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kydrogendragon · 1 year ago

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Dec 21 - The Best Present

(Ao3 Link) (Masterpost Link)

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Murder, and Blood.

When Hob awoke that next morning, nothing had seemed different. It seemed like a perfectly ordinary Monday morning that he wouldn’t have blinked twice at. You know, if it wasn’t for a mysterious woman sitting on his kitchen counter, slowly picking away at one of the apples in his fruit basket.

He jumps, reaching for the closest object he could use as a weapon - the table side lamp in this case - and brandishes it with a confidence that only someone who had fought for most of his five hundred years of life could. The woman doesn’t even blink. She wears all black, a simple black tee, black jeans, and a pair of high-heeled black boots. It reminds him a bit of the getups the goths he’d take home with him would wear. Most interesting of all, she wears a pendant of a large silver ankh around her neck.

She looks at him with kind brown eyes and smiles. “Hello Hob.” And if everything else hadn’t gotten his attention, that statement did. He lifts the lamp higher, angling his legs for better stability and glances around the room, trying to spot how the hell she managed to sneak in.

“Haven’t heard that name in a while,” he says, eyes narrowing. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The woman shakes her head, amused, as she slides off the counter. She sets down the half eaten apple and wipes her hands on her pants. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“A favor?”

She hums. “Yes. And it wasn’t until last night that I could ask it.”

Hob shakes his head. “The hell are you talking about?”

The woman steps forward and Hob’s grip on the lamp tightens. “One more step and you’ll regret it.” She smiles and takes a single step forward. As she does, Hob goes to lunge but stops as he meets her gaze.

Ice rushes through his veins as the very core of him recognizes her for what she is. She is the face he has seen in battlefields and hospitals. She is the voice that has called to him while he rests in the in-between of life and death. She is the sound of wings when one is near the end.

She is Death.

His knees give out and he falls to the floor, the lamp drops from his grip and the bulb inside shatters. “No. No no no no no, please no, please!” He pleads. “I’m not ready yet. I don’t want to die. I won’t, I won’t!”

Death kneels beside him and stretches out a hand. He flinches, eyeing it carefully. “I’m not here to take you, Hob. Not unless you want me to.”

“Never,” he replies, staring into her gaze. She nods.

“Good. I think my brother would hate me if I did.”

At that, Hob blinks. “Brother?”

Death hums and lets her hand fall. She crosses them, resting them atop her bent knees as she talks. “Yes. That’s why I’m here. I need you to help free him.”

Hob shifts, pulling himself into a cross legged position. “Why me?”

She looks up and sighs. “Because I can’t. Where he is is somewhere that I can’t go. Not completely. But you can.” She looks back at him and grins. “Besides, technically he asked for you.”

A sinking feeling fills Hob’s gut. Flickers of memories of a dream echo in his mind. The pale face of his Stranger. His tears, his silent pleas. His throat is tight when he asks, “Your brother, who is he?”

“Your stranger.”

The snow falls on the ground outside of Fawney Rig. It’s Christmas Eve in 1991 and Hob stands in front of the car’s boot as he goes over his tools of trade. A crowbar rests on one side, sandwiched by rope, an axe, a shotgun and two different handguns along with enough ammo to light the place up if needed. He’s got a variety of clothes and food and water in case his Stranger needed it along with a well supplied first aid kit. When Death had told him where to find her brother, she hadn’t exactly told him what to expect. He’s honestly unsure if she knew, other than he was trapped.

Christ, wasn’t that a thought? His Stranger, trapped. Held prisoner by a total jackass that, most annoyingly, he’d met before. Just once when he was a lad. His father had been leagues worse, but had at least hosted a party for his departed son. Hob had fought with Randal in the war. After digging into the Burgess's more, he’d found that the old man had bragged about capturing Death. Clearly that hadn’t worked, but it seems like he had caught something. And when the old man finally passed, it seemed like his son wasn’t any better. Pity. The boy seemed like he could have had a good heart in him. Nature versus Nurture, he supposed.

Hob pulls the mask down his face and zips up his jacket. He sticks the two handguns with freshly loaded mags into his holsters. He slots the extra mags into his belt and then swings the shotgun across his back. Not the most efficient weapon for this job, but might come in handy. The rest, he figures he can always come out and grab later if needed. There wouldn’t be anyone left alive in here after he was done anyways.

Closing the lid, he climbs back into the driver’s seat and revs up the engine. The metal gates in front looked thicker than they actually were. He’d checked ahead of time. They were made to look nice but not necessarily be effective at keeping someone out. For instance, ramming through them with a car would be pretty easy. Which is what he planned to do.

Back the car up a good distance on the curly driveway, he holds the gas and brake down, letting his wheels spin before he releases the brake. The car lunges forward, gaining speed rapidly. With a crash, the gates are flung open by the sturdy metal body of the vehicle. Hob powers up the remaining driveway to the front of the house. He skids to a stop right at the front of the manor and bounces out of the car.

A guard is posted outside and jolts awake from his chair. He reaches for his gun but is too slow. Hob quickly draws his right side handgun and pops the man twice. The silencer muffles the sound of the shot as the bullets hit him straight in the chest. Blood pools through the dark uniform. He falls to the ground.

Hob dashes up the stairs and pats the man down. He was hoping for keys or a radio perhaps of which he finds both. There aren’t many keys on the ring, but he takes them anyways. One most likely opens the front door after all. He slots the radio onto his belt and proceeds to go through the keys until one clicks the door open.

The house is quiet. It is late at night after all and all the house staff should be gone at this hour. Hob wasn’t a complete monster. He doubts that the maids and cooks were onto any of the occult proceedings here and if they were, well. Hob has ways of tracking people down if he needs to.

He creeps forward, gun poised and ready as he rounds the corners. The main floor is relatively empty. There was a single guard that had been wandering the halls. Hob takes him out from behind and guides his body to the ground as to not make a sound. There’s a different key on this guard’s key ring. It’s thick and sturdy. More importantly, it looks old. He takes it.

Hob finds a sturdy metal door down the next hallway - probably where the guard had come from in the first place - and tests the handle. Locked, unsurprisingly. He holds up the newly acquired key and smiles. Yes, that’ll work. As tempted as he is to barge down there and free his friend immediately, he knows he needs to eliminate anyone else first so they can escape without worry. Pocketing the key once more, he continues his search through the house.

The second floor provides even less interest. No guards and no Alexander or Paul either. The third floor, however, that’s a different tale.

Hob pops the guard stationed outside of the bedroom. The man had been sleeping in the chair just outside. For all the wealth that Burgess had, it seems like it was wasted on paying these men.

He nudges the bedroom door open and is met with the sleeping figures of the elderly men who had kept his friend captive all these years. Rage burns within him as it has for the past six months since Death first dropped by. He’d gone off of the limited information she had and slowly pieced together a harrowing puzzle of his friend’s absence. 1916 brought with it the sleepy sickness. 1916 brought Burgess into fame and fortune as his claims of the Devil in his Basement were spread, mostly with doubt. In 1916 his friend was forcibly ripped from whatever reality he resides in and has been kept in this dusty old manor ever since. And it was all because of the men here and his father before him.

Hob feels no guilt nor sadness when he draws his other gun, a revolver he’s favored for many years, and presses the cool barrel against Alexander’s forehead. The man stirs and Hob pulls back the lever with a click. His eyes open wide and he shakes as he takes in Hob’s looming figure. Alexander opens his mouth to speak but Hob just shakes his head. The other man’s jaw clamps shut.

“There is no bargaining. There is no begging. You’re going to die tonight and I’m going to tell you why. Then, I’m going to kill your husband in his sleep because while he wasn’t directly related to all of this, he was complacent, so I’ll give him the same courtesy I did the guards. Once that’s done, I’m dragging you out of your bed and into the damn basement that you’re holding my friend captive. You will scream and cry and plead like the pathetic excuse for a man I know you are while I slit your throat in front of him and the last thing you’ll see will be the greatest mistake of your miserable little life.”

Unsurprisingly, Alexander screams. The figure beside his shifts and Hob lifts the barrel of his gun up and fires it straight into the other man’s skull. The movement stills.

Hob holsters his gun and pulls the frail man from his bed by his hair as he continues to scream. He drags his body across the floor and out of the room. He drags him through the growing pool of blood from the guard stationed outside of their room and chucks him down the stairs just for the fun of it. Hob clambers down the stairs as Alexander cries and tries in vain to pull himself across the floor away from his own personal reaper. Reaching down, he grabs a fistful of the man’s nightgown and continues their trek to the basement.

The key fits like a glove and Hob pulls open the ancient heavy door. Alexander pleads with him, begging Hob to stop this, that he doesn’t know what he’s doing or what he’s freeing. He’s wrong, of course. Hob knows exactly who he’s freeing. He’s freeing his friend, even if the other man didn’t want to admit it.

The basement is cold. Much colder than the rest of the house and upon entering the windowless room, he’s pretty sure a part of that has to do with the bloody pools of water that surround...

Jesus wept... Hob wishes he could revive everyone just so he could kill them again. His Stranger sits in a damn ball of glass, suspended over the floor and worst of all, they’ve striped him down bare. There are metal spikes inside the fucking thing too so the poor sod can’t even lie down if he wanted. A flood of rage hits him again like a hammer. He barely processes his actions as he shoots the two guards to their right dead. He barely hears Alexanders screams and cries. Adrenaline courses through him as he approaches his friend.

His Stranger stands, hunched over because of course the damn thing is too short for him to even stand fully. His hands are pressed against the glass and his eyes are open wide. He mouths his name as a single tear falls down his face.

Hob jerks Alexander’s body forward, pushing him into a kneeling position, holding the man’s weak body up by his hair. He reaches down and pulls out the blade in his boot and presses it against the man’s neck, all the while, staring up at his friend.

“You made a mistake, Burgess. Your father made a grave one many years ago but he’s dead and unfortunately, I can’t kill a dead guy, much as I’d like to. But you didn’t do a damn thing. So now, I get to kill you.” Hob says, pressing the blade a bit harder. The skin underneath begins to break. Not enough to kill the man. It’s closer to that of a shaving cut, but it makes the man beneath him struggle against his hold.

“Please! Please, I beg of you, don’t do this! I didn’t want this!” Alexander pleads. “Please, I wanted to let him go, I did! I just wanted to be sure he wouldn’t come after me and Paul. Oh God, oh Paul.”

His Stranger’s eyes burn into him, those bright blue eyes seem to be lit from within as he watches intensely.

“But you didn’t let him go, did you? You didn’t do anything. You just left him here to rot. And you would have continued to do so until you died, wouldn’t you?” Hob’s voice is cold as steel as he tugs on the man’s hair.

“Oh God, no, please. I swear I never wanted any of this! This is all my father!”

