#especially about names of other language groups that I'm not in (I just looked them up on wikipedia)

[meichenxi]

UK accent bias, discrimination, minority languages and the question of the 'default, normal' english speaker

today I came across something overtly that is usually a covert problem, and I wanted to take a chance to talk about the questions it raises about what it means to be 'normal' and speak 'normal english' in an anglocentric, global world.

let's start at the beginning. I was aimlessly googling around and came across this article, discussing ergodic literature:

I hope that you will see what angered me right away, but if not:

brogue? inaccessible, insufferable brogue? that is so difficult to read you might want to relieve your frustrations by harming a housepet, or striking a loved one?

what????? the fuck??????

my dearly beloathed. this is not a made up sci-fi language. this was not written for your convenience.

this is the glaswegian dialect.

this is how it is written. scots, which is very similar to this, is a language whose speakers have been systematically taught to change and hide and modify their speech, to not speak it in the classroom, to conform. this is NOT comparable to any of the made-up dialects or ways of writing in cloud atlas or any other specularative fiction. the suggestion of ir is deeply insulting.

(the line between various 'dialects' and 'languages' I speak about here is by definition sometimes political, sometimes arbitrary, and often very thin. what goes for the glaswegian dialect here in terms of discrimination goes for scots in general - which is, in fact, even more 'inaccessible' than glaswegian because it has a greater quantity of non-english and therefore non-'familiar' words. speakers of different englishes will face more or less discrimination in different circumstances. caveat over.)

you can find it on twitter, in books, in poetry; and more than that, on the streets and in living rooms, in places that this kind of england-first discrimination hasn't totally eradicated.

an imporant note - this book in question is called Naw Much of a Talker, and it was written originally in Swiss-German and then translated into Glaswegian to preserve similar themes and questions of language and identity. rather than detracting from anything I'm saying, I think the fact this is a translated piece of fiction adds to it - it has literally been translated so it is more accessible, and the article writer did not even realise. it also highlights the fact as well that these are questions which exist across the globe, across multiple languages, of the constant tension everywhere between the 'correct' high language and the 'incorrect, backward' 'low' language or dialect. these are all interesting questions, and someone else can tackle them about german and swiss german -

but I am going to talk today about scots and english, because that is how the writer of this article engaged with this piece and that is the basis upon which they called it 'insufferable brogue', the prejudice they have revealed about scots is what I want to address.

so here, today, in this post: let's talk about it. what is 'normal' english, why is that a political question, and why should we care?

as we begin, so we're all on the same page, I would like to remind everyone that england is not the only country in the united kingdom, and that the native languages of the united kingdom do not only include english, but also:

scots

ulster scots (thank you @la-galaxie-langblr for the correction here!!)

scottish gaelic

welsh

british sign language

irish

anglo-romani

cornish

shelta

irish sign language

manx

northern ireland sign language

and others I have likely forgotten

there are also countless rich, beautiful dialects (the distinction between dialect and language is entirely political, so take this description with a pinch of salt if you're outside of these speaker communities), all with their own words and histories and all of them, yes all of them, are deserving of respect.

and there are hundreds and thousands of common immigrant languages, of languages from the empire, and of englishes across the globe that might sound 'funny' to you, but I want you to fucking think before you mock the man from the call centre: why does india speak english in the first place? before mocking him, think about that.

because it's political. it's ALL political. it's historical, and it's rooted in empire and colonialism and all you need to do is take one look at how we talk about Black language or languages of a colonised country to see that, AAVE or in the UK, multi-cultural london english, or further afield - the englishes of jamaica, kenya, india. all vestiges of empire, and all marked and prejudiced against as 'unintelligent' or lesser in some way.

and closer to home - the systematic eradication and 'englishification' of the celtic languages. how many people scottish gaelic now? cornish? manx? how many people speak welsh? and even within 'english' itself - how many people from a country or rural or very urban or immigrant or working class or queer background are discriminated against, because of their english? why do you think that is?

if you think that language isn't political, then you have likely never encountered discrimination based on how you, your friends, or your family speak.

you are speaking from a position of privilege.

'but it's not formal' 'but it's not fit for the classroom' 'but it sounds silly'. you sound silly, amy. I have a stereotypically 'posh' english accent, and I can tell you for a fact: when I go to scotland to visit my family, they think I sound silly too. but in the same way as 'reverse racism' isn't a fucking thing - the difference is that it's not systemic. when I wanted to learn gaelic, my grandmother - who speaks gaelic as her own native language - told me, no, you shouldn't do that. you're an english girl. why would you want to learn a backward language like gaelic?

discrimination against non-'english' englishes is pervasive, systematic and insidious.

it is not the same as being laughed at for being 'posh'. (there's more about class and in-group sociolinguistics here, but that's for another post)

and who told you this? where is this information from? why do you think an 'essex girl' accent sounds uneducated? why do you think a northern accent sound 'honest' and 'salt of the earth'? what relationship does that have with class? why does a standard southern british english sound educated and 'intelligent'? who is in charge? who speaks on your television? whose words and accents do you hear again and again, making your policies, shaping your future? who speaks over you?

think about that, please.

and before anyone says: this is so true except for X lol - I am talking about exactly that dialect. I am talking about that accent you are mocking. I am talking about brummie english, which you think sounds funny. I'm talking about old men in the west country who you think sound like pirates, arrrrr.

(actually, pirates sound like the west country. where do you the 'pirate accent' came from? devon was the heart of smuggling country in the uk.)

so. to this person who equated a book written in scots, a minority and marginalised language, to being 'insufferable, inaccessible brogue':

and also to anyone who is from the UK, anyone who is a native english speaker, and anyone abroad, but especially those of you who think your english is 'natural', who have never had to think about it, who have never had to code-switch, who have never had to change how they sound to fit in:

it might be difficult to read - for you. it might be strange and othering - to you.

but what is 'inaccessible' to you is the way that my family speaks - your english might be 'inaccessible' to them. so why does your 'inaccessible' seem to weigh more than theirs?

and why does it bother you, that you can't understand it easily in the first go? because you have to try? or because perhaps, just perhaps, dearly beloathed author of this article, after being catered to your entire life and shown your language on screen, constantly - you are finally confronted by something that isn't written for you.

and for the non-uk people reading this. I would like you to think very carefully about what a 'british accent' means to you.

there is no such thing. let me say it louder:

THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A BRITISH ACCENT

there are a collection of accents and languages and dialects, each with different associations and stereotypes. the clever aristocrat, the honest farmer, the deceitful *racial slur*. there are accents, languages and dialects that you hear more than others because of political reasons, and there are accents, languages and dialects which are more common than others because of discrimination, violence and the path of history.

if you say 'british accent', we - in the UK - don't know exactly what you mean. much more than the US, because the english-speaking people have been here longer, we have incredibly different accents just fifty miles away from one another.

but we can guess. you probably don't mean my grandmother's second-language english - even though, by american conversations about race, she is the whitest person you could possibly find. you don't mean my brother, who sounds like a farmer.

you mean my accent. tom hiddleston's accent. benedict cumberbatch. dame judy dench. sir ian mckellen. and they are all wonderful people - but what sort of people are they, exactly? what sort of things do they have in common? why is it that you associate their way of speaking with all of the charming eloquence of 'dark academia' or high levels of education, and my family's english with being 'backward' or 'country bumpkins' or 'uneducated' or, more insidiously, 'salt-of-the-earth good honest folk'?

we are an old country with old prejudices and old classes and old oppression and old discrimination and old hate. my brother speaks with a 'farmer' west country accent; my aunt with a strong doric accent that most english people cannot understand; my father with a mockable birmingham accent; my grandmother with a gaelic accent, because despite the fact that she is from the UK, as scottish as you can get, english is not her first language.

these people exist. my grandmother is a real person, and she is not a dying relic of a forgotten time. her gaelic is not something to drool over in your outlander or braveheart or brave-fuelled scottish romanticism, the purity and goodness of the 'celt' - but there are fewer people like her now. and I would like to invite everyone to think about why that is the case.

if you don't know, you can educate yourself - look up the highland clearances, for a start, or look at the lives of anglo-romani speakers in the UK and the discrimination they face, or irish speakers in northern ireland. like many places, we are a country that has turned inward upon itself. there will always be an 'other'.

and then there's me. raised in southern england and well-educated and, however you want to call it, 'posh'. so why is it that it is my voice, and not theirs, which is considered typically british all over the world?

I think you can probably figure out that one by yourself.

when you talk about the 'british accent', this is doing one of two things. it's serving to perpetuate the myth that the only part of the UK is england, rather than four countries, and the harmful idea that it is only england in the UK that matters. (and only a certain type of people in england, at that.)

secondly, it serves to amalgamate all of the languages and accents and dialects - native or poor or immigrant or colonial - into one, erasing not only their history and importance, but even their very existence.

dearly beloathed person on the internet. I have no idea who you are. but the language scots exists. I'm sorry it's not convenient for you.

but before I go, I would like to take a moment to marvel. 'insufferable, inaccessible brogue'? what assumptions there are, behind your words!

is it 'insufferable' to want to write a story in the language you were raised in? is it 'inaccessible' to want to write a story in the shared language of your own community?

I don't think it is.

I think it takes a special sort of privilege and entitlement to assume that - the same one that assumes whiteness and Americanness and Englishness and able-bodiedness and cisness and maleness and straightness as being the 'standard' human experience, and every single other trait as being a deviance from that, an othering. that's the same entitlement that will describe Turning Red as a story about the chinese experience - but not talk about how Toy Story is a story about the white american middle class experience.

people do not exist for your ease of reading. they do not exist to be 'accessible'. and - what a strange thing, english reader, to assume all books are written for you, at all.

and despite the fact that the text that prompted this was written by one group of white people, translated into the language of another group, and critiqued by a third - this is a conversation about racism too, because it is the same sort of thinking and pervasive stereotyping which goes into how white people and spaces view Black language and language of people of colour around the world. it's about colonialism and it's about slavery and it's aboutsegregation and othering and the immigrant experience and it's about the history of britain - and my god, isn't that a violent one. it's inseparable from it. language is a tool to signify belonging, to shut people out and lock people in. it's a tool used to enforce that othering and discrimination and hate on a systemic level, because it says - I'm different from you. you're different from me. this post is focusing more on the native languages of the UK, but any question of 'correct language' must inevitably talk about racism too, because language is and has always been a signifier of group belonging, and a way to enforce power.

it is used to gatekeep, to enforce conformity, to control, to signify belonging to a particular group, to other. talking about language 'correctness' is NOT and never CAN be a neutral thing.

it reminds me of a quote, and I heard this second hand on twitter and for the life of me cannot remember who said it or exactly how it goes, but the gist of it was a queer writer addressing comments saying how 'universal' their book was, and saying - no, this is a queer book. if you want to find themes and moments in it that are applicable to your 'default' life, 'universals' of emotion and experience, go ahead. but I have had to translate things from the norm my entire life, to make them relatable for me. this time, you do the translation.

I do not speak or write scots or glaswegian, but I grew up reading it and listening to it (as well as doric and gaelic in smaller measures, which are still familiar to me but which I can understand less). for me, that passage is almost as easy to read as english - and the only reason it is slightly more difficult is because, predictably, I don't have a chance to practice reading scots very often at all. it isn't inaccessible to me.

(I was about to write: can you imagine looking at a book written in french, and scowling, saying, 'this is so insufferably foreign!' and then point out how ridiculous that would be. but then I realise - foreign film, cinema, lyrics increasingly in english, reluctance to read the subtitles, the footnotes, to look things up, to engage in any active way in any piece of media. this is an attitude which even in its most mockable, most caricature-like form, is extremely prevalent online. *deep sigh*)

because. what is 'inaccessible'? it means it is difficult for people who are 'normal'. and what is 'normal', exactly? why is a certain class of people the 'default'? could that be, perhaps, a question with very loaded and very extensive political, social and historical answers? who is making the judgement about what language is 'normal'? who gets to decide?

I'd also like to note that this applies to everyone. it doesn't matter if you are a member of an oppressed group, or five, or none, you can still engage in this kind of discrimination and stereotyping. my scottish family, who have themselves had to change the way they speak and many of them lost their gaelic because of it, routinely mock anglo-romani speakers in their local area. I have an indian friend, herself speaking english because of a history of violence and colonialism, who laughed for five minutes at the beginning of derry girls because the girls sounded so 'funny', and asked me: why did they choose to speak like that? my brother, who sounds very stereotypically rural and 'uneducated', laughs at the essex accent and says that he would never date a girl from essex. I had a classmate from wales who was passionate about welsh language rights and indigenous and minority language education but also made fun of the accent of her native-english speaking classmate from singapore. it goes on and on and on.

take the dialect/language question out of the topic, and I think this reveals a much broader problem with a lot of conversations about media, and the implicit assumptions of what being 'normal' [read: white, anglo-centric, american, male, straight, young, able-bodied, cis, etc] actually means:

if something is written about an experience I do not share, is it inaccessible? or is it just written for someone else?

so, please. next time you want to write a review about a dialect or language you don't speak, think a little before you open your mouth.

the rest of the world has to, every time.

[reiderwriter]

✍️Introduction and Masterlist✍️

About me: Hi! I'm Kacie, I'm 21, and I use she/her/any pronouns. I'm from the UK but I'm currently an English Teacher in South Korea (if you want to know more I'm totally open to conversations about it!) and this is my side blog, so I follow and respond to comments from @studykac

Writing: At this point in time. I only write for Spencer Reid. I will pass on any requests that focus on other characters because I don't currently write for them. A lot of my work is also NSFW. If you are under the age of 18, do NOT interact with any of my posts that are tagged #maturereiding - please block this tag!! When my requests are open you can request through the Ask box, or through DMs, but please keep in mind I do have a full time job, so I will do my best to get things out quickly. You can find my recommendations in the tag #reiderrecommends!

Other interests: kpop, especially Seventeen, SHINee, NCT and BTS, Criminal Minds (obv), NCIS, reading any genre of books (here's a link for my GoodReads page), Percy Jackson, languages (learning Korean currently!), English Literature, Jane Austen etc.

Requests are: CLOSED - find my request guidelines here!

Writing:

Spencer Reid x Reader NSFW

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress // 3.8k

Summary: The AC at the BAU decides to take a holiday during a summer heatwave, and when you decide the FBI’s dress code is merely a suggestion, you unwittingly catch Spencer’s eye.

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, semi-public sex, fingering, car sex, degradation, name-calling, edging, praise-kink, dumbification

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress pt. 2 // 2.4K

Summary: After a hot encounter in your car, Spencer pulls you inside your apartment hoping to give you some more relief from the heat.

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!Reader, soft Dom, oral (M receiving), pet names, degradation, face fucking, messy sex, creampie, breeding kink

Margaritas and Mistakes // Part 1 // Part 2

Summary: On a group night out, you get a little more drunk than you want to, and when Spencer shows up looking like the love of your life and not just your coworker, you realise that the margarita’s are having more of an effect than they should be.

Warnings: Suggestive language, dirty talk, heavy petting, hickeys, making out, mentions of arousal etc. (part one)

Show You What Devotion Is ❤️‍🔥

Summary: After a lustful encounter on the jet, you and Spencer decide to try out a friends-with-benefits relationship. What you didn't expect was for his sex drive to be so high, and your need for him to overpower your ability to function properly.

Warnings: So many, check the post for details.

More Than Words 🫶 // 8k

Summary: After telling a white lie to your family about your relationship status, you're forced to ask your coworker Spencer to pretend to be your boyfriend for a weekend wedding.

Warnings: Mostly fluff, penetrative sex, creampie, mentions of Spencer's childhood.

The Us That Could've Been 💔 // 5.7k

Summary: They say to get over a man, you have to get under another. Spencer isn't sure why the idea of you doing just that makes him feel so bad.

Warnings: angst, unprotected sex, creampie, spoilers for season 8, mentions of Maeve, Spencer is emotionally illiterate etc.

Unhappy Holidays 👻🦃🎄🎆// 5k

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Flirting with the FBI // 7.1k

Summary: To catch a killer, you have to first out him on the FBI's radar. By hacking their systems and flirting with Spencer Reid, of course.

Warnings: Rough sex, Dom Spencer, bimbofication, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, use of slut and good girl, more in the fic warnings.

Spencer Reid x Reader SFW

The Lightbulb Moment // 4.8k

Summary: You want Spencer all to yourself for the first few months of your relationship and he's only too happy to comply. Unfortunately, you're two dumbasses who can't keep their hands off one another.

Just Hanging Out // 3k

Summary: To kick off your vacation, you find yourself at Rossi's mansion with your team for a big summer barbeque. A hammock in the garden catches your eye, and you enlist Reid to help you have some fun in the sun.

(Not smut but highly suggestive, read at your own discretion).

Isn't She Pretty, Daddy? // 2k

Summary: You're a teacher, and you have to call in one of your students' parents to talk about their recent troubling behaviour. It's more embarrassing than you thought when Spencer Reid shows up.

Series

That's What You Get // complete 💕

Summary: After three weeks on a case in Vegas and a particularly draining phone call from your mother, you decide to take Reid up on his offer to show you the sights of Las Vegas. When you wake up the next morning, you realise that one of the sights was a 24hour Wedding Parlor, and that you're now Mrs Reid.

Genres: Fluff, smut in later chapters, angst in later chapters, happy ending.

Playlist: Me and You in 2024

Summary: One song fic a week throughout 2024!

Genres: Various, check individual chapters for specific warnings!♡

Answered Requests

(NSFW) Request inspired by Taylor Swift's False God 🙏// 2.2k

(NSFW) Request for a soft!Dom Spencer with cockwarming and breeding kink 💕 // 2k words

(NSFW) Request for Reader introducing vanilla!Spencer to a BDSM lifestyle ✨// 0.7k words

(SFW) Request for Reader kidnapped by unsub and saved by Spencer 💕 // 2.2k

(SFW) Request for pregnant Reader and Spencer who is an absolute fool for her 🌸 // 1.2k

(SFW) Request for shamelessly flirting with an oblivious Spencer 😊// 2k

(NSFW) Request for post-Maeve Spencer who uses sex as a coping mechanism 🫡//4.6k

(NSFW) Request for alt!sub!Reader meeting the team for the first time (and they totally think she's the Dom) 🤭// 1.5k

(NSFW) Request for CNC office sex with Spencer 🚫// 1k

(SFW) Request for Spencer finding out you knew Emily was alive 😿// 0.7k

(SFW) Request for training session with Spencer 🤼‍♀️// 1.8k

(SFW) Request for I Can See You inspired angst 🥺// 1.7k

(NSFW) Request for Spencer making the reader beg for it ❤️‍🔥// 1.6k

(NSFW) Request for CNC with soft!Dom Spencer - shower sex 💦// 1.3k

(NSFW) PROMPT REQUEST - Professor Reid doesn't know he's distracting the class 👓// 3k

(NSFW) Request for Sub!Spencer begging reader to dominate him 🫣// 1.7k

(NSFW) Request for Genophobic virgin!Reader ❤️‍🩹// 5k

(NSFW) Request for Professor Spencer with a jealous gf 🐺//2k

(SFW) Request for reader helping Spencer through recovery 🤕// 1k

(NSFW) Request for possessive Spencer reacting to your little black dress 💃// 2.5k

(NSFW) PROMPT REQUEST - Undercover with an "excited" Spencer 🕵‍♂️// 3.6k

(SFW) Request for playing video games with Spencer 🎮// 1k

(NSFW) PROMPT REQUEST - munch! Spencer is obsessed with you 👅// 2k

(SFW) Request for Spencer babying an oblivious reader 👶// 2k

(NSFW) PROMPT REQUEST - sharing a cold bed with Frenemy Spencer 🛌// 3.5k

(NSFW) Request for reader being distracted while Spencer is reading 📚// 1k

(NSFW) Request for Pillow fort sex with Spencer ⛺️// 2k

(NSFW) Request for car confession and oral with Spencer 🚗// 1.7k

(NSFW) Request for dancing the night away with Spencer 💃// 2.5k

(NSFW) Request for the morning after Spencer loses his V-Card 😶// 0.7k

(NSFW) Request for reader confessing to Spencer when he's in his anthrax shower 🚿// 0.7k

(NSFW) Request for Spencer finding readers unusual sensitive area 🤝// 3.5k

(NSFW) Request for Spencer and Hotch!Reader secret relationship 🤐// 6k

(SFW) Request for reader being jealous of Spencer and Lila 🤽‍♀️// 2.1k

(NSFW) Request for gun kink 🔫//3k

(SFW) Request for Shy! Spencer and Flirty!Reader 🫣 // 2.3k

[itsphoenix0724]

Save A Horse (Cassian x Reader)

Summary: After a long hard day of work all Cas wants is a cold beer and a pretty girl.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: SMUT, sexual language about women's bodies

A/N: I love a good cowboy au, and I feel like my boy Cas fits that vibe the best. I'm sorry I've been MIA, but I'm trying to get back into it I promise. Thank you all for your patience. Much love <3

Cassian takes off his hat as he walks into the bar, hair slicked back against his forehead after a long day in the sun.  He appreciates the job Rhys’s father offers him, but he puts him through the wringer every day from sun up to sun down. Friday nights at Rita’s are always packed, and tonight is no exception, especially with the new addition of the mechanical bull. Cassian only has to step up to the bar and a beer is already set in front of him. He takes a sip, letting the drink cool him from the inside out before he turns to survey the dance floor. It’s packed with girls square dancing and some just drunkenly bumping and grinding with the person closest to them. He looks out across the floor watching the buckle bunnies saunter up to every available ranch hand they set their eyes on. Nights like these are some of his favorites, he just lets the girls flock to him so he can take his pick of the litter to get lost in for the night. 

That’s when he sees you, red cowboy boots in all your glory on the back of that mechanical bull.  

The bull is supposed to be impossible to stay on, he knows because he laughed about it with Rita on the first night she had it installed. Rhys, Az, and himself had spent the entire night watching people get thrown into the inflatable pit around it, laughing so hard they almost tipped their barstools.

But you were staying on the bull, and Cas is absolutely entranced. Your hips rock back and forth with the bull's motion, countering every single buck and jerk the machine used to try to throw you. You even had the balls to take one hand off the reigns and Cassian almost fell to his knees right there when you flipped yourself around and started to ride it backward. His eyes wander down to the tight denim of your cut-off shorts, your ass looks good enough for him to bite. 

Every single eye in the bar is fixed on you because no one has ever stayed on the bull this long. 

The machine starts to slow down, the rocking of your hips becoming more sensual as you begin to follow the beat of the country song blasting across the speakers. Everyone watches with rapt attention as the bull finally stops, before erupting into cheers that shake the very foundation of the building. You dismount, bowing with a flourish as you return to your group of friends. Most of the guys in the bar are approaching you, but Cassian is already tucking his hat back on and barreling over. Any other guy who had thought he stood a chance backed off just as quickly when Cassian sent them a glare that could level mountains. 

He didn’t care what anyone said, he had to have you tonight, tonight you were his and his alone. 

“That was incredible.” Cassian rumbles, coming up behind you, a quick wink and smile from him sends your friends fluttering across the dance floor laughing behind their hands. 

“Well thank you,” you drawl, red lips pulling back into a feline grin. “And you are?” one of your eyebrows cocks, eyes lazily trailing up and down his form. 

“Cassian Prince,” he tips his hat and watches as you smirk, “and can I have your name or should I just call you Beautiful?” you laugh incredulously, before rolling your eyes. Cassian’s confidence wavers for a second, that line normally works, but he presses on. “Can I buy you a drink?” You hum in contemplation, making a good show of tipping your head in thought. 

“No thanks, maybe next time Cowboy.” You pat him on the shoulder before sauntering away from him and disappearing back into the crowd. Cassian watches those red boots walk away dumbfounded, but sulks back to his spot against the bar. 

Cassian drinks until closing time, eyes still prowling the crowd but dissatisfied with every potential prospect. Nothing compared to the rush you gave him when you were on that bull. 

Rita’s is emptying, and Cas knocks back another shot of whiskey as Rita cleans the glasses for the night. On the nights he doesn’t go home with someone he usually stays to ensure she gets to her car okay even though he doesn’t think that anyone in this town would be dumb enough to try anything with Rita. 

“Hey Jackass, leave me the hell alone!” It’s shouted across the bar in such alarm that it raises the hairs on the back of Cassian’s neck. He moves faster than his brain can keep up with, tipsy feet carrying him to the bar's back corner. Cas finds that the distressed voice he heard belongs to you, and you’re currently facing up with a guy about twice your height, eyes locked on him with a glare that could make the devil flinch. 

“Come on baby, I saw you on that bull,” 

The stranger is pretty big, but Cas still has a couple of inches on him.

“I think the lady said to leave her alone.” Cassian’s voice rumbles, deep and dark like a thunderstorm. Your eyes blaze with lightning in return. The stranger turns and shoves Cassian on the shoulder, his adrenaline spikes, the song in his blood finally happy for a fight. His fist clenches and before he can blink it slams into the stranger's face. Cassian looks at you again as you freeze in shock, the stranger knocked out cold on the floor between your feet. 

“HEY!” Rita’s voice screams across the bar, “Enough! Cassian get cleaned up, I’ll handle this.” She waves a disgusted at the man collapsed on the ground and you silently grab Cas’s hand to lead him into the bar’s tiny bathroom. 

The two of you share the space across the sink, you run his hand under cold water before gently dabbing at the broken skin of his knuckles with a paper towel. 

“You know,” you start, a teasing lilt to your voice “no one’s ever punched a guy out for me before.” 

“It’s not gentlemanly to disrespect women” Cassian rumbles eyes watching the way your hands curl around the callous skin of his palm. Maybe it’s the leftover adrenaline from the punch he threw, but the only thing he can think of is that your skin is so soft, hands unburdened by the roughness of labor. You lift your head and Cas can feel the ghost of your exhale skate across his lips. He doesn’t know who leans in first, but your lips taste like the limes and salt used for tequila shots. 

He tries his best to chase the hidden burn as your tongue traces over the seam of his lips. 

You’re surprisingly dominant in the way your tongue traces over his with a sensuality Cassian thinks runs in your blood. Cas lets himself be pulled in like a ship out in the ocean, flowing and bellowing with the tide that is your kiss. Those damned hands start undoing the buttons on his flannel, but he doesn’t let you get too far. “We should get out of here,” he heaves, your chests rising and falling to the same beat, he leads you with a hand to the small of your back out of the bar over to his truck. Cassian opens the door to the driver's seat and lifts you onto the seat before his mouth meets yours again. 

Your hands feel like wildfire as they trace down the hard muscles of his back, his trail sends lightning strikes down the curve of your thighs. 

Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt again, and Cassian can feel himself getting harder every time one gets undone. His flannel drifts down to the asphalt that covers the parking lot and your hands against his bare chest might be the closest thing to heaven he’ll ever get. His lips bite dark marks into the curve of your neck, and the moan you release bounces off the curve of the windshield and comes back to rattle his bones. Your hands try to fond Cas’s hair but they run into the wide brim of his hat. The two of you pull apart and the fire in your eyes makes his old jeans get tighter. Your red lipstick is smeared but smile no less wild as you take off his hat and place it onto your head, as triumphant as a queen with a crown. 

“Do you know what that means?” the low timbre of Cassian’s voice sounds more animal than human, his pupils blown wide as his eyes try to swallow you whole. With a laugh, you tip his hat at him and Cas drops to his knees this time. He makes quick work of the belt holding your shorts up, popping the buckle, and sliding the denim down your legs until they hit the concrete below the truck with a metallic thud. He devours you quickly, wasting no time to delve his tongue between your thighs. Your head tosses back with a moan as you begin to grind against his face with the same ferocity that you used to ride the bull earlier. Cassian slips a finger inside of you and lets out a loud groan at the feeling of you clenching around him, he can barely wait to get inside you. You finally release with a broken cry and collapse against his truck's old leather bench seat. You sit up on your elbows, chest heaving up and down with hungry eyes, and Cassian claims your mouth again. Large broad hands drag up your jaw and into your hair, scraping with such delight you almost purr like a cat. Your hands practically rip his belt open, his hips bucking into your hand when you rub hard against his length. Eagerly, you pull Cas into the truck after you and he barely manages to pull the door shut behind you. He kisses his way down your body, worshiping every inch and curve he finds before making his way back up. Lining himself up he pushes himself into you. Your hands claw down his back with a wild ferocity and Cassian loves the bite your fingernails leave. He gives you a few minutes to adjust to him, but when you start squirming underneath him and running your tongue along the shell of his ear, he snaps. He fucks into you with pure abandon, white-hot pleasure shooting between the both of you like a live wire. However, you–like everything else you’ve done tonight, continue to surprise him. You flip Cas over in the seats and ride him until his eyes almost roll back into his head. He never wants to leave this truck, the efforts of your passions fogging up the windows. You tumble over the edge walls squeezing him in a vice grip, and he’s almost embarrassed by it, but with a broken whimper, Cassian manages to lift you off of him and finish all over your stomach. You collapse against his chest, leaving red trailed kisses along the length of his jugular. After recovering, you retrieve your shorts from the ground, pulling them back up your thighs Cas watches with his eyes half-lidded in orgasmic bliss. He tracks the movement of your finger as you wipe away the smeared lipstick from the corners of your mouth. 

“I’ll see you around cowboy.” Your sultry voice echoes out, reigniting the problem in Cassian’s pants when you swing the door to his truck shut and he watches your hips sway as you walk to your own car. 

Cassian has to sit in his truck for another fifteen minutes to recover and its when he runs his hands through his tousled hair that he realizes one thing. 

You’ve walked off with his hat.

[skteezcursed]

❝0025❞ — j.wy.

PAIRING. jung wooyoung x fem!reader.

GENDER AND WARNINGS. smut. friends to lovers. kinda idiots in love. switch woo. switch reader. teasing. strip poker. mentions of alcohol. pet names (pretty boy, bunny, love, good girl, etc). praising. p in v. unprotected sex (please, do NOT!). oral (mostly fem receiving). creampie. kinda breast play. mostly filth, i'm sorry. lmk if i forgot anything!.

SYNOPSIS. you and wooyoung have always had a thing for each other, but never acted on it, until one day he gets tired of waiting once he notices you want him just as bad as he wants you.

RATING. R (+18) - MDNI.

WORD COUNT. 3,3k.

NOTES. english is not my first language. part of the ateezchella especial. bye ♡.

IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraying how any of the people quoted here are in real life.

CREDS. dividers by cafekitsune ♡

The idea that something could be so infuriating and exhilarating at the same time was confusing to say the least, but that was how you felt whenever Jung Wooyoung would look at you, the eyes that held a teasing and menacing gaze at the same time they burned to your skin as if you were the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. In all truth, you were, and he was expecting to make that known to you that night as he had managed to convince you to play a game of strip poker, the drinks you had earlier not helping one bit at keeping your judgment clear. 

It’s not that you were bad at card games, no, you were amazing at them, except when you had something – or several – to drink, which was now the case. Although Wooyoung wasn’t too far behind you in being intoxicated by the alcohol, he seemed to have kept his cool, almost sober as the cards were dropped and clothes started to fill in the floor you two were in, thanking heavens that you were alone with him at the comfort of your house, at the same time trying to ignore how the pool that was forming in between your legs kept getting more annoying as the time passed and your clothes were on the floor while he still had his pants and one sock on.

  “Oh, look at that…,” the grin that took over his lips made you want nothing more than to rip it out as you groaned loudly looking at the cards he was showing, winning again. “C’mon pretty, take some piece off.”

“I fucking hate you,” his laugh reverberated through the room as he watched you take one of your socks, trying your best to push away the cold that involved you as you were only in your lingerie. Sensing the disappointing look Wooyoung sent your way, you hid your smile trying to calm your heart. “Be ready to take off some pieces next time, you are gonna lose!”

The smirk was quickly back into his lips as he picked the cards shuffling them around his hands, as you forced your eyes to not stare at them, not to imagine how good they always looked on your thigh or how flustered you always were whenever Wooyoung was bold enough to touch you a bit longer and in a daring way. The truth was, you’ve always had a thing for Wooyoung, if you were honest, how could you not? He was the perfect mix of a gentleman and a menace, but never going as far as making you uncomfortable, whenever a slight hint that you were annoyed by his antics, he would stop and apologize to you. The fact he was a touchy person didn’t help keep your feelings at bay as you grew closer. 

As the cards were thrown, you tried your best to keep your poker face and legs crossed – the latter so he wouldn’t be able to see the wet patch on your underwear. Wooyoung was already cocky enough about all the attention he got, although he got shy, you knew he enjoyed teasing the living shit out of you whenever someone would compliment him or indicate they wanted him, but curiously enough, he never gave them another second of his attention, just politely declined and kept on with whatever it was that your group was doing, also leaning closer to you, even if it was to tease how many gorgeous women and men wanted him. 

Although you wanted to deny, you loved how he would decline all the offers that came his way. You weren’t much of a jealous type, but you were definitely a possessive one, as much as you wanted to tell your brain you shouldn’t be like that towards Wooyoung. Whenever he would tease about that, you’d play it out by saying that’s how you were with all your friends, receiving a laugh from Wooyoung as you felt his hands linger on your body, sometimes he would talk back against your ear, others he would pull you closer with some excuse, and on rare occasions he would just stay like that, fingers burning on your skin as the tip of his fingers would lightly caress your exposed skin. 

