#frozen into icy rocks

[dark-moonlust]

Gargoyle Guardian

Pairing: Gargoyle x human reader

Summary: The gargoyle guardian awakened upon sensing your presence. His mate. He will have you no matter what.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, monster smut, double 🍆🍆, vag and anal, explicit descriptions. Don't like, don't visit my blog.

The clock struck midnight.

Stone cracked and fell away.

“I have watched over this place for centuries,” the creature rumbled. “But in all those years I have never come upon something so beautiful.”

You turned around and stood frozen. The gargoyle had talked. It was alive when mere seconds ago it was a mere rock. His dark red gaze locked onto yours as he descended from his pedestal in the ancient cathedral. The full moon cast light over the creature’s form, he was large and imposing with a chiseled chest, firm legs, and huge wings.

You wanted to run, to flee but you felt a strange pull that made you stay.

The gargoyle landed with grace, barely disrupting the ground despite his formidable size.

Dark red eyes stared at you and for a second there they flashed with animosity. And then, liquid lust coursed through you. You forgot the need to run, you ignored your fear, too entranced by the creature’s ancient magic.

You were being seduced.

And you willingly succumbed.

In a flurry of moments, he lifted you, placing on the cool platform of the cathedral.

You found yourself on all fours, palms and knees on the floor, ass up high in the air. Clothes were ripped and your skin shivered once exposed to the cool night air. You felt icy fingers traveling over your flesh, cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples.

The touches continued. He caressed your sides, your arms, feeling your belly and thighs, stopping at your mound. He cupped you there, probing your wet cunt with a blunt finger. An involuntary moan escaped you.

“My mate,” the gargoyle drawled against your neck. “I finally found you. Mine. Mine.”

“Yours?” You asked, too entranced by the hold he had upon you, mental and physical.

“You’re mine, little pet,” he said fondly, retracting his sharp nails and letting his fingers safely slide across your pussy, rubbing your clit before slipping inside.

Eyes closing, you whined and wiggled your ass as he fingered you, fucking you with one digit then adding one more. He gathered your wetness in two digits and rubbed them on your pouting asshole, before pushing them inside. You protested but his free hand slapped over your mouth, robbing you of speech.

No one had touched you there before.

Another whine left you.

The fingers in your ass turned from two to three. Your unused hole stretched around the gargoyle’s thick fingers, causing you pain and pleasure. You burned and craved to come. But just as you were about to have your release, the fingers drew back.

“You’ll take me now, little mate. You’re ready.”

Before you could summon a reply, you felt the press of something warm and pulsing. You looked back, jaw going slack at the two cocks pressing against you. Two! They were similar, gigantic, and an angry gray color. The first shaft was thick and curvy with pearly drops on the bulbous head. The other one was just as big, etched with throbbing veins and self-lubricant.

Fear flashed in your eyes as both shafts settled on your little holes. The pressure and stretch overwhelmed you. Inch by inch they invaded your depths, claiming you. They reached the hilt, your belly round and so very filled. Growling, the creature drew back, his cocks coming out slick with your juices.

The gargoyle growled in satisfaction and fucked you slow and steady.

The palm covering your mouth loosened so he could slide two fingers in your mouth. They curled and reached the back of your throat. You gagged and whimpered as he took you, and you came wildly on both cocks while they thrust and thrust inside you. He didn’t stop fucking you. The primal pounding didn’t stop for what felt like hours. He kept you there, pinned under him while he fucked your pussy and your ass, your belly bulging with his cocks.

As the first light of dawn approached, his movements turned frantic.

You were a mess, having had one climax after the other.

When he finally came, both cocks exploded within you, spurting buckets and buckets of warm cum. It overflowed, dripping down your shaking legs and making puddles on the ground. Your eyes closed as sleep and exhaustion took you, while the gargoyle held you close, his cocks still hard inside you.

“You are mine now. And I will protect you always.”

[rafey-baby]

forbidden fruit 2

Once upon a time there was a princess and a hunter...

snow white!reader x hunter!rafe

c/w: mentions of violence & murder, one bed (my fav cliche ever!), slightly suggestive, also if it’s not obvious this is *loosely* based on the story of snow white, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.4k

is he warming up to her? #it’s hard to tell

part one & moodboard

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

“Have you ever considered a less...um, violent job?” she asks, nausea coiling in her guts at the mere thought of harming— let alone killing an innocent animal.  

The inky sky has turned into an even gloomier hue, and if it wasn’t for the luster of the moonlight illuminating their journey, they wouldn’t be able to see a thing. However, it’s still a challenge for them (her) to evade the thick roots hiding underneath the spongy moss and brittle lichen— she thinks her fingers aren’t enough to count the times Rafe has had to prevent her from toppling over onto the soil with a steadying grip on her arm.  

At this point, she can’t comprehend how he even knows where they’re going. She thinks that every rock and tree trunk they pass resembles the last but apparently, he’s using them to track the route to his cabin— something he tried to teach her about two hours ago, but gave up the moment her attention was captured by a tiny squirrel hurriedly scampering off into its hiding spot.   

“If I’m bein’ honest, I think killin’ is the only thing m’good for at this point,” he murmurs while inspecting a fallen spruce in the middle of their path. 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” she argues, rounding the obstacle while he simply steps over it.   

“Tha’s cause you don’t know me. Listen, m’not…m’not a good person, I’ve done some, uh, real shitty things, alright?” he looks over to her, gemstone eyes sullen.   

She wonders if the real shitty things include other people’s blood on his hands. After all, the queen wouldn’t have asked him to end her life if he’d never done it before. A shiver creeps up her spine when a vivid image of him doing something so remorseless flashes in her mind.  

However, it’s soon replaced by him dropping the knife and sparing her life, even if it meant complicating his own.   

“I think…a bad person wouldn’t be helping me right now,” her words are honest but he doesn’t offer her a reply, merely flits his eyes over her frame with a furrow in his brow.   

They fall into a serene silence, wordlessly treading further and further into the somber forest while she keeps getting distracted by the glittering stars above them; mesmerized by the beauty of something so far away from all the cruelty on this planet.   

However, when she goes on to take her next step, the ground (or what she thought was the ground) suddenly cracks underneath her, the partly frozen lid of the pond shattering with a loud crackle— only a surprised squeal leaving her throat when she loses her footing and tumbles right into the frigid water with a splash.   

Turns out, it’s not just some small little puddle that’s partly covered by fallen leaves and branches, but a rather deep one; saturating her all the way up to her neck as she gasps for breath when the coldness surrounds her helpless limbs.  

“Shit.”   

She hears Rafe hiss before humored laughter bubbles from his chest.  

“Rafe, this is not funny,” she complains with her teeth chattering when the icy liquid soaks through the fabric of her dress in an instant.   

“M’sorry, you jus’ look like a wet kitten right now,” he shakes his head, chuckling as he extends an arm towards her— pulling her up and steadying her with a firm grip on her waist.  

“Ow,” she cries out when she leans her weight on her left foot.   

“What’s wrong?” he seems almost concerned as he scans her for any visible injuries.   

“Think I sprained my ankle, it hurts,” she frowns, reaching for his forearm for balance.   

“Of course you did, told you to be careful,” he clicks his tongue, slightly annoyed at the fact that she really is a helpless case. “Can you walk?”   

“I don’t know…” she mumbles; face crumpling up when she tries to take a step forward.   

“Right, uh, c’mere then,” he huffs out before his hands are on her waist once more and he’s lifting her into his arms like a bag of flour.   

“Oh, you don’t have to—”   

“There’s no way you’re walkin’ right now,” he scoffs as he shifts her into a better position before he’s continuing their trek. “What would you even do without me, hm?”   

“Probably freeze to death like you said,” she pouts, eyes despondent when she leans into his supportive hold.  

“Yeah.”   

“M’sorry,” she sniffles, the ache in her foot combined with him being mad at her causing her eyes to burn.  

“Shouldn’t be that long ’till we’re there, princess. Think you can manage not to cry before we get there?” 

“I don’t know…it hurts and m’cold,” she sulks, feeling miserable, even if she knows she should be grateful she’s not dead or alone in the woods right now.   

“You’re a big girl, know you can take it. You’ll feel better soon, yeah?” he attempts to provide her some sort of comfort with his limited knowledge of handling something so fragile.   

She hums out something incoherent in response, weak arms wrapping around his neck as she takes in a shaky inhale— damp skin prickling under the chilly air that’s making the leafy trees sway back and forth, reminding her of shadowy ghosts.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -   

“Uh, think there should be a dry shirt for you here somewhere…” he trails off as he goes through his closet. “This is probably a little too big but should be fine, yeah?”   

The cabin is small and secluded; the darkened walls blending in with the rest of the forest and concealing them from the outside, making her feel strangely secure. However, his taste in decor makes her rather uneasy as she tries to desperately focus on the crackling fireplace beginning to warm up her trembling limbs and not the assortment of dead animals and their fur or other body parts on display.   

“Oh, it’s perfect, thank you,” she tears her eyes from the elk antlers presented on the wall, offering him a tense smile when she takes the cottony shirt from him; the material surprisingly soft between her fingertips. 

However, before he has the chance to leave the bedroom in order to give her some privacy, she timidly speaks up again, words clumsy and hurried. “Could you— um, could you help me undress? This corset is quite impossible to take off by myself…especially now that it’s wet.”  

“Uh, right, yeah,” he clears his throat, gesturing for her to turn around before he’s pulling her closer by a grip on her hips, the wooden floorboards creaking underneath their feet making up for the sudden silence.  

She doesn’t know why the gesture feels almost intimate or why it makes her hold her breath when he begins to unfasten the strings holding the corset top together, but a strange shade of suspense colors the air around them nonetheless. 

“A tight little thing, huh?” he rasps as his fingers deftly work on the satiny ribbons— a process that feels eternal while she tries not to pay any mind to the way her heart keeps thumping louder and louder by each passing second. 

When she finally feels the silky material loosening around her middle, she has to will her erratic breathing to slow down as he unhooks the rest of the dress— the fabric forming a pearly white puddle on the floor.  

Then, he’s wordlessly slipping his shirt over her head; the sleeves far too long and the hem fitting her more like a short nightgown.  

“Thanks,” she swallows before she’s gingerly turning around, lacking the courage of looking him in the eye for any longer than a glance.       

“Right, uh, we should get some sleep. You can take the bed ’n I’ll sleep on the floor, yeah?”  

And she’s already nodding before the words register in her disconcerted brain. “Wait, no, it’s your bed. I can sleep on the floor,” she argues immediately, momentarily forgetting why she was so shy in the first place when the weight of being an inconvenience builds up on her shoulders.   

“Nah, m’not gonna let a fuckin’ princess sleep on the floor. S’fine, jus’ take the bed, I don’t want it. Need to make sure we weren’t followed anyway,” he grumbles, attempting to leave the room once more.  

“Rafe, you need sleep just as much as I do. It’s the middle of the night, my stepmother doesn’t even know what you did yet. She’s expecting you to return tomorrow, right?” she tries to reason, not willing to give in because letting him sleep comfortably is the least she can do to even begin returning the favor.  

He lets out a weary sigh before shrugging off his jacket, far too worn out to argue. “Yeah, alright, guess you have a point.”   

- - - - - - - - - - - - -   

They end up sharing the bed.    

And once they’ve both settled into the opposite sides, she’s far too intimidated by Rafe’s disgruntled aura to utter out anything other than a whispered goodnight before it’s quiet once more.    

However, as the night stretches on, she begins to grow restless; tossing and turning on the creaky mattress and driving Rafe mad in the process.

She doesn’t mean to, the last thing she wants is to disturb his rest but her thoughts are racing and she can’t seem to close her eyes for more than a few seconds because truthfully, she feels terrible— everything familiar has been turned upside down in the span of a day and the only life she knows has practically ceased to exist. All she wants is to go home but that’s not an option anymore and it’s scary. 

“Hey, uh, you good?” Rafe’s sudden drawl makes her flinch.    

“Sorry, can’t sleep,” she peeps out, expression apologetic when she twists to face him, causing the sheets to rustle around them.    

“Yeah, me neither since you keep movin’ around like a lunatic,” he grumbles, irritation clear in his tone.   

“M’sorry. Just can’t stop thinking about everything and I just…I’ve never understood why she hates me so much,” she breathes out, features contorting into something heavy-hearted as she chews on her bottom lip. 

He blinks tiredly; movements lethargic when he runs a hand through his hair.   

“The queen? Well, in case you haven’t noticed, she’s, uh, not that alright in the head. M’sure you’ve done nothin’ wrong, okay?” he attempts to reassure her, albeit to no avail.   

“I just— just feel like...this is all my fault, you know? And now you’re in danger too because of me,” she rambles, not able to let the thought go.    

“You don’t need to worry ’bout me, princess. There’s enough people that want me dead already, what’s one more?” he lets out a dry chuckle that makes her frown.    

“What do you mean?”    

“Nothin’ just, uh, listen…the worst thing that’s gonna happen is that she’s gonna have me killed when I don’t return, ’n once she finds out you’re still alive, she’s gonna send her soldiers to bring her your—”   

“Rafe, that’s not helping. Why would say that?” she interrupts him and apparently, he finds her scowling face to be the most hilarious thing in the world because next thing she knows he’s laughing, sleepy features scrunching up as he shakes his head. 

It’s safe to say she does not understand his humor, whatsoever.    

“All m’sayin’ is that we’re gonna have to find someplace good to hide.”    

“We have to leave the kingdom?” she asks, worried.    

“Yeah, think so,” he says, sounding far too impassive for her liking.    

“But I can’t just leave, this is my home.”   

“I know, but s’gonna be okay,” he murmurs, mouth stretching around a yawn.   

“But what if— what if something happens?” she sounds panicked, all the worst-case scenarios bouncing around her skull because she’s never even been this far from the palace. How on earth is she meant to survive in the real world? 

“I’ll keep you safe, yeah? Now can you let me sleep?” he lets out a drowsy exhale, seemingly fed up with the conversation already.   

“But what if—”   

“Shh, c’mere,” he hushes her before he’s tucking her flush against his chest— a heavy palm resting on her thigh to keep her from moving because he’s exhausted and more than aware that tomorrow is going to be a long day, especially with this overthinking princess who he wishes would just shut up.   

It’s something he’d tell her outright if he wasn’t certain that she’d start crying all over again in response— the rest of the hike here with her sobs and hiccups thrumming in his ears more than enough for one day.   

And the sudden proximity seems to work because instantly, she stops shifting around; nearly stops breathing altogether when she swallows. “What are you…”   

“Just, uh, need you to calm down, yeah?” he pats at her hip before she’s clumsily humming out another apology.  

And despite the slight trace of the muddy water, her hair still smells of forest berries and wildflowers, making exasperation worm its way into his veins. He doesn’t understand why she’s trusting her life in his hands so thoughtlessly; it’s like she has no sense of self-preservation with the way she’s blindly following him anywhere, when not even a day ago he attempted to murder her.   

He wonders if she’s always been like this; naive and dumb, always seeing the good in people, even when there isn’t any. All it took was a few remotely sweet words and she’s already allowing him to hold her this close— a foolish deer resting peacefully next to a starving wolf and expecting not to get hurt.    

Momentarily, he gets the urge to just finish the job right now, wrap his arm around her throat until the flame burns out, leaving her eyes dull, lifeless. After all, it would make his life considerably easier. He can almost feel it— the moment her heart comes to a halt in her ribcage as she turns into nothing more than flesh and bones, freeing him from this burden.  

And at the end of the day, it’s part of his nature to kill for his own benefit, muscles nearly stinging with the self-serving temptation because that’s what he’s always been; selfish.    

“Rafe, that hurts,” her voice is small, nervous, nonetheless forcing him to resurface to the current; his rough fingertips mindlessly sinking into the bare surface of her thigh, harsh enough to leave a bruise. 

Her entire form is tense, breathing shallow and limbs unmoving, resembling a rabbit rigid with fear, only amplifying this ever-growing itch under his skin.  

He clears his throat.  

“Sorry,” a mutter through his teeth before she can finally feel the pressure dissipating— his thumb smoothing over the sore patch while he tries to decide what the fuck he should do with her.    

[seat-safety-switch]

Every time it snows, I see lots of people who are terrified to operate their cars. This is poppycock, and originates from the media trying to force fear into your brain so that you stay home for a few more minutes to watch the morning traffic report and, oh, just a coincidence that it comes with a ton more ads. Stay Afraid. Buy Oreos®.

Winter driving is all about momentum. You keep your car moving, perform only gentle adjustments, and pay attention. Above all, you must not make any abrupt movements. This will unsettle the car, and then you'll careen towards a ditch, bus stop, or ballet recital. Important: allow thing to happen slowly, without your direct involvement. Freaking out and starting to chop at the wheel because you didn't get a prompt response to your last gentle input is what a toddler would do, and that's why only certain states let them drive.

Think of yourself as being engaged in the proud Canadian sport known as curling. In it, someone throws a rock down an icy slope, and some other suckers pretend to do anything at all by rapidly sweeping their brooms in front of it. Those frozen janitors are not allowed to touch the rock, because doing so will cause it to fly out of control and kill someone. When driving, you want to be the person throwing the rock, not the person frantically sweeping for no reason before accidentally maiming a cameraman from the CBC.