“No. No these past few decades have all been you. You can’t blame your sins on a dead man. Not anymore. So now you’ll pay the price for trapping my friend down here like a goddamn curiosity display.”

“Please no! Plea-” The man’s cries are drowned out by the gurgling of blood as Hob swiftly slices through the man’s neck.

“A gift,” he says, staring up at his friend. “For you.” Hob tosses the man’s body off to the side. Blood pools up, spilling over his chest from the wound and out of his mouth. His eyes are wide with fear as he falls down to the side. His hands press against the slash, but it’s hopeless. It doesn’t take long for his movement to still.

Hob watches it. As Alexander Burgess dies on the cold concrete, the rage in Hob’s body fades with it, replaced with sadness and exhaustion. He turns to his friend who watches him, his mouth parted, almost in awe. He steps forward and examines the cage. There are some sort of runes painted into the floor that he assumes are important. He scratches his heel against them, testing their resilience only to be met with the easy smearing of golden paint.

Pathetic, Hob thinks to himself. They couldn’t even get high quality paint. He doesn’t have much time to think much else as he’s suddenly tossed backwards by a force stronger than anything he’d ever felt before. It was as if a bomb had gone off inside the cage and, looking up, he wonders if it did. The glass is party shattered and a whirlwind of… something, Hob’s honestly not sure what. Magical clouds? Sure, magical clouds. They swirl around his friend as he steps out of the cage, flowing black robes forming around his body as he sets foot on the ground. He steps forward and the clouds fade until it is just him, his friend, and the carnage around them.

Hob stumbles up to his feet and smiles as he walks over to his Stranger. He goes to ask if he needs anything, but he’s beaten to it.

“Hob Gadling,” His friend says with an easier smile than he’s ever seen on the man’s face. “You came. I did not think...”

“I’d always come for you. Especially if you need me.”

His friend’s eyes are red with the threat of tears. “How did you find me? I could not speak in your dream.”

“Your sister helped.” His friend’s eyes widened.

“My sister.”

“Yeah,” he says, adjusting his jacket from where it had gotten blown out of sorts from the magic blast. “Apparently something with that dream I had the other night let her ask me for help? She didn’t really explain, or give me all that much information, honestly, but she had given me the name Burgess. Took a bit to figure out where you were and get what I needed, but I wasn’t about to let you sit down here another day longer if I could help it.”

A tear falls down his friend’s cheek. “I owe you a great debt, Hob Gadling.”

“No debt owed. It’s what friends do after all,” he says, looking down at his blood stained boots.

A hand tugs him close and suddenly he is nearly nose to nose with his friend. There is an expression on his face, one that Hob can’t quite parse. “You would still name me friend after all you had said to me?”

“Wha-”

“You promised to woo me, after all. Was this not simply the start of it? Rescuing me like a blushing maiden in a fairy tale? Spilling blood in my name like a loyal knight to his king?” His friend purred. His eyes were hooded as he stared down into Hob’s eyes. He can see a dart of his pink tongue in his peripheral and Hob can feel the quickly growing erection pressing against the thick denim of his jeans. He’s glad his friend is holding onto him because he’s pretty sure if he hears his friend say another word with that voice, his knees are going to give out on him.

“Would you like that?” He asks, his breath growing short as his friend looks at him like he’d like to devour him. Hob swallows. “I would, you know. I did. I’d kill more for you, if you’d like. Whatever you want. It’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Such a wonderful gift, but a dangerous thing to promise. Are you certain?”

“Always,” he pants. His friend’s eyes flash, the blue swirling into blackness as he leans forward.

Lips capture his own and they are just as soft as he remembers from his dream. Oh God, yeah, his knees are giving out. Between the adrenaline of this whole evening and the magical bomb blast thing, this, right here, this is what’s going to have him killed.

He moans into his friend’s mouth and shakily grips into the silky robes he wears as he feels a smooth tongue curl inside of him. He’s not sure how long they stay there, but it’s long enough that Hob’s vision is turning black from the lack of air. Wouldn’t be the worst way to go, honestly. And he’s tempted to let it when his friend pulls back, but not far. Just far enough that Hob can take in a gasp of air.

“Fuck,” he wheezes as he struggles to maintain balance.

“That can be arranged,” his friend hums. Maybe Hob had died and this was actually heaven.

He hears his friend sigh, the air caressing his face. “I must return to my realm. It has been absent far too long.” His friend releases his hold on Hob and he mentally pats himself on the back for only stumbling, not collapsing. The upward curl of his friend’s lips sends Hob’s heart soaring again.

“Right,” he says as his brain comes back online. “Uh. Do you�� need a lift anywhere? Not sure I can drive to another realm, but I can get you out of this town at least.”

His friend shakes his head and tilts his head upward. His eyes dart around as if he’s searching for something unseen. “No,” he says, smiling a moment later. “No, I have found a means to return. But I will come back to you soon, Hob Gadling. This, I swear.”

His friend’s eyes are pitch black when they meet Hob’s gaze once more. It sends a chill down his spine and does nothing to help his aching prick. “Wait!” He calls out as his friend raises his hand. His Stranger arches his brow, but pauses his movement. “Before you leave, can I know your name, at least?”

His Stranger blinks. “My sister did not tell you it?”

Hob shakes his head. “Said it was your secret to tell, not hers.”

His Stranger huffs affectionately and raises his hand upward. With a smile, he says, “You may call me Dream.”

“Dream,” Hob whispers as he watches the figure of his friend fade away, not unlike the memory of a dream. He stands there, letting the mixed cocktail of emotions flow through him. Eventually, he moves, going through the motions of disposing of a crime scene (at least any evidence that would tie himself to it). Once all the damning bits are properly disposed of or at least brought with him to dispose of later, he makes his way back up the stairs, into his car, and heads back home, eagerly awaiting when his Stran- no - when Dream would visit him again.

#hob gadling #dreamling #dream of the endless #the sandman #ky writes #december writing list #kydrogen's december drabbles 2023

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townofcadence · 2 months ago

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bloodlustiing:

"Ohh there you go, isn't that sweet? Just like old times. Though I admit, it was more fun when you had all the room in the world to scream until you lost your voice, and nobody could hear you. Such a shame you went and destroyed my home, isn't it?" He squeezes down on a handful of intestines as he says the word home. Enough to cause pain, but not enough to rupture. It was a very delicate balance. "But don't worry, you will be rebuilding it in due time." His hand relinquishes its grip on Artair's intestines, but don't leave his body cavity. No, instead it continues and travels upwards inside, claws scraping across organs and tissue alike. Almost as if he's just playing with his insides, causing as much pain as he thinks he can get away with. At one point he even leans to reach farther up and in, careful to nudge things out of his way very tenderly so he can nudge at Artair's heart a few times-- just to make it spasm a little bit. But he doesn't linger there for long. In fact he's fairly quick to return to Artair's intestines and begin to pull them loose and even out of his body. Intestines were quite the fascinating things after all, capable of doing all this with sometimes only the barest of trauma. But Ares is intending a different sort of trauma with them. He takes the handfuls of guts and places them on Artair's chest, so that he may take hold of them soon. "Hm. It's really not as fun when you can't do much, is it? Tell you what…" His eyes flash, and he raises his finger to lick some of the blood off of its tip. He's released his holds on his toy. "Run. Try to get away."

"Hhhh-hhh-hhhhh....." Artair can't answer, not that he would if he could. But he does make a strangled noise as he feels hands inside, scraping and squeezing and doing all these things that hands shouldn't do inside a body, that his head can hardly fathom being done. He is still crying and he chokes, again and again as Ares hollows him out with his hands like he is a glorified pumpkin he's gutting.

There is a threat in what he says, but he hardly pays attention, except to the spike of pain that punctuates his words with the authority Ares desires. The sound he lets out is soft, but the whole of his body shows how much he feels it, as he all but splits in two by the spine with each tug, pull, squeeze, and scrape. He chokes when Ares' fingers press against his thundering heart, gasping and on the mismatched rhythm he forces.

He doesn't fully comprehend the situation, when his guts are freed and laid over him in handfuls. He certainly doesn't know how to respond when they are placed in loops that go in and out of him on his heaving chest. Ares says something, and his body goes entirely limp. His hand moves of its own volition. He can't focus.

"Wh---- -what...-?" He squeezes out the word, and it's louder than a whisper, by the barest degree. His eyes on Ares are wide.

That tells him all he needs to know. He grabs what Ares has spooled out of him and shakily pushes it back in through the horrific gash, rushing because Ares has never had much patience when he wants something. He rolls, and his single arm braces the ground before he tries to stand.

His legs bend wrong, they don't abide his desperation and he collapses back to the dirt in agony. His breath leaves him in a gust and pain burns in serrations at his knees. With a groan, Artair curls, hand splayed over the open wound in his stomach. All of him is pain right now. That's all that exists, each erratic pulse of his heart pulling it through all his veins and spilling it in his blood and tears.

But that's what he was made for.

And then his hand moves forward, taking a clump of damp grass. Rain pelts him and Ares and slakes the ground with mud, but even through that, Artair tries to crawl. His hips takes his weight and so does his shoulder and his arm grabs the earth to pull himself further along. How he even moves, he doesn't know. But it is something. He has to survive. He doesn't know how it is possible, but he has to.

#bloodlustiing #bloodlustiing. ares #cw gore #cw blood #cw horror #cw dark themes #cw injury #cw disembowelment #cw body horror #he's doing his best #rp #ic artair

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huffle-dork · 2 years ago

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College drabbles sound good!

(AN: I spent forever trying to find the initial ask for this but I’m pretty sure this was for a whump thing SO COLLEGE WHUMP IT IS!

Also btws! I’m slowly working through olddd requests so if you’ve sent one recently hang on! I’m trying to get to them as soon as I can!)

Jackie and Zara are sprawled out on the couch of Jackie’s flat, watching a cheesy movie they can half watch while they enjoy each others’ company.

Zara hums from where she’s laying on Jackie’s stomach. “Do you think he’s gonna win the competition?”

“Babe Imma be real honest- I have been dozing on and off for at least half the movie.” Jackie replies with a yawn, then shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“What?? But it’s a sequel to a movie from when we were kids! You suggested it!” Zara laughs, playfully hitting him.

Jackie snorts and grumbles, “t’was more fun when we were kids… now it has college pressure on it! it’s too real!”

“In the fictional animated movie about monsters-“

“In college like us, yeah!” Jackie says, thrusting his hand at the screen. “I love animated movies but don’t make me live my current pressure! I watch these for fun, Damnit!”

Zara laughs more before crawling up to press up on Jackie’s chest. She rests her chin on his collarbone and tiptoes her fingers up towards his cheek then boops his nose. “Well… I have other ideas on how to have some fun~!”

Jackie blinks owlishly but then grins, setting their snacks on the floor and then gripping Zara tight around the waist. He presses his forehead to hers and practically purrs, “Thank god Marvin is out for the night, huh?”

