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loeyparker · 4 years ago

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hurt her to save her - d.m

pairing: draco x fem!reader

word count: 7k

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of death and torture

plot: getting closer to Draco during sixth year has consequences. Draco realizes that when he’s forced to hurt you in order to keep you safe from Voldemort

a/n: my HP obsession is back so I’ve returned to writing fics but i might have went overboard with this one lmao . it wasn’t requested, but if someone wants part 2 i’m gonna do it <3

Draco Malfoy had a very good memory. Besides being cunning and arrogant, he was also incredibly smart – which is precisely why he was second best in most classes. Behind the cold, uncaring façade the youngest Malfoy put out into the world however, stood a boy who remembered things he probably should have forgotten.

Lately, Draco Malfoy couldn’t remember the last time he felt anything but fear. He attempted to mask the feeling either with anger, determination or indifference but the true, raw feeling of fear was behind it all, much like a dementor guarding all his other emotions. The past summer planted dread and terror deep into his mind and the ink on his skin felt like it was seeping through his skin, entering his veins and poisoning his heart.

By the time he arrived back at Hogwarts for his sixth year, he felt drained. With the weight of the world on his shoulders, the young boy attempted to pretend to be a normal student, despite the countless sleepless nights and stray tears that sometimes escaped through small cracks in the emotional wall he’d built around him over the years. The tears only saw the light of day in the darkness of the Room of Requirement, where he found himself surrounded by old artifacts and silence.

“Draco, Severus has been telling me you seem distracted.” The soft, yet scared tone of Draco’s mother rang throughout the empty, rotting room in the Shrieking Shack. Broken windows allowed for the wind to invade the abandoned building violently and loudly, and to dance around the three figures standing in the dark. It caused a shiver to run up Draco’s spine, but he couldn’t tell if the reaction came from the cold or from Narcissa and Severus’s stares aimed at him.

Draco felt so small under their gaze.

“That’s true, I have been.” Draco admitted, looking forward. He focused on a spider trapping a moth in its web. “With school.” The moth fought, attempted to flap its wings but the web was too sticky. “I have to keep up my grades. Them dropping suddenly would be suspicious.” Draco’s voice didn’t waver, despite his heart beating at a much more rapid pace than normally.

“Lie.” Severus Snape spoke simply. The professor was tasked with taking care of the Slytherin boy, but he wasn’t about to listen to his childish lies while the man knew what he had been seeing in the past months around Hogwarts.

Draco didn’t move.

Narcissa sighed and got closer to her son. She placed her palms on Draco’s pale cheeks and she felt them being hollower than she remembered. Draco still didn’t look at her. The spider was covering the dying moth in his web, fully suffocating the creature.

“My boy, the dead don’t need lovers.” Narcissa’s voice was quiet, regretful even. Her heart ached for the boy who was so quickly deprived of a childhood.

“You cannot forget about the assignment because of a girl.” Snape spoke up, his voice monotonous.

“I haven’t forgotten.” Draco spat back and took a step away from his mother, whose hands dropped. He didn’t feel the lack of her palms on his cheeks, as they left no warmth Draco could feel. “And there’s no girl.”

“Do not lie to us, boy. I have seen you with the Ravenclaw girl, I am not blind.” Snape saw the glances between Draco and you in the Great Hall, he saw the way Draco fixed his gaze on you during DADA. He also caught you walking into the Room of Requirement not long after Draco the previous night. On top of that, Minerva had mentioned how Draco’s recent assignments closely mirrored yours. You had a certain style noticeable in your homework answers, and that style began to be seen in Draco’s own homework which lead everyone to speculate the two students may be closer than everyone thinks.

Before Draco could deny, Narcissa spoke “Under other circumstances, I’d be delighted to hear about a girl in your life.” Her tone was soft, yet it held an edge and sternness to it. “But you have a mission, Draco. Do I need to remind you of the consequences to befall our family if you don’t succeed?”

“No.” Draco spat. He already knew the consequences – loud and clear. They had been drilled into his mind, heart and soul the entire summer. If he couldn’t kill Dumbledore, Voldemort would kill Draco’s entire family instead.

“The girl is another weakness. Another person to add to the death list, Draco.” His mother pleaded. “You know he will kill her if he finds out.”

“I know.”

Draco could feel all the warmth in his body melt away and even his bones felt cold and heavy.

“You can still save her.” Snape spoke. “Focus on you mission, hurt her. Make her believe you don’t love her.”

Draco glanced at the spider one last time, and the moth laid still in the webs of the predator. The wind made the web sway, but only slightly. It was too sturdy to be blown away by any forces.

“Hurt her to save her.” Narcissa’s voice echoed through Draco’s mind all the way back to the castle. The Room of Requirement didn’t appear that night, and so the boy went to bed instead. He entered an empty Slytherin common room and even though the fire was burning, Draco couldn’t feel its warmth. Not even as he knelt in front of the flames, attempting to warm his freezing hands. His movements were mechanic. As he laid in bed that night, he couldn’t remember how exactly he got back into the dorm from the Shack.

However, he remembered events that took place years ago perfectly.

He especially remembered the night of the Yule Ball, two years prior. He can pinpoint the exact moment he spotted you in the crowd of well-dressed students. It was, in his mind, the first time he really, truly saw you. He remembered the small -but noticeable skip of his heart that happened as soon as his eyes landed on your figure. You were smiling, but sitting at the wrong table – which confused him for a moment. You were sat at the Gryffindor table, right next to the Weasley twins who were making you laugh. A Ravenclaw boy whose name Draco didn’t know was behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders thus signaling that he was your date that night through possessive body language. You didn’t acknowledge his presence much, though.

Pansy, Draco’s date, made comments about your dress each time you stood up to dance. The long dark blue satin dress gently touched the ground with each step you took, the slit in its side slightly exposed your leg with each movement. There was a smile on your face the whole night.

Draco thought you looked so beautiful.

He thought you looked beautiful even when your glance danced towards Ron Weasley until the end of the ball.

Draco also remembered the night Pansy dragged you into Umbridge’s office a year later. She held your arms behind your back forcefully while you struggled to get out of her grasp. Your wand was in her possession and you looked angry. A great juxtaposition to how you looked on the night of the Yule Ball. He remembered thinking how much sense it made for you to be tangled in Harry Potter’s mess because that’s what Potter did. He had everyone on his side, all odds in his favor while Draco was being dealt bad cards at every turn.

You fought and tried to get away from Pansy. Your hair was messy, and your oversized blue sweater was getting untucked from your jeans with each forceful move you made. A frown painted your soft features, your eyes seemed darker than usual. Draco caught a glimpse of the scars on your wrist which he immediately knew came from Umbridge’s detention sessions, and he felt a flicker of rage rise into his stomach. The feeling directly contradicted the satisfaction he had been feeling at the sight of Potter getting his plans spoiled right in front of him.

“Parkinson, lay it off.” Draco found himself spitting when he realized the pressure on your wrist was painful. He spoke before he realized what he was doing, and so he found the confused gazes of Ginny and Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and you – all fixed on him. Pansy obeyed Draco with discomfort.

You looked at him quizzingly, not really understanding why he was suddenly…helping you? He met your gaze just for a second before a heavy glare returned in his eyes and he turned away, focusing entirely on Harry and Umbridge.

It was minutes later when he watched your figure getting smaller as you ran away from Umbridge’s office, escaping with your friends. Draco and his friends were left behind and unable to follow as they each struggled with curses thrown at them in the escape. You were all long gone by the time the group of Slytherins came to, and Draco remembered that he found himself wishing he had people running into the line of fire for him like Harry did – he wished you would’ve glanced back at him in your escape and then weeks later when he was told about the events of that night, he found himself hoping his father didn’t hurt you in the Ministry attack.

Those thoughts and memories didn’t stay with him for long that summer, though. Draco couldn’t say that you crossed his mind after he received the Mark.

Until that night.

It was late and he was in the Room of Requirement, still fiddling with the cabinet. It was the fourth consecutive night spent in there after finding the damn thing, and he wasn’t anywhere close to fixing it. Frustrated, he punched and kicked the wood so hard that his knuckles sent sharp waves of pain through his arm. It was because of the noise he was making, the kicks and grunts that he didn’t hear the Room’s doors open and close.

You had previously been in the Gryffindor common room, attending one of their parties. There weren’t lots of Ravenclaws there – hell, it was only you, Stiles, Padma, Anthony and Michael. And it was all going well. You were sat on a bean bag chair with Stiles in-between your legs, surrounded by your Gryffindor friends: Ron, Harry, Hermione, Neville and Ginny, with Dean and Seamus on their way to you all with butterbeers in hand. The atmosphere was fun and light – a welcomed escape from the reality surrounding you, but you all decided to enjoy the moment and pretend the world outside the common room didn’t exist for the night. So you sat close to the fire and you didn’t know if the hot flames were warming you up or if it was the fact that Ron was focusing an unusual amount of attention on you.

You’ve had a crush on the Weasley boy since third year, and no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop your heart from beating faster each time he smiled at you.

You were having a great time.

“And if I become an Animagus to help Scott, then what?” Stiles spoke. Harry shook his head. You puffed. “What? We’d be the new generation of the Marauders; someone has to keep the legacy alive.” He continued, determined.

“Lupin would kill you, mate.” Ron laughed.

“You know animagi don’t pick their animal though, right?” You questioned. Stiles looked up at you and beamed.

“I know. But it’s like, vibe related so I think I’m safe. I’d absolutely be a dog, or a wolf.”

You glanced worryingly at Harry, but the boy simply burst out laughing and denied jokingly. Everyone else hearing the conversation laughed as well.

“Stiles, if it’s vibe related then you’d be a weasel.” You spoke, prompting laughs from everyone. Ron high fived you for the joke and you smiled wider than you thought possible.

The good mood didn’t last long, though. Only moments later Lavender Brown joined the group and comfortably sat herself in Ron’s lap. You watched him give her a quick kiss and wrap his arms around her. “What are we talking about?” She asked and it was as if your ears got covered. The sound faded, your smile dropped, your shoulders slumped. Ron would never like you back, you had to accept that. It was pathetic how you longed for the boy for so long.

So, you excused yourself and left the common room entirely to take a walk. You didn’t expect to end up outside the Room of Requirement, and you didn’t even feel like going inside. But the hall was dark and cold and you began hearing footsteps and the flickering light of Filch’s lantern slowly began illuminating the stone walls and with a haste movement, you went into the Room before Filch could walk around the corner and catch you.

You found yourself in a Room much different from the training grounds you had known while being part of the D.A. Tall piles of clutter seemed to reach the ceiling and despite the room being extremely vast, it felt tiny and crowded because of all the objects tossed and piled everywhere in sight. You walked on a path formed through columns made out of old boxes and books, all piled amongst stacked chairs, empty owl cages and rusty potions equipment. Loud bangs followed by grunts caused you to stop in your tracks and draw out your wand. The room in itself seemed unpredictable, and so you already had about six defensive spells ready to go in your mind and on the tip of your tongue.

You caught a glimpse of platinum blond hair before anything else. It looked messy – very different from the way Draco usually wore it: slick and perfect. Now, it gave you the feeling that he’d been vigorously running his fingers through it, causing it to become tousled. He was only in a white shirt – the robe, vest and tie laid disregarded on a near-by couch.

Lowering your wand, you gently knocked on a table to get his attention.

He turned around in a panic. His hand reached for his wand but stopped midair when he saw you. “What are you doing here?” Draco spat with no hesitation. His heart skipped a beat again, like it did on the night of the Yule Ball.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You responded, glancing at the cabinet in front of him. At the time, you didn’t think anything of it.

“None of your business.”

“I don’t care anyway.” You glared. “This room appeared to me like it did for you and since I think I need it, I’m not leaving.” With your arms crossed, you leaned against a random tossed out piece of furniture.

“Isn’t there a Gryffindor party you should be at?” Draco’s gaze remained cold and the scowl on his face didn’t falter.

“You know about that?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, I know everything that goes on around here.” He broke eye contact by focusing on folding up his sleeves. When his hand began working on his left forearm, he stopped abruptly, remembering. He went stiff at the realization, which you noticed. Before you could speak however, he looked back at you with a smirk, “Was Lavender Brown there so you ran away?” It was as if he didn’t look struck by lightning just two seconds before.

However, his words made you forget his strange behavior. “The hell? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, come on, (Y/L/N). Everyone knows you have the hots for Weasley. Least you can do is own up to it.” He teased with a mixture of annoyance and amusement present on his face.

“Piss off, Malfoy.” Walking up to the old couch Draco’s uniform laid on top of, you sat down and watched as the dust flew out of its cushion. Draco groaned. “I’m just gonna nap here until I’m sure Filch left and isn’t near the Ravenclaw tower.”

Draco mumbled some things you didn’t bother to understand, and then silence befell both of you. He didn’t really bother to fight you to leave even though, in retrospect, he should have had. Maybe if you didn’t stay with him that night, he wouldn’t be meeting you in the Room months later with tears burning his eyes. But, to be fair, he couldn’t have known that night. That night, he just rolled his eyes at you breaking the silence ten minutes later, when he thought you were asleep.

“What are you even doing there?”

“I told you, none of your business.” He spat.

“Is that the vanishing cabinet Peeves broke a few years ago?”

Draco turned around. It was his turn to be surprised by your knowledge. “How do you know about that?” He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over your figure as you sat cross-legged on the old couch he napped on countless times before. You wore casual clothes – which he always thought looked great on you, and your hair laid straight over your shoulders. The few candles he had lit around softly luminated your face with warm tones.

You smiled proudly at his question.

“Fred and George shoved Montague in it last year” you laughed “it was quite funny.”

Draco remembered the incident. He was, after all, the one who found Montague stuck in a bathroom after the encounter with the twins.

“You’re trying to fix it, aren’t you?” Draco watched you jump up from the couch and walk next to him to examine the cabinet. He suddenly felt on edge, exposed. The Ravenclaw in you was jumping to solve a problem, while the Slytherin in him was about to explode. “Have you tried a mending charm?”

“Of course, I tried a mending charm.” Draco answered with annoyance in his voice. You rolled your eyes. “It doesn’t work.”

“Well, then- “

“I don’t need nor want your help, (Y/L/N).” He glared down at you. “I can handle it myself.”

“Asshole.” You mumbled before taking a few steps back from Draco. He didn’t turn to you. Instead, he focused on his task even though his mind wasn’t on it anymore. He focused on your footsteps as you began to walk away without another word and before he could overthink, he spoke up softly. “But you can stay, if you want.”

You didn’t stop walking as you answered him. “I don’t.”

Draco then heard you utter “Lumos”, heard your footsteps getting quitter and quieter, then the heavy doors being pulled open. After they closed, he found himself surrounded by silence once again. Not dwelling on it, he pushed the thought of you away and resumed his work. Nothing was more important than his assignment.

Things slowly started to shift after that night.

The next day in Transfiguration as he was zoning out, a paper butterfly landed on his desk. He glanced around the room but saw nobody giving any sign of sending him the note. However, after he opened it and read its contents, his eyes immediately found you. On the paper was a list of incantations that would be useful in repairing things, and he knew you had sent it even though you looked focused on the textbook in front of you. It looked as if you were purposefully trying to ignore him, and Draco allowed the ghost of a smirk to form at the corners of his lips.

Two nights later, Draco walked into the Room of Requirement and you were already there. A few more candles than usual were lit as you sat on the (now clean looking) couch, reading a heavy, dense book. “Have they worked?” you asked without looking up from your book.

Draco sighed, loosening his tie. “No.”

And as time passed, you and Draco began spending more and more time together. Initially, you tried to help him fix the cabinet. It gave you a distraction from Ron and Lavender. But it was also obvious that fixing the old thing was important to him – he seemed desperate and for some reason, you felt like helping. And so, you found yourself sitting close to Draco on that old, tossed out couch with different heavy books resting in your lap every night, both searching for spells that could work. Each few day the space between you decreased until you reached a point where your knees touched and your shoulder pressed into his bicep. Sometimes you could even feel his minty breath on your face – just for a second. But the feeling began to linger even as you walked the stairs up to the Ravenclaw tower late at night.

You also found yourself thinking less and less about Ron.

Then, about a month after the Gryffindor party, the Katie Bell incident took place.

Harry began suspecting Draco of the attack and accused him of being a Death Eater. You didn’t go to the Room of Requirement for a few days after that because honestly, you were scared. You knew, deep in your heart that what Harry was saying made sense and because of that you started to believe that Draco’s cabinet wasn’t just some fun project. You lit on fire all the parchment you had written mending charms on, in a haste and with shaky hands.

You didn’t want to see him after that.

But you found yourself days later sneaking out of the tower late at night, quietly making your way to the seventh floor.

Draco got heavily scolded by Snape for the necklace attempt. The Professor found his action completely foolish and didn’t hesitate to let Draco know that. The boy arrived at the Room feeling beaten, defeated. On top of that, he was met by the empty couch and the broken cabinet and he snapped. In a fit of rage, he broke one of the cabinet’s doors and threw it at the couch. The noise he caused rang through the entire room, momentarily covering the silence. He couldn’t bear the sight of his failure any longer and the thought that you were now possibly scared of him after rumors of him being a Death Eater spread around the school, thanks to Potter, angered him even more.

“Training for the next Triwizard Tournament, Malfoy?”

Your voice made him turn around quickly, surprised look on his face.

A small smile danced at your lips, and you took out your wand. Pointing it at the broken door, you cast out “Repairo,” and the door lifted from the couch, gently levitating towards the cabinet and fixing itself. In the end, it looked as if nothing had happened. “At least this works, otherwise you would’ve had to pick up some muggle skills.” You teased.

Draco let out a small laugh, before his face fell again and he sat down on the dusty floor. His back rested against some other piece of forgotten furniture and he brought his knees up, hugging them to his chest. His head fell back, and he closed his eyes.

You quietly sat next to him with a huff.

“Why are you here?” Draco asked quietly.

After a moment of silence, you answered with honesty “I don’t know.” And you didn’t. You couldn’t understand why, despite the pit in your stomach that took shape as soon as Harry accused Draco of being a Death Eater, you were alone with him in a secret room, late at night.

Opening his eyes, Draco made a quick decision. He placed his left hand on your right knee, squeezing. Your eyes met – he looked calm; you were confused. “Do you trust me?” Draco’s voice was just a whisper. Alas, through the deafening silence of the Room, you heard him loud and clear.

“I don’t know.” You answered again. And, mirroring his impulsive move, you placed a hand over his. He felt cold at the touch and as you got used to the slightly stinging feeling, he found comfort in your warmth. “All I know is that I’m here, for some reason. I felt like seeing you.” You admitted, your voice tender and quiet.

Draco didn’t speak for a while. You thought you embarrassed yourself but didn’t dare to move.

“There are things about me that you really wouldn’t like if you knew.” The boy finally spoke. His eyes were glued to the cabinet that was a few feet from you both, but his mind was miles away. “I’m not a good man.” He admitted with no waver in his tone, no hesitation.

And maybe it was the daily, month-long meetings you’ve had with him. Or maybe it was the flicker of decency you saw in him when he got Pansy to release her painful grip on you the previous year. But your mind dug up small events and information buried deep in your memory that made you frown at his words. You remembered Dobby. Harry told you he was the Malfoy’s house elf who tried to keep him safe during second year, and it all seemed strange to you. You knew that house elves, if owned, could not act on their own volition no matter how strong their beliefs and inclinations were. In your mind it seemed unlikely that Dobby left the Malfoys without their knowledge and so, for the longest time you had a hunch it was Draco who sent Dobby to warn Harry. Especially since Lucius was the one who snuck Tom Riddle’s diary into Hogwarts. You were also quite sure it was Draco who helped Harry figure out the monster from the Chamber of Secrets was a Basilisk.

But overall, you knew Draco didn’t grow up in a good environment. He’d been heavily manipulated his entire life and it was in that moment, as you sat next to him on dirty floors, hand on top of his, that you decided whatever he was doing, he was doing either because of blackmail or manipulation.

“You can’t let the bad things from the past define you,” You whispered as your fingers slowly occupied the empty spaces between Draco’s own fingers. He was quick to grip your hand into his. “I think you are good. You’ve just been dealt shit cards.”

Draco didn’t show any emotion as he processed your words. But that night as he lay in his bed all he could think about were your words. Nobody had told him he was a good person before, and he’d never felt supported before in his life. And he felt a wave of emotions hit him all at once. He felt envy because Potter had had you all this time and because of your friendship with him, Draco didn’t get close to you sooner. He felt jealousy because he remembered you were in the Room in the first place because you were heartbroken over Ron – again, someone he didn’t like had all the things Draco felt he should’ve had instead. He felt comfort knowing you weren’t scared of him despite Potter filling your mind with (true) accusations. He felt hopeless because he was a Death Eater now and you were one of the good guys. He also felt entitled, selfish and determined because for the first time in a while, he found himself wanting something – someone, that he wanted for himself: you.

Over the next few months, you both unintentionally grew closer. Draco remembered every smile, every laugh shared between the two of you in the candlelight, hidden deep inside the Room of Requirement. Most days, he worked alone on the cabinet while you studied and pretended he wasn’t doing something potentially harmful. You both found yourselves finding comfort in the other’s mere presence.

You began to think less about Ron and more about Draco and it made you feel strangely guilty, especially when Ron would throw his arm around you like he used to in the Great Hall and you’d catch Draco’s eyes and excuse yourself to move back to the Ravenclaw table.

On certain nights you attempted to get Draco to do homework with you. But with each passing day, he became more and more anxious and afraid. And with each passing day, it hurt and worried you more and more. On a few occasions you did his Transfiguration homework for him just to keep him out of detention.

He owled you a Merry Christmas note during winter break but told you not to write him back. He knew you wished him happy holidays as well.

You gave him a Christmas present when you got back to Hogwarts – a ring, as you’d noticed he liked wearing them. His face lit up at the gesture and it was the first time he embraced you. The action was impulsive but it felt right. One of his arms wrapped around your lower back, the other cradled your head gently. His face buried in your neck and he held you so tight you didn’t dare move. He held you to make sure you were real and wouldn’t slip away from his grasp.

A little over a month later, Draco was feeling the pressure of his tasks heavier than ever. He felt sick each time he looked at the cabinet and you were noticing that. You were also noticing his complete disinterest in school and his reoccurring absences. He’d spend days in the Room, not even coming down to eat. You snuck him meals each time you could but sometimes you’d find them untouched on the floor.

“Alright, Draco. What’s going on?” You confronted him one night.

“Nothing.” He mumbled. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” you pleaded “Draco you’re not acting like yourself please, tell me what’s going on so I can help.” You never pleaded with a man before, never thought you would. Your ego felt too strong for this. And yet, there you were, standing behind a disheveled Draco Malfoy with an ache in your chest.

He ignored you.

You felt like throwing something at his head.

You watched as he opened the cabinet doors and took out a rotten apple. He held it in his hand for a second too long. It wasn’t unusual, you’ve watched him do this repeatedly over the past five months. You flinched when he threw the apple on the floor with vicious force. He then kicked the bottom of the cabined a bunch of times, yelling out in anger and frustration. His scream echoed through the Room. You pursed your lips.

“I can’t do this.” He finally spoke. “I can’t bloody do this and everyone’s going to die.” He started pacing around the small clearing amidst clutter. “My mum, my dad, me…you – we’re all going to die.” He kicked the plate of food you had brought him a few hours prior, spilling the contents over the floor.

You frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s gonna kill you and mum in front of me, make me watch,” He was frantic “probably gonna torture you first so I die remembering your screams. Then,” he pinched his nose, wiped his mouth “then he’ll kill me. I’ll be last and everyone’s gonna be taking the piss out of me, the fucking kid who couldn’t fix a fucking,” he kicked the cabinet again “magic fucking cabinet!” he kicked and kicked until you could feel the pain he felt in his leg yourself.

You walked up to him and attempted to pull him away from the large wooden broken object, but he pushed you away forcefully. You stumbled back in shock. “How dare – “ You couldn’t finish your sentence, however. He hastily turned to face you, pulling up the sleeve of his left arm aggressively, exposing the Dark Mark.

No words came out of your mouth after that.

You couldn’t seem to peel your eyes off of the mark, and Draco watched you with a pained heart. Part of him expected you to run, another to pull out your wand and attack. He didn’t know which one was coming, he didn’t know which one he preferred. However, he didn’t expect you to walk up to him with slow, steady steps.

His eyes locked with yours as you took his arm into your own. It was as if the Room emptied and the only things in it were the two of you. Holding his arm to your chest, you got as close to him as possible. As he looked down at you, his heavy breath fanned your face. “It’s okay, Draco.” You whispered. “I understand.”

And you did. You understood his choice, understood the position he was forced into. And your heart ached for him.

That’s the night Draco remembered best. The way your figure was illuminated by the soft glow of yellow candles, the soft fabric of your sweater rubbing on his skin. The kindness in your eyes spreading warmth through his veins, the way your lips moved when you spoke his name. Most times he thought about conjuring a Patronus, Draco believed the memory of that night was what he needed to focus on in order to succeed.

With his hand on the back of your head, he quickly lowered himself to reach your height and caught your lips in a kiss. He felt you smiling into it and he found himself mirroring you, until you pulled away to giggle into his shoulder. He couldn’t do anything besides kissing the top of your head.

Days later you were both laying on the couch you had transformed into a cozy spot. You were focused on his Mark, tracing your fingers along the lines of it, gently. Draco knew he was supposed to feel pride in having the Mark – that’s what his family had told him, but he felt something close to shame each time he looked at it.

You rested your hand on top of it, covering it. “I’m sorry. But we’ll figure it out.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

A week later he was forced into the meeting with his mom and Snape at the Shrieking Shack. The following night he walked towards the Room of Requirement late, with heavy steps. It felt as if each movement he made on the way happened in slow-motion.

You were reading comfortably when he finally reached you. A smile formed on your lips upon seeing him, but it faded when you took in his appearance, his sour face, hardened figure, stone gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Draco didn’t speak, only pointed his wand towards you. You froze. “Draco?” His hand shook, his face wavered. You were confused.