“YES! Told you I’d win!” You cheer with excitement as you draw your cards laughing loudly at his pout as his eyes bore into your figure and you notice a small smirk appear on his lips before he gets up, eyeing you with that menacing glare. “No, I don’t care what you say, I’ll win the next ones too and -”

As his fingers went to the buttons of his pants, your voice stopped at once, eyes ignoring the apparent tent that was there. Once his fingers found the zipper, your eyes averted to the ground, specifically to his feet that still had one sock, which brought an inquisitive look to your face, turning into shock as his pants fell at his feet before he took them out completely kicking them somewhere along with his shirt, the sock joining it not long after, bringing your eyes to finally look up, straight into his face, as the tongue was in between his lips along with the growing grin that made you clench your thighs together. 

The movement did not go unnoticed as you saw Wooyoung’s eyebrows rise and fall before he took a few steps closer to you, noticing finally how you had your legs up to your chest cursing at yourself as you realized he probably saw the wet patch in your underwear. As he lowered himself in front of you, the maximum you would allow your eyes to wander off was up to his chest, the tattoo on his ribs finally visible for you to see, for you to touch, to –

“My eyes are up here bunny,” luckily, you only clenched your own cunt and not your legs as the pet name reached your ears, as your eyes found his predatory ones, the smirk with a slight gap between his lips, allowing you to see his tongue moving inside his mouth… God, you needed it in – “still need to go a bit further up,” his finger found your chin bringing your eyes to finally meet his and stay there. “That’s it, I like when you look at me, especially when it’s like that.”

“Fuck off,” you push his hand away and turn your legs around in front of you, still covering the growing wetness between your legs, making Wooyoung chuckle before he returns to his position, “why didn’t you take your socks off, you are supposed to only take one piece of clothing.”

“Are you complaining, love?”

You rolled your eyes as you pointed to the cards in between you two, ignoring his grin as his fingers nimbly organized the cards, ignoring how his eyes were fixed on you.

“You're scared you will lose?” 

The scoff that came from Wooyoung made you finally eye him as he finished organizing the cards. “I was planning on suggesting something for the grand finale.”

“You definitely scared to lose though, you were the idiot who took two pieces of clothing, while -”

“You would do the same if you had noticed how hard my cock is as it only got harder as I saw how wet your cunt is,” that shut you up at the same instant, the deck of cards being left on the coffee table as his eyes never left you, the smirk growing as his tongue wet his lips, sitting cross legged in front of you as his hands found his thigh, chuckling as he noticed you finally noticing his hard cock against his underwear. “Are you still gonna pretend you don’t find me attractive and that you don’t want to fuck me as badly as I want to fuck you?”

  “Wooyoung, look -”

“What do I have to do for you to understand I don’t see you as a friend and that I want you to be mine?” As your eyes averted from his, you could hear the movement and see it from the peripheral view, only to get his hands on your chin, making you eye him as he towered above you, trying to ignore how his hard clothed cock was inches away from you. “I never wanted to be just your friend and I sure as fuck ain’t blind not to notice how you react to me, so are you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you senseless before becoming officially mine, or you still gonna be fucking brat?”

Instead of responding you palmed his clothed cock watching as his mouth opened with a gasp as you squeezed gently the length, his hands moving from your chin to caress your cheek as you smirked at each other.

“Tell me again how badly you want me, Wooyoungie.”

As you said that, both your hands moved to the waistband of his underwear, pulling slowly as you sustained eye contact with him, until you noticed that the tip of his red angry leaking cock was finally seen. Making you eye him before moving your face closer to his hip bone, leaving a tender kiss there as you slowly moved towards his cockhead, watching as it twitched slightly, his chest going up and down rapidly, making you giggle before your lips touched the tip making him groan loudly. 

  “Fuck you are gonna torture me?”

“I told you what I want, if you give it me, I’ll give it to you,” another kiss on his cockhead makes him throw his head back groaning before his hand go to the back of your head, your hair getting tangled within his fingers, “it’s a fair trade don’t you think, pretty boy?”

“Fuck I knew you were gonna be my end the day I laid eyes on you, bunny,” at that, you finally took the rest of his underwear, making his cock slap you in the face, making you giggle before holding it with one of your hands, putting just the tip inside, feeling his precum on your tongue before squeezing lightly the base of his cock. “Fuck, you are such a fucking tease, the way you’d sway your hips, how you always wear something that shows skin just to have my hands on you trying to take those fuckers who just want to fuck you away -”

“But you are one of the fuckers who want to fuck me, aren’t you Wooyoungie?”

“The difference between me and them my dear bunny, is that I can fuck you senseless and you’d still come begging for more, because you are just as desperate for my cock as I am for your cunt.”

At that he forced your head down his cock making you gag as you took him all in, tapping his thigh after a while, feeling him pull your head back and up, as his lips finally met yours. It was sloppy, desperate, lustful, it was all you both wanted and more and you felt him pulling you closer, his other hand found your waist going up your back to unclasp your bra, but never leaving your lips, not even when he felt your hardened nipples against his chest, pulling you closer to his, letting his cock press against your stomach.

You tried to put your hand in between you two, but he wouldn’t let you, keeping you firm against him as his tongue explored your mouth, God the amount of time you imagine those lips against yours, leaving wet traces until it finally found itself between your legs with your hands on his hair as he ate you out. 

“Be a good girl and sit on the couch, legs spread open,” he was as out of breath as you were, yet you complied taking off your bra first, but he stopped you as your hands went to your panties to pull them off. “Did I say something about taking these off?”

“Then how are you gonna eat me out properly?”

“Oh, my sweet bunny,” he hovered over you on the couch, the smirk forever present as you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you, “I’m gonna make you scream my name in no time once I get a taste of you, and then I’ll fuck into oblivion until you beg me to stop.”

“Is that a promise?”

The doe eyes you sent him not matching the secret wish that question held, making his smirk grow as he pulled you in for another kiss, one of his hands going all the way from your waits to your knee as his other, found your breasts, pinching the hardened nipple making you moan against the kiss before he slapped it before massaging it all over again, making you whimper against his lips.

“It’s a promise since the moment I first saw you,” his lips lingering closely to your own as you felt his hand squeeze your thigh as his other moved up to your neck cupping your face pulling you in for another tender and innocent kiss before he started moving downwards, leaving a trail of open mouth kisses on your jaw and neck before reaching the valley of your breasts. “It’s a promise from the moment I saw your tits almost slipping out of one of those dresses you wore for the first night out we had as a group, where I almost had to fight a few guys who wanted what was mine.”

“I thought I wasn’t yours yet.”

“You were always mine, you just didn’t want to accept it,” his mouth fully involved your breast as his hand massaged the other, feeling the little random bites that would sure make their appearance in the morning, but you couldn’t care less as your fingers found his hair moaning every time he sucked and bit your breast, “so pretty like that and I barely touched you, I wonder how pretty you look all fucked out.”

“Why don’t you start by putting your mouth to use somewhere else?”

“Your wish is my comment, love,” he kisses you one last time before the wet trail of kisses happens all over again, slowly but surely accompanied by small bites here and there as Wooyoung makes sure to hold you down and spread your legs open as he gets closer to your clothed core. “Fuck, you are so wet, I wonder how much you can last.”

Combination of his words, eye contact, fingers gently taking the edges of your panties and the small kiss he leaves on top of your clothed aching clit, makes your hips jolt up, bringing a chuckle to Wooyoung’s mouth as he finally takes your panties of, a this line connecting your panties to your soaking core makes him curse before completely throwing your panties somewhere along with the other clothes. “Fuck, I can’t wait to taste you and make you cum on my mouth.”

Before you could say anything, his hot breath collided with your sensitive clit, a tender and contained kiss being left there as you could sense the chuckle Wooyoung left at your whimpers, reverberated through your body before your fingers found his head pulling him into your soaked cunt. His hands firmly on the back of your thigh spreading them open, your knees up to your chest as his mouth fully involved your clit, the kitty licks making you moan loudly and arch your back, feeling the small laugh he let out reverberate through your body once more.

“Woo, fuck-,” you cried as he lowered his head, his tongue at your entrance as his nose would meet your clit sending shocks of electricity and warmth through your body, “fuck, just like that Woo, fu-fuck, your ton-tongue, I can’t I-”

“Don’t you dare hold back, I wanna hear you, bunny.”

As two fingers entered you and his mouth closed on your clit sucking it, a scream left you. His fingers were quick, curling from time to time inside you making you squirm under him, as his arm could barely hold you still, but he honestly didn’t care, the sight of you shaking under him, your taste on his mouth, the feeling of your cunt clenching his fingers was sending him into overdrive and he wasn’t even inside you yet. 

The first wave hit you like a truck, the guttural sound that left your mouth followed by a scream as your fingers pulled Wooyoung’s hair was enough for him to finally let go of your wet folds. Once you felt his face away from you, your eyes met with his face glistening with your juice as he pushed his two fingers into his mouth, ravishing on your taste before pulling you in for another kiss. Your hands quickly ran down his chest to find his hard cock, before he stopped you.

“But Woo-”

“We’ll have plenty of that, unfortunately, if I don’t get inside of you right now, I’m afraid I’ll combust,” as you pulled him in for another kiss, your heels found his ass and thigh, pulling him into you, your hand finding his hard leaking cock and putting it at your entrance, making him whine against your lips as you squeezed him with your hand as to pull him closer to where both of you needed. “Fuck, I’m gonna break you, bunny.”

“You can break me as many times as you want if you are willing to put me back together.”

“God you are so perfect,” as his lips found yours with a tender and borderline innocent kiss, his cock pushed through your gummy walls making you gasp and moan against his lips before he hid his face on the crook of your neck, biting the base as he slowly entered your tight hole. “Tell me when I can move.”

A small shake of your head was all he needed before he started progressively thrust into you, his hips finding yours at a rapid pace as both your moans and grunts filled the house along with the sounds of your bodies. Wooyoung was a bit over average size, but he was girthy, so you were still getting used to his size as he fucked you, the head of his cock hitting your cervix every so often. 

His hands pulled your legs towards your chest making him hit a whole new spot inside you, making you scream at the feeling before his thumb start rubbing circles on your clit, your legs already shaking, mouth open, uncontrollable moans leaving both of you as his thrusts became sloppier, his kisses were messy and you clenched so much around him that ripped profanity after profanity from his lips. 

“Woo, I’m coming, fuck, please don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, it feels so good!”

“Cum with me, love, cum all over my cock,” as if magic, his words hitting your core sending you to combust under him, shaking and screaming as you felt your orgasm reach you, feeling his warm seeds inside you as his thrusts faltered before coming to a stop. Your legs were numb, but your arms quickly wrapped around him, your nails scratching his scalp softly as his body weight held you against the couch. “You are just as perfect as I imagined you to be.”

Your giggle came with the small kisses and love bites he left on your neck before pulling out of you and placing some distance between you two as he watched his seeds leak from your fluttering hole, a smirk on his lips before his lips met with your clit making you cry a moan.

“Wooyoung, please…!”

“Sorry love,” his face was quick to go up to yours, a kiss on your lips as you both smiled at the current situation. “So, can I ask you to be officially mine, now?”

“I was yours from the moment we met, Wooyoungie.”

“That’s my good little bunny.”

general masterlist here ♡

network: @cultofdionysusnet ♡ @atzhouse ♡

©skteezcursed (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[sailoryooons]

Red | KNJ | (m)

☾ Pairing: Werewolf!Namjoon x f. reader

☾ Summary: For as long as you can remember, your village has been relatively normal. But when people begin to turn up dead right after a group of newcomers arrive, pieces of your past start to fall into place, and something feels familiar - particularly the quiet man who can't take his eyes off of you.

☾ Word Count: 21,148

☾ Genre: Supernatural, thriller, smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Fantasy violence, light depections of murder and animal attacks, mentions of gore, discussions about community displacement and violence, Yoongi is an asshole, animal attacks, depictions of blood, tbh reader and Namjoon don’t know each other THAT well when they fuck so idk, implied protecting from a far but not in a stalker way, explicit language, intense sequences of fear and anxiety, reader is attacked by a wolf, there is a mention of animals being hurt/killed but not in explicit details, dead bodies, arson, sexually explicit content invluding vaginal fingering, nipple play, vaginal penetration, a little bit of mention of fluids but not really. 

☾ Published: Sunday, January 21 2024

☾ A/N: I wish I could explain to you how this got to be so long. I wrote it over several weeks and each day I picked it back up, I just kept adding dialogue and scenery and setting. Like half of this isn’t even Namjoon and reader reacting - what was I doing? I wish I knew! I hope you like my spin on Red Riding Hood anyway! I tried to do this in a way that it doesn’t seem creepy that Namjoon was silently looking out for reader but like… I could understand if someone finds it creepy I am so sorry lmfao.  I did read through this to edit but I 100% missed stuff because I'm a rougher editor and this is unbeta'd.

☾ A/N 2: This is a Red Riding Hood Retelling that is similar in vibe to the 2011 Red Riding Hood movie directed by Catherine Hardwicke.

 Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Make Me Your Villain Collab | Taglist

Father always said not to go into the woods at night. Like him, though, the woods have always called to you, feeling like a second home. You’ve never been able to explain it, and you’ve stopped trying to. 

It’s a little chilly outside, the first breath of harvest air nipping at your skin. In a few weeks, it will be freezing outside, forcing you into cloaks and furs. 

Grass crunches beneath your feet as you slip through the small yard and toward the tree line. Your house already sits at the edge of the village, the dark trees stretching high above the rooftops. Soon the trees will be dusted in snow, but for now, they sway gently in the autumn breeze, turned silver by the moonlight. 

You’ve always loved the woods. The sounds of the crickets singing and rabbits dashing underfoot are calming, the smell of sticky pine and fresh air invigorating. You especially love them at night, hidden beneath boughs and walking through the shafts of moonlight that slip through the trees. 

The best part is that you don’t feel so alone out here. There is a feeling you cannot place each time you enter the woods, like you’re a little closer to discovering yourself. You’ve been chasing that feeling since you were a little girl, hungry for finding whatever it is that drives you out here. 

Hands tucked into your pockets, you walk the same route you always follow. It isn’t deep into the woods - you aren’t silly enough to believe you’re safe alone in the dark - but it’s enough of a walk to clear your head. 

Howls echo up into the night, a wolf pack on their hunt. The sound of them makes the hair on your arms stand on end.

The wolves don’t come very close to the village anymore since the vicious wolf hunts when you were barely old enough to remember them. The relationship between the men of your home and the wolves in the wood is violent, a chill cooling your skin every time they’re mentioned by one of your neighbors. 

A terrible howl splits the night. You feel your body go cold with fear, warmth leaching out of you as you press yourself against a tree, heart in your throat. The sound is something like a howl laced with utter anguish, chilling you down to the marrow. It tapers off into a whimper before falling silent again. 

Pressed against the tree, you wait. Your heart is beating so harshly that it feels like you might vomit in fear. Soft whimpering drifts on the wind. You hold your breath and strain your ears. It almost sounds like an injured dog.

It tugs at your heartstrings. You bite your lip, weighing your options. The noise sounded like it came from the south a little off of your path and toward the ravine that splits the part of the woods that is relatively safe from the deeper part where the animals are more lethal and more frequent. You could easily find your way back if you made it to the ravine, and as the whimpering vanishes entirely, you can’t help but imagine an animal in pain. 

The most difficult part about working with Dr. Kim at the veterinary clinic is always the animals that he can’t fix. You’ve held the hands of loved ones who couldn’t save their aging dogs, and you’ve hushed lame horses as Dr. Kim prepared draughts to send them to sleep and then to death. 

Pivoting, you turn and march toward the initial sound. It may perhaps be the single worst idea you’ve ever had, but you suddenly don’t care. You’ve worked with Dr. Kim enough to know how to triage animal wounds, and the thought of leaving something alone and suffering replaces any sort of fear you originally had. 

You’re careful not to lose your footing as the ground slopes steadily as you get closer to the ravines and canyons of the south side. Leaves shift underneath your feet as you go. It feels overly loud in a forest that is suddenly so quiet, only filled with the softest sound of labored breathing.

A small dip in the ground catches you off guard. You gasp, a scream stuck in your throat as you lose your footing and slide down the slope, your back and ass hitting the ground hard as you slide, leaves hissing underneath you. You scramble to grab a hold of something, but the hill isn’t very high and you hit the bottom of it quickly.

Heart pounding, you lay in the damp leaves for a second, panting, hand pressed to your heart as it rattles under your palm. Just as the fear settles down, a growl makes your blood run cold. Slowly, you begin to turn your face toward the left. You realize you’ve slid down a dell, and a few yards from you is a large, shivering form covered in fur.

You blink. Once. Twice. You realize that the large mound of fur is a creature - a wolf. It lays on the ground shaking, a ride of jet black hair standing up on its spine, hackles raised. The wolf’s ears are pinned back and its yellow eyes are wild, nearly consumed by the dark pupils drinking you in. Its teeth are bared, foam and drool lining pink gums as it snares, nose twitching. 

It’s the biggest wolf you’ve ever seen. You can’t move. You can only stare at it, wondering why it continues to snarl and stare at you, but not move. Your eyes rove its trembling form from maw to tail, and you realize its front leg is wet and held at an odd angle.

“Oh,” you gasp, realizing that the wolf’s foot is stuck in a claw trap. “I’m so sorry. I… can I help you?”

The wolf stops growling for a moment as if it understands. You stare with wide eyes, not daring to move as it assesses you. It leans toward you and sniffs, the sound of snuffing loud in the silence of the dell. For a few moments, you just watch as the beast regards you. 

Then, it chuffs and looks at its own foot, whining. You sit up slowly in amazement. The creature watches you with what you can only describe as a caution. You get up carefully and make your way toward the wolf. It watches your every movement. It can surely smell your fear as you get a few feet away, crouching down with your hands held out to let it know you’re not going to cause harm. 

You pause, waiting for permission to examine the wolf’s foot. It gazes at you and for a moment, you lose yourself in that burning, golden gaze. The wolf’s eyes are so human that it’s hard to see it as a simple beast. There is something alive and intelligent there.

As if sensing that you’re waiting for the all-clear, the wolf chuffs and lowers its head toward its foot, gesturing. You smile a little at that, marveling at the communication skills. Carefully, you look at the trap around the wolf’s foot. It’s a metal contraption that is pressure-engaged, with metal teeth. You cringe seeing the red on matted fur and metal.

“You must have stepped on the pressure plate,” you tell the wolf, though it probably doesn’t understand. You gesture to the round plate at the center of the trap. “It would have been in a circle and when stepped on, snapped closed like jaws.”

The wolf whines and bows its head. You wince. “They’re really strong,” you admit, chewing on your lip. “I don’t think I can pull it apart all the way, but I might be able to open it enough just for a moment for you to pull out your leg. Can you do that?” 

A huff. Somehow, you think if it could, the wolf might roll its eyes. Your mouth twitches in an almost smile as you get onto your knees, wiping sweaty hands on your pants. This close to the beast, you realize just how large it is. 

“This is going to hurt,” you insist. “Please… Please don’t bite me, okay? I want to help you.” 

The wolf lowers its head until it's lying on the ground, gold eyes watching you. Its muscles are tense and the hair along the ridge of its back is still standing, afraid and alert. 

“Okay. I’m just… I’m just going to touch the trap and try to get a grip first, okay?” The wolf doesn’t answer. It blinks at you, waiting. Licking your lips, you whisper, more to yourself than anything, “Okay, I can do this.”

Slowly, you reach out toward the wolf’s injured foot. You flick your gaze over to the wolf looking for a reaction. It just watches you, though you feel tension. The metal is wicked cold to the touch. You hiss and the creature flinches a little, a whistle-whine escaping its nose. You mutter an apology, fingers pressing to the ridges of the cold metal. 

It’s slippery with blood. You chew on your lip, prodding your finger in the space between the metal teeth on the edges where it’s not clamped around the wolf’s paw. You wiggle your finger a little, testing the strength of the closed jaws of the trap. It doesn’t budge and you curse. 

Sweat beads on the back of your neck, freezing in the cool air. You lift your other hand, very carefully trying to find a good grip on either side of the jaws to pry them open. The movement jostles the trap a little, the wolf snarling in pain. You flinch and rip your hands away, looking at it. Gold eyes burn and the wolf huffs, as though telling you to be more careful.

“Sorry,” you mutter. “I’m nervous and it’s hard to get a grip on it.” The wolf snorts. You glare at it. “I’m sorry, do you want to do this instead?” Your only answer is a rumble as it looks the other direction. “That’s what I thought.”

Sighing, you turn your attention back to the metal. Anyone a little stronger and older could probably pull it open. Seokjin for sure could - even Hoseok who is as old as you are, but plenty stronger. You try not to think about how weak you are, and instead wiggle your fingers through the gaps in the teeth.

The cool metal stings your hands. It’s not a great grip and your fingers are placed in bad positioning due to the teeth of the trap. Taking in a big breath, you try to pull the metal jaws apart. 

Nothing happens and you let your breath out, panting lightly as you stop trying to pull. The wolf flicks its tale but makes no other sound. With the way you’re gripping the jaws, you realize that pulling it apart is going to be difficult. It would rely on your forearms to peel the metal jaws backward… But if you were to push down and push apart, you could use your body weight as an extra boost. It would be pushing the jaws apart from above instead of trying to pry them apart with sheer strength.

Leaning high on your knees, you position yourself straight over the trap, your weight settling in on your forearms. You take another deep breath and this time when you pull, you push your weight down on the trap. For a second, it seems like it’s not going to give. You hiss through your teeth, muscles clenching, fingers burning as your skin presses against the metal as hard as you can stand it.

Then, the jaw opens a little. You grind your teeth harder, the ache in your arms growing as you push as hard as you can. Your forearms are trembling. You feel the vein throbbing in your neck and forehead. Just when you think you’re going to fail, the jaws give way again. You growl, feeling a surge of energy go through you at the small victory and you shove your body weight down on it hard. The springs creak a little and open more.

Little by little, the trap opens up. Your vision pulses red as you pant, strength waning. And then it’s like you hit the let-off point of the contraption, pushing it enough that the rest of the way it just falls open. You let go of the trap and the wolf yanks its leg from it. It now lies open and bloody as you collapse on the ground next to it, breathing hard, breath misting the air. 

Your heart beats in your ears, pulse thrumming in your neck wildly. For a second, you forget all about the wolf. You laugh up to the dark trees, a giddy feeling shooting through you. You did it, even though you didn’t think you would be able to. 

A dark presence alerts you. Slowly, you turn your head to face the wolf. It’s standing almost above you, looking more imposing than it did before. You swallow hard, mouth going dry as it blinks down at you. It favors the injured leg, but stands nonetheless, watching you. 

“Please don’t kill me,” you whisper, limbs trembling not only with exhaustion but fear. 

The wolf doesn’t kill you at all. Instead, it leans its head down and presses its cold, wet nose to your arm. You flinch, squeezing your eyes shut for a minute. Then the beast chuffs, making you peak at it. When you meet its gold eyes, you get the sense it is vaguely amused.

“Oh,” you breathe, relief sagging your aching body. “Cool. You’re not going to kill me.”

Standing, you realize that the wolf is still taller than you. You tilt your head upward, staring. There’s no way this is a normal creature, but you don’t know what else it could possibly be. You recall the legends of werewolves and dire wolves told by the men of your town, but you’re unsure if those are real. 

“Let’s take care of this,” you mutter, grabbing a branch and jamming it into the pressure plate of the trap. It snaps shut with a loud clang, snapping the branch, but otherwise ineffective now that it’s re-sprung. The wolf flinches and whines at the sound, no doubt remembering the feeling of the instrument on its leg. “Sorry.” 

Silence stretches out over the woods, the night growing deeper and cooler. You shiver, rubbing your hands up and down your arms as you turn to the wolf, which watches you keenly. 

“Will you be okay?” the question comes out as a whisper. The wolf huffs and steps forward, pressing its snout to your head. It’s cold and wet, making you shiver as it snuffs against your skin. “Good. I um - should start climbing this hill.”

It swivels its head and turns, waiting. You grin, realizing it will accompany you back up, at least. Though injured, the wolf is able to walk with three legs, the wounded leg lifted off the ground. Its gait is awkward and hobbled, but the two of you make it up the hill together, your breathing labored. 

At the top, moonlight shines through the trees and you both pause. A series of howls goes up in the night, startling you. The wolf looks up, ears twitching as it tilts its head, listening. Slowly, it turns to look at you, gold eyes sparkling. 

“I guess you have to go, huh?” it bows its head once. “Stay safe, okay?” 

The wolf steps forward. Presses its muzzle into your temple and huffs, making you grin. You smell pine and bergamot, pleasant and calming. “Yeah, you’re welcome.” 

Slowly, the wolf clambours off, vanishing into the dark woods, leaving you to hurry home yourself. 

-

“Wear this at all times for protection, especially in the forest,” you murmur, holding the neatly scrawled note. You frown and look down at the fine cloak folded on the dresser. It had appeared overnight as if by magic, a funny feeling flipping your stomach. “Where did you come from?”

The cloak, of course, has no answer. You lift your hand to feel it, breathing out a dreamy sigh. The inside is lined with soft bear fur. Outside is some of the finest cloth you’ve ever seen, gentle but sturdy to the touch and dyed the most delicious shade of scarlet. 

Carefully, you lift the cloak. It’s a little big for your size, but not unwearable. You slip it over your sleeping gown, loving the way the material ripples like blood over your shoulders, the fur lining keeping you warm. It smells like pine and bergamot, making you pause. 

Certainly, a wolf did not bring you a cloak. Still, the timing is quite odd. You don’t know who else could possibly make a cloak so fine in the village, and the smell… you shake your head. A wolf did not bring you a cloak, but it did seem perhaps you had a secret admirer. 

-

THIRTEEN YEARS LATER

“Boo!” You scream and drop the collection of logs in your hands, whirling around. Hoseok bursts into laughter, doubling over as he slaps his hands against his knees, hot breath misting the air. “You should see your face!”

“You rotten bastard!” You growl, picking up a log and throwing it at him. It doesn’t hit him, but he jumps away from it anyway, careful not to let it drop on his toes. “That isn’t funny!”

“It’s a little funny.”

“It’s not!” You crouch down and start picking up the timber. Hoseok at least has the decency to help you, starting with the log you threw at him. “There was another animal attack last night, in case you didn’t know.” 

That makes him pause. “There was?”

“Yes,” you hiss, snatching the last log and standing. “So stop lurking around corners and scaring me. It isn’t funny.” 

“Well, an animal isn’t going to attack you in the village. Unless you’re talking about Mingyu’s fiancee, anyway. That one is feral indeed.” 

You level Hoseok with a look and he gives you a grin. His nose and ears are red from the cold - and maybe a little guilt for scaring you - and he offers to take the timber from your arms. You let him, shoveling it over to him and marching around the front of your house. 

Wind howls between the houses, ripping at the ends of your red cloak. It catches your hood, throwing it up over your head as you shiver and tuck your hands into the fur lining. A shiver rattles up your spine as you kick the snow from your boots and rush inside, Hoseok quick on your heels. 

“So what happened?” Hoseok asks, following you to your room. 

“The Matheson Family,” you mumble. “They were attacked. San went down to collect new saddles his father ordered and found them slaughtered - their hounds too.” 

“They have hunting hounds - what the hell can kill those?”

“Perhaps it’s the wolves again. Dr. Kim was going with the city council to investigate.” 

Hoseok sighs. “The timing isn’t good. It’s about time the traders arrived. What if they bypass us entirely if the road is too dangerous?”

It’s a thought that has been plaguing everyone in the village. Because of the remote location on the north side of the woods, your small spec on the map relies on traders at the beginning of every winter for things that you’ll need to make it through: salt, extra grain and fruits, tools too advanced and large for the local smithy, repairs on houses and wagons. 

Arrival times of traders fluctuate every year. Sometimes there’s a cold snap, burying roads in heavy snow that are unnavigable. Other times, there is unrest in the woods when a rogue band of thieves gets the idea to rob travelers and hide in the woods until the city council sends a team of men to deal with it. 

Now, though, it’s getting into the late period of their arrival. The entire village holds its breath waiting for them, people looking out the open gates down the snowy road hoping to see a courier come ahead to announce the arrival of wagons and troupes of people. 

“Do you really think it’s wolves?” Hoseok asks. “I don’t think I’ve heard of wolf attacks like this since…” 

Hoseok winces. “It’s fine,” you assure him with a smile. “It’s not like I remember that time, much less remember my dad.” 

It’s true. Early memories of your childhood are murky at best. You remember being happy and loving your dad. You remember a period of fear and general uneasiness in the town, wolf attacks rampant and frequent. There had been plenty of men and women who died during that period, including your father.

That was a long time ago, though. For the most part, life in your small village is uninteresting. Some winters are harder than others, like the current season, but you’ve always managed to get by. 

“Do you remember much of that time period?” you ask him quietly. 

“Not really. Just that everyone was afraid. It was a really harsh winter and it drove wolves down from the mountains. I remember it being strange.”

“Strange how?” 

You chew your lip and shake your head, trying to encapsulate the thread of memory you have. Of feeling the tremor of fear in the air, the cold feeling of dread… like something violent was in the village. Something wrong.

“I don’t know. I was so young.”

“Hmm.” 

The talk of wolves makes you think about your wolf. Your lips curve at the memory of how gentle the wolf was, the somber eyes, and the smell of pine and bergamot. 

It would be a lie to say you had not gone out to the woods several times since that night to try and find the beast again. You haven’t seen him since, but you’ve always had a feeling he’s there somewhere. Watching. Waiting. 

“Either way,” Hoseok sighs. “Dad seems worried this winter will be like that time. He’s been doing a lot of will and testament papers at the office. He works late every night and is gone early in the morning.” 

“Really?”

“Want to hear what Mr. Hillshire is leaving for his kids?” Hoseok leans forward, conspiratorial. “You won’t believe it.” 

-

The bell over the door rings as someone enters the salon of Dr. Kim’s veterinary practice, drawing your attention. You straighten when you see San walk in.

“Hi, San,” you greet. “Here to pick up Maple?” 

“Yeah, is that alright? Mom is busy at the shop.” 

“Of course.” You wipe your sweaty hands on your skirts and gesture behind you with your thumb. “I’ll go fetch her. Dr. Kim is on an errand but she’s ready to go.” 

The back of the building with the kennels is quiet. The Choi family cat and two other sleeping dogs are the only occupants of the practice, making it an easy day. Maple is dozing in her kennel, chirping in protest when you open the cage and scoop her into a carrier. She’s a lazy thing, a calico with pretty eyes and a newly stitched ear. 

Carefully you carry her up front. San is standing patiently in the lobby, hands behind his back as he looks around nervously. You raise your brows as you come around the counter, handing over the carrier. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm?”

“You look nervous. It’s just me and the Lowells’ hounds back here.” 

“Oh, yes.” His ears blush pink as he accepts the carrier and steps back. “Just a nervous energy in general. I have been since um…”

Oh. You had forgotten that it was San who discovered the Matheson family disemboweled by some kind of animal. The constable had thought that maybe it was a pack of wolves but was concerned by how big the claw marks and destruction were. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt.

“For what?”

“That you had to see that, I guess? It must have been terrifying.”

“A little,” he admits, looking at his shoes. “I walked the path to the Mathesons all the time. I don’t ever recall seeing something that could… do that.”

“Was it that awful?” 

He nods. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen. Don’t get me wrong, I go on hunting parties. We’ve seen the leftovers from bears and wolves. This was something worse. It felt like…” He shakes his head and looks up at you. “It felt angry.”

“Angry?”

“Yeah. I know that doesn’t make sense. It was probably just a beast coming down from the mountain because it was starving. You know how harsh winters are.” 

You hum in agreement. 

San dismisses himself, thanking you again for helping with the family cat and throwing a wave over his shoulder. You return it half-heartedly, already distracted with thoughts of what the animal attacks could mean.

You think about your wolf and how kind and intelligent it was. You don’t remember ever feeling a sense of impending doom like you do now, a heaviness to the air as you stand idly behind the counter. 

Dr. Kim's return startles you at the counter. You press your hands flat against the top of the desk, leaning up on your tiptoes as you see his son Seokjin enter behind him. Your heart flutters a little at the sight, still overwhelmed by his handsome face. 

Seokjin is tall and broad, with dark hair and a beautiful face. His sharp eyes find you and he gives you a half smile, though there seems to be something on his mind as he follows his father into the backroom, Dr. Kim barely saying hello as he goes, his brows furrowed in deep thought.

The two of them disappear and you watch the door swing shut behind them. Curious, you trail around the counter and softly walk over to the door, pulling it open a smidge.

It’s difficult to pick up on their words, but you can hear Dr. Kim’s timbre speaking in low tones from somewhere in the backroom. You hold your breath and wedge the door open a little more, pressing your ear toward the gap between the frame and the door. 

“... again. They’re going to want to start hunting parties again soon.”

“So what do we do?”

Silence. Then, “Send a message….”

“... brought it on themselves… it’s time to make things right.” 

Behind you, the bell rings at the door. You gasp, letting go of the door to the back room and spin around, heart hammering in your chest. Hoseok stands at the door, raising his brows in question. 

“What are you doing here?” you demand, suddenly angry that he’s startled you and ruined your sleuthing.

“I promised your mom I would walk home with you at the end of your shift, remember? Dangerous out there.” 

You blink and look out the window, realizing that the heavy gray of evening is setting over the road. You hadn’t realized it was so late. 