The raven haired girl giggles then pulls Jackie in for a kiss. Feels weird to be snogging during a children’s movie but hey- they weren’t really watching it anymore anyways.

Then, there’s a bang against the door that has the couple springing apart.

“What was that?” Zara asks.

“Dunno… Marvin said he’d be gone all night I thought-“ Jackie mumbles.

“…think it’s some of the boys asking for a late night rugby game?”

“Nah- pretty sure most are spending the nights with their girls too.” Jackie responds, untangling his legs from Zara’s and setting his feet down to go answer the door.

The doorknob starts to jangle and Jackie feels dread pool in his gut as he holds out a hand to protect Zara. He locked the door right?

The door unlocks and then slams open.

Marvin is leaning against it, pale in the dimly lit night behind him. He’s heaving like he’s having trouble breathing and his legs are shaking wildly. He looks up at the frightened couple, narrows his eyes at Zara and then pitches forward- collapsing to the floor with a dull thud.

“M-Marv!” Jackie cries as he hurries to his friend’s side and helps to lean him up against him. “The fuck did you do this time??”

Marvin coughs, looking sickly with how pale he is. Green and blue and hints of purple glowed in his veins and faintly in his eyes. He laughs weakly, grinning at Jackie. “New spells… w-was a good night for casting but I… I overdid it…”

Zara looked confused, “spells? I-Is he like… Wiccan?”

Jackie looks down and glares slightly at Marvin, raising a slight eyebrow. Marvin waves a lazy hand at him. “Half of campus thinks I’m a witch- I’m leaning into it now…”

He suddenly winces and grabs at his shoulder and when Marvin pulls away his hand, it’s covered in blood.

Jackie startles, “J-Jesus Christ Marvin! What did you do?”

“I miscalculated,” The magician grumbled, holding his shoulder. “I was too eager on my first try… g-got it eventually though!”

“H-Here! I’ll go get the first aid kit!” Zara calls out, rushing down the hall to the bathroom.

“Thanks, love!” Jackie calls back. Then he looks down at Marvin and huffs out. “Marv… you said you were gonna join like… a coven or magic circle for these advanced spells! There’s a reason magicians tend to work in teams… you can’t do everything by yourself.”

“Don’t lecture me on magic, Jackie.” Marvin snaps, trying to push himself up. “I’m the one who’s magic- not you.”

“And yet I research and learn! Because you’re too stubborn to actually get outside your own head! There’s all this stuff set in place for a purpose Marvin! I may not be magic but I-it makes sense! You have support if there’s a backfire- resources and spell ingredients and people who actually know what they’re doing who can-!”

“I know what I’m doing!” Marvin bites back, pushing into Jackie’s face. “I don’t need old crones stuck in their ways teaching me about my birthright! I don’t need condescending assholes like my fucking father critiquing me on my form or pronouncation-! All I need is me! I have all the knowledge I need- all the power I need!”

He grabs Jackie’s hand and grips it tight, green building back up in his eyes as he grins. “See I’ll- I’ll show you! What I learned tonight… teleportation! Solo! No fucking giant circles of judging eyes needed!”

Jackie’s eyes widen, “wait that’s how you got hurt? M-Marvin please wait, you need to rest-!”

Marvin rolls his eyes, “c’mon Jackie! Where’s your sense of adventure? Don’t tell me you’re getting soft on me! It’ll be a quick zip and back then you can go back to snogging your girlfriend.”

Jackie’s face turns bright red, “w-we were not!”

Marvin laughs and then smiles warmly at his friend, “just focus on me. You know I wouldn’t hurt you, right?”

“…not on purpose-“

“Accidents don’t count, shush.”

Marvin builds up sparks of green and purple around their interlocked hands and he breathes slowly, closing his eyes. He still needed a bit of help so he chants the spell's words under his breath, flashes of runes vibrating around his hands. Jackie watches nervously-

Until Zara runs back in, holding the first aid kit. “G-Got it! And a couple other things I didn’t know what we were dealing with-“ She blinks at the magic vibrating around their closed hands and she screams and drops the supplies.

“H-Holy fucking shit!”

Jackie and Marvin both startle and Jackie tries to explain, “Zara it’s okay he’s just-!”

Then, Marvin spits out the last word, sending spears of hate towards Zara with his glowing eyes. He expected to take him and Jackie away in a flash of light- but instead…

Marvin disappears into light- and Jackie cries out, his back stiffening as his eyes fill up with purple light. Then, he collapses to the ground.

Zara feels frozen for a second- trying to understand what just happened. Then, she frantically runs towards Jackie and tries to lift up his face from the ground. “Oh my god! Jackie? J-Jackie wake up! Please love- what is going on?!”

Jackie is still for a second before he slowly blinks open his eyes. But… they’re wrong. They’re glowing green.

His eyes spring open and then he slaps Zara away and scrambles back, eyes wide and magic zipping around him. “D-Don’t touch me!” He spits. It still sounds like Jackie but… Jackie wouldn’t say that- not to Zara.

Zara’s face falls and she holds her hands to her chest. “What…? Jackie I… I don’t understand- what happened? Are you okay? Where’s Marvin?”

Jackie is massaging his head and then snaps out at Zara, “What are you talking about? Are you blind? I’m right here-“

Jackie’s eyes slowly widen as he goes to look down at himself and then he seems to pale.

“….oh my god- I- I’m in Jackie’s body-“

“You’re what?!” Zara shouts out.

Jackie scrambles to his feet and snaps, bursts of magic zipping out and Marvin sighs in slight relief. “Okay still have magic- okay… okay-“ He tries to reason with himself. He seems to be looking at his hands, twisting and turning them over like he’s studying them. Stretching his fingers like he’s getting used to them.

Zara climbs to her feet too, “hello?? Marvin? Do you mind explaining what the hell is happening? Or am I just supposed to be okay with you possessing my boyfriend like some kind of evil ghost-!”

“Would you be quiet?!” Marvin suddenly booms, eyes turning pure purple. Zara backs away- slight fear in her eyes.

Marvin’s face drops and the power dies down before he shakes out his head and looks away. “Sorry I… I just can’t concentrate- I’m trying to fix this! I didn’t do this on purpose I- I was trying to show him a teleportation spell! And I need to figure out why this happened so I don’t accidentally do it again! Cuz believe it or not- I don’t want to randomly possess people!”

Zara is quiet for a second before nodding. “…okay… just… is he okay? Jackie…? I’m sorry I… I don’t understand what’s going on… I didn’t know magic was even real until… 5 minutes ago-“

Marvin sighs and pushes back his hair. It’s weird to see. Jackie doesn’t usually do that gesture to fix his hair. It was like running a PlayStation game on a wii. Similar but… not compatible.

“…Jackie’s fine. Just… startled. Confused too. He… he trusts me though. I just… need you to trust me too. Just for a second.” Marvin meets Zara’s eyes and the girl slowly nods.

She always found Marvin a bit creepy and off-putting. But only cuz he was such a social recluse… and was hard to talk to. She didn’t hate him… but maybe she was judging him too harshly through all of this.

“Be on standby though to… catch him. I have no idea how this is gonna play out…” The magician mumbles.

He closes his eyes and flares out his fingers at the side, reciting more magic words under his breath. Magic zips around him as the power builds. Zara inches away, watching in awe.

Finally, the magic seems to spilt the image of Jackie in two- and then a blast of green shoots out across the living room and crashes into the wall. Jackie’s body starts to crumble back towards the ground and Zara is quick to catch him. She then looks back towards the wall.

With Legs in the air and back on the floor lays Marvin, dazedly looking up at the ceiling as the world dips and spins around him.

“A-Are you okay??” Zara calls out. Marvin shakily gives her a thumbs up.

She sighs in relief and then rolls over Jackie and lightly taps his cheek. It takes a second but slowly Jackie’s eyes flutter back open, his light blue eyes back to normal. He dazedly looks up at Zara. She smiles at him.

“Welcome back, love.”

“…did I go somewhere? Marvin’s spell worked…?” Jackie mumbles in confusion. Zara sighs and then rubs Jackie’s cheek.

“…I think we have a lot to talk about… why don’t we go patch up Marvin and then settle in for the night?”

“…mkay…”

#swapboys #SwapBoys requests #college flashback #swap magnificent #jackie mann #Zara Caley #body swap #body possession #trying to flesh out how magic works here #but Marvin is stubborn and likes to do stuff himself so jfgfh #feels weird to write Mag as Marvin cuz he hates that name now XD #super fun to write tho and more insight to how Marvin is just a lil bit fucked up hfgf #readswapboys

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battinscn · 3 years ago

Text

𝘁𝘄𝗼

< 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾

✧·ﾟ:*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈

⌜𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐊⌟

✧·ﾟ:*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧·ﾟ: *✧

𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗮 𝗿𝗼𝗱𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗼

𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦

"𝐘/𝐍?"

tom reached out his arm to grab y/n's, but she flinched before his cold skin could come in contact with hers.

tears of fear started leaving her eyes as she let out painful cries.

y/n only took a step back in response, "please. don't hurt me," the h/c girl begged in a shaky voice.

tom had been brought up thinking he could never love. but he felt that he loved y/n. well. even if he wasn't truly in love with her, he certainly felt something for her.

be it the sense of possessiveness he felt over the dear girl or the fact he wanted to protect her from anything horrid in the world.

especially mudbloods. he was doing this all for her. eliminate the impurities in the wizarding world so that they could live happily forever.

he was shattered, that the girl he had slowly learned to love, was afraid of him.

"y/n, i'd never hurt you," tom looked to the girl in desperation.

"why?" y/n croaked softly, "why are you doing this? why tom why?" the low whisper turned into yells.

"can't you see i'm doing this for you? for us! i love you so so much y/n, we can have our happy ever after!"

"no you don't riddle!"

tom's face fell. not once has y/n ever called him by his surname.

"this isn't love! you don't get to say you love me when this is how you express it! i don't even know who you are anymore!" y/n cry-yelled.

the frustration and anger brewing in tom had awoken the serpent.

the serpent was now right next to y/n, she could feel its eyes pierce through her.

her legs felt as if they were going to give up on her. her whole body shook as she knew what the sadistic beast was capable of.

"don't move." tom instructed.

even though the last thing y/n wanted to do right now was to follow his command, she pushed her pride aside as did as told.

tom started speaking in parseltongue to the serpent, "she means no harm, she is with us."

the serpent had seemed to obey tom, and its demeanor turned calm.

y/n and tom took a breath of relief.

but before anything else could happen, the serpent lunged forward, fangs out at y/n.

tom, being an exceptional wizard, pulled out his wand and immediately shot a spell at the monster. at this, the serpent fell right at y/n's feet.

y/n let out the most blood-curling scream and fell onto her knees.

tom rushed to the girl, whose arm was dripping in blood.