“I have to do this, (Y/N). He’ll kill you otherwise.” Draco’s voice cracked.

“No, he won’t. You’re a skilled Occlumentist, right? He can’t get into your mind.” You immediately caught on.

He shook his head. “He’ll know, he’ll know. Snape knows, mum knows,” he sounded so scared that you attempted to get up to comfort him, but he threated so you sat back down “he’ll know.”

Tears formed and blurred your vision as your heart picked up speed.

“You know, I didn’t wanna think about you, I wanted to stay focused. I came here to do a task, that’s it. I came to be great, to do great things for the Dark Lord.” Draco began, “But then I saw you. I’ve wanted you since fourth year and then here you were, being good to me and…you woke up a weakness inside me. And I got selfish, I put my mission aside to get something for myself.”

Tears now ran down your face, and Draco mirrored you. You shook your head, silently pleading for him to reconsider.

“But I have a mission, (Y/N) and it’s so important. I can’t be distracted. And I can’t have you being associated with me – it’ll get you killed and I can’t – I can’t have it.”

The candles flickered and for a split second your mind went to a Divination class, where Trelawney explained candle magic. Their dancing light showed instability, chaotic energy while its tall flame indicated success brought about with complications. The air felt cold as you stared at Draco who hadn’t fully stepped into the candlelight. An abyss of darkness stood tall behind him, the sights of it deepening the pit in your stomach. Despite his shaky hands, dark circles underneath his saddened eyes and hollow cheeks, Draco looked put-together. His hair wasn’t messy like it was the first night you found him in the Room. It was back to its slick, flawless style. He wore his all-black suit, and his tie wasn’t loosened.

“I also can’t have you walk out of here knowing everything about me.” His voice hardened and for the first time while being with him, you felt fear.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Your voice was small. You sat up, your eyes beginning to look for a way out.

“I can’t risk it, you’re friends with Potter. You’re one of the good guys.”

“I won’t put you in danger, Draco.”

He grimaced at your words as if they’ve hit him with the force of a Cruciatus Curse. He tried not to let any more tears fall. You took his reaction as an opportunity to get closer to him. Maybe if you could take away his wand, touch him. Maybe then you could change his mind.

“I won’t endanger you either,” He whispered. “That’s why I have to do this.” At that, he lowered his wand and took two long strides towards you. Another one of his unpredictable actions that left you frozen in your spot. In a swift motion, he cupped your face between his calloused palms. “You know this is the right choice.”

“No,” you whispered and shook your head “no, it’s not. You can teach me Occlumency, I can help you,” your fearful eyes bore into his saddened ones, his heart ached at your words, at the fear he was capable of instilling in you. “We’re a good team, remember? I can help.” You kept pleading as your own hands rested on top of his. You felt the ring you’d given him still on his finger.

He simply shook his head with a small, almost unnoticeable smile on his face. “I’ve already corrupted you enough.” Draco admitted and you were taken aback; rendered speechless. “You’ve been covering for me with your friends, lying to Professors, basically doing my homework while I’m working on bringing the school down.”

Your heart dropped; hands started shaking. Draco felt it. He felt the weight of his words starting to crush you. Down in your mind you knew he was doing something bad with the cabinet, but you didn’t think it was so drastic.

Draco continued. Hurt her to save her, his mom’s words rang through his mind. “I’m using the Vanishing Cabinet to bring Death Eaters into Hogwarts,” his words made you remember the Death Eaters attack at the Quidditch World Cup, where you were almost trampled. You remembered the attack on London that sent one of your family members to the Hospital. You remembered how ruthless the Death Eaters were at the Ministry, when they were throwing deadly curses at a bunch of teenagers.

And there it was.

The look of betrayal, hurt and fear on your face that Draco never wanted to see. He tried to remember the night you saw his Mark, the night you accepted and comforted him. That’s what he wanted to remember, not this. “After I get them here, I’m going to kill Dumbledore.” He continued.

Chills erupted on your body and you recoiled from his touch.

“I knew you were planning something bad, but this, Draco?” You couldn’t speak louder than a whisper as you took small steps away from him. He knew this was coming; the disgust, the unacceptance. Was your speech about understanding him all bullshit? “You don’t have to- “

“Yes, I do. It’s my mission.”

“No, listen to me. You’re not this person, you’re not a Death Eater. I know you, Draco. You’re still a good person put in a terrible situation but it’s not all lost, we can-“ Despite your fear, you still found yourself comforting him, pleading with him. Your mind lead an inner battle between understanding the boy’s motives and wanting to let Harry know of everything that was happening.

You couldn’t let Dumbledore die, couldn’t let Death Eaters attack Hogwarts.

“I cursed Katie Bell. Almost killed her.” Draco cut you off.

“I know.” You deadpanned. He parted his lips and frowned in confusion. “I saw the necklace in your bag a week before it all happened. Then I saw it on McGonagall’s desk. It wasn’t hard to piece together the puzzle.” You explained.

Despite the warmth spreading through his heart at the thought of you not abandoning him even after knowing that all those months ago, at the thought that he’d finally found someone to be on his side for once in his life, someone who understood and maybe even actually loved him – despite it all, Draco’s eyes had never showed less emotion.

You wanted to cry but didn’t. Your ego won.

“You know I have to do this, (Y/N).” His voice didn’t waver anymore. The more reasons you gave him to love you, the more his decision solidified in his mind. “And you know I’m doing the right thing,” he wanted to hold you so bad, but he didn’t move; instead, you both stood feet away from each other. “Knowing all this puts you in danger. Coming here every night puts you in danger hell, even looking at me in the Great Hall puts you in danger. I can’t see you brought into the manor tied up, imprisoned and killed as a punishment for me. And you know I’m right. I’m not just some irrelevant follower, I’ve sat at a damn table with The Dark Lord countless times this summer. He’s been in my home; he knows me personally.”

You couldn’t look at him the more he spoke. So, your gaze was stuck on a candle, but your eyes remained unfocused.

“You’re smart.” Draco kept speaking, his tone now loud and confident. “This is the part where you tell me that even though you wanna change my mind, you know I’m doing the right thing,” he even joked. You wanted to cry but couldn’t speak. He was right. “Tell me you’re proud of me because I’m putting someone else’s wellbeing above my own for once” his voice became muffled, as if he spoke from underwater. It was silent for a moment as Draco watched you process his words, “You’ll be on the right side of history after this. You’ll go back to Weasley who’s a better choice for you than I could ever be – even though it kills me to say that.”

All you could do was shake your head in disbelief.

By the time you looked back up at him, he had a few tears running down his face and his wand pointed at you. And so you cried.

“We were a good team, weren’t we?” Draco spoke with one last saddened smile.

“Draco, please. I love –“ you began, but Draco couldn’t bear hear it.

You watched Draco wipe his tears with a swift motion, before a white light formed at the tip of his wand. His voice came out strong, unwavering, and determined. His hand stopped shaking.

“Obliviate,” Draco uttered before you could react.

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagines #harry potter #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #ron weasley #ron weasley imagine #hhtsh

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giggly-squiggily · 3 years ago

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Sentence starter! “You really think you can get away?” With tanjiro and zenitsu from demon slayer!

Oohoho! I like this one alot! I've gotcha covered, anon!

“You really think you can get away?” Zenitsu’s voice was ice cold, eyes flat with danger as he slowly closed in on the terrified, giggling Tanjiro. “Z-Zenitsu! Wait! We can talk abou this-”

“There’s nothing to talk about! You’ve shown your hand, Tanjiro.” Zenitsu cut him off, making a show of cracking his knuckles. “Now you must die.”

“Zehehehehen! No! Stahahahy away!” Tanjiro backed up, sliding down the wall when he felt the cold wood against his back. “Dohhoohhon’t!” “You’re officially giggly for a dead man.” Zenitsu kneeled, trapping the other completely.

“Doohoohohohn’t tihihihihickle mehehehehe!” Tanjiro pleaded, his giggles increasing when Zenitsu raised his hands, fingers wiggling. “But I’m not….yet.” Zenitsu smirked, hands darting out, latching onto his ribs and squeezing gently. “Now I am! Take this and this!”

Tanjiro arched with a squeal, squirming about as he tried to fight off Zenitsu’s tickly fingers. “Ahahhahahhahahahahaha! Gahahhahahahaahhaha! Zehehehehehehhehehen!”

“This is what you get for not giving Nezuko my present!” The blonde roared playfully, his hands moving like lightning across Tanjiro’s skin. “I worked hard on those chocolates, and you just gave them to Inosuke!”

“Ihihihihihiihihihihihi dihihihihiihihiihdn’t gihihiihiihihihve theheheheheheheem awahhahahahahahhay!” Tanjiro tried to plead his case through his laughter. “Nehehehehehehhezukokookookoko cahhahahahhahn’t ehehehhahahhahahhat thehehehehehehem!”

“Oh...right.” Zenitsu blinked, as if just remembering that detail. “Details! You’re still gonna die!” He drilled one hand into Tanjiro’s ribs, the other darting down and squeezing his thigh and knee. “One tickle for every chocolate I made! Be ready- I made at least a dozen!”

“Wahhahahhahahhahht’s a dooohohohoAHHAHAHHAHZAN?”

“More than you’ll be able to handle!” The blonde told him, grinning when Tanjiro howled. “Ooohoho! Is this a bad spot?” He teased, abandoning Tanjiro’s ribs and going straight for his legs.

The other boy was a mess of mirth, cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of red and eyes misty with tears. He tried to pull the blonde’s hands away from his knees, but his efforts were weak, leaving him just holding onto his hands instead. “ZEHEHEHEHHHEN! PLEHAHAHAHAHHASE!”

“Hm, okay. I suppose you’ve been tortured enough.” Zenitsu pulled his hands away, folding them back in his lap as Tanjiro recovered. “Heh, you look silly.” He told him, earning a weak glare.

“Iihhihihihll show you...funny!” Tanjiro shifted forward, knocking him and Zenitsu into the futon beneath them. “Ah! Tan...jiro?” Zenitsu tensed, preparing for a return attack, only to be left confused when the other snored. “A little tickling and you fall asleep. You’re such a dork.” Zenitsu rolled his eyes, though he was smiling as he did.

Accepting his predicament, he settled in for his own nap, falling asleep not too long after.

Send me a sentence starter!

#sentence starters #demon slayer #zenitsu agatsuma #tanjiro kamado #tickle

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sweettodo · 4 years ago

Text

Animals ⟿ Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

Includes : cockwarming, smut, swearing, riding, slight praise.

Word count : 1,8k

An, ik this is short. But I’m down bad yall. I am so dick deprevied it is just sad. ANYWAYS. Also I couldn’t think of a good title bc this is just smut w no plot??

Levi was not the one for pda, quite the opposite- no surprise there; he hated kissy couples who laid all over each other like idiots. It was really disappointing when you were more or less ignored besides meal time throughout the day, where in the dining hall we would be able to have some conversation.

You sat across from him at dinner, the smoldering heat from the summer evening which kept you all from wearing your normal uniforms, you wore a white tank top with some random shorts while Levi looked incredibly sculpted, his pecs and abs filling out a tight-ish short sleeve shirt, sweat slightly sticking to his arms, restricting, that- that tight...

“Oi, staring much?” My gaze snaps back to his dark eyes, deadpan face and all. You smirk and roll your eyes, his eyes fell deep into yours; he bit his tongue in anticipation of what you were planning next.

“Sorry, Captain.” You drag, with that slight whiney undertone you purposely allowed to slip from your lips. he scowled at you, obviously irritated at your childish behavior, you playfully kick him under the table, Hange eyes you from the corner of her eyes, smile planted on her face. Everyone knew you rarely called Levi ‘Captain’ and the only time you did was- quite frankly- in the bedroom.

She turns to face Levi, her smile only growing when she sees how irritated he looked, “why the pout ‘Captain?’” She laughs teasingly, patting his shoulder. It was all fun and games until you don’t expect the sharp kick into your calf, you jerk backwards and wince, followed by a hiss and you stand, your legs hopping over the bench and as you pass Levi, you feel his eyes burn holes into your backside. Steering yourself across the halls and finally down to Levi’s office with the adjoining bedroom, sneaking into the office; making sure no one saw, you close the door behind you in excitement; your stomach giddy knowing you did a sufficient job planting a little bug in Levi’s ear; enough to get the ball rolling.

One thing no one knew, a surprising fact that left you baffled the first time you had heard it; Levi was a switch. At least when he felt like it. It came in handy when he didn’t want to do any work.

He liked to watch you get yourself off and use him like a toy.

Slowly walking around his perfectly neat desk, the infamous Levi walks in, slamming the door behind him. While he stood there, you continue strolling around the wooden desk, fingers lightly trailing across the smooth finish of his desk, “do you think you’re subtle? Practically moaning my title in front of our peers?” He grits, walking over to his bedroom door, opening it and standing there waiting for me, “get on the bed. Now. This is what you wanted right? To piss me off enough?” I slyly walk by him, ignoring his tantrum, my fingers once again trailing across his immediate tensed stomach. He shuts the door behind him and watches you sit on the bed, legs hanging off the side.

It didn’t take long for the air to quickly become thick in the moderalty large room. Your neglected pussy throbbing at the idea that it was about to be packed to the fucking brim.

He slips off his shirt whilst standing in between your legs, you gulp and look up at him. Suddenly grabbing your jaw, a tight grip which you quickly realized he wasn’t going to make this any easier for yourself, “I’m gonna get on this bed, and you’re gonna ride me.” You blink innocently, incapable of nodding from his freakish Ackerman strength. He shoves you off his hand, your back hitting the bed, your hand raising to your jaw and rubbing the tenderness.

Unbuttoning his pants, kicking them off his thighs and propping himself against the rustic wood headboard, you slip off your top, followed by your shorts, you approach him to straddle him, starting to throw a leg over his waist.

But before you can do that...

Grabbing ahold of your hips, he begins manhandling you, turning you around to reverse him, “that’s unfair.” You pout, his hands dragging up and down your thighs, applying a loud slap against your right ass cheek, your cunt clenching as he slaps you again with his hard calloused hand.

“What’s unfair? What’s there to look at if you’re facing me?” He chuckles, you crane your head back to look at him, a smug look on his stupid face.

You bring yourself up and deciding to give yourself a little pleasure. You find yourself bringing your clothed heat against his hard cock, grinding.

This. This, for certain Levi could not resist, he allows you to give a little friction, knowing he wouldn’t allow it to go on for too long regardless, “I wanted to look at your face.” You hum, whining your hips slightly against him, his mouth falling dry.

“Tch, show me what you can do, yeah?” His hands massaging the small of your back, gripping and kneeding tightly as you sit up only a little, leaning down so you can snake your hand between your legs and releasing his dick from his boxers with one hand, he uses his two fingers to move your underwear to the side, adjusting so you can ride him.

Your hands grip his thighs, the curve to your back which he looked at, your shoulder blades rolling, fitting him into your cunt, your head moving almost erratically as he stuffs you, “so fucking wet, how long have you been like this princess? I fucking love it.” He praises, his hands still helping you up and down still at a slow pace.

“All day Levi.” You admit, he lets out a little ‘hm’ in response, he was just so fixated on the way your hips and thighs moved while on top of his slightly sweaty body; the sound of skin sticking together was echoing throughout the bedroom.

His hand lingering up your spine, reaching for your hair, his fingers entangling into your roots, grabbing hard and yanking your light headed - head back, he sits up and brings his head right to the crook of your shoulder, you stop thrusting yourself up and down momentarily, “I love it when you sit pretty on my cock like this, mh’ could be like this all fucking night.”

You can only wimped in response, walls uncontrollably flexing and twitching around his cock which sat nested in you for what felt like forever, with his hand still in your hair, he used his free one to weave around to your front, slipping into your underwear, you gasped and cried out, panting like a fucking dog as he plants firm and pressurized circular motions around your clit.

You couldn’t move; body being help down on his dick, you couldn’t even squirm underneath him, “Such a feign for my cock aren’t you? Tell me what you want.” You could’ve cum right then and there.

“Bend me over.” You begged, he picks up the pace of his three fingers which spun crazily around your bud, his fingers becoming soaked. He completely ignored you, “fuck! Levi!” You wail, your pussy twitching, eyes rolling back, still restrained over his hard on. Thighs twitching as you feel the slick of your cum bathing Levi’s already drenched cock. His fingers had slowed tremendously, working you through your first orgasm, he releases his fist from your hair and your weak neck drops down and you breathe, you wanted him to fuck you now.

“You better not move. I’ll fuck you when I’m ready.” He growls, feeling you attempt to lift your hips back up for any type of thrust; which he stopped.

His hand leaves your slit, you groan in frustration, “Captain, please bend me over.” You whine and plead once again.

This time it works, he quickly pulls out and pushes you onto your elbows, he gets on his knees, lightly slapping your shoulder, motioning you to turn your face towards the head frame as he stood perched behind you; your head in the pillows as he kicks open your legs with his knee, pushing down against your hips so he could look at your throbbing pink pussy, screaming to be fucked.

“I shouldn’t even be touching you right now.” He grits, angling himself against your cunt, sliding back in, it truly stung, the time he spent sitting inside you only heightened those nerves, they exploded when they came into contact. “Annoying me like that? You think you deserve this?” He insults, contradicting his words with his slow thrusts, crying into the pillow, his tight grip which held your legs in place, he’s pulling your hips towards him; fucking you onto his dick.

“I-m sorry Levi.” You moan, he smacks your ass, the stinging sensation onto going straight to the most sensitive area. You were so close to releasing again; luckily for you Levi wasn’t they type to stop you. Loud moans being somewhat silenced by the pillows yet didn’t block all the sound. Levi, who is drilling your hips onto his, he stops and switches roles, him doing the pounding.

Levi’s hand grabs ahold of the headboard, watching you fall apart under him, arm and back flexing beautifully as your cum juiced down his cock. You were so fucking wet, wetting his thighs and your own from the skin to skin contact.

With one hand placed roughly on your back, the other on the headboard, he wastes no time gaining momentum and fucking you absolutely silly; fucking you till’ you were seeing stars when you closed your eyes.

Your weak hand reaches for his moving body and you keep it on top of your tail bone so you could touch his stomach as he thrusted back and forth into you, the tips of your fingers touching him was enough for you to orgasm.

Not to mention the headboard banging back into the wall as well- which neither of you paid any mind to-while he was assaulting the absolute fuck out of your cunt. Your tears and drool which have destroyed the pillow are no match for the amount of cum and sweat that both you and Levi had soaked the sheets with. You two fucked each other like animals, you two could be going all day and night if you didn’t need the sleep for the coming day.

Nor did he care about pulling out, not even warning you, or even himself for that matter- he’s catching himself unloading a thick load deep into your squeezing pussy. His grunts filling the room; followed by a repeated ramble of your name. You had lost count to how many times you had cum, which came to no shocker when it was Levi.

He stays inside you, his sputtering thrusts, he panted as he still kept you full and warm with his softening cock, not wanting to feel cold, stubborn about the fact he needed to stop fucking you at some point. People were bound to have heard the banging headboard and wailing, which you and Levi would be hearing about with the neighboring headroom and office... Hange’s room and office.

He finally slides out of you, entertained at the sight of his cock covered in slick. You lift your head up and throw yourself onto your back, whilst Levi is doing the same. He looked a mess, glistening with sweat, hair either sticking to his forehead or little pieces even clumped together; with his cheeks red, mouth slightly open with heavy breaths from his chest- he was a hot mess, but you didn’t even want to know what you looked like.

“Let me pee and we go again Captain Levi?” You tease, body perking up, he looks up at you and smirked, nodding and as you roll out of bed, he slaps you hard against your ass, you jump and scurry to the bathroom.

“We don’t have anything to do tomorrow anyways.” Levi mumbles as he stands up to follow you to the bathroom.

#levi x reader #levi smut #levi aot #levi ackerman #smut #lemon #attack on titan #attack on titan smut

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happys-crazy-queen22 · 4 years ago

Text

No Other

Gif credit @knockknockchicagopd

Requested by anon. I hope you like it Thanks for the request.

Taglist @nocturnalherb16 @jesseswartzwelder

Warning: slight breeding kink. Daddy kink. Spanking. Unprotected sex. Consensual non consensual sex.

"Oh Adam, my little love bug. What do you have for us today"? You cheerfully sang walking up the stairs with two coffees in your hands.

"Love bug? Really"? Adam tilted his head at you with a chuckle.

"Well we have to have pet names since we are going undercover as a married couple. I'm just trying some out, love muffin". You giggled sitting the coffee on the desk.

"Oh God. I hate you right now, snickerdoodle". Adam played along with the pet names. Making both of you laugh. But someone wasn't finding this humourous as you two did.

Hank watched from his office at you two. Playing and joking around. He was getting alittle jealous. Since you two were dating and no one knew. He couldnt say anything out in the open. But he sure could say it in private.

"Y/L/N, get your ass in here now". Hank demanded, slamming his door. You jumped, you never saw Hank like this.

"Shit, am I in trouble"? You asked Adam, getting up from your seat. He was just as concerned as you were.

"You havent done anything wrong. So you should be fine. You want me to go with you"?

"No. No. I'm fine". You gulped going into Hanks office, slowly and quietly closing the door.

Hank stood beside his desk his arms crossed over his chest. "Get over here now". His husky voice made you weak in the knees but you knew this wasn't the time to get turned on.

"Sir"? You whispered out.

"Now. Don't make me ask you again". He ordered, pointing his index finger at the spot in front of him.

You moved slowly to him. Apparently you weren't going fast enough for his liking. Hank swifty and sternly but gently grabbed your throat, pulling you to him. You could smell the coffee on his breath and the aftershave he used this morning.

"Do you like being a nasty little slut in front of me"?

"Hank"? You moaned which wasn't supposed to be a moan but that's what it came out to be as it slipped your lips.

Hanks grip slightly tightened around your throat. "I asked you a question. Now you dont want to make me angry. You know what happens when you do that. Now don't you"? Hank smirked.

At that moment you were soaking wet. You knew exactly what he was referring too. He was so dominant when you would talk with guys. He especially hated it when you would pair up with Adam or Jay on assignments. It got him jealous and he took it out on you.

"Yes, daddy". You licked your lips, starring into Hanks eyes. His heart racing. Hank attacked your lips with his, bringing you to be puddy in his hands.

Hanks tongue danced for dominance. He pulled you closer to him, slowly letting go of your throat. His fingers traced down your chest. Circling your hardened nipples over your clothes. Goosebumps spread across your body.

Hank pulled away, biting your bottom lip along the way.

"I think you need to be reminded that you are mine and only mine". Hank growled, pushing you on the desk, bending you over. Your round ass in his view. Your tight skirt made your ass perfect.

Wack. Wack. Hank slapped your left ass cheek with his palm. Rubbing the stinging away.

"Daddy". You whimpered.

"No use for that now, baby girl. Daddy's going to make sure you know that you're just mine". You heard Hank unbuckled his belt and then his zipper. You sucked on your bottom lip waiting for what's next to come.

Taking your hand you searched along Hanks desk for his drawer for a condom. Lucky your memory remembered where it was.

"Here, put this on". You turned back handing Hank the condom.

"Not today, sweetheart. Daddys going make sure you're daddy's forever". He slapped your ass, and hiked up your skirt around your hips.

"Hank, no. I'm not on birth control, you mad man". You giggled as you wiggled around. Hank chuckled, licked his hand and rubbed his cock. He pulled your panties to the side and slid through your slit. Nudging your clit with the tip of his cock.

This made your eyes roll and your hips buck. Guiding his cock to your entrance. Easily slipping in.

"Mmmmm". You moaned as he filled you up, stretching your walls.

"You're so tight for, daddy. Such a good girl you are". Hank began thrusting, his hips smashed into your ass.

"That's it, Daddy. Harder". You cried out when Hank pounded your g-spot. You felt yourself near your first orgasm. Hank growled as he felt you start to clench around him.

"Come on daddy's cock, baby girl. Fuck yourself on it". Hank stood still and let you do all the work for your first orgasm. You pushed back on his, hard. Taking him all the way down and back off again. Your hands held onto the edge of the desk, nails digging into the wood.

"Fuck". You scream, your legs trembled below you. Letting out a shaky breath, Hank took over and went full force. Not giving you a breather.

"Damn that was the sexiest thing I've seen you do today. Only my cock can make you do that. Mine". Hank grabbed your shoulders and thrusted deep up into you. Your eyes rolled again, jaw dropped as he drilled into you with such animal instinct.

"Shit". Hank cursed under his breath as he thrusted long deep strides. He was close to his breaking point.

"You ready for me to make you a mommy". It wasn't a question more like Hank was doing it and you weren't going to protest. Your eyes grew wide and you put your hand on his chest.

"Don't do it". You laughed. Thinking he wasn't serious.

"I'm cumming". He grunted, bucking his hips deep inside you spilling his seed.

"Hank"? You gasped pushing him out of you. You bolted for the tissues and started wiping his cum out of you.

"I thought you were going to pull out"? You asked with a huff.

"I wasn't playing. You're mine and I'm going to make sure of that". He said pulling his pants up.

"By getting me pregnant? Are you seriously that jealous of Adam"? You threw away your tissues and pulled down your skirt. Fixing your lips and clothes.

"I'm not jealous". He said sternly, taking a seat in his chair catching his breath.

"Really now? You just risked a pregnancy over that jealousy". You came up to him and sat down in his lap. Hank wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your neck.

"I'm not jealous".

"Whatever you say there, Mr. Voight". You kissed his head and got up from his lap. Heading to the door. "Adam's not my type. I prefer daddy". You smirked.

Hank chuckled. "So you're on birth control, right"?

"No, I wasn't joking about that. So we'll see in a couple weeks". You sent him a wink and exited the office. Hoping Adam didnt hear it but if he did then cats out of the bag.

Hank sat at his desk with a smile on his face. Maybe a baby was a good thing. You wouldnt have time to play couple with Adam.