Nodding, you grab your cloak in a hurry. You pop your head into the back room, both Seokjin and Dr. Kim looking at you as you do. “I’m leaving for the evening, sir. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you for watching the place while I was gone. Tomorrow we have to make a house call to the Marrow farm. Lame horse.”

Seokjin frowns. “Do you think that is wise?” Dr. Kim looks at his son under heavy brows. “With the current conditions.” 

“We’ll be fine.” Something passes between them, son and father locked in a heated gaze. You stand there awkwardly, glancing between the two.

Seokjin breaks his stare from his father and flashes you a grin. “You have someone to walk you home?”

“Yeah, Hoseok is here.” You hug the cloak tighter to your chest and Seokjin’s eyes drop to it. An unreadable expression passes his face before he nods. “Have a good evening!”

“You too.”

Leaving them behind, you head to where Hoseok waits for you, examining drawings of animal skeletons and anatomy. You pull your cloak on, feeling safe and warm under the red material. Hoseok looks up at you, thrusting his thumb at one of the drawings of a horse. “I don’t look like that, right?” 

-

The red cloak tied around you wicks the sweat from the back of your neck. Your fingers work quickly as you tie it, knowing you’re already late to meeting Dr. Kim. Thankfully, you don’t make a habit of being late and you’re sure he won’t mind too much.

Strange dreams had plagued you all night. Images of wolves, blood and mist. Echoes of howling, screaming and thunder. Now as you hurry out of your home and into the wicked wind of winter, you cannot shake a sense of premonition.

Dr. Kim is already on the doorstep when you arrive at the veterinary office, a heavy coat on his shoulders and a bag of tools in his hand. He nods when he sees you and comes down the steps, turning toward the south exit of the village. 

Neither of you speak. Beyond the fact that you don’t think you’d be able to hear Dr. Kim over the howling wind, it doesn’t feel like the kind of trip that requires speaking. The evergreens on either side of the road loom over you, bows heavy with snow. Every so often, a branch cracks with the weight of frozen icicles, making you flinch with the sound.

It feels like you’re being watched. Every so often, you swivel your head this way and that, glancing at the trees. The trunks are too close together and the branches to tangle to see beyond them on either side of the road. Still, your skin tingles from something beyond the cold, you just don’t know what. 

The Marrow farm is only a little over a mile from the main village, but the snow covered roads make it slow going. As you near the edge of where their acres begin, your boots are already heavy with melted slush and your calves and thighs burn from dragging your feet through the path. 

Perhaps it was not a good day to do a house call. 

Passing white-covered gates, you’re thankful that at least the wind has died down as the morning turns into midday. The sun is hidden by clouds, but there is a hint of warmth in the air. The Marrow farm is made up of three buildings: the small house in front, the large barn to the back left where they keep their animals, and a giant silo for grains. 

As you near the house, a loud banging reaches you. Both you and Dr. Kim pause, listening as the sound carries on the wind. It doesn’t sound like hammering, but rather like a door slamming over and over again. 

“Barn door?” you suggest, looking up at Dr. Kim. His dark eyes look at the house, expression grim. “But why would they let it slam relentlessly?” 

“Keep your wits about you,” he murmurs, ignoring your question. “Go to the main house. I’ll go round to the barn. Perhaps they’ve forgotten the appointment.”

No smoke comes from the chimney. No snow is cleared from the footpath to the door. The shutters are closed, which makes sense to keep the cold out. As you approach the steps leading up to the porch, you note that none of the hounds are baying. The Marrow’s have several bloodhounds, all of which keep noisy providence around the threshold of the door. 

Spine tingling, you lift your hand and knock. There’s no answer. You strain your ears, leaning forward for any hint that the Marrow’s or one of their two sons are coming to the door. Not even the dogs alert them of your presence. 

You think about San finding the Mathesons butchered and your stomach drops. You knock again, knuckles stinging with cold as they rap harshly against the wooden door. Tucking your hand back into your cloak, you wait. 

Nothing comes. 

Taking a deep breath, you reach for the door and twist the handle. It opens easily, swinging inward to a cold, empty home. Inside, the air is still and dead. Behind you, the breeze brushes the edges of your cloak and the hood on your head. 

Silence hangs. Licking your lips, you lift a foot. It hands over the threshold, fear making you pause. There is nothing inside the home, and yet you find that you’re utterly terrified of stepping inside. Your stomach knots and for a few moments, you just stand there with your foot in the air, staring with unseeing eyes into the dark interior. 

You step into the room and pause. Nothing happens. The air inside the home is stale, like the doors and windows have not been opened for a few days. The cold is bone deep, clinging to the undisturbed air. You scan the room for any sign of life, but see nothing that stirs. 

Everything looks lived in. There are knitted blankets tossed across the backs of old arm chairs, boots by the door, unlaced and soft with age. Mugs have been turned upside down and placed on a towel near the basin for drying, and there are dice on the kitchen table. 

Navigating slowly, you move to the hall with bedrooms. Doors hang open, revealing unmade beds and clothes on the floor. Here too, the air feels undisturbed. You hear the breeze outside and the soft creak of the house, but nothing else makes a sound, save for the loud beating of your own heart. 

Shivering, you make your way to the front of the home. Something foul hangs in the air and you want to be rid of the feeling, quickening your steps to leave through the front door and-

Fear stabs deep into your stomach when you see the wolf standing in the doorway. It stands half in the home, half out, only the front two paws over the threshold. The beast barely fits in the door frame, wide as two men standing side by side and tall as a horse. 

You don’t move. It stares at you with bright, burning eyes. Its fur is dark, though there is a jagged ring of light fur around the right, front paw. You swear you smell pine and bergamot. Something nudges at the back of your mind as the two of you stand off - and it clicks into place.

“You,” you breathe. “You’re the wolf I helped!” 

For a moment, the bright yellow eyes stare at you. They’re unreadable, and yet… emotive. Intelligent. Understanding. The wolf dips its snout in a nod. 

“What are you doing here? Where are the Marrows?” 

The wolf’s ears flicker. Slowly, it backs out of the house. Throwing caution to the wind, you rush after him, nearly tripping over a wolfskin rug in the home.

Outside, the wolf stands below the porch. You step on the porch and pull up short, heart racing as you see the pack of wolves standing in front of the home.

The wolves are a variety of colors and sizes. You dare not move your head, but you scan them with your eyes, drinking in the different creatures. The only thing that they have in common is that they are freakishly large. 

Your wolf - for in your mind he’s yours - stands in front of you. He growls, hair on his spine raising as he regards the other wolves. There’s a silent standoff of sorts, the wolf you saved facing the others. You cannot understand their body language, but the air seems charged. 

The smell of smoke is in the air. You don’t dare look for the source, too afraid to do anything to disrupt the standoff. Breathing in deeply, you think you smell cedar. Oil. Something else that you can’t identify. 

Footsteps crunch the snow. You whip your head to the side, a warning on your tongue as Dr. Kim rounds the house, a haunted expression on his face. He stops abruptly, looking at the display in front of him behind frosted glasses. He says nothing - does nothing but glance between you, the wolf in front of you, and the others. 

Finally, one of the other wolves chuffs and shakes, dispelling snow. It has an all white coat and intense, dark eyes that look at you with… annoyance, if wolves can look annoyed. It turns to leave and the others follow - all five of them - as the white wolf leads them at a loping trot toward the silo and the woods beyond.

Your wolf turns to peer at you, ears flicking before it breaks off into a run, trailing after its pack to leave you and Dr. Kim standing in silence, watching them go. 

Slowly, you turn to Dr. Kim. He scrutinizes you, eyes squinted. “Where did you get that cloak?” 

You look down at the rich, red cloth. “I… well it just appeared, one day when I was younger. I don’t know.”

He regards you suspiciously. “I see. Come. We must leave right away.”

Dr. Kim begins walking at a fast pace back toward town, clutching his tool case. “Wait! Where are the Morrows?” 

Instead of answering, Dr. Kim continues on. You scramble after him, careful not to slip on the icy stairs. The wind picks up and you smell a fire again, making you turn back as you try to catch up. You almost stumble over your feet, eyebrows shooting up as you see orange flames consuming the barn. 

“Dr. Kim!”

Again, he says nothing. You stop and stare, watching as the fire eats away at the barn. The smoke burns black. Fueled by oil, you think. Looking over your shoulder, you watch Dr. Kim’s retreating back and wonder what exactly it is that he’s done. 

“Did you set that fire?” you demand, chasing him. He gives you a withering look. “What is going on?”

“Speak nothing of this,” he snaps. “We arrived here to make a housecall and discovered that the barn was on fire. We suspect that Mr. Marrow was burning to melt the snow around the barn and that the barn caught. The Marrow family died inside trying to put out the fire.”

“But the wolves-”

“Do not mention the wolves, girl.”

“Did they kill the Marrows?” His jaw works but he doesn’t answer. “Did they kill the Mathesons?” 

“This village has a complicated history,” he says finally. He pulls his coat tighter. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I do expect you to stay out of it. Say nothing of the wolves and stay away from them. You’ll make it through winter.”

-

Two weeks pass, the secret heavy on your tongue. You work with Dr. Kim as though nothing happened, and when people ask about the Marrow farm, you recite vague details. You don’t know why you do it but… the image of the wolf - your wolf - floats in your mind each time you spit out the lie. 

Thoughts plague you as Hoseok lounges on the porch of the office that belongs to Hoseok’s father, who acts as the town’s scribe and legal affairs recorder. A sudden warm day has brought everyone outdoors, lounging on their porches and trying to take advantage of the melting snow around the buildings. The streets are muddy and murky as kids run by, feet splashing. 

A group of men prowl around the outskirts of the village. Sun shines through the slats of the overhang in front of the inn, warming where you lean on the porch railing. Hoseok rattles on about gossip he’s heard from his mother’s tea parties and his father’s work on will and testaments with the growing fear of death in the village. 

“Plagues, serial killings, blood feuds and animal attacks,” Hoseok sighs, staring up at the ceiling where he lies. “Good for father’s business. Bad for my cramping hand trying to help him.” 

“Hmm,” you hum noncommittally, thoughts lost as you stare out into the street with unseeing eyes.

Shouts make you flinch. You stand rod straight, gripping the railing as you look for the source of the disruption. Hoseok stands up immediately, joining you at the railing as the pair of you lean to look toward the entrance to the town. 

At first, you think that it’s about another wolf attack. People rush into the street, looking toward the commotion. Then you see it. Gleeful cheers spring up to the buildings closest to the town’s entrance as the first few traders enter the road. Your heart soars when you see donkeys pulling a cart behind them, followed by more people carrying packs and towing small carts. 

“The traders!” You breathe, feeling a sigh of relief sweep through you. “They’ve made it!” 

Excitement ripples through the village. People come flocking from the buildings to welcome cart after cart full of people. Some traders tow full carriages with riders at the front, the shutters on their carriages tied shut, hiding their wares inside. 

Hoseok lounges back down, letting out a sigh of relief. You feel the same, leaning on the railing again to watch as the carts are towed down the road, pulling down different streets to set up shop and find accommodations. 

Most of the traders look vaguely familiar to you - you see the Robin’s with their cloth cart and Morty with his towering carriage of unusual wares and charms. The Yang twins set off small, popping fireworks from the back of their cart, making the children squeal. 

Something catches your eye. “There are more traders than usual,” you tell Hoseok, frowning as your eyes settle on the large men who walk among the carts, all of whom wear weapons belts and look from side to side as they walk. “I think they’re warriors, Hoseok.”

“Warriors?” he laughs. “Strange.”

“No really, there are several men with blades at the hip and bows on the back. They look… guarded.”

He tilts his head, eyeing where your eyes flit from person to person. “Perhaps the road is as hard as we suspected this year.” 

You hum in agreement, watching as the caravans stop and unload, the muddy streets filling with people and chatter and bubbling with excitement. It feels like the bubble of anxiety looming over the town has popped - at least temporarily - relieving the pressure that had been building with every passing day. 

Leaning against the rail, you’re content to observe. All manner of people and things are pulled from carts. Vendors start setting up right away, people forming lines for ingredients, cloth, and wares. The largest line of all is for weapons and metal tools, Old Man Heo barely has time to park his cart before the men of the village ask how much for iron arrowheads and blades. 

A shiver goes through you as your eyes sweep back toward the town entrance where more people pour in. Fewer caravans come through - now it’s just people with pack mules or bags over their shoulders. 

The hairs on your arm stand up when you see him. Wind lifts the edge of your cloak, making it flutter around you. You watch as he walks down the main street with the other travelers, eyes flicking around as he drinks in the buildings and the crowd of villagers coming to welcome the traders. 

As though he senses your staring, his head snaps to you. You feel frozen to the spot, your fingers tightening on the rail as you meet his eyes. They’re unfathomably dark and yet… a tingle of familiarity slithers up your spine. 

He stares at you in turn. You’re sure he’s looking at you, paused near the cart he stands next to, dark gaze focused on where you stand on the porch. 

You’ve never seen him.  You’re sure of it. You’d remember a handsome face like that anywhere. His long, dark hair is pushed back from his face, revealing a sharp jawline, a strong nose, and intense eyes. His lips are red from the cold - pretty against tan skin.

He’s tall. Taller than most men in the village and broad, with strong shoulders and thick arms, though it’s hard to tell underneath his tunic. Like the other hardy men accompanying traders, he has a weapons belt snug around his waist and the bulk of his frame implies that he knows how to use them. 

The man doesn’t break eye contact. His mouth begins to tilt in what you think might be the start of a smile when Hoseok sits up abruptly, startling you. You break eye contact, looking at Hoseok who bites into an apple, offering you one. 

“You frightened me,” you snap, a little irritated at being distracted. When you glance back up at the man, his attention is elsewhere. 

“What were you staring at anyway?” he asks, crunching bits of apple. 

“Nothing,” you murmur, eyes on the flexing back of the man as he helps unload a wagon near the inn. Something niggles at the back of your mind. I know you. “Nothing at all.” 

“Want to visit the vendors later when they’re all set up? I would love to get some spiced wine and listen to Marla’s stories tonight.”

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation. “Let’s do just that.” 

-

Every minute that passes by feels like an eternity. Incurable energy simmers under the surface as you wait for the day to fade to evening. You clean the entire house, you collect wood from outside, you dress and then change into something else, and you ultimately end up pacing back and forth in your room while you wait for Hoseok to arrive. 

Your thoughts are consumed by the mystery man you had seen earlier. His handsome face swims in your memory. The clear image of his face is accompanied by some feeling you cannot identify, something that almost feels like nostalgia. How can you feel nostalgia for someone you don’t know? 

Hoseok finally arrives, letting himself into your house cheerily. The brief respite from winter is already bleeding away, the wind carrying a painful promise as it lifts your hood outside. The traders, it seems, arrived at the perfect time, the cloudy sky promising snow in the morning once more. 

Energy sizzles in the air. It’s as though the momentary fear of the wolf attacks is momentarily forgotten with the arrival of the vendors and travelers. The noise echoes from every street, torches, and fires lighting up the alleyways and down as people hang lamps in the windows and carts string up tea lights. 

Though you’re nervous, you are temporarily distracted as Hoseok pulls you through a tangle of carts toward Sal’s Sweets. Your stomach grumbles when you catch the scent of melting sugar and sweet confections, joining the line at Hoseok’s side to pick up hot, sticky sweets. 

With hot, sweet rolls drizzled in honey in hand, you and Hoseok explore the vendor carts. It is an explosion of color and lights, glittering jewelry hanging from displays, hot meats sizzling in pants over fires, the flash of powder and light as the Yang twins set off more fireworks, and the smell of spices as you pass by herb carts and tents. 

Everywhere you go, you see the men from before, looming near carts with weapons and steely expressions. But not even the eerie sight of them can bring down the spirits of the villagers, kids running with new kites and jars full of fireflies. 

As you stand in line with Hoseok who wants new inkwells, you listen to passing chatter. From what you gather, it was a hard trip this way on the caravans this year. The winter was just as harsh on the road as it was in the village, and the traders' voices become quiet when they talk about thieves and monsters in the woods.

You exchange a glance with Hoseok and he nods. Wolves. 

Wordlessly, you wait as Hoseok points out the inks that he wants. You begin to crane your neck, looking for the familiar stranger that you had seen before. The square is crowded and packed tight with people, making it nearly impossible to make out much beyond a few feet in front of you.

You spot Dr. Kim walking next to Seokjin, both of their heads bowed as they speak to one another. You narrow your eyes, remembering the way Dr. Kim had silenced you at the Marrow farm. You watch them as they head toward the road that the veterinary practice is on, pausing as a man pushes off the wall to join them.

It’s him you realize. You recognize the broad shoulders and the dark hair as he turns his back to you, walking with the Kims down the road. You don’t even have to think twice.

“Hey,” you tug Hoseok’s sleeve. “I’m going to go see Dr. Kim about something really quick. I’ll meet you at the inn?”

“Sure.” He frowns. “Is it safe to go alone?”

“With all of these people?” You’re already backing away and shrugging. “Definitely.” 

Without waiting for Hoseok to respond, you turn on your heel and rush into the crowd. The bodies of people immediately swallow you. The sound and sights and smells become a blur as you push through the crowd, shouldering people aside. You get some nasty looks from the force at which you move, but they immediately forget you as more people press in.

Less people pass you by as you walk up the street, pulling your cloak in tight. The lights in front of the building are off. You creep up the stairs and try the handle, finding it locked. It doesn’t matter, you sneak around the back of the building to the rear entrance and press your ear to the door. When you hear nothing, you try the handle and it twists.

Victorious, you open the door and slide through. The hallway is narrow with four doors on the right leading to examination rooms and two doors on the left. The first door leads to the kennel area where you hear voices. The second leads to the front lobby and desk.

The front lobby is the safest option, lest you get caught eavesdropping in the hallway when they leave. Carefully, you creep by the door, holding your breath and praying the floor doesn’t creak. Your heart pounds as you inch past the door, hearing deep voices on the other side as you go by. 

Clearing the door, you hurry into the lobby and to the door behind the desk that leads to the kennels. Crouching down low to hide yourself from anyone walking by the windows, you carefully pull the door open, unwilling to open it any further than the width of your index finger. Pressing your ear to the open gap, you listen.

“We talked about discretion,” Dr. Kim says, his voice frustrated. “This isn’t discretion. This is harassment and fear-mongering.”

“I told you,” a deep, smooth voice answers. You assume it must belong to the stranger and you shiver, eyes fluttering as the sound of it washes over you. “It isn’t my decision to make. I do not lead. Yoongi made it very clear how he wishes to proceed.” 

“Yoongi is a lunatic.”

“He’s the alpha.”

You frown. Alpha? You’re familiar with the concept of alphas in packs of dogs and herding animals, but you don’t know what that has to do with people or who Yoongi is. 

“The hunts will begin tomorrow.”

You think Dr. Kim means the hunting for the wolves. It makes sense now that the traders are in town and they can stock up on weapons. 

“As is the way of things,” the stranger answers with a sigh. “You know why Yoongi has chosen this path.”

“Is revenge worth it?”

“Perhaps your kind do not understand.” The stranger’s voice hardens. You wonder what he means by your kind. “You have one foot in the forest, one in the village.” 

“We understand, but we’re also not reckless.” Charged quiet hangs in the air. You hold your breath, your heart thundering in your chest, waiting for the sound of footsteps at the end of a conversation. “Why are you here, Namjoon? You came alone.”

Namjoon. The name washes over you, a warm feeling like the first spray of summer rain. It must be the stranger's name. 

Namjoon answers, “There is… a protected here. But I still fear for them. Yoongi and the others are angry - I wish to further keep them from harm.”

A frown twists your mouth. This Namjoon is here to protect someone from Yoongi. You wonder what this has to do with Dr. Kim. Could… Perhaps someone is using the wolves as tools? You’ve certainly seen a hunter train wolves or wolfhounds before, though it’s a dangerous business. 

Dr. Kim sighs. “That is the only saving grace of you being here, I’m afraid. Seokjin and I cannot help you. Not without exposing ourselves. I’ve already done what I can.”

“You have my greatest thanks for that. You and yours will always be safe. And not just because of your blood.”

Shuffling makes you lean away from the door immediately. You slowly drop it back in place before crawling over to the desk and hiding under it, straining your hearing as the footsteps go into the back hall and out of the back door. You remain there long after you hear the back door shut, waiting just in case they’re still outside.

When you’re sure they’ve gone, you crawl out from underneath the desk and hurry into the hall and out the back door. The alley is empty when you stick your head out, sagging with relief. You hurry out and close the door behind you, spinning around and-

“You know, most people who don’t want to be seen don’t sneak around in a red cloak.”

The man - Namjoon - looms over you, looking down at you with an amused expression. Your scream is cut off when he winces and cups your mouth with his hand. “Well don’t scream! You’ll summon Giho and Seokjin back this way. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Namjoon waits for a moment, your chest heaving as you nod, signifying that you won’t scream for help. Maybe it’s silly, but you trust him not to hurt you. At the least, he is there to protect someone in the village, so he doesn’t seem like he’s there for nefarious reasons.

When he drops his hands, you press yourself against the door, trying to put a little distance between you. Namjoon’s presence is demanding, a tickle prickling at the base of your spine as you look up at him, mystified. 

He’s so beautiful. Up close, you can make out his features far better than earlier that day. His eyes are dark and framed by beautiful, silken lashes. His nose is broad and his jaw is sharp. A dimple appears when he gives you a lopsided grin, dark eyes sizing you up.

The same sense of familiarity from earlier comes back to you, and though you’ve never seen his face before, you swear you know him. Warmth radiates from him, the delicate smell of pine and bergamot reaching you. He feels like… yours. Like some part of him completes you. It is the strangest feeling. 

“You okay, Red?” he asks, tone earnest. You furrow your brows at the term and he grins - genuine and warm. “Your cloak. It’s a very bright red. Pretty, though.”

“Thank you?”

He raises a brow. “Are you asking me?”

“I’m… you’re awfully close.”

Namjoon takes a few steps back from you. You suddenly regret saying something as his warmth vanishes, replaced by the cool wind. “Sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“Why didn’t you alert Dr. Kim if you knew I was snooping.”

“You don’t seem to be a threat. Plus, he’s a bit of a grouch. It didn’t seem worth it to hear him chastise a pretty girl.”

You flush. “How do you know the Kims?”

“Family friends.” 

“What were you all talking about?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Just because I’m not chastising you for listening to our private conversation doesn’t mean I’m going to divulge the details of said private conversation.”

You divert your gaze, feeling flushed. He has a point, but if he’s put out by your line of questioning or your eavesdropping, he doesn’t show it. “Come on,” Namjoon says. “Let’s go back to the square. I need a drink and it’s dangerous to walk around right now.”

“Because of the wolves?”

He stares at you. “Because it’s dark and there are a bunch of strangers in your town, and you’re a woman alone. In the dark.”

“You’re a stranger in my town.”

His grin spreads and his dimple deepens. Your stomach flutters. You’re not unaffected by him, a little dizzy and nervous when he sticks out a hand. “Namjoon. I’m a part of the Kim family.”

“Like… Dr. Kim?” you ask, reaching out your hand and giving him your name.

“We’re related, in a way. Pretty name. I think I’ll stick with Red, though.”

Namjoon takes off walking. For a second, you just stand and stare at him. He shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn’t look back. You lick your lips, heart pounding. You cannot shake the sense of something peculiar about him, something familiar. He’s a Kim - perhaps you know him.

Determined to find out, you take off after him, scurrying to catch up. You fall into step with him and look up to find him smirking down at you before focusing back on the growing noise and lights of the main square. 

“Have you been here before?” you ask, watching him from the corner of your eye. He shakes his head and you frown. “I feel like I know you.”

“Perhaps I have one of those faces?”

“No, I’d remember a face like yours.”

Namjoon turns to you, arching a brow. “A face like mine, huh?” 

Multiple fire pits dot the streets, groups of people clustered around them to keep warm as the chill seeps back into the village. The inn is bustling with people, the door propped open with a chair as people walk in and out with platters of food and tankards in hand. Multiple villagers have pulled out tables and chairs from their homes, setting them up in the street. 

It feels good. The air hums with euphoria and the promise of better days ahead, like suddenly there are not several families mourning their loved ones. The atmosphere reminds you of a festival, and you suppose it kind of is a festival. 

The smell of burning fat and ale hits your nose as you walk into the inn. Voices roar over one another and the workers are busy behind the bar. A fireplace crackles in the far corner where you spot Hoseok guarding an extra chair. 

“I fear this is where we part ways,” Namjoon announces over the din of voices. “Try not to do any more eavesdropping tonight.” You hesitate, wanting to protest. There are a million burning questions you have for him. He must see it in your face, because he smiles and says, “We’ll run into one another again. Don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

You were actually, and you know he knows by his smirk. “Goodnight, Red.”

You watch Namjoon go. He moves toward where the innkeeper stands at a podium looking over reservations, blending into the crowd. Just before he reaches the podium he glances over his shoulder at you, catching you watching. He shoots you a grin and you scowl, pivoting on your heel to charge toward Hoseok. 

Hoseok raises his eyebrows when he sees you storm over to him and yank the chair out from the table, sitting down in a huff. Without a word, you snatch his tankard of ale and take several, cold gulps before setting it on the table, letting it wash through you. 

“Who was that you came in with? And then stormed over here after speaking to?”

“Some relative of the Kims,” you mutter. “I find him very… frustrating.”

“He’s very handsome.”

You glare at Hoseok and see the beginning of a wicked smile. “And frustrating.” 

He lifts his cup, shrugging. “Cheers to being frustrating.”

-

A scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You lurch up from bed, head spinning as you try to gather your wits about you. Blankets tangle your limbs as you try to peel them from sweaty skin. Another scream makes you stumble out of bed, the world tilting on its axis as your body tries to catch up with your sudden lucidity. 

In the main room of your home, your mother is stumbling through the kitchen too, lighting a candle and grabbing a holder. You feel relief as you realize the screaming isn’t coming from your home, but your neighbor’s.

Together, you and your mother rush out into the cold in nightgowns, not bothering with shoes or coats. The cold is bitter, immediately stinging your skin as the Liang family joins you in running to the Hutch family home where it sounds like Mrs. Hutch is screaming like a wild animal in her house. 

“It’s Leanne,” your mother breathes, words turning to steam in the air. 

“Come on,” you urge, pulling your mother as you go, driven by the shrieks.

The front door hangs open as Mr. Liang enters the home first, an ax in hand. It occurs to you that neither you nor your mother have weapons, but Mrs. Hutch has always been kind to your mother, making the both of you charge into the darkness of her home empty-handed.

A metallic tang hits you immediately. You recoil, recognizing the stench of blood immediately. Villagers spill into the home behind you, alerted to the wailing coming from the bedroom. With torches and candles in hand, you spot the red on the dark wood floor in the hallway. 

Mr. Liang stands in the doorway of the bedroom, staring with a haunted gaze at what he sees there. Your mother pushes through the people in the home to look over his shoulder, her hand flying to her mouth as she gasps. 

“Oh Leanne,” she murmurs in horror, shoving by Mr. Liang.

You don’t go to the room. The smell and the weeping coming from the bedroom give you an inkling of what lay inside. You stand in the living room as people fill the hall, gasping and murmuring. Someone shouts to wake the constable. 

“Why?” Mrs. Hutch screams in her room, the despair in her voice rattling your bones. “Why?”

“His throat has been cut,” someone murmurs from the hall. “Murdered in bed.” 

Murdered? That throws you for a loop. You had assumed somehow it was an animal attack but… you shiver. Murder is different. 

Mr. Liang begins shooing people out of the house. You slink out into the cold and hurry to your own home, bare feet freezing in the cold, wet earth. Your mother stays with Mrs. Hutch, leaving you alone.

The dark presses in on you, every creak of a floorboard making you jump. The shadows seem menacing now and you’re quick to find and light a candle, orange light flooding the home. 

Cloth and candle in hand, you return to your room to wipe the cold mud from your feet, skin still burning from the frigid air. Voices carry in from outside, the entire town waking and gathering as the shock of murder ripples through the streets, a stone in a pond.

With sleep nowhere near possible for the remainder of the night, you get dressed. You pull on thick woolen pants, a tunic, and multiple socks, sticking your feet in your boots. Your cloak goes next, fastening it around your throat as you look out your bedroom window. 

Your home sits at an angle in a row of houses that circle the village like a ring. You can see the wall of the home next to you, and a sliver of the backyard as well. It’s that tiny space in the backyard that catches your eye, watching as someone moves from the edge of the home out of sight. 

Heart in your throat, you grab a candle and run outside. The crowd in front of the Hutch’s has grown, but you ignore them, skirting around your house to the alleyway between you and your neighbor. Nothing catches your eye as you run to the backyard, swiveling as you search in the darkness for the shadow you saw. 

The wind howls, drowning out the voices in the street. The treeline behind the houses is dark. You squint your eyes and lift the candle in your hand, the flame barely flickering as the wind makes the trees sway. There is nothing in the darkness and you begin to turn when you see a shadow in the tree line. 

It’s barely there - perhaps a trick of the light, even. You take a step forward, boots crunching in the snow. A gust of wind makes your cloak snap at your ankles, candle going out and leaving you without a source of light. You had not realized how dark it was without it, the shadow vanishing from your line of sight. 

Fear nestles in the pit of your stomach. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs as your limbs lock, realizing how stupid it was to come outside if there was a killer among the trees. Soft snow crunches somewhere close to you. You squeeze your eyes shut, tucking your chin to your chest as panic makes you shut down, unable to move and-

“Red.”

Namjoon’s voice makes you spin around. He holds a torch level with his head, the flame casting an eerie glow on his face. For a moment, he looks lupine and terrifying, your heart nearly stuttering to a halt. 

Then his face twists in concern. “What are you doing out here alone?”

“What are you doing?”

“Dr. Kim sent me over to check on you. No one answered the door so I came around back.”

“Why?”

Namjoon seems confused. “Why did I come around back or why did he send me?”

“Both.”

“I could see the light of your candle and because a murder has just happened.”

You relax a little at the logic in his answer. Snow begins to fall from the sky. You look up at the moonless black,  thick clouds floating as the bits of snow drift on the breeze. You shiver and look back to the trees, seeing nothing but tightly packed pines. Still, there is an instinctual sense of trepidation that sits heavy in your gut.

“Come on,” Namjoon says gently. “Let’s go inside. I’ll wait with you until your mother comes home.” 

Reluctantly, you follow Namjoon. Eyeing him, you realize he is dressed differently than previously that night. Now, he’s in black breeches and a black linen shirt. The weapons belt is gone and he’s without a coat. 

You frown. “Aren’t you freezing?”

“I run warm.”

It’s the only answer that he gives you as you walk back into the street which is filled with people and torches. In the distance, you hear the baying of hounds. It chills you, goosebumps exploding up and down your arms as you watch a cluster of firelights gather far off down the road. 

“The constable is leading a manhunt. They’ll come to question us too.” 

Wordlessly you gesture for Namjoon to join you inside of your home. He closes the door firmly behind you and strides to the fireplace, using the torch to coax the simmering logs to a full flame. Cedar pops as he adds the torch to the fire, orange embers drifting up the chimney. 

Rubbing your hands together, you offer him tea and he accepts with a soft smile. It doesn’t meet his eyes as he looks around the only place you’ve ever called home. Suddenly shy of your less-than-luxurious surroundings, you clear your throat and gesture to one of the mismatched armchairs by the fire as you grab a kettle.

Namjoon hardly fits in the chair. You press your lips to keep from laughing, which feels inappropriate with a man dead just a few yards away. With careful hands, you hang the kettle next to the fire, the flame close enough to heat the water as you scurry back to the kitchen and fill tea bags with herbs. 

“What kind of tea do you like?”

“Yarrow, if you have it.”

“I do.” You grab the jar, popping the top. “Are you in great pain, Mr. Kim?”

“Call me Namjoon. Mr. Kim feels far too formal.”

“Well, we are strangers, after all.”

Namjoon certainly doesn’t feel like a stranger. You cast him a sidelong glance as you say it, looking for his reaction. He turns his head from the fire, meeting your gaze head-on. His lips curve in a secret smile, making your nerves dance.

“I suppose that’s true.”

Is it? You wonder. You’re not so sure. 

Instead of asking him, you bring the mugs with bags of tea over to where he sits, handing him one. Steam rises from the spout of the teapot. With a thick towel, you lift it off of the hanger. Namjoon holds out his cup and lets you pour carefully into his mug, the smell of yarrow and mint wafting toward you. After pouring your own cup, you set the kettle down and sit across from him.

Your cold hands leech the warmth from the mug. You settle comfortably in the chair, relaxing and inhaling the chamomile in your cup. After a few moments of silence, you realize how comfortable and safe you feel with Namjoon, though you’ve only known him for a few short hours. 

“Why have you come to the village?” 

Namjoon watches the fire as he answers, “You were eavesdropping at the veterinary office. I’m sure you heard me.” You look down at your steaming cup and Namjoon chuckles, raspy and deep. It’s a nice sound.

“You said there was a ‘protected’ here. And something about a Yoongi.”

Namjoon’s face darkens at the mention of Yoongi. You chew on your lip, worried you’ve pushed him too far before you’ve even started to ask him real questions. His jaw works as he contemplates what you’ve said, sipping the tea a little. 

“A protected just means someone under protection by my family,” Namjoon says finally. “My extended family is… large. We are a very close group and we consider those in our community blood.”