"it hurts, it hurts so much," y/n whined.

"fuck. hold on i'll get us out of here," tom was trying to scoop y/n up.

"tommy," y/n groaned, but tom was too focused on getting his girlfriend out of the chamber to notice her call for him.

"tom!" she said louder this time, grasping his attention, "it's waking up, the thing is waking up," y/n used her good arm to point at the serpent which was slowly waking up.

"shit." tom cursed once again, "go," tom helped y/n up so she was on her feet.

"but tommy..."

"i said go y/n." he shouted, "go to my dorm, there's a vial of phoenix tears, take it," tom pushed y/n in the direction of the snake pillared corridor.

using one hand to support her injured arm, she sprinted out the metal door. she continued running as far as she could, adrenaline pumping through her veins.

she stopped running when the tunnel split into two ways.

shit. she'd forgotten which side she had come from. but something in her gut was urging her to go left, and that was what she did.

after what felt like an eternity, she saw light at the end of the tunnel.

perfect. just a few more steps then she'd be back in the girls' lavatory.

when she stepped out of the tunnel into the light, she realised she was in fact not in the second-level bathroom, but instead outside of the castle.

the black lake right in front of her.

there was almost a voice, enticing her to go into the water. an invisible force slowly pulling her towards the waters.

before she knew it, y/n was waist-deep in the black lake. she stared at the calming and serene waters, the peaceful environment distracted her from the excruciating pain she was currently feeling in her right arm.

then, she felt a tug in her foot, and before she could react, she got pulled into the water.

she tried to swim up to the surface to gasp for air but the tugging by her feet didn't seem to stop.

she got pulled further and further into the lake.

the last thing y/n felt was the burning sensation of water feeling her lungs, then darkness.

malfoy was finishing up his prefect rounds for the night by the black lake when he saw y/n's body floating on the surface.

without hesitation, the blonde dived into the water and grabbed the girl, pulling her back to land.

he laid y/n flat on the grass, shaking her to try to get her awake, but to no avail.

he pressed two fingers on her neck, there was still a pulse.

he was frantic, unsure of what to do.

mdm pomfrey was not in hogwarts for the whole week, she was conducting a training course at st mungo's.

and so, he did the only thing he could think of.

bring the girl to the potions professor.

hogwart's potions professor was an expert healer, he had self-taught himself when he was a young boy.

carrying the unconscious girl bridal style, malfoy brought her through the halls and to the dungeons.

"professor! professor!" malfoy kicked the classroom door to knock it.

"mr malfoy, i would appreciate it if you didn't cause such a ruckus so late in the nigh-" the professor opened the door, stopping mid-sentence when he saw the blonde boy holding a girl in his arms.

"she was lying unconscious in the black lake. she's got a pulse but i didn't know what else to do. mdm pomfrey isn't in this week and i know you're a good healer so thought i could bring her to you," the young prefect rambled.

"malfoy, breathe. set her on the table." the potions professor stepped aside to allow the two to enter.

the boy placed y/n face up on the teacher's table. the professor was unable to identify the girl since her face was covered in dirt and scratches, her messy hair tangled over her face.

however, her robes showed she belonged to slytherin house.

the potions master grabbed a few potions off the locked cabinet and administered them to y/n.

y/n eyes shot open, she immediately sat up, coughing out water. when she finally caught her breath, she tucked her hair behind her ears.

she lifted her head up and made eye contact with malfoy and the professor.

"professor snape, is she okay now?" the blonde boy asked the older man.

𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 >

reply to be in the taglist <3

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x reader #draco malfoy fanficiton #angst #draco malfoy series #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco angst #draco malfoy angst #slythern reader #draco malfoy fanfic #draco fanfic #metanoia

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aitarose · 4 years ago

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THE THEORY OF US (H. IWAIZUMI) pairing: iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

synopsis: crushes are always inevitably revealed, whether through confessions or actions—however, you never thought you’d finally get the chance to make iwaizumi hajime yours during one of your many study sessions in the empty mathematics classroom.

word count: 1.3k

genre: high school, mutual pining, fluff, based on me hating my math class and not wanting to take my test, unedited

warnings: suggestive content, making out?

notes: hey sexcs, i wrote all of this during that speed write and this is completely not proof read at all bc im tired and want to fall asleep—but here’s what i have lmao

↳ DIRECTORY

There was a way in the posture of his stance, how he stood over the desk, hand supporting his body while staring down at your paper—deep veins protruding out of his skin, his muscles stiff as his concentration stayed on you and only you. It was like he was an addiction, something that you knew you couldn't have but just so wanted to taste—have a small bite of what was Iwaizumi Hajime, and never let go.

However, as the two of you were alone in the empty classroom, going over the questions that you had gotten incorrect on your last quiz, trying to find solutions that apparently he could solve—as the highest-ranking member of the class—all your mind could pay attention to was the feeling of his breath on the back of your neck. How it made shivers run up the back of your spine, heartbeat racing as a need inside of you grew into something worthwhile. Something that you just couldn't ignore.

"Iwa." You sighed, closing the textbook and placing your hand over his—the dainty fingers touching the calloused palms, noticing how rough and patched they were, wishing that you could hold them all of the time—walk through the hallways as his girl, as the person that was his and only his. "We've been at this for an hour now—if we're ever going to make any progress, it won't be today. My brain is practically fried."

He sighed, bringing his arm up and running a hand through the mess of hair on the top of his head. Brown locks falling just above his eyebrows as his eyes narrowed on you—determination at the tip of his tongue. "No," he shook his head, believing that he was capable of getting you that perfect score, that one-hundred percent in the class. "I can help, Y/N. Just trust me, okay? If anyone's going to help, it's going to be me."

With his words, you nodded—having been in somewhat of a trance in the deepness of his gaze, blood rushing hot whilst he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, squeezing you quickly and reopening the notes. You bit your lip, having him so close—a mere ruler length away from your body was torture, it was completely threatening to every sense of rationality in your brain.

He was your tutor, that person that was trusted to keep your grades up—to make sure that you succeeded in class and didn't lose your perfect GPA—but he was also Iwaizumi. He was that boy who'd hold the door open for students in the halls even if he was running late for class. The type of guy to always remember your birthday when you're only acquaintances and get you a small little gift for the special occasion.

If there was any perfect guy in the world, any boy that neared your perfect match—it was him.

So, knowing that you might never get the opportunity again, that you may never be as close as you are now—as close as two platonic friends could be—you took his palm in yours and asked him the simplest question that any girl could say to the guy of her dreams. "Can I kiss you?" A little stutter spoke in your voice, nerves wracking your mind and fear in your eyes as he froze mid-sentence, trailing off on the probability theory that you'd been working on.

There was a bit of hesitation in his stature, a weary nature that you hadn't quite seen before—it was frightening, the unexpected, whatever could come as a result from that one question. From that one single chance that you'd decided to take. "What did you just say?" He looked up, eyes on yours, hand still beneath the softness of your skin as you gulped. Before you could even respond, Iwaizumi took matters into his own hands—grabbing your cheeks and surging forwards, pressing his lips to your own.

It felt like ecstasy, him kissing you. If heaven was real in any way, this would be what it'd feel like to live there. To feel the wonders of pure paradise all of the time, twenty-four-seven in absolute bliss—no worries in the air, just utter happiness, and sensuality. He was your match, the person that you'd always wanted, and now you finally had him—you finally had him above you, tilting your head up with his pointer beneath your chin as his mouth moved with yours.

"Iwa." You attempted to say between kisses, breaths heavy and harsh, heart pounding out of your chest as he pulled away—eyes wide and lust-filled. "Iwa are you sure about this? I don't want you doing anything you're uncomfortable with." You folded your hands in your lap, watching as he sat back into the desk beside yours, falling into the chair as he once again ran his fingers through his tangled hair.

After a moment of silence, a smile overtook his face—a bright and wonderful beam of joy directed towards you—directed towards you and only you. "C'mere." He patted his knee, gesturing for you to come closer, to join him in the small and cramped space—to which you obliged. After all, what were you going to do? Ignore him? This was Iwaizumi Hajime we were talking about, Seijoh's esteemed ace. In no world would you ever ignore his wants and needs.

Immediately, his grip found your waist. Holding it with force as he settled you into his lap—connecting your lips once more as a gasp escaped your throat, surprised by the aggression that he was showing, surprised by how much he seemed to want you. As you carried on, heated and heavy with lust and attraction, infatuation in the middle of your high school mathematics classroom—his lips began to trail down.

It was everything you ever wanted, him peppering showers of love off of your jaw and neck—softly sucking and nipping, leaving small bruises on the pinkness of your skin—marks that you'd have a hell of a time figuring out how to cover up after all this was over. "Oh my god." You moaned out, arms holding his head to your body, making sure that he wasn't going to let go anytime soon. "Keep going. Keep going, Iwa."

He paused, disobeying your demands and taking a quick glance up at your face. You were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, how you closed your eyes at his touch, mouth gaped open and gasping for air—it was a sight that he never wanted to get tired of, a sight that he'd been wanting to see for months now as you sat beside him in class. "Call me Hajime." He nodded, referencing the former title that you'd known him by. "You can call me Hajime, Y/N."

A light flush rose to your cheeks at the sound of your promotion, knowing that this meant that this wasn't going to be a one-time thing—that this could potentially be the start of a relationship, a long and lasting relationship between the two of you that could one day result in love. Love that you'd dreamed of since setting eyes on the brunette boy. "Then keep going, Hajime." Your eyes narrowed, challenging him to continue, challenging him to satisfy the needs you both were striving to complete.

With your wishes granted he cupped your face, hands covering the skin of your red blossoms and molding his mouth over yours for the third time that afternoon—biting the bottom of your lip and moving his tongue with your own. He was an exceptional kisser, that was for certain. There was no one in your past that even came close to how fantastic he'd already begun to make you feel—no past relationship that held a candle to the butterflies that grew in your stomach when he was around.

The butterflies that were the first of many, the first of millions on millions of jitters and nerves that would always arise with him. A relationship that was one of the books—all beginning in this small math classroom, with one question and one kiss that led to an infinite amount to follow. Your future was Hajime, and his future was you.

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ikeromantic · 4 years ago

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A Very Hot Bath

A (not so) mini-fic for @cinnamon-hoe featuring my favorite gentleman vampire, le Comte de Saint-Germain. For my 400 follower celebration! It turned out longer and smuttier than intended. I’m . . . sorry? Approx 2000 words.

April, le Comte, Spicy and Sweet

If there was one thing le Comte knew, it was how to read a woman’s moods. And his mademoiselle was an easy study. For example, today, she lingered at each shop window and walked slowly, a clear sign that she wasn’t ready to go home despite the dreary rain and chill weather. “Ma cherie,” he said, leaning down to speak so that he didn’t need to raise his voice above the patter of the rain on their umbrella.