#hank voight x reader #hank voight chicago pd #hank voight imagines #hank voight fanfiction #hank voight #hank voight smut #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd fic #chicago pd drabble #chicago pd smut #Chicago pd hank Voight #happys-crazy-queen22

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1994sunflower · 4 years ago

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Hi lovely 💕 I absolutely love your heaven to you series I was wondering if you could write something where you and Mikey and going at it and idk maybe ash or cal walk in on you and Mickey doesn’t stop so there just standing there watching him raw you idk maybe you can make it better than I said lol xx

merry christmas eve everyone! i wanted to post this early today so you would have plenty of time to read it without it interfering with your holiday plans. i hope you all love this as much as i loved making it & consider this my present from me to you.

in which ashton walks in on you

In hindsight, maybe sending Michael those dirty pictures wasn’t the best idea. Especially riling him up when he was in class when you knew he already didn’t pay attention. But, no matter how happy you were that he did what you asked and went anyway, you never really considered just how frustrating it was to be alone when all your classes had already finished.

Especially how frustrating it was when you were alone and horny. You couldn’t even waste the time by studying because your mind would always stray to him, his intimidating size, his cold eyes, his mocking smirk, his cock, the way he would pound you so roughly and perfectly that had you seeing stars and hugging onto him just right. You needed that right then. You wanted to be under him, letting him do whatever he wanted. You wanted him to satisfy you.

God, what had he done to you?

You weren’t exactly sure what got you so tense but all you knew was that you were aching for him. Really though, you blamed how long it had been. School had been so hectic and both of you had so been busy that you haven’t had sex in weeks. Which was honestly a feat for both of you, considering how often you went at it. It wasn’t for the lack of Michael trying either but you were always quick to shut him down and focus on studying, making him do the same. Now though, you were the one that was insatiable.

Even without him there, as you posed in those unquestionably suggestive poses (one on your knees, the other on all fours - ass sticking out behind you, the last with your legs spread), you could practically feel your panties sticking to your wetness.

You needed him.

And after sending them, you had giggled in his empty home. You’d been there since that morning before he left for class and you were excited just how much easier it would be for him to get straight to you after class. However, that excitement turned to eagerness when his reply came through. Always a man of few words, his message still rang loud and clear if the butterflies in your stomach were anything to go by.

mikey

i’m gonna fucking stuff you full when i get home

It was exactly what you wanted. You whimpered to yourself as you read and re-read his filthy words. You ground your pulsing clothed pussy against his bed, hating that you barely felt anything at all if the feeling didn’t come from him. You couldn’t even get yourself off without feeling your need for him grow even larger.

You were in the kitchen when you heard the key rattle of the doorknob. It was mischief that kept you in your place instead of going to meet him like you wanted to, like you’d been anticipating all hour.

So when the cup of water in your hands was suddenly snatched away roughly, you couldn’t help the naughty smile at the expected reaction you brought out in him, even if you were turned away from him and couldn’t see his exact expression. But still, you whined as if in objection and lifted yourself on your tip-toes, reaching up to get your drink back.

And you were finally face to face with Michael. A very frustrated Michael if his blown out pupils and tense jaw was anything to go by. But it wasn’t so surprising to you that his expression only served to have you aching more for him.

He held your cup above both of you, his height allowing it to be out of your grasp even on your tip toes, even when you tried to jump a bit for it back. And if he hadn’t known better, maybe Michael would have mistaken your whimper for one of disappointment. But he knew better. He knew your all of your filthy, horny sounds especially when you were starkly reminded just how small you were compared to him, just how much power he held over you because of that.

So he didn’t hesitate to wrap his rough hands around your neck, effectively stopping all of your movements. And his frustration seemed to multiple tenfold at your widening eyes. Like a shocked little girl.

“When did you turn into such a whore?” There was that cold, mocking smirk you begging to see.

Neither of you missed the way you rubbed your thighs together at his words. “I’m sorry daddy. Just want your cock.” You never could keep up the facade of being a brat for long. Not when you knew being a good submissive girl would have him giving you what you wanted quicker.

His eyes trialed down to your lips sensually before he leaned down and gave you a bruising kiss. One that had you quickly forgetting about your cup of water and instead had you all but leaning completely into him, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours and his wandering tongue. Leaning as high as you could on your tiptoes to meet his lips, your hands were traveling his chest and torso, trying to feel as much of his as you could. You felt him pick you up easily.

It’d been too long and he had been needy as well, but was holding it in to give you time to do your work but it seemed you had finally caved and were just as tense as he was with the need to get off. He had made sure a long time ago that you wouldn’t ever be able to get off without him, he was the only one your body would respond to as he had trained it to do, the only one that could give you release.

Thrill was the only thing that filled you when you felt your back hit wood, maybe that’s why you didn’t care that it was the kitchen table you were over. As you stared at Michael hovering above you, you couldn’t get yourself to chastise him as you normally would have; you were normally so respectful of shared living spaces, especially ones everyone would eat on later on. But as Michael’s expert hands undid your bra to leave you bare before him, all you could be was excited for what was to come and thankful that Michael was just as weak as you to give you what you wanted without delay.

“Never gonna listen to you and go to class again.” He muttered as his roughly spread your legs. You weren’t sure if he was mad at your earlier stunt or just too turned on to be gentler, but you didn’t mind. “I could have fucking opened those pictures in front of others, or is that what you wanted? Wanted those motherfuckers to see something that’s mine? See what a useless slut you are without me? You would’ve been the cause of their fucking funeral.” Definitely still mad.

He pulled you hair roughly, exposing your throat as you leaned back and stared into his eyes. But nothing could hide the horniness swirling in his eyes, or the poke of his hard cock against his jeans on your inner thigh. You tried to wiggle your hips to ground against his cock but were met with only air, causing a wanting whimper to leave your lips. Michael spread your legs even further, dealing with his own clothes in the process. He could pretend all he liked but his quickness to get inside you spoke for itself.

“Do you know how hard I was in the middle of class? After all the times you told me to go to class, you can’t even let me focus on learning. What a bad influence you turned out to be, little one.” His voice was taunting but you could only focus on getting him inside you faster. All the feelings of desire you had when alone in his room, that drove you to send those pictures in the first place, had come back tenfold.

Your breath hitched and you clenched around nothing, his previous swiftness had turned into a torturous stalling and you were sure he was doing it on purpose. But as if the dirty visuals you had sent directly to his phone were what was driving him, he finally took a hold of your hips and entered you. You were so wet you didn’t even need any foreplay. You were shaking with excitement. This was so much better than what you had tried home alone without him.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asked, his hand moving to your neck deliciously. His words were spit out sarcastically as your eyes rolled at the fast thrusts that had your body moving from the momentum. Your tits were moving with the rhythm of his thrusts and it was easy to see his eyes drawn to them. The table under you creaked with Michael’s strength.

But you couldn’t even answer him, your mind was jumbled in the bliss of finally getting what you wanted. His tight grip around your neck and rough thrusts was just a bonus. But the feeling of him against your tight walls, the sound of skin on skin sounding throughout the house had you in a haze. Only moans filtered out of your lips.

Michael’s hips moved skillfully as he stood between your completely spread legs, leaving you totally exposed for him. You were turned slightly to the side as he drilled into you, his hair falling in front of his eyes as he watched you carefully with hard eyes. Small grunts left him. He sucked in a breath. “That’s good, little one. Shit your cunt’s dripping, I’m going to wreck you.”

Maybe he was just as equally in a haze as you were. The need you had planted in him had driven him wilder than he let you believe. Maybe that’s why, in that vulnerable position he had you in, when you opened your eyes slightly you were the first to notice Ashton at the end of the hallway that led from the front door. His eyes were wide, keys still in hand and his mouth was drawn open.

You couldn’t be sure how long he had been standing there. Only that he hadn’t said a word to stop you or announce his presence. It was his shock that prevented him from speaking, surely.

For all the years you and Michael had been together, you were so cautious to never be caught, especially by Ashton who you respected enough to never purposely want to put in this position. This embarrassing position. Suddenly you were acutely aware of just exactly what Ashton was seeing. You were completely bare before him, only covered by the parts that Michael’s own body hid from view and maybe his large frame would be swallowing your small one more effectively if he had been leaning over you more but he wasn’t. Your face was washed in pleasure as your boyfriend, his best friend, drilled into you relentlessly. The way Michael had your legs spread guaranteed him a good view. You couldn’t even stop your moans in time so he was seeing and hearing every last detail. You’d never felt so exposed.

There was a battle within Ashton. It had started since the moment he walked in and heard you, then seen you two. His first thought was to announce his presence and tell you to find a room, or maybe to leave himself. But he couldn’t even fully develop that thought before he took a good look at the scene and he had trouble opening his mouth at all. With all his racing thoughts, it was hard to pick one to know what he was feeling but the drying of his throat as he heard your melodious moans and as he saw the way Michael had you submitted to him, body made easy to fuck and as he saw the pleasure before him, he had a good idea of just exactly which emotion was winning. His body sure knew anyway. And that part of him didn’t want to stop this.

But you took it upon yourself to do what he couldn’t. “A-Ashton”

You hadn’t meant to moan it out but with Michael’s thrusts never ceasing, it was hard to get anything out any other way.

It was a token of how lost in you Michael was, how focused on your pleasure and the feelings he hadn’t been able to have in weeks, that he hadn’t even noticed Ashton, his presence or your notice of his presence. So hearing his best friend’s name, or any other man’s name, coming from your mouth in a moment as intimate and sexual as this was disorienting. And infuriating as he felt a lick of jealousy and possessiveness creep into him.

His eyebrows furrowed as he tightened his already steely grip on your throat. “What the fuck did you just call me?” His thrusts never lightened and he heard you scream slightly, back arching, as he made sure to reach a crevice he knew would have you seeing stars. He didn’t know what you were playing at, whether you were trying to be a brat again to get him to go rougher but he quickly decided just how much he hated hearing you moan another man’s name while under him. Not when this was something only he had the right to do, the only one who had ever and will ever be with you in this way.

“N-no, no Mikey, Ashton h-he’s….” You trailed off but one of your hands reached to cover his that was on your neck and the other extended to point beside him.

You watched him finally look over to where Ashton stood. You were biting your lip to prevent more sounds from escaping you as you saw him and Ashton finally make eye contact. You noticed when Michael leaned forward slightly, covering you up much more from Ashton’s gaze. And then you realized with horror that he hadn’t stopped thrusting in and out of you and didn’t seem like he was going to anytime soon.

Michael hips didn’t even falter when he saw his best friend watching him with wide eyes, a blush now adorning his cheeks in embarrassment and in reaction to the sinful sounds coming out of you. Try as you might, moans and whines still left your mouth for Ashton to hear, powerless but to respond to Michael’s stimulations.

Maybe if it was anyone else, Michael would have covered you up completely, preventing any man from being able to see your body, something only Michael should have access to. Maybe if it was anyone else other than his best friend he would completely eclipsed your small body with his large one, possessively. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was Ashton, whom he trusted so much. So he made no move other than to hide you just a bit more, trust or not, he wasn’t going to allow Ashton to be able to see all you. He didn’t deserve it, not just yet.

He continued thrusting into you, more deeply than before. The sound of skin slapping still echoed throughout the house. Michael’s stoic gaze didn’t leave Ashton’s and his tone when he spoke never wavered, it almost sounded like he was having a normal conversation. “Are you going to get out or just stay and watch?” He saw your mouth drop in surprise, eyes wide and embarrassment filling into your eyes.

Ashton didn’t respond, wasn’t sure if he physically could even if he tried. But Michael didn’t wait for it either, after a few seconds of silence and of him not moving to leave, Michael’s gaze left his, almost disinterested, and returned to your whimpering figure.

You couldn’t believe what Michael was doing, what you were letting him do. If there was ever a time that embodies just how much he was corrupting you, this would be it. This situation that you would’ve never otherwise been in without him. And what was worse was how much you liked it, you couldn’t deny the heat spreading through your body, how much wetter you were getting, the way you clamped down on Michael as the situation really set in. Your body was powerless but to respond to his rough thrusts still ravaging your body, how full you felt by him. It was hot to know Ashton was seeing just how good Michael was making you feel and was experiencing Michael’s dominance. Your eyes slipped down before you could stop yourself and you saw the bulge in Ashton’s pants. He was liking it just as much.

Maybe that’s what took away your embarrassment, at least hid it for the moment being. Or maybe it was Michael slapping your cheek. “Look at me.” His voice was just as dominating as it usually was and your whine was just as needy as it usually was. Your hips began moving of their own accord, desperate to meet his thrusts. You were forgoing any hint of shyness at your desperation being seen by someone else. You were too far gone, all you cared about was feeling Michael’s thrusts and getting to the release you had been needing for so long.

You heard Michael’s mocking chuckle. “Guess someone will see how much of a submissive whore you are, after all.” It felt as if your heart skipped a beat at his words.

Ashton was seemingly mesmerized. He hadn’t meant for his answer to be to stay and watch but he didn’t think he could move to leave, even if he wanted to. The only time when he felt as if he snapped out of it was when he saw Michael slap you. He always knew Michael was rough in bed, it was hard not to imagine when he overheard him so many times through the paper thin walls. But to see you welcome such degrading and rough treatment almost wantonly was an image that seemed to cause his already hard dick, strain even more against his pants. Especially when he had only ever seen you as a shy, quiet girl. This was a new side of you he had never expected would have even existed.

Suddenly he understood why Michael was with you. It shouldn’t have made sense. You were too different. You were too proper and sweet, much too much to ever be a part of something like this, and Michael was too violent and angry. Just watching Michael’s heavily tattooed torso and chest come into contact with your lower body with every thrust, you resembled a girl getting taken by the delinquent of whatever story you were a part of, one that should’ve never had you in that way, one that you should’ve never even looked twice at. Not for the first time, Ashton wondered how Michael had gotten someone like you. But as he watched you submit so easily to Michael, as he saw you letting Michael take you raw, the way your wetness was dripping around your inner thighs, his hand around your throat, his tattoos clashing almost violently against your completely bare skin, heard you crying out in pleasure, he knew that no matter how, Michael had ruined you, tainted you and made you to be perfect for him, the perfect slut he could fuck however he wanted because you wanted it just as much. Your body was his for the taking. Your sweetness made you the perfect fit for him. And he made sure you would never be content with anyone else ever again.

Ashton always wondered just how you two worked, with you being so tiny compared to Michael but now, he couldn’t help but watch just how your small body was taking him in. Though it couldn’t have been entirely with ease, he could tell with the roughness of Michael’s grip and thrusts, as if fighting against your walls to be able to bottom out inside you. He could see the way Michael fit tightly inside of your tiny cunt, the way you looked almost stuffed with his size each time he bottomed out in you. You looked so small under him, you almost looked like a doll. And somehow, knowing Michael was stretching you open made everything so much hotter.

And maybe he would’ve been able to hold out, just content with watching the tangle of moaning bodies in front of him and hearing the chorus of your moans and skin slapping, but then he heard you whimper out “Daddy, don’t stop.” and he had to physically hold back a groan, his hand coming up to palm himself above his jeans. Your voice was so filled with hazy pleasure that he didn’t know how Michael didn’t cum right then and there. It seemed as if Michael was fucking away your care about being watched, the pleasure was too high. He was rendering you dumb, unable to hold a thought still in your mind.

Michael made it clear he had no care about an audience; nothing could take his attention from you in these moments and he didn’t mind showing off just exactly what he did to you - what only he has ever done to you. Which is why he had no qualms about making you moan loader.

Grabbing a hold of your hair, he pulled you up off of the table and to your feet, regretfully pulling out of you. You didn’t even have the time to whine in disappointment before you were being practically flung onto the couch, landing with your knees bent on the seats and your hands and face over the backing of it, ass facing Michael’s approaching figure.

You couldn’t help but notice, with a blush, how much closer it was to Ashton. Part of you wondered if it was done on purpose, to rile up Ashton all the more, give him more of a show or if it was just to get you to a more comfortable place like Michael would’ve likely wanted you to think. It was easy to forget what was happening before, to not remember that you were currently being wrecked in front of your boyfriend’s best friend, letting him see everything, you naked and willing like a submissive slut. But now, it was impossible not to see and be aware of just how exactly you were being exposed for their pleasure when you were directly across from him and it was wrong to be aware of how much your pussy heated up with want and how you clenched around nothing while Michael took his place behind you. His heavily tattooed upper body just helped him look even more daunting behind you at his full height, towering over your cute figure easily and vastly.

He took a hold of your hips before quickly entering you again, easy as if it was his rightful place. But he stopped his own movements once he was buried in you to the hilt. He groaned out under his breath when your hips circled, crying out for more. “Good girl.” He muttered before he began hammering into you with a speed you had been dreaming of. After weeks of nothing, this felt so so good. And despite the fact it looked as if Michael could have been ripping you apart with the size difference, you were taking it so well. You were so little, if Michael pulled you up against his chest, even at the elevated position you were in then, you’d barely reach his chin. And he knew the reason Michael wasn’t doing just that was because no matter how much he trusted Ashton, he wouldn’t let anyone experience you entirely, he’d never completely expose you like that to anyone else.

Your eyes closed almost immediately at the sensation, your head thrown back allowed Michael to take a hold of your hair to keep you still. He pulled just enough for it to hurt and your mouth dropped open, the bruises on your neck from Michael’s hands visible. The hungry screams that escaped you from his vigorous thrusts didn’t embarrass you, you had given up trying to silence or lower your sounds for Ashton’s sake. But your screams of ecstasy still reverberated through the house. They were breathy and full of desire, feeling your body move to match Michael’s. You couldn’t think straight enough to formulate words.

But then Michael pulled harshly on your hair again, “Open your eyes.” And when you did and met Ashton’s gaze directly, you felt yourself blush, at least having the decency to feel a little embarrassed at your weakness in front of him. And by his blush and almost pained expression at his own desires arising, you couldn’t tell for which of you Michael’s orders were more degrading for. “Tell him how much you love getting fucked by me.”

You sucked in a breath. There you were, gazing at Ashton eye to eye as your body moved from the thrusts racking your person as your grunting boyfriend was behind you, fucking you without mercy. Not caring that he was doing all of this in front of his friend. In fact he didn’t look the least bit embarrassed or uncertain. He never had issues doing things publicly or where you could get caught and even in this extreme he looked unbothered, as if this was just any other time you had sex. He didn’t care about being watched, especially watched making you feel good. Because he never cared about other people or their opinions, even in moments like these. You were the one and only exception in his life so his only focus was your pleasure and experiencing you as he saw fit. And the possessive part of him wanted to make it clear to everyone that it was him that was doing this to you, fucking and destroying you so well. That he was the only one that knows and will ever know your body, he had claimed it and you making it so you were conditioned to always respond to him and only him; and you were powerless to stop it. He wanted them to see how submissive you were for him because you were his.

Your hands clenched into tiny fists on top of the couch, your mouth open as you continued to whimper and moan, face furrowing every now and then as Michael’s thick cock reached a particularly deep part inside of you. You couldn’t even hide your face as Michael held it in the air by your hair to keep your eyes on Ashton. You couldn’t help but see Ashton gasp at Michael’s request as well, his hand in his pants moving faster than before.

It was almost too much, too dirty. But when Michael moved to be further on top of you, his chest leaning directly on your back so he could whisper in your ear. “You’re just my fucking cocksleeve that I can use whenever I want.”

Maybe it was his words or maybe it was the way the new angle made him, with every slowing thrust, hit your g-spot every time. You could feel him against your tight walls, fitting so perfectly in you. But your face scrunched up in pleasure, a particularly loud moan leaving you, your eyes never tearing from Ashton right in front of you.

He saw everything, every little reaction you had as your boyfriend fucked your small body so good. He could only see your face and torso as Michael large body completely eclipsed yours. Your size difference was never more obvious to Ashton as it felt as if Michael would break you in an instant with how weak and little you were to the point where he completely overtook you. Just a little more and he wouldn’t even be able to see you over Michael’s tattooed back. That knowledge was very clear in your mind as well and you loved it. Especially to know that Ashton was a witness to how you were completely dominated in all senses and protected by your big boyfriend. All you had were thoughts of pleasing and obeying Michael.

“I-I love it when he f-fucks me.” You told Ashton, watching how his eyes widened, dark with lust and his hand moving faster. Michael continued thrusting into you, not making his request of you speaking easy, spreading your ass as he did which made you gasp out whenever he bottomed out inside of you sharply. You writhed forward at his thrusts and feeling but he kept you in place, preventing you from moving forward and away, keeping you at the perfect angle where he could move as deeply and as quickly as he wanted in you, using you for his pleasure just as much as he was providing it. His thrusts were sharp and precise. Your head fell downwards at the pleasure of his hips, moaning, but never for long before he pulled you hair to have your head up in the air and eyes on Ashton yet again, back to the humiliating position of having to watch as Ashton was witness to your sinful and horny actions. You could feel your orgasm coming close and your toes curled at the feeling. This was what you wanted and had been craving for, what you’d teased Michael for in the first place.

Ashton didn’t seem to mind your stutters, broken sentences or even your dirty words. Your voice was small and breathy mixed in with whines and gasps. You could’ve sworn you heard him groan out, muttering a small Fuck under his breath. But Michael didn’t seem as mad as he would be in any other situation where a guy was getting off to his girlfriend. Maybe because no matter what, he was the one that was currently drilling into your tiny pussy, leaving it a mess.

Your next words weren’t part of the script but you knew it would please your boyfriend. “He…he fucks me so good, I’m his…his dirty little fucktoy” Your mind was buzzing and your heart clanged against your chest. It was so degrading, even humiliating but still you couldn’t help but feel even closer to your release.

Michael’s hips stuttered at your words, caught off guard. “Shit.” Your words fulfilled his possessive appetite perfectly. Hearing you claim yourself as his in front of someone, with your voice completely filled with pleasure was hotter than he ever imagined. You knew just what he wanted, without him even having to tell you completely. Holding you closer as his continued thrusting in an out of you, grunting with each thrust. He was moving your body for you, moving your small size so easily up and down on his big dick - just like a toy. At times pulling out to the tip just to be able to impale you back down to hear your gasped out moan. You were clenching your already tight walls around him to hug his cock impossibly tight. He had lasted so much longer than he thought possible with you feeling this good.

“Thats right, squeeze daddy’s cock just like that, little one.” Michael groaned out. He could feel himself being close, if he wasn’t before he definitely was after your words. The urge to cum inside you and claim your pussy, with his cum filling and dripping down you, had never been larger. But he wanted to see you spasm around him first, fully showcase just how good he was making you feel. “I’m going to stuff you with my cum in front of him. Gonna show him how my bitch lets me cum inside of her, breed her. This is my fucking cunt.”

It was too much, the image he had planted in your head, the certainty he felt in claiming you no matter in front of who, especially when his tatted hand came around your body to find your clit. You screamed at the same time you came around him, eyes closed as you still faced Ashton. “Yes daddy cum inside me, please. F-fill me up.” You were whining like a bitch in heat. You sounded as delirious as you looked. You were almost drooling in desire for his cum. Your mind was gone.

But it wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t be expected to go weeks without your boyfriends cock, not when you were so spoiled and used to having him whenever either of you felt needy. It had been like a self inflicted punishment. But if sex like this was what you got afterwards, after teasing him then you had to do it more often.

That was all it took for Ashton, seeing you fall apart completely and hearing your dirtiest words as of yet. He wished he could be more embarrassed about cumming from the sight of best friend’s girlfriend getting railed but he couldn’t bring himself to be as he watched you still getting milked.

“Fucking cum hungry slut” Michael cursed out loud when he felt you tremble beneath him.

“Yesyesyes”He felt your cum around his cock and that was all it took for him to be releasing into you, holding on to your hips with a loud groan. He heard you whimper at the feeling of his cum filling you up to the brim. He wasn’t sure if it was just how long it had been since the last time he had had you like that or just the situation but he felt as he never came as hard before in his life. He’d never let himself be deprived of you for so long ever again.

Even when he pulled out, some cum still splashed onto your thighs and back but you did nothing but breath out heavily and snuggle deeper into the couch, hiding your body from any wandering eyes, exhausted and still in disbelief. Michael really had corrupted you beyond your wildest imagination.

Ashton was leaning on the wall behind him, breathing just as heavily as the two in front of him. He watched Michael, with his glistening body and labored breaths, take a hold of the first fabric he could find and clean off any excess on your body. It wasn’t lost on Ashton what it meant that you trusted Michael enough to let fuck you raw and cum inside you instead of using a condom, the intimacy of it all. Silently, Michael stared at you with soft eyes - so different from the hard and focused ones he had on while relentlessly driving into you. And if he hadn’t known the dynamic of your relationship before, it would have been very obvious to Ashton now, just how much Michael loved you. Even after he had degraded you so much just moments before. Michael wouldn’t ever care for anyone the same way he was currently tending to you, he never had and never will again. Even if he was infinitely more experienced with infinitely more people, this behavior from him was for you and only you. You were the only one he would ever love as much. His focus was entirely on you, ignoring the audience as he had been for the majority of the time. He didn’t care, his only care was ever on you. But even he couldn’t deny how hot the situation had been.

Michael didn’t say it but Ashton knew, even if it was just an accident and even if it had been used to embarrass you and dominate you even further, that he was lucky to ever be allowed to see you like he had just done. Michael likely wouldn’t have let anyone else so close, maybe just enough to see him wrecking you and enough to hear you but never so intimately and exposed as Ashton had witnessed. He was too jealous for that. But he trusted Ashton and knew you did too.

So why would he have to stop his moment with you, one he had been needy for for weeks when he didn’t have to or want to. He didn’t care about anyone or anyone’s feelings or thoughts, other than you. Nothing would keep him away from you in that moment, especially after being teased as he had been. And Ashton was thankful to have walked in on such a hot scene. A front row seat to his own personal porn video.

Your face was heating up as you peaked out from the couch. Embarrassment and timidness was clear as you chewed on your lower lip. It was almost comical to see you like that now after the side of you that you had just let out. But you had never been in that position before, only having heard it from the very dirtiest talk your boyfriend had mentioned before in bed. But never did you think it would really happen. Ashton had seen you begging to get fucked and bred, seen your naked body, heard all of your dirtiest sounds and words and seen the way you submitted to your boyfriend as he dominated over you as he always did. What would he think of you?

