassing amount of rewriting bc most of the early stuff and also most of the recent stuff i wrote i did so incredibly sleep deprived—anyway! my point issss, have a taste! this will be posted before May 24th for sure! (its in my ao3 drafts and when they say "The work will be scheduled for deletion on [insert date]." they mean that shit!) enjoy!

———

It had been one of Anakin's most well-guarded secrets, it had also been one of the greatest blessings that the Force had given him.

No one knew, at least, no one else.

Running through the desert, sand digging into his skin and flying in his eyes, lungs heaving for air, while in his hands, Anakin's lightsaber felt impossibly heavy. Against his brain, at the base of his skull, the Force kept applying pressure; it kept urging him, pulling him along.

On Tatooine, the suns always beat down on her people; they were bright and powerful, they never relished in the suffering they brought, but their existence, their nature, meant they couldn't help themselves. That to stop would mean death, and thus they lived. In the heat, against the sand, desperation permeated, it made the air waver and wane.

With a lurch at the sight of smoke against the first setting sun, Anakin nearly fell to his knees with relief, but the Force pulled at his spine, keeping its hold tight, urgent, steady.

Panting, running, and running, more than ever before, harder than ever before. He needed to get to his Mother; she was screaming, she was on fire, the scent of the burning reached his nose, the second sun had finally set. Bathing the dull landscape of Dune Seas and cracking back in a cool darkness, pure like space, the realization felt distant to Anakin. Whatever rationality he had was fighting against his despair. Like space. Echoed against the bone of his skull. Like space. His mind clawed to keep against his chest. In vain, as before him, he had become sharply aware of the Tusken camp. No, not the Tusekns. Anakin paid them no mind, his lightsaber was lit, heavy. In his arms, his Mother. Trembling, crying, full of love, and cold.

Anakin had screamed, he had screamed and screamed, loud enough to the point where his throat began to burn and crack and bleed. Anakin couldn't see and couldn't feel; his body was filled with agony and despair, and in his arms was his Mother.

The Mother who had given him up to Freedom, the Mother who had loved and cared for him, the Mother who taught him to be kind despite the cruelty, the Mother who was always gentle and firm and never faltered. The very Mother whom he had found again after losing her, and whom he refused to let go a second time.

It was so loud. It was so cold.

Fire burned him from the inside as sand scratched his unprotected flesh, but all Anakin could feel was grief.

All around him, a great heave, as though it had pushed through dense mud, wrapped itself around him, gentle and warm, bright enough to block his view but not to the point of harm. Everywhere he stretched himself out to, in hopes that it would soothe the pain of his cold Mother, it reached too. Gathering him, tenderly, as tender as a Universe could be. And unlike those times before, when Anakin worried that they would bleed into each other, melted until he couldn't taste where he ended and it began, he did not attempt to stop it. He welcomed it, wept and wailed, and broke. Into easier-to-digest pieces. All until he was no more, until he was all and everything beyond, until Anakin wasn't his grief and his pain and his loss, until Anakin was something entirely new and ancient, the unknown and the truth.

Drifting, small, in misery, the Force cradled him, whispering comfort, almost humming, it didn't echo, it barely brushed against him, it felt warm. Alive. Lost, not abandoned. He had been robbed. Anger spiked. It rose like a volcano being born and ready to erupt with its first cry. Singing, mourning, Anakin cried. What embers dared persist, all but died. Yet, he wasn't cold. He wasn't alone.

"It's okay, baby brother..." strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him back into his body with a violent yank, he didn't recognize the scent filling his lungs, just knew it was smoke, "it's okay, I've got you, 'm right here..." he didn't recognize the texture of the fabric against his face but he recognized the voice. It was his brother. "Oh, Ani..."

Owen's voice was thick, it was slow, his arms warm, strong despite their tremble as he sobbed into his shoulder. Anakin felt his legs give way. Together they both sank into the sand, their Mother between her sons, grief thickened, draped itself over their shoulders.

Present registered after that, it was almost as though he was living through a veil. Owen was never far, and neither was Beru; they were both so warm, though Anakin never managed to fight off the chill in his bones.

"Come here," Owen held out a hand, taking it, he was pulled to the floor where the older man had been sitting, sniffling as he gathered Anakin into his lap, "I remember, you know, the first time we met." He stopped to swallow down a sob, "you looked small, and skinny, even through the holo, I just knew." Owen's voice dragged itself out of his throat. When was the last time someone held him like this? "And I remember asking Mom—" Anakin sobbed quietly into Owen's chest, "if you were cold..." Curled up, trembling again, overflowing with tears, again, the Force wrapped itself around him, thrumming to the beat of Owen's heart. "She said... she told me that maybe one day. You would need a hug, that maybe... one day you'll need me..."

Everything around him dissolved into white, his face was hot, and his eyes were burning; there was blood on his lips from his throat as the feeling of hollowness eroded away at his insides. Owen held him tight. In his hair, Beru's fingers were careful, her nails gentle against his scalp, and not for the first time, Anakin hoped, with his all, that his brother could feel him, me too-me too-pain-grief-love-love-love. Even though the world remained quiet. Even though the world remained still. 