“It is… not always like that here.”

“Your mother assists Mrs. Hutch, though. That seems like family, in a way.”

“Mrs. Hutch is kind. Not everyone is.” 

Namjoon nods. “It is not like that where I am from. We bear the sins of our neighbors and we share the responsibility of keeping everyone safe.”

“That must be nice.” You sip your tea and scald your tongue, hissing and setting the cup down. Namjoon leans forward as though to help you, alarm on his face. “Tea is too hot. I don’t know how you drink it.”

He smiles and shrugs. “I run warm.” 

“So you said. How are you related to Dr. Kim?” 

“He’s my uncle. He’s my father’s brother. His wife was best friends with my mom.” 

“Oh.” You blink in surprise. “She passed away when I was very young. She… died the same winter as my father.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Namjoon frowns and cocks his head. “What did your father do?” 

“He was a hunter.”

One of the logs pops in the fireplace, making you flinch. You give a nervous laugh and glance at Namjoon, who has gone stone-still. The firelight dances on his face as he peers at you. Your smile falters a little at the gravity you find there. 

“He only hunted fowl and deer,” you find yourself explaining. You don’t know why you say it, only that suddenly that feels important. “He didn’t like to hunt bigger game or predators. Mother says that he believed they were best left alone and that a true hunter knows his betters when he sees them.”

Namjoon hums. “Smart man.”

“I don’t know. He died in an animal attack when I was very young.” 

“You must resent the woods.”

“Not at all. I think…” You bite your bottom lip, trying to find the right words. “I think that he wouldn’t blame the animals. The woods are their home. My mother says he was always very adamant about that. They don’t usually attack villagers, though.”

“Usually?”

“There are animal attacks happening. I’m sure Dr. Kim told you…?”

“Ah, yes. You think they’re without reason?”

“Perhaps hunger? I don’t know. It does not happen often.” 

“Wolves are not known to hunt people.” Namjoon’s fingers drum against his mug, a steady tap. He seems thoughtful as he regards you. “They’re intelligent creatures and their packs are important to them. They take the threat to their land and their family seriously.” 

“Like your family?”

He laughs. “Like my family.” Namjoon sips his tea again. “This land used to belong to several packs of wolves, you know?”

“Really?”

“Yes, until settlers drove them out. Not that long ago there were hunting parties for sport. They slaughtered entire packs, destroying bloodlines and nearly wiping out the wolves here entirely.”

“I always found that incredibly sad.”

“Why is that?”

“They’re incredibly important to the ecosystem here. And I guess I always agreed with my dad. I don’t remember him much, but I like to remember that he was good at heart.”

Namjoon hums but says nothing else. You sit in silence for a while, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Namjoon’s presence is steady, keeping out the cold and the fear just beyond the door. You wonder how he does that by just sitting in a chair, or how it feels so natural. 

Outside, the world begins to turn gray. You yawn as exhaustion begins to set in and you feel yourself sagging. Eyes burning, you rub them with the back of your hands, blinking a few times to fight the explosion of colors in your vision. 

“You can sleep,” Namjoon says softly from where he sits. You glance at him. “You can trust me.”

A hint of pine and bergamot drift toward you, making you drowsy. Namjoon grabs a blanket from the back of his chair and stands up, bringing it to you. He takes your mug and you watch him with sleepy, round eyes as he places the blanket over you.

“Sleep.” His voice is soft, distant. “I will be here.”

Your eyes flutter shut and you drift to sleep, remembering the warm sound of his voice. It… reminds you of your wolf.

-

Gentle voices pull you from the clutches of sleep. You wake slowly, a cramp in your neck making you reluctant to get up. You smell the fire and the hint of pine and bergamot. You hear a low, raspy voice that you instantly recognize as Namjoon. 

How swiftly I know his voice, you think. 

“You must wake her,” a male voice says. You recognize it as Dr. Kim. “The constable is coming for questioning.”

“She’s already awake,” Namjoon answers, a smile in his voice. Your eyes snap open at being caught, meeting his dark gaze as he smirks from near your door. “See?”

You scowl at him. How did he know that? Sitting up and stretching, you appraise the two men lurking near your door. “Is my mother still with Mrs. Hutch?”

Dr. Kim nods and steps swiftly into the room around Namjoon. Namjoon reaches out a hand, catching Dr. Kim with his arm and stopping him from entering the room properly. You watch in puzzlement as there’s a silent exchange between the two of them, Namjoon’s face dark as Dr. Kim raises a brow. 

Then, Namjoon lets him go. You cock your head to the side, wondering what that’s about. Ignoring Namjoon, Dr. Kim approaches and says, “The constable will be here shortly. Say nothing about the farm.”

The farm. The memory of the wolves brings a chill to your arm, the smell of smoke and burning oil. The confusion and Dr. Kim’s refusal to answer your questions. 

“What is going on?” you demand, eyes flickering from Dr. Kim to Namjoon. “Animal attacks, murders, you covering up something at the barn. I’m being lied to.” 

“Say nothing about the farm,” Dr. Kim says again, voice firm. Namjoon makes a noise that startles you. It’s almost like a growl, your eyes going wide as he glares at Dr. Kim. “I told you this village has a complicated history. I’m looking after your safety.” 

Heavy footsteps sound on the porch. There’s a loud knock on the door, the constable announcing his presence on the other side. Namjoon opens the door for him, standing back to let him in. The constable looks him up and down with confusion before looking at you, a question in his eyes.

“They came to check on me,” you offer. The constable has known you since you were a child, it’s no wonder he’s confused at the presence of a stranger in your home. “How can I help you, constable?”

“I’d like you to answer a few questions about last night. Mr. Liang confirmed you were one of the first people to Hutch’s last night.”

Dr. Kim walks to your kitchen and busies himself making tea. Namjoon moves to sit in the chair across from you, his warm presence from the night before replaced with something mildly threatening. You cut him a look but his dark eyes are focused on the constable as though he’s a threat. 

The questions are easy enough. When did you wake up? Did you notice anyone around your home when you came home? Did you notice anyone outside? When did you come home? 

You leave out running into Namjoon behind your home. You don’t know why, but you feel the need to not draw attention to him. You also leave out the strange incident at the farm, glancing sideways at Dr. Kim when he brings you lemon tea. 

When the constable is finished, he eyes Dr. Kim. “Be at the station at four,” he instructs. “We’re splitting hunting parties. One to look for the culprit, the other to get rid of the damn wolves.” 

“The wolves were there first, you know?” Namjoon speaks up, looking at you and not the constable. “Have you ever tried figuring out what they want?”

“And who the hell are you?”

“Please ignore my nephew, constable. He likes to insert himself in conversations he doesn’t belong in. Come, let’s look over the hounds before you send them out tonight.”

Together, the constable and Dr. Kim shuffle out. Before he shuts the door, Dr. Kim levels the pair of you with a heavy gaze. You don’t know what that gaze means, but you know that something is going on in this village and that he and Namjoon seem to have some idea about it.

As soon as the door shuts, you turn to Namjoon and demand, “What is going on?”

He sighs. “Would you listen if I just said to wait it out?”

“Do you know who murdered Mr. Hatch?” 

Namjoon hesitates and shakes his head. You narrow your eyes, unbelieving. “I really don’t know who did, Red.”

“Why are you really here? Why all the secrets?” 

“I told you, my family protects those who belong to their community.”

“What did you mean about asking what the wolves want?” 

“I told you last night. There were wolves long before this village existed. Seems to me that if the wolves are suddenly killing the townspeople, perhaps it’s because they want their land back. Or maybe they’re angry from years of being hunted.”

That shuts you up. You can’t argue with that, exactly. But… “Are you saying that the wolves are capable of revenge?”

Namjoon stands and gestures to your cloak. “How often do you wear that?”

“Every day. It’s… sentimental to me.”

His eyes lighten and he offers a half smile. “Good. Red is a lucky color.”

“Where are you going?”

He opens the door, cold wind hissing past the opening. “Your mom is coming. I’ll see you later, Red.”

Without another word, Namjoon slips through the door and shuts it firmly behind him. You stare after him, openmouthed and confused. As promised, you hear your mother come up the steps, light feet scuffing before she quickly lets herself in, shutting the door firmly behind her.

You offer to make your mother breakfast, happy to help as she dozes in the chair. It isn’t until later that you wonder how Namjoon had heard her coming at all.

-

Little Lucy Larkin

In a little wood

Little Lucy Larkin

Up to no good

Little Lucy Larkin

In her little hood

Little Lucy Larkin

Ware of the woods!

Little Lucy Larkin

Stole a little bread

Little Lucy Larkin

In the woods of dread

Little Lucy Larkin

Is a little thief

Little Lucy Larkin

Die by wolf’s teeth

A sense of unease slithers up your spine as you pull your cloak closer. The voice of the children playing the Little Lucy Game echoes down the street and you pause to watch as the little boy playing Lucy steals the rock from the middle of the circle and the little boy playing the wolf gets up to chase him. 

The other kids scream and giggle as the boys give chase, the sound of their laughter eerie in the cold gray of twilight. Shaking it off, you turn and duck your head as you walk up the steps to the Tall Tales Inn. 

Warmth and the scent of food greet you. It’s a thinner crowd than the day before but still more people than you’re used to without the traders in town. There is a clear divide in the dining room with traders on one side and townsfolk on the other, the murder quick to make the locals distrust the new people in their streets.

Tense conversations hum in the gold light. You navigate around tables until you find Hoseok sitting with Seokjin. The sight of Seokjin gives you pause. He seems to sense your presence, glancing up and meeting your questioning stare. He gives no reaction, though, turning his attention back to Hoseok who is murmuring quietly.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Jin,” you say by way of greeting. Hoseok gives you a look at your clipped tone. You ignore it, sitting down and leveling the older man with a stare, his father’s mysteriousness weighing on you. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

He narrows his eyes a fraction. “Just enjoying the company of friends.”

“Shouldn’t you be helping the constable?”

“I’m on the late-night shift.” 

Grinding your teeth, you sit roughly. Hoseok just watches you, brows raised. You say nothing as you order a drink and a meal, picking at the splinters of the tabletop, eyeing Seokjin. If he’s put out by your rudeness he doesn’t show it, drinking heartily from his tankard and watching you with dark, even eyes. 

You know Seokjin knows whatever it is his father and Namjoon have been talking about. You yourself have not been able to work out what’s going on in the village, but you’re sure the Kims know. And if Dr. Kim asked you to lie to the constable… well perhaps Seokjin is leading him astray as well.

Hoseok pipes up, steering the conversation everywhere he can to avoid the tension building between you and Seokjin and the topics of murders. You participate as little as possible, mind trying to put together the puzzle pieces of the blooming mystery in your home. 

An uncomfortable thought starts to take root in your mind. Is it possible that the Kim family is behind the murders? Dr. Kim has plenty of weapons at his disposal, and they had been talking about revenge, and Dr. Kim had covered up what happened at the Marrow’s farm… but what did that have to do with wolves?

You’re not sure. But you do know that the Kims are purposefully hiding things, that there is a murderer somewhere in the town or near it, and that there is a sense of doom that you cannot shake, a dark itch like stinging nettle in your bones. 

Seokjin excuses himself to take an afternoon nap before his hunting party heads out for the evening. Your eyes track him as he goes. Seokjin certainly doesn’t seem evil, but there’s no telling what’s behind his pretty face. 

“What is wrong with you?” Hoseok asks, leaning over the table and whispering harshly. “You’re behaving rather odd.”

“Something is going on.”

“Yes, your attitude.”

You turn and glare at him. “No, Hobi. Something is going on with the Kim family. I don’t know how to explain it.” You grip your cup tighter. “But I intend to figure it out.” 

Hoseok questions you about what that means. You keep your answers vague, not wanting to rope him into your plan. Too often as children did you lure Hoseok into trouble, and with how dangerous night is becoming in your town, you know it’s a bad idea to endanger him too.

T sun sets over the village. You stand at your bedroom window, watching through the frosty window as the sun turns the sky into a smear of blood. The clouds have cleared away just for this sanguine sunset. It makes your stomach turn, a sense of foreboding heavy in the air.

Still, it doesn’t deter you. Red fades to gray-blue and gray-blue fades to black. Wind rattles the glass in the window pane. Turning from the window, you find your thickest pair of pants and fur-lined tunic. The fabric feels scratchy on your skin.

Dressed, you look at your red cloak folded on the bed. Any other night you would take it with you. It has become your safety net, something that keeps you warm and keeps you safe. You cannot recall a day you haven’t worn it since it mysteriously showed up thirteen years ago, but tonight, you need obscurity.

Instead, you reach for an old, thick cloak that used to belong to your father. It's dark brown and worn at the edges, a little too big for you as the hem brushes the ground. It will serve its purpose in keeping you hidden in the dark of the woods, though. 

All you grab is a hunting knife that you don’t know how to use, a wax candle, and a solid piece of flint and sharp rock to light it with. The candle and flint are for emergencies only. You hope it won’t be so dark that you cannot see, but you’re unsure what the clouds are going to do.

Outside, the wind is sharp. Your nostrils burn as you breathe it in and duck away behind your house. No new snow has fallen during the day, which is a good thing. You don’t have to worry about dragging your boots and tiring your calves. It also helps that the sky is clear tonight, the moon a sliver of sharp light. 

Baying hounds echo through the village and the forest as the hunting dogs lead the men into the woods. You’re quick on your feet, dashing into the woods and heading north. You don’t want to run right into the hunting party, but you do want to find their burning torches and keep them in your line of sight.

They are easy to find, hovering like orange fireflies in the distance. Careful to make your way in the dark, you follow them. Your breath mists in front of you, hands shaking more from the adrenaline than the cold. 

The torches spread out. You chew on your lip, unsure which group would belong to Seokjin. You take a gamble, heading after the group closest to you. 

Everything feels too loud. Each snap of a branch under your foot and crunch of dry leaves feels like it’s going to give you away. Still, you’re good at sneaking for the most part, having spent plenty of time skulking through the village to take nightly strolls in the woods.

Voices carry to you. Through a system of running a few steps forward and dodging behind a tree, you manage to follow the men at a distance. You think that you hear the constable’s voice, which is a good sign. If he’s around, perhaps Seokjin is too.

The deeper you go into the forest, the colder it gets. The ground beneath your feet slopes. The evergreens are packed tighter here, needles tickling your hands as you keep your hands held out from your sides as you slide downward.

This is near where I saved that wolf, you think. 

It’s true. You recognize the slope of the land and the general area. You cannot tell if it’s exactly where you met the wolf, but it’s close enough that your senses tingle and your eyes sweep the land, expecting something to happen.

A sense of foreboding trails you as the men move deeper into the wood. You turn around and look for the other torches and see nothing but a dark, compact forest. Your stomach flips uncomfortably but you continue, unsure now if it’s safer to turn back or to keep going. 

Ahead, the group of men decide to take a break. The hounds sniff the area around them, pulling at the leashes as they go. Crouching low, you watch as the hounds go in circles, following the scent of something that seems to confuse them. 

The men take long droughts of water, making you wish you’d thought of that. Mouth dry and hands cold, you huddle against a tree, bark digging into your back. 

A few minutes pace by. You close your eyes, resting your head against the tree, breathing cold air in deeply. You don’t know what you expect the group to lead you to, only that you-

Something snaps behind you. Your eyes fly open and your limbs lock. Heart beating like a steady drum, you hold your breath and strain your eyes. For a moment, there’s nothing but the dim voices of the men taking a break. You think it’s nothing until you hear something again, a gentle susurration of leaves. 

One of the hounds lifts its head, ears twitching. Your eyes scan the surrounding area back and forth, searching for what you know is there. 

It happens so fast that you don’t even see the wolves enter the ring of torchlight until they’re there, snarls rattling the trees. You clamp your hands over your mouth to mute your gasp as the sounds of screams and tearing flesh explode in the night. Hounds screech, their growls savage and choked as the wolves descend. 

You don’t know how many there are. Torch lights go down and drown you in darkness. Squeezing your eyes shut, you curl in on yourself, panting through your hands as the sounds echo in your ears. A new fear has stabbed its way between your ribs, making it hard to breathe. 

Time moves slowly. Or quickly. You cannot tell which. One moment the sounds of a nightmare turned real are just a few hundred yards away. The next, an eerie silence blankets the dark forest. 

You don’t want to open your eyes, but you have to. Very slowly, you crack an eye open. At first, there’s nothing. Your vision swims with flashing colors, your eyes trying to adjust. Then, there is the vague outline of trees. Ahead of you, where the men had been, lay shadowed piles. 

Shaking, you glance around. You see nothing - hear nothing. You stand slowly. Each inch you gain feels like you’re being too loud. Sweat gathers on the back of your neck. The cool air makes it feel like an icy finger brushing down your nape. 

When you’re sure that there’s nothing else around, you take a step toward where the attack happened. Leaves crunch beneath your feet. You stop breathing, waiting for signs of anything. Nothing happens and you let out a trembling breath, taking one more step. Again, you wait to see if your footfalls will trigger something. 

You repeat this to the edge of the slaughter - for that’s what it is. A slaughter. Bile rises in your throat as you reach the first body and stamped-out torch. The constable and his hound lay in tatters, only recognizable by the batch on his cloak. 

It is carnage. You don’t dare breathe through your nose for fear of breathing in the scent of death, circling the scene with weak knees, hand pressed to your mouth to keep in the whimpers. You see the faces of men you’ve known since you were a child. Ripped, bloodied, gored. 

Finally, you lean over and empty the contents of your stomach. It burns on the way up, choking you. Pressing a hand against a tree, you breathe raggedly. The adrenaline coursing through you makes you twitchy and unstable, each nerve feeling like it’s on fire. 

Leaves crunch a few feet away. Your head snaps in and you zero in on the source of the noise, mouth hanging open when you see Seokjin standing amongst the trees. He stares at you, frown on his face. 

“Who are you?” he asks, voice gentle. You realize he can’t see your face under the cowl of your hood and you’re not in your traditional red. He sighs. “Doesn’t matter.” 

You hear shuffling behind him before you see a white wolf. The white wolf from the Marrow farm. There are others, then. You don’t know how you missed them, the darkness of their fur blending in with the darkness around them.

The white one is spotted in red, muzzle matted, teeth slicked. Your stomach lurches. It isn’t hard to guess where it’s from. You take a step back and the wolf growls, lips pulled back. You freeze, looking amongst the pack of wolves that fan out around Seokjin, desperately looking for your wolf with the kind, intelligent eyes. 

You do not find him there. 

With a growl, the white wolf steps forward. Your instincts kick in and you turn and run, letting out a wild shriek as you do so. If Seokjin recognizes your voice when you scream, you cannot tell. The wolves are after you and you’re barreling through the trees with no hope of outrunning them, especially uphill.

A wolf nips at your ankle and you scream, tripping over your feet in your terror and going down hard. You’re jarred as you hit the ground, bones rattling as pain shoots up your limbs from the impact. Before you can scramble, there are teeth around your ankle, not biting down hard enough to snap, but hard enough to drag.

Your scream is wretched even to your ears. It is a curdling, nightmarish sound. You feel the scrape of leaves and sticks against your skin, cloak picking up dirt and twigs as you go. Your nails dig into the ground but the soil is frozen solid, fingers scraping bluntly against it. 

With a surge of self-preservation, you kick your free leg backward as hard as you can. You hit the wolf in the muzzle, making it cry, and let go of your foot. You manage to crawl to your knees, slipping in the foliage as you try to stand before it’s tearing at your cloak, determined to drag you one way or another. 

Sliding again as it drags you by the cloak, you try to undo the ties at your throat with shaking fingers. It comes away and frees you from the hellish drag to your death. This time, you’re faster to your feet, turning and running in the opposite direction. You don’t know where you’re going, just that you want to get away. 

Your foot slides on the incline and with a shout you go down. This time, your head hits the ground hard. Your ears ring and your vision pulses. Blinking, you roll over and stare up at the canopy of dark trees. The world spins dangerously and you feel nausea churn deep in your stomach.

“Yoongi!” you hear the deep voice but it sounds warbled like you’re hearing it through water. Your head lolls to the side, the ringing in your ears still going as you see feet pass you. “Enough!”

Your field of vision narrows to a sharp point, edges pulling with black. You realize you’re about to pass out, oddly just thankful that you’re already on the ground. Just as your world begins to face, the face of the person in front of you appears.

Namjoon. 

-

“Hey,” a gentle voice calls to you. There are soft hands on your head, brushing against your forehead. It smells like pine and bergamot as you snuggle into them. “I hate to wake you, but you need to wake up every few hours.”

The memory of the wolves comes to you. Your eyes snap open and you blink a few times before your vision adjusts to see Namjoon leaning over you. Cringing away from him, you press yourself into a warm, soft mattress that isn’t your own.

“Easy,” he cautions, holding his hands up. “You smacked your head very hard. I think you have a concussion.” 

“Where am I?” 

The room isn’t so much a room as it is a shack. There is a single fireplace in the far corner, a pile of logs, and the bed that you’re in. Despite the tiny space, it looks well-built and it’s warm, your heart slowing down as Namjoon leans to sit further from you and give you your space.

“Random shack in the woods near your village. I think it used to be a hunter’s stead for the winter.” He jerks his thumb toward the fireplace. “Hasn’t been used in a while. The wood has rotted.” 

“Seokjin - you - what is going on?” 

Emotions spill out of you like a broken dam. You don’t know which to acknowledge first: anger, fear, curiosity, gratitude. 

Namjoon’s sigh is heavy. He visibly looks wearing, running a hand through his hair. You wonder how soft his hair is, followed immediately by feeling ridiculous for the timing of said thought. 

“Just…” he winces. “Try to lean back and take it easy, I’m worried about how hard you hit your head. I promise I have no intentions of hurting you or letting anyone hurt me.”

“You called that white wolf Yoongi. Who is Yoongi? Why was Seokjin in the woods - those people - they’re dead.”

He nods slowly. “They are.” 

You lean back carefully. The bed is comfortable and Namjoon keeps his distance, worried eyes on you. “I will try to explain the best I can. It will require a little bit of faith that I’m not lying to you and that I’m not insulting your intelligence by telling you things that will sound insane.” 

“Like what?”

“Like werewolves exist.”

You stare at him. He doesn’t laugh, crack a grin, or do anything to make you believe he’s joking. Your first instinct is to blow him off. Werewolves were a tale for children and a way to help the children of the village cope during periods of wolf violence. 

Thus far, all Namjoon has done is protect you. Strange as it seems, you know that fact to be true. He didn’t tell Dr. Jim you were eavesdropping, he kept you company after Mr. Hatch’s murder, and he stopped the wolves from taking you.

Namjoon is… there is something between you. You know it.

Hesitantly, you say, “Alright. Werewolves exist. Keep going.”

He is visibly relieved that you’re not questioning or berating him. You don’t exactly believe him yet, but you want to hear his story. 

“There were communities of werewolves who lived here long before humans did. When people migrated to this area, they drove them out and forced those communities to become smaller and smaller. When the werewolves asked for their land back or to share resources, they were hunted and slaughtered.” 

Namjoon’s throat bobs and emotions flicker across his face. His features settle on pain, and you stop yourself from reaching out to take his hand. “What you vaguely remember as wolf attacks and wolf hunts as a child was those families being exterminated. There are a few families in the village who remember that werewolves exist. They took it upon themselves to remove the problem forever.”

This village has a complicated history. 

Dr. Kim’s words float through your mind as you chew on what Namjoon has told you. He lets the information settle, giving you a few moments to think. You don’t recall anyone seriously ever talking about werewolves but… 

“They’re angry,” you murmur, remembering how San described the massacre at the Mathesons. “The wolves now - those aren’t wolves. They’re werewolves who are getting revenge. You spoke of revenge with Dr. Kim. Is that why the animal attacks have been happening?”

Namjoon nods grimly. “There is a very small concentration of people in the village who keep the secret about the massacres and the knowledge of werewolves. Those families have been… targeted recently. They still hunt werewolves when they can.”

“Who is Yoongi?”

“Ah,” he lets out a humorless laugh. “He leads the last remaining community of werewolves. His family was murdered by your constable when he was a child.” You blanch. “Yoongi is angry, vengeful, and very influential. When he was voted pack alpha, he decided to eliminate the last remaining threats.” 

“He’s the white wolf.” Namjoon raises his brows but nods. You think that makes sense, remembering the white wolf at the Marrow farm and the one who dragged you in the forest. “Why was Seokjin there? Did he lead the constable to-”

Namjoon hesitates and nods. “The Kim family are wolf friends. It’s largely the reason Dr. Kim is a veterinarian. They’re what we call one foot in the forest. There were two others in your village that were wolf friends. Your neighbor was one.”

You twist your fingers in the blanket. “Did Yoongi-”

“No. I believe he was murdered by one of the men who knows what Yoongi and his people are.” 

“So that’s why Seokjin led them to Yoongi?” Namjoon gives a curt nod. “This is…. A lot to take in.” 

“It is. Sleep a little more and we’ll talk about it more when you wake up. Your head is already swimming enough, yeah?”

Namjoon’s grin is gentle and you shoot one back. “Do you promise to tell me why you’re really here? And why it feels like I know you?”

“Of course. Sleep, Red.”

-

Namjoon wakes you again a few hours later. This time, it’s with water. It’s cool and fresh, soothing your aching head and waking up your sleepy senses. He lets you drain the entire thing, sitting thoughtfully at the end of your bed. 

This time, you feel more alert. Sitting up carefully, you cross your legs and examine him. He’s dressed in simple clothes and a jacket, the fireplace throwing an orange glow on his face. Again, you’re struck with how much you could swear you know him, like his eyes are something you know and love. 

He waits for you to get settled, placing your hands in your lap. You fiddle with the edge of your tunic, drinking him in. Strong shoulders, rough hands, tawny skin. Your heart does a flip before you shove away thoughts of how pretty he is to think about what he’s told you so far.

“I have questions.”

He smiles and it’s as warm as the fire behind him. “Of course you do.”

“Did the werewolves kill my father?”

You get the tough one out of the way first. It was a thought you had just before you slept, wondering if your father had been someone who helped the constable murder Yoongi’s family. Though you have decided to dislike the white wolf very strongly, you can’t help but pity him.

“No,” Namjoon says vehemently. “After you told me about your father, I did some asking around. He was a wolf friend. That’s why he didn’t hunt big game, Red. He knew about us.” 

A tight feeling works its way up your throat. The relief and anger you feel is a double-edged sword, happy that he didn’t contribute to the displacement Namjoon is speaking of and angry that you know with every bone in your body that he was murdered. The instinct speaks to you the same way it tells you that you know Namjoon. 

You look up at him sharply, realizing something. “What do you mean ‘he knew about us’? Us?” 

Namjoon’s eyes are dark. He regards you intensely, making you shiver. Slowly, Namjoon begins to roll one of his sleeves. Your eyes drop to his hand as he does, long fingers meticulous. He bares his skin and holds his hand out to you, displaying the jagged, white scar that lopes around his wrist. 

Without thinking twice, you reach out to him, pulling his hand toward you. His skin is warm, sending a tingle through your fingertips. His palm is large and rough, your fingers delicate as you flip it to face the ceiling, eyes glued to the scarring around his wrist.

You move your fingers over his palm gently, scraping the calluses as you go. He lets you do what you want, touch stopping at his wrist bone before glancing up at him. His eyes are impossibly dark and he nods, urging you forward. 

The scarring is rough. Thick, ropey lines encircle his wrist like his hand was ravished by teeth. It makes you faintly think of Yoongi’s teeth around your ankle or -

“You,” you breathe, eyes meeting his. They are the same warm, intelligent, and welcoming eyes of the wolf you’d saved all those years ago. The wolf who had stood between you and the others at the Marrow farm. The wolf you dream about every night. “I saved you?”

His throat bobs. “You did.”

“I… that’s why it feels like I know you.” Your fingers trace his scar, almost fondly. Namjoon’s eyes flutter. “I do know you. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He smirks. “‘Hi, my name is Namjoon and I can turn into a wolf whenever I want and you saved me a few years ago and I’ve been thinking about you ever since’ is not exactly a great opening.” 

“Better than ‘you know most people who don’t want to be seen don’t wear a red cloak’.” He scrunches his nose. Cute. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s alright. I’ll talk if you’re willing to listen?”

You nod, not letting go of his hand. Now that you know who and what he is, any residual fear is gone. You scoot toward him, wanting to be closer. “I want to know.”

“Giho is my uncle like I said. He’s not a werewolf, though. That trait passed through my mom’s side of the family. Still, he was family and he knew about the werewolves that my father married into. He's a wolf friend and does what he can to help us, including making house calls and stealing us goods in harsh winters.”

“Huh. I always just thought he was a quiet, grumpy vet.”

“He is very much that, but he has also been a lifeline. He helps Yoongi far more than he should. It puts him in danger. His wife was killed for being a wolf friend. Giho was left alone simply because he is useful to the village.” Your fingers squeeze his hand at the hurt in his voice. “That night you found me… I was pretty young then. Fourteen, to be exact. I was nosing around the village that everyone was so afraid of and never saw the trap. I cannot emphasize how much you saved my life.” 

“It seemed like the right thing to do. I was afraid but you were… hurt. And your eyes were so kind. I don’t regret it.”

“What a relief.” You smile, genuinely happy. “I was worried you might after finding out my family were sort of… killing people.”

“When you put it that way,” you wince. “But I do believe you. That humans drove you out. That people are hurting you and your people. You don’t deserve it and I… don’t think I am in a position to offer moral arguments to what you’re doing.”

“I knew I liked you.”

“You barely know me.”

Namjoon turns his hand and catches yours, lacing your fingers. Your heart skitters as he pulls you a little close and leans, eyes narrowed playfully. “Hmm, sorry. I wasn’t really allowed to come hang out around your town, Little Red.” 

“Why did you finally come? Is it to help Yoongi?”

He shakes his head. “I only have one goal.”

“Which is?”

“To keep you safe.” That quiets you. Namjoon doesn’t meet your eyes when he continues, “You showed me such kindness, I just wanted to repay you. I liked to keep an eye on you when I could, always from a safe distance. You might not know me, but I grew up knowing you.”

Your mouth goes dry at his words. For someone who poses such a threat, Namjoon is gentle. Soft. Kind. You swallow past the lump in your throat. “Did you give me the red cloak?” 

“Yeah. It was to mark you as a friend. We give them to those who are under our protection.” He narrows his eyes. “Which is why Yoongi swears he didn’t know it was you in the woods tonight. Seokjin’s eyesight is too piss poor to realize it was you. Idiots.”

“Well if you know about me, tell me about you. What’s your favorite color? What do you like to eat? What's your favorite thing about being a wolf?”

So Namjoon does tell you. You both end up sitting on the bed next to one another, arms touching as he traces the lines on your palm. Your backs are pressed against the wall, feet dangling off the edge of his bed as he tells you about his childhood. 

It is fascinating hearing about the dynamics of his community but it’s also sad. Hearing how they live in fear, hearing how so many of the people he knows are gone. Realizing that the things he tells you match up with things you realize about your own community. 

Sadness sinks to the bottom of your gut like a rock. It isn’t pity that you feel, but something far more profound. It’s regret that you didn’t know any better. Frustration that he has suffered. A radical feeling of anger and desire for justice knowing you lived in comfort while Namjoon and his family suffered. 

There are good parts, too. Namjoon recalls happy moments and blushes when he recalls seeing you a few times. It doesn’t feel weird or strange, knowing someone was looking out for you. It feels comforting, like old friends catching up. 

Namjoon’s eyes sparkle as he tells you about his favorite books. You don’t know when you stop listening to him and start staring, but it’s inevitable. You love the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, dimple making an appearance as he recalls a story about putting Yoongi in the dirt with his brother, Taehyung’s help. You love the way he gestures wildly with his hands, every word evocative and enthusiastic. 

He’s the kind of person you would have been friends with had he grown up with you. And maybe a little more, you think, watching Namjoon watch you. His gaze is even and heated, making you squirm. His mouth twitches and you’re so sure that he knows he makes you nervous.

“I never thanked you,” you mention. He hums in question, letting you go back to tracing his scare delicately. He twitches and you grin. Good. “For saving me from the jaws of Yoongi.”

“Ah, that. I think he knew it was you. There’s a reason he dragged you instead of killing you on the spot.”

“Huh. Well, that’s very rude.”

“He’s good at that.”

“You sound fond, still.”

He nods. “I love Yoongi. Is my brother, in a way.”

“Well still. Thank you.” 

You look up at Namjoon. You’re sitting so close, shoulders pressed against one another. He smells like pine and bergamot, your favorite scent. It’s heady, awakening a foreign ache in you. Your heart speeds up as you lean into him just a little more, watching him through your lashes.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he rumbles, voice deep. 

Your toes curl. “Like what?” 

“LIke you wanna do more than just thank me.”

“Maybe I do.”

“I know.” 

Ah. You start to pull away and turn your head, realizing that he’s not interested, but Namjoon catches your chin with his other hand, tilting you back toward him. Your heart stalls when he looks down at your mouth, then back up to your eyes. “I’ve known you for all my life. Not how I wanted, but I’ve known you nonetheless. But you haven’t had the chance to know me.”

“I want to. I feel like I have known you. Like I knew you were always there.”

“Is this what you want?”

This. Namjoon. Whatever is crackling between you. The thing that has sparked since the moment he caught you eavesdropping. It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t have to make sense. 