But you only saw the way his pants were unzipped and unbuttoned, the disheveled look he watched you with. And you didn’t think you saw a hint of judgement in his gaze, just horniness and shock.

It was silent, neither of you knowing what to say and Michael not caring enough to break the silence.

But eventually Ashton couldn’t take it and he tried to make his voice was filled with humor as it usually was. “Dude….we-we eat on that table.” He stuttered, it was hard not to after what he had just seen. His mouth was dry and he licked his lips to wet them.

Michael threw his jacket over your small body, its size enough to cover your entire figure. But then he looked directly at Ashton, not a hint of the embarrassment you were experiencing. He didn’t feel the need, he had given Ashton a choice. And he had gotten to please you and get to finally feel you around him again which were the only things he really cared about in the world; you and making you feel good. Fuck everyone else.

In fact, he felt a swell of pride at having claimed you so thoroughly, shown just how well he had tainted you to be his. He felt even better that he could finally fuck you like he had been wanting without being interrupted or having to stop because of the interruption; he didn’t have to be angry or protective over you because Ashton was too mesmerized by you and what happened to make you feel even shyer.

“I didn’t hear you complaining.”

#5sos smut #5sos #Michael clifford #Michael clifford smut #Michael clifford x reader #bad boy smut #bad boy michael #5sos imagines #jealous smut #possessive smut #college au #jealous bad boy #jealous michael #Ashton Irwin smut

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a-pale-azure-moon · 2 years ago

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Welcoming the first snowfall of the winter where I live today. Big puffy flakes are currently falling outside my window, and it's sticking to all the trees and power lines. I dread the onset of winter a little more each year, but even on my most cynical days, I do still think there's something magical about a fresh snow. After all the colorful fall leaves disappear, the world's just nothing but drab grays and browns, so when it gets coated in fresh white like this, it truly transforms the landscape.

I'm trying to work on fic today too, so the snow seems even more appropriate. The children of Faerghus probably anticipate the first snow with eagerness, jumping out of bed all excited to play in it. Their parents probably grouse and grumble about the cold and needing to clear the snow from the front steps of their houses. Or how the cold and snow in general just makes all of their daily tasks harder.

Thinking about the royal castle in Fhirdiad, snow clinging to its towers and spires. Castle servants sweeping walkways in the gardens and shaking snowflakes out of the blue banners. Extra wood is thrown onto all the fireplaces to keep the drafts under control. The windows frost up and have to be wiped clean to let in the pale sunlight.

Young Dimitri wakes to new snow with excitement. If his friends are around, they all run out into the yard to play, having snowball wars and practicing their weapons training under the new slipery conditions. If none of the other Lions are around, Dimitri pesters his father to come outside for just a little while, and Lambert always eventually caves.

Teenage Dimitri looks at the snow with regret, as it's the sign of another year's passing where he still hasn't found answers for the Tragedy. He thinks on past memories of happier days and buries his loneliness under his smile.

Adult Dimitri, wandering in exile, finds that the snow makes Imperial battalions easier to hunt, as they don't cover their footprints and they didn't come equipped to deal with Faerghus winters. He steals resources from their camps after destroying them, and those rations help him survive the winter. When the blizzards come, he takes shelter wherever he can find it and bitterly wonders if the weather will kill him before his vengeance quest does. The howling winds carry the cries of his lost loved ones as they remind him of his failures and weaknesses.

King Dimitri, returned to his rightful place, anticipates his peoples' need for more resources when the winter comes, and makes sure more firewood and bread are available for anyone who requires them. He takes breaks from paperwork by going to the training yard, the rookie soldiers marveling at how their king looks like he's dancing in the snowflakes as he goes through his lance drills. Late at night, after a hard day's work, he climbs into bed next to Byleth and they fall asleep cuddled together.

#holy kingdom of faerghus #blue lions #fandom ramblings #3H headcanons #snow often puts me in a contemplative mood #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #had to sneak a smattering of dimileth in there at the end

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ac3id · 4 years ago

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Redamancy. iii

Redamancy (n.) The act of loving in return.

pairings: mirio togata x female reader

warnings: 18+, noncon, yandere themes, breeding kink n mirio is a scumbag.

a/n: ahaha im reposting this cus algorithm was effed the first time i posted. ehehehe or maybe im just unlucky-- n e way this will be the last of redamany!!

word count: 1950

navigation ☼

← part i, ii

Mirio's gaze turned to you, sky blue eyes stared at how you sipped on your drink. Your glossy, pink stained lips puckered around the straw. Was that a new shade? You had never put something like that on before. Probably tasted like strawberries or cherries, "Mirio!" your voice drove him out his thoughts. You stood in front of him, your hands at your hip, "What are you thinking about?" Mirio felt his cheeks heat up.

'I was thinking about you sucking my dick, do you mind?'

"Nothing, we should get going. Lunch's bout' to get over soon." He grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the school building, you almost trip over your feet, "Hey! Slow down!" You bump into his chest which was hard as rock making your head sting a little, "You're a klutz," he laughs. "It's your fault!" you retort, he pats your head and continues laughing. He takes a good look at you, drinking your uniform clad body. The short skirt displaying your plush thighs. His mind melts away in sinful thoughts, thinking about all what he can do to you. He once again realizes how much smaller you are compared to him. His entire hand can literally cover your face, he can easily pick you and throw you over his shoulder.

What is stopping him? Seriously?

His smile drops when he catches you staring at him. The guy he beat up months ago and threatened to stay out of your life. You were staring at him chatting away, giggling with some nameless girl. He studied your sully expression, your eyes looked sad, and lip turned into a sad pout; he could tell you were upset and that pissed him off. Why did you still think about him? Why did you still care about that jerk? Didn't you move on yet?

Mirio felt himself get riled up from the same rage he had felt the first time he had seen you with this man. The frustration, anger, and jealousy all came surging back to him as he realized that you obviously did not feel the same way about him as he did about you. Maybe he'll have to do more than just be nice to get you to understand he's the one for you, the one and only.

He would show you who you belong to. You will get what is coming.

"Hey, what's wrong? You coming?" His hand rested on your shoulder, he gripped on it a little tighter.

Mirio walked into an empty classroom which echoed soft sobs and sniffles. You sat on your seat, your head resting on the desk as you cried. Mirio's face paled and he rushed to you, wrapping his arms around you pulling your upper half to his chest he rubbed your head. "It's okay now, I am here," he whispered into your ear, shushing you. "What happened?" he asked after you had calmed down.

"Why are you still here?"

"I came to get you, now, what happened?" you gulped before answering, feeling the lump in your throat rise as your voice cracked. "Why?"

Mirio was confused, what were you on about? "Am I not good enough? Why did he leave me?" tears roll down your cheeks, lip trembling your breathing turns uneven. Mirio frowns, his hands clenching into an fist he pulls away from the hug.

You were thinking about him, obviously. He moves in front of you grabbing your jaw, his big fingers squish your tiny cheeks. Your eyes widened in horror as he pulls your face closer to him, his elbows resting on the desk separating the two. He looks down at you, his eyes bored into yours with malice, "Mirio you're-" "Shut the fuck up." he snapped.

"You want to know why he left you? Why did your precious little pretty boy leave you?" you were too scared to answer, you didn't get to anyways since he blurted the out the answer in burning rage "Because. I fucking told him to stay away from you. Got it?" Your eyebrows knit together and tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, in a blink on eye he had become so different. He had snapped, you felt betrayed. The Mirio you knew would never be this rough with you, but maybe you were to blame. Deep down you knew. You were very much aware. Mirio liked you even after your breakup but you never asked, thinking it was better that way but not in a million years did you ever think that Mirio would snap and come for your soul.

"I fucking beat him up. You know why I did that?" he asked again. His voice was menacing, he was shouting at you and you were scared. "Answer me! You fucking ungrateful bitch!" You flinched and started whimpering, a weak no left your trembling lips, "It's because you're mine." he spat, he waited for you to say something but you were still trying to process his words. It was a lot to take in, you couldn't believe that Mirio would ever do something like that. You wanted to think this was a joke but no, he was dead serious.

The ray of sunshine, the great hero to be, Mirio Togata was a scumbag, no. He was worse.

You started releasing the situation you were in, there was no doubt, he wouldn't hesitate to hurt you too. The flight or fight instinct kicked in and you tried to free your face from his grasp. After successfully freeing yourself from his chains you got up from the desk and made a run for the door. Mirio stared at you in disbelief, his eyes wide and lips curled upwards he internally laughed at your foolishness. Wasting no time, he quickly got behind you capturing your wrist and pulling you back to his chest. A large hand wrapped around your waist, keeping you securely pinned to his torso.

You were so stupid. Did you seriously think you could get away from him? He is twice your size.

"Where are you going?" he pulled both your hands behind your back and held them there with one hand, the other snaked down under your skirt, "Mirio don't do this. I won't tell anyone. Please let me go." you begged your voice shaky as big, fat teardrops rolled down your cheek. "What will you tell them? They won't believe you and besides," his fingers inched towards your core, you squirmed and wailed. His fingers rubbed against your clothed slit, pressing against your clit sending shameful jolts of pleasure throughout your body. "I will scream," you whispered before breaking into soft sobs. He was going to rape you in your own classroom and there was nothing you could do against it. With no quirk to protect yourself, you knew physically overpowering him was a dream. You just prayed that he would leave you.

"You're gonna' scream?" he scoffed, his tone was cocky- ridiculing you. "Go ahead, scream," his fingers rubbed harder against your clothed cunt as he waited for you to scream. The scream never came and Mirio started, "You're getting wet down here, you know. You like this?" pushing away your panties to the side, he let his finger graze over your sensitive folds a content sigh following right after. "You're really wet. I think I can just slide it in."

He dipped two of his fingers into your cunt while rubbing your clit with his thumb. "What do you want?" you cried as his huge fingers drilled into your small, tight pussy. "What do I want? I want you to know you're mine. Only mine." he growled in your ear. "But I guess you don't realize that. Do you? Don't worry after I knock you up you won't be able to leave me, maybe then you'll understand." your lips fell agape, and eyes widened threatening to pop right out of your sockets, "N-no pleasee don't do that. P-please-" Mirio pushed you towards the teacher's desk, bending you over it. Your face pressed against the cold wood yet you keep whimpering, begging him to let you free but he doesn't care. He's not listening.

He flips your skirt over leaving your ass a sight to his wretched eyes. He brings his hand down spanking it then pulling away to watch how your plump flesh jiggles, he chuckles. "I should beat this pretty little ass purple and blue," he talks to himself, completely disheartening your cries for help. He smacks your ass until he's satisfied- until your bottom blooms red and his palm stings. Mirio wastes no time in getting behind you, his hand still pinned both of yours behind your back. He slowly releases them, "Now. No funny business," he warns. He knows you wouldn't try anything, you couldn't; not in this state.

One of his hands grips your waist tightly while the other kneads your ass, "Ah shit, look at that." he whispers. "It's beautiful but it's not enough." He is quick to pull your panties down to your thighs and spread your legs open. You hold on to the edges of the desk as you feel his fingers run up your slit and dip into your hole.

"Cute, little cunt. All mine."

His length comes free from its confines and hits his stomach. It's long, hard, and big- so big. You had it impale you before multiple times but it had always been a stretch. His cock was just too big for your tiny pussy! His tip teased your entrance. Your hole drooling over it, he hissed. "I am going to knock you up. You won't be leaving me after that." He pushed inside slowly marveling at how your cunt sucked him up so eagerly, your mouth opened into a silent scream as he bottomed out. He didn't give you time to adjust to his size, he kept rutting his hips. He thrust his cock deep inside you hard and fast, swollen balls slapping against your clit making you moan. The sinful sound of sex: his hips hitting your rear, grunts and moans resonate through the room while you stayed there, under him feeling embarrassed, betrayed, and humiliated. Yet you could not ignore the pleasure he was giving you. His cock hit deep inside you, his tip kissing your cervix trying its best to sink past the rim, your cries of agony soon turned into frenzied moans.

You were close to cumming, he could tell by how tightly your precious cunt clenched around his hard length pulling him even deeper, squeezing him trying to milk him for all he's worth. "I feel that..gonna' fill you up," he says in between his grunts. Mirio tightened his grip on your hips as you started squirming beneath him, the coil in your stomach ready to burst and moment. "You're close, baby?" You whined refusing to give in, "Aww, it's fine. Just admit it: you're mine and I'll let you cum." His thrusts slowed down denying to give you satisfaction, you wailed at the loss yet you didn't agree with him. You were to give in, you told yourself but your body didn't agree. It needed Mirio and just like that it had taken over your mind, clouded your mind with nothing but lust and him. As the need for release increased, you screamed. "Ah- fuck. Yes! I am all yours- ah!" he steadied his rhythm and you exploded all over his cock. Creaming around him, your juices flowed down to your legs. Mirio length twitched inside of you, his thrusts became sloppy- he was close.

"Yeah damn fucking right. Good girl." he praised before spilling his seed inside your womb, filling you up to the brim. He pulled out and watched how his cum dripped from your abused pussy only to push it back inside with his finger. "You actually did it..." your voice was meek, head still down and body still bent over the desk. Too weak to get up, you started at the floor beneath you with glassy eyes. Mirio pulled you up and wrapped his arms around you tightly, making sure you don't run away. The hug was warm, in any other case it would have been warm and comforting but not anymore.

"This would not have happened, Y'know. It's your fault for being such a bitch."

Right, of course, you should have been smarter. You should have loved him back when you could have.

feedback is greatly appreciated <3 <taglist!!dm us if ya wanna get added or removed !!!>

@mylovelyreblogs @amahzing004 @thoughtfulpandazine2 @the-one-who-ate-god @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love @annimalq @reader-stash @rcjackie @leeladebris @expn @vocaloidinlove @edgycactus @neon-tries-writing @shiggydiggydicked @yandereguysgalsandmonsterpals @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa @chxrryvibes @yanderesmemory @purple-rabanito @amajikistan99 @the-grimm-writer @n4dhii @imkumichan @akura-ous-lady @dabicakes @leeknowstoomuch @nereida19 @sahrafinee @uwubba @anime-girl-nikki @rekoii @badtimechara @peachyashell @weirdr-artiest @prince-zukohere @deliciousstar @murderfesto @mltcp @alunafort @mrsllawliet @supernaturaldreamergirl1130 @hawkgirl27845 @fannegirl @kat-su-ki

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laurfilijames · 4 years ago

Text

Wild Horses- Part 1 (Prequel to Slow Burn)

Pairing: Modern AU Fili x Female OC Prim

Words: 3,359

Warnings: injury (dislocated shoulder and deep cut, mention of concussion), blood, injuries being treated. Swearing. Illusions of sex/smut. Military personnel in a training activity. Sound of an explosion.

Summary: This is the beginning of the story of Fili and Prim. They meet in this chapter by accident and sweet Fili helps tend to Prim after falling off her horse, sparking their connection and attraction to each other.

A/N: My lovely and dear friend helped me immensely with this by not only being my beta and editing it (multiple times) as well as encouraging me through my many moments of doubt. She is incredible and I will forever be grateful to her for her kindness and amazing way with words. @guardianofrivendell this one's for you!

—————-

Prim could sense it.

The young, inexperienced horse she was on was going to spook. Apollo flinched at every bird that flew overhead and every rustle in the leaves on the trees and bushes that surrounded them.

She knew it wasn’t the best idea, going out for a trail ride alone on a green horse, but it needed to happen. If she was going to use him as a lesson horse to teach her more novice riders, he needed to be able to handle these types of situations so she wasn’t constantly worried about him taking off on them and someone getting injured.

Prim made an attempt to calm him down with a reassuring pat on his neck, “It’s okay, buddy, you’re alright,”

After a few minutes of walking soundly, Prim felt more comfortable and she was finally able to enjoy their surroundings. But it was short lived when a loud explosion sounded in the distance, causing her gelding to leap forward into a canter and take off quickly down the trail.

“Woah, woah! Easy!” she called out to him as she attempted to slow him down, seating her weight down hard in the saddle and trying to regain control with her reins. She spun him around in a tight circle to get him to stop, but he flung his head to the other side hard, hopping as he did and then bucked before taking off again.

Prim had dealt with horses spooking more times than she cared to count, but still the familiar nervousness fluttered in her stomach and in her head she knew if he didn’t ease off soon she was going to end up on the ground.

Despite her efforts, the poor horse wasn’t having it, proceeding to gallop full tilt through the wooded area with no destination in mind.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, a second explosion sounded, causing the horse to freak out even more.

Apollo suddenly left the trail and bolted into the bushes instead. Prim tried to dodge the low hanging branches as best as she could by keeping her face close to the horse’s neck, but couldn’t avoid a twig whipping against her cheek. The warm drop of blood trickling down her face went unnoticed.

Just as she made the decision to dismount, he bucked again and threw her from his back.

Prim landed hard on the ground, her body making a loud thud, pain instantly screaming through her left shoulder.

A wave of nausea washed over her, knowing something was broken or dislocated, but she refused to let herself pass out, she needed to get her horse back and help for herself.

She swayed a little when she brought herself to stand, exhaling through her mouth to try and breathe through the pain.

The weight of her arm hanging at her side was enough to make her want to vomit, so she supported it by gripping her elbow with her right hand. Her shoulder was definitely dislocated but she didn’t have the strength or knowledge to replace it on her own.

Just start walking, she thought, willing herself to move in the direction her horse had gone. Luckily the ground was muddy, so locating his hoof prints was easy.

She fought against the nausea and softly hummed a tune to try and distract herself. Her vision started to blur and she didn’t know how long she could stay awake. She needed to find someone and fast.

Sweat beaded down her face and Prim moved with as much speed as she could manage, hoping it wouldn’t take long to find Apollo.

“STOP! Stop! Hold your fire!” Fili yelled when he saw a horse gallop straight into the field his soldiers were practicing drills in.

What the fuck?

This was a first.

The horse was fully tacked, but missing its rider.

“Kili, can you try to grab it?” he instructed his brother. “I’m going to go look for its rider.” Judging by the bewildered look and how sweaty and terrified the horse was, the rider was most likely in rough shape.

Fili took off at a run into the forest, quickly tracking and following the hoof prints from where the horse had come from.

Within a couple of minutes he caught sight of the rider, a young woman staggering toward him, also following the tracks made by her horse.

“Hey, are you okay?” he panted, stopping in front of her. Her face was bleeding, a deep gash on her cheek just below her eye and she looked awfully pale.

“My horse took off-“ she began, wincing as her trembling hand tried to support her arm. Fili noticed right away that her shoulder was dislocated.

“Yeah it ran into our training area, he’s okay we’ve got a hold of him,” Fili explained, knowing the woman would be concerned about her horse’s safety.

“Sit down, I’m going to pop your shoulder back in,”

The woman’s eyes widened with disbelief, probably thinking she would be taken to the hospital for treatment, causing Fili to chuckle slightly at her alarm.

“It’s okay, I’ve done this before. My younger brother really liked climbing trees when he was little,“ he tried to assure her with a smile.

Fili wasn’t a doctor, but he had enough experience from being in the military and a brother to Kili to help with this.

He gently helped her to the ground, knowing every movement was sending searing pain through her arm.

“This isn’t going to feel good, I’m sorry,” he apologized in advance, knowing how much this was hurting her, and how much more it was about to hurt going back into position.

“Yeah, it’s fine, just fucking do it, please,” she nearly begged, her eyes shut tight.

Before he did anything, he grabbed a small stick and held it up in front of her face.

“Here, bite on this,” he instructed.

She opened her mouth and he placed it between her teeth, giving her something to clamp down on.

“Ready?” he asked, placing his hands on her, one on her collarbone and the other on her upper arm.

She nodded yes and squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself.

With one swift motion, Fili pressed her arm up and back into its socket. She screamed through the stick in her mouth, tears springing from her eyes to mix with the blood and dirt on her cheeks.

“There, it’s okay, it’s done,” he soothed her, his concern switching from her arm to the gash on her face. The cut looked like it needed stitches.

She wiped the tears from her eyes quickly, seeming as if she was embarrassed for crying, only to look at her fingers that were now smeared with blood.

“Fucks sake,” she cursed, becoming more aware of her second injury.

“I think you need some stitches,” Fili explained. “I have some stuff back at the trucks. Are you okay to walk?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said as she stood too quickly, losing her balance slightly and grabbing onto his arm for support.

She looked at him for the first time and he couldn’t help but smile.

She was stunning.

Her eyes were green and vibrant despite the pain that showed in them.

“I can carry you,” he offered.

She nodded yes, and he was happy for it.

He stepped to the other side of her so it would be her uninjured arm that hung around his neck, allowing the previously dislocated one to rest on her body. He scooped her up easily, hooking her legs in the crook of his arm, his other hand clutching around her waist.

He walked a few steps before he felt her head rest against his shoulder, and for some reason it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Fili remained quiet as he walked the short distance back to the training area, not wanting to disturb the woman resting in his arms.

Kili sprinted over to him as soon as he entered the field, closing the distance quickly.

“Hey, is she okay?” Kili asked, looking over her condition as Fili continued walking to his truck.

“She dislocated her shoulder, I already fixed it, but I’m worried she might have a concussion,” he nodded at the cut on her cheek, “This is pretty deep too.”

He looked down at the woman still tucked up against him, “I’m going to set you down now, okay?” Fili stated, placing her gently on the open tailgate of his truck.

“Thank you, but I’m fine, really, I just need to get my horse and go-“

“I don’t think so, I need to dress this cut,” he insisted.

Kili walked over, holding the reins and guiding her horse over to them.

“Is he okay?” The woman asked, more concerned about her horse than herself. Fili smiled to himself as he watched her eagerly look over her horse, searching for any injuries from where she sat.

“Yeah, he seems to be fine now, just scared,” Kili explained to her as he pet the horse on the neck and spoke softly to it.

“Kili is great with horses, he’s in good hands,” Fili assured her, “you’re the one who needs looking after now,” he smiled.

As much as Prim hated feeling weak and vulnerable, regardless of being injured, she felt comfortable in the presence of this soldier. She couldn’t believe that she allowed him to carry her all the way here either, she just wasn’t that type of girl, always looking after herself. But there was something about him that made her feel at ease.

Prim admired his features as he gathered the supplies to clean and dress her face.

He appeared a few years older than her, his age given away by the fine lines that decorated the skin around his eyes and forehead. He was quite handsome, and his piercingly blue eyes made her chest tighten every time they looked at her.

He removed the black helmet from his head, revealing blond waves that were slicked back with sweat.

Prim lifted her arm to remove her own helmet, but was stopped by the pain that still lingered in her shoulder.

“Here, let me,” the soldier offered, moving his thick fingers to unbuckle the strap under her chin.

After taking off her helmet, he began to gently wipe the blood from her cheek. She couldn’t help but flinch when he touched it a little harder than she knew he meant to, the regret clear on his face.

She smiled despite the pain, “It’s okay, I’m fine,” she said, giving him permission to continue.

“It might need stitches,” he explained, his brows knitted together, “I only have surgical strips on me but I think they’ll hold.”

“I trust you,” she said, unsure exactly why she did.

He chuckled quietly, the sound rumbling through his chest that made his body move as he did it.

She wanted to hear him do that again.

She found it difficult to know where to look with him being so close to her face, making the act seem extremely intimate.

She took in the stubble that coated his cheeks that she knew had been shaved yesterday and grown back already, the indent in his nose that perhaps formed from it being broken, and the curve of his lips that were parted slightly as he concentrated on taking care of her cut. Then her eyes landed on his extremely curly, blond chest hair peeking out through the collar of his undershirt and she felt inclined to touch it.

Prim could tell even through his military gear that his physique was solid and defined.

Dirty thoughts stirred up in her mind as she continued to look him over, his gorgeous face a welcome distraction from the sting on her cheek and unrelenting ache in her shoulder.

Was he single? she wondered. Not possible.

Although his fingers were thick and his hands were dirty and calloused, they were deft and skilled and she imagined how they would feel on other parts of her body.

Would he be the type of lover who was gentle and attentive, yet capable of rough and eager pleasure?

Yes. Definitely, she decided.

As her thoughts continued that way, she came to the realization that he was standing between her legs, his thick torso a demanding presence against her inner thigh. It was enough to feel her cheeks heat up and she prayed that he wouldn’t notice or think it was from the adrenaline of her accident.

She needed to think of something else.

Letting her vanity get the best of her she broke the silence between them.

“It’s going to leave a nasty scar, isn’t it?”

His eyes moved from the cut where he was focused up to meet hers and smiled, revealing his dimples once more.

“You’ll still be beautiful,” he said and winked at her.

Fuck.

She was done for and she didn’t even know his name.

“Can I get the name of the soldier who saved my day?” Prim asked curiously as he removed his fingers from her cheek.

“Fili,” he answered with a grin.

Those fucking dimples.

“Thank you, Fili,” she beamed back at him. “I’m Prim.”

He looked up at her through his blond eyelashes, regarding her with something that hinted at amusement, “It’s nice to meet you, Prim,” his voice was husky and made her flush even more.

She liked the sound of her name on his lips.

“Well, I think I should probably head back, let you get on with whatever this is-“ she waved the hand of her good arm in the direction of where a group of soldiers stood waiting for instructions, “I don’t want to cause any more trouble,” she carefully slid off the back of the truck and took the reins from the man who’s name was Kili, dreading her walk back.

“You’re not riding back, are you?” Kili asked her, slightly alarmed.

Yes, she thought but decided to change her mind so as not to make them worried.

“Uhh, no, I’ll walk back, it’s only a couple of kilometres.”

She was definitely mounting up again as soon as she was out of sight, regardless of how her shoulder felt.

“I’ll walk with you,” the blond offered, and her stomach flipped.

“No, please, you’ve done enough. I don’t want to be anymore of a disruption,” she said, trying to maintain her pride.

“I insist. It’s no trouble. I can have my brother pick me up from your barn,” he explained with another smile. “And I’d like to make sure you get back okay.”