“Mmm?”

“This weather is certain to get worse. If you want to stay in town a bit longer, perhaps a cafe?”

She smiled. “A cafe would be nice. Hot tea, something sweet . . .”

“I knew you’d agree.” He stroked her hand with his thumb. He pretended to consider his next idea, though he’d already decided on it. “After, let’s get a room. There’s a lovely home in this district that once belonged to a friend of mine.”

“Do you think it will be alright to leave everyone on their own for a night? Without you there to keep them in line . . .” She laughed.

Comte grinned. “Sebas will hold the fort while we enjoy our evening. Besides, it’s been too long since I had you all to myself.” His golden eyes were molten hot when he spoke, testament to the truth of his words.

“I’d like to - to have you all to myself too.” She turned her head to kiss his cheek, but he was too quick for her. He caught her lips in a kiss, pulling her tight against him. She gave a breathy moan, silenced by his mouth, that made him want her more. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one that hadn’t wanted to go home today.

When he finally released her, she was breathless, glassy-eyed, and pink-cheeked. “We’re in public,” she gave a half-hearted protest, belied by the way she leaned closer and licked her lip.

“That is why I stopped when I did.” He smiled.

She gave a little pout and turned back to look in the shop window. “Is this where you got my little purse? The beaded one?”

Comte nodded. “It is.”

“Can we go in? I’d love to see what they out for this season. If - if that’s alright. We don’t need to buy anything.”

His cherie was always so worried about what he spent on her, as if somehow she could dent his wealth. He’b buy the entire shop just to see a smile on her face. “As you like, ma belle.”

They went in and handed off their coats and umbrella to the doorman. The shop owner recognized le Comte and came out to greet him, stumbling over his courtesies. Comte did his best to put the man at ease while his love wandered the shop, looking first at the ready-mades and samples, and then at the material samples.

Despite her insistence that they not buy anything, he kept an eye on where she lingered and what she touched. A woman could never have too many purses. After he reassured the shop owner that, of course he would be placing an order - he hurried to her side.

“Did you see these,” she asked, pointing to some delicate red beads. “They are garnets but they look like drops of blood when they catch the light.” She shivered and touched her neck.

Comte didn’t miss the spot her fingers found. The last little love-nip he’d given her faded there, barely visible even to his keen eyes. “I think they’d look gorgeous paired with your ivory gown.”

She shook her head. “No - it’s just- there are so many beautiful things and I just like to look at them. It makes me happy just to see them.”

“That must be why I can’t take my eyes off you. There is nothing more beautiful anywhere in this world.” He took her hand and ran his fingertip along her wrist, tracing the vein beneath. He could feel the warmth of it there through her skin.

Her eyes closed for a breath at his touch. “Ah, you can’t say things like that.” She laughed softly. “Besides, I’m not anything special. I’m glad you think so though.”

Comte kissed the tip of her nose. “You are humble too.”

Her tummy growled at exactly that moment, and she blushed crimson from the neck up. “Ah, and hungry? How far is it to that cafe?”

“It’s close. Why don’t you get your coat and the umbrella. I’ll be along in a moment.”

“You aren’t buying me anything, are you?”

“Ma cherie! You wound me.”

Her look told him she wasn’t buying that bland denial.

“I promise that I will not purchase these beads for you. A direct promise - and you know I don’t break my word.” He kissed her hand. “Now hurry along. I need a word with the shop owner.”

She raised an eyebrow but lost the expression when his lips touched the skin on the back of her hand. If there was another thing le Comte knew how to do, it was how to make his belle giddy. And he enjoyed doing it.

After she hurried over to get their things, Comte placed an order for a new purse and matching shoes using the brocade she’d lingered over and some matching blue beading and pearls. It would look gorgeous with the dress he’d commissioned for their country trip.

Comte was nearly done with the specifications when a shout got his attention. The door to the shop was open, a young gentleman on his way in. But his love was darting out into the rain. He hurried after.

“I’m so sorry, monsieur. When I opened the door, the lady’s umbrella caught a gust of wind. She’s run after it . . .” The gentleman looked perplexed.

“Yes, she’s quite impulsive,” Comte smiled. It was one of the things he loved about her. She didn’t plan or plot - she rushed headlong into life, full of joy and hope. It made her even more beautiful.

“That poor girl will be soaked to the bone,” the gentleman sighed. “If you know her, can you pass on my apology?”

“Of course,” Comte grabbed his coat and swept past. Outside, the rain was still falling in tiny chill droplets, the kind that made quick work of even heavy wool. They got under it and soaked you through, right down to the soles of your feet.

He could see her a little way down the street, running after the umbrella as the wind tugged it along. Her hair was already stuck to her scalp and her clothes were dripping. It took him only a moment to catch up.

“Quick, Comte! Catch it,” she shouted, pointing.

It was too late though. An updraft between buildings caught the fabric and the umbrella shot up and caught on a roof tile.

She turned and looked at him with big eyes. “I lost our umbrella.”

“It’s alright, ma cherie. Our lodgings are close.” Comte lifted her up and tugged his overcoat up to cover her head. “How is that? Are you a little drier?”

“Mmm, I don’t know about dry but you are so warm.” She slid cold hands against his chest and snuggled close.

Comte smiled. “And you are very cold. I should hurry or you’ll get sick. Then I’ll be forced to nurse you back to health.”

“Promise?”

He laughed. “I don’t know, ma belle. If you are looking forward to it, I should threaten you with something else. I don’t want you to get sick.”

Ahead, he could see the lights of his friend’s estate - though it was now a waystop for ambassadors and dignitaries, and his friend long dead. He knocked at the door, and when it opened, they were ushered in.

Given their soggy state, the staff wasted no time getting them into a fine room and drawing a hot bath. The maid offered to stay for any needs they might have, but Comte shooed her out. And then he was finally alone with his dearest.

She was shivering in her wet clothes, bare feet burrowed into plush carpet. Her teeth were chattering, though she tried to hold them still with a clenched jaw. Such a stubborn beauty.

Comte crossed to her. “Come now, let’s warm up.” He undid the tie on her flange and let the little capelet fall to the floor. Then began on the buttons, his fingers moving swiftly down.

“I c-can d-d-do it m-myself,” she chattered, and reached for the buttons.

Ever the gentleman, Comte dropped his hands. “As you like, ma cherie.” He gave her a wide smile, one reminiscent of the predator that he was beneath the civilized veneer. “I am eager to see you without.”

She blushed and began to undo the buttons on her own. Her cold-numbed fingers were much too slow for le Comte’s liking but he was a patient man. Most of the time.

Instead of watching her, he saw to his own soggy clothes. His jacket and vest, his scarf. He undid his shirt and draped it on a chair to dry. Then he began to unbuckle his belt but stopped at a breathy gasp from his beauty. Comte looked up to see her wide-eyed and watching him.

The hungry look in her eyes would have made any predator proud. As if she was considering eating him up.

“Ma cherie?”

She blushed and looked down. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

“You misunderstand, ma belle.” He closed the distance between them and lifted her chin to look her in the eye. “I want you to watch. You looked like you were enjoying it.”

She licked her lips and nodded. “Y-yes, but -”

He stepped back and finished with the buckle. Then with a duelist’s grace, he slipped his trousers off and set them on the chair. All that remained between him and the open air was a thin layer of cotton. Comte crooked a finger. “Ma cherie? Perhaps you could help me with this drawstring?”

“H-help?” She looked down at her slip, the last bit of clothing between her and the hot bath. I - I was about to -”

“I’m terrible with these knots.” Which was, of course, a lie. An egregious one. If she refused, it gave him plenty of space to laugh it off. But she didn’t. She walked forward and reached toward him tentatively. Her hands slid down his chest, caressing his belly and sides. Stopping at the top of his hip. It sent an electric shiver through him and suddenly, he very much wanted the rest of their clothing off. It put too much space between them. Entirely too much.

Her fingers slipped under the top hem, pushing the fabric down.

The sensation made Comte gasp. “My bold cherie!”

“Mmmm, turns out I’m bad with knots too,” she teased. Her fingertips danced over his low belly, stopping just above the rise of fabric and below his belly button. She slid her other hand over the top of the fabric and he groaned. “I’m not sure I can take these off you . . .”

A true gentleman, Comte reflected, would take the teasing with a sigh. But he was no true gentleman. He reached for the tie and in a heartbeat, that last shred of fabric dropped to the floor. He could feel her cool, silk slip against his belly and before he could consider it, Comte had tugged it off her and tossed it away.

“I thought you were a patient man,” she giggled.

“Not when it comes to you, ma belle.” He pulled her against him, his hot flesh to her cold skin. Even like this, she felt of heaven to him. The closest to the divine he’d ever reached. He wanted to be in her, to devour her, to taste every part of her.

Comte’s hands cupped her and lifted her up, hip to hip.

She threw her arms around him, still laughing. “What will you do to me now, you beast?”

“Nothing you don’t want me to,” he purred. He might have said more, but she nipped the skin at his neck and suckled it. An imitation of the vampire’s kiss. It destroyed what was left of his composure, though he had enough control to carry her to the bath and climb into it.

Hot water splashed over them as he sat, holding her tight in his lap. She gasped at the sensation, the sudden warmth and wetness. Then she grinned at him wickedly. “Should I be your bath maid, noble sir? I can wash your back. And all your hard to reach places.” One of her hands went under the water, seeking - and finding - his achingly hard shaft.

Comte inhaled sharply at her touch - and her boldness. “I - I,” he cleared his throat, trying to hold to words and coherency. “I think . . . we shall . . . be much d-dirtier . . . in this b-bath.”

She raised an eyebrow. “A dirty bath? You’ll have to show m-”

Her speech stopped mid-word as he leaned forward and took a nipple in his mouth, scraping it lightly with his teeth before suckling and stroking with his tongue. If she wanted to find out how filthy bathtime could be, he had every intention of teaching her. In detail.

#Ikemen Vampire #ikevamp le comte #le comte de saint germain #ikemen comte #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #spicy #Smut

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nagipops · 4 years ago

Text

SWEET NOTHINGS, BITTER ENDINGS PART II.

SUMMARY: in which your precious life is ended through a cruel twist of fate by your beloved brother.

WARNINGS: blood, profanity + SPOILERS for KNY chapter 115

A/N: link to part one.

He heard a deafening roar cry out from a distance away as crows frantically flapped out of the trees and into the sky above.

A demon?

Sheathing his blade, the hashira began to sprint to the source of the noise coming from the east.

The first scent he picked up on was blood. It was faint, but it was there. But it wasn’t demon blood.

Human blood?

As he continued to travel east, heart racing, he heard crashing up ahead and quickly dove into a nearby bush to scout out the intruder. Narrowing his eyes, he spotted a flash of pink and green. Mitsuri?