Whenever it snows, the first thing I do is head to the local giant parking lot. There, I can safely practice losing and regaining control of my car in the snow, without worrying about smacking a pedestrian or highway abutment. Critically, it's here that I also figure out what new holes in the cabin are letting water in. This lets me stop, get out, and apply duct tape at my leisure, rather than stewing in reflected road juices for my entire commute to work. That last part may not apply to you: for instance, you might be rich enough to be able to put marine-grade caulk or even Bondo over the rust holes in your car's floor.

If there's only one thing I can leave you with, it's this: don't panic. Like I said, tensing up and jerking around the car is only going to make things worse for everyone else on the road. Instead, let things happen. Be chill. Make sure you've got enough gas and maybe a sandwich on hand. Take a break if you've been pushing through traffic for hours. And above all, do not put an album by The Prodigy into your stereo system and then rip through red lights, completely sideways, banging off the rev limiter as you engage in icy doughnut after doughnut, just because you bought studded winter tires and have a generalized contempt for society at large. My attorney thought adding that last part would help with negotiating the plea bargain.

[harryssyndrome]

Snow on the Beach | h.s

summery: the day Harry found the inspiration for his debut album.

Word count: 1.1k || Masterlist 🌊❄️🩵

Posted on: November 16th, 2024

A small cutesy one-shot with pre-hs1 era from my draft🤭 so many more are coming out soon! REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

The beach stretched out before Harry Styles, quiet and blanketed in snow. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this kind of stillness, this freedom. For years, his life had been a whirlwind of cities, stages, and sleepless nights. The demands of One Direction had consumed every moment, leaving little room for simple pleasures—like a walk on a winter beach.

But now, with the band on hiatus and the relentless pace of tours and interviews behind him, Harry had finally allowed himself to breathe. He had driven for hours, away from the chaos of the city, to find this hidden stretch of coastline. Snow on the beach was a rare sight, and something about it felt like poetry waiting to be written.

Clutching a cookie in one hand, Harry wandered along the shore, his boots crunching against the icy sand. He needed this—needed the quiet, the solitude, and maybe, just maybe, a spark of inspiration. His debut album was looming, the weight of it pressing on his chest. It was meant to set the tone for his solo career, the foundation for who he would become beyond the boy band. And yet, the words and melodies refused to come.

Harry trudged along the beach, his coat buttoned up tight, the cold biting at his cheeks. In his hand, he held a half-eaten cookie, savoring its sweetness as he gazed out at the frozen horizon.

He didn’t see the seagull coming.

With a flurry of wings and an indignant squawk, the bird swooped down, snatching the cookie right out of his hand. Harry jumped back with a startled yelp, the audacity of the bird leaving him wide-eyed and breathless.

“Oi!” he shouted, stepping back in surprise as the bird soared off with its prize. He stood there for a moment, wide-eyed and a little shaken, before a burst of laughter reached his ears.

Not far away, a girl sat on a rock, bundled in a scarf and hat. Her laughter rang out, light and melodic, the kind that warmed the coldest winter air. Harry turned to her, his initial indignation fading into something softer as he took her in. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her eyes sparkling with mirth, and he couldn’t help but feel a pull in his chest.

She tried to stifle it, raising a gloved hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she called out, her voice still tinged with amusement. “I know I shouldn’t laugh, but that was—” She broke off, laughing again.

Harry couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips. “Yeah, laugh it up,” he called back, brushing the crumbs off his hands. “Clearly, the seagulls here have impeccable taste.”

She tilted her head, feigning seriousness. “You think they prefer cookies to chips?”

“Apparently,” Harry said, walking toward her. “And they have no concept of personal boundaries.”

He reached the rock and hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside her. The cold surface seeped through his coat, but he didn’t mind. Up close, he noticed her cheeks were pink from the cold, her eyes bright and curious.

“I’m Harry,” he offered, holding out his hand.

“YN,” she replied, shaking it. Her gloves were thick, but her grip was firm.

“So, YN,” Harry began, tilting his head with a smirk. “Do you always make a habit of laughing at strangers, or was I just particularly entertaining today?”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “It’s not every day you see a man lose a cookie to a seagull. You’ve got to admit, it was kind of funny.”

Harry chuckled, leaning back on his hands. “I suppose it’s one of those ‘laugh so you don’t cry’ moments.”

For a while, they sat in companionable silence, the waves lapping softly against the shore. Harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, noting the way she seemed perfectly at ease, as if she belonged here.

“What brings you to a snowy beach?” she asked suddenly, her voice curious but gentle.

Harry hesitated, unsure how much to say. “I haven’t been to a beach like this in years,” he admitted. “Life’s been… busy. But now I’ve got some time off, and I figured I’d see what I’ve been missing.”

YN nodded, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying. “And? What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” he said simply, his gaze drifting to the horizon. “Kind of surreal, though. Snow on the beach—it’s not something you see every day.”

“No, it’s not,” she agreed, her voice soft. “It’s like the world is trying to remind us that even the unexpected can be beautiful.”

Her words struck a chord, and Harry found himself wondering if this moment, this chance encounter, was the kind of inspiration he’d been searching for.

“What about you?” he asked. “What brings you here?”

YN shrugged. “I come here when I need to think. Something about the snow and the sea—it clears my head.”

Harry nodded, understanding more than he could say.

They talked for hours, their conversation flowing effortlessly. They joked about seagulls, shared stories of places they’d been, and speculated on what kind of music snow would make if it could sing. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the beach in hues of gold and pink, Harry felt lighter, as if a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying had lifted.

As the first stars blinked into the evening sky, YN pulled out her phone, glancing at the time. “I should probably head back,” she said reluctantly, standing and brushing the snow from her coat.

Harry stood too, not quite ready to let the moment end. “Wait—let’s exchange numbers,” he said, pulling out his own phone. “You still owe me a cookie, remember?”

YN grinned. “I did say I’d consider it, didn’t I?” But she handed him her number anyway.

He typed it in, then held his phone up. “I’ll text you, just to make sure you didn’t give me a fake one.”

She laughed. “And I’ll respond, just to make sure you’re not a seagull in disguise.”

As they said their goodbyes, Harry felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the weather.

“Promise me we’ll see each other again?” he asked, his voice softer now.

YN smiled, her gaze steady. “I promise.”

And as she walked away, her figure disappearing into the snowy twilight, Harry knew this wasn’t the last time their paths would cross.

Sometimes, inspiration came from the most unexpected places. And sometimes, it came with a seagull, a stolen cookie, and a girl named YN.

[jintaka-hane]

[Kiss your blorbo at the New Year’s Eve event]

Asked by: @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @limitlesstildil @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth

KID

Summary: It's New Year's Eve and you're about to disembark from the Victoria Punk forever, but as midnight approaches, a certain redhead will make you reconsider. Word count: 1300 Warning: x gn!reader; some angst; fluff All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

A sigh leaves your lips in the form of vapor that lingers for a moment before dissipating into the cold air. You smile, looking ahead, your eyes fixed on the distant celebration and joy reigning on the island you are about to dock. There is so much happiness... It’s the last night of the year, and everyone wants to spend it celebrating with their loved ones.

Your eyes drift down to the bundles resting at your feet. Your whole life packed into those three suitcases. Not that there was much to pack, you think to yourself, you are used to moving from one place to another, anyway.

Resting your arms on the frozen railing of the Victoria Punk, you flex your numb fingers to restore circulation. Your cheeks, rosy from the icy air, soften with a hint of a bittersweet smile at what seems to be bonfires on the beach. The ship is still minutes away from docking, but you can almost smell the food roasting over the flames and hear the distant songs and laughter.

Another sigh escapes you, and your gaze shifts upward to the blanket of stars spread across the sky. It’s cloudy, but they shimmer brilliantly through the clouds, like scattered pearls floating in a deep, black sea.

Your time aboard the ship is nearly over.

You never planned to stay this long, but what was meant to be a one-week passage turned into a month, and that month, thanks to the unpredictable routes and whims of this eccentric, punk-rock crew, stretched into three.

At first, you thought the crew would be a challenge for you, like the tightly-knit group with little trust for outsiders they seemed to be. But in reality, they welcomed you with open arms sooner than you expected, making it clear that beneath the spiked hair, metal studs, and leather jackets hid a large, warm, and friendly family.

The captain, however, was a different story. From the start, he made it abundantly clear that you didn’t belong. The scowls, the tightly pressed lips, and the way he crossed his arms disapprovingly, glaring at every step you took across his deck, said it all.

But now his misery is about to end.

You are finally reaching your destination, and soon, you’ll be out of his sight for good.

Your eyes are still fixed on the sky when the sound of heavy boots thudding against the wooden deck reaches your ears. You know those steady, defiant steps by heart, and you’re surprised he’s bothered to show up to say goodbye.

“How much longer until we dock?” you ask, refusing to give him the satisfaction of turning around.

“Twenty minutes,” you hear him say.

“Good…”

You don’t say anything else. You don’t turn around either. He stays rooted in place behind you, just as silent. The only sounds are the music and chanting growing clearer as you approach the island. As a freezing breeze bites at your cheeks, you decide to speak again.

“At last, you’ll be rid of me, huh?”

“I… uh, yeah…” he mutters behind you.

Not even a basic farewell, you think, frowning as you force yourself not to care. You focus on what looks like a bunch of glowing kites soaring into the sky from the beach. But the way Kid just stands there behind you, frozen, begins to unnerve you. And what’s with that uneven breathing of his?

"I…" he starts but hesitates.

Your icy fingers tap impatiently on the railing, and with an exasperated huff, you spin around to face him.

His almost-frozen goggles keep his messy red hair in place, his oversized coat hangs loosely over his shoulders, and his painted lips curve downward into an unpleasant scowl.

Basically his usual look.

But there’s something… something in his posture you can’t quite figure out. A hint of vulnerability, perhaps? Whatever it is, he seems to be fighting it.

“Probably won’t see each other again,” you add, trying to sound casual.

His intense amber eyes lock onto yours, filled with the confusion of someone who wants to say something but doesn’t know how.

“Probably,” you barely hear him mutter with feigned nonchalance, yet a slight twitch in his face betrays him as his jaw tightens so much it looks like he might break his teeth. You shake your head, and all hope of having a cordial conversation with him leaves you.

He slowly moves to your side and rests both arms on the railing, and the two of you just stand there, staring at the beach party in the distance. There's still a few hundred meters to go, but you can already spot groups of kids setting off firecrackers and couples dancing joyfully to the rhythm of the music. As you watch another group preparing what looks like fireworks, you notice, out of the corner of your eye, Kid suddenly slouching and lowering his head in defeat.

“I CAN’T,” he gasps, finally breaking.

You immediately turn toward him, and your eyes widen in surprise at seeing such a man, his back hunched and trembling, his eyes shut tight, and his canines jutting out between his bared teeth.

"You can't what, Kid?" You raise your hand to place it on his back to calm him, but you leave it hanging in the air, too hesitant to touch him.

"LOSE YOU," he answers, burying his head further between his arms, tilting it to one side to hide his face from you. His metal hand clenches into a fist, and he slams it into the railing, sending splinters of wood flying through the air. "FUCK! Why do I always lose EVERYTHING?!”

You gasp, and your hands attempt to move to your mouth, but instead they go to his shoulders, grabbing and forcing him to look you in the face.

“Kid look at me! What are you saying?”

As his tightly shut eyes open, a stray, bitter tear slips down his cheek, smearing some of his eyeliner. But even in that state, he tries to look at you menacingly.

“Is it because I’m not strong enough for you? Is that it?”

Your round eyes dart between his, and you realize then what's happening. This grumpy, big guy, with his zero talent for feelings and words, is going to be your downfall. Without saying a word, you cup his chin with one trembling hand and, with the other, gently wipe the tear from his cheek. In the distance the countdown to midnight starts.

Ten! Nine! Eight!

'Kid, it’s not—'"

“Stay,” he says, locking his sharp, amber eyes with yours.

Seven! Six! Five!

“Kid…” you whisper again.

"Don't leave me," he says, lifting his hand to cover yours on his chin. "I'll get stronger. I've already beaten a Yonko, I'll beat the next ones I come across and make you proud... I'll defeat every Yonko we cross paths with... but don't leave me…”

Four! Three!

Your breath catches in your throat, and your hand slides softly from his stained cheek to the back of his neck.

“Stay…” he sighs, tilting his head and bringing his lips closer to yours.

Two! One!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

Your lips brush against each other for a sweet second before yielding, finally melting into a rough, possessive kiss. A kiss that puts an end to your insecurities, and allows Kid to say more than he could ever express with words.

His warm lips steal all the air from your lungs, and his flesh arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer. He keeps his other arm against his back, avoiding touching you with the frozen metal. You wrap your arms around his neck, and laugh softly into his kiss as the cheers and shouts of New Year's celebrations fill the air.

As the rattle of fireworks exploding in the sky hits your chests, their lights bathe in multiple colors the passionate couple you have finally become on the icy deck of the Victoria Punk.

.................................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

[running-with-kn1ves]

An Elven Winter

CW: None! Arranged marriage, very cozy very comfy, winter nights, grossly affectionate moments

Synopsis: You’re late for dinner with your brawny elf husband, again. Is he going to scold you this time, and live up to his name as a heartless elf?

A/N: Your favorite boy Cirdan is back! Here's the OG piece I wrote with him if anybody wants some more comfort and cuteness.

Snowflakes whipped from the left across your face, illuminated by dampened yellow street lanterns with an icy blue tinge to their miniscule edges. The cold stuck to your eyelashes, to the tip of your nose, to the bottoms of your trudging boots. 

When was the last time it snowed this hard? Not in years, certainly. Not since you began to share your home with another warm body, waiting to welcome you home away from the chills seeping into the openings of your sleeves. You could see your home only two doors down now, the front bathed by hanging porch lights, a trellis covered with dead vines propped against the dark, unlit corner of the cabin. Everyday he’d water that thing, and everyday it’d continue to shrivel under the coldening wind.

Your face creases with concern for what your spouse's reaction may be once you make it home. He might fawn over every trickle of water that was once snow on your shoulders, fraught by the coldness of your fingertips in his palms. It wasn’t his worry that was exhausting, it was the fear of making him feel anything other than glowing warmth, of adoration for you.

Your feet slid over one another racing to the front doors in a jog. Another wave of guilt washed over you for the tenth time tonight for being, what was it now-- an hour late to dinner? How your lovely, saint of a husband worked endlessly to make your homestead full of comfort and homeliness-- and yet you couldn’t make it in time for a meal he had spent endlessly curating. You would beat yourself over the head if you had a moment to spare.

But there was nothing you could do to turn back the time, to slide any quicker on the glassy, frozen ground. Tripping to race up to the door, you fumbled over stone steps in impatience.

The delicately carved door handle was just as cold as the tip of your nose was, hardly putting up a fight as you pulled it toward you. The door opened with a breeze of thick comfort blowing against exposed skin unveiled on your body. Warmth and the smell of a working oven flooded to the points of your cheeks, the door’s creaky nature betraying you as it let the other resident of the house know of your return home. 

This would be the part where you shout “Honey, I’m home!”

But you’re given no time, no time at all. A crackling fire fills your ears, the sudden appearance of a dastardly large silhouette clouding your vision of the kitchen table, plates upon plates decorating a tablecloth you knew so well.

“It’s nine.” His voice relented, the emotion detected and yet hard to describe as you look up to read his face. 

His cheeks are tinted a slight red, as if he had been outside in the cold, waiting for you. 

“It is; I’m sorry, Cirdan. I really thought I'd get here sooner, we were trying to wait out the snow. And, well.. That didn’t really do much.”

His eyes were full of thought, expression in their hardened lids and watery irises. Being late for things seemed to be your specialty. It broke your heart into desperate pieces when you saw the look on his face-- hardly concerned with the cold food, but locked on to you to see what had gone wrong, if you were hurt, what he could do to fix it all. 

“Don’t apologize. I’m just.. So glad you’re home.” He genuinely sounded relieved, a rough stutter you hadn’t heard in a long time, if not ever before. 

His body, so untraditional to what elves were expected to be, came forward to hold you just as gracefully as any normal, lean and tall version of the creature would. But he was all brawn-- a hard and heated rock that snug itself tight against you. A thick hand made its way into your hair to press the top of your head to his pointed nose. 

His taut inhale was shaky, white strands of hair much longer than your own crowding your view. 

“I was nearly about to go out there and find you myself. It’s no place for you to be, out there in the snow. Cold and alone.”

It sounded as if he had scared himself with anxiety-ridden thoughts about where you were in your tardiness. 

“I know.” You muffled against his chest, the wool of his sweater smelling like sweet potatoes and rosemary. 

If it were anyone else you’d be embarrassed to press your head deeper, to lean into the touch so clearly full of desire. But you knew no other way to make up for all that you had done. Your briefcase bag fell to the floor, crumpled and forgotten. 

The affection was so tender you nearly forgot about the sensation of frostbite clawing at your fingernails and the aching in your stomach. It resounded out in the room with an acidic gurgle, forcing your body to go rigid with a mix of exhaustion and embarrassment. 