Namjoon makes sense though. The way his gaze softens when he sees you. The way he looms on the edge of your life, a silent protector. The way he could do so much damage but is soft instead. The way everything about him feels like the sun on a summer day, like a field of wildflowers in spring.

He must sense you tipping over the edge. His grip on your chin becomes firm and he tilts your face toward him, leaning down to press his warm, full mouth against yours. The effect is instantaneous. You melt into him, sighing as a feeling of belonging slots into place.

The kiss is chaste. Namjoon pulls away and your lashes flutter. You hadn’t even realized your eyes closed. His gaze is dark and half-lidded, his face close enough that you feel his breath. His lips have stoked a fire in you and you want more, you want to spill out the years of longing for something you didn’t know was there, for the sudden confirmation that he’d been there all along.

Surging forward, you press your lips to his again. This time, it’s searing, your mouth fierce as you push up off of the bed. Namjoon falls in your rhythm easily, hand leaving your chin to grab you by the waist and pull you into his lap.

Knees slotted on either side of him, you pour everything you have into the kiss. Your fingers card through his thick hair, silky strands sliding between them like you knew they would. His lips are soft on yours, mouth warm as you break the seal of the kiss with your tongue.

Namjoon lets out deep, throaty sounds. It coaxes the flame inside of you to a roar, tongue tangling with his. It’s wet and messy and a little impractical but you don’t feel embarrassed or nervous. It’s Namjoon. It feels like home. 

Pleasure tingles down your spine. Namjoon grips your hips, fingers digging into your flesh. It feels hot and your skin is burning up, static trapped between your chests where they’re pressed together. Your hips twitch, tentatively seeking friction in his lap. Namjoon responds immediately, pulling your hips toward him and letting you roll. 

Your mouths part but Namjoon doesn’t stop kissing you. You pant while he presses his mouth to your chin and jawline, tongue tough against the softness of your skin. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he growls. You tilt your head back, letting him pepper your throat. “You have no idea.”

“I always felt like something was missing. I think it was you.”

Namjoon moans at your admission. The heat between your legs is almost painful. One of Namjoon’s hands goes from your waist to between your legs, cupping you. You gasp back bowing as he presses firmly, deft fingers providing mind-numbing pleasure.

“That feels good.” You fist the collar of his shirt and squeeze your eyes. You feel tense, color exploding behind your closed lids. “Don’t stop.”

“Whatever you want,” he whispers. He pulls you in close, fingers curling. Your hips buck and you realize it isn't enough. You need the barrier of clothes gone. You want it more than anything. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Yes.”

You do know. It’s second nature. You knew even that day in the street when you’d first seen him. Just like Namjoon knows what you want and need, land leaving the apex of your thighs to help you off his lap and onto the bed under him. 

There’s a confidence in his movements that makes the room spin. Long forgotten are the wolf attacks and Yoongi’s teeth around your ankle. Here, it’s only the rasp of your pants against your skin as Namjoon pulls them down. It’s only the heat of his skis as you yank on his tunic, desperate to feel him.

Namjoon does run hot. His skin is burning up as your hands explore his firm chest. He captures your lips again, sucking your bottom lip in his mouth as he spreads your legs open with a knee. You shake under his touch, equal parts eager and stimulated. 

He’s so, so gentle as he caresses your inner thigh. When he brings his fingers to your sticky center, you let out a pitiful whine. Namjoon pauses, fingers pressed to your swollen kiss as he laughs and breaks the kiss, forehead pressed against yours.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout, leaning your head up to bite his chin. “It feels good.”

He gives you a quick kiss. Once. Twice. “Good. I want to make you feel good.” 

Namjoon circles his middle finger lazily around your clit. Your feet press into the bed, hips pulling up off the sheets. It feels amazing, pleasure sparking in your stomach. “That,” you gasp. “I like that.” 

He dips his head down, attaching his mouth to your neck as he teases your cunt. You don’t have to say anything else, Namjoon’s inquisitive fingers learning what makes you squirm and sigh. You’re a mess beneath him, chest heavy, beats of sweat making your shirt cling to you.

You claw at it, pulling it away from you. Namjoon leans up and lets you take it off, eyes dipping as he smiles appreciatively. He combines the efforts of his fingers with his mouth, bending low to catch a pert nipple with his teeth.

“Shit!” you squeak, making him chuckle again.

His fingers circle your clenching hole, pussy leaking onto his fingers. He presses a finger in and you let out a long, quiet whine. The feeling of his finger pressing against your walls is perfect, your cunt clenching as he shallowing thrusts the finger.

Everything he does is perfect. He sucks at your nipple hungrily as he fingers you slowly, making sure to press up inside your cunt in a way that has you seeing stars. Your fingers tangle in his hair, unable to think about anything except his teeth scraping your sensitive bud and your pussy clenching around his finger.

Namjoon is attentive. The heel of his hand presses to your clit and he eases another finger in, slower than the last. He looks up at you, mouth slick with spit to watch your mouth fall open. You nod, urging him further, sound stuck in your throat. 

The wet squelch between your legs as he fucks you with his fingers is obscene. You like it though, driven by the fact that it’s Namjoon doing it. Namjoon who you saved. Namjoon who watched over you. 

You open your eyes and look up at him, cradling his face in your hands. His forehead is damp with sweat from the heat building in the little shack. His skin is flushed and his hair hangs in his face. You pull at his bottom lip with your thumb and he gazes at you, hungry and wild, pupils blown.

Greedy, you pull him to you. The kiss is more teeth than lips, the two of you panting. Your leg hooks around his waist and you nibble his bottom lip, hips rolling to meet his thrusts, an orgasm starting its ascent. 

“I want you,” you breathe against his mouth. Your lips are sore from arduous kissing. “Please.”

He kisses you. “Okay.”

It’s that simple. You ask for it and he gives it to you.

Namjoon retracts his fingers from your cunt. You feel the sudden loss, fidgeting as you wait. He makes quick work of his pants, kneeling on the bed and bringing his hands covered in your juice to pump his cock. You feel your eyes bulge at his thick length. 

He notices and grins, slowing his movements. You watch as his hand smears precum down his shaft, twisting lightly as he gets to the top, his thumb brushing over his dark tip. “You can take it,” he pants, grinning wolfishly. “I know you can.”

Instead of answering, you nod, lifting your hips eagerly. He hums, pleased as he lets go, cock bobbing heavily while he shuffles over and leans over you. He places his hands on either side of your head, arms flexing as he holds his weight to bend down and steal a quick kiss. 

You kiss back feverishly, one hand traveling between your sweaty bodies to grip his length, trying to stroke him the way he did. He sighs, breaking the kiss and dropping his forehead against your chin as a shiver ripples through him. You smile, continuing to pump him.

“Want to be inside,” he mumbles, barely coherent. 

You open yourself up more, gently guiding the blunt crown of his cock toward your trembling entrance. You hold your breath as his hips follow your hand, breaching your ring of tight muscles and pushing in. 

Immediately your muscles spasm and resist, overwhelmed by Namjoon’s girth. You blow out a long breath as he enters you so, so slowly. It’s heaven and it’s hell, it’s pleasure and it’s pain. Namjoon presses his mouth to you, tongue distracting you as he bottoms out, stuffing you full.

Nothing has ever compared to how stretched you are. He doesn’t move, letting your cunt twitch around him. He holds himself up with one hand, the other brushing up and down your side, squeezing bits of flesh comfortingly as you try to still your beating heart under him.

The pain fades. You get greedy, wiggling your hips back and forth experimentally to feel the way Namjoon’s cock rubs against your walls. He blows out air sharply, a half laugh before his hand drops down to your hip, pushing you down into the bed with his weight as he slides backward.

“Ohhhh,” you sigh, head lolling to the side. The pressure of Namjoon pressing you down as he sets a slow pace of fucking into you is just right. You close your eyes, letting him set a slow pace in silence. “Yeah.” 

Namjoon’s breath is unsteady. Every little sound he makes sets you on fire. You’re pliant beneath him as he picks up his speed, properly fucking into you. One of your hands reaches up to grab his bicep, nails digging in, the other shooting to his hand on your hip, squeezing his wrist. 

Everything feels right. Connected. Overheated. The air is so thick you think you might suffocate, sheets sticking to your balmy skin, toes curling as Namjoon’s cock hits that spot inside of you that drives you mad. 

Nothing but this matters. Nothing but knowing your wolf isn’t really a wolf at all, and that he’s been there all along. Just like you’d hoped. 

“Fuck,” Namjoon pants. “I never dreamed I’d have you.”

“I dreamed of you,” you gasp on a particularly hard thrust, your nails dragging down his arm. “I just didn’t know it.”

His mouth crashes to yours. “Mine,” he growls. “My savior, mine to protect.” 

Your orgasm spins like an out-of-control spool of thread, winding tighter and tighter. Namjoon can tell, chasing your orgasm with reckless abandon, throwing his gentle movements out the window and fucking you hard into the bed. 

The sounds and words coming out of your mouth are useless babble, your thoughts turning murky as that spool tightens so much inside of you that it bursts, unspooling and spilling out of you around Namjoon’s cock. 

You can’t even breathe as you come, feet kicking, nails digging into his skin, teeth clenched. Your heart beats in your ears, the only thing you can hear for a few seconds as you spasm, eyes clenched shut. You are vaguely aware of Namjoon coming shortly after you, your name ripping through clenched teeth as he does. 

There are a few minutes of nothing punctuated by your stilted breathing and rapid pulse. Finally, you blink, stars swimming in your eyes as you look at Namjoon, who hangs his head on your chest. You reach a hand up and run your fingers through his sweaty hair.

Your wolf. Somehow you’d always known it. Even when you thought you were crazy. 

Gently, Namjoon pulls out of you, fluid spilling between your legs. You don’t care, limbs too heavy to move. Your skin is still burning up from exertion and you roll your head to the side to watch Namjoon as he lays next to you, pulling you toward him. 

For a little while, it’s quiet. You listen to the beating of his heart, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. You’re content just to lay there feeling whole just for once. 

After a while, Namjoon sighs. “You have to go back eventually.”

“We.”

“Hmm?”

“We have to go back.”

Namjoon pulls away and frowns at your tone, eyes reading your face. Your mouth is set in a firm line and you look at him with all seriousness. “We’re not letting them get away with what the humans did to you and your family.”

“You want to help?”

“Yes.” You pause. “I think it’s what my father would have wanted. It’s what I want. Even if Yoongi bit me.”

“Yoongi will never bite you again,” he vows fiercely. Then, a little more gently, “But he… would be glad to hear your sympathetic stance. I’m glad to hear it, Red.”

“Good.” You snuggle closer. “You’re mine to protect too. And I will make them pay.”

For Namjoon. For your father. You’ll paint the village red. 

[yanderestarangel]

hello! i just found your blog and i've been obsessed with your writing <33 can i request a smut with a poly relationship with johnny and kenshi. i feel like they'd be so drastically different but work so well together in bed

HEADKANONKS MK1 | KENSHI TAKAHASHI X JOHNNY CAGE X READER

TW: afab anatomy, fluff, soft headcanons, threesome, smut, nsfw, double penetration, blowjob, kenshi and Johnny make out with each other, gay sex, anal sex, vibrators, ice play, switch!reader, sub!johnny, dom!kenshi, daddykink.

♡ A relationship with both of them at the same time would be quite an adventure. Kenshi is the balance between you and Johnny - he knows that if he leaves you two alone, you and Johnny might do crazy things and end up in jail, like the time you two accidentally set one of Johnny's cars on fire on a public street. -Kenshi had to pay the two of you bail, with Johnny's money of course -

♡ The three of you have a group on WhatsApp, everything you need to talk about you will talk about in that chat, be it gossip, news or even asking where each one is, when the other is away, you named your boyfriend's contact as "gay son " and "thot daughter" - I don't even need to say who is who, right? -

♡ Kenshi has the love language serving, showing that he cares about you and Johnny, if you ask to be carried or a glass of water or anything within his reach, he will do it.

Example: You, Kenshi and Johnny watching a movie on Saturday night, on Cage's king size bed, Kenshi on the left side, you in the middle and Johnny lying on your thighs as he took Kenshi's hand too. You felt thirsty but were too lazy to get up and help yourself, soon turning to Takahashi.

"-Can you get me a glass of water, my love?" -You asked calmly, smiling at the man who just waved and stood up.

"-Can you get it for me too baby girl?" -Johnny said laughing to Kenshi who gave the middle finger in response to the actor.

"-What's up Takahashi? I'm your boyfriend too!" -Cage said in response, as he looked at you pouting, you soon asked Kenshi to bring it to Johnny too, and he obeyed - he was already going to do it anyway, but he loved seeing Johnny beg and get angry and you knew it, affectionately in your other partner's hair.

♡ Johnny Cage has a different language, he likes to spend money on you and Kenshi, shopping in luxurious malls, sports cars, branded watches, everything you and Kenshi imagine and want is yours, just ask and Cage will move mountains if it takes to see you two smile.

♡ You live in Johnny's mansion, in the same room, in the same bed. If you're not used to sharing a bed, it's best to get used to it. Johnny will hug you, suffocating you on his chest, it's an uncontrollable and involuntary gesture of his, while placing one of his muscular thighs on top of you. Kenshi sleeps straight, with his stomach up, but sometimes he will also do the same as Johnny with you - you could barely breathe due to the weight of them together -

♡ Kenshi lends you his clothes, but tells you not to pass them on to Johnny, which you disobey and do the opposite, sometimes Johnny himself asks you to take Takahashi's shirts for him to wear, all to tease the poor swordsman.

"-I thought I asked for my shirt for you to wear, not Cage." -Kenshi said, laughing aside, watching Johnny parade around the house in his red satin shirt.

"-This blouse looks better on me than on you Takahashi, that's why our dear (Y/N) lent it to me." -Johnny said, giving you a kiss, and then another one with Kenshi, making him agree and not be angry with you two.

♡ Johnny will always take you two to his awards, he doesn't care about judgement, he has two extremely hot partners by his side, why would he be embarrassed?

♡ Kenshi and Johnny get along well, that is, your relationship has almost no fights, if you are insecure about something, especially with them being together more and leaving you out, they will sit down and talk, it's a little scary because it was The first time you saw Johnny was extremely serious, saying that he loves you equally as he loves Kenshi, and that he would never leave either of you for anything.

♡ They can work very well together in bed to give you pleasure, Kenshi loves being rougher and more dominant, watching you squirm and beg for him, Johnhy makes you excited and satiates you at the same time, he can't contain his dick in his pants. seeing you beg so beautifully for him and Kenshi to fuck you.

♡ Johnny likes to fuck your pussy with his fingers and tongue, while Kenshi loves watching you squirm, Johnny's fingers go on your clit while Takahashi pushes his dick into your pussy, both of them smiling as he sees you moan and turn into a crying mess. Cage would help Kenshi's dick enter you further or even suck Takahashi's dick while lying on your belly, to help lubricate the way.

♡ They both like to give double blowjobs, that is, your poor mouth will have both of their cocks at the same time, while they both smile and moan in unison, kissing each other sometimes while praising you for taking their cock so well.

♡ The three of you like to tease each other outside too, using vibrators. You would use a small internal oval, inside your pussy. Johnny would use it on his dick and inside him, while Kenshi used one only on his dick, the adrenaline was not knowing who would activate the speed or increase it, ending with Kenshi fucking Johnny while Johnny fucked you hard - Kenshi between Johnny's legs and you sitting down with your pussy in the movie star's mouth.

♡ They also like to do double penetration, with Kenshi going in your ass and Cage in your pussy, they accelerate the rhythm together, holding you between the two of them, while Johnny praises you, Kenshi degrades you...

♡ Kenshi will play with ice on your nipples, while Johnny used the cube to rub it on your clit, while you were blindfolded, completely at the mercy of both of them - you would have to guess which dick was entering your pussy at that moment, Kenshi's or Johnny's , both are thick and big, so you would have to use maximum touch to find out -

♡ When one or the other is tired, you can fuck him, you can always turn to your other partner. If Kenshi is too tired Johnny will fuck you on the mattress moaning and whimpering while Takahashi sleeps. If Johnny is too tired, Kenshi will fuck you all over the mansion and record the fuck for Cage to watch later - and obviously tease him -

♡ Johnny will also want to be fucked by you, don't have a dick? just grab a strap on and fuck his ass, he'll whimper at you while calling you "daddy/mommy" muffled by Kenshi's dick in his mouth.

Johnny smirks against your clit, his tongue swirling and flicking expertly, his lips occasionally sucking gently. The sensation sends shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. Meanwhile, Kenshi groans softly as you take him into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat. His hand finds its way to your hair, gripping it gently, guiding your movements. You can feel the intensity building in both of them, their desire for you palpable in every touch and caress.

Johnny, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses along your inner thigh, slowly moves up your body, his eyes locked with yours. He positions himself between your thighs, his erection pressing against your entrance. Kenshi, still enjoying the lust of your mouth, watches with an intense gaze. Johnny, lost in the waves of pleasure, moans deeply, his grip on your hips tightening. As Kenshi's thrusts grow more intense, he leans over Johnny, his voice dripping with domination.

"-You're such a greedy little slut, Johnny..." Kenshi sneers, his tone laced. "-Taking pleasure from both ends, unable to get enough. Look at you, being fucked like the naughty little whore you are." A mischievous smile tugs at your lips as you witness Kenshi pulling out of Johnny, leaving him panting and needy. You lock eyes with Johnny. Slowly, you lower yourself onto his hard cock, your tightness enveloping him completely.

Johnny's eyes widen with pleasure as he fills you, his grip on your hips tightening in an attempt to control his own urges. You move your body in slow, tantalizing motions, savoring the feeling of him deep inside you.

Meanwhile, Kenshi positions himself behind Johnny once again, his hands firmly gripping his hips. With a single fluid motion, he pushes back into Johnny's willing ass, eliciting a chorus of mixed moans and gasps from all three of you. Johnny's body trembles, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he nears the edge of pleasure. He looks up at you with a mix of desire and desperation, his voice strained as he fights for control. "-Please...please let me cum. I need to release, to feel the warmth of your pussy and the grip of Kenshi's dick..."

Kenshi, his grip on your breasts tightening, thrusts into Johnny with a renewed vigor, adding to the overwhelming sensations coursing through all of you. Your eyes lock with Johnny's, a knowing smirk on your face as you give him permission to release. "-Cum for us, Johnny. Coat me with your warmth and feel the pleasure surge through you as Kenshi fills your tight ass."

With a final thrust, he pours his lust into your awaiting pussy, moaning out your name in ecstasy.

Simultaneously, Kenshi finds his release inside Johnny's willing ass, his body shuddering with pleasure and fulfillment. The intensity of the moment overwhelms you, the sensation of being filled from both ends heightening your own pleasure.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[jeongheart]

super shy

summary: he's been receiving these letters for the past year but, he doesn't know your name, does he?

w.c: 7.1k.

tags: friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life.

a.n: this is the longest fic i ever written omg, i've been playing new jeans latest comeback for a few days and this is the result lol. as always, english is not my first language so sorry in advance for any mistakes. leave your thoughts if you liked it, means a lot!

It was there again.

Sitting immaculately on top of his messy folders, the envelope was white without any type of decoration, the owner of the cursive handwriting wouldn't even risk placing a sticker since it could give a clue, even minimal, about who was behind it.

The classroom was almost empty, since recess ended a few minutes ago and the students were still lazily getting up from the grass where they were lying, not wanting to lock themselves in a room again for hours while the day was shining beautifully outside the building.

However, Chan looked around him, narrowing his eyes as he scanned his classmates for the smallest trace of uneasiness as he took the envelope in his hands. But he didn't find any, unless the author had a master's degree in poker face no one around him seemed interested in what he was doing.

After the failed scrutiny, he sat down again with no care on the wooden bench, eager to read what that person had to say today. This excited feeling was new for him, the letters had been arriving about a year ago, right at the beginning of the new semester and at first, Chan found it funny. Surely one of his friends (he bet his life on either Seungmin or Minho, those two were always up to something no matter how much they said they weren't) found it fun to piss him off this year, after all, it has been a long time since his last relationship and sometimes he felt the need of affection, so the "joke" made perfect sense in his head.

He didn't read them the first few months, he just crumpled them up and kept them in a hidden place in his backpack, to let whoever was behind them know that he wasn't interested. But they kept coming even after that vile act against someone's real feelings; and that was when Chan began to question if there really was a person genuinely interested in him, interested enough to send him handwritten letters as if they were living in a classic romance novel. The person had a beautiful vocabulary, and it was clear that they paid attention to details that he didn't even noticed about himself.

The notes weren't very long since they didn't exceed ten lines, but each word was full of admiration and affection. They always reminded him to eat and take care of his health, in addition to telling him day by day one of the qualities why his mysterious person had fallen in love with him. Chan blushed every time he read those reasons, it was no secret (to himself, since he didn't like others to know) that he didn't think very highly of himself; from his point of view there was nothing nice or admirable about his existence. But this person believed just the opposite, and they had made their life's mission to let him know that every day.

Today was no exception, the lined sheets were a pastel color (pink? orange?) and had small animal decorations at the bottom and top (he noticed that these came in "groups", the representative animal of these last ten notes was a smiling giraffe). It was incredibly adorable, and Chan found himself laughing softly every time he took out the contents of the envelope.

'Mondays are always hard! Especially this time of year (can't the professors trust in me and my knowledge of things? I don't see the need for them to take a test).

Anyway, Channie, this weekend I found myself thinking a lot about you, every time I start writing my reasons I feel like I'm going to be left speechless but then I remember that it's not difficult at all to love you. So here is another one:

Your resilience, I greatly admire your ability to always get up no matter how many blows life throws at you. The vast majority of us feel discouraged by the slightest inconvenience, but not you. And that is something incredible.

I hope you have a beautiful start to the week, remember to eat your meals and feel the sun.

Fondly,'

And that's how all the letters ended, the author seemed to hesitate every time they traced the last line, he could feel the uncertainty even on the paper. Chan knew that they were shy and always wondered when they were going to stop being to finally sign with their name and be able to meet that person who stole his heart with every word.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

He was reading the note, hunched over his things, almost shielding the contents of the paper from the prying eyes of anyone who passed by him. You knew he was going to do it (he always did) but you couldn't stop your heart from racing like it was the first time it happened. You watched him from the hallway, hiding behind one of your textbooks while a silly smile appeared on your face, nothing made you happier than making him happy with your words, it's true what people say about "butterflies in the stomach" because that was what you were feeling right now.

His eyes crinkled in the most adorable way possible every time he smiled and from your spot in the hallway you could almost hear the sigh he let out after finishing reading the letter. After scanning his surroundings one last time, Chan placed the paper back into the envelope, and carefully placed it inside his notebook.

"You and your Shakespeare complex again" The sudden voice of your best friend so close made you jump in your place and drop the book you had in your hands. It hit the ground with a dull sound due to the thickness of its contents, and when you picked up the book again you turned around to face the figure of the perpetrator. He just laughed at you and your reaction, which earned him a closed-fist blow directly to his shoulder.

"You deserve it" You didn't even bother to return his reproachful gaze since he clearly felt like fighting, and instead, you returned your focus to Chan's classroom and his figure. He was no longer in his seat and you didn't want to look weird by leaning out the window door to look for him. So you sighed heavily and leaned your body against the wall while closing your eyes.

Until you felt Jeongin's presence come to your side "Are you going to tell him sometime?"

You didn't answer him.

Well, actually you did, with a growl that could mean either 'I'll do it today, stop bothering' or 'not even dead'. However, the blonde wasn't satisfied with your interpretation of an animal as a response and he began poking your ribs with his long fingers, drawing high-pitched sounds of protest from your lips.

"Stop it, Innie" You moved his hands away from your figure and stood firmly looking him in the eyes like a mother who is trying to discipline her misbehaving son. He crossed his arms with a satisfied smile crossing his face with foxlike features and, with a movement of his head, he invited you to speak.

"What do you want me to say? 'Hello Chan! It's me, the person who has been sending you letters like a fifteen-year-old for a year now. I've been in love with you since the moment I saw you at my best friend's house. Do you want to be my boyfriend?" You rolled your eyes tiredly and didn't wait for Jeongin to tell you what he thought, and so you started walking towards your classroom, with an exasperated five foot seven boy following closely behind you.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

You still remembered the first time you'd seen him, and how couldn't you. His presence could illuminate even the darkest corner, and his personality attracted anyone around him.

It was the summer, and you'd gone to Jeongin's house to spend an afternoon together. The air conditioning in your apartment had broken two days ago, and you couldn't stand being in your room for another second, which was already beginning to feel like an industrial oven. When you arrived at your best friend's residence, you weren't surprised by the fact that there were more people than just the two of you. Jeongin was taking singing lessons at a nearby academy and had hit it off with some of his classmates; so while you didn't know them as well as he did, you had the chance to hang out with some of them a couple of times and you could say that they were the funniest guys you'd ever come across. Especially Hyunjin, who seemed to be like a glove with your best friend.

Jeongin's house felt cold, as if winter had come only for the Yang family and, although you shivered with every step you took towards the kitchen where voices could be heard, this felt like paradise compared to the hell you lived in your house (and you even thought it was cooler in hell).

Reaching the kitchen, you heard Hyunjin's melodious voice followed by his nasal, boisterous laughter at a comment Jeongin made. You shook your head laughing inwardly as you pushed the wooden door open to enter the space, the boys turning their heads in your direction as they heard the hinges snapping back into place.

Your best friend gave you his characteristic smile as he got up from his seat on one of the stools in front of the kitchen island to give you a small hug "I thought you weren't coming anymore!"

From Jeongin's shoulder you saw how Hyunjin gave you a smile and a wave, you tried to return the gesture as best you could considering that you were trapped in the arms of a boy who flatly stated that he didn't like hugs. It was getting long in your opinion, so you patted Jeongin on the back, letting him know that yes, you loved him very much, but you were still sticky with sweat from the walk in the sun and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable when he was so cool. When Jeongin let go of you, he opened his palm to introduce you to a person you hadn't seen before, "I hope you don't mind, that's Chan over there. He also goes to our academy, and he goes to university with us! Although he is a year ahead"

You smiled at Jeongin as you walked further into the kitchen to greet the new guest and in front of you stood one of the most attractive men you'd ever seen in your entire life. He wasn't very tall (you could tell even if he was sitting) but his broad shoulders gave him an intimidating presence, his hair looked messy in a swirl of brown curls, and although he was dressed from head to toe in black (you were sure his nails were painted that color too) on his face was a dimpled smile that took your breath away.

From one moment to the next you forgot how to articulate words and you felt like a fish opening and closing its mouth trying to find something to say, but your brain didn't seem to want to work.

You felt a small push on your right shoulder that took your body forward, towards the table, and towards Chan.

"How rude you are" Jeongin rolled his eyes, and although deep down you knew he was doing it to tease you, your cheeks turned red. You felt your tongue heavy in your mouth as the seconds passed and you were unable to utter a single word.

"Leave her alone, Innie. It's pretty hot outside, isn't it?" Chan's deep voice brought you out of your trance and forced you to look him in the eyes. He had a sincere smile on his face and was watching you with raised eyebrows, letting you know that he was going to listen to you when you wanted to respond.

Your heart did a complete turn in your chest, you were surprised in the best of ways at how friendly he was, the vast majority of boys with his attractiveness made that their only personality trait but he was attentive and considerate of all the people around him, even with complete strangers who hadn't stopped looking or saying anything to him in three minutes.

"Yes...yes, it's horrible! And the air conditioning in my house is broken and you can't imagine how hot it is! I feel like I'm going to die one of these days" The words came tumbling out of your mouth, since you hadn't had the time to stop and think about what exactly you wanted to say, and your nerves were playing the worst trick of your entire life.

Chan laughed again (even his laugh was pretty) and he nodded his head, not at all scared or surprised with the lexical vomit you just made.

"It must be like torture, really. You must be tired from the walk under the sun, why don't you sit down for a bit? The boys and I were planning to watch a movie" The brunette softly kicked one of the stools that were stored under the table in your direction.

You nodded shyly and took the seat he offered you, right in front of him. You left your phone on the cold marble of the table and looked around the kitchen for your best friend, you'd been surprised by the fact that he hadn't gotten into the conversation for five minutes and to be honest you desperately needed to focus on something other than Chan's penetrating gaze you felt on your face.

"Innie?" You called out to him with a small shout, loud enough for him to hear you even if he'd gone into the garden.

After a few seconds, your friend's blonde head peeked out of the left door that led to the living room, and a mischievous smile appeared on his face. "I'm sorry! Since you two were talking, we decided to go prepare things for the movie."

Jeongin paused and looked at you evilly, a look that you knew very well and that didn't give you a good feeling at all "Chan, why don't you prepare something to eat? I bought some snacks today, come when you have everything ready~" And before you could protest, he disappeared from your sight again while laughing and yelling something at Hyunjin.

You immediately tensed up and cursed Jeongin in your mind, how dare he leave you alone with your newfound crush. If he was getting revenge for the time you tried to play matchmaker and failed then he was being very childish, that'd been years ago!

While the insulting thoughts against your best friend and all his ancestors accumulated in your brain, from the corner of your eye you watched as Chan got up from his seat and went to the counter where the mentioned snacks and bowls of colors were located, apparently the prankster you called your best friend had already prepared the trap before you even arrived.

You didn't want to look weirder than you already felt so with your limbs shaking and making even the slightest of movements difficult; you also got up from your seat and slowly approached where Chan was, you stood next to him (close enough for him to know that you were willing to help but far enough not to invade his personal space).

He looked at you briefly and smiled sideways, and didn't say anything as he gently pushed a bowl towards you. The task wasn't very complicated per se, but it did become extremely difficult when the only thing you could focus on were the large, veiny hands of the boy next to you, you hadn't realized how attractive it was to see a man opening packets of potato chips and arranging them in a small container until now.

"Jeongin said we go to the same university, do you study the same as him?" You were startled by the sudden interruption of silence, you turned to look at Chan after finishing preparing the bowl with the nachos.

"Yes, I mean, no. We share some classes because some subjects are correlative in each one's career but I could never do the same as Innie" You smiled shyly and shook your head.

"I study psychology," You finally said and looked at your companion, who had his eyes open and bright like a puppy's (how could it be possible for a person to be incredibly attractive and adorable at the same time? It would have to be illegal), and you wondered what it was that'd amazed him so much, there were millions of other people studying the same thing as you.

Without meaning to, you raised an eyebrow; studying his reaction. He laughed again (it was something he loved to do, apparently) and turned his entire body towards you, resting his left hip against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's incredible, the human mind is fascinating. I understand why you study that, for my part, I wouldn't read everything you have to read even if someone paid me."

You laughed loudly, infecting Chan as well. He was doing so with his whole body, his shoulders were shaking to the rhythm of his giggles and you could notice that, from time to time, a small squeak would appear in the sound of his laughter.

When the laughter died down, you looked at him again as you put the last bag of snacks in the cupboard in front of you.

"Yes, I mean, it's a lot to read but it's like you say. I'm interested in knowing the reason for behavior, and I would like to help people in the future. Mental health is something important" This last part came out in a whisper, you weren't used to revealing the reason for your career choice, most people told you that you should have chosen something that would make you rich in twenty years.

"That's incredible, I admire you a lot" Chan said in a soft voice, and you hadn't realized how close he'd gotten until you noticed the small touch of his fingers on your arm, the color quickly rose to your cheeks again and panic took over you, making you choke up when you spoke.

"Y-yes, thank you... not many think that way" And you moved your body away from his space; maybe a little abruptly but you were sure that if you continued in that position you were going to do or say something ridiculous, you couldn't trust your ability to reason at the moment.

Chan cleared his throat at your reaction and took two bowls in his hands, starting to walk towards the living room. You hadn't realized how loudly the other two boys were talking, were you so immersed in the situation to forget the outside world? Apparently yes.

"Are you done yet? The boys must be waiting" He stopped right in front of the door, waiting for you to take what you'd prepared.

You nodded softly, and after grabbing your preparations, you followed him into the living room.

You don't really remember what happened after that, you assume you watched the movies that the boys had already chosen before you arrived. You also don't remember if you had even paid attention, probably not, because you were very focused on keeping your breathing as normal as you could since unfortunately Hyunjin and Jeongin decided to each sit in an individual chair and by coincidence the only place left to sit was in the two-seat chair that your best friend's grandmother had given to his mother at her wedding, and conveniently Chan sat there too. So as the movie played on the screen, your heart raced with every accidental brush of your arms or legs against Chan's.

The only thing you remember clearly from that moment is that you couldn't help but look at his profile, trying to memorize every detail and every peculiarity of his expressions.

The rest of the summer felt like a haze, every time you made plans with Jeongin you knew Chan was going to be there. And that did nothing to dispel the feelings that were beginning to become more present with every minute you spent in his presence.

You liked him a little too much.

His kind nature and the way he treated everyone made you dizzy every time, but you were too shy to act on your feelings and unfortunately you weren't the only one who thought Chan was a good catch. Every now and then different girls approached him to ask him out, and although he always rejected them; you couldn't help but feel a little insecure about the situation. And there was also the small problem that he confessed to you one night in Hyunjin's garden: his last relationship had been somewhat toxic, and although it ended years ago, he was deeply hurt and didn't feel ready yet to fall for someone again.

That confession left a sour taste in your mouth, so you decided not to actively act on your feelings, you really didn't want to make Chan uncomfortable or force him into something he didn't want to do, let alone ruin the friendship you were building. But something as strong as love cannot be contained, and one sleepless night you found yourself scribbling in your notebook the things you wanted to say to him, the things you liked about him, and how he made you feel when you looked at him.