Prim swallowed, not only was he sexy as hell, he was sweet too.

“Only if you’re insisting,” she said with a sly smirk.

She looked him over, thinking maybe he was keen to be in her company a little longer as well.

Prim turned to Kili and thanked him for his help before starting through the field in the direction of the forest from where she came. She had Apollo’s reins clutched in the hand of her uninjured side with him following easily behind her, and Fili striding along with them to her left.

She typically never felt awkward or shy around anyone, usually exuding confidence and sometimes maybe even a little cockiness when it came to talking to men, but Fili made her feel different. She couldn’t think of anything to say to him and she cursed herself.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Good, considering. A little achy and tired, but I’ll live,” she couldn’t help but grin and look away because of how intensely he was staring at her, his blue eyes piercing.

“Make sure you get some rest,” Fili advised.

“I will,” she lied. She still had ten stalls to muck out and hungry horses to feed when she returned to the barn and it was going to take her twice as long with one arm hardly being of any use.

“So how long have you been training there?” Prim asked, wondering how she never noticed military training before today in the area she rode through so often.

“Not long, but we will be more frequently,” he explained.

“I should probably start avoiding this area then, right?” she quipped.

“I would recommend it,” Fili grinned.

Unless I want to see you again, she thought.

Fili took in the facility when they arrived, admiring the large arena and sprawling fields where multiple horses were scattered about, grazing in the sunshine.

“So you run all of this?” he asked, thinking what a demanding task that would be.

“Mhm,” Prim hummed as she walked into the barn and started untacking Apollo. “I took over the business from my coach about two years ago.”

“And you do everything by yourself?” Fili wondered.

She laughed, making him want to hear her do it over and over. “For the most part. I do have some students who help with chores in exchange for lessons, which helps a ton, but that’s only a few times a week.”

He watched her pause when it was time to remove the saddle from the horse’s back, prompting him to quickly offer to do it for her, knowing her shoulder couldn’t manage reaching up to lift it.

“I’ll get it,”

“Thanks,” she pointed to a saddle rack on the wall, “you can just set it over there.”

Fíli placed it down and turned to face her.

“Would you like to come out for a bite to eat and some drinks tonight?” The words came out of his mouth before he knew what he was doing.

He saw her hesitation and cringed, thinking he had crossed a line, and bit his lip as he tried to recover.

“It’s nothing big, just myself and Kili and his girlfriend, you don’t need to feel obligated though.”

He felt like an idiot. She was probably tired and sore and the last thing she would want to do is go out.

But he wanted to see her again. He refused to let this be it.

“I’d love to.”

Fili sighed with relief, happy she agreed.

Prim approached him, now standing close enough he could lean forward and kiss her if he was ever so bold.

“I’ll give you my number so you can let me know the details,” she held her hand out for him to place his phone in.

She tucked her bottom lip in her teeth in an effort to restrain her smile while she typed her information into his contacts before handing it back to him.

He laughed when he read what she listed as the name with her phone number; Horse Girl With The Messed Up Face.

“Just in case you confuse me with any other damsel in distress you happen to rescue,” she winked at him and he stifled a growl.

“There could be no confusion, Prim,” he assured her.

“Fili?” They heard Kili call from the main entrance, seeing him turn the corner and spot them. “Sorry to interrupt-“ he trailed off, making Fili take a step back from Prim.

“I’ll be right there, Ki,” Fili said to his brother.

Looking back to Prim, he instantly smiled. “I’ll call you later then,”

“I look forward to it,” she admitted, “And thank you, again for everything,”

“It’s nothing, I’m glad you’re okay.”

He watched her turn and walk over to a wheelbarrow and pitchfork that were leaning against the wall, concerned she was about to start doing a chore she shouldn’t because of her shoulder.

“Hey you’re not-“ he began, but she cut him off.

“The stalls aren’t going to clean themselves,” she retorted.

Oh, she was a stubborn one.

“No, no, you can’t do that, you’ll only end up hurting yourself more.”

She raised her eyebrows at him in a ‘well who the hell is going to do it then’ way, leaving him no other choice but to pluck the pitchfork from her hand.

“Kili!” he called over his shoulder, taking joy in the complaints spewing from his brother’s mouth when he realized what he’d been recruited to do.

“You’re not serious.”

“Incredibly.” Fili grinned at his brother, handing him a shovel.

————

#fili durin #fili x oc #modern au #dean o'gorman #fili imagine #fili x reader #fili #slow burn #wild horses #series #fili the hobbit #the hobbit #fili friday #also known as deano day #fili smut #fili fic #modern fili

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chaseatinydream · 4 years ago

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pirate king (23) || atz

“Yeosang-hyung!”

The scream that leaves your mouth is completely uncontrolled, the breath in your lungs had simply forced their way to your mouth, where your tongue had formed the words, and his name had torn itself from your lips.

“Yeosang-hyung!”

For an infinite second, everything fades into the background. The screams, the fighting still going on in the background, the clash of swords, nothing matters except the man lying quiet and still at your feet. You can’t move.

Blood pools on the ground, bright crimson soaking into the wood of the deck. Yeosang’s body is unmoving, bloody and broken and momentarily, a maelstrom of complete terror crashes through you, wiping every thought and sensation from your mind except for a single sentence.

He’s dead.

You sink to your knees in absolute shock, watching as the deep red of his life blood oozes from his wound, staining his brown shirt almost inky black, crawling over his back like a curse mark. Your heart stops with every gush of blood from his wounds.

He’d saved you.

Your fingers curl around the sleeve of his shirt, your forehead pressed against his shoulder blade.

He had protected you with his body.

You feel your body shaking erratically with every heaving breath you take.

He’d sacrificed his life for yours.

Your throat hurts, raw and stinging. You’re confused for a moment, until you realise that you’re screaming, again and again into his shoulder.

“I hate you.”

Those had been the last words you’d said to him. The last thing you had done to him was hurt him, wound him beyond your comprehension, and yet, he had still chosen to save you.

Something warm mixes with the tears on your cheeks as a heart wrenching scream of pain tears itself from your mouth. It caresses your face, a soft, gentle puff of air.

“Don’t cry…”

The voice is painfully similar to Yeosang’s and you immediately understand how Seonghwa must be going insane from the voices of his dead family in his ears, the two words have the complete opposite of their intended effect, and the second you hear his voice in your head, you’re sobbing uncontrollably, tears soaking into his shoulder.

Even in death, his warmth is a comfort, just like when he was alive.

“Look at me…”

You shake your head desperately, wailing as you squeeze your eyes shut tighter, past the tears, past the blood. Guilt wraps itself around your throat, forcing out every breath of air from your lungs in the form of hopeless cries that rent the air around it to shards. You feel as if someone has physically dug their fingers into your chest, slowly crushing your heart, and the pain is all to real.

Thump, thump, thump.

“Please… Chin Hae… Look at me…”

You finally submit to his plea, bowing over him as tears stream down your cheeks. Please, please, please, just make his voice stop.

“Chin Hae…”

Your heart screeches to a halt as you stare unblinkingly at his face, uncomprehending.

He’s smiling so softly at you, blood smeared across his cheek and lips, but his cloudy, somewhat glazed eyes are gazing unwavering into yours, as if he doesn’t want to let them go. And even bloodstained, bruised, and sickly pale from the loss of blood, he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve seen all your life.

“Yeosang!” Someone rushes to Yeosang’s side, but you barely notice. You’re too busy studying every feature on Yeosang’s face, from the slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes, the gentle slope of his nose, the softness of his cheeks, the blood splattered birthmark nestled right beneath his eye.

He’s breathing.

He’s here with you.

And he’s alive.

“Choi Chin Hae!” Someone smacks you across the face and you’re finally broken out of your reverie to look at the person calling your name, it’s your master, and he looks furious with you. “Your patient is dying! Snap out of it!”

Terror and determination swarms through you as you snap back to reality, eyes narrowing and you force yourself to maintain some facade of calm. Right, right, right. You need to get your shit together, or else Yeosang will bleed out and die in a matter of minutes and it’ll be all your fault.

Focus!

You and San spring into work like the cogs of a well oiled machine, moving to tend to the different gunshots. You take the one closer to his shoulder blade, the musket ball having torn clean through the flesh of his shoulder but missing his carotid artery, blood is seeping from the wound and not pumping from it, no major artery must have been hit.

You desperately want to thank every god you know for this, but you have no time at the moment. Every fibre of your being is concentrated on saving Yeosang’s life, and you move like a man possessed, reaching and preparing alcohol compresses, trying to stem the blood flow.

Every bandage is soaked red.

Yeosang watches you work quietly, eyes still clouded over with pain and blood loss, the occasional whimper escaping him as you and San try to stop his bleeding. His skin is starting to fall in temperature, becoming cold and clammy, and when you take his pulse for the third time, the beat fluttering weakly like a caged bird under your fingertips, it’s much too rapid for someone bleeding out on the ground.

Terror grips at you.

You’re losing him.

“Chin Hae…” Fingers reach for yours and you take them desperately, squeezing back. His eyes trail your face and his lips move soundlessly, as if trying to say something to you. You tilt your head so his mouth is right at your ear, eyes mere inches from each other.

“Yeah?” A sob leaves your mouth, but you try to keep your voice steady. Yeosang stares at you, eyes never leaving yours, but he doesn’t seem to be able to see you anymore, gazing blankly at the same spot the whole time. The hand around your heart squeezes a little harder and you find it hard to breathe.

“I’m sorry…” He whispers, and suddenly you want to scream and cry at the same time because of this stupidly selfless man, who even almost at his deathbed is still apologizing to you, thinking that you’re still upset with him. His voice is nothing above a weak breath. “I’m deeply sorry that I betrayed your trust like that…”

You shake your head furiously, fresh tears streaming from your eyes. “I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you. It was my fault. I should have tried to understand you, tried to-”

“If I don’t make it…” He rasps quietly, and to your horror, you feel the grip on your fingers weakening. His eyes are starting to fade, the soft, deep brown closing. “Beneath my bed… In captain’s cabin… there is…”

Then his fingers lose their grip on yours, falling to the ground with a thud.

The sound reverberates in your ears like a gunshot.

Sheer, undiluted panic and forced calm rage a war in your mind. You firmly shove the part of your brain that is screaming in circles in your mid and shove it into the bilge basement, your trembling fingers reaching for his neck.

For a second, cold creeps over you when you feel nothing under your fingertips. Just as you’re about to scream and tear yourself to pieces, there’s a weak flutter.

Joy bursts in you, but you have no time to celebrate.

“He’s going into shock. We’re losing him.” The words sound foreign on your tongue as you turn to your master, fear etched in every line on your face. San continues pressing on his two musket wounds, one with the lead shot still embedded inside for fear of causing more bleeding, but you can see his mind furiously searching for a solution to save his friend.

Then he looks at you seriously, straight in the eye. “Get me a long stick.”

Your heart drops in your chest as you realise what he intends to do. “Master, that’s not safe-”

“I said,” San repeats very slowly, as if you didn’t hear him the first time, “get me a long stick.”

His voice is a command. You can’t refuse it.

Leaping to your feet, you search the area around you desperately. The fight is everywhere, but the pirates are forcing the soldiers to surrender their weapons… or die. You spot a wooden spear clattering to the ground as a soldier falls to his knees, blood gushing from his eye, but you have no time to care about him. You grab the weapon and rush back to your master, whose eyes are closed in concentration.

“Master?” You ask, kneeling beside him, the spear in your hands. The two of you have practiced this drill so many times, but you would have never thought you would ever do one of such magnitude in your lifetime.

“When his breathing returns to normal, stop me immediately.” San instructs you quietly, and without waiting for you to reply, he reaches forward and places his hands on Yeosang’s back.

Panic swallows you for a moment. Your master is walking a tightrope as fine as a sewing thread, with his very life dangling in the balance. What San is attempting to perform is a limited energy transfer, in which he connects the energies between his and Yeosang’s bodies, allowing his own energy to flow into Yeosang’s and heal his most dire of wounds.

But that isn’t the dangerous part.

With the state Yeosang’s body is in, Yeosang will unconsciously struggle to take every bit of San’s energy as possible to heal himself, even if he doesn’t want to do such a thing. Your master’s reserve store of energy will run out, and Yeosang will tap into San’s life source itself, essentially draining the healer of every bit of life.

In the best case scenario, your master will be in a catatonic state for the rest of his life.

In the worst case scenario, his body will be reduced to a pile of smoking ashes.

As your master is more experienced with controlling the flow of his energy to Yeosang’s, he’s going to be the one doing the operation. It’s your job to end it before your master is permanently damaged.

Fear lodges in your belly as you feel the weight of your responsibility settling on your shoulders.

You watch with bated breath as San inhales deeply, keeping his breathing in control as he searches for Yeosang’s soul, reaching for his. You can’t see this happening, but you know in theory what is going on, and it scares you that you may lose both your master and Yeosang in this attempt.

Suddenly, San’s eyes snap open. He looks straight ahead blankly, barely seeming to notice you, his gaze completely focused on Yeosang. You watch the bleeding with desperate intent, willing with all your mind for the flow of blood to slow, for him to breathe steadily once again, the prayer echoing over and over in your head like a mantra.

Please. Please. Please.

Whether it’s been seconds or an infinity, you don’t know, but you finally see the stream of crimson turn into a gentle flow, then it merely seeps from his wounds, and his chest starts to rise and fall once more.

An indescribable joy wells up in you, it blooms in your chest like a sunflower, relief tugging at you.

You turn to tell your master, but then you see San’s face pale and drawn, cold sweat trickling down his forehead. His breathing is hard and uneven, and to your horror, his eyes are glazed over with exhaustion.

There isn’t a second to spare.

Using the wooden spear, you knock your master’s hands away from Yeosang’s body and San slumps to the ground, heaving for air. He blinks blankly at you, as if completely disconnected from the world, but he’s alive, Yeosang is alive, the crew is safe and well.

That’s all that matters to you.

“You did it, master!” You sniff, wiping the tears from your eyes as you tell your master of his feat. “You saved Yeosang-hyung.”

But San’s grim words strip every bit of relief you feel.

“Only for now.”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yeosang #yunho #san #mingi #jongho #wooyoung #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; pirate king #w; fanfiction

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corishadowfang · 3 years ago

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Forest Child - Original Fiction Big Bang

My piece for @originalfictionbigbang! I was paired with @cecilsstorycorner, and they created an amazing illustration for the story; visit their blog to check it out! (Link)

Summary: Nobody goes into the Forest at the edge of town. People say you’ll go missing if you do--that’s what happened to Mary’s Uncle Ian, after all. But after briefly entering the Forest on a dare from some friends, she realizes there might be more to it than she thought.

Trigger Warnings: Child abuse as a major story theme; some instances of body horror and general horror elements; brief instance of alcohol-induced anger towards the end. If you think these will be triggering, then please stay safe and skip this one.

Story is under the cut. Or, if you’d prefer, you can read it on the Google doc here.

“Look at this!”

Mary, much like the other students near her, started at the sudden exclamation. She’d been drawing, absorbed in trying to get a bird’s wings just right, and hadn’t even noticed one of her classmates excitedly bouncing into the room with something cupped in his hands. Now the boy proudly presented the item—a small stone—to a group of surprised fifth graders.

One snorted. “That’s just a rock, Blake. What’d you do, pick it up during recess?”

“It’s not just a rock,” Blake protested. “Look closer.”

Several of her classmates glanced at each other, as if deciding whether or not it was worth risking the embarrassment. Mary found she didn’t really care much about the risk, and so she leaned forward, squinting a little. “Is it glowing?”

Blake beamed. “Yeah! It’s easier to see if it’s dark.”

Someone shouted, “Get the lights!”

The student nearest the door flicked the lights off, and suddenly everyone was crowding closely around Blake and his find. The rock glowed a very faint purple, the color spreading out across Blake’s hands.

Mary’s fingers itched to draw, and she scooped her sketchbook into her hands, fumbling for a purple pencil.

“Where’d you get it?” someone asked.

“From my brother,” Blake said, and then, in a conspiratorial whisper, “and he found it in the Forest.”

Mary’s pencil skittered across the page. “He actually went in?”

“Uh-huh! He wouldn’t tell me how far, though. Said he saw these weird glowing lights and felt like they were drawing him closer. Before he knew it, he was suddenly standing underneath eerily dark trees, with something moving in the undergrowth. Ran out of there as soon as he realized! The stone got caught in his shoe, so he gave it to me.”

“Right,” said one of their classmates. “I bet he just painted a rock with glow-in-the-dark paint.”

“It’s true!”

Mary asked, “Can I see it?”

Blake clutched the stone tightly, giving her an almost-suspicious look. After a few moments he relented, tipping the stone from his hand to hers.

Mary stared at it for several moments, running a finger over the stone and watching as the purple glow painted the tip. She scratched at the surface with a fingernail.

“Hey!”

“No paint’s coming off,” she said, and gave the stone back to Blake. “I think it’s real.”

“See?”

“I still think you’re lying,” one of their classmates said. When Blake opened his mouth to retort, she continued, “Or your brother’s lying. Nobody goes into the Forest.” She paused, then amended. “Well, nobody goes into the Forest and comes out. That’s why people keep disappearing around town, right?”

Blake opened his mouth, closed it, and then frowned thoughtfully. “Well,” he said slowly, “there’s one way to find out.”

A few moments of silence passed before someone hissed, “Dude, seriously?”

“You can’t really be thinking about going into the Forest, right?”

“If you go missing, do I get your stuff?”

“I’m serious,” Blake said. “I mean, come on! Hasn’t everyone thought about going in there at some point? You guys are just scared.”

Mary’s breath caught, and she clutched her sketchbook to her chest. The town was filled with stories of the Forest, most of them some degree of frightening, but the ones she most remembered were the ones told by her Uncle Ian, a man she mostly remembered for his soothing voice and exciting tales.

“Sometimes it just looks like a normal forest—maybe a little darker than average, but nothing out of the ordinary. But then—then you see these things at the edges. Great big, monstrous things that look like they’d tower over the trees if they stood upright. Birds with too many eyes, covered in glowing feathers. Things that might’ve been deer, at one point, but are so covered in moss and vines that they look more plant than animal. And the lights—those are what get you. Bright colored things that hop and bob and mesmerize anyone who stops to look. If you’re not careful, they can lead you into the woods without noticing. And then—bam! You’re trapped there. You become part of the Forest.”

“Is it real?”

“Well, see, lots of people around town don’t think it’s real. They think someone’s inside the Forest, doing something to make all those people disappear. But you and I? We know better.”

Before she really had time to consider what she was saying, she breathed, “Can I go, too?”

The class went quiet. “You?” one of her classmates asked. “Isn’t your dad, like, really strict?”

“I-I—well. We don’t have to tell him!”

“Getting rebellious, huh?”

“I-I’m not! I just—I just don’t want to worry him, that’s all.”

Blake snorted. “Sure,” he said, “you can come. Anyone can come. We’ll go to the Forest this Saturday around lunch. Anyone who’s not a chicken can meet up there.”

The lights flicked on.

Everyone whipped towards the front of the room.

Their teacher watched them with a skeptical look. “So,” she said dryly, “I hate to interrupt your weekend plans, but I have a class to teach. And besides that, none of you are allowed to go anywhere near the Forest unsupervised. It’s dangerous. I’m sure your parents have all told you this already.” She gave Mary a pointed look.

Mary shrank in her seat.

Blake tried, “But we just—”

“No buts,” their teacher interrupted. “If I hear any more of this, I’ll have to inform your parents. Clear?”

Mary caught her breath, and found herself blurting, “Please don’t.”

Someone murmured, “Knew she’d back out.”

Mary flushed.

Her teacher just gave her a long, tired look that, if Mary stared at it long enough, might’ve been read as sympathetic. Then she said, “Pull out the homework from last night.”

Class passed in the usual manner, but Mary found her mind drifting, a nervous, fearful excitement bubbling in her chest at the thought of stepping foot in the Forest. No one’s ever gone too far in, she thought. Nobody’s come back to talk about what’s in there. What if I’m the first? It could be like—like an adventure! I could draw pictures of all the strange things in there, and people would talk about it forever.

Maybe it’d help stop people from disappearing, too. Like Ian did.

The intercom came on, startling Mary out of her thoughts. “Good afternoon. Baseball practice has been cancelled tonight due to rain…”

The rush of students shoving things in their desks and packing their backpacks overrode the sound of the intercom. Their teacher shouted, “Wait until announcements are over!” to very little success.

Mary sat at her desk silently. She closed her sketchbook, slowly, ignoring the nervous tension ticking through her shoulders.

The announcements ended with, “Teachers may now dismiss their students.”

“Now you can go,” their teacher said. “And Mary?”

Mary looked up at her.

Her teacher sighed, looking resigned. “You know the drill.”

Mary nodded, tugging her backpack on.

“Sucks to be you,” someone said.

Another shouted, “See you later, Mary!”

Blake said, “Saturday, if you still want to come.”

Mary gave him a weak smile, but didn’t dare reply with her teacher still watching.

The school emptied and went quiet. Mary walked slowly to the office. She hated this part; hated the waiting, hated that she couldn’t go and play with her friends after school, hated the tension that built in her chest as she sat in those hard plastic chairs. But she knew Papa wanted to check on her grades, and make sure she made it home safely, and that he was really just worried about her wellbeing, and so she tolerated it, settling into one of the chairs to wait. She didn’t know what to draw, this time, but the conversation about the Forest was still buzzing through her skull, and so she found herself playing with one of her bird sketches, adding eyes and strange, curling plants.

Her homeroom teacher showed up a few minutes later, looking as tired and disgruntled as always. Mary gave her a weak smile and went quickly back to drawing.

The entryway doors opened.

Mary’s shoulders rose, just a little.

Papa looked intimidating, sometimes; she didn’t know if he meant to be, but he always had this serious, stern look on his face that made her wonder if she’d done something bad. He studied her carefully for a few moments and, seemingly satisfied with his findings, turned towards the teacher. “How was she today?”

Her teacher flattened her lips. “She was fine, Rick. As usual.” Her teacher seemed to hesitate a moment, and then continued, “She talked about going to visit the Forest with some friends—”

Mary sent her a panicked look.

“—but I put a stop to that and explained why it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Papa said nothing, but he did turn, slowly, to look at Mary.

She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I-I didn’t—we weren’t really going to—it’s just, Blake’s brother found this rock, and—”

“Thank you,” Papa said, curtly, and it took Mary a moment to realize he was talking to the teacher and not her. “I’ll make sure she understands not to go there.” He reached for Mary’s arm, grabbing it tightly as she tried not to flinch backwards. “Come on,” he said, dragging her to her feet. “It’s time to go home.”

“Rick,” Mary’s teacher called.

Papa paused.

“I don’t think these meetings are necessary anymore. Ian disappeared years ago. Mary hardly seems to remember it. It certainly hasn’t affected her grades or performance. What might affect her is being unable to spend time with friends outside of school.”

Papa didn’t answer for several long moments. “Thank you for the input,” he said, “but I’d like to keep up with this, for now.”

Mary’s teacher made a disgruntled noise. “I agreed to this as your friend, and out of concern for both of you, but Rick—I understand you’re still grieving, but you have to move on—”

“I’m fine,” Papa said, “and my daughter’s fine. We’ll keep up the meetings.” And then he was dragging Mary, again, out of the school and to the car.

Their town wasn’t particularly large; it had a few small convenience stores, the school, a gas station and a diner. Beyond the edge sat the Forest, equally small, but strangely separate from everything. Mary tried not to look at it, slipping her sketchbook slowly into her backpack. Papa didn’t say anything to her, but she could see the furrow of his eyebrows in the rearview mirror, and so she turned her head to look, firmly, out the window, and tried hard not to think about the pit in her stomach.

They pulled into the driveway too quickly, and Mary fiddled with her seatbelt, unbuckling it slowly.

Papa stepped out of the driver’s seat and slammed the door.

Mary flinched. She found herself caught between moving quicker and dawdling.

Papa decided for her, opening her door roughly and catching her arm; she’d just barely gotten free of the seatbelt when he dragged her free, corralling her up the stairs and into the house.

It was very quiet, for a while. Papa turned to look at her slowly, expression downturned, and Mary found herself desperately trying to fill the space. “Papa, I—”

“What have I told you?” Papa’s voice was low, rough, just on the edge of angry. “You don’t go to that Forest. You don’t even think about going. You understand?”

Papa’s grip was too tight around her arm. She pressed on his hand a little, trying, “Papa—”

Papa grabbed her other arm, his hands still too tight, and shook her roughly. “Do you understand?”

Mary swallowed and nodded.

“This is for your own safety. That Forest is dangerous.”

“I-I know, Papa.”

“You’d best remember it.” Papa let go, finally.

Mary didn’t rub at the handprints on her arms, instead holding her hands tightly at her side. Papa liked to keep her in his sight—wanted to make sure she never got into trouble—and she knew, if he was already mad, it’d be a bad idea to leave before she was dismissed.

His eyes softened, just a little, and the tension eased out of Mary’s shoulders. “Go change out of your school clothes,” he said, “then come down for dinner.”

She nodded, then hurtled down the hall to her room.

~*~

-Mary almost considered not going to the Forest on Saturday. Almost.

She didn’t want to make Papa worried—or get scolded again—but the Forest was still a fascinating subject, filled with mysteries she was aching to solve. Something inside her tugged her towards the tree line, and a part of her desperately wanted to follow that pull, even if it meant getting in trouble with Papa.

But she couldn’t just walk out the front door. She’d have to sneak out; Papa didn’t like her going anywhere without him.

She worried her lip, debating. He usually likes to come and check on me if I’ve been in my room for a while. Her door didn’t have a lock, so she couldn’t keep him out. Her eyes darted to her dresser. She slid off the bed, opening a drawer and pulling out some clothes. She shoved them underneath her comforter, arranging them as best she could to make it look like she was just sleeping underneath. It didn’t look much like her, but she hoped it would be enough that Papa wouldn’t notice she’d slipped out.