He cautiously searched the area for any signs of demons before following after the pink haired girl.

“Kanroji!” he barked as the girl’s head perked up at the sound of her name. She whipped around, her green eyes lighting with relief.

“Sanemi!” She bounded over to him, grasping his shoulders tightly with shaking arms. "Sanemi, where did (Y/N) go? Did you meet up with her?"

His veins turned to ice. The human blood he smelled. The spine-chilling roar he heard.

Sanemi opened his mouth to speak, but all he could manage was a petrified shake of his head.

The light green eyes facing him widened with fear. "Oh, god... oh god oh god oh god..." She snapped out of her horrified trance as another pained howl pierced through the midnight air and her eyes locked with the wind hashira's once more. Steeling their gazes, the two pillars sped off to the direction of the noise.

If there was one thing Sanemi wished to erase from his memory forever, it would be the sight of his mother, a feral demon ripping her own children to shreds with her own fangs and claws.

If there was another thing Sanemi wished to erase from his memory forever, it would be the horrific scene splayed out in front of him.

Thick ash billowing into the air. The rancid stench of rotten flesh and blood.

The sight of his little sister crouching on the ground.

With pearly white skin.

With raking, hooked claws.

With red, watery eyes.

With glinting ivory fangs.

With the scent of a demon flowing from her body, her limbs, her breaths,

Her blood.

The wind hashira stood paralyzed to the ground, mortified at what he was seeing with his own two eyes.

His little sister.

A demon.

This couldn’t be happening. Not again.

“S-sanemi...” a soft whisper sounded from his right. He slowly turned his head to find the love hashira’s horrified gaze locked onto the demon in front of her. “She’s— she...”

Mitsuri began to collapse to the ground, but not before Sanemi could wrap his arms around her frail, trembling body, his mouth still agape.

“What do we do?” she whimpered weakly, still staring in shock at her sister— no, the demon in front of her. “Sanemi, what do we—”

“I don’t know!” he snarled, vengeance and frustration bubbling within his body. Not again. This was not happening to him again. Setting down the girl onto her feet, shuddering hands moved to the sheath of his blade. “She’s— she’s a demon. We... we have to.”

“No!” Mitsuri cried, tackling him to the ground. “Stop! She’s our sister!”

Sanemi clenched his teeth with such resentment that you could hear them scraping against each other. “You think I don’t know that?!” he shouted at his comrade, his harsh voice breaking in his throat. “You think I want to do this?!”

Tears spilled from the green eyes hovering over him, but no words escaped her lips. Her head shook softly, unable to grasp the fact that this was reality. This was real. This wasn’t some cruel nightmare. Her sister was a demon.

Mitsuri fell to the ground as the white-haired pillar shoved past her shoulder, drawing his blade as he stared down the growling demon in front of him.

“(Y-Y/N)...” His knuckles turned white as he gripped the handle of his sword, gritting his teeth. “You idiot...”

Just then, a flash of purple materialized in front of him and the scent of flora clouded his senses.

“Shinazugawa-san,” the lilting voice warned. “Please step back.”

Sanemi growled, his furious eyes clouding with the urge to shove away the small girl in front of him.

An iron grip suddenly clutched at the sleeve of his haori.

“Stop.” The wind hashira heard the voice he loathed so much speak resolutely into his ear.

“Piss off!” he barked, snapping his arm to release it from the water pillar’s grip. But it was no use, as the hashira’s hold stayed firm. “I’m the only one who can do this! None of you have had to kill your own family members before!”

Giyuu’s eyebrows furrowed with bitterness as he pinned his comrade’s arms behind his back. “That’s enough. We’re taking her back to headquarters to consult with Ubuyashiki. The mission is over.”

The rest of the hashira stared down at the demon in front of them in horror.

The determined eyes, the confident smile, the warm aura of a little sister...

It was all gone.

“A demon...” the stone pillar wept, clasping his hands together and sending a silent prayer to the heavens for their lost sister.

The youngest pillar narrowed his eyes at the demon. “She’s not human at all any more, is she?”

Giyuu pulled on the rope restraining her, shaking his head. “She was... she was trying to speak while we brought her here,” he said softly, recalling how painful it was for the hashira to hear her pained screams and cries as they carried her home. “It seems like... she isn’t able to fully speak yet.”

The demon with the rope around her neck thrashed and snarled, baring her sharp white fangs and clawing at the hashira standing around her. Her catlike pupils dilating, she lunged forward at the flame pillar with a roar. “Rrrahh! He— hckk...” Giyuu tugged on the rope once more, stopping her just a few inches from Rengoku’s chest as she went limp.

“Rengoku-san!” Mitsuri cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. None of the hashira knew what to do with their sister. This monster in front of them.

How were they, the pillars of the Demon Slayer Corps, whose duty is to slay all demons, going to kill their own sister?

Did they have to?

“H-he-lp...”

All heads whipped to their sister crawling on the ground, her mouth agape and her red eyes watering.

“H-hel-p... end... m—”

Something shifted in her eyes. As if she was finally able to see clearly for the first time.

Her crimson orbs widened, her claws reaching to her pale face as though she was making sure she was real. She sat there, knees folded underneath her, touching and patting her demonic body with wonder.

The hashira locked eyes with each other in concern.

Has she regained consciousness? Would she turn malicious? Will she recognize who we are? Does she know we’re her siblings?

A broken sob pierced through the air as all of the pillars turned to the center of the circle once again.

One gnarly claw sat over her heart, the other covering her pale mouth. A steady flow of tears poured from her glistening scarlet eyes as she kept her gaze trained on the ground in front of her.

“I-I’m...”

Giyuu gazed at her with sorrow. Shinobu’s eyes filled with sympathy. Mitsuri clasped her hands over her mouth, letting out a sob. Obanai lightly touched her shoulder. Gyomei’s tears began to flow faster. Sanemi stood paralyzed with shock.

“A... de... mon...”

The wind hashira raised a shaking finger, pointing at his sister kneeling on the ground. “O-oi...” he started, his voice trembling. “She can— she can talk...”

Moving to crouch in front of the demon was the insect pillar who tentatively reached a cautious arm onto her bony white shoulder. “My little butterfly... Can you hear me?”

Crimson eyes slowly slid over to meet violet ones, tears still trickling out of them. Her head nodded at an excruciating pace, seemingly sapping all of her energy.

“Good. I am your older sister, Shinobu, and these are all of your siblings, you see?” Her soft, kind voice unwavered, as though she had comforted demons like this countless times during her life. She turned and swept one arm out to the hashira standing before her, the other trained firmly on the younger girl’s back.

Staring before you were the nine pillars of the Demon Slayer Corps. Your nine older siblings locked their grief-stricken eyes with yours. You could barely hear your sister's voice over the thumping sound of blood rushing through your body.

You were so thirsty. You were so tired. You just wanted to sleep. Forever.

“... friends, okay?” the soft voice carried you out of your thoughts. “(Y/N)? Are you still with us?”

You felt your lips part, but no sound came out. Panic rose throughout your body as you tried and failed, and tried and failed again to speak.

The hashira before you looked at each other in concern before the one behind you piped up. “Use your body to speak if you can,” the calm voice spoke. “I’ll keep her on the rope just in case.”

Your stinging eyes moved to meet with pained dark blue ones as his pale hands wrapped firmly around the rope your frail body was attached to.

Nodding slowly— gods, it was so painful— you reached a hand over to one side of your rope-bruised neck and dragged it over to your other side, making a cutting motion.

The hashira gaped at you in horror.

“You... you want us t-to kill you?” The white-haired male yelled, the pulsing veins in his blank eyes straining as they peered into yours.

They were red.

Blood.

You needed blood. You craved it so, so badly. You could feel it bubbling in your gut and spreading from the tips of your clawed toes to your pale white skull. You couldn’t live without blood.

Human blood.

It was everywhere. In a quarter of a millisecond, it was everywhere.

Blood.

Gushing out from a white haori-covered shoulder.

Right underneath your glinting fangs.

Oh, it was delicious.

Terrified screams and the clink of metal cried out from all around you.

But all you could focus on was the taste of blood.

Human blood.

A crack.

You were thrown onto your back. A rope pulled tautly around your neck. The butt of a sword staked right onto your chest.

You cheeks were wet. Why were they wet?

Your eyes stung so badly. Why did they sting?

A strained noise escaped from your throat against your will. “Do— it!”

The voice wasn’t your own.

This body wasn’t your own.

Who were you?

"DO IT!" a voice shrieked from inside you. "DO IT! KILL ME!"

Who... who was saying that?

Nine horrified pairs of eyes stared down at you. Who were they again?

"Please!" the voice was hoarse now. "Please, before I hurt you again!"

The handle of the sword pushing into your chest trembled. You turned to meet the wide eyes of the man with the white hair...

Who was he again?

Oh right, he had the most delicious blood...

But there was something else about him...

Your vision grew red as you remembered the pure ecstasy of drinking in his blood, quenching your never-ending thirst for just a moment...

You craved it again.

Thrashing your body about underneath the sword, you lunged forward, clawing at the man's pale neck.

Petrified gasps sounded from all around you.

A searing pain flooded through your entire body.

There, piercing right through your neck, was a nichirin blade.

And directly in front of your eyes was the green sword hilt of the wind pillar.

Wind pillar.

Your eyes widened in realization as all of your memories of your human life came flooding back into your head.

Shinobu teaching you how to concoct various antidotes and poisons. Mitsuri helping you fit your official Demon Slayer Corps uniform. Rengoku helping you up after a difficult sparring session. Giyuu patting your head before sending you off to the Final Selection. Himejima giving you charms of luck before your first mission.

Sanemi, who had supposedly died to the demon who turned you, in front of you now, with his sword buried into your throat.

“N-nemi—” you managed to croak out, your vision growing dark. All you could focus on was the horrified gaze staring back at you.

"Fuck, (Y/N)!" Sanemi barked. "Why the fuck did you go and do that and kill yourself! Shit! You're gonna fucking die now!" You could see tears on his scarred cheeks.

A tiny, sorrowful smile spread across your face. "Don't cry, Sanemi..." All of your energy poured into this one smile, this one smile to say your goodbyes. "Hey— Nemi... remember, you always said... humans... always get the last laugh, huh?"

The last thing you saw before your vision went black was Sanemi’s frightened eyes.

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated. feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! thank you <3

#kny #kny headcanons #kny imagines #kny x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer angst #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer headcanons #kny angst #sanemi imagines #mitsuri imagines #shinobu imagines #giyuu imagines #rengoku imagines #uzui imagines #angst

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hrina · 5 years ago

Text

In The Ring, Pt. I - Jab

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 4k REQUESTED: not exactly lol

hey everyone! this is PART 1 of the boxer!harry AU i’ve been working on. i was so inspired by this concept that i wrote it all in one day lol. if u enjoy reading it, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated! it really helps in terms of motivation and just knowing how my readers feel about this story in general. so yeah, that would really make my month!