You weren't thinking when you left the first envelope on his desk, it was a completely impulsive decision that you regretted the moment you left his classroom. But when you turned around to go back and throw the letter into the trash, he already found it.

At first he didn't read them, you knew because you'd overheard when he mentioned it to Hyunjin during an outing the three of you made, Chan believed that one of his friends was playing a prank on him.

And that was the last straw that broke the camel's back, although you told yourself that you weren't going to write anymore letters for the sake of your friendship and your own feelings you had to let him know (even if anonymously) that he was someone worthy of love and that he wasn't what the people in his past made him believe he was.

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Once you arrived at the classroom (miraculously before the professor, you didn't think you could endure another lecture and there were still three more hours before leaving the university) you sat down in your respective seat by the window. The day was really beautiful, and from your place you could see the large patio where the entire student body went to relax between classes, it was your favorite place in the entire building and at this moment you wanted nothing more than to be leaning against a tree feeling the warm sunlight on your face.

"I'm not saying you have to tell him that but don't you think it's been too long already?" Jeongin didn't seem to want to drop the topic for today, he'd gotten up from his seat taking advantage of the fact that there was still no sign of the teacher and sat at your table, almost knocking all the things that were on top of it to the floor. You rested your head on the bench and waved a hand in the air, brushing it off in an attempt to say 'leave me alone already'.

Your best friend snorted exasperatedly, "You really are a special case, you've been in love with him for a year, for God's sake."

At the boy's aggressive tone of voice, you took your head off the table and looked at him with a frown. He looked back at you like he always did: challenging and forcing you to speak for yourself.

"It's not as easy as you say, Jeongin" You spat angrily.

"For all I know, if he finds out, he could throw my stupid letters in the trash and confessing would not only make me look weird but it would also ruin the friendship we have" You lowered your face, feeling a little sad "And the last thing I would like to do is lose him"

Jeongin’s expression softened as he realized the depth of your anxiety, and he reached out to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I get it, I really do. You don't want to jeopardize what you have but you deserve happiness too, you know? Maybe it's time to take a risk."

“I don’t even think I have a chance” You sighed, feeling defeated.

Jeongin moved closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially, "You may have more possibilities than you think, but sometimes you have to give destiny a little push."

You raised an eyebrow at his choice of words and just as you were about to question him further, the professor made an appearance in the classroom ordering everyone to take their respective seats and apologizing for the delay. Your best friend flashed you a bright smile with his trademark dimples and snuck over to his table, effectively ending the conversation and leaving you wondering what he meant for the rest of the day.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

If Jeongin's plan was for you to not sleep for a week, then he'd achieved it. His words had been spinning through your head like a whirlpool that seemed to have no end. You knew that he'd been friends with the brunette for a longer time than you, but were they close enough that the youngest knew the secrets inside Chan's heart?

Or was he giving you the advice that all friends gave to their other friends desperate to believe in the illusion that the person they like reciprocates their feelings? No, Jeongin wouldn't do that, he was too honest for his own good and besides you'd known each other longer (your mothers said you were born to be friends). So did that mean there really was a chance?

No, of course not, that was ridiculous.

You shook your head in an attempt to get rid of those thoughts as you rang the doorbell at Hyunjin's house. Your group had agreed to meet to study and you needed to have a clear mind, the exams were around the corner and you couldn't afford to keep your brain preoccupied thinking about something that would never happen.

The minutes passed slowly as you waited for the homeowner, and while you were thinking about ringing the doorbell again fearing that the boys inside hadn't heard you, the door suddenly opened, and nothing could have prepared you to see the person who has been living rent free in your mind, you knew he would be there, but you didn't expect to face him so quickly.

"Hey, you arrived just in time, Hyunjin's mom just brought us some drinks" Chan was his usual self, with his beautiful smile plastered on his face and his relaxed attitude.

You blinked once, twice, three times before you managed a small forced smile and responded, "Oh, great, thanks," and you stood there in silence, unable to look him in the eyes.

Chan tilted his head in silent question at your attitude, "Is everything okay?"

His concern for your well-being was evident in his voice and he struck a chord in your heart. You looked at him briefly, meeting his gaze for a fleeting moment and nodded, still struggling to find your voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You finally responded, trying to sound casual despite the jumble of emotions inside you.

Chan's friendly demeanor never wavered as he led you into the house, you followed him with a notable distance between your bodies and so when you arrived at the living room where the boys were already seated with open textbooks and a monstrous amount of things to eat you almost ran to sit next to Jeongin, an attitude that didn't go unnoticed by the blonde, who looked at you with his eyebrows raised in a telepathic question.

Meanwhile, Chan didn't take his eyes off you as he sat next to Hyunjin on the couch in front of where you and your best friend were.

The afternoon went by slowly, too slowly for your liking, you'd gone with all the desire to study and get your mind out of the anxiety that was consuming you, but that attempt had been futile.

Although your gaze remained glued to your notes and your blue highlighter (which hadn't highlighted anything in the last hour, you'd read the same paragraph five times without getting a clue of what it was trying to say) you felt how two eyes were burning holes in your figure. The room was suffocatingly silent, and you were sure that your irregular breathing was evident to the entire group; your nerves were so on edge that when your best friend's voice filled the void you almost jumped in your place.

"I'm tired, how about we take a break?"Jeongin raised his arms towards the ceiling, stretching his back and then collapsing gracelessly against the soft cushions of the sofa.

Hyunjin nodded while massaging his neck, stiff after so many hours of looking down at his notes and reading "I thought no one was going to say it, I was going crazy."

Chan didn't say anything, he just closed his notebooks and imitated Jeongin in his relaxed pose against the couch. You felt out of place when the boys started chatting about meaningless things to lighten the atmosphere.

You only nodded when you felt your input was necessary, or laughed when you thought that was the reaction you should have but you didn't speak, because in fact, you weren't sure you were going to say anything coherent or at least make your voice louder than a whisper, so you decided that the best course of action was to stay quiet.

If the boys noticed it, they didn't say anything, and you couldn't be more grateful for it.

"You know" Chan interrupted the laughter of the other two boys after a not-so-funny story told by Hyunjin.

Everyone focused their attention on him, the tone of voice he'd used was more serious than his usual; so serious that it forced you to look up for the first time since the recess began and you found Chan's brown eyes looking directly at you, doing it so intensely that you thought he was staring right into your soul.

You held your breath, but you weren't prepared for what he said next.

"My secret admirer hasn't written to me in a few days" He was still looking at you, but there was something strange hidden in his irises, something you couldn't decipher.

Silence once again took over Hyunjin's living room, and the tension could be cut with a knife, it almost seemed like time had stopped when the brunette pronounced the last syllable. Your mouth felt dry, and your palms began to sweat. The weight of his words floated in the air and a thousand thoughts passed through your mind, each one more disconcerting than the last.

Hyunjin snorted, and looked maliciously at Chan "Maybe they are tired of you."

His mocking comment broke the heavy silence like thunder. Jeongin joined in with a playful smile, taking the opportunity to tease Chan mercilessly. “Maybe your secret admirer found someone else,” he joked, his tone light and teasing, “Or maybe they are just playing hard to get.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, wanting to burst while the boys laughed at Chan's expense while he, in response, rolled his eyes and smiled sarcastically at the jokes that his friends kept saying, he also looked at you from time to time making your discomfort even more evident.

You desperately searched for words to contribute to the conversation, your voice choked by the rising anxiety. But as Jeongin and Hyunjin's playful teasing continued, you remained silent, feeling like a bystander in a conversation that was becoming more cryptic by the second. Chan's gaze never left you, and despite the teasing, there was something in his eyes that betrayed a deeper understanding. His comment felt like a puzzle piece falling into place, yet you couldn't put your finger on what he truly knew.

As the laughter subsided, the room descended into an awkward silence once more, and then Chan finally spoke up, his tone more subdued than before. "Well, whoever it is," he began, his eyes still locked on yours, "I hope they know they've brightened my days with their letters."

The comment hung in the air, carrying a weight that seemed to pull everyone into its gravity. Jeongin and Hyunjin exchanged glances, their playful demeanor suddenly giving way to something more conspiracy.

You, on the other hand, felt an overwhelming mix of emotions. The anxiety that'd been building throughout the day reached a crescendo. You wanted to say something, to respond in some way, but the words caught in your throat.

Hyunjin broke the silence once more, this time with a touch of sincerity in his voice. "Whoever they are," he said, "they must really care about you, man." Jeongin nodded in agreement, and the room seemed to shift, it was a subtle transformation, but one that you couldn't help but notice.

Chan smiled, a genuine one that reached his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted, "They do mean a lot to me."

You desperately needed a moment to collect your thoughts and emotions after that serious conversation, so you mumbled something about getting a drink from the kitchen, excusing yourself with a weak smile and slowly, you retreated from the living room, the voices of the boys fading as you put some distance between you and the group.

In the dimly lit kitchen, you leaned against the countertop, your heart still racing from the tension in the room. The realization that Chan cherished those anonymous letters hit you like a ton of bricks. You'd never imagined how much they meant to him.

Just as you were lost in thought, the sound of footsteps behind you made you jump. You turned to find Chan standing there, a serious yet gentle expression on his face. His presence seemed to fill the room with warmth, and your anxiety ratcheted up another notch.

"Hey," he said softly, "You okay?"

You nodded, unable to form words an he took a step closer, his gaze never left yours.

Chan's brown eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had frozen around you. You couldn't contain the thoughts racing through your mind any longer. With a trembling voice, you finally asked the question that'd been gnawing at you.

"Do you know who's been sending those letters?"

Chan's expression remained calm, but you could see a glimmer of something in his eyes, a hint of knowing. He didn't answer immediately, instead, he stepped closer, narrowing the distance between you.

His voice was soft as he replied, "I have a feeling I might have a clue."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you searched his face for more hints. What did he mean by 'a clue'? It was clear he was being deliberately vague, and it only added to your curiosity.

"But," he continued, "I'd like to hear it from you. Tell me, do you know who it is?"

You hesitated, the weight of the truth pressing down on you. The walls between you and Chan seemed to dissolve, and the vulnerability in his eyes was mirrored in your own. With a shaky breath, you summoned the courage to speak, your voice quivering with fear and anticipation.

"It's me."

The admission hung in the air, heavy and uncertain. You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes locked on the floor as you waited for his reaction. The seconds felt like hours as you replayed all the letters, and the emotions you'd poured into them.

Chan's silence stretched, and the tension in the room became palpable. Your heart raced, and you feared the worst — rejection, awkwardness, or even laughter.

Then, he reached out, gently lifting your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes. The warmth and kindness in his gaze melted away your fears.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice soft and sincere. "I've cherished every single one."

As tears welled up in your eyes, Chan reached out to gently wipe them away with his thumb. He pulled you into a comforting embrace, holding you close as your emotions overwhelmed you. You couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and they flowed freely as you nestled into his embrace. He whispered soothing words, his voice a balm to your soul, reassuring you that everything would be okay.

After a moment of shared comfort, you pulled away slightly, looking up at him with curiosity. "But how did you know it was me?" you finally asked, your voice still trembling.

Chan smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, a knowing twinkle in his eye, and replied, "I had my suspicions, especially after some of the things you wrote. But what really gave it away was your handwriting."

You blinked in surprise.

Handwriting? You hadn't considered that, no, haven't even thought about it when you started this a year ago, and to be honest you felt a little dumb.

Chan continued, "I recognized your handwriting from a birthday card you gave me a while back. It was similar to the writing in the letters. And then, well, I saw you looking at me during our hangouts, and it all just started to make sense."

You blushed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. It seemed like you'd left more clues than you thought. But instead of feeling exposed, you felt a strange sense of comfort knowing that he'd noticed your feelings all along.

With a shy smile, you said, "I guess I'm not very good at hiding my feelings, am I?"

Chan chuckled softly. "No, but that's okay. I'm glad you told me."

As you gazed into Chan's eyes, you noticed something change in his expression. The initial surprise and curiosity gave way to a more tender, understanding look. He cupped your face gently, his touch warm and reassuring.

"You know," he began softly, "I've always appreciated those letters. They made me feel special, like someone out there truly understood me. And I never wanted to pressure you into revealing yourself," Chan continued. "I wanted you to do it when you were ready."

"I was just afraid," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid of what you might think, of how it might change things between us."

Chan's thumb traced small circles on your cheek as he reassured you, "Don't be. This doesn't change how I feel about what we have. If anything, it makes it even more special."

A tear escaped from the corner of your eye, but this time, it wasn't a tear of anxiety or fear. It was a tear of relief, of happiness. You leaned into Chan's touch, and he leaned closer, his eyes locked on yours, and before you knew it, his lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss. The world seemed to melt away as your lips met his, you felt the warmth of his body against yours, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine. His hands cradled your face, holding you gently but firmly, as if he never wanted to let you go.

The taste of his lips was sweet and comforting, like a warm embrace on a cold winter's day, you could feel the steady beat of Chan's heart, matching the rhythm of your own. The world around you disappeared, and there was only the two of you.

And just as you were lost in that sweet moment, the kitchen door burst open, and in walked your friends, their playful banter filling the room while wearing grins so wide they threatened to split their faces. Jeongin couldn't help but tease you, waggling his eyebrows playfully. "Well, well, looks like someone finally got the courage to make a move!"

Hyunjin joined in with a mock-sympathetic tone. "And here we thought we'd have to wait another century for this to happen!"

You blushed furiously, pulling away from Chan who chuckled in amusement, still holding you close. "You guys have impeccable timing," he remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Jeongin winked at you, "Hey! We're just glad we won't have to hear you two mooning over each other anymore."

[bookuce]

Change My Mind

SUMMARY: Josh and Alina are great friends most days. Other days, they want to tear each other apart. Some days, they’re in love with each other, but neither of them will admit it. 

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OC. The book uses actual names of wrestlers. Josh is Jey, Jon is Jimmy, Trinity is Naomi, and Alina is Alina. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events (matches, storylines) could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE. THAAAAAANKS. *

PAIRING: Jey Uso x Black OC

TROPE: Friends to Lovers

WARNINGS: Language

WORD COUNT: 5.4K

PART NINE

PART TEN

Alina hadn't gone on a double date in years. Some of her favorite dates just so happened to be doubles. After Theo, it didn't happen much anymore. She had started seeing her friends less in gatherings and seeing them more alone. What Theo did ruined the healthy dynamic of the friend group and made Alina feel like she was forcing her friends to choose between him and her. She never wanted to be that friend but had to. She refused to reopen wounds that hadn't fully healed for a two-to-three-hour outing.

Yesterday's events didn't help either. Somehow, years of growth and healing went out the door once Theo chose to stir up drama. Now, her best friend won't talk to her, and their friend group's dynamic has shifted again because of him. She glances over at Josh, Trinity, and Jon, watching as they talk and laugh with each other. Alina's spent all of two years with these people. They've become her family away from home, her family period. What would happen to them if she and Josh broke up?

Alina didn't want to think about that, but because of Theo, she had no choice but to do so. She'd probably have to switch shows and relearn how to be alone again. She wasn't looking forward to that. She and Josh have been joined at the hip for a year now and even more now than ever. Losing him would hurt her more than anything--especially now that they were together. They were in too deep with each other now. 

A bump to her arm would pull her attention from the outside. She and Josh would lock eyes with each other. Dark brown eyes searched hazel ones for a moment before Josh decided to speak up. "You good?" He asks lowly. He knew she wasn't, but would she tell him that right now? No, she'd save that for a conversation later. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," She starts. "just thinking." She finishes, turning her attention towards the window again. Josh continues watching her before reaching over to grab her hand. She looked at him once more, watching as he clasped his large hands around her own and pressed multiple kisses to it.

Josh knew Alina would be hard to reach after everything that happened this weekend. Between him, her ex, and her best friend ignoring her, she was emotionally and physically exhausted. He hoped this outing with Jon and Trinity would take her mind off it all for a few hours--or at least the rest of the night. She deserved peace, laughter, and happiness, and he planned to give her all that tonight--and any other day she needed it. 

"Lina, you excited to meet our parents tomorrow?" Jon asks, causing the couple to turn their attention to him. Josh's lip curled slightly at his brother, making Jon lean back slightly. "What? She ain't know?" He asks. 

"No, Jon, but thank you for telling her," Josh says, annoyed.

"Were you not gonna tell me?" Alina asks. As soon as the question left her mouth, she regretted it. It was hypocritical of her to be upset at that, considering Lina let Josh meet her ex-fiancé and didn't give him a warning. Josh turns his attention back to her just as she closes her eyes. "I'm sorry." She sighs, shaking her head.

Jon and Trinity glanced between the couple before looking at each other. He furrows his brows at her, and she shakes her head, a silent conversation happening between the two. They didn't know the full extent of yesterday's events and planned to ask later, but with how their brother and his girl were acting, they should hold off on being nosy for a while. Josh gently nudges Alina, forcing her to open her eyes. They'd stare at each other again. "Can we enjoy ourselves tonight, please?" He asks her. 

Immediately, Alina begins to nod. "Yeah," She starts. "Yeah, I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing. You ain't did nothing," Josh says, turning away. Josh looks between his brother and sister before sniffling and shifting his gaze to the floor. Alina would return her regard out the window, watching as buildings passed them by. She still didn't know where they were going and now had to worry about meeting Josh's parents tomorrow. She's been with the company for two years and never met Rikishi, nor did the twins ever talk about him. Josh spoke of his mother a lot--a Mama's Boy, this one is. 

"Alright," Trinity breathes, glancing down at her phone. The car ride quickly became awkward, and she needed a way out soon. "The GPS says we should be arriving in about five minutes." She announces. 

"Good," Jon mutters. "before they start fighting back there."

"Bruh, shut up." Snaps Josh.

"You shut up," Jon echoes, turning around again. Josh sits up in his seat. "You ain't gonna do nothing."

"Says who?" Josh asks.

"Shit, me and Theo will be twins to-day!" Jon smacks his lips at him, turning his head to laugh slightly. He points at his brother, wiggling his finger quickly from left to right. "So will that right and left eye." Alina and Trinity roll their eyes at the conversation happening. The twin brothers were bickering. It was nothing new--they've seen them fight plenty of times; they're usually okay right after. Jon enjoyed knowing he could effortlessly get under his brother's skin. He says it's his responsibility as the eldest brother to get on his nerves, but Josh would beg to differ. 

"Wait till we get out of this car." Josh threatens, prompting Jon to throw his hands up in feigning fear.

"Can y'all not do this right now?" Trinity says.

"Yeah," Alina agrees, looking between the twin brothers. "Last time, someone called the cops." She reminds them. Their fights were never serious, just a headlock and a shove here and there. If one threw a hit too hard, the other would initiate an actual scuffle. It was rare, but it happened. The brothers stared at each other in silence, one with a goofy grin, the other with a gaze cold enough to kill a man.

"Ay, listen to your wife," Josh advises, pointing his index finger at him.

"Listen to yours." Jon echoes back. Alina cut her eyes at Josh to see his reaction to the title his brother gave her. Josh glances in Alina's direction briefly before relaxing in his seat. She furrows her brows a little, glancing between Jon and Trinity before letting her eyes settle on her boyfriend. Alina half-expected Josh to scold his brother about the 'wife' comments like he commonly did, but it never came. 

The car slows to a halt, cueing everyone to look at the windows. They were in the parking lot of a karaoke lounge. Alina quickly turns her attention towards the Fatu trio in front of her. "Oh, are y'all deadass?" She asks, earning grins from everyone. 

"A family that karaoke together stays together," Jon says. "Now get your ass out of the car." He tells her. She looked at Josh, who was already getting out. Her reaction was why he didn't mention where they were going. He knew that if she found out they were going to a karaoke bar, she would try to find a way out of the date. He wasn't going to allow that to happen.

Josh made his way around to her side of the car, opening her door. She peers up at him with wide eyes. "Baby." She whispers at him. 

"Get out the car, Alina." He tells her, holding his hand out for her to take. She sits there for a moment, her mouth agape. Josh tucks his lips between his teeth, his eyes briefly going to the ground. He was trying not to laugh in her face about this, but her reaction was just what he expected it to be. She never wanted to do things that she felt were embarrassing, and now she had no choice. He was forcing her out of her comfort zone. "Come on now, honey, the driver got places to be." He says, urging her to get out. 

She glances back at the driver, who is glancing back and forth between the couple. He waited patiently for the chaotic group to leave his car, but Alina refused to let him end this ride. "How much to drive me back home?" She asks him. Josh smacks his lips at the question, reaching in to pull her from the car. "Josh!"

"Have a good night." He calls out to the driver before shutting the door behind Alina. 

The couple begins to walk towards the entrance of the lounge. Music and terrible singing are heard outside the venue, making Alina's stomach knot. "I'm not singing." She tells him, making him scoff.

"We'll see." He says, holding the door open for her.

"I mean it." She says, looking at him as she passes him on the way in.

Josh didn't believe that one bit. If he knew only one thing about Alina, he knew that with the right amount of alcohol in her system, she'd do anything. Whether sober Lina liked it or not, drunk Lina was going to be on that stage singing her heart out by the end of the night. 

She wasn't a terrible singer either. She was quite the opposite. Alina grew up in church as a choir girl, versed in the hymns of her ancestors. That wasn't her choice; her mother made her do it. She now avoids having to do it unless her grandmother asks her to. Josh knew she could sing. He's heard her sing softly to herself plenty of times before and thinks she has the prettiest voice. It was never where he was supposed to hear her. She sang behind closed doors, in the safeties of her shower, or the kitchen while she cooked, but never where he was supposed to hear her.

The group of four approaches the hostess, the older woman's eyes lighting up at them. "Well, this ain't a sight you see often in here." She says, coming around the podium to hug the twins and Trinity. Alina quickly caught on that this was a regular spot for the Fatus when they were here in Pensacola--which was strange because Josh couldn't sing to save his fucking life.

"Hey, Miss Lana." Jon greets her, wrapping her in a tight embrace before passing her off to his wife. "How you been?" He asks. 

"Good, your father was in here last night." She says. "Are y'all gonna out-perform him tonight?" She asks, moving on from Trinity and on to Josh. She notices the black eye, but she has but opts out of questioning it. The boy has gotten into fights for as long as she's known him, so picking up a career in wrestling made sense for him. What a strong warrior spirit behind that sweet face of his.

"C'mon, Miss Lana, you already know." He answers, pulling back from the hug. Miss Lana turns her attention to Alina, giving her a look over.

"Now, who's this pretty girl next to you, Joshua?" She asks. Alina holds her hand out, a bright smile on her face.

"I'm Alina, Josh's girlfriend." She says. Alina wasn't sure of the importance of this woman to the Fatus, but it did seem she was in tight with their entire family. She didn't want any negative word to get back to The Twins' parents that she was anything short of sweet. The older lady takes her hand and shakes it gently.

"Pleasure," She nods, turning her attention to Josh. His gaze shifts from Alina to the little lady again, his eyebrows raised. He had been watching how the two women interacted with each other, hoping that the family friend would approve of her. "Something tells me she's a keeper." She informs him, earning a mental sigh from the man. 

The little old lady turns away from the group, walking back around the podium. "I would be crazy not to agree." He says, reaching down to wrap his hand around Alina's. She squeezes gently, getting a tight squeeze back from him. She smiles softly to herself, her eyes finding the ground.

"Well, I'll let y'all go in. Have fun." Miss Lana says, shooing them away. Josh would begin to pull Alina into the lounge area. The space was dimly lit, adorned in purple, red, and blue lights to set the mood. Each table had candles at its center to make the setting intimate. Currently on the stage was someone singing a terrible rendition of Insatiable by Prince. The lounge was packed with people, a constant for this place. It was extremely popular with the people of Pensacola. 

They stop in front of a vacant table for four, the Twins moving around to pull out chairs for their women. Trinity and Alina sit in the two chairs toward the middle, leaving Jon and Josh to both be on the outside. "So take it slow, baby, and let's unwind!" Sings the person on the stage, causing the crowd to erupt into cheers. "Do you really want all my clothes off?" He asks, running his hand over his chest and gyrating his hips. 

Alina's eyes widen when the singer erupts into a shrill scream, earning more applause. "Oh no." She groans to herself. She turned to Josh, who was still standing next to his seat. He was watching the performer, his head moving to the song. She taps his leg, making him lean down to her height. "This was not what I expected when you said double date!" She shouts over the booming music and people. 

"Oh, you said you want a drink?" He replies. He was purposely ignoring her complaining at the moment. She furrows her brows at his response. 

"What? No, I said--." Josh turns and walks off toward the bar. Jon follows after him, leaving Trinity and Alina alone. Lina scoffs to herself. "You could've given me a heads up." She says, turning towards her friend. 

Josh and Jon approached the bar together, both leaning up against it at the same time. "Thanks for doing this with me, Uce," Josh says, clasping his hands together tight. Jon glances over at his brother, his eyes immediately going up to the bruise on his eye. He shakes his head gently.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" He asks, bypassing the appreciation his brother was trying to show him. "Did he hit you with a brick or something?" He asks. Josh sucked in a breath, his jaw clenching and unclenching while he tried to choose his words carefully.

"He had on some rings--or something; I wasn't paying attention." He answers. "All I remember is that he came over talking about some; he asked Alina to leave me and be with him. She told him no, and he followed it up with, 'Well, she told me she loved me, and I love her too'." The bartender would come over to them, interrupting their conversation. "Let me get a beer and a tequila sunrise." He answers for him and Alina; Jon orders for him and Trin, sending the bartender on his way. 

Josh pulls out his wallet, getting ready to pay, but Jon taps his shoulder. "I got it, Uce, y'all been through it this weekend." He says, prompting Josh to put his wallet back in his pocket. Jon slides his card across the countertop to the bartender. "What did you say to make him hit you that hard?" He asks after several moments of silence. "Because you had to have said something crazy." Jon assumes.

Josh gives a smug grin, glancing down at his hands. "Why do you assume I said something crazy?" He asks. Jon and Josh look up at each other at the same time. A smile grows on Jon's face. 

"Because I know you, stupid." He notes. "What did you say?" 

Josh chuckles softly. "I asked him if he thought Alina would play house with him and then told him that if she wanted to be a mother, all she had to do was ask me." He confesses. Jon stares at him for a few moments longer before bursting into laughter.

"Yeah, you deserved that shit, Uce." He says, leaning into his brother. "That's some crazy shit to say to a person's ex." He tells him. Josh would shrug slightly, his eyes averting to the drinks placed on the countertop for them. Josh reaches forward for his beer, taking a quick swig of it. "Did he draw blood?" Jon asks suddenly, his eyes on his brother again. Josh's eyes remain fixated on the beer bottle in his hand. He twisted it from left to right as he studied the label. 

He knew where this was going. Always the Devil on his shoulder, that Jon was. "Yeah." He answers. 

"So, we're getting your lick back, right?" He presses, prompting Josh to look at him. They would watch each other silently for a few before Jon pressed on. "It's only fair. Blood for blood."

"You trying to get us arrested."

"Not if provoked." He says quickly.

Josh smacks his lips at him, looking at his brother. "Man, what?" He asks. 

"Let him pop up again. He's in the friend group, ain't he?" He asks. "Alina's gonna get an invite somewhere--."

"Fuck no," He starts. "you going to have me fuck up her friendships more than I already have." He tells Jon. Despite Alina blaming everything that happened yesterday on her, Josh took full responsibility for the events of the evening. He was confident that was causing Tasha to not talk to her, and he planned on fixing it eventually. He just needed to figure out how to approach it without making everything worse, and fighting was not a solution. With one last glance at his big brother, Josh grabs Alina's drink from the counter and walks towards the table. 

Jon appears next to Josh with his drinks in hand. "All you gotta do is let me know when something is happening, I'll plan a trip to Atlanta for me and Trin, and we'll get his ass outside somewhere." He proposes. Josh comes to a stop.

"Bruh, no." He objects. "I'm not doing that to Alina." He stresses with a shake of his head. Josh resumes his walk to the table, leaving Jon blown away by his refusal to fight. Any other time, Josh would have said 'hell yeah' to beating up someone, but he was not interested in hurting Alina more than she already is. The fight that happened last night shouldn't have even happened, and he regretted even entertaining Theo's ass. Was this growth? Maybe, maybe not.

In Jon's eyes, Theo deserved an ass-whooping. What do you mean you approached his brother and told him you tried to sabotage his relationship? What do you mean you initiated a fight, your boys saved you from getting fucked up, and you drew blood? That man should be on his way to a hospital! Jon watches as Josh passes Alina off her drink. 

Eh, he just needed a little more persuading. 

"Thank you, baby," Alina says as she takes the Tequila Sunrise. Josh sits down next to her, pulling his chair to her side. His knees pressed into the side of her leg, his body leaning in towards her. 

"Yo, we want to thank everyone for coming out for R&B night tonight," The DJ starts. "It's gonna be a night of love and nothing but straight vibes, you feel me?" The crowd cheered around them. "We got any lovers in the crowd tonight?" Alina lifts her hand to her mouth, letting out her own cheer. 

She then leans towards Josh, causing his eyes to light up at the attention. "That's all you're getting out of me tonight." She tells him, making him laugh. She leans away once more, her eyes going to the stage. He taps her leg, calling her attention back to him. She leans in again, giving a quick peck to his lips.

"The next person on the list will serenade you with the sounds of Jon B. Ladies and Gentlemen, give it up for Max." The DJ says, calling out for the next person in the queue. What was interesting about this karaoke lounge to Alina was how receptive everyone was to being there. The cheers of drunken patrons helped make those on stage feel more comfortable embarrassing themselves. 

They Don't Know started to play throughout the lounge as the next performer got on stage. "How y'all doing tonight?" He calls out. Jovialities break out around the room, including Josh, who only shouts to make Alina laugh, which he does successfully. "Sing along if you know the word. Clap on the beat if you don't," Max instructs them. "Heard about my past, the things I used to do." He sings off-key. Alina grimaces slightly at the delivery, bringing her glass to her lips. Maybe this will all start sounding right by the night's end if she gets more drinks in her system. 

Josh leans into Alina again, his mouth to her ear. "How are you feeling?" He asks, sending shivers down her spine. He probably shouldn't ask as often, but he needed to know. 

She glances down at her drink before turning her head to face him. "Considering I still don't have my phone?" She asks.

"You're not getting your phone back tonight." He says quickly, shaking his head. "I told you I need you here with me." He reminds her. 

She watches him for a moment, her eyes skimming over his face. "She's my best friend, Josh." She says finally. 

"I understand that," He starts. "but she could care less that you are losing sleep over her. You've been trying to contact her, and she's not answering. I don't like that." Tasha and Alina were two grown adults who could settle their differences with a simple conversation, but one refused. He could see why they were best friends now; Alina did that to them often when she was upset with him. Alina looks away from him, her eyes focused on the performer on the stage now. "Ay," He says, calling her attention back to him. "You shouldn't have had to find out from someone else that she was mad at you." He says, shaking his head gently at her. 

He was right. Alina shouldn't have had to find out that way, but she understood why she did. She would be upset too if that was her wedding and her maid of honor and boyfriend were fighting the best man during a day that was supposed to be about her. "She wants to act like this, let her. Give her her space and let her come to you. That's what I do." He says, making her hang her head and laugh. 

"That's what you do?" She asks, looking up at him. He smiles big at her.

"Yeah, that's what I do." He repeats, nodding his head. "You still here, aren't you?" He asks. She grins at his question before nodding slowly. Josh leans in, pressing a few kisses to her lips. "It's going to work itself out one way or another." He promises. 

"I know," She starts. "I'm just worried." 

"And that's fine," He says. "If something changes, I'll be here; so will Trin and Jon, but until then, be here with us. We planned this whole outing just for you." 

Alina tilts her head to the side. "And you chose a karaoke bar?" She asks. 

"Ay, it's fun. You're just hating right now cause you're in a bad mood, and that's fine." He says. "I forgive you, though." Josh looks away from Alina and to the stage. The tone-deaf singer that was up there was finally closing out his song.

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

As the night progressed and more drinks got into her system, Alina began to liven up. She found herself singing along with the performers that were up on the stage. She sways from left to right in her seat, her right foot tapping as she does so. Yesterday's events quickly became an afterthought for sober Lina to worry about tomorrow. Lina was in a great mood right now.

Josh had walked off a few moments ago; she assumed to get more drinks, but it's been a while. She turns in her seat towards the front of the building, eyes scanning the bar for a mullet of curls. When she didn't spot them, she turned to Jon and Trin, who were cuddled up with each other. Trin had moved from her seat into her man's lap, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck. She taps Jon's arm, getting both of their attention.

"Where did Josh go?" She asks. As soon as the question left her mouth, Trin started looking around the venue. Jon did a slow turn towards the bar. When he didn't see him there, he looked at Alina.

"He ain't gone far." He assures him. Josh wasn't one to wander after a few drinks. Then again, they did get lost in Times Square that one time. He quickly expelled the thought of his twin running off somewhere drunkenly from his mind. "I'll call him." He says, removing his phone from his pocket. 

Alina snatches Josh's phone off the table and shows it to his brother. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we got a rare treat for y'all tonight in The Marina Lounge," The DJ starts. "Get ready to be serenaded with the sweet sounds of Pensacola's own, Ucey Juicey!" If Alina turned her head any faster, she would've broken her neck. I know that ain't who I think it is, she thought, standing to her feet to see over the crowds of standing people.