You could feel the soundless laugh Cirdan let out through the shake in his body-- his warm, scarred arms your safe space. Even the apron two sizes too small on him smelled of sweets. It  hugged him enough for you to feel the ridges underneath his sweater. 

“Are you hungry?” He asked, gently releasing you from his stroking bear hug. 

“You have to ask?” You mumbled, still somewhat embarrassed by your show of weakness. You were supposed to be the strong one, carrying out the toughness of reality and endless meetings between the human and elven realm, while your unconventional elf husband finally had a chance in his brutality to rest, to be easy and let his heart and scars heal. But you were only human. 

“I kept it warm for you, wasn’t sure when you’d be back.”

 Your chest ached at those words.

You were tempted to let out another ‘you don’t have to do that’ or ‘you should’ve just left it in the fridge’, but it would only serve to dishearten him even more. 

“Thank you,” Was all you could half-heartedly murmur, looking up to stare at him. 

His hair fell sloppy along his face, snowy locks hiding his grey, blinded eye. He had started letting it show in privacy, when scrubbing the stove oven or reading in his colossal wine-red chair, black specs you called his ‘old man glasses’ falling off his nose. You pushed the heavy strands behind his pointed ear, letting your hand slide down the curve of his jaw. 

Cirdan merely smiled longingly, crinkling at his eyes and gazing at you as if you were all the stars in the sky held in front of him. He leaned just slightly into your touch, its coldness offering a stark contrast to his warm, honey skin. 

“Go, sit by the fire. I’ll bring your dinner.”

You were again ready to protest, but an intensely soft fleece blanket was draped over your head, covering from your forehead to your calves. It was originally made for your husband, twice any human’s size and still long enough to cover his shoulders. Cirdan had turned to the loveseat beside him to grab it, leaving you to buckle under the weight of swarms of fabric as he moved toward the kitchen. Blindly, you made your way to the orange glow in the middle of the room, bright flames caressing freshly chopped oak.

The corners of your home closest to the outside world had a chilled air of ice, but within the middle was where the heat resided, beckoning you to the fireplace onto a small elk hide rug. 

Cirdan’s footsteps upon the soft kitchen floor came toward you, steam rising from the plate held in his hands. He seemed so relaxed, shoulders drooped and yet posture enviously perfect, an effect of having an elven spine and ruthless upbringing. His loose sweater was soft on his carved shoulders, reminding you of your shared cozy bed-- of his body radiating glowy warmth against you, rustling sheets tangled as you push deeper against the crook of his neck.

But your stomach was too insatiable for anything other than food right now, even warmth. The herby, peppery scent brought drool to your mouth, looking at the elf with wide eyes in hungry desperation. 

“It’s hot, let it cool off for a second.” Cirdan blows on the mouth-watering food as he hands the plate to you with a potholder on its lip, protecting you from the heat. He is quick to grab a pillow and place it in your lap, gently letting the plate rest.  “I kind of went overboard; something in me felt like cooking tonight... We can give the leftovers to the neighbors.”

“No!” You shout territorily, covering your plate as if he were ready to steal it from you. “It's mine to eat, I mean.” 

You don’t leave room for the conversation to continue, shoveling a forkful of well-seasoned vegetables in your mouth. The moment a green bean touches your tongue you realize your mistake. 

“Haw, hawt!” 

Your open mouth does a dance as you try to fan the heat, so eager to eat that you forgot to heed his warning. 

“I told you!” Cirdan exclaims, a laugh escaping him as he reaches for a glass of water on the table behind him. “I guess my intuition knew you’d try something like that.”

You take the glass with unheeded swiftness, letting lukewarm water settle in your fiery mouth. 

A hesitant swallow leaves your tongue numb and your hunger yet to be filled.

You reach for another bite, this time for a heap of buttery mash potatoes, soft and fluffy like the piles of snow outside yet starkly contrasted in their steamy heat. 

You know better now, blowing on the fork before taking a hesitant, small bite. 

Cirdan merely gives you a watchful, entertained grin. He doesn’t have the pompous smirk of most elves you’ve met with, but instead a full, close-lipped smile that reaches to his sharp eyes, his uncharacteristically full cheeks rising, his face slim and etched like the rest of his kind yet with more ruggedness and expression in it, remnants of a jagged past etched into his skin. 

“I’th really good.” You cover your full mouth, singing his praises with potato and sweet, savory bread in between. 

“I’m glad you like it,” The comment he passes hardly utters any attention to what you say, instead busy watching you consume like a ravenous animal. Cirdan brushes back hair that falls close to your plate, stroking just gently a thumb over your cheek. 

You swallow a few more bites before you feel the ache in your stomach subside. The intense way the elf keeps looking at you is not unforeign, but you still have yet to be comfortable with it. 

“Thank you for the food,” You wipe your mouth with your sleeve, hoping you weren’t too many levels of disheveled. “but, I have another favor to ask.”

“Hm?”

You witness in his eyes the willingness, eagerness to see what you desire. 

“Let me brush your hair?” 

Cirdan’s lips part in an ‘o’, before returning to the usual gentle hardness of his face.

“That’s all? I thought you were ready for dessert.” 

The elf lets out a stifled laugh, deep and bouncing off the small cabin walls in pure delight.

You shoot a self-conscious gaze at him, lips half upturned in a hidden smile; you’re not sure whether to laugh or bashfully tell him nevermind.

“You know you don’t have to ask. I was waiting until you were done to clean myself up--” He turns to the side, opening a stool compartment stuffed with a myriad of little things from nail polish to old lighters. His gentle hands searched for a delicate hairbrush, elven in the intricacy of its design and dwarven in its robusticity. The curving vines against the brushes ivory skin along with its weighty hold made it a piece of craftsmanship worthy of generational pass-down. 

 He takes your plate fit for kings off of your lap, moving it to the floor closest to the fireplace. In this house, everytime you attempt to do something, it seems to be done at-hand immediately before you can think to move. 

Cirdan wordlessly hands you the brush, tender fire under his palm gliding over the icicles you called fingers.

You attempt to scoot behind him, blanket nearly falling from your shoulders to do so, but the elf catches you. 

“I’m not letting you freeze to death on my behalf first,” He grunts, grabbing your hands in a chokehold. “You're practically frozen my love.” 

The tendrils of his fingers wrapping over your own were akin to hot coils, oddly welcoming and conflicting to your body void of warm blood. 

“Your behalf? I’m the one who suggested the idea!” You shake your head in mild disbelief. “Besides, being near the fire is warming me up. I’ll be unfrozen soon.”

Your airy voice is sarcastic and not nearly as teeth-chattering as it once had been-- yet still, Cirdan huffed over your fingertips, letting out heavy breaths to warm the parts of you that were yet to be anything but icy. 

“You aren’t going to win this fight.” He looked up at you, a serious furrow of his brows, “I won’t lose you to such simplicities of frostbite, you’re too precious.”

Oof. Right in the heart. Everytime you see his resting brooding face like that your chest lurches in worry--- but then he’ll say something so sweet in sincerity that you want to collapse into a puddle.

You open and close your mouth like a gaping fish, unsure what to say to beat, or even match that. 

The elf deeply exhales once more against your trembling fingers, letting silence float between you with the sound of crackling flames flickering in between. 

With a final heavy breath against your knuckles, he straightens your fingers out, placing them over his heated cheeks. Even with the ridges of bone and scar on his face, he was squishy and pliant like a human. Your thumb brushed against the healed tissue leading from the bridge of his nose to his blinding eye, relishing in the slow blinks he gave. He looked… tired, and yet full of comforting bliss. You break the silence with an anxious swallow.

“I can't believe this.. you should be scolding me, making me eat cold leftovers in a dark room for being late, once again. Instead you're welcoming with open arms and a full stomach? I just don't get you; I don't know if I ever will.” 

You smile a little sadly, grateful and mystified.

“Maybe you won't understand it,” Cirdan moves his lips to your palm, nudging it with a kiss. “but it's what I'd want.”

You did understand that. All those nights he laid in the cold snow after throwing himself against battalions as a living shield, coming home to an even colder room, eating alone and wondering if anyone was thinking of him. If he meant anything more than a body to be used. He wouldn't let you feel that way, if he could help it.

You nuzzled so hard against his face it made you both scrunch up your noses. 

“Oh I just-- wish I could stick you in my pocket and never let you go-- never let you feel anything but warmth and softness and love again.”

Cirdan grinned, his expression practically basking in the adoration. 

“You don’t know how good it feels to hear you say that.” 

You kiss him rough, not caring if the temperature difference sparks you both, making your noses tingle with electricity and your lips buzz. With gentle encouragement your hands holding his face might lead elsewhere, but tonight you wanted to show him the chaste devotion, the love he deserved in any way you knew how. Cirdan was fervent with his kiss, though he still seemed concerned with your warmth as his hands searched blindly for the blanket slipping from your back. 

You roll your eyes, letting your lips fall away with a warm breath. You're quick to get back to what you want, the task at hand.

“We're getting off track-- will you let me brush your hair now? I promise I won't freeze you with my icicle fingers.”

You drum your fingers against the sides of his cheeks, watching as he reaches for the forgotten brush on the rug, slightly dazed. You leave the tepidness of his face to snatch it with playful ease, ushering him to turn around.

“All right, all right, my love,” He concedes with a sigh. “Whatever you desire.” 

You grasp the edges of his messy hair as he faces away from you, pulling out the slipping black elastic band to let the rest of it fall; It’s gently knotted at the tips, but the rest of it still holds a sleek shine created from fine, thick strands and patient washing. 

“It’s my turn to take care of you..” You mumble, holding a fistful of silvery white strands with a calm stroke of the brush. The rhythm lulls you into a peacefulness, listening to the flickers of fire in front of you, the gentle snowfall from outside your little world of warmth and coziness. The blanket falls to your elbows-- you don’t go to fix it, so enraptured with the task at hand. 

Cirdan begins to hum just the slightest, his eyes shut in a stoney, calm expression that you can see if you tip just slightly sideways. It was a solemnly elven tune, and yet it slowed your heart so simply that you felt a wash of nostalgia and ease run through you. 

You would trade anything to keep this December night going, to have the man in front of you, held in your arms forever. Cirdan’s warmth was inseparable from your own, your bodies impossibly close for comfort. 

[infamous-light]

You Belong to Me Ch. 10

Alcina Dimitrescu x F! Reader

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9

AO3: You Belong to Me

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu's obsession knows no bounds as she becomes increasingly possessive over you. Will you succumb to her dark embrace, or find a way to break free before it's too late?

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Yandere, possessive/obsessive behavior

The sharp bark of a dog jolted you awake, the sound cutting through the oppressive stillness of the forest like a blade. For a moment, you remained frozen, your breath caught in your throat. Then, faint voices began to reach your ears, their murmurs growing steadily closer.

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you pushed yourself up from the damp, mossy ground, crawling on trembling hands and knees toward the hollow tree's narrow opening. You peered outside, your heart pounding like a war drum. In the dim moonlight, faint figures moved between the trees, their outlines illuminated by the flickering glow of their torches. Squinting, you strained to count them. Too many. Far too many. They were spread out, meticulously sweeping through the forest.

“I saw her head this way earlier!” A man’s voice rang out, loud and certain, carrying through the trees.

Your heart slammed against your ribs, each beat louder than the last.

They were looking for you.

The realization clawed at your mind, icy and relentless. Had she sent them? Was this Lady Dimitrescu’s doing? The thought alone was terrifying, but as fear pooled in your chest, another possibility surfaced, far more chilling: if she had sent them, she might be out here too – searching for you herself.

Another bark – closer this time.

Your hiding place was no longer safe. If you stayed, they would find you; it was only a matter of when. You needed to move – fast and quietly. Gritting your teeth, you backed away from the opening, carefully gathering your belongings. Crouching low, you crawled out from the tree, the chill of the night brushing against your face. You slipped into the underbrush, moving as silently as possible, taking care with each step to avoid snapping branches or leaving tracks in the fresh snow.

You veered away from the direction the torches were coming from, navigating through the densest areas of the forest, hoping its thick cover would mask your escape. Snow began to fall again, blanketing your footsteps as you moved. Another bark echoed through the trees, sharper, nearer, and a cold dread settled over you – you didn’t have much time before the dog picked up your scent. Desperation clawed at you, urging you to move faster but you had to be careful not to make a sound that could give you away. You tread lightly, carefully maneuvering around brittle twigs and ducking beneath low-hanging branches. Whenever possible, you stepped along exposed roots to avoid leaving footprints in the snow.

In the distance, a small, rocky outcrop caught your eye – a cluster of jagged boulders encircled by a dense tangle of brambles and ivy. It wasn’t much, but it offered enough cover to hide if you could slip inside. Keeping low, you crept toward it, forcing your way through the thorny branches, wincing as it scratched across your cheek, but you pressed on. Finally, you wedged yourself into the narrow gap between the two rocks. Tucking your limbs tightly against your body, you held your breath, willing yourself to be as small and silent as a mouse.

You froze, breath hitching as the crunch of footsteps pressed closer. The dog barked again, its growl more focused, more certain now. You could almost picture it pulling its owner forward, paws scraping against the snow as it dragged them closer to your hidden spot.

A flicker of torchlight emerged through the brambles, and you stilled, watching as a villager stepped into view, gripping the torch firmly in his gloved hands. His breath misted in the frigid air; his face set with tension. He stopped abruptly, squinting into the darkness, and for one horrifying moment, his gaze seemed to settle directly on you.

“Nothing here.” He muttered, his voice low and gravelly.

The torchlight flickered unsteadily as he turned to regroup with the others, but the dog stayed rooted, its nose twitching with sharp, deliberate sniffs. The owner murmured something under his breath and gave the leash a firm tug, but the dog resisted and focused intently on your scent. Its muzzle dug into the snow, pawing furiously at the ground.

You pressed your body as close as possible to the rocks, the icy chill leeching deep into your bones.

“What is it?” The man asked the dog, his voice low as he moved back in your direction.

You held your breath, willing yourself to be invisible. He crouched low, his eyes scanning into the crevice. A heartbeat later, his eyes locked onto yours.

“I found her!” He bellowed as he turned to alert the others.

Panic surged through you, propelling you forward. You continued to force yourself through the narrow gap, leading out to the other side. Adrenaline rushed through you as you bolted out into the open, your feet barely touching the ground as you ran.

“Get her!” The man shouted.

You pushed yourself harder, lungs burning, eyes fixed ahead. The sound of the dog's paws crunching through the snow grew louder behind you, but you refused to slow down. Your legs screamed in protest, yet you willed them to move faster, ignoring the burning ache in your muscles.

Just as your foot struck on uneven ground, the earth beneath you suddenly gave way. You lurched forward, arms flailing in a frantic attempt to catch yourself, but it was too late. You plummeted down the steep edge of a ravine, rocks, and debris tearing at your skin as you fell. Pain shot through your limbs, but you barely registered it as you reached out wildly, fingers grazing the air, searching for anything that might stop your fall but there was nothing.

Finally, you came to a rough stop at the bottom, gasping for air. The pain in your legs was intense, a searing throb that pulsed through your joints, but you couldn’t afford to linger. You forced your head up, your vision clouded, and caught a flicker of light above – torchlight, swaying with each step. A man’s figure appeared; his silhouette was framed by the glow while the dog stood beside him.

You pushed yourself upright, gritting your teeth against the wave of dizziness that threatened to drag you back down. You couldn’t afford to stop – not now. The dog’s barking rang out through the ravine, and with no time to spare, you stumbled forward once more, legs unsteady but fueled by sheer determination.

The ravine seemed to stretch on forever, each step sinking into the thick, cold snow as your breath quickened. The landscape began to change, the trees thinning, and then, you finally stumbled into an open space. The ground here was softer, scattered with patches of green and yellow flowers that seemed to glow faintly under the glare of the moon. The air, oddly warm, wrapped around you, but you couldn’t focus on it. A wave of haziness washed over you, blurring your vision as the world swayed around you. The ground tilted beneath your feet, and your legs buckled, unable to hold you upright any longer.

Your knees hit the earth first and then the rest of your body followed, collapsing onto the soft grass below. You tried to blink, to clear the fog from your vision, but your body refused to respond. Just before you lost consciousness, a shadow flickered at the edge of your vision. Their silhouette sharpened against the glow of the lantern they held and then the darkness swallowed you whole.

***

You slowly stirred awake; your head weighed down by disorientation. However, awareness began to seep in a few moments later. The first thing you registered was the soft creak of the couch beneath you – comforting, yet unfamiliar. With some effort, you eased yourself into a sitting position, your gaze sweeping over your surroundings. It appeared to be a living room.

The warmth in the air was soothing, the kind that wrapped around you like a gentle, comforting blanket. Faded paintings, their edges softened by age, adorned the walls, and the air was thick with a mix of dust and a faintly sweet fragrance, reminiscent of dried flowers. It was peaceful here, yet a subtle unease began to coil at the base of your spine, almost imperceptible, but unmistakable. Something about this place, though inviting, caused a massive amount of discomfort to build deep inside of you.

You frowned as your gaze landed on a feminine-looking doll. She sat perched on a shelf; her porcelain face marred by cracks that twisted her features into an unsettling half-smile. Her dark eyes, unnervingly still, seemed to follow you – too aware, too watchful. Then, as if defying all logic, she moved – her head turning slowly to face you.