When the time to leave came, Anakin could only muster a feeble goodbye; any more and he would've burst into tears all over again. But Owen and Beru understood, they sent him away with one last hug, handing over a basket of treats, behave, Owen had said, he too was hoarse, careful-sadness-love-love was what Anakin felt. Be good, Beru had whispered, so much like his Mother, Anakin broke all over again, but the Force was there to wrap itself around him tight enough that nothing slotted out of place. She smiled, and Anakin couldn't help but smile back.

Artoo was quiet, it was the droid's bid to comfort him, he took control the moment they broke the atmosphere, Anakin was too busy crying to care, he crumbled next to the astromech, clinging to him.

Crooning, singing, humming. The Force opened itself, gasping, Anakin's grief and agony seemed to fill their ship. Letting go of Artoo, curling in on himself on the floor.

Careful, as though made of sugar glass, the Force gathered Anakin, not to contain him, but to soothe him. Warm and whole, at long last, it felt like Home. There was still this, it. Anakin was not parentless; he was not lonely, nor would he ever be, not with it here, always.

By the time he reached Coruscant, Anakin was dry of tears, and his grief was no longer a raging, all-consuming sandstorm; it was a dull wind, ringing in his head and in through his chest. Placated, stepping out of the fresher, running into Artoo, and sighing at the insistent beeping, Anakin cleared his throat.

"Artoo, don't worry," wincing at not only the feeling of speaking but also the sound of his voice, Anakin cleared his throat again, "I'll be okay, it... it'll just take some time. It's okay now."

[whisperingmidnights]

Happy 1700 followers!! Can I please request Feysand and Dove with Tending to wounds, I’m a sucker for that trope 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Is it better or worse if I tell you this is canon for late Act 3 of CS? It's vague enough that it doesn't spoil why or what happens. 👀

The blood has been cleared from the floor, but I still see it. In puddles and splatters and the footprints that trailed beneath the door to our rooms, it was there. The more optimistic view of it might be proof of life, but I can't think of it in such a light. Not when I have to sit with the torrent of pain flowing down the mating bonds, past shields too weak to withstand it.

I can bear it, of course. For them, I can bear it, but I wish we didn't have to. At least, when the blood was there, it was evidence of the pain I feel but cannot process because I didn't receive the wound.

It hurts, it hurts, and I don't know if I'll die from it but I want to. I let myself into the attached sitting room anyway. Feyre is on the lounge, curled into the corner with Nyx draped across her chest. He has yet to break his silence since their return, but at least he's sleeping now. At least he can rest. My mate runs her fingers along the column of his spine in long, soothing strokes, a pattern that always sends him right to sleep.

White bandages peek out over the cuff of her sleeve, but there's no blood on them or the cream sweater she pulled from the closet. Her eyes remain trained on the lavender throw covering her legs, and I can't tell if she's lost in a daydream or the memory of everything they endured. Either way, she doesn't see me, and I can't stop with her. Not now, not yet. Soon, though. Soon.

Neither of her sisters glance up from the vigil they're keeping at her side, seated on ottomans that must have been pulled from the depths of the public wing of the house. Tea sits abandoned on a nearby table, with full cups and a plate of small sandwiches that will not be eaten. I'll take it to the kitchen later. Everything, everything can be done later. I'll see to it all later.

I press on through the bedroom door, passing off the basket of freshly rolled bandages to the assistant healer closest to me before I wander over to stand behind Madja, currently seated at the side of our bed. Now, in the morning light, I can see the full extent of the damage.

It's an ugly wound.

From just beneath his navel to the middle of his right thigh, Rhys's flesh and muscles are split by a jagged, seeping gash. The edges are blistered and raw, burned by that unholy fire. It looks better than it did when they brought him here, how many hours was it now? It doesn't matter, time doesn't matter. At least the pus has been drained, taking with it the stench of death and rot.

He'll live, they'll live. I won't lose them to this, we'll have more time.

A sheet has been draped over the rest of him, I assume for modesty. Thankfully, the females in the room have their eyes averted. I don't know what I'd do if one of them so much as spared either of us a glance. Everything's too raw, I need them all gone so I can tend to my mates, but I don't know if that's something I can say aloud.

I follow the line of his body up and up and up to the chest that's still rising. The breaths are shallow and quicker than I'd like, but once the pain is eased, it should improve. He's home, he's home, he will improve. They will all heal, we'll be okay. I glance up at the handsome face I love so much, but I can't stand the agony etched in the lines I see there. Even sedated, it seems it's all too much to bear. He'll need something stronger if they intend for him to rest.

Azriel's speaking from the corner he and Cassian have elected to roost in, but his voice sounds as if it's at the bottom of a well. I take a breath, then another, blinking as the healer turns her ancient eyes upon me.

"-there are tonics he can take on the bedside table, but it will need to be supervised." It's the first sentence I can make out over the steady roaring in my ears. It all runs together, instructions and expectations and I'm so, so tired. "...and the dressings will need to be changed regularly, but I expect you intend to see to that yourself."

"Yes," I tell her, chilled by the hollowed-out sound of my own voice. "I covered wound care in my training, I know what to watch for."

"I don't doubt your abilities."

"Is there nothing else we can do?" Cassian asks, and I keep my back to him as I fight to keep from baring my teeth like a savage beast. Madja shakes her head, lightly patting my hand as she rises from her seat.

"We've done all we can for now. Be a dear and see me home, Cassian. These old bones need to rest before I come back here. Send one of them for me if need be, dear."