"Yeeeeeeet," Josh says into the mic, confirming Alina's suspicions quickly. Her boyfriend was on the stage, slapping hands with the people in the front row. He wasn't about to sing, was he?

"Good God up above..." She says to herself. 

"Ay, I want to dedicate this song to the love of my life, the future Mrs. Joshua Fatu, Miss Lina McLemore." He says, making her hang her head at the dedication. "That's my best friend, y'all, I love her." Dear God, he was about to sing. Music began playing, prompting Alina to look at the stage in second-hand embarrassment, half of her face covered as she watched her man prepare to make an ass of himself.

The crowd clapped to the beat, hyping him up more than before. He takes a sip of the Tequila Sunrise he had in his hand, which could be the cause of this performance. At what point in the night he switched to fruity drinks was a mystery to her. "I can't imagine life without you by my side..." He sings. He slurred his words together as he sang the first few lines. Alina stifles a laugh, closing her eyes to gather her composure. 

"Damn, not you got this man singing songs for you," Jon says, earning a glare from her. "Tyrese at that? That boy sprung." Trinity slaps his chest.

"I don't see you singing for me." She says.

"I'ma sing for you later. My falsetto nice." He says, sticking his tongue out. Both girls would groan at his response. Alina turns her attention back to the stage.

"Things tend to slip my mind like how you like to wine and dine, babe..." He sings, lifting the hand that held his plastic cup in the air. "Yeet." He adds. Alina giggles lightly at him, turning to grab his phone. She needed to record this. No one at work would believe her unless Lina showed them. She takes hers from beneath Josh's, switching the phone into camera mode. "Ay! Have I told you I loved you? Alina..." He sings. "Have I told you that you mean the world to me..."

Josh started to dance, letting the instrumental play for a few moments. "The song, Uce! Sing the damn song!" Jon shouts, reminding his brother to sing. 

The younger twin stops dancing, leaning over slightly to laugh at himself. "My bad, y'all--." He apologizes, looking up at the teleprompter. "Where the fuck was I?" He asks himself. Someone would shout something at him, making him laugh again. "Ay, you ain't lied!" He responds, pointing at them.

Alina turns to Jon. "I hope you know you're helping me get him in the house." She tells him. Jon cringes slightly, pulling his bottom lip down at her words. His hand goes up to the back of his neck, rubbing at the back.

"Jon," Trinity says, looking back at him.

"I'm not going to let her carry his big ass in alone, girl, damn." He says, bringing his hand to his chest. "I was just playing." He says to Trin. She leans in to press two kisses to his lips.

"And verbally, I tend to forget how much I L-O-V-E-U really means..." Josh yells into the microphone, bringing Alina, Trin, and Jon's attention back to his drunken singing. "Lately, have I told you I loved you? Alina..." Adding her name to the lyrics made her laugh. Her feelings of embarrassment began to subside the longer she watched him. 

Josh made it his life's mission to remind Alina often how much he loved her. If he didn't use words, he would express it with his actions, eyes, and hands, in silence, alone, or on stage in a crowded room full of drunken people. If he could do it on national television, he would. That man was in love, and there was no denying it. 

The song ends, and the crowd erupts into cheers again. Alina would join them, a big smile on her face. "Thank you, thank you," Josh says, passing the microphone off to the DJ. Josh came walking through the crowd, dapping up people greeting him on his way back to his table. "How'd I do?" He asks his group once he makes it over. Josh wraps an arm around Alina's shoulders, draping his weight on her body and causing them to stagger barely. He leans in to press several kisses to her lips, the taste of orange juice and tequila still in his mouth.

"You're not going to Hollywood, that's for sure." She teases between kisses.

"That's fine," He starts. He turns his head to finish the last of his drink. "I'm tryna take you home, though," He says, leaning in for one more kiss. "Give you an encore performance." Thick black eyebrows lift to help with the delivery of his words. 

"You're going to sleep when we get home." She tells him.

"Who said that?" He questions.

"Me." She replies.

He points at the stage, looking over his shoulder slightly at it. "Girl, I just sang my ass off on that stage for you." He says, looking back at her. "Panties gotta drop."

"Boy--." She starts, pulling back to look at him. She laughs softly at his words. "We are going home, and your drunk ass is going to sleep! That's final." He scoffs at her, tilting his head up in disbelief. His brows furrowed, and his top lip curled slightly. The man was shocked, hurt, sad, and possibly depressed at her rejection. In reality, he was being dramatic.

"See if I sing for your ass again." He tells her.

"I hope not." She says, looking back at Jon and Trin. "Y'all ready to go?" She breathes. 

Trin and Jon stand to their feet, both nodding simultaneously. "Yeah, we can call it a night." The eldest twin answers. "Let's get Keith Sweat over here home." He says, with a sigh. Josh lifts his middle finger at his brother, but Alina pushes it back down. She takes that hand of his, unwraps his arm from her shoulders, and pulls him towards the entrance. 

"Did you have fun tonight?" Josh asks. Even though he was heavily intoxicated, he still wanted to make sure his girl had fun. That was the goal for the night: to make sure she had fun. 

She turns to face him, a broad smile on her face. "I did."

Josh nods to himself, proud he was able to get her mind off of everything. "Good." He answers. It would get temporarily quiet between the pair as they watched each other. "I'll send you my bill since you won't fuck me."

"Josh!" She groans.

"I'm just saying."

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A/N: we love a good double date! i wasn't planning on this chapter to be as long as it was, but here we are. 🤭

🏷️ list: @thesamoanqueen @whatdoeseverybodywant @headoftheetable @mzv11 @southerngirl41 @yana3sworld @wanderingreigns @wrestlingprincess80 @siriuslycee @vebner37 @astridxxxxxx @alichesmi @tshepisho @scarlettnoir01 @brokenglassslippers @reignsboy19 @sayyestoheav3nn @cyberdejos2 @empressdede @sisinever @truefant4sy @paigereeder @tbmotw @fearlesschimera @venusesworld @usoholic @sageispunk @bebesobrielo @jstarr86 @vibessonvibes @issahyland @fandomphasess @evilli0s

[awriterinthenight]

10 Things I Hate About You-Luke Castellan Au, Part 1

words: 1223

warnings: language, uhhhh I don't know about anything else, but I will add new ones for new chapters. This is mostly just the set up, more of the plot will be in the next chapter, and I kept the last name Stratford and made the sister's name Bianca cause it was easier than creating new names, plus I really liked sticking those names cause I love the movie

summary: 10 Thing I Hate About You au with Luke Castellan. Chris a new camper comes into the Hermes cabin and him and the Stolls are on a mission to get you to allow your sister Bianca to date, and who else besides Luke Castellan would be willing to do it.

The Stratford sisters were known for being off limits. They were also quite the anomaly, having two different dads, but the same mom. Usually one god had one kid with one mortal then bounced, leaving them on their own. But not the Stratford sisters. The older one Y/N was a child of Hades, while the younger one, Bianca, was a child of Apollo. Quite the opposites, but they were everything to each other.

But the other thing was that neither of them dated. Ever. Y/N just wasn't into people, and would rather eat rocks than date "the unwashed miscreants" (in her words) at camp. Bianca was longing to go out with a guy, but her sister didn't let her since she didn't trust anyone, and her sister followed her rule, not wanting to disrespect her.

Y/N knew this rule wasn't the best, but she'd rather have her sister be annoyed at her than have her dating some guy that treated her like shit. No one was able to date either of them no matter how hard they tried. Y/N was rather rude to people and annoyed, so no one wanted to be near her let alone date her, but everyone wanted Bianca.

***

When Chris arrived at camp he was claimed as a Hermes kid, and quickly introduced to the Stoll brothers who showed him around.

"Hi, I'm Chriss, Chiron said you would show me around," he greeted, a but nervous.

They nodded, ushering him out of the cabin, "Yup, that's our job. I'm Connor, this is my older brother Travis," he said, introducing him and his brother.

Chris nodded following the brothers on the tour around camp. "Alright to break it down, over here is the Big Three, Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, but there's only a couple of those kids, and I advise you to avoid the Hades kid," he said, pointing out each cabin. Now he started pointing at groups of people and some cabins, "Those are the Aphrodite kids, don't talk to them unless they talk to you first," Connor warns.

"Is that their rule or yours?" Chris asks out of curiosity.

Connor sighs saying, "Watch," now turning towards the Aphrodite kids, "How's it going."

Which just got him a lot of dirty looks and side eyes, and some rude replies.

"Bite me."

"Ugh, as if."

Travis put his hand on Chris' shoulder, "See what I tell you. Alright over here we have the Demeter kids. Super into plants and the environment, but mostly they-" Travis says, before getting cut off.

"Smoke a lot of weed," Chris finishes.

Connor nods, "Yes. Now here's Clarisse and the Ares kids, now unless you want your ass handed to you I advise that you stay away. Hephaestus kids, mostly dweebs, but they're rather nice people. The Dionysus kids are drink snobs, only drink artisanal shit, you know that type," he says, moving towards a table of people.

"Hey guys, how's it going," he says, but everyone just closes their books and turns away from him. Sighing, Connor turns away from them and back towards Chris.

"We pull one prank and suddenly they hate us," Travis says, his arms crossed. Chris had stopped paying attention when he saw Bianca walk by.

"I pine, I burn, I perish," he said, looking at her in amazement.

Connor shakes his head at Chris' antics, "Nope, sorry she's off limits. It's well known the Stratford sisters don't date, especially her," Connor explains, having to close Chris' jaw for him.

Chris stumbles over his words, before getting out, "Wha- what do you mean she doesn't date," he asks confused. How could someone like her not date?

"Her sister is a bit whacked, she won't let her date. Plus, she's not as deep as you think she is, listen," he says, moving Chris to hear Bianca's conversation.

"See there's a difference between love and love. I like my yellow converse, but I love my Tiffany bracelet," she explains to her friend.

"But, I love my Converse too," her friend says, a bit bubbly and confused.

Bianca shrugs, "Well that's cause you don't have a Tiffany bracelet," she says, a bit bluntly.

The Stolls steer Chris away from Bianca, "See you have no chance, sorry to break it to you, but put her away in your fantasies and say goodbye," Travis says, patting Chris' shoulder.

"No you're wrong. Well not about the fantasies part, but I can have a chance," Chris says, trying to hype him and the brothers up.

Connor sighs saying, "Alright you can try. She's looking for a Latin tutor if that helps."

"That's perfect," Chris exclaims.

The brothers give him a weird look, "You speak Latin?" they ask, confused since not many people know Latin.

"Well no, but I will," Chris says, excited that he might have a chance with Bianca.

***

1st Person Y/N

I was at sword fighting practice led by one of the Ares counselors.

"Alright I want everyone to partner up and try what I just demonstrated," he says, letting everyone off to practice.

I roll my eyes, "I wish he'd actually teach us something besides the same two defenses," I complain, getting into a fighting stance.

Unfortunately he overheard me, "What did you say?" he asked, annoyed by my presence in general.

I scoff, "I said, why can't we learn something useful? We learn the same two skills basically every week," I tell him.

Before he can tell me off, Luke walks into the lesson asking, "So what did I miss?"

"This asshole is not teaching us anything new," I complain, annoyed by both of them.

"Great, keep up the good work," he says, before running off.

"Hey, get back here," he yells at Luke, "Whatever, you can go to Chiron if you have a problem," he tells me.

I roll my eyes, picking up my bag and sword, "Sure, whatever," I say, leaving the arena.

***

3rd person

It was the end of the day and everyone was heading to dinner. Chris was watching Bianca walk to dinner with her siblings, and some Ares kid was doing the same, but in a more lustful way.

"That's out of reach even for you, Joey," one of his friends said.

Joey just shook his head, "No one's out of reach for me," Joey said, rather confidently.

"You wanna put money on that?" his friend asked, wanting to make a bet.

"Nah, this I'm gonna do for fun," he said, scheming a plan.

Joey walked up to Bianca and her friend, putting his arms around them. Connor was walking with Chris and wasn't paying attention when he walked right into Y/N.

"Remove head from sphincter, then walk," she said, aggravated at Connor's lack of surroundings. She walked off with her friend Eva from the Iris cabin.

Chris ran over to Connor asking, "Hey, you okay?"

Connor nodded, "Yeah, just a minor encounter with the shrew," he said bitterly, "That's your girlfriend's sister."

"Sister? But aren't they in different cabins?" Chris asked, confused.

Connor nodded, "Yeah, but they have the same mom, it's a whole thing. Don't worry about it," Connor said, walking off towards dinner. Unfortunately for him, he tripped and ended up rolling down a hill. But, he was okay and stood up, spreading his arms out in victory of surviving.

[nicole-alt-delete]

It was a hot summer day in Hawkins and the kids had dragged them into helping with some game once again. Eddie was more than thrilled to help, Robin had managed to escape with Nancy on a "supply run" and Steve was currently taking orders from Max, the only one of them who'd remembered to say please.

Eddie wasn't really sure what the end goal was but it seemed like they were one step away from LARPing- just changed the name so Max and El would still play. He was helping Will by carving this big fuck-all stick into a cane for him when the gravel behind him crunched under someone's feet, and a second later Steve was saying "Hey, I'm borrowing this- Thanks-" Not stopping for the answer before Eddie felt a tug at his back pocket.

He instantly whipped around, spluttering, "Absolutely not-"  and before Steve could even take a step he was fiercely gripping his black bandana taut between them like the world's saddest game of tug of war. Steve loosened his grip a little, making a point of not tugging on it or ripping it, just looking confused as he waited for an explanation.

Eddie blushed for a moment, realizing the position he'd put himself in, how protective he got over a little piece of fabric. He stammers for a second, "I- you can't just- I need that man,"

Steve quirks an eyebrow at him, clueless. "What do you mean you need it? It's been in your pocket every day and I've only seen you actually wear it once. C'mon just for today- the girls don't have any hair ties and I need to put my hair up, it's killing me,"

He sighs a little, fully aware there's nothing reasonable he could say to Steve here. He very much cannot tell him that he *needs* it just in case some hot guy walks by and happens to know what it means. That's ridiculous- especially when the guy he most wants to see it is the one tugging it away from him in the first place. Steve has no idea what it means and Eddie doesn't expect him to but it still drives him insane thinking that it could happen.

Alternatively, the idea of Steve putting his hair back with Eddie's bandana drives him a little insane too.

So he blushes, sighs, and lets go of it. Points at Steve firmly, "You better give that back Harrington, or I swear-"

Steve smiles and starts walking backwards with it, already rolling it up into a hairband as he cuts him off, "Yeah, I know Eds, you can hold it against me forever, promise,"

He runs off back to the other kids and Eddie shakes his head at him, flustered and annoyed, and forgetting himself until Will clears his throat behind him.

He doesn't say anything but he's smiling and making this little face as he looks away from Eddie, like he knows something.

"So uh. The stick?"

"Right- yes- stick- cane- it's a cane for a mighty wizard, let's go,"

--

He didn't think he'd notice it so much, but the empty feeling in his pocket is driving him crazy. He'd been wearing that stupid thing since he learned it was a thing people do- a stolen trip up to the city on a bus he snuck onto, a weekend as a runaway before he sucked it up and went back home.

Someone had called him queer and he turned expecting a fight only to see a group of freaks who stood out more than himself. They had smiled and asking him why he was all alone, and been worried. One wanted to make sure Eddie hadn't been kicked out. Another wrapped her scarf around him, and before he knew it he was in the back of a gay bar with people he'd never met and felt like he could tell anything to.

The idea of proudly wearing something that singled him out- but only to the right people- made his hart light up. It was like a new language, like thieves' cant, something secret and magic.

He'd spent hours asking about colors and being confused and rightfully embarrassed by more than a few of the answers. Some sounded better than others, some made his face flush. At the end of the day he felt better than he had in ages and he had the courage to go back home to Wayne.

Before he got back on a bus he stopped into a second hand shop and grabbed the first black bandana he could find. He debated the whole ride home which side to put it on. When he walked back up to the trailer door ready to apologize, it hung proudly out of his back left.

--

Eddie had let Steve wear it home and it was killing him, but they had stayed out late and he half forgot anyways, and Steve's hair did look pretty cute pushed back like that. Steve had promised to give it back anyways, and Eddie trusted him fully.

He just also really, really, really wanted it back as soon as possible.

So for once he got up before noon (barely- just after eleven,)  and made his way to Family Video and hopped Steve had left it in his car or something so that he could get it back then and there.

What he wasn't expecting was to walk in and see Steve bent over behind the counter with the damn thing hanging out of his right pocket, as if he had any goddamn idea what that meant.

Eddie nearly had a heart attack and was thankful the store was empty like it always was so he could sprint over, jump the counter and yank the thing out of his pocket immediately.

"What do you think you're doing wearing it like that?!"

Steve had barely registered the jingle from the door, let alone Eddie launching himself at him, and was thoroughly surprised to say the least, nearly knocking over a display as he reacted.

"Hey!  Jesus man- you can't be- what's the big deal??? That's exactly how you wear it all the time- I was just keeping it safe til I saw you again,"

He stared at Eddie properly confused, a little on guard still from how suddenly he had leapt over and how worked up he seemed.

Eddie took a deep breath and sighed, folding the bandana up in his hands and just holding it for a moment, debating what to tell Steve.

After a second Steve makes this little head movement like 'well? go on?' clearly waiting for an explanation and Eddie rolls his eyes and sighs.

"It's- Look, Stevie, you can't wear it like that, you're not- I mean it's. It's like- a symbol, okay?"

Steve leans on the counter and frowns, confused.

"A symbol?"

"Yes- yeah, like- like those little cross necklaces moms wear or Dustin's star wars shirts. They're symbols....for the same kind of people to pick up on,"

He struggles with the words, trying hard to insinuate just enough without giving it all away, still hesitantly afraid of Steve's reaction.

But Steve just looks thoughtful. Nodding a little, putting a finger to his lip as the gears turn.

"So- okay, what's it symbolize then?"

He'd been hoping Steve wouldn't make it that far.

"It's- uh. It's really not..."

Steve stares, "Man I'm not gonna judge you- just- why's it such a big deal that I can't wear it like that too?"

Eddie can't help but laugh, "If anyone who knows what it means saw YOU with it- you would- no, you'd set yourself on fire I'm sure of it,"

He shakes his head, holding the bandana tighter in his fists.

Steve only frowns though, "Eds, what's it mean? If you don't tell me I'll just get my own and wear it until someone else does,"

Eddie looks mildly terrified by the idea but laughs at it all the same. "No- No, god do not do that Harrington-"

"Then tell me,"

"I can't, it's really-"

"Eddie, I'm gonna steal it back,"

And he does, reaches for the bandana in his hands as Eddie pulls away, the two of them starting to bicker and wrestle for it, each equally stubborn until the point that Steve actually does manage to grab it.

The tension gets to him and Eddie can't help it anymore, he just blurts, "It means I'm gay, Steve!"

It makes Steve pause and Eddie uses the moment to grab it back and quickly shove it in his back pocket again, blushing furiously and hoping Steve doesn't take it too badly.

Steve's mouth opens a little to say something in response, but the door jingles and his head snaps to it, Eddie instantly hitting the floor because he's still behind the counter where he most certainly should not be.

A man comes in and asks where the new releases are and Steve happily helps him, leaving Eddie plenty of time to crawl out from behind the counter and sneak out. He almost gets away with it too, but the door opens again, jingles and Steve twists his head.

"Eddie, wait- We're not done- I'll talk to you about this later!"

Eddie doesn't look back at him as he runs out the door past Robin who had been bringing lunch back for her and Steve. She tries to greet him but he just blurts "Gotta go, Buckley," and darts past.

If he'd looked back he would have noticed how red Steve's face was. Part 2

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 7 . Truth (2)

a/n: double update this week (I'll upload another chapter tom) to lament over my fever getting higher lol (I'm actually procrastinating my school works)

tags: frustrated rosalyn, again abuse as the norm, cursing, detrimental thoughts and ways of living, unhealthy coping mechanisms and trauma responses

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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Rosalyn is someone who threw away her royal position to pursue her dreams of being a mage.

A decision that removed her from her family.

The mage thinks that she would be sad by this if it wasn’t for the fact that she immediately found a new family to be with.

It's amazing if you ask her. It was as if the gods saw that she needed someone to trust after almost being killed and gave it to her in the form of a socially awkward swordsman.

And then almost right after she put her trust in Choi Han, she gained a little brother named Lock.

From there it spiralled. She met Cale and all the other people under him. She got the support she needed to make her dreams come true. On top of that, her relationship with her blood relatives is still good.

Overall it was nice. Especially when Cale seems to keep making friends everywhere and expanding this family-esc circle they have.

That was why when Cale brought another person home Rosalyn thought it would be the same thing. Thought that in a few days' time, that person would be part of their group, their family.

Well in a way they were.

Rosalyn has come to see _____ as her younger sibling, the same way she views Lock. She has taken it upon herself to help the healer acclimatize to their new group and environment in general.

However, every time Rosalyn thinks she’s making progress, _____ seems to go back into their shell.

At first, the woman thought they were just socially awkward. Perhaps shaken because their family literally just threw them to their death.

Her first mistake was assuming it was as trivial as that.

Her second mistake was not getting the full story.

If she had done that then maybe she wouldn’t be this shocked so early in the morning.

Well in her defence she was expecting Cale to talk about some sort of plan for when they meet the dragon. Why else would he gather the group this early right before they are set to travel to the dragon’s lair?

Apparently not.

As soon as everyone has settled Cale brought to everyone’s attention that they didn’t know how _____’s powers work.

This made Rosalyn confused. Because quite frankly what does this have to do with… well anything?

But oh god, the more _____ explains their abilities the more she understood why this has to be said now.

This should have been explained way earlier. Because what do they mean that _____ essentially absorbs their patients' wounds?

It made the mage look back at all the people the Medicus had healed. All the sickness and wounds they had to absorb.

And shit.

She remembered that _____ has been doing this since they were 9 years old. Maybe even earlier as she discovered that the famous story of their adoption is fabricated.

Rosalyn may have only known _____ for a short while, but that’s her little sibling goddammit.

A sibling she admires because of how helpful and selfless they are. Traits they possess that Rosalyn is now starting to resent.

The redhead shot a pointed look at the other redhead in the room. A look that says Rosalyn wants her questions answered. Cale responded with another eye contact that seemed to say “Later”.

“Just what-”

Cale put his hand up to stop Rosalyn from speaking. Everyone was still in the room minus _____. The redhead had sent them out as they hadn’t finished packing their things yet.

“To put it shortly, I need you all to keep an eye on _____.”

The man goes on to explain how the healer kind of lacks… common sense, for lack of a better term. It has something to do with how they were brought up. 

“We don’t need to look after them like a child. Just make sure they won’t go overboard using their abilities. No guarding them like a hound either.”

It's a no-brainer that the last part was for the visibly enraged Choi Han. He was still visibly enraged but nodded as he understood why Cale didn't want the healer to have guards as of now.

Rosalyn is sure that Choi Han is going to be overprotective of _____ in some way. Not that she blames him.

Cale went to stand up, signifying that the meeting was over. The rest followed and started filing out of the room. 

Everyone except Rosalyn.

She has questions and she’s going to get answers.

“Young master, how long have you known?”

“Since last night.”

“Were they deliberately hiding it?”

“No, they just didn’t think they could bring it up when no one was asking.”

“How are we supposed to- haaa”

“Blame their shitty family.”

On their way to the dragon’s lair, Rosalyn had a lot on her mind. Lots of puzzle pieces to put together.

Now that Rosalyn knows the full story everything started to make sense.

Made her realize just how hurt her sibling had been.

Just how much they suffered before Cale met them.

It made Rosalyn look back to some of the habits she noticed _____ has. Like how they almost seem apprehensive to talk to people in authority. How their hands and voice tremble when they thought they made a mistake. How they are so intent on healing everyone and low-key seem scared if a person’s condition is out of their jurisdiction.

How they take everything with apprehension. Like they can’t believe that they are being given things. Even when those things are basic necessities like a good plate of food. How they teared up when Raon gave them that red teddy bear from the night market. How apparently that was the first toy– no, the first thing, that they have ever received in their entire life for free. The first gift they get to indulge in.

How they are too independent for Rosalyn’s liking. How they always insist that the servants have better things to do than assist them. How they refuse to get treated when sick or injured despite them treating everyone else.

How they never speak unless spoken to first. How they will literally just stand there, bleeding and not saying a word unless they are given some sort of permission. This one frustrates Rosalyn so much. Not only does she want to hear more from the healer, but she also thinks they have so many good ideas. Before she let it go she thought they were shy, but that’s slowly going to change from now on.

How even when they were suffering from nightmares they were silent. How on one of those nights they looked more scared that Rosalyn saw them being vulnerable, as if it's a sin to have nightmares. To be vulnerable and lean on others. How on that night Rosalyn had to explain that there’s nothing wrong with asking for help after such things. How _____ nodded but seemed apprehensive. How Rosalyn knew that after that night they still suffered silently. Merely holding the mage’s hand as solace and comfort on the rare nights the healer allows themself to embrace the help presented to them.

How Rosalyn found out now that it was because _____ have been taught that since they don’t scar then they must not have pain. Since they only get a percentage of their patient’s pain then it would be arrogant and privileged of them to complain.

How they–

How–

Fuck.

Rosalyn is going to get revenge for _____. 

She’s going to make sure she gets it done one way or another.

a/n at the end: i wasn't quite sure how to get the point across that rosalyn was angry and frustrated beyond belief so I made her curse as she isn't really someone who's portrayed to curse a lot

[godidontevenknowwhat]

Men like you

Jake Sully x Metkayina!Reader (Romancing Pandora 2024 Day 2 - Daddy Kink)

A/N: posting early today because I managed to finish this before work, yay! Sorry for any mistakes or grammatical errors especially approaching the end because I'm literally about to go in to work 😂

Tagging: @eywaite @neteyamsyawntu

Synopsis: When the great Toruk Makto was accepted into your clan instead of feeling apprehension or fear, like many other Metkayina, excitement pooled deep in your gut at the unfamiliar features and you ached to find out how different he truly was. Age difference be damned.

Warnings: Ambiguous age difference but reader is an adult that is at least 20+, no mention of Neytiri but mention of their kids so - you can imagine her lack of presence in whatever way you'd like, Dom!Jake x Sub!Reader, spitting, oral (male receiving), maybe I might do a part 2 with actual p in v at some point if people want it, 2.9k words in total

From the moment the Sully family first arrived by their Ikran on the white sand of your home, Awa’atlu, you were immediately entranced by their unfamiliar appearance and their plea for Uturu because of the tawtute. The deep sapphire of their skin reminded you of the unclear depths of the ocean outside the reef, their thin limbs and tails suited to their home rather than your own suited for top performance in the water. 

You had heard tales of the tawtute and their cruelty throughout your adolescence, heard stories that made your stomach turn about the battle that took place in the forests to the west of your clan’s reef. You had heard stories of the tawtute ‘dreamwalker’ Jake Sully, a human who walked in a na’vi shell and how he had tamed the large flying beast ‘Toruk’, how he had looked into the eye of Eywa only for Eywa to look back and grant his soul a place forever within his dreamwalker body. 

After almost a quarter of a cycle since the Sully family had been living in the Awa’atlu village you had found yourself growing close with the youngest girl, Tuk, a bright child who brought smiles to the whole clan with her sunny attitude. She clung to your side frequently, introduced to you by the group of Metkayina children that you took care of and taught a variety of skills to as their Karyu. 

Tuk’s favourite part of having you as her Karyu was the stories of your clan that you told her and she always spent time telling you stories of her own. She explained to you that her sister Kiri was actually born of another dreamwalker, a friend of her father’s named Grace and that because of the tawtute DNA that ran through her blood and the blood of Jake they had some features typical of the humans. Hair on their brows, five fingers and toes… these were the most obvious differences that Lo’ak, Kiri and Jake all had to the na’vi.

However, looking at Jake Sully sitting across the bonfire from you on this celebratory night for the youth in your clan that had passed their rites, you could pick out the more subtle differences in his appearance. The fire’s light cast a warm glow over the plains of his body, the dips and contours shadowed in a way that made your mouth water. 

It was obvious to anyone that the Metkayina were built differently to the Omatikaya, but Jake. Great Mother. 

His body held a softness around the stomach but he was fit nonetheless, thick muscles coiled his arms leading to broad shoulders. His forearms were equally defined with prominent veins that spanned their length down to his incredibly large hands. All five of his fingers were long and thick in a way that made your stomach flutter when you thought about them for too long, thought about how they’d feel inside you, thought about how they’d curl against your g-spot just right and make you scream.

Every part of Jake Sully was compelling to you, the way he held himself, the way he spoke, the strange tawtute words that still slipped through after years of speaking the native language. 

Lo’ak had let it slip once not long ago that the tawtute name Jake called you every time he thanked you for helping with Tuk and the others, “pretty”, was how the sky people called someone sevin. Even now as you thought about it, it brought a flush to your face and a million thoughts to your head about what that could possibly mean.

You never would have thought, in the name of Eywa, that Jake spent as much time admiring you as you did him. Watching how you interacted with his children was how it started, how you helped Tuk learn the ways of the Metkayina just as you did with the children of Awa’atlu, how you didn’t look at any of them differently no matter the amount of fingers or “demon blood” that everyone else in the reef seemed to only see while looking at them.

It was only after Jake saw what you did for his children that he allowed himself to look at you properly, to see you in the way you saw him.

He started by admiring the gentle waves of your hair, your hairstyle perfectly styled to keep it out of your face in the water. He admired the stormy blue of your eyes, eyes that held such love and care in them. He admired your smile, the way it stretched across your face and the way it brought a smile to his own without any trouble at all. Admiration and yearning slowly turned one in the same as time passed, Jake found himself  becoming more and more entranced by the soft curves of your body. 

While the Metkayina were softer all around compared to the Omatikaya, a layer of fat needed on your bodies to keep you warm for long periods in the water is what Norm’s theory was, Jake was sure the softness of your body was more than evolutionary. Your curves brought him back to earth, back when he was an idiot with no future flipping through history textbooks in his half-assed bid to get through school so he could at least support himself, back when he didn’t give a second thought to why the world he lived in was so shitty and corrupt or why the only way anyone could see the beautiful statues of goddesses carved centuries before in countries that barely existed anymore was in textbooks. When Jake truly looked at you, when he saw you, he saw the beauty of a goddess and he knew if he were to draw a picture of how he thought Eywa herself would look, it would be terrible because he can’t draw for shit, but it would be as close to your likeness as he could get it.

He was ashamed at first, when his thoughts about you began to turn to ones that were no better than the thoughts of a horny teenage boy, then when he spent more than a few sleepless nights picturing you under him until he came hard enough to send him into a sleep deeper than a coma the shame only grew. Shame ate at Jake, gnawed at him, buried its way under his skin and took up residency so profoundly that he couldn’t evict it. 

Sevin. Pretty. Sevin. Pretty. Pretty. Pretty.

The words swam in your mind like an infantile ilu, made a heat ignite beneath your skin that burned hotter than the bonfire and a flush stain your skin you were hoping the cup of kava you were working your way through could be a scapegoat for if anyone was curious.  

You watch Jake’s hands as they rub over his thick thighs, jumping in surprise when after a few moments he removed his hands and slapped them back down onto his thighs with a slap. You managed to make out that he said something about heading off, going back to his Marui and without any more lingering he pulled the waistband of his tewng higher on his waist from where it had slipped and took his leave.

You throw back the last of your kava and take a few unintentionally unsubtle glances around you to make sure you don’t have any unwanted attention before getting to your feet and following Jake in the direction of his Marui. You knew the path like the back of your hand purely from your excursions with Tuk and occasionally Lo’ak, able to find yourself outside in what felt like the blink of an eye. 

Jake is in the process of closing the privacy covers on his Marui when you approach with delicate footsteps on the connecting walkway, giving you no time to excuse yourself as his eyes lock straight onto yours. For a moment he looks surprised until a sharp grin spreads across his handsome face, his head tilting to the side slightly as he beckons your inside.

You find yourself frozen for just a moment until you will your feet to move, stepping into his home and watching as he finishes closing the privacy coverings. You watch the muscles of his back flexing as he does so, entranced by his body once again just as you had been at the bonfire.

“You’ve got a staring problem, you know that?” Your breath catches in your throat at his words, any confidence you had dwindling out like the doused flames of a fire. Jake senses your discomfort and turns to look at you, a less intimidating smile taking over his face as he approaches you. “Calm down, baby. Don’t worry. I’ve got a pretty bad staring problem too” His large hands move to rest on your hips, pulling you closer and forcing a gasp of surprise out of your mouth. His eyes peer down at you, a lustful haze darkening their amber colour, the way they lock on to your own makes a shiver trickle down your spine. “Stare at you all the time, pretty girl. I just know how to do it without being caught” You can’t control the giddy smile that spreads across your face, almost bringing an ache to your cheeks from the stretch of it.

“Open your mouth for me, pretty girl” Jake watches as your mouth opens automatically, taking a shameful amount of pride in the way you cling to his words and follow them without question. Your pretty pink tongue sits so sweetly in your mouth, spit beginning to pool the longer that he spends staring. Lifting his hand to your face, Jake takes a hold of it to steady you before tilting your head back ever so slightly and pursing his lips to spit onto your tongue.