“Awake at last.” The doll crooned, her voice surprisingly clear, yet laced with a childlike, taunting edge.

Your heart leaped into your throat, the blood in your veins turning to ice as your mind raced to comprehend the impossible scene before you. No, no, no, you thought, shaking your head in disbelief. This isn’t possible. Panic flooded through you, and you tried to rise from the couch, but your limbs felt like lead. You gripped the edge of the cushions, desperately trying to steady yourself, but your body betrayed you, forcing you back into a slumped position, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

The doll’s laugh rang throughout the living room, high and eerie, sending an involuntary shiver creeping down your spine.

“You should see the look on your face!” She exclaimed, delighting in your terror.

Before you could freak out any further, a new, darker presence filled the room. A woman draped in black appeared, her features obscured by a veil. For reasons you couldn't explain, the silence that accompanied her felt oppressively heavy. Without a word, she glided into the living room, and a cold, chilling realization dawned on you just then – this had to be Lady Beneviento. The interior of the house was far more opulent than anything you'd seen in your home village. Plus, the stories whispered about her being a reclusive figure, always hidden behind a veil, never speaking a word. It made sense.

A long pause followed before the doll abruptly straightened, her movements quick and jittery.

“I know you’re wondering how you ended up here,” the doll’s gaze remained fixed on you, those dark eyes never blinking, never shifting. “Our gardener found you unconscious and we had him bring you to us,” then, leaning in closer, a wide grin spread across her face. “We know you’re the one the big lady is looking for.” Her voice took on a singsong quality.

Your lips parted, eyes widening in shock. Before you could question how the doll knew, she cut you off.

“She called us a few hours ago – what a surprise that was. You must be really special if Lady Dimitrescu is willing to go to such lengths for a pet.” The final word was spat out with venom, clearly intended to degrade you.

The doll tilted her head with a soft creak, the grin on her painted face almost stretching wider, as though it might split her porcelain face in two.

“Oh, and guess what?” she cooed, her sickly-sweet voice dripping with mockery. “The big lady is already on her way here. I sent our gardener to go fetch her. She’s been out there looking for you,” she giggled, a high-pitched, grating sound that made your skin crawl. “She’ll be so pleased to see you.” Leaning in again, her unblinking glassy eyes seemed to pierce right through you. “Or maybe not. That depends on how much trouble you’ve caused her, doesn’t it?”

You swallowed hard, your pulse spiking in fear.

“She’s coming?” You whispered, your mouth dry as dust.

The doll laughed again, sharp and unsettling, like shards of glass scraping together. “Oh yes!”

Lady Beneviento remained motionless, but you could feel her gaze on you. The thought of returning to Lady Dimitrescu washed over you like a cold wave of panic.

“No…” You murmured, the word trembling from your lips, barely more than a breath.

You tried to rise from the couch, but your legs buckled beneath you, sending you crashing to the floor. The lingering effects of whatever had been forced into you in that garden still clouded your senses, leaving you weak and dizzy.

“No, I can’t go back to her... I can’t!” You yelled, your breath coming in frantic, shallow bursts. The fear of what she might do to you, what she would do, twisted in your stomach, nearly suffocating you.

The doll let out a cackle. “You’re so silly!”

Lady Beneviento suddenly appeared in your line of sight, bending down to slip her hands beneath your arms. Her touch, unexpectedly gentle, steadied you as she carefully lifted you off the floor and placed you back onto the couch.

“Stay.” Her voice was low and husky, like it hadn’t been used in some time. Yet, it still carried a commanding weight.

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat at the unexpected sound of her voice.

Just as the silence settled, a sharp knock echoed throughout the living room, startling you. Lady Beneviento’s posture stiffened for just a moment, her head snapping toward the door. Wordlessly, she rose and walked toward it. When she opened it, you caught a fleeting glimpse of who you assumed was her gardener – a tall, older man, his face etched with years of labor. He muttered something, but the words were lost to you from where you lay. Lady Beneviento gave a subtle nod in response, her demeanor as stoic and detached as ever.

This time, you definitely heard what the gardener said as his voice lifted just slightly. “She’s in here.”

The instant those words hit your ears; a wave of pure dread shot through your body. Your heart thundered in your chest; each beat fueled by terror. Then, as if summoned by your fear, a long, white fur coat swept into view. You couldn’t believe it. She was actually here.

It wasn’t fair. You had barely escaped Lady Dimitrescu’s grasp, and now, somehow, you found yourself back in her clutches once more.

Tears stung your eyes as you instinctively shrank back, the reality of your situation sinking in. You pressed your lips together, trying to hold back the wave of emotion threatening to break free. You were going back. Back to the castle, to the nightmare you had desperately hoped to leave behind. Lady Dimitrescu ducked under the doorway, then rose to her full, imposing height.

And in that moment, her golden eyes zeroed in on you.

The gaze she fixed upon you was laced with fury, a simmering anger that seethed beneath the surface – but there was more, something deeper, a quiet, unmistakable disappointment. She closed the distance between you in long, purposeful strides, her presence growing until she towered over you.

“You truly thought you could leave me?” Her voice was deceptively calm, though the edge in her words sliced deep. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find you, pet?”

You tried to muster something to say – an excuse, a plea – but no words came.

Lady Beneviento lingered in the background, silent and unmoving. You stole a glance at her, and for reasons you couldn't quite grasp, you found yourself hoping for some sort of intervention. But she merely watched, as if she were observing the unfolding scene with the detached calm of someone waiting for an inevitable storm to pass.

Lady Dimitrescu crouched slightly, her long, sharp nails grazing your chin as she guided your face to meet her penetrating gaze. Her eyes narrowed as they locked onto the small cut marring your cheek. A flicker of something dark passed through them, an intensity so fierce it threatened to steal your breath.

“You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice low and rich, vibrating with menace. “And I don’t take kindly to losing what’s mine.”

The tears you had fought so hard to suppress finally slipped free, and she smirked, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Then, Lady Dimitrescu's strong arms encircled you, lifting you effortlessly as though you weighed nothing at all. You let out a small squeak, struggling weakly against her hold, but it was no use. She cradled you in her arms like a helpless child, your body pressed against hers in a way that was both unnervingly intimate and suffocating. The scent of her – lavender mingling with some sweet orange – clung to you and your stomach churned in protest.

“No... please.” You whimpered.

“Be quiet.” Lady Dimitrescu hissed, her words sharp and cold.

Her grip tightened, her long fingers digging into your back, as though she feared you might vanish again if she loosened her hold even slightly. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor echoed in the tense silence as she turned toward Lady Beneviento, inclining her head in a rare gesture of respect.

“Thank you, Donna. As always, your assistance is greatly appreciated.”

Lady Beneviento didn’t respond but the doll piped up. “You’re welcome!”

Lady Dimitrescu gave a brief nod to the gardener, who stood rigidly by the doorway, his gaze fixed on her with unease. Without sparing him another glance, she turned and ducked through the doorway, her grip on you unwavering as she held you close in her arms.

The cold night air hit your skin as she stepped outside, and you shuddered involuntarily.

“You had me worried sick,” Lady Dimitrescu's voice came, low and tight with frustration, yet tinged with something else, something softer. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you. You’re far too important to me for that.”

Her concern left you disoriented. You had never imagined she was capable of such worry – not for you, at least.

“I –” You started, your voice cracking, but she silenced you with a glare that left no room for argument.

“Don’t,” Lady Dimitrescu interrupted, her tone icy but no longer furious. “You’ve already said enough by running.”

Her hold on you tightened even more.

“I’ll deal with you properly once we return,” Lady Dimitrescu stated flatly. “For now, you will remain silent.”

As she carried you through the forest, you couldn’t help but feel like a prize being returned to its pedestal, trapped once more in the gilded cage you had once fought so desperately to escape from.

[elsa-fogen]

hello lobotomy au - special delivery! PAIN.

it's even more depressing than i expected... shit. it makes ME sad. which, usually, doesn't happen.

this au is really fucking depressing.

"i'm not gonna post about this au any time soon" - she said and immediatelly posted something

okay, so, how this "surgery" affected the Trix

Stormy's now absolutely passive. she doesn't do anything on her own, doesn't talk, doesn't react. she's basically like a ragdoll - except the times when she's not. she has only two conditions now, 1 where you can do anything with her, 2 where you can't move her even with a fucking tank. nothing in between. What is going on in her hed tho is a complete mystery.

Darcy's doing little bit better. just a little bit. she still can talk, can do many things. she just doesn't. she's absolutely apathetic, and without guidence she can just… starve to death, lying on the floor near the full fridge, just because she can't make herself get up and do anything (I wanted to give her memory issues - that she can't make any new memories and wakes up thinking that the last battle with the winx was just yesterday, but i was told that lobotomy doesn't cause memory issues). she also almost doesn't feel any emotions. The only thing she feels - is rage towards people who did this to them, when she sees Icy crying. speaking of her…

Icy is lucky (or unlucky) to be the most functional one of the three. she can still walk, talk and react almost normally to her surroundings. she just has really hard time thinking anout literally anything. it's like her iq dropped from 180 to 40-50, idk. so, yeah, no plans for world domination in this condition can be made. she even has hard time planning her day. And, also, she now can't control her magic at all - anything she touches will be frozen, so she has to wear artifacts that don't let her use magic at all. But not only her magic is out of control, her emotions are as well. In my aus Icy usually doesn't cry at all. In this one tho... in this one she will cry for all her alternative versions, yeah. And, as a bonus, occasional epileptic seizures.

And the worst thing is - she DOES realise how much she changed, notices that things she used to do without thinking at all now are taking her way to long to do. And she sees how her sisters changed as well. And she hates herself, she hates the winx, she hates the light rock for doing this to them. But she can't just end her sufferings, although she was thinking about it, her sisters will not survive without her. so she keeps living. for them.

she found a way, she spends her evenings trying to live through the next day and making a plan in her notebook, she sets alarm clock for every step, she sends million delayed reminders to herself. she goes to bed very late, but at least her next day will be a little bit easier.

But... their life has another catch. Obviously, none of them can work, not with such conditions. Icy tried, but got fired in less than an hour. But they are getting only one pension - for Stormy. Why is that? Because Icy and Darcy have huge family savings. But they can't get to them - it's now too difficult of a task to do. Icy can't plan the whole thing through, something will go wrong and she will be lost. And Darcy can't even leave the house before losing last bit of motivtion. Even if she left, she would stop in the proccess without someone who'd tell her to continue. And they can't go together, not without Stormy. And with her it becomes much more complicated. Hell, they can just lose her somewhere. And so they have to just survive with what they got.

The Trix don't have anyone, except for themselves. Who will take care of Darcy and Stormy if something happens? Icy always would answer: I will. But who will take care about you, if something happens to you? Darcy and Stormy will, isn't it obvious?

she never thought, that something can happen to all of them at once.

[katyawriteswhump]

sleigh bells ring, I'm not listening! (steddie holiday drabble/bingo/whumpcember)

For @steddieholidaydrabbles day 5 prompt, Winter Sports; my first @steddiebingo fill, ‘Dustin Henderson,’ and @whumpcember day 21 prompt, ‘bruises.’ (It was originally day 5 prompt, concussion, but I ended up sparing the boys that for once!)

WC: 977; Rating T; CW: None; Tags: established steddie, mild whump hurt/comfort, fluff.  Maths terms provided by my partner. I have no idea what they mean and have doubtless misused them.

Summary: Steve loves all sports. Apart from winter sports. So, when he’s literally dragged from bed to go sledding with Dustin and Eddie, he’s surprised when it turns out rather magical…

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

“Remind me why I agreed to this?” Steve trailed a sled along the snowy track. He glared hotly at Dustin, then pleadingly at Eddie, who trudged on his other side. “It’s too cold for anything other than fucking… sleep.”

Eddie smirked. He didn’t look as miserable as Steve, which was annoying. Dustin, meanwhile, was having none of it:

“Dudes! This is your once-in-a-lifetime embarkation on a voyage of mathematical curiosity. Today, we’re exploring chaos theory! Mandelbrot bifurcations! Feigenbaum constants! You’re never gonna paddle those icy waters alone.”

“You wanna stick a pin in that balloon-head?” Steve asked Eddie, “or should I?” 

Eddie laughed then sneezed dramatically. Steve stopped dead. “You know what? I love sports. Apart from winter sports. Skiing. Luge. Skating. All that shit. Hate it.”

“You worship at the altar of ice-hockey,” pointed out Eddie. 

“Whose side are you on?” Steve nearly yelled: I’m not being dragged into this by a pair of sport-hating geeks! Instead, he mumbled, pathetically, “Wanna go home.”

By now, they’d reached Hawkins’ top sledding slope. A smattering of kids zoomed down the super-compacted ice. Eddie regarded the scene with a misty smile, which shocked Steve out of his grouchiness.

“I’m in, Henderson.” Eddie’s smile evolved into a full-on-adorable, dimpled grin. “I got great memories of this spot—me, mom, and a big-ass tea-tray. Who needs a goddamn sled?”

“We do.” Dustin whipped out a stopwatch. “We’ve a shitload of interesting variables at play here. Let’s go.”

‘Science’ commenced. Dustin sledded first, then Steve, who gritted his teeth and endured. Eddie went last, screaming his way down the slope… 

“…like a little girl,” said Dustin to Steve, super-earnest. “A little girl who’s in need of hugs, Steve.”

“Bullshit on so many levels.” Steve pointed to a nearby grade-school sledder. “She isn’t screaming. And my boyfriend’s scream is totally metal.”

“Okay. Just, y’know…” Dustin mumbled behind his hand, as Eddie approached with the sled. “He needs more hugs.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. Huh?

After several more runs, Dustin leafed through his notebook. “Interesting data. Now, both of you—on the sled.”

Steve planted frozen fists on his hips: “No way. Not big enough.”

“It’s fine,” said Eddie. “Totally bigger than mom’s tea-tray.”

Steve silently surrendered yet again. Eddie treasured memories of his mom, who passed when he was young. This clearly meant a lot to him, as well as Dustin, so Steve took pole position to steer—as much as anyone could with a dumb rope. Eddie perched behind, wrapping his arms around Steve, notching his chin on Steve’s shoulder. It was super-cosy, and… yeah, super-nice. They didn’t usually get this close in public, plus they’d avoided showing affection in front of their friends lately because—

“Ready?” yelled Dustin.

Steve’s nerves jangled. Eddie yelled: “Hell, yeah! Steddin’ with the Devil!”

“3, 2, 1, GO!”

Heel-power propelled them off. Wind whooshed through Steve’s hair, while Eddie unleashed his most deafeningly ‘metal’ scream yet. It was a bumpy ride, but mega-fun. Steve found himself grinning madly, though fearing for his hearing, and then:

“Shiiiiit!” He spotted the rock way too late. On impact, the world flipped, and he was thrown from the sled, landing heavily on his side. He suppressed a whimper, because something else mattered way more:

“Eddie?”

His heart lurched to his throat, pounding madly even after he spotted Eddie lying in the snow. Steve scrambled up, limped gingerly over: “You okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

Steve nodded.

Eddie finished his snow-angel and sat up, shaking his hair like a wet dog: “Mom said it ain’t sledding till you crash.”

 “All good, gentlemen?” panted Dustin, skidding to join them.

“Apparently.” Steve dumped his bruised butt down next to Eddie.

“Great,” said Dustin. “Why aren’t you hugging?”

 “Uuuuuuh, should we be?”

“Yes!” shouted Dustin, and it all blurted out. Apparently, ‘science’ had a secondary agenda.  “You used to be all lovey-dovey smoochy! Lately, you’ve hardly touched. I figured if I got you squished on a sled, adrenaline rushing, old magic might rekindle?”

Steve merely gawked at Dustin, whose recent weirdness began to make sense. Eddie, meanwhile, threw his arms around Steve’s neck and spoke between bursts of crazy laughter: 

“The issue here, Dustin Henderson, is lack of Party communication. We stopped touching, because Max said we made her wanna hurl. Mike complained it was creepy! We’re still in love! I mean, when you thumped on our door today, we were totally fu… cuddling.” 

“Oh,” said Dustin, visibly brightening. Eddie resumed cackling into Steve’s shoulder. Steve took his cue to fling both arms around Eddie and burrow close for warmth.

Once back home, they got dry and toasty, gently kissing each other’s more visible bruises. Eventually Eddie, stretched out on the bed, noticed Steve’s slight limp. “You got another bruise to show me, Baby?”

Steve tugged down his pants, revealing a mottled rainbow-spectrum of colors spreading up his thigh and ass-cheek to his hip. He coyly arched a brow. “Honest to God, today was a blast and totally worth it… but, yeah, that spot requires serious kissing better.”

“Looks too sore even for kisses.” Eddie flung open his arms. “I’m sorry?”

“Don’t you dare be. It was my shitty steering.”

“C’mere. Right now.”

Steve obeyed, rolling back into the enthusiastic lovemaking that science and goddamn Henderson had interrupted. He bitched about his bruise, but only slightly—especially as Eddie lavished extra care on nearby areas, with lips and tongue, to distract him.

“Sledding again tomorrow?” suggested Eddie, much later, while they snuggled inside watching fresh snow falling.