"If it's necessary," I agree, my words clipped as I struggle to override my instinctive need to fight and shred and protect my mates in this incredibly vulnerable moment. "I will take care of wrapping the wound, everyone can go. Thank you for everything."

"Are you sure you don't need-" Azriel starts, and then I do bare my teeth like a snarling hellcat. Magic flares at my fingertips, filling the air with the scent of rain and something charged and wild. They need to leave, they all need to leave before something happens that I'll regret later. My control isn't nearly as good as it should be. Not yet anyway.

"See to Feyre, if you need to care for someone. I will call if I need assistance. That will be all."

The command in my voice is strange, possessing a power I'm not sure I like. If they do not respect me as Rhys's mate in this moment, they do respect me as a lady of their court. The room clears in the span of a few heartbeats and, once the door shuts, I count my breaths until my hands cease their useless trembling.

Then I take up the vacated space at my mate's side and get to work. Careful to keep my movements quick and efficient without jostling too much, I wrap and secure bandages until the wound is covered and carefully replace the dirty sheet beneath him in an effort to keep the bed clean.

Once that's finished, I crack a window to let in the fresh air. They will heal, they will heal. It's all I can tell myself as I sink to the floor at the side of the bed and rest my head on the mattress. There will be life at the end of this yet. Centuries of it, filled with laughing babies and our family gathered around the dining table, sharing meals and birthdays and holidays. There will be life after this, we just have to get there.

I just have to get there.

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 12 - it was just for fools

"We were searching for reasons to play by the rules, but we quickly found it was just for fools." -Mary On A Cross by Ghost

Masterlist Part 11

Wonder Woman, with her extensive diplomatic training, was the perfect speaker to bring before the United Nations council. 

There was something regal about Diana, something that demanded attention from all genders and ages, her accent smooth and light with eyes hardened with barely concealed anger at what brought her to their door. 

The Anti-Ecto Acts. 

Diana understood war. There was very little she hadn’t experienced where it concerned the subject, from betrayal to a very personal loss, but now she had another chance to draw from her past. 

Prevention of a war. 

Only fools would believe a war against the Infinite Realms, the land of the End and death incarnate, that which holds every afterlife for every belief, was winnable. 

Every death on humanity’s side, was another solider for the King of the End. 

That was yet another point. 

The Once and Future Star King, Vanquisher of the Dark, Protector of the Light, Great One…. Was a Protector spirit. The spirit of a child who died wanting to be saved. 

Diana sighed, awaiting her fellow heroes in the meeting hall, Black Canary, Superman and Batman (with his ever tiny Robin) were already present. Red Robin was sat with a tablet, reading through a collection of data instead of conversing. 

It was almost seven on the dot, the meeting filled with nearly all members of the League, when Constantine portals in with a flask in one hand and a book in the other. 

“Not a word.” He grumbles around an unlit cigarette held between his lips, unceremoniously dropping into an unoccupied seat. 

Despite the surprise of John Constantine being on time for something, much less a Justice League meeting, Diana had other concerns to deal with. 

Namely, the repeal of the Anti-Ecto Acts. 

An unexpected summoning was a shard of ice in her spine, twisting like a knife of betrayal in the nerves, utter agony. Jazz had little warning, little time to brace herself before she was hooked behind her navel and yanked. 

Thank the Ancients she wasn’t in the shower, because whoever had the audacity to summon the Ghost King was not going to receive an eyeful for their trouble. 

Jazz allowed her armor to materialize, a slick sensation of water down her back soothed the lingering pain of the brutal summons, but her back plate soon settled firmly in place and irritated the nerves more so. 

Just as her helmet locked into place, sealing her fully into her armor, green smoke announced her arrival with a dramatic flair she couldn’t find humor in. 

Rested on one knee, head bowed, the Regent was quite an intimidating sight for the uninitiated. 

Her helmet, full coverage with a crown of green shards embedded into its pulsing ebony metal, only allowed the green tint of her eyes to shine through. Once her head lifted, the several shivers her gaze got proved how effective it was at unnerving others. 

With a breath, the Regent stood. 

“You have tried to summon the King of the End, why?” 

John Constantine was many things- a liar, a cheater, a non-believer- but he was certainly not a fool. He’d been against summoning the Ghost King, knowing full well to whom they would be dragging unwilling instead. Somehow the title of Regent failed to comprehend to most present, which was not Constantine’s fault in the slightest. 

(Hey, at least he was mostly sober summoning, right?) 

(Had to give credit where it’s due.) 

Bats was unamused with Constantine’s first warning of ‘Do not fuck with’ when Phantom had first shown himself, but this was ridiculous really. A message was always better than trying to summon the King, who would want to be interrupted right? 

Yet again, the Magician was overruled. 

(At least he didn’t have to sell his soul this time.) 

(The Phantom already gifted the glued together remnants to his Regent.) 

(Morbid as it was, at least John knew it was in better hands than some half wit demon he’d scammed.) 

No one answered before the Regent spoke with some amusement lacing her words, “I should have known a summon from you, Constantine, would be painful.” 

(Was it a good or bad sign that the Regent didn’t immediately call him ‘Sad Trenchcoat man’?) 

Diana politely interjected, “Greetings, My Lady. We apologize for the unfortunate experience and will endeavor to do better in future meetings.” 

(Good old Diana.)