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

okay, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, go stupid go dumb! my masterlist and my inbox are both linked in my bio, for anyone who would like to check out my other fics or who feels like chatting. can’t wait to hear your thoughts 💘💘💘

~*~

January 7, 2021

All of Harry’s teeth are still intact.

For now, at least.

He knows that mouthguards exist—there’s one tucked between his lips every single time he enters the ring. But even then…sometimes punches go awry. Sometimes your opponent dodges at the last second. Sometimes people end up with a mouthful of leather and a few loose incisors. He always keeps one fist near his chin, shielding the lower half of his face from any blows that come his way.

Speaking of blows coming his way…

He ducks away from the straight jab that the man throws—The Wall, they call him. Harry had rolled his eyes when the nickname boomed across the room, soon lost in the roar of the crowd.

He’s never been one for flashy introductions. He prefers to let his technique speak for itself. His brand is his name. Harry Styles. Simple, concise, and so utterly deceiving. He loves watching the smile melt from his opponent’s face, basks in the moment when they realise that he’s tougher than his name suggests.

The Wall jabs again, and Harry successfully dodges the punch. He doesn’t register the other fist hooking around, however, until the blunt front of the man’s glove makes contact with the side of his head. Usually, a blow like that wouldn’t even faze him. But the sheer force behind the hit knocks him off-balance, stumbling to the side as he loses his footing and inhaling sharply when his shoulder collides with the ground.

The yells from the crowd are deafening. Harry coughs, trying to guide air back into his lungs. When he blinks, black spots dance across his vision. Subconsciously, his eyes trace a path upward, past the floor, past his opponent’s feet, past the ropes encompassing the ring. Higher and higher, still, past jeering faces and sloshing beer bottles and grungy eye makeup. All the way to the top of the bleachers, to the exit—to you.

That’s been your unofficial spot for the past two years. Once you turned twenty, your father finally gave in, allowing you to attend Harry’s matches in exchange for the cessation of your endless badgering. You always stand near the door, observing the commotion with thoughtful eyes and puckered lips. Despite himself, Harry has started to think of you as his lucky charm. It’s dangerous—he always swore that he wouldn’t be one of those overly-superstitious athletes—but he can’t help it. He just seems to perform better when you’re around.

Through the rocky field of his vision, he can see just how wide your eyes have grown. There’s an unmistakable look of concern on your face as you watch the fight unfold. Your hand finds its way to the base of your throat, playing nervously with the rose-gold pendant resting there. You crane your neck to get a better view of the ring, your pupils flitting back and forth between Harry and the frighteningly large man looming over him.

A warm rush of adrenaline floods Harry’s veins. The saliva that has gathered in his mouth tastes stale on his tongue. He spits it out as he staggers to his feet. The crowd grows louder, somehow.

The Wall’s smile shrinks as Harry assumes his previous position; his hands orient themselves in front of his face. His opponent gnashes his teeth, seemingly annoyed with the fact that the match has not ended. Harry shakes off the dizziness clouding his brain, and then he’s lunging forward with a newfound sense of determination. He throws punch after punch, sidestepping The Wall’s returning attempts. All he can think about is the fact that you’re up there, watching, waiting, worrying. He never wants to see you like that again.

You’re his goddamn lucky charm.

His victory comes in the form of an uppercut followed immediately by a nasty right hook. The Wall—this big, towering man with bulging biceps and rippling pectorals—crumples to the ground. Harry waits, his chest heaving with exertion as the countdown begins. He’s prepared to watch his opponent rise again, to shift back into a fighting stance and start over. But as the seconds trickle by and The Wall remains motionless on the ground, he soon finds the tension in his body seeping out into the hot, sticky air.

His shoulders sag in relief as a single promising word echoes through the grimy arena.

“Knockout!”

~*~

The crowd thins out considerably in the ten minutes following the termination of the match. Harry stumbles out of the ring, sliding through the ropes and pulling his mouthguard from between his lips. Your father is waiting for him with a smile on his face, holding out an arm and helping him jump down from the raised platform.

“Well done, H,” he says, patting his back proudly.

Harry pants and nods. Your father holds out a reusable water bottle for him to take—he accepts it graciously and gulps down the cold liquid with fat, greedy slurps. Once he pulls the nozzle away from his mouth, he runs the back of his hand over his face to catch any stray droplets that have collected on his chin.

“Thanks, Coach.”

“You took a pretty hard fall, there,” your father says, guiding him to sit down on a bench propped up against the wall. “Medic’s in the back. He’s checking out Aaron right now, but you’re next.” He taps his index finger against Harry’s temple. “We’ve got to make sure everything’s alright up there.”

Harry sucks in a deep breath, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Who the fuck is Aaron?”

“Oh.” Your father laughs. “Aaron. The Wall. Whatever you want to call him.”

Harry frowns. “Don’t like that. Makes him sound like a dick.”

A new voice enters the conversation.

“That’s because he is.”

Harry’s head snaps to the side, and there you are.

You look nice, as usual. There’s something about you that he can never seem to properly describe. You always look so…clean. If he tried to vocalize his thoughts, he’s sure that you would look at him like he was crazy.

But in his head, it makes sense. You take care of yourself. Your nails are spotless, your hair smells good, and he knows that you must dab spritzes of perfume onto your pulse points before you leave the house, because a fresh scent follows you wherever you go. Even now, as you stand a few feet away with your hands on your hips, he catches it on a deep inhale. Not flowery, not fruity, just…clean. Refreshing. Light. Breezy.

Your father snaps him out of his reverie, and he realises that he should probably stop listing every word in the thesaurus.

“How do you know?” Your father’s inquiry is curious. He shoots you a puzzled look, his mouth curling down into a soft scowl.

You roll your eyes. “Called me ‘sweet thing’ before the match started and asked me if I was the prize,” you say, sticking your tongue out in disdain. “I told him to go fuck himself.”

Harry’s lips twitch.

Your father chuckles. “That’s my girl.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head. “What time are we leaving?” you ask. The question is directed at your father, who is fiddling with the drawstrings hanging from his sweater. “I was hoping to study a bit more before bed.”

“Soon, gioia,” your father says. “As soon as Harry gets checked out, we’ll be on our way.”

You nod, and—for what feels like the first time since you cut into the interaction—you glance down at Harry. “Hi,” you say softly, shooting him a small, friendly smile.

He meets your gaze for only a moment. Everything about you is so gentle. Your irises are like melted pots of honey, regarding him with such warmth he feels like he’ll never be cold again. “Hi.”

“Congratulations on your win,” you murmur. Harry wants to bottle your voice and save it as a keepsake. “You made a great comeback.”

Because of you, he wants to say, but he bites his tongue. “Thank you,” he offers up instead, the words scraping against the roof of his mouth and tumbling unceremoniously into the air between you.

A moment of silence ensues as you wait for him to say something—anything—else. But he’s done. You nod once before turning back to your father, who is tweaking the settings of the watch wrapped around his wrist.

“Do you know where the washrooms are?” you ask. You toy absentmindedly with the necklace hanging from your throat. “I need to pee.”

“You can use the one in the women’s locker room,” your father tells you, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “Around the corner, first door on the left.”

“Thanks,” you say, slipping by and pressing a quick peck to his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

He just nods in agreement, still too preoccupied with his watch.

Harry, on the other hand, can’t keep his eyes off of you as you walk away. He takes note of the way that you tuck your hair behind your ear, how you shoulder the strap of your purse to keep it from slipping down your arm, how you walk with a purpose despite being so moderate and kind. His gaze falls momentarily to the sway of your hips, the enticing nature of your waist. He stares for a long moment before tearing away, clearing his throat and blinking a few times in quick succession.

“Proud of you, H,” your father pipes up, tapping the face of his watch twice before dropping his arm with a sigh. “You did well out there.”

“Thanks,” Harry mutters. A spark of guilt flares up in his chest when he realises that he had been blatantly ogling you with your father standing only a few feet off to the side. He silently berates himself, shaking his head free of any alluring thoughts.

Your father’s phone chirps with the arrival of a new notification. He fishes the device out of his pocket and glances down at the screen.

“Let’s go,” he tells Harry, jerking his head to the right. “Medic’s ready for you, now.”

January 13, 2021

“C’mon, H, be smart with it! Watch how he angles himself!”

And Harry’s trying, really, but Arthur—or Artie, as your father likes to call him—is a hunkering titan of a man. He used to be your father’s star athlete before retiring, and now…now he’s working in finance, or something akin to that. Harry isn’t one hundred percent sure; he usually zones out when people begin to discuss the stock market.

Artie throws a right hook, but Harry sees it coming and blocks it with ease. They move in a circle, focussed only on each other while other individuals outside of the ring totter around.

Harry prefers to train on weekdays during the afternoon, because that’s when the gym isn’t as packed. Right now, only a handful of other people are working out, lifting weights or doing cardio exercises. Harry and Artie are here so often that nobody even blinks an eye anymore. And your father…well, he runs the place. Of course he would be here.

The sparring continues. When Harry refuses to make the first move, Artie sticks one glove out, beckoning him forward. “Come here, pretty boy.”

“Don’t make me pull your hair,” Harry grits, because Artie’s ponytail is swinging temptingly from beneath his headgear.

The other man laughs good-naturedly before lunging. Harry blocks his uppercut and delivers a strong, pointed jab right to the middle of his chest. Artie stumbles backward, inhaling sharply as the breath is knocked from his lungs. Harry bites back a smile.

“Nice, H!” your father calls.

“Thanks, Coach,” he mutters.

The front door of the gym opens, accompanied by the soft tinkling of a bell to announce the new arrival. Harry’s attention is reflexively drawn toward the direction of the sound, and his heartbeat stutters beneath his ribs.

You’re there, with your hair tied back in a low bun and silver hoops hanging from your ears. You’re holding a tray of coffee in your left hand, and there’s a warm smile on your face. You wave excitedly as you greet Portia, the middle-aged woman sitting behind the front desk. The two of you chat as you shrug off your jacket and tug the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.

Your mouth moves languidly. Though Harry is too far to hear your voice, he has a pretty good idea of what you’re saying. Your eyes widen and you shiver dramatically, shaking your head.

It’s cold!

A heavy fist makes contact with the side of his jaw, and he falls to the ground.

Your father’s loud exclamation pulls your attention away from Portia and toward the ring on the opposite end of the room. Harry groans lowly as he pushes himself to his knees, tilting his head from side to side and cracking his neck. When he turns to face your father, he finds him frowning through the gaps between the ropes.

“What the hell was that?” he asks, shooting Harry a disappointed look.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, climbing to his feet with a grunt. “Got distracted.”