“You are joking, right?”

“Don’t worry, Stevie. Your ass is safe… though maybe not from me.”

Eddie’s answer segued into a sweet, lingering kiss, which Steve returned enthusiastically. He’d learned important shit today about his two favorite people. Eddie loved sledding. And Dustin loved his friends loving each other. Steve still blindsided himself, breaking the kiss to whisper:

“Maybe more sledding next week?”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

tags: @wheneverfeasible 💚 My stranger things fic on AO3

[parkitrighthere]

⛈️🤒❤️‍🩹😚 + Jimin pretty please

TITLE: Almost Romantic

PAIRING: jimin x reader

GENRE: rom-com, slice of life(?), Slow burn, Drama

WORD COUNT: 6k

TRIGGER WARNING: none (this is the first time i'm writing something with no trigger warning! hehe)

SUMMARY: After an awkward car ride in the rain, you end up at Park Jimin's fancy place, sneezing and fighting off both a cold and your long-time crush on him.

a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv. The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

a/n: Hey Anon! First off, let me apologize for taking forever to get back to you. I mean, wow, it took me so long you'd think I was trying to cure world hunger or something. Honestly, I have no idea what I ended up doing, and after all this time, I can only hope it's halfway decent. If you like it, please tell me so I can stop questioning all my life choices. And thank you for sending a Jimin request because OMG, I am dangerously obsessed with this man. Seriously. Anyway, hope you enjoy it. Luv ya!

The rain hammered down in relentless sheets, drumming against the tin roof of the bus stop above you. The cold air howled through the deserted street, wrapping itself around you like an unwelcome guest. The flickering streetlight cast a pale, ghostly glow, its harsh light accentuating the emptiness around you. You hugged yourself tightly, your arms gripping your sides as if you could hold yourself together.

You shivered, your breath coming out in quick, visible puffs. The dampness seeped through your clothes, clinging to your skin and chilling you to the bone. Drops of water slid down your face, some from the rain, others threatening to spill from your eyes. You blinked them away furiously, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking down. Mina had warned you about staying late at the office, but as always, you thought you knew better. Now you stood here, stranded and freezing, your phone a useless piece of metal in your bag.

A gust of wind tore through the street, whipping your hair into your face and dragging the rain sideways. You turned your head away, teeth chattering. The cold felt like it was pressing in, squeezing the air from your lungs. You couldn’t even hear your own shaky breathing over the roar of the storm.

The faint glow of headlights pierced through the rain, growing brighter as the car approached. Your heart surged with a flicker of hope, and you stumbled forward, arm jerking up to wave frantically. “Please,” you whispered, though your voice was swallowed by the storm. “Please stop.”

The car’s tires splashed through a puddle, sending icy water spraying onto your shoes. Its headlights illuminated you for a split second before sweeping past, leaving you in the dark once more. You stood frozen, your arm still raised as you stared after the fading taillights.

Your chest tightened, and you swallowed hard, trying to choke back the lump rising in your throat. Your hand dropped slowly to your side, trembling as you clenched it into a fist. The ache in your chest grew heavier, a suffocating weight that pressed against your ribs. A tear slipped free, quickly hidden by the rain streaking down your face. You swiped at your cheeks angrily.

The wind howled again, and you crumpled onto the cold bench behind you, wrapping your arms around you, tightly. Your nails dug into your damp sleeves as your shoulders began to shake. You couldn’t cry—what good would it do? No one was coming. No one ever did. The darkness pressed in closer, whispering that you were alone, as you rocked yourself gently.

Your heart jolted as you caught sight of the same car stopped just a few feet away. Its brake lights glowed faintly in the rain before it suddenly began reversing. The tires splashed through puddles, the sound sharp against the muffled roar of the storm. Before you could process what was happening, the car screeched to a halt right in front of you.

Were you happy? No.

Relieved? Not even close.

Scared? Absolutely.

Your legs locked in place as you stared at the car, your mind racing. Why would someone stop now after ignoring you the first time? The question sent a shiver down your spine. The pounding rain felt distant compared to the thunderous beating of your heart. Every nerve screamed at you to run, but your feet refused to move. You tried to steady your breathing, silently chanting, Stay calm, stay calm, but your chest tightened like a coiled spring, ready to snap.

The car door opposite you creaked open, the noise slicing through the storm like a warning bell. Your body tensed, muscles coiling as if preparing to bolt. But just as quickly, the door slammed shut again. What? Your brows furrowed, and for a fleeting moment, confusion overpowered fear. Is this person okay? Or are they just messing with me?

The passenger window began to lower, gliding down with a soft whoosh. Your breath hitched as a familiar face emerged, half-shrouded in the shadows of the car's interior. Park Jimin. Your boss. Your obnoxiously attractive, arrogant, self-absorbed boss. Relief washed over you like a bucket of icy water, though it was short-lived.

“Get in,” he commanded, his voice low and clipped as he motioned impatiently with his hand. You hesitated, frozen under his sharp gaze, but another gust of wind pushed you forward, your feet dragging against the puddled pavement. The rain soaked you even more as you opened the car door and slid in, trembling from the cold. The interior smelled faintly of leather and expensive cologne, but any sense of comfort was destroyed by his sharp voice cutting through the space.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? What the hell are you doing here at this time of night? And why were you walking so damn slow?”

Your head snapped toward him, your eyes narrowing despite the exhaustion clawing at you. Of course, his first instinct wasn’t to ask if you were okay but to criticize. You forced a tight-lipped smile, your fingers curling into the damp fabric of your skirt.

“Yes, Mr. Park. I’m perfectly fine,” you bit out, the words dripping with sarcasm you tried to mask behind a strained politeness. Your fake smile wavered as you glanced at him, silently debating whether strangling him would be worth losing your ride home.

Jimin scoffed, shaking his head slightly, as though reading your thoughts. His eyes trailed over your face, lingering for a moment before they dropped lower. You noticed the shift in his expression too late. His gaze flicked to your collarbone, then downward. His eyes widened briefly before he snapped his head forward, clearing his throat with a harsh sound.

Confused, you frowned and followed his gaze. Your stomach sank as your eyes landed on the problem. Your white blouse, drenched from the rain, clung to your body like a second skin, and the bright red lace of your bra was clearly visible underneath.

A gasp escaped your lips as your arms flew up instinctively to cover your chest. “Oh my god,” you muttered, turning your body away from him, your face heating despite the cold. You shot him a glare over your shoulder, clutching your arms tightly around yourself.

Jimin rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze entirely. He shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose as he shrugged off his blazer. Without a word, he leaned over and held it out to you. You snatched it from his hand, your lips twisting into a scowl.

“You could’ve stopped the car near me,” you muttered under your breath, slipping the warm fabric over your shoulders. The faint scent of his cologne clung to it. So... manly.

His head snapped toward you, brows furrowed. “So, it’s my fault now?”

“Duh!” you shot back, pulling the blazer tighter around yourself as if it could shield you from his attitude.

“And what about the fact that you were walking so maddeningly slow? Like you were planning to camp out there all night?”

Your jaw clenched, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “Shut up,” you hissed, your voice low but dripping with frustration.

Jimin’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parting in mock disbelief. “Did you just—”

“Yes, yes, yes! I just told you to shut uuuupppp!” you yelled, throwing your hands in the air. Your voice echoed sharply inside the car, silencing him completely. The weight of your outburst hit you like a tidal wave, embarrassment creeping up your neck. You turned your face away, heat flooding your cheeks. Great. Now I look like a lunatic.

He stared at you, stunned, his lips slightly parted as though he couldn’t quite process what had just happened. His wide eyes and slack jaw only made you angrier. You could practically feel his judgment radiating off him, and it made you want to crawl under a rock—or strangle him slowly and thoroughly.

“Stop staring and start the damn car,” you snapped, your voice cracking slightly.

His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he blinked, shaking his head. His cheeks flushed a soft pink, and he hurriedly looked away, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Fine,” he muttered, starting the engine with a low rumble.

The car began to move, the rain now a blurred sheet outside the windows. Silence settled between you, heavy and awkward, broken only by the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers. You sank back into the seat, pressing your hand to your forehead as a dull ache throbbed at your temples. A cold shiver raced down your spine, and you took a shaky breath, hoping it would settle your nerves.

“How long, Mr. Park?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the fight in you momentarily drained.

“Not far,” he replied, glancing at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “My house is just a few blocks away. We’ll be there soon.”

Your heart stopped. You sat up straighter, your hands clutching the blazer tightly. “What the hell do you mean, your house?”

He spared you another glance, his brows knitting together in mild confusion. “I’m taking you home,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

“Whose home?” you nearly screeched, pulling the blazer tighter around you as though it could somehow protect you from this insanity.

“Mine,” he said simply, his eyes darting back to the road.

"Home. Your home," you repeated, your tone sharp as you gestured toward him. "I wanted to go to my home."

Jimin’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw ticking in irritation. “I didn’t know the address,” he said flatly, avoiding your gaze.

“You could’ve just asked!”

“I wanted to, but you yelled at me to shut up.”

“And so your brilliant solution was to bring me here?” you retorted, throwing your hands up in disbelief.

His eyes snapped to yours, narrowing as he pulled the car to a jerky stop. “Excuse me? I live here. What the hell do you mean by here?” he asked, his voice low and offended, his brows drawing together.

You glared at him, your lips curling into a bitter scowl. “Then why have you stopped in the middle of nowhere?”

Jimin’s lips parted, a humourless laugh escaping him as he ran a hand through his damp hair. “I think you’ve been out in the rain too long. Maybe some water leaked into your brain because it’s clearly not working. We are not in the middle of nowhere, you deranged woman.”

Before you could retort, he pushed his door open with a sharp motion and stepped out, slamming it shut behind him. You stared after him in disbelief, his broad back retreating into the rain. Grumbling under your breath, you wrestled with your seatbelt, finally kicking the door open and following him.

The rain hit you like icy needles, soaking through your clothes as you stumbled out of the car. The moment you stepped onto the pavement, you froze, your jaw slack. In front of you stood a towering, modern building, its glass facade gleaming despite the downpour. “Wow,” you muttered under your breath, momentarily forgetting your anger. But then you caught sight of Jimin’s retreating figure, and you cursed under your breath, hiking up your heels to chase after him.

“Of course, you’d leave me behind,” you muttered as your heels clicked against the wet pavement.

Jimin turned his head slightly, flashing you a grin that made you want to slap it off his face. “Oh, you’re here! I thought you’d decided to spend the night in the car,” he teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You narrowed your eyes at him, shivering as you wrapped his blazer tighter around yourself. “Do you have a knife at home?” you asked, your tone casual as you both inside the elevator.

He paused mid-step, his shoulders stiffening slightly. “Yeah… why?”

“Just so I know where to find one,” you replied, tilting your head innocently. “For when you start talking too much rubbish.”

Jimin turned to face you fully, his brows lifting as his mouth parted in shock. For a brief moment, he looked genuinely alarmed. Then, as you burst into laughter at his expression, he sighed in relief, shaking his head.

“You think you’re funny?” he asked, his voice low as he stepped closer to you, his eyes narrowing slightly.

You smirked, lifting your chin. “I think I’m adorable.”

His lips twitched into a smirk of his own as he leaned in, his face now dangerously close to yours. You wanted to step back, but the cold glass of the elevator doors pressed against your back, trapping you. His dark eyes glinted with amusement as he opened his mouth to respond—

And then you sneezed.

Hard.

Right into his face.

The moment froze, your eyes widening in horror as he flinched, wiping at his face with his sleeve. “What the actual hell?!” he yelled, his voice a mixture of disbelief and rage. He stepped back, his face scrunching up in disgust as he muttered a string of curses, switching languages with every expletive. English, Japanese, Chinese, and then a barrage of rapid Korean filled the small elevator.

You stared down at your feet, heat crawling up your neck. “Sorry…” you mumbled, barely audible, too mortified to meet his eyes.

He glared at you, his nostrils flaring. “Sorry? Sorry?!” He stepped forward, looking like he had a whole speech prepared—

But the elevator dinged, its doors sliding open.

For the first time that night, you silently thanked every god you could think of as Jimin stomped out, muttering under his breath. You hurried after him, sneezing again as the cold air hit you.

“Sit,” he barked, pointing to the plush couch in his spacious living room. His voice was sharp, but his eyes softened for a moment as they flicked to your shivering form.

You sat without a word, clutching his blazer tightly around you. Jimin disappeared into hallway, still muttering under his breath. As you sneezed again, you couldn’t help but laugh softly at the ridiculousness of it all, even if he was plotting your demise in the next room.

He came back, dressed in a plain sweatshirt and gray sweatpants, his hair sticking up in messy tufts, like he’d been running his hands through it. Barefoot and casual, he should’ve looked harmless, but instead, he looked annoyingly good. His sharp gaze locked on you as he walked closer, his lips pressed into a tight line, like he had something serious to say. Your throat dried up when he stopped right in front of you, the scent of his and something uniquely him filling the air between you. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, and just as his lips parted to speak—

You sneezed.

Right on his face.

“Women, seriously?” he muttered, his lips curling into a smirk as he wiped the back of his hand against his face.

You scowled, tugging his oversized blazer tighter around yourself. “What? I can’t help it!”

“You can’t help anything. The only thing you can help at is being mean and senseless.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped, leaning toward him, ready to unleash your fury—but another sneeze erupted before you could get the words out.

“Eww!” he exclaimed, jerking back like you’d just sprayed him with acid.

He pointed toward the hallway, his expression torn between disgust and resignation. “You, come with me. Before you drown my house with your sneezes.”

You rolled your eyes, trudging after him as he led you through the sleek, modern interior of his house.

“I didn’t ask you to bring me here,” you grumbled, your damp hair sticking to your neck. “You could’ve just dropped me off at my place.”

He turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing in exasperation. “Did you see how hard it was raining? You wanted me to take you home and then drive back through that storm? I could’ve gotten stuck—or worse. You should be grateful!”

You glared at his back, muttering under your breath, “Grateful, my ass.”

Jimin stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, revealing a spacious, minimalist bedroom. He disappeared into the walk-in closet without a word, emerging moments later with a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

“Here,” he said, shoving the clothes into your arms. “Change into this.” His voice softened, just for a second, before he added, “Bathroom’s on the right. Don’t take forever.”

You raised a brow as he turned and left without waiting for a response. Rude.

But as you glanced around his room—simple yet elegant with muted tones and clean lines—you couldn’t deny the faint flutter in your chest. It was surreal, standing here, surrounded by the essence of him. Once upon a time, when you’d first started working at the company, you’d harboured the most ridiculous crush on him. Obsessive, even. But you’d gotten over it. Or at least you thought you had.

Quickly peeling off your wet clothes, you slipped into the hoodie and sweatpants. They were far too big, the sleeves swallowing your hands, but they were warm and soft. And they smelled… like him. Clean, woodsy, with the faintest hint of something sharp and intoxicating. You hated how comforting it felt.

Or maybe you didn’t.

When you returned to the living room, he was sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest. His eyes flicked to you, scanning you briefly before he gestured toward the coffee table. “Soup,” he said simply.

Your gaze shifted to the large bowl sitting on the table, steam rising from the golden liquid. Your heart softened a fraction as you sat beside him, the warmth of the soup drawing you in. Without a second thought, you grabbed the bowl and scooped up a spoonful.

The second it touched your tongue, the heat seared your mouth, and you yelped, dropping the spoon back into the bowl. Jimin’s eyes widened, as he shot forward. “What the hell?!” he exclaimed, snatching the bowl out of your hands and placing it back on the table.

Before you could respond, he was in front of you, crouching slightly, his face a mixture of panic and concern. leaning closer. He started fanning your mouth with his hand, his brows furrowed as he muttered under his breath. Then, without warning, he leaned in further and blew.

The cool air hit your lips, and your breath hitched. His face was inches from yours now, his dark eyes focused intently on your mouth. You froze, acutely aware of the way his hand hovered just beneath your chin, steadying you. The moment stretched, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. His gaze flicked to yours, and for a heartbeat, neither of you moved. His lips parted slightly, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Are you blind? C-Can’t you see it’s hot?” he scolded, his voice breaking slightly as he cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly on the couch. His eyes darted away from yours, and for a fleeting moment, you caught the faintest hint of colour creeping up his neck.

You nodded, the sting of embarrassment silencing any snarky retort. Any other day, you’d have torn into him for bossing you around, but now? You couldn’t even muster a glare. Instead, you pressed your palms to your cheeks, only to realize they were burning.

What the hell was wrong with you?

Your mind raced as you sat frozen in place. You’re over him. You’re over him, you chanted silently, willing the blush to disappear. But deep down, you knew the truth—your heart was still as stupid as ever.

And then, just as you thought you could gather yourself, you sneezed again.

His head whipped toward you, eyes narrowing slightly. You braced for the scolding that was surely coming, shoulders tensing as you sucked in a breath.

But instead, he shifted closer.

Your breath hitched.

His gaze softened, his brows knitting together with concern as he leaned in. “Are you really sick?” he asked, his voice quieter this time, almost gentle.

Before you could answer, his hand moved toward your face. You froze as his fingertips brushed your forehead, testing your temperature. His touch was warm—too warm—and your heart thudded violently in your chest.