Your head spins as a high whine escapes your throat, the pure filth of Jake’s actions causing your neglected cunt to pulse needily. You attempt to close your mouth and swallow the built up saliva before it becomes too much but before you can do so you feel the weight of Jake’s thumb settling itself into the dip of your tongue. 

Closing your lips around Jake's thumb, an uncontrollable moan escapes him at the feeling of your gentle sucking and pillow soft tongue. In a fleeting moment of cruelty, Jake forces his thumb deeper, pressing ever so slightly to the back of your tongue just to hear your pitiful little gurgle as you gag from the unexpected pressure.

“Christ, such a good girl for Daddy” He drags his thumb out of your suckling mouth, groaning at the uncontrollable throb of his cock when your pretty, plump lips part to release it. Your eyes watery from the slightest abuse of your gag reflex and Jake’s sure the amount of blood that has left his brain to harden his cock this much is going to leave him with less brain cells than he can afford.

“Da-dee?” 

Jake lets out a deep, rumbling growl at the sound of your sweet little voice despite the shoddy pronunciation of the human word and the sound shoots straight to your cunt, your slick dampening your tewng  “That’s right baby, M'your daddy now, aren’t I?” 

The sweet little crease of confusion settled on your brow only serves to turn him on more, tail whipping back and forth erratically as he stares you down with his piercing amber eyes. You watch his hands move from where he grips you to reach for the strings of his tweng, you can feel his amusement radiating from him at how you can’t seem to drag your eyes away until his voice breaks the silence.

“Why don’t you get on your knees for Daddy, pretty girl? C’mon get down there for me” His tewng drops from his body in near perfect sync with your knees dropping to the floor and you watch, entranced, as he spits into the palm of his hand before giving his impressive cock a few quick, slick tugs.

Jake can barely meet your lust-clouded eyes that flick back and forth between his hard cock and his face, worried that he’d lack the self control it would take to stop from stroking his dick in his tight grip until his fat load covered your face.

You feel Jake’s hand take a rough grip of your hair, all five of his fingers gripping your loose waves hard enough to make it sting just a little. 

“You want to suck it, pretty girl? Want daddy’s cock in your mouth?”

A desperate purr bubbles from your throat uncontrollably and your ears pin back in a show of pure submission “Please, Please daddy” 

Jake uses his grip on your hair to guide your head towards his cock, a growl rumbling from his throat at how hungrily you suck his cock deep into your mouth. Your eagerness makes your eyes water but a nagging part of your mind worries you’ll never have a chance like this again which only encourages you to not take a second of this encounter for granted.

Jake uses his grip on your hair to move your head up and down on his cock, abusing your throat with his length, your body fights to reject the intrusion with messy gags and excess spit drooling from your plump lips but you fight back the urge to gag every time and after a few moments of Jake using your throat how you dreamt he’d use your currently soaked pussy you were able to take him without any overwhelming issue. 

Jake is entranced by the tears that spill from your lash line, dampening your cheeks along with a mix of your saliva and his pre-cum that had been steadily drooling from his cock since you dropped to your knees. “So perfect for daddy”

You feel Jake’s grip tugging you off his cock and you whine from the disappointment, fighting his hold to have the weight of his cock in your mouth once again. All Jake can do is laugh fondly in disbelief at how much of a mess you were already, he can only imagine how you’d react if he decided to split your pussy open on the girth of his cock. “Tongue out for me, baby. Show me your tongue”.

You follow his instructions immediately, tongue lolling out of your mouth mindlessly. A desperate sob ripping from your throat when he begins tugging his cock with his free hand. “Ah, baby don’t get pouty now, your mouth was like heaven but I want to watch you look stupid for it, just for a second” 

Jake watches you as your cock drunk eyes seem to be latched straight on to his hands movements. He feels his heavy balls drawing closer to his body, his breathing getting heavier the closer he gets to blowing his load. “You wanna taste daddy’s cum, sweetheart? Got a big fucking load of it just for you” He taps the sensitive head of his cock against your tongue and lets out a borderline feral growl when you take the initiative to swirl your eager letting tongue around the tip. 

Jake’s hand is getting faster on his cock now, you watch eagerly as your cunt pulses with need and drools more slick into your tewng that sticks to your skin. He pulls back from your mouth and peers down at you, you can tell he’s close but needs something more to tip him over the edge. 

“Please cum for me, daddy”

Jake feels your words like a punch to the gut and can’t even suck in a breath before he’s cumming. Moans escape him uncontrollably as he watches each shot of his hot cum hit your face. The first hits your cheek and he knows immediately that he wants to cover your whole face with his load, no questions asked, it’s an animalistic desire that burns shamefully in his gut but he’s too lost in the throes of pleasure to fight it. 

Each shot of Jake’s hot cum that hits your face makes your clit pulse needily and you sob in pleasure, a dark desire inside you wishes that every drop was being pumped deep into your empty cunt instead.

Jake forces your mouth back open with a squeeze of your jaw, resting his cock on your tongue for a final time as he roughly tugs out the last drops of cum to at least let you taste him for being such a good girl.

The air is thick with desire as you swallow down the last of Jake’s load, the rest of it cooling the longer it sits on your face. Your eyes are locked with his, waiting for him to say something or do something.

Jake pants above you, admiring your debauched state. Your lips are swollen, your face and chest is soaked from your tears, his cum and your spit. Jake had never been any good at art or understanding it but in his head, right at this moment, your messy little face was a masterpiece and he was the artist that made it.

You startle slightly when Jake crouches in front of you, his hand cups your pussy through your tewng and the sudden pressure after being neglected for so long almost makes your knees buckle. Jake chuckles and pats your cunt condescendingly, enjoying the sound of the wet smack his hand produces as it makes contact with your slick tewng. 

“How about we clean up that pretty face of yours.. and then daddy can work on cleaning up your sweet little cunt?”

[funnier-as-a-system]

sorry for the possibly dumb question

what the fuck is a system

Don't worry, anon, this isn't a dumb question at all! Systems aren't very well-known, so I'm happy to explain them to you. I'll start by explaining what a system is, then go more in-depth about systems in general.

So, you know how most people are one person? Or, rather, you know how when you meet someone, you assume they're the only person in their body? You don't really think "I wonder if this person shares their body and life with other beings." or "I wonder if this person I know is actually multiple people all sharing the same body.", but that's how it is for systems!

In simple terms, a system is any collective group of self-aware entities that share the same body (which is, I fully acknowledge, a complicated definition, but basically we have multiple selves whereas most people would have just one, and each self has their own identity). We may not specifically consider ourselves individual people (some systems see themselves as separated parts of one whole person, for instance), but it'll probably help you understand if you think of us as people that happen to share the same body. We each have our own sense of self, ideas, feelings, personalities, and on and on, just like anyone else.

Although this probably sounds very strange and surprising, it's likely that you've heard of systems before – just not with that language. Many people have heard of "multiple personalities" or "Multiple Personality Disorder", which is how systems used to be known. This sort of understanding of systems is especially common in horror movies, which tend to depict systems as serial killers or monsters. Of course, systems are no more likely to hurt others than anyone else is, but the stereotype and stigma persists, and can lead to harassment or even violence against systems.

However, you may have also come across more positive depictions. Body sharing is a common trope, for instance. People with Dissociative Identity Disorder, who often describe themselves as systems, are being more often portrayed as regular or kind people rather than serial killers, such as Uendo Toneido from Ace Attorney. I've often seen systems point to characters and series like Venom, Sense8, and Moon Knight – which depict systems or situations and characters that resonate with systems – to describe what their lives are like. We often find characters that are rather like systems that may not have been intended to be read as such and have a laugh about it; you might be able to spot the same, now that you know what you're looking for.

So, systems can be understood as when a single body is inhabited by more than one person, or being, or entity (whichever term you prefer). We may share the same body, but we each have our own selves, and often, our own names and identities, too.

That's the essence of it! I'll put more under the cut about systems in case you're curious.

For starters, if you're looking into systems, you'll probably run across the term "plurality", which is an overarching term that refers to all instances of someone sharing a body/brain; it is the state of being more-than-one, not just an individual collection of beings in a single body (the latter is what the word "system" specifically refers to). There's also the word "plural", which can be used either as a noun to mean the same thing as "system", or as an adjective to describe things that involve or exhibit plurality. For instance, I am plural. I very much enjoy talking about plurality and plural characters in fiction.

(As a comparison, you may think of video chats/group calls. Plurality, here, would be video chats in general. Meanwhile, a specific video chat – called a webinar – would be a system. And the people in a webinar would be the members of a system. Or, for another example, plurality would be education, a system would be a class, and the members of that system would be the students.)

Speaking of, beings who share a body – who are part of a system – are called many different terms. Two of the most common are "headmate" and "alter", although I also see "system member" a lot. I could say that my headmate was rather helpful today, or that my alter was fronting yesterday. Alter is more medical of a term, but it's more standard, especially in some other languages outside English.

But, wait, you might be wondering what fronting is! Well, since we all live in the same body, we've got to share control of it too, don't we? Fronting is what we call controlling the body, and switching is when we change who is in control. Some systems switch often, while others switch rarely, or only under certain circumstances, and some systems never switch at all. Switching may be involuntary, or it may be a voluntary skill a system has picked up. There's a lot of variety across systems.

Plurality is most often known in the context of DID, or Dissociative Identity Disorder, which often involves a lot of involuntary switches. P-DID, or Partial Dissociative Identity Disorder, meanwhile, involves very few switches, but these are likely to be involuntary, as well. There are other disorders that plurality may be a part or symptom of, but plurality can also exist as its own non-disordered state, so long as there's no attached or related issues causing problems for the system (ex. memory issues are another frequent problem in DID, and these memory issues come from the members of a system not remembering what the others did when those alters were fronting).

You may be wondering, how does this happen? How does someone become a system? There are many different ways. Sometimes, it's a part of someone's culture, religion, or spirituality. Sometimes, it's the brain's response to trauma, trying to protect itself. Sometimes, someone is simply born this way. Sometimes, someone may become a system out of the blue, or cause their own plurality somehow. Some systems have a multitude or mix of origins. Most studies on systems currently focus on systems that originate from trauma, as these systems most often have issues – including the trauma in question – that need to be looked into and addressed, but there are some budding studies into systems with other origins, such as the few current and ongoing studies on created systems (the aforementioned systems that cause their own plurality).

I'm simplifying some things here; identity such as this gets increasingly nuanced and personal as you learn more and more (for example, as said before, not all system members identify as individual persons, even if it can help understand them to think of them like individual persons that just happen to share a body). But I hope this helped you learn at least the basics about systems!

[suhjihanma]

Hello could I request bonten Rindou x pregnant reader when they are hanging out with bonten in hideout and reader started to feel pain in stomach but it was only baby kicking and Rindou came and started to carry her stomach to help her a little and bonten was so soft bc of pictures in front of them. They look at reader as bonten's princess yk like little sister, especially Ran(everyone except Rindou ofc)

Thanks

Pairing: Rindou Haitani / Female Reader (Ran Haitani and Sanzo Haruchiyo) Content: Pregnant reader, pregnancy, mentions of "idiot" being used as name-calling, slight mention of alcohol/drug dealing. Author's Note: Ah. So I tried my best to work this prompt. (Also, I'm a little behind with my reading my manga so please don't come for me, ah.) Nevertheless, I still hope you enjoy! Beat me up.

Another night of you hanging with the regular group of men. Laying back on the fine leathered sofa, you can't help that looking at them banter around brings back memories. Both good and bad, you really appreciated being in their company, regardless of how certain questionable things fly your radar.

You dismiss them rightfully so, as you were right by your right-handed man, now holding something special inside you. Life.

"Of all the women you messed around with, you got me pregnant." You chimed in with the bantering as the man that you laid your life to looks at you with a questionable look on his face.

Women's intuition strong, you busted out laughing before holding your stomach in place, not disturbing your child with the intense shaking of laughter. Rindou always gave you those looks. You assumed it was one of his signature looks that he gave you while spouting your typical nonsense.

You didn't think it was nonsense. It was the truth, and nothing but. Being through everything with him and for the other fellow members, you would have left him, but you sense something in Rindou. Despite his sadistic nature, and the willingness to remain loyal to his men, you saw a soft side to him. One that had made you faithful to him since day one.

He placed his hand over your stomach, feeling the faint, painful kicks that fluttered your body. "You are so smart, you know that?" Pressing buttons was his well-known trait , and even seeing that you're pregnant, you would think he would let off easy with the tasteless remarks.

"And you have a smart-ass mouth, you know that?" You slowly rise up from the couch with a grimacing look on your face, Rindou's hand still on your stomach. He noticed your expression, and you nodded your head in agreement, noting to him that you were okay.

"Easy." He guided you from your standing position, now in the back of you with both of his hands slightly carrying your stomach.

"Idiot, no cursing in front of the child." He chuckled while slowly caressing your stomach. You couldn't help but to roll your eyes at his dry humor. Entertaining at least, but sometimes it can come off at moments where you just had enough.

"It's not like she can hear." You scoffed. "Hey, Ran."

The brother of Rindou looked over at your direction over by the couch, a whiskey in hand and wonder in thought. "Yes?" You overhear his question while it then got drown by Rindou placing small kisses over the back of your neck.

"Do you think babies can hear cuss words?" A senseless question that didn't need answering. You were curious about Ran's answer. For some odd reason, you felt like Rindou was rolling his eyes while kissing you. You didn't question it.

"They can hear words, but I guess those words aren't registered in their language or whatever." Ran takes a sip of his whiskey and laughs. "But I can go in depth another day, _______"

"Yeah, let's save that discussion later on." Rindou continues to pepper kisses all over you, ignoring half of what Ran said about your question.

"Ah, come on, Rindou, let's learn something from your brother, at least."

Rindou looks at Ran with a blank expression before nipping at your collarbone, making you jump from the touch of his teeth skirting over sensitive. "What he needs to learn is how to push. Profit is slowly declining from different areas in the city." He mutters to himself, before lowering his tone. "It'll be a bitch and a half to push weight in the red-light district. Cops are getting worse."

Hearing his brother with the usual complaints, Ran looks at him with a questionable look similar to his brother's counterpart. "I know that." Looking at the glass of whiskey in hand, Ran changes the subject by looking at you with a reassuring smile.

"When is she due, _____?" He asks. "I saw the ultrasound pictures of her and the group chat won't shut up about it."

"Can't help it. When she comes out, we'll make her a true member. The first female!" Sanzu chimes with excitement as he comes from one of the rooms in the hideout.

"My child is going to have an education, thank you." You disagreed with Sanzu's word of choice as you walked away from the couch, Rindou aiding you with walking.

"She can have an education, too." Sanzu includes before sitting down on the couch that you were previously on.

"My child is already tampered with the things going on here already." Rindou sighs. "Anyway, where's the rest of the gang?" Rindou looks around the room in search of more of the members, but only Ran and Sanzu were present. You looked at him with a face of slight disgust before complaining yet again of his mouth. "It's my child too, idiot." Rindou looks at you, surprised, before going back to look the other members who were looking at you with slight smirks on their faces.

"They're at the club with some other affiliates. Usual conference." Ran stiffens a laugh with taking another swig of his whiskey.

"I swear, she acts like a little sister to you," Sanzu laughs. Ran couldn't help himself, but to let out a soft chuckle. "I'm afraid Sanzu's right." Sanzu looks at him in confusion. "What you mean by that?"

Ignoring his question, Ran turns to face Rindou and then you. "A little sister to us, and a true woman to him. You lucked out, _____."

"We care about you, ______." Ran smiles. "Even in this lifestyle, we still care about our loved ones. Remember that, please."

Your cheeks feel hot due to embarrassment and you couldn't help but to look down at the floor before looking back at Rindou who placed a kiss on your lips.

"You can say the most pretentious shit, Ran." You feel a trail of lips slowly crawling to the top of your neck. "Even though she's my lady, she can be a pain in my ass," Rindou scoffed while smiling at you, planting a kiss before you continued on with your rants.

The tiredness of your pregnancy was an excuse to not go in with Rindou, as you continued to roll your eyes out of annoyance. You question your child's future with having your partner and yourself be affiliated with a dangerous organized like Bonten.

Nevertheless, you're grateful for your situation, regardless of how a mess it is. You're rich in everything.

Rich in having a man that cares for you deeply despite the bad consequences he lands himself in.

And rich in having a girl that both of you will love and cherish deeply, despite the circumstances that'll make you worry about her upbringing in this situation.

[darlingmbappe]

Innocent Offer | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

Summary: Kylian begrudgingly admits his lack of sexual experience to you. As a good friend would, you offer him some help. Based on this request.

Warnings: Literally just smut, so minors don't you dare. Keep scrolling, nothing to see here! Virgin!Kylian, experienced!reader. Oral (male receiving), friends to lovers kinda, cussing. This was repurposed from another fic I wrote while I was in another fandom. I'm 99% sure I fixed all of the names/inconstancies. It's a little short, sorry guys! Let me know if I missed anything! — English is not my first language —

Masterlist

“You’re lying.” The accusing words come out of your mouth through a smirk. The boy sat across from you leaning on the headboard of the huge daybed in his gameroom with crossed arms, avoiding your gaze after having just admitted something he never thought he would. Especially to you — the girl he’s been silently (but heavily) crushing on for at least an entire year.

Kylian scoffed, pinching at a loose thread on his T-shirt sleeve. “Now, why the hell would I lie about that?”

You sit on the same bouncy mattress he did, leaning on one arm while you try to catch his eyes. He’s clearly embarrassed — not that he has to be. You didn’t want to make him feel bad about it, but couldn’t help yourself from making sure you heard him right.

“You’ve never gotten a blowjob?” He purses his lips as an answer. “A handy?” He shakes his head slightly, trying to focus on anything but your interrogation. “Not even before...”

He throws his arms down in frustration. “No, alright? Let’s just make it clear that no girl has ever seen my dick and move on. Please.” He snaps in a mumble, feeling slightly humiliated at the topic of conversation.

Your hands raise in defeat, committing yourself to dropping it for his sake.

You haven’t known Kylian for that long, a little over a year at most. What began as an acquaintance through friends of friends developed into a strange friendship of its own. After getting formally introduced to each other four times at separate events and droning ‘we’ve met’ each time, there was a sort of unspoken fellowship. Once you finally got to speak at someone's birthday party at the open bar, you two didn’t stop for hours. Laughing and trading stories until your separate groups dragged you both away. Now, you see him constantly. You were always getting those 'come over' texts the second he got home from training. You two just clicked.

You watched his chest rise and fall as he did his best to focus on the giant TV mounted on the wall, giving your eyes time to feed on his tense shoulders, his exposed collar bone begging to be kissed.

You wanted him to relax; you’re not judging him, you just couldn’t believe he was a virgin. He’s just so confident… and so goddamn sexy. You were actually kind of convinced he was a man-whore. You’ve seen all these women throw themselves at him over the course of just one year, but you never thought about the fact that you’d never seen him go home with any of them until just this second.

The words ‘no girl has ever seen my dick’ echoed in your head, your thoughts have been reduced to more perverted ones. You cared about Kylian so much and you noticed the way he looked at you sometimes, so you tried to be flirty and let him know that you were very much interested... but he would turn away and get shy about it each time. You just assumed he wasn’t into you and cut your losses, satisfied enough with a close friendship with the global star. Now, you’re thinking maybe he wasn’t uninterested, just flustered.

You crawled up the bed and sat next to him shoulder-to-shoulder, leaning your back on the headboard. He stayed completely still as he felt the heat of your body next to his, wishing he had just lied or something. 

Kylian looked back at his lap. “Will you stop looking at me like that?” You furrow your eyebrows, his words snapping you out of your own head. “It’s just… My whole life I've been so focused on becoming the world's greatest football star and then… I don’t know. Time flew by and all of the sudden I’m twenty four and still a…” He cuts himself off avoiding the V-word, simultaneously contradicting his whole let’s move on plea. He gulps, fiddling with his ring as if he had never seen one before. “I… I’m not going to be any good at it and I feel like women have all these expectations while sleeping with a football player, and I don’t want to embarrass myself. At this point I have to wait until it’s someone I trust, but I don’t have time for a relationship. Maybe I’m thinking too much about it.” He shrugs. “It’s not on purpose, is what I'm trying to say.”

You can’t seem to look away. He’s flustered and cute while he chews on the inside of his cheek. Maybe his shy confession has you wanting to take care of him, or maybe the infatuation you’ve suppressed for so long is coming back up to the surface; whatever it was drove you crazy. Crazy enough that you couldn’t stop yourself from saying something so bold. So direct. So out of character...

“Can I give you a blowjob?”

Kylians eyebrows shoot up, whipping his head to the side to finally meet your eyes. You could see him searching for any form of malice, he wondered if you were pulling some sadistic prank on him.

Maybe he didn’t hear you right – it was the only explanation he could come up with.

He opened his mouth to ask, but absolutely nothing came out. His lack of response kept you on the edge of your seat, giving you time to think about what you had just offered. It was ridiculous, inappropriate… he was going to think you were a weirdo. But you couldn’t back out now, it’s already out there. 

“Wh—uh. I… Me?” He eventually stuttered, a blush creeping up his neck and cheeks.

“Who else could I possibly be talking to, Ky?” He just continues to stare. “Look, if you don’t want that, we can just pretend I never said anything.”

“No! I mean… yes. I mean…” He laughed awkwardly, shifting slightly to face you. Your brows pinched together, confused at his mixed response. “A-are being serious?”

“Dead serious, Mbappé.” You could see he was conflicted. You give him a few seconds to think before speaking again. “I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not just offering because you’ve never had one before. I want to do it for you. I wanna make sure you feel comfortable with the person. No judgments.” The idea of making Kylian moan sends a shiver down your spine. You see him gulp. “But, again, say the word and we’ll forget about this.”

His eyes are so wide looking into yours. “Y-you’re sure about this?” You nod, smiling and taking his hand into yours on his lap. “Then… yeah. Hell yeah.” Kylian grins, the rosey color deepening on his cheeks. He knew he would have to be an idiot to pass up this offer.

With his clear consent, you bite your lip, looking down at your locked hands and extending your fingers to free them from his lazy grip. You began to rub his palm softly, letting your finger graze off onto his jean covered thigh, going over his exposed skin through one of the rips. You applied more pressure as you slowly let your touch get closer to his crotch — Kylian’s breath hitched every time you made your way up.

You sat up on your knees and straddled one of his thighs, you continued your movements with both hands now. Looking up at him, his eyes were barely open but they stayed on you.

“You can tell me to stop at any time, okay hun?” The nickname was new, but felt right in the moment.

“Don’t.” He choked out, his hands now resting on the sheets.

Your right hand finally settled on his semi. The second it landed there he grunted, shifting himself lower on the matress. You wanted to kiss his parted lips, glistening with spit as he quickly went over them with his tongue.

You leaned in but landed your kiss on his neck just below his jaw. You wondered if anyone had ever kissed him there before as you bit the skin gently, earning a muffled groan and another gulp from the man underneath you. You continued a path of wet kisses and hickeys all over his neck, his semi now almost completely hard in his jeans. Pulling back, you looked at Kylian— his eyes threatening to close but prying themselves open, the dim light from his lamp making your spit glisten on his bruising neck. His breathing was quick and heavy. Seeing him like this under you makes you realize… you’ve got it bad for Kylian Mbappé.

Kylian couldn’t believe the sight in front of him. He must be having another one of his wet dreams or maybe took a ball to the head and was hallucinating. He had to reach out and grab your waist to confirm that this was reality. It was actually happening.

Slowly, you pop open the button on his jeans, pulling down the zipper. His erection was begging to be let loose and from what you had felt, he was definitely packing. When he lifted his hips to allow you to pull the material down to his mid thigh, leaving only his blue checkered boxers, you got your first real glimpse at what you had gotten yourself into.

You let out a soft ‘mhm’ as you let your forefinger touch his tip through his boxers, feeling the warm wetness of his precum against the pad.

“Ah, Dieu.” He breathed, digging his fingers into your hips. “Just so you know—hha, putain—I probably… I definitely won’t last long.”

You can see the apologetic look under his hooded eyes already. “Kyks, I’m not expecting you to.” You began playing with the hem of his boxers, lifting his shirt enough to see his belly button, letting your nail scratch at the minimal scruff of his happy trail. “I don’t want you to worry about that, okay?” He nodded, his warm palms rubbing your outer thighs. “I just want you to enjoy it.”

Blowjobs were kind of your thing. Your asshole ex made sure you knew how to give really good head, which was funny since he never once bothered to learn where your clitoris was. Either way, this was your area of expertise — your sexual superpower, if you will.

You pulled his boxers down, watching his length pull down until it released and sprang up, slapping Kylian’s belly.

Holy shit.

“Holy shit.” You said out loud. What a nice cock Kylian had. Long, slightly thick, a perfectly irritated mushroom head twitching against his soft skin. It definitely would be a challenge.

You palmed up his erection in one swift movement, immediately hitching Kylian’s breath, his eyes glued to your every movement. You wrapped your fingers around his tip, letting your thumb spread around his juices. You laid down between his legs, your face now inches away from his throbbing cock.

“Ready?”

“God, yes.”

Your tongue pressed flat against his slit, swirling around and tasting him like a lollipop. He moaned and threw his head back, the sound he made going straight to your aching pussy. The floodgates have opened between your legs with just the first lick, causing you to hum against him.

“Christ, (Y/N).” He hissed at the vibration.

You pulled off for a second, spitting down onto him, using your hand to spread the moisture to make it easier to take him all in. Because you were determined to take every inch of him.

Lowering your head back down, you hollow your cheeks and create suction. He shivered with a harsh exhale and reached to hold your hair back so he could see your face sinking into him.

The second your hands moved to play with his balls, he jolted. “Shit!”

You popped him out of your mouth quickly and concerned. “You don’t like that?”

“Jesus, I love it. Feels so good, amour. So fucking good.” He quickly insisted, involuntarily jutting into your hand that was wrapped around him.

With a smirk upon hearing the nicknames he called you, you took him back into your mouth and continued to squeeze his sack, bobbing your head up and down with your tongue pressed flat against his length, his eyes pressing closed with a loud moan. You looked up at him through your lashes until his eyes finally opened and met yours. Taking this opportunity, you shoved him all the way down your throat, your lips pressing against his pelvis, your nose buried in his bush of neatly trimmed hair.

He gasped then moaned, trying to form a coherent praise for you, but it came out muddled between huffs of air. You shook your head slightly against him suppressing your gag reflex as he continued to mumble incoherently under your grasp. You came back up for air, jerking him off as you stared at him… so pretty. “I- I can’t… merde. I’m gonna cum soon if you pull that shit again.”

“Am I making you feel so good, Ky?” You innocently asked.

“The fuck do you think?” He jokingly retorts at his disheveled state, making you giggle. “So good.” You had begun sucking on one of his balls, licking and swirling it in your mouth. Both his hands lifted to cover his red face and his tummy moved quickly with every breath.

You licked a stripe back up to his tip, taking all of him back your mouth without warning, deepthroating him once again. His tip pushed back behind your uvula and you were quickly bobbing your head up and down, letting his sensitive head rub back and forth against the back of your throat.

All you could hear was your gurgling sounds and Kylian’s loud huffs of air until his moans became more prominent. “I’m g-gonna cum—oh fuck—ahh!”

His warning wasn’t much of a warning, immediately feeling the hot spurts of white fill your mouth and trickle down your open throat. Your one hand squeezed his balls while the other scratched down his exposed thigh. He moaned and his whole body was twitching, squirming his legs around. You helped Kylian ride out his high until there was definitely no more cum left to give.

You lifted off of him gasping for air, swallowing everything he had given you. You looked down at his still twitching cock as it began to soften, wet with your spit and his own cum.

Now sitting up on your knees, you both caught your breaths until you broke the silence, growing impatient. “So..?”

His eyes peered into yours, a satisfied smile taking over his features. Broken between breaths, he finally spoke. “That had to be… the best blowjob… in the history… of blowjobs.”

You laughed, swinging your legs over the bed and stretching out your back. “Careful Kyks, you’re gonna give me a big head.”

“You just gave me big head.” He chuckled, pulling his clothes back to their rightful place.

You shook your head and blushed. “You’re ridiculous.” You looked at the time on your phone. “Shit. I'm late for my shift.”

He sat up as you hurriedly grabbed your things. You probably should have checked the time before you offered oral to your best friend.

“What—you’re leaving? You can’t leave… I didn’t even get to return the favor.” He argued.

“I didn’t realize that was part of the deal.” You quirked a brow as you put your boots on.

“I mean…” He blushed, watching your every move. “I’d like for it to be.” He stuttered.

You stood up smirking, walking to stand over him on his bed. Leaning down, you planted a kiss on his cheek, close to his mouth. “I’ll see you later, okay, big boy?”

You left him speechless when you walked out of his room, frozen in place. The touch of your lips against his skin invaded his body with goosebumps and then he realized: he never got to kiss you.

He knew now that no other girl could be his first. It had to be you.

Y/N: Short and filthy! So, like I mentioned, this was repurposed from an old fan account I had for a separate fandom a year or so ago. Love y'all!

Taglist: @trentione @mentalbaddie @neymarsrealgf @akiraquote @mrswhitethornbelikov @kymb-10 @formula101x @photmath @marcelineslove @tsikik @iheartkyky @freshfraise @jokertbh @germanapples @urfuturesoccerwife @nightlockcornucopia @laylaynaynay130 @starlight8374 @depressoesssspresso @mbappesbae @ maddyperrezz @gigiboss @xanjoy @lovekm @jkkiks @vvbasmavv-blog @suzysface @ lolarmy72 @lizzz2967 @kylians-world @superswaggycooch @shashla @mehrmonga @abayo222 @missmo79 @tties24-7 @gurleenkl @drewstarkeysbae @ vibinwkay @ctn26 @ippid @i0veless @abayo222 @b-bradshaw @http-isabela @zoeeeruiz @mitruscity @kenanlotus0 @mbapbaesluvr @alwaysclassyeagle @nhatquynh @philipetchebest @ricsaigaslec @dfswfvf @urfav-tz @kylianswag @fanatica2023 @alexisquinnlee-bc @megannandrewss @christianpulisic10 @pleasantducktimetravel @forevernightmaree @sachaa-ff @neymarloverxxx @4nn4rchive @lunamelona @m-uga @venomwh0re @edgyficuselastica @slaywhatyouwannaslay41 @pietromaximoffsbabe @krishnan-mbappe

[revalition]

OCT 5 - CONCEPTUALIZATION

Understand creativity. See Art in the world.

sorry so few drawings in today's (and the really lazy colouring job) I'm very tired and wanted to still get it out. I love love conceptualization!! I'll draw and colour you properly some day.

I drew him with legs in my banner (still a WIP, I need to colour it...) and I'm not sure what I like more... definitely don't ever expect tons of consistency from me haha

Alsoooo... I think I'm going to do mondays off instead of sundays so I don't split up the 4 groups across the break. and volition's realllly gonna need that extra day, I love that guy way too much

anyway! as usual tons of quotes and comments under the cut! conceptualization has sooo many amazing ones, it's too hard to limit it to 29 :(((

PALE PALE PALE

actually me the second I heard about the pale. I've spent a likely unhealthy amount of time contemplating it. I did a science project on the possible ways the Universe will eventually end when I was like 15 and only gotten worse since then, I live for this stuff. It fascinates me endlessly

ily conceptualization and volition. I had to suffer through the unbelievably embarrassing ordeal of the failed poetry the first time, when conceppy stopped it the second time I immediately fell in love.

NO why is turning him down an option??

:(

this was so vivid and sad

the whole revacholian nationhood quest is so delusional... but conceptualization is going to embrace it anyway

art cop my beloved

of course he'd find it artistic... it's definitely a statement I suppose

much love for this, conceptualization comforted me into accepting the sorry cop, like... 30 minutes into my first run

don't be sorry honey I always want to hear your artsy thoughts

Yes this is the poetry fail again... this was actually incredibly painful. Also first day of my first run, walked out of the Whirling over to the lorries. So many moments of 'what did I doooo' over picking 1 INT...

Almost every fail ends up with the failing skill giving you really really bad advice, I love how this time conceptualization is just. desperately trying to stop you from continuing. and he can't!! it just gets *worse*!! I'm not including the rest of the poem, I don't want to even look at it. conceptualization ily for trying to stop the horrors...

hehe conceptualization hates improv

ough I love this one. referring to Le Retour.

un jour je serai de retour pres de toi...

actually me as soon as the hyperfixation stops

silver stars melted down...

ough I love the melancholy of a lot of conceptualization's comments.

this one especially. it's so simple, but deeply, deeply sad. the authors of this game were definitely no strangers to grief.

I love when the skills are silly

I love these, they just make my heart happy

mm... true

hehe

I gain a year of life every time anyone mentions harry's blue soul. ily conceptualization

that's it thanks to the evil screenshot limit :((( I hit it so fast too. I'm going to actually die on Volition day. Maybe I can just type the quotes instead of screenshotting them... there's no character limit hehe

running through conceptualization's other language names through google translate: unconventional, concept formation, abstraction

I like these. Most translate directly to conceptualization, but the ones that don't are always cool.

ough I love conceptualization a lot. I barely heard from him my first run, but maxed him out the second. Him and inland empire and shivers are my lovely poetic boys.

Volition trusting Conceptualization is also extremely!!! important to me. as far as I remember, conceptualization isn't identified as compromised either. He just wants art. Even tells you to "lay off that love stuff, if you can" at one point. I'm very fond of him.