“Greetings.” The Regent replied, helmeted head slightly tilted as she studied the others present before her, having been ignored for the time being. 

Wonder Woman pressed a fist over her heart with a slight bow of her head as she spoke again, “May I introduce the Justice League and it’s founders; Batman, Superman, and myself, Wonder Woman. You are familiar with Constantine, who is a member of Justice Dark.” 

“I am the Regent of the Realms, Lady of the Acropolis, you may refer to me as either.” Jazz intoned, serious as was only right for her titles. “I’ll ask once more… Why.” 

Constantine, despite the familiarity he held with Phantom, shivered in the presence of the Regent. The owner of his soul could command he turn on his allies, zap away his free will with only a few words. Sure, he had some doubts that the Regent would, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t. The AEA proved that the Infinite Realms had every right to declare war on the Living and its citizens would be drafted to fight in the Legion, regardless of mortality status. 

John was many things- a liar, a cheater, a non-believer- but he was not a soldier or a fool.

He would be called to arms, as a magic user and battle-blooded soldier. There would be no choice, no deal he could make that would see his fate change. 

It was fortunate that the Regent didn’t want a war, but there was only so much she could do to hold back the growing tide of angry entities that wanted vengeance on parents, siblings, and children taken from them. 

(Ancients above and below, he needed a drink.)

It was times like this that brought the Regent back to her long days of training in the Acropolis. The echo of steel against steel, dodging ecto-blasts, deflecting weapons with her bracelets, Pandora’s steady words…

Pandora was many things- Leader of the Acropolis, Guardian of Hope, teacher, advisor, so on and so forth.

Pandora might be a ghost, an Amazon tasked with guarding her box, a Warrior of the ages past, but she was ultimately the Ancient of Peace. 

The Peace she never knew in life, war-hardened as she was. Raised with one hand clutching a weapon and the other an open palm, Pandora was a diplomat at heart. War had not been kind to her, but still, she taught her pupil (the Regent) the importance of listening. 

Many issues could be solved when one took the time to shut their mouth. 

Draw weapon, draw blood.

Aim at nothing you’re not willing to destroy.

If your opponent believes they have the upper hand, break it.

(These are just a few rules of war.) 

(She knew them all by heart.)

(Each one ingrained on her body, scars a testament to a faith in her training and herself.) 

The only rule Pandora had given her where to concerned Peace was this: 

Reach for it, but know that hearts aren’t so easily swayed as minds. 

It was why Jasmine never bothered trying to negotiate with the GIW. Their hearts were black and there was no changing their minds. 

Here she was, summoned by the Justice League with their own diplomatic trained Amazon at the ready. Pandora would be proud of her sister-in-arms, because despite the Regent’s unknown threat potential Wonder Woman had not reached for the sword at her side. Instead, she’d done a traditional Amazon greeting, from one warrior to another, a sign of respect that Jasmine had not expected to ever receive outside the Acropolis. 

“We had expected to summon the King, but were unaware of a Regent, my lady.” Wonder Woman spoke, but Constantine interrupted whatever she would have said next. 

“We wanted to discuss the possibility of war against the living, Regent.” 

Jasmine snorted, the voice-modulating function of her helmet made it sound funny to her ears, “Blunt as always, Constantine. You’re worried I would order you against your allies?” 

The Sad Trenchcoat Man blinked once, twice, “Bloody Hell, you don’t waste time, do ya?” 

“You possess the power to command Constantine?” 

That question had come from Lady Gotham’s first Knight, steady with no discernible emotion in voice. His hands were resting on his utility belt, which was a bad sign of his current judgment of her character. 

“For the sake of honesty, yes, Dark Knight, as the keeper of his Soul Remnants, I could command the Magician to do my bidding.” The Regent continued, “However, it was a gift and Phantom is fond enough of the Sad one that I wouldn’t use it unless I had no other choice.” 

“What would constitute ‘no other choice’?” 

Huh, Jasmine was starting to understand why Phantom chose Batman to give the Ghost Files too. She could feel the determination and protectiveness radiating off his soul, a familiar (though less powerful) sensation she only got from her little brother. 

“War.” The Regent retorted, “I’m beginning to understand why Phantom would choose you, Knight.” 

Constantine perked up a bit, “Didn’t you avenge him?” 

“Yes.” 

Wonder Woman came forward again, “My Lady, we wish to discuss the conditions of Peace between the Living and the Infinite Realms.” 

Jasmine smiled a bit sadly, though no one could see it, “I would be honored to.” 

If anyone asked, Red Hood did not swoon when he witnessed his future wife girlfriend kick a man straight in the balls so hard he saw God. 

Jazz was a beacon during a Gotham night, beautiful red hair seeming to catch fire with every light that danced across it, shoulders back and head held high his girl resumed her steady pace towards her apartment. This was a typical night for them, minus the would-be mugger and Jazz being unaware of the Red Hood following from above to make sure she got home safely. 

(Jason hadn’t been able to convince her to carry a gun.)

(Nonetheless, he knew his girl could take care of herself, but that didn’t stop the worry.) 

Hood wasn’t convinced about the safety of the area bordering his Alley, The Ridge,  with two relatively unknown metas acting as it’s Vigilantes and seeming to drive down the crime rate in the neighborhood to near extinction faster than he’d seized control of his own territory. It was odd that the metas weren’t crossing into the Alley, seeming to go around it and more into Gotham proper when they decided to roam, as if they respected the Red Hood claim more than the other bats. 