He frowned, his hand lingering for a moment longer before sliding down to the side of your neck, his thumb grazing your jaw.

That was it. You were doomed.

Your pulse quickened beneath his touch, and you swore he could feel it. His brows furrowed deeper, his expression shifting from mild concern to genuine worry. “You’re turning red,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His thumb moved slightly, tracing an invisible line along your skin. “Do… Do I need to call a doctor?”

The tenderness in his tone almost shattered you. Why did he have to be like this? Why now?

You shook your head quickly, snapping out of your daze and leaning back, desperate to put some distance between you. “No,” you managed to croak, your voice embarrassingly hoarse.

He blinked, his hand falling back to his side as he sat upright. “Oh,” he said, his tone clipped. His shoulders stiffened as if he suddenly realized how close he’d been.

You caught his slight grimace as he scooted away, the small gap between you growing wider.

Your chest tightened, and before you knew it, you were pouting.

His gaze flicked to you, one brow arching in confusion. “What?” he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

You shook your head quickly, too flustered to explain.

“Seriously, what’s wrong now?” he pressed, his brows drawing together again.

But you just shook your head once more, biting your lip to keep from saying something stupid—like how much you’d missed this, how much you wished he’d never pulled away.

And yet, even as he leaned back into his corner of the couch, his gaze lingered on you for a second longer than necessary, his expression unreadable. And that tiny, almost imperceptible pause was enough to make your heart ache with hope.

“You hungry?” he asked, his voice low and casual as he glanced over at you.

“No,” you said quickly, your tone sharper than intended.

His lips quirked up, clearly not believing you. “You sure? I can cook,” he offered, his brows lifting in that way that made his face unbearably soft, like he was trying to coax the truth out of you.

You shook your head firmly. “I’m sure,” you mumbled, shifting your gaze back to the soup in your hands. You’d already eaten, and you knew he had too.

A comfortable silence fell between you. He leaned back on the couch, his head resting against the cushions, eyes fluttering closed. His chest rose and fell evenly, and for the first time since you’d met him, he looked utterly at peace.

And absolutely stunning.

You tried not to stare, but your eyes betrayed you, taking in every detail. The way his jawline looked sharper under the dim light, the soft curve of his lashes resting against his cheeks, and his lips—God, his lips—full and slightly parted, as if he was moments away from whispering something that would undo you.

Your gaze trailed down to his clothes, his sweatshirt slightly rumpled but hugging his shoulders perfectly. His loose, comfy sweatpants sat just right on his hips, and even in such an unassuming outfit, he looked... ethereal.

It wasn’t fair. How could someone look like that just sitting there?

You pulled your eyes away, forcing yourself to look out the glass wall instead. The rain pounded relentlessly against it, streaks of water catching the faint glow of the city lights outside. The storm showed no signs of stopping, and you couldn’t help but regret staying late at the office.

I could’ve finished it all tomorrow, you thought bitterly, tightening your grip on the warm bowl in your hands. Your eyes drifted back to him, unable to help yourself. The question burned at the back of your mind: why had he stayed late? You knew he often worked late, but on busy nights like this, he typically stayed at the office rather than going home. Tonight, though, he’d changed that.

You frowned slightly. What was different this time?

You didn’t know—and couldn’t have known—that the difference was you.

He had seen the storm warning on the news and had sent everyone home early, but you had stayed behind, stubbornly working. He had been about to leave, but seeing you there, so focused, so unaware of the weather worsening, had stopped him in his tracks. Jimin was nothing if not professional, but he had always harboured an unspoken interest in you—a quiet, persistent fondness he never let show.

And now, here you both were.

The silence stretched on, the sound of the rain filling the space between you. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but when you finally opened your mouth to speak, the words were out before you could stop them. And you almost regretted it. Almost.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The question slipped out before you could stop yourself, your eyes widening in surprise at your own words.

Jimin’s eyes flicked open, locking with yours instantly. There was a quiet amusement in his gaze, and his lips tugged up into that soft, teasing smile that made your heart do something you tried to ignore. He didn’t speak right away, just studied you as if he could read everything you weren’t saying.

“No,” he replied, his voice quiet and surprisingly soft. “Why do you ask?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling silly, and looked everywhere but at him—out the window, at your hands, the bowl of soup on the table. Anywhere but him.

He leaned back into the couch, clearly amused, a playful edge to his tone. “Why are you behaving like this?” His smile was still there, small but knowing.

“Like what?” you blurted out, but even as the words left your mouth, you knew it was a bit of a dumb question.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” He raised an eyebrow, watching you like you were a puzzle he was determined to figure out.

You stared at him, blinking a few times like he’d just sprouted another head, making his laughter bubble up, soft but genuine.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” he teased.

“Because you’re talking weird,” you said, voice a bit sharper than you intended, but your words faltered under his gaze.

He chuckled again, the sound warm and disarming, sending a flutter through your chest. “You’re behaving weird,” he countered.

You let out a frustrated huff and turned away from him, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, hoping the action would somehow shield you from whatever was happening between the two of you.

He chuckled again, and it was like a spark igniting inside you, frustrating and electrifying all at once. You glared at him, but even that seemed pointless when he was looking at you like that—like he could read the thoughts swirling in your head.

The silence that fell was oddly peaceful, but it didn’t sit well with you. You always needed something more. Chaos, noise, anything but stillness. Fidgeting in your seat, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You broke the silence, your voice sounding louder than you intended.

“Mr. Park—”

He cut you off with a soft smile, sitting up slightly. “You can call me Jimin,” he said, the words coming out like an invitation, a subtle challenge in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, hesitant. You glanced away quickly, feeling the heat creep up your neck as you crossed your arms defensively. “Are you sure?”

His gaze didn’t waver, locking onto yours with an intensity that made you feel suddenly exposed, vulnerable in a way you couldn’t explain. “Why do you look so unsure?” he asked, his voice gentle but with a teasing edge.

You stiffened, trying to find something—anything—to say. “You were perfectly okay threatening me and cursing at me. What happened now?”

His face twisted into a playful look of disbelief. “When did I—”

You were about to cut him off, but the teasing glint in his eyes silenced you.

“Huh?” His head tilted, and his smile grew, mischievous and daring.

“Okay! But I don’t mean any of it,” you blurted out, the words tumbling over each other as you sat up straighter, hoping it would make you look less flustered.

“Of course you don’t,” he said, his laugh escaping just beneath his words. The playful glint in his eyes only deepened as he relaxed back into the couch, arms spread wide like he was claiming the space between you. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and you couldn’t help but feel that same pull in your chest, though you tried to ignore it.

You crossed your arms tighter over your chest, trying to regain some control over yourself. “You really think you’re so charming, don’t you?”

He leaned in slightly, his smile widening, and your stomach fluttered despite your best attempts to stay unaffected.

“I don’t just think... I know.” His voice was full of that confidence that made your heart race, that impossible assurance that had you questioning everything.

You rolled your eyes, but even you knew it was more for show than anything. Your lips wanted to curl up, but you kept them pressed tight, the heat in your cheeks betraying the hard facade you tried to maintain.

“Yeah, right. Your just full of yourself,” you shot back, trying to sound unaffected, but the playful tone that slipped into your voice gave you away.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, his grin widening. “But I’ve got goods to back it up. Just look at how you're blushing.”

Your cheeks burned at his words, and you immediately shifted in your seat, trying to hide the heat spreading across your face. Your heart was racing now, and you could barely keep your breath steady.

“Am not!” you protested, but it came out weak, a poor defence against the blush that was clearly visible.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, before standing up. “Sure, let’s go.”

Confused, you followed him, your feet moving almost mechanically. You barely registered his words at first, still caught in the strange feeling his teasing had left in your chest. “It’s getting late. We should go to bed.”

Something about the way he said "we" made your stomach twist, or was it flutter? You weren’t sure. All you could hear now was the odd ringing in your ears, a soft buzz that drowned out everything else.

“We?” The word slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, confusion knitting your brows together as you watched him.

He gave you a small, almost reassuring smile as he stepped into his bedroom, holding the door open for you. His eyes never left you as he waited, his gaze warm, not at all like you had imagined it would be.

You stepped in hesitantly, your heart pounding with every step you took closer to him. Your mind was swirling, but you couldn’t place what was happening. You trusted him, you did, but something about this moment felt different—felt new.

“What happened?” he asked softly, his hands reaching out to gently pull you toward him, his touch grounding you in a way that made everything else fade into the background.

You blinked, confused. “Huh?”

His eyes searched your face with concern, his brows furrowing as his fingers grazed your cheek. “You’re so... pale.”

“Am I?” you whispered, suddenly aware of how unsteady you felt.

He didn’t seem satisfied with the answer. His touch moved from your face to your forehead, gently pressing as though checking for something. His fingers trailed down to your neck, the soft touch sending shivers down your spine.

You felt lightheaded, almost as if his hand was the only thing keeping you grounded. Your knees wobbled, your breath catching in your throat as your vision blurred.

“What happened to you?” His voice was barely a whisper now, a trace of worry creeping in that made your heart thud painfully in your chest.

The softness in his tone made your legs feel even weaker, like they could give out at any moment. Your body trembled slightly under his touch, your mind too foggy to make sense of anything.

Before you could even respond, he scooped you up effortlessly, his strength surprising you. He laid you down gently on the bed, the sudden movement making everything feel even more surreal.

You felt lighter than you ever had, almost weightless, like you could just float away. But your head—your head felt impossibly heavy, as if you couldn’t hold it up anymore. The dizziness washed over you in waves, your senses fading. You barely registered the way his face hovered above you, worry etched deep in his expression as he watched you. His hand was still on your forehead, his touch warm against your cool skin.

You barely registered the way his face hovered above you, worry etched deep in his expression as he watched you. His hand was still on your forehead, his touch warm against your cool skin.

“God, what... hap-happened?” he murmured again, but you couldn’t find the strength to answer. Your vision blurred even further, the world around you spinning uncontrollably. You felt yourself slip away, your body growing heavier.

And then, without warning, everything went black.

You blinked your eyes open, still disoriented, only to find Jimin staring down at you. His face was inches away, concern etched across his features. His hand was gently placed on your arm, and his eyes were wide, scanning your face for any sign of distress. The dim light in the room made the worried expression on his face all the more intense.

"You okay?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he helped you sit up, his hand guiding you gently. He reached for the glass of water from the bedside table, offering it to you with a quiet determination. Without thinking, you drank it in one go, the cool liquid helping to clear the fog in your mind. You nodded weakly, still feeling lightheaded, but trying to reassure him.

"You fainted," he said, his voice unsteady as he watched you closely, his brows furrowed in disbelief. You nodded again, still not fully processing what had just happened.

He looked at you, his eyes wide with surprise, lips parted in a mixture of concern and confusion. His expression was so pure, so real, it made something twist in your chest. You couldn’t help but chuckle, though it was soft, a little breathless.

"I’m fine, Jimin," you reassured him, the words coming out far less convincing than you hoped.

"No, you're not," he said firmly, his voice almost pleading, his tone so filled with worry it made your heart clench. "You fainted. Let’s go to doctor."

"I’m fine," you repeated, though the words felt weak. His eyes never left yours, searching for any sign that you were telling the truth. His hand reached up, rubbing his face in frustration, his worry only growing.

"And I’m worried," he said, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. His gaze softened, and you could see it in his eyes—the deep concern, the care that he couldn’t hide.

You felt a strange warmth spread through your chest, something raw and unspoken. But you also didn’t want him to act like this, not with you. Not now, not after everything.

“Why?” Your voice came out softer than you intended, almost a whisper, and you couldn’t look him in the eyes. It was the question you’d been asking yourself for so long, and now it slipped out before you could stop it. Your heart raced, your chest tightening as you waited for him to answer.

For a moment, he was silent. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, his gaze softening, and you could feel the tension between you grow thicker, thicker still. Then, as if to break the tension, he slowly reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch so gentle it sent a shiver down your spine. His hand lingered, resting on your skin, as if he wasn’t ready to pull away.

“Sleep,” he murmured, the word leaving his lips like a tender command. But the last thing you wanted to do was sleep. The night was still young, the rain pouring outside, the sound of it filling the room. The cold breeze from the open window brushed against your skin, but it was nothing compared to the warmth in your chest.

“I’ll sleep on the couch in the living room,” he said, as if it was the most natural thing to do. You stared at him, confused, unsure why he was saying that. You hadn’t asked him to, hadn’t even thought of it.

“Why?” you asked, your voice cracking just slightly.

“Because you’re sleeping on my bed,” he said, his voice firm but kind, as if it was obvious. He made you lie back down, covering you with the duvet, the soft fabric comforting against your skin. As he stepped back, you couldn’t stop the aching feeling in your chest, that unbearable pull that made your heart beat faster.

He moved toward the door, slow and deliberate, like he didn’t want to leave but had to. Every step he took felt like an eternity, and you wanted to call out to him, tell him to stop. But you couldn’t. You didn’t have the words.

When he reached the door, he paused and turned around to face you. His gaze softened, and he smiled—a small, almost shy smile, but one that made your chest ache. "Sleep tight, love. We have something important to talk about tomorrow." And with that, he closed the door softly behind him.

You lay there in the quiet room, your heart still racing, your mind spinning. You stared at the door, your thoughts scattered, your breath shaky. Did he just…? Did he just call you love?

The word echoed in your head, a faint warmth spreading through your veins. It was too much, and yet, you couldn’t stop the flutter in your chest. The night had shifted, everything had shifted, but you didn’t know what it meant. You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of hope.

And as the rain continued to pour outside, the sound somehow soothing your frayed nerves, you let your eyes flutter shut, your heart still thumping, your thoughts tangled in him.

I don’t know if you liked it or not, but please, leave some feedback. Like, tell me how much you loved it or absolutely hated it. I’m all ears... honestly, I’m mostly just here for the drama either way.

[zzukowo]

Zuko’s little secret <3 (5th October)

Zuko x Reader

Prompt! Gaang gets curious about where zuko sneaks off to every night

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden hue across the icy expanse of the Northern Water Tribe.

The Gaang had made their way north to visit the tranquil village, eager to regroup with their allies and recharge after their last battle. Zuko, now a trusted member of the group, had been a part of their team for some time, his fiery temperament mellowing under the warmth of friendship.

As evening fell, Zuko found himself slipping away from the warm glow of the warriors’ gathering hall. His heart raced with excitement, but he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt. He was on his way to meet Y/N, the stunning waterbending princess of the Northern Water Tribe. Their secret rendezvous had become a cherished escape from the weight of his past, a place where he could be just Zuko and not the exiled prince of the Fire Nation.

Zuko made his way through the glimmering streets, his mind focused on the evening ahead. Y/N was enchanting, with a spirit as free as the ocean waves. They often met by a secluded spot near the coast, a hidden alcove surrounded by rocks and softly illuminated by the moonlight. Their conversations flowed as freely as the water, and every moment spent with her felt like a breath of fresh air.

Meanwhile, back at the hall, Aang, Katara, Sokka, and Toph gathered around the fire, their chatter filled with laughter and stories from their travels. Sokka leaned back, eyeing Zuko’s empty seat across from him.

“Where do you think Zuko keeps disappearing to every night?” he asked, suspicion lacing his tone.

Aang shrugged, his curiosity piqued. “He’s been really dedicated to training lately. Maybe he’s just taking some time to himself.”

“Or maybe he’s off brooding about something,” Toph smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Katara crossed her arms, her brows furrowing. “I don’t know… It’s a little odd, don’t you think? He’s been leaving right after dinner every night.”

Sokka nodded, his expression serious. “We should follow him. If he’s up to something, I want to know what it is. It could be dangerous.”

Toph rolled her eyes, clearly amused. “Are you sure it’s not just a crush? You know how moody he gets. He probably just wants to be alone.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather see it for myself,” Sokka said, determination in his voice. “We’ll follow him tonight.”

As night fell, Zuko met Y/N at their secret spot, the sound of the waves providing a soothing backdrop to their soft laughter. They talked about everything and nothing, sharing stories and dreams as they watched the stars twinkle above.

“Do you think they’ll ever accept you?” Y/N asked gently, her eyes reflecting concern.

Zuko sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I hope so. But my past… it’s a heavy burden. Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve happiness.”

Y/N reached for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. “You deserve it, Zuko. You’re not the same person you were. You’re trying to change, and that’s what matters.”

Just then, a rustling noise broke through their moment. Zuko’s heart raced, instinctively looking around. “Did you hear that?”

Before he could react, Sokka, Aang, and Katara emerged from the shadows, their expressions a mix of surprise and triumph. Toph followed behind, her trademark smirk plastered on her face.

“Zuko!” Sokka called, pointing an accusatory finger. “What’s going on here?”

Y/N quickly pulled her hand away, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Zuko felt a surge of anger and embarrassment as he faced his friends.

“Guys, this isn’t what it looks like,” Zuko stammered, his usual composure slipping.

“Looks like a date to me,” Sokka teased, trying to mask his surprise with bravado.

Katara’s eyes widened as she turned to Y/N, who stood frozen, her expression a mix of surprise and apprehension. “You’re… you’re Princess Y/N?”

“I… uh…” Y/N stammered, unsure of how to respond.