She hesitated before moving to her window. If I do this, she thought, then I’ll be disobeying Papa. If he finds out, I’ll get in a lot of trouble. She glanced nervously at the door. He doesn’t have to know, she decided. I won’t be in the Forest that long. Just long enough to try and see something cool.

Mary gripped the bottom of her window and worked it open. It made barely a sound, and she hesitated for just a moment longer, glancing uncertainly at the door. Then she grabbed her sketchbook and a pencil and slipped out the window.

Her feet hit the ground with a quiet thump. She stood there, eyes screwed shut, half waiting for someone to come by and yell at her. When they didn’t, she opened her eyes a little.

She was outside. She was outside, and Papa didn’t know, and no one was saying anything.

Mary just suppressed a giddy laugh, her shoulders shaking a little. She was out! She was going to the Forest! She was going to see things no one had seen before!

She just barely remembered to pull her window closed before darting away, sock feet slapping against the ground as she hurried towards the edge of town.

The other kids were waiting there already, hovering near the tree line. Mary lifted her free arm to wave, shouting, “Hey! Hey, wait for me!”

“We didn’t think you’d show up,” one of the kids said—Henry, she thought.

“Of course I was coming,” Mary said, skidding to a halt, lifting her chin and trying not to show her nervousness. “I want to see what’s in there, too!”

Blake snorted and turned towards the Forest. “So,” he said, “who’s going in first?”

All of them swiveled to stare into the darkness between the trees. They remained very quiet, and in the silence, Mary strained her ears, trying to see if she could hear something from within the trees. She caught no birdsong, no rustling of the undergrowth—nothing.

“I think Blake should go,” someone said.

“What?” Blake protested. “Why me?”

“Because it was your idea. What, too scared to go in now?”

“I am not! I just—I just think someone else should have the chance. You know, since I already have that cool stone.”

“Don’t be such a baby—”

“I’ll go.”

Mary hadn’t even entirely realized she’d spoken until the group turned to look at her. She clutched her sketchbook a little closer. “I’ll go,” she repeated, more firmly this time.

Blake recovered first, looking at the other kids and saying, “Hear that? She’ll go.” He turned to give her a scrutinizing look. “So?”

Mary turned back to the Forest. For a moment, it felt like it was just her and the trees, the group of students fading to background noise behind her. A breeze stirred the leaves and ruffled her clothes. The darkness stretched in front of her, deep and thick enough that she wondered if she’d feel it when she stepped inside.

Mary took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and took a step forward. Then another. Then another. She hesitantly stretched out a hand, and didn’t stop walking until her palm brushed rough bark.

Her hand rested against a normal-looking tree, the bark chipped and peeling away, a couple of bugs skittering out of holes in the wood.

Mary’s shoulders relaxed marginally. She turned back to the others, who were still watching warily from the Forest’s edge. “Come on!” She hurried into the trees.

The darkness deepened, and she slowed a little. She wondered if the trees were the ones blocking out the sunlight; she squinted at the tree tops, but couldn’t see well enough to tell. The darkness made her shiver, but she stuffed it down, calling, “Hey, why do you think there aren’t any animals here?”

“Don’t know,” Blake said, closer to her ear than she’d expected. She yelped and jumped, scrambling to keep her sketchbook from falling. Blake snorted; in the dim lighting, she could just barely make out a dryly amused expression. “But we need to find something cool.” He moved towards one of the trees, feeling around the trunk curiously.

“Isn’t coming in here enough?” one of the kids asked. “I mean, we all did it, right? It’ll be something to talk about at school.”

“No,” Blake insisted. “I want to find something else like my stone.” He reached up and tugged on a branch. It came free with a crack, and he stumbled, almost falling off the root he was standing on. “See anything weird about this?”

The kid leaned forward. “Dude, it’s just a normal branch.”

He tossed it aside. “There has to be something.”

The bushes rustled.

Mary jumped, whipping towards it. The leaves shifted, and for a moment, Mary thought she could see a flash of eyes. “Um. Guys?”

Blake and the others didn’t pay attention to her, moving towards some ferns and cautiously shifting through them.

The bushes rustled again. Hesitantly, Mary inched towards them.

The thing inside them moved. It flicked its attention to her, and for a moment, the creature seemed to glow, two sets of eyes blinking up at her.

Mary started backwards.

The thing disappeared into the undergrowth.

Mary braced herself against a tree.

A branch creaked overhead, and something whispered through Mary’s ears, more impression than sound, almost forming words that sounded like, What is it?

The whisper echoed with the rustling of another bush, with a brief flutter of bird wings overhead, or with the quiet creek of the trees:

What is it?

“Guys,” Mary asked, voice sounding unusually loud, “are you the ones saying that?”

“What are you talking about? Hey, do you think this leaf is glowing, or am I just imagining things?”

Humans, the whisper voice said again.

Humans.

Humans, danger.

Breaking, breaking, breaking—

Something landed overhead.

Mary whipped towards it, stumbling away from the tree.

A faintly-glowing bird perched on a branch. Flowers wove through its feathers and gathered on its back, leaves raising like plumes on its head. Its glowing eyes flickered as it leaned closer. It opened its beak, and the whisper-voice pressed, more insistent, into her mind, words a flurry of quiet trills and a ruffling of feathers: I know you.

Mary’s mouth opened and closed several times as she stared at the bird. It took her a moment to realize there had been confusion in the voice—the bird’s voice?—and that made her still.

A sharp crack sounded behind her. Blake yelped in alarm, then shouted, “Nope! That won’t work!”

The bird whipped towards the noise almost as quickly as Mary did. It let out an ear-splitting screech, and Mary rushed to cover her ears. The bird took flight, swooping low over the others’ heads, nearly brushing Blake’s hair.

A low rumble went through the Forest, shaking the ground. The trees suddenly seemed like they were leaning in, closer, closer, pressing until the branches dipped too low. The whole Forest suddenly came alive with noise, and between the rustling leaves, the buzzing, the hoof beats, Mary could barely make out something that sounded like words:

Breaking breaking breaking get out stop breaking leave go leave leave leave—

“What is that?” someone whispered.

Another turned and sprinted out of the Forest.

Blake didn’t move right away, standing frozen, staring blankly into the trees.

“Blake,” Mary hissed, starting towards him.

Something split from the shadows. It reared, dark, above Blake. Glowing patches seemed to ripple across its back, and its mouth stretched just a little too wide as it roared.

The sound shook Mary, and for a moment she wanted to clamp her hands over her ears, the pressure beating deep inside her mind. Her legs shook and she wondered, very suddenly, if she should’ve snuck out at all.

Blake seemed to break out of his stupor finally. He screamed, sprinting away from the strange, shadowy beast.

Mary’s legs moved without her conscious input; she turned and followed Blake, hurrying out of the Forest and breaking into the sunlight. She stumbled, then fell, losing her sketchbook upon impact. Her palms scraped the ground, tearing up grass and dirt. She scrambled back to her feet, and then started running again, and kept running until she could scramble back into her room’s window.

~*~

-Mary couldn’t get what she’d heard in the Forest out of her head. The rest of the day, she wandered around in a daze, a part of her half-focused on the creatures that had emerged to terrify her and her classmates, the rest focused on the strange words.

I know you.

“You’re distracted,” Papa said, and it started her out of her thoughts.

“I-I’m fine, Papa!” she said, forcing a grin.

“You should be focused on finishing your homework,” he said. His scowl deepened, and he said, “You should have finished that Friday night. Or earlier today, when you were in your room.”

“I-I know, Papa.” She leaned over the paper, but her mind drifted. She found it hard to focus on math equations when her mind still pounded with the words, over and over again. I know you, I know you, I know you—

“Papa,” she asked before she could think better of it, “what happened when Uncle Ian disappeared?”

Papa stiffened.

“I-I just—did he disappear because, um—” Because something in the Forest spoke to him? she wanted to ask, but couldn’t quite get the words to form.

“I’m not going to talk about him,” Papa said, voice harsh.

“I-I, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” She trailed off. “I just wanted to know.”

Papa was silent for a long moment. “Go finish your homework in your room.”

Mary knew better than to argue. She just nodded, scooping up her papers and scampering to her room.

She knew Papa would check on her, eventually, to find out whether or not she’d actually finished her homework. She tried to do it, but her attention kept slipping, flicking back to the window and the Forest, not quite visible, beyond.

She didn’t want to go back to the Forest. Not really. She was still curious about what was inside, but her adventure with her classmates had given her a scare. But—

(I know you.)

I left my sketchbook there, she thought. I should go back and get that, at least.

She didn’t acknowledge what would happen if Papa came to check on her and she wasn’t there. She just slid out her window, hurrying across the town in bare feet, trying not to worry too much about how dark it had gotten.

The Forest was just as dark and silent as always. She noticed a dark shape, pages fluttering a little, on the slope.

Mary hesitantly lifted her sketchbook. It’d sustained some wear and tear, the pages covered in dirt, the cover torn a little bit. Mary brushed off what she could, fingers gently running over the pages. She clutched it to her chest. I should get back, she thought, before Papa notices that I’m gone.

The Forest loomed in front of her, dark and imposing.

(I know you.)

Mary bit her lip. She shifted a little on her toes, glancing furtively down the hill. After a few long, agonizing moments, she took a few cautious steps towards the tree line. “Hello?” she asked, her voice coming out as more of a squeak. She cleared her throat, then tried again: “Hello? Is, um. Is anyone there?”

The trees creaked ominously, but nothing answered.

Mary fiddled with the edge of her sketchbook. Maybe whatever it was is mad, she thought, because we were breaking things.

After a few moments of debate, Mary murmured, “I’m sorry for breaking things. I won’t do it again. I just had a question.”

For a few moments, she didn’t think anything would answer. Then a low breeze stirred, and with it, a quiet, almost imperceptible murmur: Human human human back danger back they’re back they’re back.

“Why are you here?”

Mary jumped, whipping around, trying to figure out where the voice had come from. It didn’t sound entirely human; it felt almost as if the words had been pressed into her mind, formed between the low wind and the steady creaking of the trees. “Who are you? Are you that bird?”

The breeze picked up. Something flickered between the trees. “I have been called many things by many humans,” came the voice again, making Mary’s head ache faintly. “You would not understand most of them. Your people do not have a name for me.”

“Are—are you the Forest?”

The Forest didn’t answer.

Mary caught her voice. “You can talk,” she breathed. “Have you ever talked to anyone before? Nobody’s ever said anything about that!” She took a half-step forward, suddenly excited. “Is it because of magic? Can you—”

The wind picked up, blowing past her so strongly that it almost knocked her back. Something growled from the shadows. Danger, a cacophony of voices seemed to whisper. Breaking breaking breaking—

“I-I—” Mary’s voice caught in her throat, and she backed up a little, not quite leaving the edge of the trees. “I’m sorry. I d-didn’t mean—I won’t do it again.”

“Humans say many things,” the Forest said, “and rarely do they mean them.” The murmur quieted, fading to low chittering sounds, then silence.

Mary’s shoulders hunched a little, and she couldn’t help the guilt that bubbled in her chest. “I just had a question,” she murmured, “about something you said.”

The Forest didn’t speak, but she thought she might have heard the fluttering of wingbeats overhead.

Mary steeled herself and said, “Y-you—you said you knew me. B-but I’ve never been here. How?”

The Forest was silent so long that she didn’t think she’d get an answer. “I don’t know,” came the quiet response, like a whisper of a bug against her ear.

“Oh.” It was almost disappointing, and she felt a little silly for even trying to ask. “Okay.” She took a couple steps backwards. “I guess—that’s all I wanted to ask.” She started to leave, then paused. “I—I really am sorry. We just wanted to see if what we’d heard was true. Honest.”

The Forest didn’t respond this time.

Guilt flickered in her chest for a moment. I wouldn’t like it much, she thought, if someone hurt me.

(Papa never apologizes.)

The guilt solidified into something a little more solid and actionable. She squared her shoulders and, an idea forming in her mind, made her way back to town.

~*~

-Mary stood outside the Forest with her backpack slung over her shoulder, decked in her overalls and heavy boots and her coat. Papa hadn’t noticed her sneak out the window, and she hoped he wouldn’t come looking for her just yet. I won’t be long, she thought. I just need to do this.

The Forest was very, very quiet. Mary squinted, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t see more than a few feet into the trees. “Um. Hello?”

She waited a little while for a response, but when she didn’t get one, she let the backpack slip to the ground. She unzipped it and pulled out one of several water bottles, hesitating at the Forest’s edge. “Um. Is it okay if I come in?” When the Forest didn’t answer, she took a deep breath, and stepped forward.

Darkness shrouded her, and she blinked. The dim lighting made it difficult to see, but one hand reached out to brush the trunk of a nearby tree. She twisted the cap off the water bottle, opening it with a quiet crack. She poured the water onto the roots of the tree, humming a quiet song to herself as she tried to look further into the woods.

Something rustled behind her. She jumped, then held her breath, but nothing moved again.

She finished pouring the water and darted back into the sunlight. Her chest rattled with a few deep, shaky breaths. After a few moments she bent, grabbing the next water bottle and hurrying into the Forest.

She’d made it through three bottles and was well onto the fourth when that same strange impression of a voice asked, “What are you doing?”

Mary was so startled that she lost her hold on the water bottle. She tumbled backwards with a quiet oomph!

Things stirred inside the trees; vague shapes she couldn’t identify, tall gangly things that looked like they were bent out of shape, the gleam of eyes that were clustered too close together for comfort, the twitching of tree branches that seemed to move all on their own.

Mary took a shuddering breath. Her hands shook a little, but she managed to keep her voice steady as she said, “Watering you.”

She didn’t think she was going to get a response for a moment. Then the voice came again, brushing around her like a breeze: “Why?”

“Be-because! Um. Because I want to make up for the other day.” She stood and brushed off her overalls. The bottle was empty, now, so she stuck it underneath her arm and listened to it crinkle.

“I did not require reparations,” the Forest said, in the hurried footsteps of animals, in the quiet whisper of the leaves.

“Oh.” Mary bit her lip. “Well, I’m going to keep watering you, anyways. Is that okay?”

The Forest didn’t answer.

Mary nodded decisively. “Okay. I’m going to get more water. Um, please don’t do anything to me?” She started back towards the Forest’s entrance, then paused. “Oh! Um, by the way. My name’s Mary.”

~*~

-It became a routine, of sorts.

Mary didn’t know how much she owed the Forest—wasn’t sure if she’d repaid it after giving it a few water bottles—and so made a game out of bringing it things she thought it might be able to use. She planted some seeds, near the edge; stole bird food out of the feeder; brought table scraps for some of the animals. She made sure to stay close to the Forest’s edges, always wary of going too far. (Of going missing, and of no one coming to find her. She wondered if Papa would grieve like he did for Ian. She wondered what that would look like, with no one else around.)

It was fun, almost; it felt like she was getting away with something exciting and new. Papa would pick her up after school, and she’d wait a while, then duck out the window and run to the Forest, some new item stuck in her bag, ready to see if it was something that it would like.

The Forest didn’t really say anything, but that was alright; Mary had plenty of words for the both of them, and would often talk to herself—as much to keep her nerves down as to explain things.

“Kevin said he could fit three whole golf balls in his mouth, but I know he’s lying because his mom would yell at him for putting even one in.”

“I found a feather today! I think it was from a blue jay, but I didn’t see the bird. See, see, I put it in my hair.”

“Kathrine says that you can keep frogs as pets. I want one, but Papa says that we can’t have pets.”

A breeze brushed across the back of her neck. “Why do you keep coming back?”

She stiffened, her hands twisted in the grass as she tried to plant some flower seeds. “Huh?”

Lights blinked faintly in the darkness. Something moved a little, still too coated in shadow to accurately make out. “Most humans stay away. Why do you return?”

Mary fidgeted with her pants. She rocked back on her heels, careful not to sit. “Do you not want me to?”

A long, long pause, before the Forest answered, “You do not do harm. You can stay.”

Mary grinned, and surprised herself with her excitement when she chirped, “Okay!”

An animal (a deer?) started, jumping away into the undergrowth. A couple of birds took flight, letting out odd, tinny cries. “But you did not answer. Why do you return?”

“O-oh. Um.” She worried her lip, suddenly feeling very much like she had done something wrong, somewhere, and couldn’t quite figure out what it was. “Well. It’s. Um.” She shrugged, looking at her feet. “I just want to,” she finished quietly.

When the Forest didn’t respond, she hurried to say, “Um! I like—I think you’re very cool! And, uh, and I still owe you for—for what happened. And—and you listen.” She trailed off, hands wrapped around her legs.

For a few moments, nothing moved. Mary wondered if she should start heading back; time always moved strangely in the Forest, and she found she could end up staying here for hours instead of minutes, if she wasn’t careful. (Papa had almost caught her climbing in her window, once, and she’d sat on her bed frozen, expecting to be scolded, or to find her window locked from the outside, or—

Papa had never said anything, but she hadn’t gone out for a few days, to be safe.)

A bright glow caught her attention.

One of the strange birds had hopped down from its perch. It ruffled its feathers, bouncing closer, head tilted towards one side.

Mary caught her breath and held it.

The bird moved just a little bit closer.

Mary, hesitantly, reached out to pet it.

Its feathers were unusually soft—softer even than the blankets that were piled on the couch at home. Up close, she could tell that the bird had what looked like flowers twined through its down, long stems twirling round and round its body. Mary fingered one of them, but didn’t pull, gently running one thumb over a petal. “I need my sketchbook,” she breathed, and got up so quickly that she startled the bird into flight. “Um! I’ll be back!”

Her cheeks ached from grinning as she sprinted down the slope.

~*~

-“Hey, Mary, I’m having a birthday party this weekend,” Helen said, coming up to her with a grin.

“A birthday party?”

“Yeah! You should come.”

Mary’s grin faltered a little. “Oh. Um. Papa doesn’t usually like me going places without him.” But I go to the Forest, don’t I? She tried not to think about Blake or the others, sitting not that far from her. “But maybe I can ask!”

Helen nodded, appeased, and Mary tried to ignore the nervous excitement buzzing in her stomach. Maybe Papa could come, she thought. Then he wouldn’t have to worry, and I could still go and hang out with my friends.

When Papa came to pick her up after school, she asked, “Hey, Papa? Helen’s having a birthday party this weekend.”

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy that.”

“She invited me to come. Can I go?”

Papa studied her for several long, agonizing moments. “You’ll have homework to do,” he said carefully.

“I’ll get it all done Friday night!”

“You never get it done that early.”

“But I will! You can watch me. Or, or you could come to the party, too. I won’t get into any trouble, Papa. I promise.”

“You’re a child, Mary. Trouble is all children get into.” He shook his head. “No. I don’t think you should go.”

“Come on, Papa, please. I never get to hang out with my friends.”

“You spend time with them at school.” Papa grabbed her arm, roughly, and dragged her to the car. “You can go when you’re older.”

“How much older?”

Papa didn’t say anything.

“I really won’t get into trouble,” Mary said, something tightening in her chest. She didn’t know why this bothered her so much, but she found herself pressing, “It could even just be for a few moments! I just want to—”

“No, Mary. I want you safe. Where I can see you. This discussion is over.”

“Everyone else gets to hang out with their friends.”

“You aren’t everyone else. I don’t know why any responsible parent would let their kids run around unsupervised—not when so many people go missing.”

Before Mary had really had time to think about what she was saying, she muttered, “Just because Uncle Ian disappeared—”

“Don’t talk about him!” Papa roared.

Mary shrank. Her heart thundered in her chest. Very suddenly, she was aware of the fact that they were still in the school parking lot, and that people had stopped to stare at Papa’s outburst.

Papa seemed to realize this, too, because his attention swept around the observers. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “You’re not going,” he growled. “That’s final. I don’t know why you’re putting up such a protest. It’s unreasonable.”

All she could do was nod, even as something tightened in her chest.

“Get in the car.”

I don’t want to, some part of her thought desperately, but she listened, anyways, sliding into the front seat and trying not to hunch her shoulders.

Papa got into the driver’s seat. He started the car, and they pulled away from the school, the worried faces of Mary’s classmates disappearing behind her.

Something welled in Mary’s chest and clogged her throat, but she bit her lip and shoved it down, some part of her understanding that crying would probably make Papa angrier right now.

“I’m doing this to keep you safe,” Papa said, breaking the silence. “You understand that, right? I can’t risk you disappearing like—like others.” He stumbled over the words, and his voice was strained, like he was trying hard to keep it level.

“I-I know, Papa.” Her voice cracked, a little, and she didn’t quite dare look at Papa to see how he reacted.

Papa didn’t say anything more—not even when they got home—and Mary hurried to her room, shutting the door.

She hadn’t even had half a second to think about what she was doing before she was scrambling out her window. Running to the Forest was almost second nature, now, and she found herself sprinting up the grassy slope before she’d really had time to think about it. Her eyes burned, and her vision blurred, a little, as she hurtled between the trees. She nearly collided with a sturdy trunk; her hands flew out to brace herself against it, and she just stood there for a few moments, shaking, tears flowing down her cheeks. She stayed quiet, scrubbing at her eyes as she tried to get the tears to stop. It’s stupid, she thought. I shouldn’t be so upset. It’s just a birthday party.

“Your face is wet.”

Mary started, despite herself. She pulled away from the tree. “Y-yeah.”

“Why?”

Mary rubbed her eyes fiercely. “B-because I’m crying.”

“Crying?” The Forest’s voice trailed off into a breeze, the word picked up by various creatures inside. After a few moments, an answering murmur came: sad upset overwhelmed too much emotion—

“You are hurt.” It wasn’t a question, and there was something almost angry underneath it.

Mary flinched backwards, because for a moment all she could hear was Papa’s voice, and she hadn’t come here because she wanted to be yelled at again— “Don’t be angry. Please.”

The whole Forest seemed to suddenly go quiet. “You are hurt,” the Forest repeated, and this time it sounded vaguely uncertain, “because of anger?”

“I’m not hurt,” Mary said stubbornly. “It’s stupid.”

“Mary,” the Forest said, and for a brief, fleeting moment, she was reminded of Uncle Ian, gently soothing her after she’d fallen and scraped a knee, just before picking her up to tell her a story.

(Papa had told her stories too, once. When had that stopped?)

When the Forest spoke again, its voice was back to normal, and she could believe she’d imagined the whole thing. “It is understandable,” the Forest said. “Humans often hurt others when they are angry.”

“H-he—he just wants to keep me safe. He’s just worried.”

“But you are still hurt.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Mary said quickly. “I just—I don’t want to think about it.”

The Forest went silent again.

Mary stayed silent, pressed against a tree, until something fluttered near her foot. She blinked, lifting her head.

A bird had fluttered closer. Its faintly-glowing feathers illuminated the ground around her.

Something shifted in the undergrowth. A creature that vaguely resembled a fox emerged from the bush, lifting its head to press against her hand. Mary’s fingers curled into the animal’s fur, and it curled up against her. Mary giggled, the sound wet, as more animals emerged, gently pressing against her. “Thank you.”

A low hum went through the Forest as a response.

~*~

-The Forest asked, “Why do you talk to me?”

Mary stopped pouring the water for a moment, startled by the unexpected question. “I, um. Do you not want me to?”

The nearest tree creaked. “It is simply strange. Humans do not often talk to me.”

She wasn’t sure how to take that—as a reprimand, as a statement, as a question. She tried to answer, anyways. “Well, um. It’s because I like having someone to talk to.”

“You do not have humans to talk to?”

“I do!” she hurried to say. “I have Papa, and the kids at school, and lots of other people! But, um. They maybe don’t listen as well? But it’s okay! I know they’re just busy and have lots of other things to worry about and I’m just a kid who makes them worry and causes trouble and—” She paused for breath, and found she wasn’t sure how else she could continue, so she just fell silent instead.

The Forest waited.

Mary whispered, “It’s lonely, sometimes.”

The trees creaked. The wind echoed between them, making the whole Forest sound strangely hollow.

Mary asked, “Is it lonely for you, too?”

Birds fluttered overhead; vines twisted a little around the nearest tree trunk. “I have never talked to anyone before.”

“Is it because of the stories? Because if it’s the stories, then—then I can make them stop!”

A wingbeat fluttered near her ear. “I do not know the stories,” it answered. “I have never had need to talk to anyone before.”

“Oh. How come?”

“Everything within my borders is connected. The trees,” the trunks leaned forward, “the birds,” one rushed overhead, “the stones,” a couple pebbles bounced down the path. “I can see, and hear, and feel everything that is connected to me.”

“Even me?”

“No. You are not a part of the Forest.”

Mary tried not to think about how strangely empty that made her feel. “But you know I’m here. You can hear me.”

“Yes. Through the ears of the birds, and the mice, and the deer. I can see you through the eyes of the ants and the rabbits and things humans have no name for. I can speak through the voices of the wind, and the leaves, and the stones, and you will hear because of your presence within my boundaries. I am many and one at once; I have no need to talk to others.”

“Oh.” Mary scratched a finger in the dirt. “But, um. Then. Um.”

The Forest waited, silent save for a bird call, somewhere in the distance.

Mary chewed her lip, then took a deep breath. “There are stories about people disappearing when they come here. I thought maybe, um—maybe you were taking people because you were lonely? But if you don’t need to speak to anyone—and it’s silly, anyways, I’m being dumb, because if people disappeared then you would’ve taken me and Blake and it’s just a silly superstition, anyways.”

Something soft brushed against Mary’s legs; when she turned, it had already disappeared, eyes gleaming in the undergrowth. “Sometimes,” the Forest said, “things from the Outside enter my boundaries.”

Mary cocked her head.

“Some find their way out. Others stay, and become a part of the Forest.”

“Become a part of you?”

“Yes.”

“But, um, how does that—how does that work? Do they build homes here? But then why don’t they come back to see their families? Dad had a friend—he thought he came here. They never found him.”

“No,” the Forest answered, in a long burst of wind that was more like a sigh. “You do not understand. They become a part of the Forest.”

Mary frowned.

“I can show you.”

Some warning rang in the back of Mary’s mind, then; some instinct that told her that she should leave, that she would not like whatever she was about to see. But she didn’t move, her legs too stiff, her eyes wide as she stared into the too-dark depths of the Forest.