(Wasn’t that just a hoot.) 

(Two non-bats had more respect for him than his own family.) 

The Ridge was the lesser known little brother to Crime Alley, with its residents being mostly three-jobs and a drug problem demographic, but with Phantom and Regent the area had begun to show a bit more life. Sure, most of the builds were on the wrong side of dilapidated, hanging on with duct tape and a wad of gum, but when it was just bright out enough- no matter the time of day- Phantom’s ice can be seen glinting from miles around as it curved itself around foundations and floors to stabilize the structures. It hadn’t melted in the slightest the two months since it’s been formed. Hood had even tried to get a sample for testing, but the ice would not budge. Hell, he’d even taken a cheap shot at it- nothing. Well, except for the fact that you could now see a bullet encased within the ice. 

Phantom was a chill guy, apparently. 

(Hood internally groaned at the unintentional pun.) 

(Quick mental note made to shoot Dick in… well, the dick.) 

Red Hood had been gritting his teeth against the warm sensations of protect-anxiety-nervous for days, sensing danger every time he closed his eyes. Something had invaded Gotham and was messing with the Pit. 

No, not the Pit. The Pit was gone, no longer bubbling in his gut or green edging his vision, it was gone and replaced with something else. 

Something that gave him trouble, but was definitely a step up from Pit Madness. 

(And what a time for it to vanish, with Jason dating Jazz no more bloody nightmares when she was in his arms.)

He’d followed that ball of anxiety in his chest across Gotham, unconsciously avoiding Bruce’s usual patrol route and he climbed up to one of the gargoyles that kept vigil over the clock tower. Barbie hadn’t opened the comms to ask him what the hell are you doing here, but he wasn’t going to waste what little time he had with Phantom before he had to return to the Alley. 

The kid wasn’t older than Tim, but was ethereal in his form that felt cold to Hood. There wasn’t any sign that Phantom had been hurt by the Drs. Fenton, but Hood was all too aware of how looks could be deceiving. 

(The fuckers had vivisected him.) 

With every word passed between them, had Hood confirming the Ghost Files information to be accurate as far as Phantom was concerned. He was a teenager, a ghost in Gotham who was under the protection of the Regent and Ghost King. 

(Though incredibly corrupted, Barbara had been able to find a few frames of clarity.) 

(Lo and behold, the death of those bastards.) 

(He knew he recognized the armored figure, but couldn’t figure it out.) 

(It was right there on the tip of his tongue.) 

That same ball of anxiety loosened its hold with Phantom, a sense of protect-worry overwhelmed whatever else was in his chest. 

Phantom was a kid, ghost or not, vigilante or not. 

(No more dead robins.) 

It took two days and twelve hours for Jason to finally connect the dots between Regent and why in Hell he felt he knew the armored knight. 

Jazz was in her kitchen, hair braided and swinging back and forth against her back as she hummed and swayed in time with the soft music playing. His girl looked good in his Gotham Knights t-shirt, shorts revealing her toned thighs and legs, neckline of her borrowed shirt riding low enough to reveal several hickies he’d left on her earlier on the couch. Pride warmed his chest as he watched his darling Jazz, love for her settled deep into his bones. He knew she was the one for him, no going back, even if she didn’t know everything about him-Red Hood, his death, etc.

Jazz was made of steel and iron, forged with love and cracked with betrayal. Who had betrayed her in the past was obvious, her parents, their death must’ve been a mixed bag. Not to mention making the decision to allow their souls to be claimed by the Regent of the Infinite Realms. 

He had no doubt she would be unafraid of his nighttime persona, but he didn’t think he could handle her judgment of his past sins. He loved her too much and wanted to be good. 

The music stopped, dragging Jason out of his thoughts to find Jazz watching him with concern plain on her face. 

“Jace?” She lightly called for him, helpless to her he rose and gently wrapped her in his arms, her head tucked comfortably under his chin. 

“I’m ok, Jazz, just have a lot on my mind.” 

His girl hummed lightly, the sound vibrating slightly through Jason’s chest where her head rested. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

“They’re not worth that much.” 

Jazz pinched his side in retaliation for his lightly self-demeaning comment, but ultimately let it go. Another reason he loved her, she didn’t tolerate his bullshit. She’d been horrified to hear his comments about his self-worth, as much as he was joking, and had firmly threatened to punt his ass into the sun if he didn’t start getting a better self-image. 

To his credit, he listened and began seeing Harley for counseling, which he knew he’d needed when he’d finally gotten a working braincell again after his dip in the line green Kool-aid. He’d put it off long enough, believing that the Pit wouldn’t let him remain calm enough to discuss his abandonment issues and mental health. 

The Pit wasn’t churning in his gut anymore so any anger he felt was all Jason’s, and Jason’s alone. It was oddly satisfying to know that he was once again responsible for how he handled his anger. 

Jazz never really demanded anything, only insisting on some boundaries at the start of their relationship when it was difficult to keep his hands to himself while she was in his sight. His darling was the same this why she set those boundaries so they could get to know each other without it just devolving into sex. 