“Zuko’s been keeping secrets!” Aang chimed in, grinning. “And here we thought he was just brooding alone!”

Zuko glared at his friends, a mixture of frustration and embarrassment coursing through him. “I didn’t want to hide this. I just wanted to keep it special.”

“Special?” Sokka raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin on his face. “This is epic!”

“Yeah, what’s the deal?” Toph chimed in, crossing her arms. “You two should’ve just told us. We would have supported you!”

Y/N finally found her voice, a hint of laughter breaking through her initial surprise. “I didn’t think it would be this complicated!”

Zuko took a deep breath, his heart racing as he turned to face Y/N. “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how. You mean a lot to me, and I didn’t want to put pressure on us.”

Y/N smiled softly, her eyes shimmering under the moonlight. “I feel the same way, Zuko. I didn’t want to rush things either.”

“Okay, so are you guys dating or what?” Sokka interrupted, his curiosity piqued.

“Yes,” Zuko admitted, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “We are.”

A cheer erupted from the group, laughter and teasing filling the air. Katara stepped forward, beaming at Y/N. “You’re perfect for him. Just know that if he hurts you, I’ll have to kick his butt!”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Zuko promised, his gaze steady on Y/N. “I care about her too much.”

As the group embraced the new dynamic, Zuko felt a warmth spread through him, a sense of acceptance he had longed for. In that moment, surrounded by his friends and Y/N, he realized that perhaps he truly was on the path to redemption. And as he intertwined his fingers with Y/N once more, he knew their love would only grow stronger in the light of honesty and friendship.

[clanborn]

Origins of the Bay Clans: Stone and the Lynx (Part 2)

The tracks led inland, further than the cats of Stone’s little clan had yet dared to travel. She followed the river upstream, skirting the thrashing current as it threw itself against the banks. The forest grew denser, the hemlocks thicker, the sharp peaks of the mountains taller, casting the valley in deep shadow. All was silent but the river, and the sound of strange, buzzing bird calls that rang eerily through the trees. Though her heart trembled, Stone trekked on, her pawsteps guided by purpose and the tracks that still sat unmistakable in the mud.

Stone had never followed a river to its origin, had never even thought of it as a possibility. Water–rivers, oceans, rains–lived outside the boundaries of a lifespan, within birth and death. Rivers weren’t something that just began, or ended, they simply cycled–at least, that’s what she had believed. 

After hours spent unceasingly hiking through the valley, Stone emerged from the edge of the treeline. The pebbled ground spread flat in front of her, before abruptly spiking upward to form the range of mountains. Two peaks pierced the sky, and nestled between them was a landform unlike anything Stone had ever seen. The river rushed forward from the base of a giant white slope, a crystalline mass carved deep with blue crevices. 

The wall shone like a piece of the moon itself, bleeding into the valley, its essence spilling into the forest before winding its way to the Bay. As Stone drew closer, she realized with a shock that the structure was made of ice, frozen solid despite the warmth of late spring.

She halted at the river’s edge, looking upon the structure in wonder. Was the moon made of ice? Had a shard of it fallen from the heavens upon the mountains? What else could create a fortress so massive, so imposing yet nurturing, whose icy waters fed the land and the bay?

These questions swam through her mind, but she tossed them to the side with a flick of her ears. For now, the answers were unknowable, and she must remain focused on her task.

She shook out her pelt and continued her path: the ground now had turned to gravel, and she tracked by scent instead of footprints. The slope turned steep, then rocky, a gray mountain face broken only by patches of unmelted snow and determined shrubs. Below her, the mass of ice gleamed, stretching out beyond the peaks like a blinding white sea. 

As she continued along the mountainside, she noticed an opening in the cliff face, a dark entrance where the ice field met the mountain. She quickened her pace until she reached the cave entrance, standing on the barrier of darkness. Here, the scent she was tracking hung in the air, strong as ever, leading her into the blackness. She slipped into the cave without a second thought

Inside was a large cave, and she quickly crossed the open stretch of ground to the back, where a darker shadow lay. A tunnel.

Curiosity drove her forward, driving away any fear she might have felt. Down into the tunnel she tread, deeper and deeper into the veins of the mountain. For ages she was guided by scent alone, and the narrow tunnel walls pressing on all sides. An eternity of darkness. 

Finally, Stone saw light, a blue glow that softly spilled into the end of the tunnel. Her footsteps quickened, and the cat entered into a cavern. Her breath hitched as she stepped into the light, awed by the sight before her. A medium sized cave rose around her, walls of smooth, layered stone arcing above her. The stone was washed with blue, for one wall was made not of rock, but entirely of ice. It was a deep, rich blue, as sunlight filtered down into the fragment of icy moon.

Within the ice wall’s bubbles and cracks hung an even stranger sight. A giant skeleton, ancient and fragmented, was trapped frozen in the ice, the remains of a creature Stone had never seen before. Though it’s thick bones and long, curved fangs were utterly unfamiliar, something in Stone knew it had once called itself catkin. A forgotten ancestor.

In front of the ice, sitting still and gray as the rocks around it, was a towering feline silhouette, its tufted ears outlined by the cold light. Stone’s fellow, wild catkin cousin. The Lynx.

The Lynx turned its gaze towards her slowly, expectantly, like it had known about her presence even before she did. Stone approached it, wary. 

“I admire your tenacity, cat” Its voice was a gravelly purr. “I thought you’d stop at the treeline.”

Stone skirted the wall carefully, keeping several pawsteps of distance between her and the creature. “Why did you assume that?”

The Lynx wrinkled its nose in a wry smirk. “Well, look at you. You’re an imitation of a cat. This wilderness is unfit for your kind.”

Stone flattened her ears, attempting to keep her voice level. “What exactly do you mean?”

“You call yourselves ‘cats’, yet your kind feeds by human hands. You have grown small and thin-furred, distant from your nobler origins. You can only survive in little packs, reliant on the work of others, unable to face nature with your own merit—A true ‘cat’ walks in solitude, you know nothing of the sort.”

Stone looked beyond the Lynx to the ice wall behind it, where the massive bones of their great ancestor lay suspended in time. “You say my kind has fallen, but have yours not? Have you not also grown smaller than this god, your fangs short, your bones thin? It too lived in solitude, yet here it lies, dead, its life unremembered by its catkin. You mock my community, but we have lived this long despite this lands’ harshness, and will continue to do so.”

The Lynx’s smug expression faded, and its gaze grew intense as it stared at Stone. “Even gods die, housecat. The only thing life guarantees is an ending.” It curled its lip. “Your ‘community’ is not exempt from this.”

Stone met its eyes, unwavering. “If we are catkin, what bars me from the same powers you possess? Surely I can learn to survive by your means, surely I can find access to your blessings.”

The Lynx almost laughed, but the scoff caught in its throat. It narrowed its eyes, suddenly thoughtful, the smirk creeping back up its muzzle.

“Maybe I can offer you a taste of godhood, little cat. The lives of my predecessors run through me, from the tip of my tail through all ten of my claws.” The deity sat back on its haunches and held up its massive paws in demonstration. For a brief moment, its claws twinkled with a faint light, like stars plucked straight from the sky.

“One of these is mine, of course. But I have nine to spare.” It tilted its head down at her, its fangs gleaming in the blue cavern light. “Provided I deem you worthy of them.”

Stone raised her head in challenge. “What would make me worthy?”

The Lynx paused to consider, eyeing her up and down. 

“To you alone I will grant these lives, thus you alone must face me.” The lynx narrowed its eyes. “Prove to me your will and strength, and defeat me in battle. If I submit, I grant you these lives, and the chance to explore this bay with greater distance between death and yourself.”

“Your loss, of course, will cost you your life.” It dipped its head towards her. “Is it a deal?”

Stone paused, hesitant, her heart fluttering in her chest. How could she face this creature in her state, small in stature, weary from her climb, completely alone? Despite her apprehension, her curiosity was stronger. There was only one chance for an opportunity like this, and even if she declined, what would stop the Lynx from killing her anyway?.

She nodded once. “I accept your terms.”

The lynx nodded back. Its fangs flashed. It stretched its claws. 

They leapt into battle.

Stone was swift, but the Lynx was strong and skilled. It battered her with massive paws, slamming her into the cold rocky floor. Stone dodged and weaved through its attacks, but the cavern was small, and every leap Stone made seemed to send her into another faceful of claws.

Her opponent threw a powerful swipe, tossing her against the ice wall with a thud. Back against the blue glow, Stone crouched low, struggling to catch her breath. Her strength was waning, and Stone knew with every moment her chances of victory grew slimmer. Her paws shook slightly. The Lynx had noticed her waver, and began to pad towards with calm, sure steps. It smiled–it was eager to finish her off. How could she win this?

She thought of the cats–the clan–she had left behind, who likely waited anxiously for their wayward leader’s return. Would they falter without her guidance? Would the glimmer of hope she had lit in their hearts snuff out with fear? If only she could lead them to the majestic moon glacier, show them the ethereal ancient glow of the blue cave, renew their spirits with wonder at the wilderness they were trapped in. Stone suddenly stiffened, steeling herself as she lifted her gaze back toward her foe. Though she fought alone in the cavern, her mind conjured the presence of her clan behind her. She would not die here. She would die among the cats she had befriended, who had banded together in their time of need. The cats she needed, who needed her to return alive.

With a burst of vigor, Stone launched herself toward the lynx’s head, her weight and confidence catching it off guard. She clung to its face, slashing its ears, her momentum sending it crashing hard into the floor. It flailed its huge paws, but Stone stood steadfast upon its chest, pressing her own paws down forcefully against its throat. Her claws dug in, blood welled up around her toes. The lynx grew more panicked, struggling wildly, its breath stuttering in strangled gasps. Stone pressed harder.

“St–Sto-”

Stone leaned close into its face. “Do you yield?”

The Lynx thrashed its head, attempting to nod frantically. “Yg-Yes!”

Stone slowly lifted her paws, releasing pressure off the creature’s throat. It gasped for air, then shoved her off its chest, throwing her to the floor. She scrambled to her paws, watching the Lynx heave. After it had caught its breath, the Lynx pressed its paw deep into the stone floor. It did so with strange power, impressing into the rock like it was mud, leaving the crisp outline of its giant pawprint. It beckoned her over. Its breath was hoarse. “Come.”

Stone approached the Lynx. She eyed it warily, nervous that it would decide to ignore the deal and kill her anyway. But it didn’t move as she stood above it, her paws settling on the edge of its pawprint, which seemed to sparkle slightly in the dim, cold light. 

The Lynx glared up at her, its cool demeanor vanished, its eyes blazing with controlled fury. “Touch your nose to the floor,” it growled. “You will receive your reward.”

Carefully, Stone dipped her head down, until her nose brushed against the floor’s icy chill. For a brief moment, all was still.

Suddenly, she was blinded by overwhelming light. The force of the glare threw her head back, and her vision was assaulted by an oppressive blur of color and noise. Images flashed in her mind, landscapes, memories, creatures she has never seen before. Each streaked by, too fast for her to fully process the scenes. Waves of emotion crashed in her, sending her reeling, thrown into a raging sea of grief and joy and fear and wonder. She felt all of time as it had crept by, millions of years of the past and future stretched out infinitely, lived all at once in a single instant. She felt everything. She felt nothing. It was the most agonizing pain she had ever experienced, swept in a flood of sheer euphoria. She knew places and beasts and times she had no name for, all lived through and known by the catkin before her. It was the longest moment of her life, but as she crouched, trembling, blinking her eyes back to the sight of the blue cavern, she realized only seconds had passed.

The Lynx had stood, and had begun moving toward the cave’s exit. It turned to look down at her, and Stone returned its gaze, panting heavily, her fur on end and buzzing with strange energy.

It was silent for a moment. “You now have eight more lives to live along with your own. More than any little cat has had before. Your blessing and your curse.” It lulled thoughtfully, its expression had settled back into its neutral stare. 

Its voice was cold, though laced with an undertone of contempt–and perhaps, Stone thought, respect. “Do not treat this victory lightly, Stone. Every day you live here will be another test, another gamble with your life. Living here is a game with no winners, and you and your fellows can only stall the march of nature for so long.” 

The lynx turned, padding toward the exit. “The gods here will meddle where they like, and though you have bested me, I can not guarantee my kin will be deterred from entertaining themselves with playthings like you.”

The god stopped in the entrance, then glanced back toward her, its face in shadow.

“Good luck, Stone. You will need it.”

It disappeared.

For a moment, Stone stood alone in the blue cavern.

She was not Stone anymore. Something had changed within her, the Lynx’s stars sat heavy in her chest, glittered on her whiskers. Just as an icy piece of the moon had fallen to the earth and become one with it, fragments of the stars had melded with her being. She was Stonestar, and her pelt glowed with the new (old?) lives that settled under her fur. 

And she was alive. More than she had ever been before. 

And it was time to return to her clan.

[naffeclipse]

A Gesture Returned Pt. 2

Reader x Orca!Eclipse

Commission Info

I return with another lovely request by the sweet @rinzydings who asked for a little continuation! Y/N has accepted life as a siren and a mate to Orca!Eclipse, they miss just a thing or two from their human days. Eclipse helps to make things a little better. I hope you enjoy! <3

———

The Arctic sea is icy blue and calm. The depths once terrified you, how the waves seemed to swallow whole whatever touched its surface, but you are no longer the small and ill-adapted human you once were. 

A strong and sleek tail propels you through the glacier dotted waters. Ice floes gather upon the surface and create a patchy field of white and dark. To the far side of you, a towering land mass of ice and frozen rock juts into the sky and breaks up the pale mist. The cold does not sink into your bones and cause you to shiver. Though your upper half is bare, you have no fear of freezing. Magic and the natural blubber of your tail combined to keep you safe.

This is your home. When you first arrived for the simple objective of taking photos, you never dreamed of who you would meet in the frigid temperatures nor how much it would change your very existence. 

You love being a siren. Very rarely have you longed or desired for something only your human hands could get a hold of, but while you draw your fingertips just under the surface to watch ripples bloom outwards at your touch, you remember a few things. Your camera, for one. There are so many incredible sights to see that Eclipse has guided you too, and he waited with baited breath for your excitement. The world is beautiful. You had set out to capture those images and share them with others, and succeeded. Now, you enjoy them for yourself.

Another, as silly and strange as it sounds, is dancing. You were never particularly skilled. It was simply a way to express how much you enjoyed a song or felt like getting excitable energy out when you were alone. 

You slow for a moment to gaze at yourself in the dark teal depths. Holding out your arms, you study the shape of your limbs, then slip your gaze down to your tail. Black and white flukes wave slightly to allow you to tread water. The breath in your lungs is still strong, fresh. 

Eclipse can dance. You’ve sat in reverent awe of his ability to cut powerfully through the deep darkness of the sea and effortlessly bound over the surface in graceful bows. Maybe he wouldn’t use that word, but you find it beautiful all the same.

Maybe you can still dance, even now. 

You slowly hold out your arm and tilt your hand, drawing it upwards and softly flicking your tail. Your body turns in a makeshift pirouette. The urge to arch a leg and separate your lower half from itself comes and goes, and your tail gives an awkward jerk. You stop, drifting slightly in your lost momentum. It is very different. 

Again, you begin turning. You focus on your arms, on the push of your flukes and the sweeping motion of your tail. The water sloshes around you, bubbles conjured at your flips and leaps, though you remain just below the surface. 

A frown touches your mouth as you find yourself struggling to conquer what you think is a proper dance. You’re not Eclipse. You don’t have his great power and slipstream grace in the ocean. You were once a human, now a siren, who is learning how to dance again.

Again, you try to twist yourself as if you were spinning upon air and find a way to step with the tips of your flukes, but the attempt slips down your body in awkward jolts and unnatural movements. Your tail strains against itself. Your arms hold heavy in the water, and you huff a gurgle of air that darts upwards.

In your distraction, you don’t catch the familiar approach of a black and white, red tipped siren. You stare down your tail until large hands, adorn in black-bone claws, take hold of your waist, and lift you to the surface where you take a gentle, deep gasp.

“Birdie,” Eclipse rumbles. He floats gently along the surface, leaning back slightly as he pulls you against his chest. Your back lights flat against him, your dorsal fin brushing against his side. “What were you doing just a moment ago? It looked strange.”

You laugh quietly. Sensing his genuine curiosity, you gently turn in his embrace to lay your hands against his chest. His powerful tail flicks and allows you two to drift seamlessly along the surface. He keeps your head above water.

“Dancing,” you confess, though a frustrated flush fills your face. “I was trying to, at least.”

His eyes gleam brightly. He draws a hand along your hip, caressing your skin along the seam of where it melts down into black and white flesh. 

“What reason did you feel to start dancing?” The intrigue in his voice makes you blush slightly. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”

A tease touches the corner of your mouth.

“So eager, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he dips his chin firmly. The beautiful flare of the frills around his head seem to burn brighter red for a moment. “How do you dance?”

“Oh, well, I…” You pause and look down Eclipse before lifting your chin. The effort you expel to put together the image of two humans dancing is difficult, but you try nonetheless. If only you had a picture of such a thing. Frustration begins to claw along your throat when you near a faltering end of your vision.

Eclipse stops you gently with a claw to your jawline.

“Show me.”