The undergrowth rustled and shifted. A nearby tree creaked and cracked, loudly, and it took Mary a moment to realize it was turning, the roots tugging free of the ground and shifting. Small lights flickered from the grass and popped around the tree’s trunk. A large, bulbous growth had formed on the side of the tree, half-covered in bark and moss; the layers peeled back slowly with a cracking, snapping sound to reveal what lay underneath.

The thing might’ve been human, once. It looked vaguely human-shaped. The arms were twisted above its head, almost completely subsumed by the trunk. A large branch curled through one shoulder, sprouting several large, faintly glowing flowers. The legs had elongated into something that almost resembled roots, toes breaking through shoes that had half-decayed. Moss patterned the lower portion of the person’s face like a beard. Its eyes were half-lidded, glowing white and pupil-less in the dark.

A jumble of emotions Mary couldn’t quite parse apart fluttered in her chest.

Then the maybe-person’s mouth moved, and spoke in a voice that rasped with disuse. “This is what I mean,” it said, and the words seemed to be echoed by the birds, by the leaves, by every single thing around them until Mary felt too hemmed-in. “They are transformed by the Forest. They become a part of me.”

Suddenly it felt like the unnatural darkness of the Forest had lifted, and Mary couldn’t help gaping. Each tree seemed to have something else attached to it—a deer skeleton, threaded through with vines, or a fox that still seemed mostly alive but was covered in mushrooms, or nothing more than a vague face that had been trapped in the hollow wood. The mouse that skittered across the ground carried fungus on its back; the deer that pranced, just in view, had antlers that had twisted out of shape, greenery growing along its chin and neck, legs too long and too many. A many-eyed thing blinked at her, long claws trailing through the undergrowth.

Mary didn’t know when she’d surged to her feet, nor when she’d started running, nor when her breath had gotten caught in her throat. All she knew was that she needed to get out, out, out, back to light and safety and away from that thing in the tree—

She burst into daylight, tripped, and fell, skidding across the grass and scuffing her palms. She lay there a few moments, shivering, hiccupping, waiting for something to step out of the Forest and follow her.

Nothing did. When Mary pushed herself onto her knees, the Forest was as silent as always.

~*~

-The man in the tree wouldn’t stop staring at her.

She saw it whenever she blinked, or looked in a mirror, or caught something out of the corner of her eye. She couldn’t stop seeing it, those glowing eyes boring deeply into hers. It made her chest clench, and her breath shuddered.

“Mary,” one of her teachers said, voice just on the edge of concern, “are you doing alright?” Mary looked at her teacher, and for a moment, she thought his eyes were glowing. She blinked, and it was gone.

(I know what happened to the missing people.)

Mary forced a smile and said, “Fine!”

“I can call your father. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind picking you up if you’re not feeling well—”

“No!” Mary took a deep breath, then continued, “I’m fine. I don’t need to worry him.”

The teacher didn’t look convinced, but he let it go.

The day passed in a haze. One moment, she was sitting in class, staring at a worksheet. The next, the end of day announcements came on, and she was wandering down the hall towards the office.

Papa came to pick her up and speak to her homeroom teacher. She couldn’t really focus on what they were saying; she kept staring at Papa, wondering if she should tell him. (I know what happened to Uncle Ian.)

Papa tugged her towards the car, and she didn’t protest, allowing him to usher her into the seat. Ask, a part of her whispered. Ask me what’s wrong. Please. I need to talk about it.

Don’t ask, another part of her hissed. I can’t do it. I can’t say anything. I don’t want you to be mad at me.

She didn’t even realize how silent the ride home had been until they pulled into the driveway. Papa pulled her, roughly, from her seat and dragged her into the house. He shut the door, but didn’t let go of her arm.

Oh, she thought. He’s noticed. He’s going to ask now.

“Mary,” he said, and for the first time she noticed how hard he was working his jaw, and how harsh his voice came out. “One of my coworkers said they saw you running out of the Forest yesterday.”

Mary’s heart dropped like a rock into her stomach. That’s not what I wanted to talk about, she thought, desperate. That’s not how I wanted this conversation to go.

“What did I tell you,” Papa asked, “about going to the Forest?”

Mary knew she was supposed to say something, here, but she froze, Papa’s image overlapping with that of the man in the tree.

“I told you,” Papa growled, “not to go back there.” His voice lifted, rising to an almost hysterical pitch. “I told you not to go to the Forest! You could get hurt! Do you want to disappear like all those others? Is that what you want? To disappear and leave me alone?” He shook her, roughly, and her head spun.

Maybe it was the disorientation, or Papa’s words, or the desperate attempt to get attention off her. Maybe she just didn’t know how to keep it in anymore, because she blurted, “I know what happened to Uncle Ian.”

Papa suddenly went very, very still.

“H-he—the Forest—it’s magic. He became a part of it. He’s still there.” Mary looked at Papa desperately. “I’m sorry.”

Papa didn’t move for several long, long moments. When he did, it was to hit her, sharply, across the side of her face. Mary would’ve fallen, had Papa not still had such a harsh hold on her. “Don’t talk about Ian,” he shouted, and he hit her again. “He made his own choices. It’s his own fault he’s gone.” And again. “I won’t let you make the same mistakes.” And again. He was crying, now, his voice near hysterical. “I’m doing this for your own good.” He hit her again. “Don’t go back to the Forest. Don’t go back there!”

“Papa—” Her head throbbed. She was crying too, she thought, but her world was spinning, and she was having trouble focusing. “Papa, please—”

She woke up on the floor, with the house dark, and Papa gone.

~*~

-Mary hadn’t intended to go back to the Forest. Not really; not after seeing—

Eyes glowing, moss coating its chin, Mary wondering desperately if this was how the Forest knew her—

But she was tired, and lonely, and hurt, and she no longer knew where else to go.

The route to the Forest seemed longer than before. She wondered, absently, if Papa would notice that she left and come after her.

(Did it matter, if she didn’t come back?)

Mary dragged herself up the slope; she shook, a little, her heart thundering in her chest. She pulled herself inside the tree line, but didn’t make it very far before she collapsed, curling up against the trunk of the tree.

The Forest was silent. That was good; Mary wasn’t sure what she would’ve done if something had come to see her.

She stayed curled against the tree, shaking and silent, for a long time. “Is Uncle Ian here?” she whispered.

The Forest didn’t respond, save for a quiet wind that, if she listened closely, she thought might’ve whispered Ian’s name.

“It’s just—he went missing. Like a lot of people. Him and Papa were really close. They used to tell me stories—Ian was really fascinated about the Forest, you know. But then he disappeared, and Papa stopped telling stories.” Mary pulled her knees to her chest, but it couldn’t quite stop her shaking. “Why?” she whispered. “Why do you take people, and—and—” She couldn’t quite bring herself to say the words; she didn’t know what she might’ve said if she did. “Can you let them go?” Mary asked instead. “I-if Uncle Ian were—if he came back, then maybe Papa would change back, too. Maybe he’d stop—” She broke off, a fractured part of her brushing against another thought she didn’t really want to have. “Please let him go. Please.”

The Forest was silent for a long moment before something gentle brushed her shoulder. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“They are interconnected to my magic. They are part of the greater consciousness. I do not know if their consciousnesses can be unwound.”

“Oh.” Mary leaned heavily against the tree. “Do you think,” she asked tiredly, “I could become part of it, too?”

The Forest went still.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “Papa’s always angry or worried or—he’s not happy. A-and I don’t—he scares me. I don’t want him to scare me, because I know he loves me, but he does, and it’s—! And I keep thinking about the—the person in the tree, and I can’t sleep, and Papa won’t listen because he’s just mad that I went into the Forest, and I’m tired! I don’t want to go back, and I don’t want to think about—about what happened to Uncle Ian, and I don’t want to be alone anymore.” She didn’t know when she’d started crying, but once it started, she couldn’t stop. She shook and heaved, great shuddering sobs rattling her chest and she pressed herself against the tree trunk. “If I disappear into the Forest,” she whispered, “then no one would mind. Papa would be sad for a while, but then he wouldn’t have anything to worry about anymore.” Her words died out slowly, and she just sat there, a heavy sense of exhaustion weighing down on her chest.

The silence went on for a little longer. Then, in a voice so quiet she might not have heard it, had it not been magic: “I hurt you.”

Mary curled up tighter.

“I hurt you,” the voice repeated, and it sounded so strangely human that Mary couldn’t help thinking about the person in the tree again. “I am sorry. I am sorry, I did not mean—I only wanted to explain—I should not have showed you that.”

Mary shrugged, shoulder scraping the bark. She winced, but didn’t move away.

“If I hurt you,” the Forest asked, “why did you come back?”

Mary didn’t know how to answer that for a long moment. “Papa hurts me, too. But he does it because he cares. I—I know you didn’t mean it.”

“That does not make it okay.”

Why do you sound so human now? Mary wanted to ask, but didn’t, almost afraid of the answer.

(A part of her wondered if it was because of the people who were a part of the Forest’s consciousness; if they gave the Forest a way to understand what humans were like. She wished it had worked a little sooner.)

“What can I do?” the Forest asked, the trees creaking.

“Just let me stay here. Please?”

The Forest didn’t respond, and Mary took that as an affirmative. She stayed, curled against the trunk of a tree, until faint sunlight started to peek through the tree line.

She knew she should leave, then. She didn’t want to.

(Didn’t want to go back. Didn’t want to stay. Didn’t know what she really wanted anymore.)

Eventually Mary stood, her legs stiff. She hesitated just inside the tree line. A part of her thought of turning and running deeper; going so deep that she’d be lost in the Forest forever.

(She wondered if that was the reason so many people went missing; if they had just gotten so tired of living in the town that they’d decided leaving for the Forest was better.)

After a few long moments of deliberation, she took a step back into the sunlight.

~*~

-Mary made it back to her room as the sun was coming up, tumbling into her bed and falling asleep almost as soon as she’d hit her pillow. Papa came to wake her up barely a moment later. He didn’t say anything; he just ushered her along, shoving her school clothes at her, driving her to school in silence.

(Mary didn’t want to go, but she didn’t want to stay. The car felt suffocating with its silence, and she practically held her breath until they reached the school building.)

The whole day seemed to pass in a sleep-deprived haze, but that was alright; it meant she didn’t have to think about Papa so much, and about his reaction and what it meant.

But she did think about the Forest, her mind twisting in useless circles as she tried to make sense of her feelings.

(She liked the Forest. She liked that it listened, and she liked the mystery, even if it scared her. But she didn’t like that it took people, and that they ended up like the thing in the tree, and that maybe there were other people out there like Papa who—

But the Forest had been upset to find out it had hurt her, and it had apologized, so maybe—

Papa never apologized.)

She hiked back out to the Forest after school, tired but determined, and set foot into the tree line with a mission in mind.

The Forest spoke, much more quickly than she’d anticipated, the ferns lifting to brush her legs, lights flaring in the darkness. “You’re back.”

“Y-yeah.”

“You did not have to come,” it said, “if I made you distressed.”

“I-I know,” she said. “I wanted to.”

The Forest didn’t say anything to that, and Mary gathered herself, trying to find the words. “What is it like,” she asked finally, “deeper inside?”

The Forest was silent for several long, long moments. “Are you sure you wish to see?”

Mary steeled herself. “Yes. I want to know if—if there’s anything—I just need to know.”

“I hurt you last time. I do not wish to hurt you again.”

Mary smiled, despite herself. “I-it’s okay. I’m choosing to do this, this time.”

“That does not—” The Forest broke off, and Mary was struck again by how strangely human the sentiment was. “If it is too much, then please say so. I will guide you back out.”

“Okay,” she said, voice shaking a little.

Carefully the trees pulled back, inching along the ground, dragging their roots from their places until there was a long, grassy path into the darkness. Lights flickered along the edges, guiding Mary inward.

For a moment, Mary remembered the stories about those lights, and how following them could lead to a person getting lost forever.

But she also knew that the Forest wouldn’t mind if she chose to turn and walk out, instead. Slowly, hesitantly, she edged forward, walking carefully along the path.

The pathway was bright, lit by brightly glowing balls of light that kept the darkness in the rest of the Forest at bay. Trees and stones and animals continued to move out of her way, extending the path further and further into the Forest’s center. She wondered if she could keep walking and come out on the other side.

(She wondered if Papa would come looking for her, or if he’d just stay in his empty house and grieve.)

The trees stopped moving, and Mary stepped into the center of a large, dark clearing. She blinked, trying to peer through the darkness, willing her eyes to adjust.

Lights flickered in the clearing, a rainbow of blue and pink and yellow, flooding the grass and the trees with brilliant, fractured hues. The long strands of grass shimmered with dew, waving in the slight breeze. A massive tree grew in the center of the clearing, trunk twisted so that it looked like it was made up of dozens of smaller trees. Bird nests filled the upper branches, protected by a thick canopy of leaves. Tiny hatchlings peered out of their nests at Mary, feathers still dull, but scattering small bursts of light as they ruffled their downy wings. A larger bird flew overhead, gliding towards one of the nests and perching to feed one of the chicks.

Something emerged from the trees, and Mary gasped as a large stag walked towards her. Its antlers looked like gnarled branches, chipping apart in areas to reveal bursts of color. Its neck seemed too long, its legs too spindly, and when it huffed, it breathed mist. Mary was almost afraid, until a doe and fawn stepped out behind it. The fawn looked much like its father, if a little more proportionate, but had a pair of extra legs it bounced on. It jumped towards Mary, curiously lifting its head and nuzzling at her hand. Mary giggled, stroking its velvety fur.

“Being part of the Forest is not always death,” the Forest said, and it took Mary a moment to understand it was coming from the stag. “There is life, too. One is given power and care through life, and when they pass, they become a part of the Forest again, to help support life. It is the way of things.” A pause. “But I should not have shown you the man. It distressed you. That was wrong.”

Mary knelt, scratching the fawn under the chin. “You didn’t know. You, um. You hadn’t interacted much with humans before.”

“It was still wrong. I should not have hurt you.”

A bird fluttered near her, and the Forest shifted, voice coming from it, instead of the stag. “I do not always understand human morals,” it said, “but I understand harm. My concern has always been whether or not harm has been done to those that are a part of me.”

“Y-you said that’s why you chased us out before.”

“Yes. I allowed you to stay because you did not cause harm. I should not have then caused harm to you.”

Mary stood. A couple more birds fluttered around her, stirring her clothes and making her giggle. “It’s beautiful,” she admitted. “I wonder if that’s why people stay here, sometimes.”

The Forest went quiet, suddenly. “They get lost,” it said after a long, long moment.

“They can’t find their way out.”

“Sometimes. Sometimes, they are lost in their minds, rather than in the physical world. They stay here and do not leave.” A pause. “I do not want that to happen to you.”

“But you can always guide me back out. Right?”

“Yes.”

“And—and you can guide others out, too?”

A pause. Lights flickered, lighting up a path. “If they choose,” it said finally.

“Good. Because—because I don’t want—I don’t want people like Ian to go missing anymore.”

The Forest stayed silent for a long time. Mary didn’t mind; she let the silence grow, absently petting the fawn until it felt like things had grown too late. Then she stood, letting the Forest guide her back to the edge, lights flickering along the path.

The Forest stopped her briefly with a whisper of, “Mary.”

She cocked her head.

“You are always welcome here,” it said, “if you need refuge.”

Mary smiled, a small thing that felt more real than anything she’d given over the past several days. “Okay.”

~*~

-Mary hadn’t really meant to talk to anyone about the Forest—at least, not until she had a better plan. She didn’t know how to explain what she’d learned (didn’t think anyone would listen), and so cautiously hoarded the information to herself, going back to the Forest when she could in order to speak to it and learn more.

But then it was the weekend, and Papa was having people over from his work, and they’d gotten into the adult drinks and gone red in the face and started hollering and laughing in the living room. Mary knew that she wasn’t supposed to go in there—wasn’t sure she wanted to, really—but she’d heard one of Papa’s friends say, “All those stories about the Forest are bullshit. Mark went in a couple days ago, and he came back out, perfectly fine.”

Mary paused, hovering close to the doorway.

“Maybe he just—maybe he just got so lost that he came out the other side.”

“Nah, nah, I’m telling you—he said he saw these colored light things.” The words were slurred, but Mary couldn’t help her grin, and she pressed her hands tightly to her mouth to keep from giggling. “Said they led him right out.”

Papa said, “You shouldn’t tell such stories.”

“Oh, come on, Rick, lighten up. It’s all in good fun.”

“You shouldn’t—you shouldn’t talk about stuff like that.”

Something in Papa’s voice made the hairs on Mary’s neck stand on end. She peered cautiously around the doorway.

Papa was leaning forward in his recliner, bottle clasped in his hands, his expression distant and haggard. “Ian talked like that,” Papa said. “Ian talked about that all the time, about his—about how the Forest was magic, and how he’d go see it one day. Nobody believed it. People just—just fucking ran away. But Ian believed in those stupid fairytales, and he wouldn’t stop looking. He believed them so much it killed him.”

One of the men laughed, and slapped Papa’s shoulder, and said, “Right, a story’s what killed him.”

Papa shoved the man’s arm away. “He wouldn’t leave it alone! He kept—he obsessed over it until—until there was nothing left. He’s dead, now. Maybe if people didn’t talk about those damn stories—” He shook his head and took another swig from his bottle.

Mary stepped into the living room, and without truly pausing to think, she said, “But they’re true, Papa.”

All eyes were very suddenly on her. She quailed under them, suddenly wondering if she should run back to her room.

“Look at this!” one of the men said, pointing at Mary. “Kiddo’s going to join us! What’ve you got to say, kiddo?”

Papa stared at her, a dark look on his face.

(Mary remembered telling Papa about what happened to Ian. Papa had been so angry, then. She wondered if it’d be different now, with friends around. She wondered if it mattered.) “I-it’s true, though. The Forest—people disappear because they become a part of it. But it’s not trying to! It’s because of the weird magic stuff.”

“Weird magic stuff,” someone repeated, laughing.

“Yeah! It’s not all scary, though. Some of it’s really pretty, too. A-and we worked out a way to maybe keep people from disappearing? That’s what those lights were. I talked to the Forest about it the other day, and—”

“You went back to the Forest?” Papa asked.

The room suddenly went very, very quiet.

Mary took a hesitant step backwards. Papa’s scowl had deepened, his eyebrows so low that they cast his eyes in deep shadow.

Papa stood. He stumbled, a little, and nearly dropped the bottle.

Mary scrambled back further.

One of the men said, “Hey, Rick, maybe you shouldn’t—”

“I told you,” Papa said, low and quiet and fierce, “not to go back to the Forest.”

Mary’s eyes darted towards the door.

“Look at me!”

Mary whipped towards Papa, who had come much, much closer than she’d expected. “I-I’m sorry.”

Something sharp stung her cheek. She fell and sprawled across the floor, hands scraping roughly against the wood.

“Rick, hey!”

“Why did you go back there?” Papa snarled, and the way his face contorted made him seem more like the not-human from the Forest, rather than the Papa she’d known as a child. “I told you not to.”

“I’m sorry!” Mary said, scrambling backwards.

Papa lifted his hand again.

One of his coworkers caught it, hissing, “Rick, I think you’ve had a little too much—”

“Let go of me!”

Mary scrambled to her feet and ran.

Papa roared behind her, but she didn’t look back, crashing through the door, sprinting bare-foot through the darkening streets. She wove through the houses, and after a while she heard an angry shout of, “Mary!” from behind her.

Papa was chasing after her. Papa was far away, now, but he could catch up quickly.

(What happens when he catches her?)

(“I will give you refuge, if you need it.”)

Mary stumbled from between the houses and onto the field, the Forest looming dark and silent ahead. She hurried up the slope, chest rattling, breathing heavy, scrambling up, up, up, one hand reaching frantically for the trees.

Heavy breathing and footsteps sounded behind her, and she’d just made it to the tree line when Papa grabbed the back of her shirt. She stretched an arm, frantically, towards the Forest, but Papa dragged her backwards, lifting her like a disobedient cat. “Where are you going?” Papa asked, shaking her, and it hurt. She fumbled for his arm, and she shook her again. “Huh? You think you’re going back there?”

Mary choked on a sob. “Help,” she said, and it was more a sob than an actual cry.

“Help?” Papa snarled. “I am helping you, I’m keeping you from ending up like Ian. You should be grateful, but you never know how—nothing but trouble. We’re going home. We’re going home, and then you’re going to—”

A harsh wind echoed between the trees.

Papa stopped.

Mary dangled, the tips of her feet touching the ground.

(“He has caused you harm,” something that sounded eerily like the Forest whispered in her mind.

He’s protecting me.

Is he?)

“You aren’t helping me.”

The world went very quiet, and it took a long moment for Mary to realize she’d said anything at all. When Papa responded, his voice was low and dangerous: “What?”

Mary swallowed, but continued, one hand reaching to grab Papa’s arm. “You’re hurting me,” she said. “A-and I know it’s because you’re scared, but—but—but I want you to stop hurting me!”

“I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Then why do I feel safer in the Forest then with you?”

Papa’s face contorted into a snarl. He shook her, roughly.

Mary grimaced, her head spinning, one hand silently reaching back towards the Forest. Something brushed against her fingertips.

Papa growled, “We’re leaving. You are not to come back to this Forest. You are not—”

And then the Forest spoke, long and low and rumbling, like it was shaking the very earth. “What are you doing?”

Papa froze. His grip loosened, just enough so that Mary could drop to the ground, coughing and sputtering.

Rough hands—almost like wood—gently touched Mary’s arm.

Papa’s voice came, low and broken and uncertain: “Ian?”

Mary blinked up, and for a moment she saw Uncle Ian’s face as it once had been, soft and friendly with a twinkle in his eyes. Then it shifted, a little, and she noticed the rough, cracked edges of his face and the bushes along his back. He lifted Mary carefully and turned towards Papa, face contorting into a scowl.

The trees leaned forward ominously. “You have done harm to the child.”

Papa took several steps backwards, eyes too wide. “I’m protecting her,” he said. “Ian, I’m making sure she doesn’t get hurt. I’m trying to keep her from ending up like you.”

“This is not protection,” the Forest rumbled; Uncle Ian’s chest reverberated with the words, and things moved behind him, large and dark and intimidating, gnashing teeth and snarling loud enough that the cries seemed to blend together.

“Sometimes,” Papa said, but his voice was wavering, “sometimes you have to hurt people to protect them. Ian, you have to understand. Sometimes—”

The wind roared through the trees, moving so quickly that it stirred Mary’s clothes and nearly knocked Papa off his feet. “No,” the Forest said. “You have done her harm.”

Papa’s expression contorted, into something angry and feral and frightening. “What do you care?” he snapped. “You’re not really Ian. You’re not really here. You’re just some sort of—some sort of crazy hallucination. Just a bunch of trees.”

“I have many names, and none at all,” the Forest boomed, and it sounded like the thunder of falling stones, of countless animal cries and the crash of waterfalls. “I have been here since time began, and even before. I have seen humans far stronger and braver than you. I have seen love, and life, and death and pain. I have survived throughout the ages, and I shelter those who would take refuge within my trees. And I will protect my own.”

A creature lunged from the depths of the Forest, massive and snarling ferociously, covered in bark-like armor with long claws that stretched like shadows towards Papa. He scrambled backwards, panicked, as it swiped at his chest. More appeared, wraith-like and warped, a mass of long fangs and claws and eyes.

Ian’s fingers curled tighter around Mary, and she lifted a hand to grip his shoulder.

Papa looked at Mary for a moment, then to the wall of darkness that snarled at him. He stumbled a step back, and then another, and then turned and bolted back to the town.

The creatures stayed where they were for a few moments, waiting until he was out of sight until, one by one, they moved back into the trees.

“Are you alright, Mary?” the Forest asked, Ian carefully setting her back on her feet.

Mary hiccupped and shook, but she said, “Y-yes.”

The Forest did not answer, and she found herself admitting, “N-no.” She sat, and hugged her legs to her chest, and tried not to think about how much her neck hurt. “I-I can’t go back. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

“Then stay here.”

Mary’s head whipped up, but she had no one to look at, save the empty expanse of the Forest. “I-I don’t—I don’t want to end up like—”

Ian stretched out a hand, slowly, and reached to gently touch the space above her heart. Light flickered through his fingertip, warm and bright and alive. “I cannot stop that from happening, if you choose to stay here permanently,” the Forest said, and for the first time it sounded pained. “But I can give you refuge, when you want it. I can guide you to the edges, so that you won’t be lost for so long that I overcome you. I can provide you with a piece of my magic, so that even if you travel, you will have my protection with you. But,” and its voice went whisper-quiet, “only if you want it.”

Mary touched Ian’s hand, gently. “You’d look after me?”

“Yes.”

Mary grinned, then laughed, and though the tears still stung, they didn’t feel quite as bad anymore. “Okay.”

~*~

-Most of the time, nobody goes to the Forest outside of town.

There are stories, though; of a young woman who lives within the Forest, who can do strange magic and plays tricks on travelers, who has traveled through the world herself. They say that she was the daughter of someone who lived in the town, once, and that her parents died, or moved away and left her there, or were stolen away by the Forest itself so that it could have their child.

Sometimes people claim to see her—a wild-haired woman in hiking gear or a mismatched dress or heavy winter clothes, sitting in the trees or talking to animals or yelling at travelers when they get too close. She’d guide people out of the Forest, sometimes, and those people talked about the fantastic things they saw within—about fairy lights, and unusual creatures, and shifting trees.

Most people don’t believe the stories—a forest is just a forest, after all. But every so often, someone gets curious enough to go to the edge and look in. And, when they do, they sometimes find her grinning back at them.

#original fiction big bang #forest child #my writing

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oliviaillustrations · 3 years ago

Text

Garden of Eden

my piece for the @grishaversebigbang ! this is based off of the lovely dark academia ninej au fic written by @kugisakigf and @emdrabbles titled Garden of Eden

you can find my gang members and their amazing pieces below! 💗

Materialki: @landryaugust (here and here) @oranges-and-stuff (here)

AO3 Link: here!