Sure, they have done some heavy petting and Jason definitely liked leaving his mark on her, but they hadn’t felt compelled to go further. Now that they had been together a little over a month the heat between them settled into a slow summer in his blood, no more threat of them acting like a pair of degenerate dumbasses with lesser brain function. 

Not that Jason would ever be against having sex with Jazz, he loved her and wanted to know her in every sense, but he had to confess several things before he could allow himself to be put off guard with his pants down. The big Y-incision scar on his chest was horrific and Jason didn’t want to scare his girl away before he had a chance to come clean. He wanted, no, needed Jazz to accept every part of him- life, death, Jason and Red Hood. He was ready for her to know the truth. 

What he wasn’t ready for, like last time, was the bomb.

A/N: Yes, beta read by @meditating-cat! Great beta reader, really appreciate the quick response and notes. Thanks!

We're gonna have a bit of a time jump between the summoning and the cliffhanger, which means that Jazz being summoned happens after. I wrote it this way for a reason... I think. Don't quote me on that.

Anyways, special red tint this time, because I just watched Death in the Family for the first time before writing this part and...I didn't like it. No, I'm not sure why I don't either. Jason is my favorite character for a reason.

Now, if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go read Wayne family adventures to make myself feel better.

Thanks for reading!

PS: 3k words???

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 17

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Are we ready to hate Andy some more? It seems to be a pattern around here.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Your head swells, throbbing even in the silence. You can hear Andy once in a while, distant and vague, moving around the floor below. You hug your stomach as it caves in on itself. You know you’re hungry but the thought of food just makes you nauseous. You stay hidden, behind your eyelids, beneath the blankets, and wallow in hellish agony.

The pain dulls as you hear the window rattle. You dare to glance past your lashes and see a few droplets along the glass, the sky dark and swarthy with clouds. The glare of streetlights glints off the pelleting rain as it speckles the window.

Some pressure lets off but not enough. You roll over and sink down again. You long for sleep, you crave it. Those long, deep sleeps that make the hours disappear, that skew days, and help forget your life. That heavy void next to death.

You hover between the guest room and your unconscious. Like a pendulum you swing between what’s real and the doubts that paint dire visions on your eyelids. Amber’s pleas at the library, her accusations, her disappointment. You almost want to believe she’s telling the truth. That maybe you are wrong.

Even if you are, it’s too late. That futility drags you further down the pit. You fall onto your back and drape your arm over your face. You whimper as your whole body aches.

“Dove,” Andy’s voice startles you.

You let your arm slip down to your chest as you see his shadow in the doorway. He fills it easily, appearing even bigger as the light behind from the hallway limns his silhouette. He steps over the threshold and closes the door. You whimper as you lose him in the dark. You can’t tell if this is a nightmare or not.

He finds his way to the small lamp on the bedside table, a loud click before it blooms to life. You groan again as he looks down at you. His hands go to his hips as you shield yours over your eyes. Even the soft yellow haze is too much for you.

You shut your eyes and feel the bed shift. He sits on the edge and you wince as he touches your arm. He is as hot as fire. You want him to go. You want to be alone. The only person who’s ever seen you like this is Amber, you don’t want him to know how truly pathetic you are.

“Hey,” he coos softly, “you alright?”

Your mouth is dry. Your throat too. You have to peel your tongue back to make it work and swallow deeply, trying to wet it. Your voice crackles as you force it out, “sleepy. My head hurts.”

“Aw, honey,” he touches your forehead. His warmth is almost soothing as he covers your skin with his palm. The scent of his cologne whispers up your nose. “How about I get you some tea? You should have something to drink at least.”

“I’m… just going to sleep,” you wilt as you try to turn your face away from him. He is too strong. “I’m okay…”

“Honey,” he girds as he brings his hand down your cheek and strokes it, “you haven’t been eating. I’m not stupid. Have some tea, that’s the least you can do.”

“Andy…” you squeak and reach up to touch the back of his hand, only to recoil shyly as you feel the thick veins along the back of it, “I’ll eat tomorrow.”

“Dove, you’re going to sit up,” he insists, trailing his hand down your neck, a shiver crawling over you as his other brushes up your arm.

When he has you firmly by the shoulders, he sits you up. You whimper as the stabbing pain it sends up your spine to the base of your skull. Your head lolls forward and you hold it, whining at the thrumming agony.

“Andy… please,” you croak, “I need to sleep.”

“No, you need to take care of yourself,” he retorts, leaning in to fix the pillows behind you. He stacks them up and props you back against them, “alright, you stay like that,” he folds the blanket to your waist, “and I’ll go make you some tea.”

“It hurts,” you keep your head in your hand, “I told you…”

“Look, Amber let you be like this, because that meant she could control you,” he rests his hand on your leg. You twitch and keep your face hidden as you peek past your palm, staring at his fingers. On you. Touching you. “You’re not going to fall back into old habits, right, honey?”

He finally moves his hand away from your lap and pulls yours from your face, “you’re going to be better, I know it. You know, I’m just helping you. I’m helping break the patterns she made.” He gives a stern frown, “she conditioned you to be like this, you are not this.”

“Please,” you yank your hand down and clasp both over your chest, “I’m tired… I feel sick.”

“You aren’t sick. You’ve been starving yourself,” he accuses, “you’re lucky I didn’t make you sit at that table and clear a plate. What I am going to do is watch you drink the tea I make you. All of it.”