A stillness falls over you. His certainty, however, gives the gentle push you require.

You slide slightly off of him. Before his expression can morph into displeasure at your distance, you gently take his hands in yours. The seashells decorating his wrist click softly together as you bring your chests closer.

“Place your hand here,” you instruct gently as you set his palm upon your hip. “Then hold my hand here.”

You extend his arm. Though his size is greater than yours, he adjusts to match you. 

“Tell me more,” Eclipse rumbles, low in his chest. The vibrations touch you, and you smile. 

“If we were human, we would step together, sort of in a square,” your thoughts grow heavy as you try to translate the motion. You tug him gently, gliding through the sea in an uncertain and strange manner. You are not two humans dancing.

You are sirens. 

A low hum lifts from Eclipse. Before you can grow anxious that you’ve tried to impose a very human element upon two aquatic creatures, Eclipse gently flaps his flukes. He draws you backwards with his movement. You gasp softly. He pulls you into another motion, and this time, you flick your tail to keep up with his motion. 

You lift your eyes. His gaze is already upon you, warm in the Arctic. Like twin suns, his eyes of yellow and red hold you softly as he replicates something you haven’t felt in a long time.

“I do miss your legs,” he says in a low, nostalgic tone while taking you into another motion with the push of his tail, “but I adore how you are now.”

A sweet warmth comes upon you. Clutching his hand, and resting your other on his shoulder, you lean in closer in this makeshift, watery waltz. 

“I do, too,” you murmur. 

Resting your head on his shoulder, Eclipse leads you effortlessly along the surface. The water splashes against your shoulders. The ocean tugs on your flukes but Eclipse is steady as the sky while dancing you through his world.

It feels right. He understands how the motions should go, even without legs, and you are falling into the hypnotic rhythm with a dreamy satisfaction.

“We must dance like this more often,” he rasps close to your ear. He turns his head gently to lay a kiss to your cheek. “Now, let me show you how I dance.”

Perking up at his affection, you smile while squeezing his hand.

Eclipse grins. He stops with a slight jolt, and his touch falls away from your hip as he unweaves his fingers from between your own. He slips away. Much to your cold confusion, you clutch your empty palms and watch him gather a deep breath. The orca siren grins his pearly white teeth before diving below. 

Your tail swishes back and forth. Peering through the blurry veil of the surface, you watch his shape descend down, down, down. Slowly, you lower yourself into the ocean. Blinking your eyes, you find him in the dazzling depths. Eclipse begins to wind back and forth. His powerful tail works through the thick brine and his dorsal fin arches high and proud. He twists back to the surface. His toothy smile is still in place, his eyes set ablaze with determination.

Then he begins to swim. Speeding like a torpedo through the deep blue, he rises, higher and higher. You find your breath catching in your throat as you follow him up towards the very sky. You jerk through the surface just as he breaks through it. For a moment, he seems to fly. The orca siren sails, his body a beautiful curve of power and elegance, before he crashes back down with a magnificent splash. 

Water cascades over you. Salty sea spray pushes your short hair onto your face. Eclipse calls out your name. A bubbling, joyous sound rises from your lips as you peel away the sobbing wet strands from your forehead. 

A gentle wave reaches you before you lift your head once more, and find Eclipse reaching for you. His hands lightly grasp your arms before tugging you closer.

“That is how I dance,” he rumbles softly, lowering his head to press his forehead to yours.

“I love it,” you utter, breathless. “You’re so incredible and handsome. I wish I could be as balletic.”

He chortles a rough but nonetheless sweet sound. He caresses your arms, sliding his touch down to your hands.

“You will,” he declares. “Come dance with me.” 

You blink. He sets his expression, unwavering set upon this moment, and you beam.

“Okay,” you breathe, eager.

He squeezes your hands one, then releasing one, he dives underneath, taking you with him. He builds his speed with strong waves of his tail. You push yourself. Using the strength of your sleek and strong body, you shoot into the depths. 

The water darkens. Eclipse clutches your hand tight. For one brief moment, you two are one, weaving and twirling together, held within a frosted sea. But he turns you back to the surface. From a great distance, the surface glitters with refractions of the sun, and you feel no fear for how close the darkness below you lies. You are caught in a salty twilight.

Eclipse squeezes your hand. You look at him and your instinct answers. In one movement together, you charge for the light. Up, and up, and up, you struggle and fight until the surface twinkles just within reach. Hand in hand, you and Eclipse launch into the air. 

You fly with your mate. Weightless, endless, you float between ocean and sky. Water scatters, and you dance. 

He pulls you against him just as you both crash back to the surface. His back takes the brunt of the impact and water rushes back to welcome you two, but you are laughing. You hide your face against Eclipse’s neck. He booms with joy, a thunderous cackle that leaves you with more mirth. 

He holds you tight and keeps you along the surface. 

“You are so beautiful, my mate,” he declares.

You touch his cheek.

“You are stunning,” you stroke the sleek and smooth markings of his visage. “Thank you for dancing with me.”

“We can dance whenever you wish, birdie.” Eclipse takes your hand, and sets his other on your hip. “Merely say the word. I am yours.”

You beam at him. Whatever lingering nostalgia there is clinging to your rib cage surely melts away as Eclipse pulls you into another waltz in the Arctic Ocean.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Crossroads

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 9

Prompt: Icy Roads

Rated: T

Tags: Fantasy AU; Demons; Deal with a devil; Slight blood and gore; Blood drinking

The full moon is almost at its zenith by the time Eddie reaches the crossroads outside the village. It's a few days until the solstice, and even though there's no wind, the air has that unforgiving bite to it that comes with clear, starry winter nights. His toes are aching in his threadbare boots - that dull, throbbing pain that means they're going to go numb soon. He grits his teeth and ignores them, stiff fingers fumbling in his bag for the supplies. 

He didn't account for how difficult it would be, etching the runes into the ground. The earth and mud are frozen solid, covered in a thin sheen of glittering ice. He casts his stick aside after the first futile attempt, opting to use his dagger instead, and even so, it's agonizingly slow work. Eddie swears under his breath, casting nervous glances at the moon overhead. The witching hour will be over soon. When his circle is finally complete, his neck is drenched in sweat and his breath fogs around him in puffy clouds. He doesn’t waste any time, scrambling up and standing by the side of the circle. His hands are so numb he hardly feels the pain of the blade slicing through his palm. He waits impatiently for the blood to well up, then holds his hand out. 

“What are you doing?” 

Eddie yelps and whirls. The precious red droplets burst outside the circle. 

There's a boy standing behind him, watching him curiously. He must've come from the village, even though Eddie is sure he's never seen him around. He'd remember if he had. 

He's striking. More beautiful than anyone else Eddie has seen in his sixteen winters. Smooth, soft skin with dark moles scattered all over it, like the stars in the sky above. His clothes are unlike anything Eddie has ever seen, rippling around him like water turned fabric. Shiny and precious and way too thin for a night like this. Some merchant's or nobleman's son, probably, passing through on his way to wherever it is that rich people go. 

“Fuck off,” he snaps, clenching and unclenching his hand in an attempt to draw more blood. “Can't you see I'm busy?” 

The boy doesn't fuck off. His footsteps crunch in the frozen mud as he walks closer. Eddie tries to ignore him, even though he can feel his breath on his neck. 

“Are you trying to summon a demon?” 

Eddie groans. 

“No,” he grits out. A thin red rivulet is trickling down his shaking fingers. Not enough. Not nearly enough. “I'm not trying, I am summoning a demon, so get outta here before-” 

“No, you're not.” 

Eddie whips around. The boy doesn't flinch, even though the burst of movement almost knocks their noses together. 

“What the hell would you know about that?” 

The boy shrugs, meeting his glare with an infuriatingly bright smile. “I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that rune is upside down.” 

“It’s not-” Eddie starts to say, but then he follows the boy's gaze and his stomach lurches. “Shit!” 

He drops to his knees, frantically trying to smooth out the earth and redo his work, but the ground is rock hard and his bloodied fingers keep slipping on the hilt of the dagger and his nose is stinging and the rune is starting to blur in front of his eyes. 

“It's no use,” says the boy, not unkindly. “You'll never fix it on time. You can always come back next month, or in spring even, when the ground is-” 

“No, I can't!” Eddie yells. His voice cracks. In the shrubbery by the roadside, a tiny animal takes off in flight. “I can't wait because he'll be dead by next month, so shut the fuck up and leave me alone!” 

Silence drops. Somewhere in the night, an owl hoots, long and mournful. 

“Dead?” asks the boy. He had crouched down so that his face is level with Eddie’s, peering at him with the same calm curiosity as before. “Who'll be dead?” 

Eddie wipes his eyes, smearing tears and blood all over his face. 

“My uncle. He's sick, and it's been getting worse, he doesn't have time-”

The boy snorts, disbelieving and bewildered. “What, you don't have healers in your village?”

And Eddie doesn’t know why, but he almost tells him. About how they're too poor to afford one. About how, even if they could, nobody would come and help them. How it's all his fault. He, who killed his own mother in childbirth, who seems to be followed by bad luck wherever he goes. No way any of the superstitious townspeople would mess with that. 

“This is pretty serious business, what you're attempting here. It's no joke, entering a contract with a demon.”  

“Yeah, no shit,” Eddie snivels, watching his hand in his lap. Now it's bleeding, of course. Now that it's too late. “You think I don't know that?” 

“You're willing to accept the consequences, then? Sign over your body and soul? Obey their every order? Serve them in this life and beyond, and swear allegiance to no other master?” 

“Fuck, yeah, whatever,” Eddie growls. “All of that, if that's what it takes. What's it to-” 

And then he looks up and his voice fails. 

The boy is smiling, wide and satisfied. His eyes are gold, glowing with an inner light that puts the moon to shame. His pupils are thin slits. 

“I've stated my terms and you’ve accepted,” the boy says. In spite of the frost, his hand is warm as it closes around Eddie’s wrist. His nails are sharp. “Just as I accept your offering.” 

His tongue tickles Eddie’s skin as he drags it over the cut in his palm, lapping up the blood. 

“The contract is valid, and your wish shall be granted. From this night, you're mine.” 

More holiday drabbles

It's not how Eddie expected to sell his soul, but he'll take all he can get. 

[lyratea]

Winter Legacy Challenge

You’ve always hated the heat, as a kid you dreamed of snowy mountains and chilly air. But now, as a young adult, you're finally leaving your warm hometown behind to start fresh in the cold, serene peaks of Mt. Komorebi. With nothing but the winter landscape ahead, and ready to build a new life — a legacy — in the heart of the snow. Welcome to the Winter Legacy Challenge! Expansion packs you'll need: -- Snowy Escape. If you don't have snowy escape, but have seasons, this works fine too. It's okay to play through spring considering the weather conditions BUT you'll have to remember to enable testingcheats and change it back to winter once it becomes summer with seasons.set_season 2 -- Seasons Recommend packs, but BG alternatives provided: -- Outdoor Retreat -- Life and Death -- Spa Day Not needed, but nice for gameplay: -- Island Living -- Eco Lifestyle

Rules: -- You may use freerealestate for your first house, but after please refrain from using any other cheats while playing. -- Normal or Long lifespans. -- Careers are up to you, UNLESS stated otherwise. -- You need to complete each requisite (goals, and challenges for the generation. Aspirations if stated) before that sim dies. If they die before everything is completed, their heir must pick a goal or challenge to complete in honor of them. -- If they die before producing a heir, you fail. -- If a sim dies from freezing, their heir must honor them by building a small memorial or shrine. Gen 1: Winter Dreamer Backstory: Having spent their life in the desert, this Sim dreams of snow-covered landscapes. They’ve saved enough to move to a permanent winter wonderland. Snow brings them joy, and they dedicate themselves to creating a cozy, snow-loving life. Traits: Cheerful, Loves Outdoors, Family-Oriented Aspiration: Mt. Komorebi Sightseer  Goals:

Complete your aspiration entirely. 

ALWAYS Complete the Winterfest holiday tradition (decorate the tree, cook a holiday meal, etc).

Have a Hot Tub on your plot. (OR build a pool and add decorative rocks and greenery around it)

Collect all Sammies. 

Challenge: Your Sim must spend 3+ hours outside daily, no matter the weather or their needs. (It can be making snow angels or exploring town, etc.)

Gen 2: Frostbitten Adventurer Backstory: Growing up surrounded by snow, this Sim craves adrenaline-fueled adventures. They embrace the wildness of winter, seeking thrilling experiences and surviving extreme conditions. Traits: Adventurous, Active, Self-Assured Aspiration: Extreme Sports Enthusiast Goals:

Master the Snowboarding skill.

Reach at least Rock Climbing level 5, to prepare for intense outdoor activities. 

Woo a partner during a Festival of Snow or a snowy outing.

Challenge:  Participate in at least three snowboarding, sledding, or skiing competitions—and win at least one before aging up.

Gen 3: Icy Artisan  Backstory: Born into a family of survivors and adventurers, this Sim found solace in the beauty of the winter landscape and became a renowned artist known for their winter-themed works. Traits: Creative, Loves the Outdoors, Proper Aspiration: Painter Extraordinaire Goals:

Visit a National Park (via Outdoor Retreat pack) or build a homestead filled with outdoor elements.

Paint or take 8 winter-themed works (snowy forests, ice skating, festive winter scenes).

Embrace Winterfest as their favorite holiday, decorating the tree, and hosting festive gatherings.

Challenge: To make a living, they will rely only on their art—no regular jobs allowed. No thermostat can be used to heat the home this generation, use fireplaces or space heaters instead.

Gen 4: Frozen Royalty Backstory: This Sim believes they are the ruler of a frozen kingdom. Eccentric and ambitious, they build an empire to match their icy vision, complete with loyal subjects and a grand icy palace. Traits: Ambitious, Snob, Romantic Aspiration: Mansion Baron Goals:

Host at least two grand events each winter (Winter Balls, fancy dinners, or other social gatherings). These events must include 6+ guests, top-quality food, and gold-level rewards.

Have at least one child with Father Winter.

During the winter season, go ice skating. Max the skating skill. You are allowed to put them on your plot so you don't need to travel, if you have the funds and room. (There is one located somewhere in Mt. Komorebi, if you dont have Snowy Escape, travel to Magnolia Blossom Park in Willow Creek during winter.)

Challenge: Your heir must inherit an heirloom and keep the ‘icy empire’ alive. (if you don't own life and Death, that’s okay, just pick something that stays with the heir until they die. It can be in their inventory or place somewhere in the lot.

Gen 5: The Eternal Winter Keeper? As the heir to a family built on the love for winter and it’s traditions, you’ve always known your role: to continue your ancestors’ mission of preserving the eternal frost. But as the years go on, you’ve begun to question your destiny. You long for warmth, sun, and freedom from the cold. The decision weighs heavily on your heart:

Will you stay loyal to your family and uphold their wintery legacy? Or will you break away and forge a new path, leaving snow behind for the warmth of tropical shores?

Path 1: Frozen Protector Backstory: For generations, your family has served as stewards of winter—a lineage entrusted with keeping the delicate balance between the icy season’s beauty and its unforgiving harshness. You’ve grown up knowing that, as the next heir, the title of Winter Keeper will one day fall on you. Will you prove yourself worthy of the mantle, or will winter lose its way in your hands?Traits: Loyal, Outgoing, Lovebug (If not possible, use Romantic)Aspiration: Successful Lineage Goals:

Befriend at least three Sims who are “winter aligned” (traits like Loves Outdoors, Loner, or Creative, etc) and strengthen your bond by doing winter-related activities together at least once a week with one of them. If you have Get together, make a club with outlines relating to cold or festive activities. 

Find your soulmate in a winter setting (at a snow-covered lot or during a winter festival). Woo them with romantic gestures like snowball fights, outdoor stargazing, or ice skating. Have an outside wedding with them.

Ensure your child connects with winter traditions by maxing out a related skill before they become a young adult (e.g., Violin for haunting melodies, Charisma for storytelling, or Fitness for winter sports).

Challenge: Add at least one major improvement to the family’s estate if you haven’t already: build an outdoor skating rink, a winter conservatory, or a family mausoleum for past heirs.

Path 2: The Sun Seeker Backstory: You’ve always felt like an outsider in your family, your dreams of warmth clashing with their love for snow. After years of feeling stifled by the cold, you decide to take the boldest step of all: abandoning your family’s icy traditions and embracing a life of sun, freedom, and joy. But forging a new path is never easy, especially when your roots are steeped in frost. Traits: Child Of the Ocean, Outgoing, Foodie Aspiration: Beach Life (Angling Ace if you don't own IL) Goals:

Move to a tropical destination (preferably Sulani) and embrace the warm climate fully. Marry a local Sim and raise your family in the tropical paradise!

Max out the Fishing skill

Befriend the dolphins (Island Living) or form a club of locals to celebrate your new lifestyle.

Challenge:  Abandon all winter traditions. You can never celebrate Winterfest again. You must create a new summer holiday, or host a big party every Summer.

If you decide to take part, let me know by using #TS4WinterLC in your post! I hope to start this challenge in the next few days and share my progress ^.^

If you’d like to read it on a different platform, here’s the google doc!

I hope you have fun, stay warm, and happy simming everyone! ☃️

@ts4challengehub