Summary:

Nina is doing just fine as a directionless art student—she goes to class four times a week, struggles to get oil paint out of her clothes on laundry day, makes sure to dodge her landlord when he asks about rent, and dreads the day she has to graduate. Maybe she feels as important to the grand scheme of things as a stray brushstroke, and she's no closer to any shred of a clue about what she's going to do with her life. But it's fine. She's fine.

Except when Nina’s painting class gets a live model, she spends more time staring at this very pretty, very intimidating newcomer more than she does at her own canvas. Inej is gorgeous and terrifying and has her life together and now Nina can’t remember the last time she was able to think about anything but her. Pressure starts to ramp up and the world she's tried so hard to hide herself from keeps pounding at every wall she's built to protect herself, and now she's left wondering if she'll ever amount to anything. Will history forget Nina Zenik? Will she ever do something worthwhile with what little she's been given? And does it even matter, when Inej Ghafa seems to draw her ever closer, an Icarus to her blazing sun?

First Chapter: Nina Zenik is crumpled in a mass of blankets, shivering and bone-tired, when she realizes that sometimes, living in the attic of a church is worth it. She can deal with the rotting wood that creaks and rolls under her feet, the sounds splintering out across the room as she walks. She can forgive the smell of must and cobwebs, the heavy fragrance of mold and must and incense lingering around every corner, even on the rare occasions when she has time to clean. She can almost ignore the deep ache of wintertime, the heat barely making its way to her with long, spiraling fingers, the cold permeating through every crack in the walls that let in the sharp December chill. She's made her peace with the occasional mouse that sprints underfoot, the moths spending weeks on the windowsill, the shitty water pressure and gas stove that only works once a week if she was lucky.

Because mornings like this seemed to make everything worth it.

The rising sun, shallow and shy in the pale morning light, would reach out and glance off of an ancient stained glass window, just at her bedside. The sky would sing, and the carefully laid image of The Virgin Mary would glow, sweet features framed in green and violet. Nina would wake to vibrant shadows dancing across her skin and colors pooling on her floor like spilled blood. Sometimes, she would just sit there, hours before classes would start. The world faded to a hazy gray, and all that was left was the sunrise and her. She'd just look at the sun, and she'd pause for a moment, and just breathe . It never quite felt like she could get a full breath of air anymore. She would just take a breath, and she'd stop thinking, and she'd just be . She wasn't Nina Zenik, right now. She was sunlight and morning air and that particular shade of crimson shot through with gold when the light shines in.

She blinks, and the sun has moved. She's washed in pitch again, deep blue drowning the lines and arches of her body into a loose silhouette. She's empty, again, just a fragile body in a silent room. The floor dips and bends beneath her feet as if to sing a hollow tune in some form of an answer. It does not feel like enough. It never does.

She wipes a smudge of dust off the windows, her finger stained red even in the fading light. Her heart beats in concert with the pulsing of her head, and she winces, hard. Lack of sleep is catching up to her, it seems. The last few nights—weeks, if she's being true—have been short and restless, a sick sort of fear settling in whenever her eyes begin to close. It burns like every word she's never said and it spoils like a promise in her stomach. Everything is too much, and it's all she can do to stand on two feet and will her fingers to curl around a pencil. And even that's a pretense.

She hasn't been able to paint in months. Everything she makes seems twisted and wrong , an abomination of oil paints and a mockery of everything she's worked to accomplish. (She buries the voice that says she hasn't truly accomplished anything deep in her chest and tries to forget it can still breathe). She's felt stuck, a broken record that keeps skipping the same line of a song she's heard a hundred times. She can feel everything falling away from her, but doesn't know how to hold on to it all. She's losing it all with nothing she can do to stop it.

Nina doesn't have time for this- this crisis , something hisses in her ear, teeth grazing against her neck. But the problem is, she never has time for any of this. It all keeps piling up and then she’s buried under the weight of it and then she's having a panic attack in a public restroom and turning in late assignments and making excuses and she can’t do that . She can't do that again. So she compartmentalizes, picks out tiny little problems, and thinks about them for a short while, washes it down with wine, and calls it a night. Everything she doesn't deal with disappears in the morning. And she likes it that way.

But morning has come, and she still feels like a goddamn inside-out sock and she doesn't know what to do about it. Nina has been floundering for years, though, so this isn't any different than anything else.

Her phone flickers and the curling numbers read 7:49. Shit. She has a nine a.m. class and she's still in bed. Normally, she'd get to rot into her pillows for another hour at least, but she needed it for her major, and by the time she'd finally finished agonizing over which courses to take, it had been the only time slot open. So, here she is, aching limbs and sunburnt eyes, stepping onto the cold embrace of hardwood floors. She shivers, and the weak threads of sunlight that weave through the windows don't make the room any warmer.

The shower isn't warm, either. She bears the wet chill anyway. The water is soothing and it washes away the dregs of sleeplessness from her eyes. She stands under the spray, lets it drip down her back, and feels something like comfort as the soap slips down around her ankles and the room begins to smell like lavender. She waits for the water to finally run low, and steps out, puddles tracing her footsteps as she makes her way to her dresser.

Her hair lies damp on her shoulders, thick strands tangled and dark against her skin. It started curling, lately, and she's not sure why, but she doesn't quite mind. Sometimes, she closes her eyes, and imagines vines and leaves woven through the loose curls. A vision of Dionysus with dirt-stained fingers and violet stains under her eyes. A fairy twined with sumac and oak, wings that glow gold in the sunlight. She's always wanted to be special. She's always wished to be more than she is. But now, her own haggard reflection is what stares back at her. She's not sure if she likes what she sees.

She's not sure that it matters.

Nina gets dressed, rifling through her closet in search of something warm. It’s not like she’s obsessed with how she looks, but she does try and pick something nice. Today, she settles on a pink sweater patterned with strawberries, and earrings to match. (She’s nothing if not consistent.) It’s soft and thick, and it smells like summertime. It’s perfect for this, the kind of day that soaks through your skin and wears away at your bones. She slips into thick boots and a pair of jeans, and she's gone.

She takes the spiral staircase outside of her apartment one creaking step at a time, counting as she goes. One, two, three, four, avoid the loose nail on five, six, seven, eight. She should get that fixed, she thinks. But that would require seeing the landlord. And no one wants to see the landlord. The thought whispers away as fast as it came.

The staircase spits her out in the church vestibule. It’s all dark wood and low ceilings, pale morning light filtering through the narrow windows. Soft music floats through the heavy doors separating Nina from the nave of the church, and if she listens closely, faint chanting is woven between the notes. The song sounds familiar. She’s unsure if it’s a psalm drilled into her from middle school bible camp or because the organ drums the same tune beneath her floor every day.

Nina stands a moment longer, eyes momentarily fluttering closed as she listens, grasped by an unnamable sensation equal parts reassuring and paralyzing. And then she’s out the door, down the marble steps, and on the street.

The cold air stings her cheeks and her shoulders wince against the wind. She really should've grabbed a coat before she left, but it's fine. She still hasn't eaten, and she has a class in half an hour. If she turns back now she'll be late. So, Nina grits her teeth, ignoring how hard they're rattling against each other, and tugs the sleeves of her sweater down to cover her shaking hands. The coffee shop’s only a five-minute walk, and it'll be warm inside, and that's the only thing that keeps her moving forward. Her feet beat on the concrete with a steady rhythm, and she focuses on that instead of the aching cold.

The awning of the Dregs greets her, bold block letters on top of old red brick. Scuttling through the door, she’s welcomed by a gust of warm air. The barista looks up at the gentle tingle of the bell and flashes her a quick smile before resuming their work. They don’t look familiar. Must be a new hire. It feels like every time she gets comfortable around here, something changes. The world rolls and ripples under her feet, and she doesn’t remember the last time she’s caught her balance.

Nina takes a deep breath and rubs her hands together, which are now bright pink, then places them on the tips of her ears, which are also bright pink. The morning is quiet, with only a scattering of patrons to be found in the mixed-matched chairs. Some of the dark red wallpaper is beginning to peel off the plaster behind the counter. The Dregs she knows and loves.

“Good morning.” Behind the counter stands the barista, hands fidgeting with a dishtowel.

Nina blinks. “Mornin’,” she croaks, voice weak. She takes a look at the drink menu, even though she’s been here every morning since freshman orientation, because she needs to look busy and not as if she’s more burnt out than a pile of ash. Thankfully, the barista notices her quiet plea and doesn’t try to strike up any more conversation.

A few beats of silence pass, only interrupted by the occasional clink of coffee mugs. Despite already knowing what she’s going to order--the same damn caramel macchiato with far too much sugar than she should start her day with because why would she ever change the habits that hurt her the most--Nina stares at the menu overhead. Her eyes slowly unfocus, not actually reading the menu so much as wondering if she should even try to, so she doesn’t realize how much time has passed until the barista clears their throat with a little more vigor than necessary.

“So…” they start, rocking on the balls of their feet and making a point to not look directly at Nina. “Can I get you started or…?”

She snaps her head back down. “Oh, shit - sorry, yeah.” She allows herself one more moment to reconsider, then orders the caramel macchiato, but not before fumbling with her change. A cascade of pennies and nickels and dimes all crash to the floor and all noise in the cafe ceases at once. Nina doesn’t need to turn around to know how many pairs of eyes rest on her.

“I’ll, uh - get that for you right away.” The barista couldn’t have shuffled away any faster, disappearing into the back.

Nina swears once, loud, then stoops down and collects her change. Fucking figures. This morning has felt awfully representative of life in recent years - bitter, shitty, reliant on loose change. Yet her pride, or perhaps self pity, leaves her stagnant, unable to change. She refuses to get her hopes up about the coffee. With her luck it’ll be bitter and shitty, too.

The barista comes out soon after, coffee in one hand and muffin in the other. They set both on the counter and offer Nina a meek look. “Muffin’s on the house.”

“Oh. Thank you,” she says, scooping both into her hands. And she means it.

“Of course,” they say. Then they lean over the counter and point across the cafe. “And, uh - the drinks in the case over there, the orange ones. Yeah, those. They’re good for hangovers.”

Nina looks from the barista, to the case, then back to the barista. So that’s what this is. She scrunches her face into a weak smile, though it probably looks more like a grimace, and takes her drink without another word. Of course they think she’s hungover, because who would have such a shitty morning if they were sober? That thought is chased with a wave of guilt, heavy. They were being nice. Why can’t she just say thank you and move on? She pushes the door open and the bone chilling day greets her with a sting of cold that bites at her cheeks, her nose, ready to greet her next misfortune.

#gvbb21 #gvbbcreation21 #gvbbfic21 #grishaverse big bang #six of crows #nina zenik #the dregs #crooked kingdom #inej gafha

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marshmallow-phd · 5 years ago

Text

Catching Rain

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue

The theatre was loud, opposite of its normally hushed nature. People were yelling back and forth, saws and drills screeching as they tore through wood. In the background, sewing machines could be heard, along with the occasional curse as the needle got stuck in the fabric. One person, however, was quiet, focused. The paintbrush in his hand was small. The hairs tightly pressed together in order to create the perfect details on the backdrop. Erik was hunched over, sitting cross-legged on the stage floor as he squinted at the distant forest he was perfecting. Setting your bag down in the second row, you headed up the stage stairs.

“Hey,” you said softly in order not to scare him.

Blinking, he turned around. His glasses were on the very tip of his nose, having slipped from the slight bit of sweat that had conjured on his face from the glaring stage lights. With a green speckled finger, he pushed the frame back up to its proper position. “Hey! I thought you had a project?”

You shrugged. “I did, but… I kind of hit a wall and needed to give my brain a rest. I’m sorry, I guess I should have gotten lunch with you anyway.”

“That’s alright. If you want, I still have half of my sandwich left.”

Smiling, you ruffled his hair. “Thanks, I’m not really hungry.” Minseok’s dismissive response had ruined the idea of food for you. Later you knew you would be starving, but right now food sounded like a great way to churn your stomach and see what it had been brewing all morning. “I’m just going to go hang out in the seats, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “No one will bother you or question it. Not that anyone would notice in the first place.”

“It’s pretty crazy around here, isn’t it?”

“You missed the big explosion when Dorothy couldn’t find the armchair for the second act. Turns out, someone just leaned a piece of wood for the set against it and hid it from view. Still took us half an hour to find it.”

You snorted. “Wow. I’m actually kind of sad I missed that.” You kissed his cheek, careful to avoid a smear that you were sure he had no clue about. That stupid guilt knocked once again.

The seat was only slightly comfortable, the cushion long ago worn down from a thousand performances. You stewed there in the second row. Though it wasn’t appropriate during shows, you didn’t think anyone would care if you set your feet on the seat in front of you. Folding nearly in half, you hid your face from those who might look your way as you cranked the handle to get the gears in your head to turn.

Confusion seemed like too weak a word to describe what was going on in your head. You were angry, frustrated, sad, relieved. There had to be some language in the world that tied those emotions all together. You just didn’t know it. Perhaps that one word could be the pill you needed to no longer feel this way. If you could shove all of that into a single box, you would be fine. But is it ever that simple? When you closed your eyes and tried not to think of anything in particular, Minseok’s face faded into view. You’d shake your head to drive the image away. It came back anyway.

You felt powerless against this unseen pull, this innate desire to see him again, even after what had just happened in the courtyard. Your mind made excuses, told you that if you simply asked him to explain then he would. Looking up at Erik, you sighed.

There was no comparison because they were two different people. Erik was the sensitive artist, the kind who went to coffee shops on Friday nights to hear a mediocre guitar player sing his “poetry” because he believed everyone deserved an audience. Minseok, on the other hand, was a strange combination of math lab nerd and soccer team captain. He was goofy and dorky, easily amused by corny jokes, but also had the physique of someone who ran five miles in the A.M. for the fun of it. What you couldn’t figure out was what drew you to him in the first place. In any normal, not-already-dating-someone situation, you wouldn’t have been interested in his type. Yet, it was almost… effortless, being around him. Even after all these years, you sometimes had to force yourself into conversation with Erik. Comfortable silences didn’t exactly exist in your relationship, but you always chalked that up to your own personality. Now you wondered if those moments would be better with Minseok.

Was this a normal thing? You heard stories of college sweethearts all the time and for the last few years, you thought you and Erik would join that club. You hadn’t thought about marriage, per se, but you hadn’t seen an end either. The idea of coming to a fork in the road had never occurred to you. While logic and third party advice you’d casually picked up over your life told you to stick to the left, you were being drawn to the right. One road you could easily see where it led, signs, clear pastures, and everything. The other way wasn’t as clear, disappearing into thick woods that were both inviting and foreboding. You didn’t know if there was another side for the road to come out to. The only way you would ever find out would be to follow it.

You were able to sit there in that second row seat for a few hours, surprisingly, with your phone and the internet as your companion. Only occasionally would you contemplate that fork again. Left, right, left, right. Easy, hard, easy, hard. In the end, you decided you needed to see Minseok again to really decide.

The stage manager called it quits late in the afternoon. Erik washed up his brushes and came to meet you. “Hungry yet?” You nodded, more for something else to do before you were alone again. “Good. I’m starving.” Taking your bag like the gentleman that he was, he waited for you to stand up and then walked you out of the theatre.

Dinner ended up being a small burger joint that Erik had been craving all day. You gave no complaints as you started salivating at the thought of their fries. Surely they had to have some sort of secret, addictive ingredient to make fried potato sticks so incredibly delicious. The two of you ended up splitting a large basket of the side. It stayed equally in the middle of the table so no one could say that the other was hogging. Yes. Safe. Easy. Seeable.

Erik offered a follow up to dinner, but you feigned exhaustion (though there might not have been any faking truthfully, as your mind was tired from constantly running throughout the day). He walked you all the way to the door of your room. As usual, he told you goodnight and leaned in for a kiss. But unlike your normal anticipation, you flinched back to avoid his lips. He stared at you in confusion. Clearing your throat, you made it up to him by kissing his cheek before running for cover in your dorm. From the light of the hallway, you could see that Erik stood on the other side for a few seconds, hesitating to understand what had just happened, before finally walking away.

Teeth clenched down on your bottom lip, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket. Thankfully, Willa was still out so you were alone. The glare of your phone burned in the darkness. You squinted as you moved your thumb across the screen, unlocking it before opening the contacts. The number you wanted was easy enough to find. The pad of your thumb hovered over the little green phone. It accepted the slightest touch and switched over to calling mode. You placed the speaker to your ear.

Rrriiinggg. Rrriiinnngggg.

“Hello?”

You sucked in air. He’d answered. You didn’t have a plan for this. You didn’t have any sort of plan after pressing call. You’d hoped that he was one of those people who didn’t have a voicemail set up.

“Hello? (y/n)?”

You hung up.

Minseok watched you stalk off in the exact direction he wished you hadn’t. Anywhere else; he would have been fine with you going anywhere besides the theatre where your boyfriend was. His wolf growled and clawed with jealousy. Why was he so stupid? Since when was keeping his mate a secret more important than being with you? Of course he wanted to eat lunch with you, to see how you got along with his brothers. But the idea of Baekhyun figuring it out had caused him to panic. As obnoxious as Baekhyun could be, he wasn’t stupid. At some point during the meal, Minseok would have done something a little overprotective and Baekhyun would have started to connect the dots. Unfortunately, he’d already picked up on something.

“Oooo, breaking the rules, are we?” The brat even had the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows at the eldest wolf.

Not holding back, Minseok swung, hitting a good target on the upper arm.

“Ow!”

“First, it's not a rule,” Minseok grumbled. “Junmyeon simply suggested that we don’t date. Besides, you’re one to talk. How’s Daisy?”

Baekhyun was hardly phased. He sported a cheeky grin. “She’s great.”

Bored, Sehun asked, “Can we just go eat now? Who cares who Minseok was flirting with?”

“I wasn’t flirting with her!” Minseok shouted. He explained in a lower voice, “She’s having trouble in her math class so I’m doing Sungkyu a favor and helping her out so she can pass. That’s it.”

“So why didn’t you want her to eat with us, then?” Jongin asked innocently.

Minseok flinched. Jongin was more observant than anyone would give him credit for. Not that Minseok was subtle in any sense of the word. “I didn’t say that I didn’t want her to eat with us. Knowing you all, you would have let something slip about what we are.”

“Minseok, we all caught that she was willing to join us,” Chanyeol said.

Huffing, Minseok grumbled, “Are we going to go eat or should I just go by myself?”

Shrugging off the odd behavior, Baekhyun turned and headed for the parking lot. Minseok was quick to follow, feeling smaller than normal surrounded by his pack members. In his head, he pictured himself running back towards the theatre, bursting through the doors, and - in true dramatic fashion - declaring you his.

That would be a complete disaster. He should only do that if he wanted you to never talk to him ever again.

Minseok hardly paid attention as Chanyeol drove them to his favorite pizza place. He was in a trance as the others took control of what to order. Physically, he sat in the booth next to Sehun with Baekhyun on the other side. His shoulder was pressed into the chipped wooden guard rail that ran along the wall but he hardly noticed the uncomfortable poke in his skin. His mind was still back at the campus. He was driving himself crazy trying to figure out how he was going to make this up to you, how he was going to explain his bizarre switch up to you. He hardly ate, which was fine since the others were more than happy to devour the three large pizzas with varying toppings. The others weren’t bothered by his quietness since it was nothing new. Minseok was always more of an observer than a participant. In a time like this, it worked to his advantage.

There was no consulting Minseok when the lunch was through. They all simply piled back into the car and headed out of town towards the woods. Vague mentions of going for a run were tossed around. Minseok didn’t voice any sort of agreement. He wasn’t in the mood. Ha. A wolf not in the mood to run wild among the trees? He really was turned upside down because of you. While the younger ones headed straight for the trees, Minseok headed up the porch and through the front living room until he came to the kitchen. Oh, thank god. There were still beers in the fridge. He grabbed one and immediately opened it, still chugging as he walked over to the breakfast booth.

“Did you have fun?”

Junmyeon slid into the booth across from him. Minseok put the can down. “Yeah. At first. We had fun with the project. It was when the others showed up that things… went bad.”

“What do you mean?” Junmyeon asked with a frown.

“I… panicked. The others invited her to join us and I….” Minseok shrugged.

“Worried that the others would figure it out?” Junmyeon guessed. The response was a nod.

“Figure what out?”

Shit.

Baekhyun stood in the entryway, looking back and forth between the eldest and the alpha. Minseok gulped. He thought that all four of them had gone out on a run and he hadn’t heard anyone else in the house. Stepping further into the kitchen, Baekhyun asked again, “Figure what out?”

Minseok looked to Junmyeon for help. None was to be found.

“You should probably tell them.”

“I’m not going to tell just Baekhyun so he can go running and tell the others and exaggerate.”

“I can always call a family meeting.”

“I don’t want to make that big of a deal out of it.”

“Too late on that. Besides, that’s the best way to get everyone here. Get it out of the way.”

“Or to get none of them here.”

“I’m still standing here,” Baekhyun scoffed.

Minseok looked at him. “I know.”

Junmyeon sighed. “Baekhyun, will you go get the others? Tell them it's important?”

He nodded. “Sure. Be back in a flash.” He left, already shedding the hoodie over his head.

Slumping down in the booth, Minseok felt defeated. Junmyeon sensed this immediately. “It really won’t be that bad. And they need to be prepared.”

“Prepared?”

“Yes. Once a pack member finds the first mate, the others will slowly start to find their own. It won’t be immediate. It could take years, really. But it’s like a domino effect. They should be aware that it's their turn next.”

It made sense. The pack was always connected, both in mind and in instinct. But it had been just them for so long, the idea of bringing in mates to the fold was odd. Minseok wasn’t sure how the others would react. Fists clenched on the table, he leaned his head down. It took almost half an hour before the rest of the pack came back. Yixing had arrived first, coming back from a lab he was making up from earlier in the week. The rest came into the kitchen ten minutes later. They were knocking into each other as they yanked on shirts and pants.

“Okay, Junmyeon, what’s the emergency?” Jongdae asked, very prepared to be his usual sarcastic, troll self.

But Junmyeon didn’t reply, letting Minseok take the reins instead. Minseok didn't want to do this. He wanted to run, to keep his secret a little while longer while he figured this whole thing out. But Junmyeon was right. It was time.

“(y/n) - the girl that some of you met today… she’s my mate.”

It was pure silence in the kitchen. It was unnatural in this household. The only time it was ever this quiet was when the house was empty.

“I’m sorry,” Jongdae said. “You said… mate? Right?” Minseok nodded. He growled. “Fantastic.”

“You really found your mate, Minseok?” Yixing was more enthusiastic about the news. He looked elated, even. A small smile was creeping up.

Despite the stunned silence, Minseok found Yixing’s energy infectious. “Yeah. I did.”

“Have you told her yet?” Chanyeol asked.

“She has a boyfriend,” Jongin reminded him.

“Oh. Right.”

“I’m working on it,” Minseok said. “I just-” His phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, his eyes widened at the name popping up on the screen. With sixteen eyes on him, he answered, frantic. “Hello?” A gasp on the other end. “Hello? (y/n)?” You didn’t answer. Two seconds ticked by and you ended the call. He stared at his now black screen in shock. Then his brain started again. “I got to go.”

“Was it her?” Junmyeon asked.

“Wait, I have more questions!” Baekhyun whined. Minseok was out of the kitchen in a heartbeat, jumping into his car and flying down the road. He didn’t know if you were hurt or in trouble. Why had you called him? Why didn’t you say anything? He was determined to find out. There was only one problem.

He didn’t know your dorm number.

You’d briefly mentioned the shared campus housing with your best friend, but that was all the information he had. Looks like he would have to find it the old fashion way.

Asking.

As soon as he parked, he headed towards the dorms, thankful at least that the two large housing buildings were close in proximity. He headed for the smaller cafeteria located in the lobby of the first building. The kitchen was closed but there were still students taking advantage of the open seating. Okay. Here it goes.

The first few groups that Minseok asked had never heard of you. He was starting to berate himself on what a stupid idea this was. He should have called you back and asked you to call him when you were ready because it most certainly would have gone to voicemail. But his luck soon turned around. He approached a group of three girls sitting in a corner. One of them had a camera.

“Excuse me?” They looked up. Minseok cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but I’m trying to find (y/n) (l/n)’s room. Do you happen to know her?”

One girl narrowed her eyes. “Why do you want to know?”

Minseok swallowed. “I… I have her notebook. She’d left it behind earlier at study group. She really needs it for class on Monday but I can’t get a hold of her.” Please believe his stupid lie.

The girl who’d spoken made eye contact with her two friends. “She’s in room twenty-three-nineteen. If she doesn’t answer, just slide the notebook under the door.”

He could almost jump from elated joy. “Thank you!”

Taking off, he headed for the stairs. Your dorm room was only on the second floor so it didn’t take long to follow the signs until he was right outside your door. Only now did the possibility that your roommate would be the one to answer cross his mind. What lie would he have to come up with then? He had to take the chance.

After knocking, he waited, shifting from foot to foot in an attempt to release the nervous energy surging through his body. The door swung open.

It was you. Thank goodness.

You were not the same level of relieved. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Crap. He probably should have thought of that. “You called me.”

You looked back over your shoulder before stepping out into the hallway, letting the door shut behind you. “So? That doesn’t mean you can just show up here!”

“I need to talk to you.”

You licked your lips. No, please don’t do that. It’s too tempting already to grab your face and kiss you against the door. Without speaking, you went back into your room. Well, that was a bust. But before he could walk away with slumped shoulders, you came back, this time with shoes on and your bag. “Let’s go.”

He gave no protest as you led him out of the dorm and into the dark. He had no idea where the two of you were headed, but he planned on embracing whatever came his way. The two of you were going to talk. His heart was thumping hard against his sternum. He was getting more alone time with you. Who knew what would end up flying out of his mouth in these next few hours. Would this be the night of truths and revelations?

#exo #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #minseok x reader #kim minseok #xiumin #exo werewolf au #exo werewolf!au #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo supernatural au #exo series #The Untamed Universe #Catching Rain

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