He stands and heaves darkly. You move your arms to hug yourself and hang your head. You’re ashamed. Amber was never like this, she was always subtle, she never accused you. But maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he’s right. She only enabled your helplessness.

You sniff, “thank you, Andy.”

He hums, gristly like a growl, and touches your hair, “I’m only trying to help, dove.”

“I know,” you squeak and keep your eyes down, ashamed.

He turns stiffly on his heel. You wait as he leaves, almost reluctantly, and shudder as another tide of pain flows through you. You ache to the bone, your insides feel as if they’re peeling away, and your head is pounding like a drum.

You let your head fall back against the pillows as you slouch into them. You don’t have the strength to sit up. Your arms slip down and your hands lay lazily on your lap.

You listen to the small clinks and creaks from below. The house muffles a lot of sound, you might even assume the little noises were nothing more than the natural settling of the house. Andy’s footsteps aren’t clear until they’re down the hall and you brace yourself for his arrival.

He comes into the room with a steaming cup. You notice the gray dove painted on the porcelain, a string of leaves framing it. He lowers himself to the edge of the bed again and takes your hand. He puts the cup in your hand, weaving your fingers through the handle before cautiously letting go.

You bring the rim near your nose and inhale. You blow away the steam but it rises quickly again. You feel the heat roiling off of it. You lower it to rest in your lap and raise your drooping eyes to Andy. He’s watching you intently.

“I’m sorry,” you utter.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, “I’m worried. I wanna make sure you’re okay. You being sorry means I’m angry. I’m not.”

You gulp down your words. He sure sounds angry. You look back at the amber coloured tea. It smells slightly gingery but you’re not sure of the flavour.

“Promise, I’ll drink it.”

“Like I said, I’m not going until you do,” he says.

“It’s really hot.”

“So wait for it to cool down,” he instructs as if you’re a child. “I don’t mind waiting.”

You languish in the ensuing silence. Your eyes are drawn to the subtle twiddle of his fingers, how he runs his thumb up the side of his index. You only notice then that he’s changed. He’s in a pair of gray sweats and a dark blue tee. He must be on his way to bed. That thought makes you feel worse; you’re keeping him awake.

You raise the cup and blow on it again. You brave the scald of the tea and take a big gulp. You force it down as the heat rolls over you. It is soothing if not a bit stringent.

“Good,” he says as he turns his head, “is it okay?”

“Mhhm,” you nod, not able to muster the fib out loud. The flavour tugs at your cheeks and clings to your tongue.

“Dove,” he softens his tone, “I’m sorry if I come across angry, it’s not what I mean, you know? I always had that problem. My worry translates to something else. I could never be angry with you, but I’m scared.”

“Scared?” You lean the cup on your chest, cradling it with both hands.

“Yeah, I’m scared for you,” he says as if it’s obvious, “seeing you the way you’ve been, I want you to be healthy. I want you to be happy.”

Your eyes sting and you lower your lashes. You’re embarrassed. Despite all your effort, he saw through you.

“Tomorrow’s a new day, huh? You’ll get up and have breakfast with me, and we’ll start again,” he puts his hand on your knee, squeezing through the blankets, “I’m here for you, honey. We’re in this together.”

You stare into the tea. His words make your heart race. Together? His touch adds to the fluttering. His thumb moves, back and forth, and you repress a shudder. You never noticed before how often he touches you. You’re not used to it.

“Okay…” you resign to the depths of the tea, “I’ll try.”

🍵

You don’t get out of bed the next day. You can’t. You hug a pillow over your head, your tears staining the bedsheet as they slip out unbidden. You feel that hollowness, the sort in which you feel like everything inside you is just draining out of you.

When Andy comes down the hall, you hear him. You listen to the bathroom door click and the subsequent flush of the toilet. There’s some time before he emerges again and he continues to the stairs. You exhale, thinking he might have forgotten your empty promise.

No. He returns. He steps echoing and sonorous in your mind as he comes back upstairs. He taps on your door. You don’t move. He knocks louder and calls your name. You can’t.

He opens the door, “dove,” he says.

You stay still, arm hooked over the pillow you keep over your head. You sense him get near but don’t react as you feel him grip your shoulder. He shakes you but you don’t respond. It’s as if he exists on the other side of a wall. 

“Dove, come on, I’m gonna get breakfast ready,” his voice sounds miles away despite his proximity, “you like pancakes?”

Your stomach growls loudly. You let it constrict but don’t move. You feel a tug on the pillow and grasp it tighter. Can’t he take a hint? Go away. Leave me alone.

He grabs the pillow with both hands and rips it away. You cry out and hide beneath your bent arm. He sighs as he tosses the pillow onto the floor.

“Why are you doing this?” He rasps.

You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how to explain it. You are not doing this, but you can’t stop it. You can’t do anything, that’s the problem.

“You have a lot to do. Work on your resume? Do some painting?” He says it as if it should be encouraging, as if it isn’t oppressive and crushing. “Spend some time with me, dove.” He bends over you, rubbing your shoulder, “you’re okay. Let me take care of you, honey.”

You sniffle and remain shielded behind your arm. You feel the tension change in his touch as he grips you firmly. He puts a knee on the bed, leaning on it.

“Don’t ignore me,” his voice takes on an edge that chills you. 

You suck back your tears and shake your head, speaking into the mattress, “please, go… leave me alone–”

“Honey, don’t speak to me like that,” he warns, “I’m being nice and very patient. You’ll feel better once you eat but you need to get up and get dressed.”

You tremble in a surge of dread and guilt. He’s figuring it out. You’re useless, you’re nothing. 

You wriggle free of his hand and roll onto your back. You push yourself up, dizzy and wobbling as you can barely keep yourself upright. You look at him through the dim shadow of the drawn curtains.

“Please, I can’t–”

“Stop saying that,” he hisses, “you can. Why are you being like this?”

“Andy,” you whimper.

“Is this because of her? Because your sister? You know she was only ever using her and you’re what? Crying over her? I’m trying to help you move on. To help you grow. She never wanted that for you–”

“No, no! Be quiet. Don’t say that,” you cover your ears, “please, stop–”

He goes to say something but thinks better of it. You watch how his jaw squares and ticks, “but it’s the truth. You were just a toy for her. She could play with her doll and make herself feel more human.”

“Please,” you beg, panic swirling in your chest, “please, that’s not true.”

“You know it is, that’s why you’re here. That’s why you left her. Dove, you did that, not me.”

“Please, please, please,” you hunch over your knees, hugging them as you rock, “stop it. Stop.”

“I’m not going to stop telling the truth,” he sneers, “but you’re going to stop acting like a child. You’re going to get out of bed and come eat–”

He grabs your wrist and tugs it away from your legs. You feel a sudden bloom, a frantic sort of sensation, fear that drowns you to the point of gasping. You lash out with your other hand, hitting his wrist as you free your other arm. He grunts as you fall back against the mattress.

“What– why would you do that?” He growls.

“You were hurting me.”

“I’m helping you,” he insists, “you are being a brat.”

“I’m not. I told you to leave me–”

“You’re in my house, this is my bed, my room, my kindness that you are living on,” he barks over you. You wince and reel from the sheer volume, the furious tone of his voice, “the least you can do is get dressed and come eat breakfast with me.”

You clutch your cheeks and pout at him, “why are you yelling?”

He sighs and his eyes flicker. You shrink down as you stare up at him. He crosses his arms, then pulls them apart. He brings his hands up to his face and combs his fingers through his beard.

“I don’t like to yell,” his voice cracks, “I don’t yell, dove.” He turns away, “I’ve never… I’m sorry.” He strides away, still holding one side of his head, “not until you.”

He staggers, as if he can barely keep his balance, and leaves the door open in his stead. You stare after him and it all sinks in. It’s all your fault. He’s right. You’re a child, a brat, and you pushed him over the edge. He’s done all this for you and all you can do is lay in bed and mope.

[cartwrong]

Some words for you:

Flight

Cut

Wire

Grenade

Help

thank youuuuu. I didn’t get to these last flight so saved them for my next one :)

flight from something tragic burning in my blood:

“Where the fuck is River Cartwright?”

That was certainly the question of the fucking day, only Guy didn’t know the answer to it. He didn’t bother with Dander or Coe. She was probably high and who the fuck knew what went on in his head. Instead he went down another flight of stairs and asked the only one of his fucking idiots who might be one percent useful at the moment.

“Track Cartwright’s phone,” Lamb said, knowing that Guy would likely be following him down in a minute or so; once she called Cartwright and he didn’t answer.

Right on cue she walked in, followed by Catherine. “River’s not answering his phone.”

“Me either,” Standish added.

cut from into the trees with empty hands:

River dragged himself to stand slowly and painfully, as if his body was fighting through molasses to move upright. His injured leg could barely hold his weight, and River almost toppled back to the ground as he attempted to hobble on his good leg. He scowled at the tourniquet that was cutting off any blood flow to the rest of his leg, though truthfully, he wasn’t sure if it was the tourniquet or the wound itself leading to his inability to bear weight.

wire from everywhere, everything:

Louisa looked small in the hospital bed. The tubes and wires made her seem fragile, and that wasn’t a word that had ever applied to Louisa Guy. He scrubbed a hand down his face, wincing when the motion made his head spin. If she was awake she’d be sending him home. As it was, he didn't know how much time he had until Catherine and Shirley — a formidable duo he wasn’t looking forward to arguing against later, especially knowing he would likely lose — forced him home to rest. At least the lights in the ICU were dimmed compared to the agony inducing lights in the waiting area.

“You have to wake up,” he muttered, barely above a whisper. “Who else is going to keep me in line?”

grenade from the untitled Frank tosses River in a river fic:

“You should leave. Preferably fucking England. Go find another haunted mansion somewhere to start your cult of child soldiers again.”

“There’s no need for hostility. I simply came here to see my son. Can’t a father see his son?” Frank asked, too nonchalant for River’s liking as if the last time they saw each other he hadn’t been led away in handcuffs moments after leaving a grenade in River’s hood.

“Enough with the son, bullshit,” River seethed.

“Come on son–”

River didn’t wait for him to say more, he punched Frank in the face.

help from the anywhere at all:

River looked away once the doctor started the stitches, and Louisa almost forgot how squeamish he was. She squeezed his hand again then, noticing how pale he had gotten. She ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to soothe him or distract him, anything to help prevent him from passing out. He puddled under her touch, so Louisa repeated it, whispering assurances and scratching the back of his head on her second pass through, where his hair was the shortest.