He chances a glance back at you, and his shoulders grow tense when he realises that you’re making your way over to the ring, the tray of coffee held between your hands like a peace offering.

“Hello, boys,” you singsong. “I brought drinks.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” your father says as you hand him his designated cup. He leans forward, pressing a quick kiss to your hair. You hum happily in response.

“Jason!” you call out as Artie approaches the side of the ring. “I got your lemonade.”

“Thanks, little girl,” Artie hums, accepting his drink graciously and taking a long sip from the straw. “And for the hundredth time, stop calling me ‘Jason’.”

“Stop calling me ‘little girl’,” you shoot back, laughing deviously. “I can’t help it if you look like him, okay? You’re even the same age, too.” You cock one eyebrow. “Should I start calling you ‘Aquaman’ instead?”

“God, no.” Artie shakes his head vehemently. “Let’s stick to Jason. ’Least that’s a real name.”

You giggle as he ambles away. Your eyes shift over to Harry—who has kept silent the entire time—and your lips curl up into a kind smile. “Hi, Harry.”

“Hi.” His voice is guttural.

“Last, but not least,” you murmur, plucking his drink from the tray and holding it up for him to take. “One black coffee, right?”

“Right,” he confirms with a curt nod. He tugs his bulky gloves off, dropping them to the floor and reaching out to accept the cup. A strong spark pricks at his hand when his fingers brush against yours. Your responding gasp is soft, barely-noticeable—if he weren’t so painfully aware of everything you do, he would have missed it completely.

“Thank you,” he says, guiding the coffee to his mouth and taking a small sip.

“No problem.” You smile up at him again, and God, that fucking smile. He wants it tattooed onto the backs of his eyelids. A wave of heat blooms in his chest and creeps up his neck, but thankfully, the pink flush blends in with his sweat-slicked, already-rosy skin.

“How was class, sweetheart?” your father asks, tilting his head to the side.

“It was good.” You shrug, tossing a thumb over your shoulder. “I’m going to head home now, though—I have a proposal due in a few days and I really need to get started.”

“Go, go,” your father concedes. You bid him goodbye before standing on your tiptoes and craning your neck to catch sight of Artie, who is quite evidently enjoying his lemonade.

“Bye, Jason!”

“Bye, little girl!”

You laugh. Your gaze lands on Harry again, eyes sparkling and features resolutely tender. “Bye, Harry.”

He swallows down the hard lump in his throat. “Bye.”

January 16, 2021

Harry’s workout playlist features a lot of Ariana Grande.

He just thinks that she’s good, okay?

But he knows that Artie and your father would never let him hear the end of it, so he keeps that information private. During practice, he’ll endure whatever shitty tunes Artie picks from his own library, and he won’t say a word. He’s not in the ring to dance, anyway. He’s there to make money—albeit illegally—because quite frankly, he hasn’t discovered an aptitude for anything else.

It’s late—the gym is technically closed. But the great thing about having the owner for a coach is the fact that Harry was given another key to add to his collection. Your father doesn’t care, as long as he locks up after he’s done. Harry has spent more time here than at his own home, he imagines. It’s nice when it’s quiet—it gives him plenty of time to think.

The back of his t-shirt is soaked through with sweat. He’s gazing at the ceiling as he lifts the heavy weights up and down over his torso. A bubbly song is playing on his phone, keeping his energy high.

So what if he listens to Ariana Grande? She makes great music.

The distinctive sound of footsteps reaches his ears. He pauses, setting the weightlifting bar back onto its rack and sitting up quickly. The noise is coming from the stairs that lead down to the swimming pool in the basement. Harry stands, and though his muscles are already screaming from previous exertion, he readies himself for the worst.

You appear at the top of the flight, your slippers smacking against each step loudly. You’re ruffling a towel against your wet hair, your head angled to the side as you squeeze out any excess water. Upon catching sight of Harry, you freeze in your tracks.

“Oh. Harry. Hi.”

“Hi,” he says slowly. “I…didn’t know you were here.”

“I didn’t know you were here,” you reply wryly, a small smirk making its way onto your lips.

Harry scratches sheepishly at the back of his neck. “Yeah. Er…I was just working out.”

You nod, your expression coy. “I can see that.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air. Harry clears his throat, rubbing his jaw with his fingers because what else is he supposed to do? “Were you—did you go for a swim?”

“Yeah,” you say. Your shoulders deflate, like you’re almost grateful that he’s contributed more to the conversation. “Spent half the time doing laps, and the other half on my phone.” Your lips quirk up with the feeble joke.

Harry chuckles weakly. “That’s just how it is, sometimes.”

Your eyes flutter shut for only a moment. “Yeah.”

More silence. Harry chews nervously on his bottom lip. Why the fuck can’t he speak?

The song playing from his phone changes. Your eyes narrow ever-so-slightly when a few upbeat notes trickle into the air, followed immediately by the smooth crooning of a woman’s voice. “Is this…,” you hesitate, and he can see how you’re fighting a smile, “…Carly Rae Jepsen?”

“Uh,” he says dumbly, uncertain of how to proceed. Sure enough, I Really Like You by Carly Rae Jepsen is filtering through the taut atmosphere, painfully loud now that the two of you are truly paying attention to it.

A high-pitched laugh falls from your mouth, and your shoulders shake with the force of your amusement. Harry, unable to help himself, begins to chuckle along with you. Heat blooms across his cheeks, but he’s not as embarrassed as he thought he’d be. Your giggles aren’t derisive, he realises.

He’s nearly overcome with the urge to take you in his arms, then, but he resists.

“Late night, watching the television…,” you sing quietly, and then you’re dissolving into merriment all over again.

Once your joint laughter subsides, you shoot him a bright grin. Harry tries his best to return it, though he doesn’t think that he mirrors your smile to its full extent. You sigh in delight, shouldering the strap of your bag and tossing your towel over your forearm.

“That honestly made my night,” you tell him, utterly sincere.

His heart somersaults in his chest. “’M glad.”

“Well,” you say, shrugging gently, “I should probably go.”

“Yeah.” His response is hollow. He lifts his hand in a half-hearted wave. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

He lies back down with a grunt as you make your way toward the exit. His fingers wrap around the weightlifting bar, about to pull it off of its resting place, when your voice suddenly rings out again.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He sits up too quickly, nearly catching his forehead against the metal of the bar. When he turns around to face you, he finds you doubling back, approaching him and nibbling apprehensively on your bottom lip.

“I actually—,” you pause, like you’re unsure of how to continue, “I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

“Sure,” he says, rubbing his hands over the black shorts covering his thighs. “Go ahead.”

“It might be kind of weird,” you warn. “Don’t laugh at me.”

He shakes his head, blinking solemnly. “I won’t.”

“Would you—,” you begin, and your fingers come up to play with the pendant resting at the base of your throat, “—teach me how to box?”

“I—,” Harry recoils slightly, taken aback by your question. “What?”

“Would you teach me how to box?” you repeat, though your voice is significantly smaller. “I want to learn how to defend myself.”

“Against what?” he asks, his brows knitting together in concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine.” You wave away his worries with an inattentive flick of your hand. Harry’s eyes narrow as he studies your face. You refuse to meet his gaze.

You’re lying, he realises, straight through your pretty teeth. But it would be impolite of him to pry, wouldn’t it? And this is the first time that the two of you have ever been really, truly alone; he doesn’t want to fuck it up.

“Okay,” he says slowly, even though he doesn’t believe your guarantee.

He pulls at the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it up and wiping his face with the fabric. When he fixes his gaze on you once more, he thinks he catches your eyes drifting across his torso. Cocking one eyebrow curiously, he climbs to his feet.

“What do you want to learn?” he asks, reaching for his phone and pausing the music streaming from the device.

“Anything,” you say breathlessly. “Everything.”

His lips twitch.

“I—,” he scratches at his nose with two fingers, “—I don’t really have a set schedule, you know, between practice and actual matches.”

“I know.” You nod understandingly.

“And I know you have school,” he continues, tilting his head to the side. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Positive,” you tell him. There’s something strong burning in your eyes; he can’t quite figure out what it is. “I want to train. Just…don’t tell my dad, okay?”

“Okay,” he repeats. He swallows heavily, offering his phone to you. “Put your number in, yeah? I’ll text you on the nights I’m free, and if you’re not too busy, we can meet up here.”

“Alright,” you concede softly. You take the device from him, and he pretends not to notice just how badly your hands are shaking. Your nails tap quietly against the screen, and before you know it, you’re passing the phone back to him with your information saved under a new contact.

“Alright,” Harry echoes.

The two of you stare at each other for a long, silent moment. The spell is broken, however, when you finally take a step back, clearing your throat and tucking a strand of damp hair behind your ear.

“I should go,” you say. “For real, this time.”

“For real.” Harry nods.

“You’ll lock up, right?” you ask, retreating toward the exit.

“Yup,” he says, popping the last letter instinctively. At that, you smile, your mouth curling up into a soft, inviting crescent.

“Okay,” you murmur, placing one hand on the door. “Goodnight, Harry.”

He watches you go with forlorn eyes and empty lungs. “Goodnight.”

~*~

PART II: Cross

PART III: Hook

PART IV: Uppercut

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry writing #boxrry #alrighttttttt here she is! hope u guys enjoy <3

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lubdubsworld · 4 years ago

Text

Change of Heart ( TaehyungxOC) (Chapter 6)

Pairing : Taehyung x OC Werewolf AU!!

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3/ Chapter 4/ Chapter 5

[ Summary :

Times are changing.

After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all…..

He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first. ]

Warnings : Get ready for the unsexiest sex in the history of sex. werewolf sex, knotting etc

You can completely skip this chapter if it makes you uncomfortable .

Literally nothing happens except that they mate.

Chapter 6

“Luna is staying with Jimin for a week. Jimin’s sister and her kids are home so he’s sure she’ll be fine.” Taehyung said, when I asked him about the young girl.

I nodded, slightly disappointed because I loved her and was looking forward to seeing her.

Although I suppose he probably didn’t want her to be around when he was doing....well whatever it was that he intended to do to me. I felt my pulse raise, the first tendrils of fear and panic beginning to weave through my veins.

“You look terrified.” Taehyung commented mildly, fingers curled gently around my elbow as he led me to where his car was parked. I swallowed.

“I am terrified.” I pointed out.” I have no idea what I just agreed to.”

Taehyung hummed, fumbling with his car key and a second later the lights in a swanky black car , a little bit ahead of us, flashed with a familiar beep. Taehyung’s car looked as expensive as it probably was, black and sleek .

“Is this the car you choose anytime you’re seducing unwilling humans?” I teased.

I stared at the glossy metallic finish, the swanky lights that lit up along the car’s sharp and beautiful lines and my eyes caught the small exquisitely detailed silver wolf, carefully mounted on the bonnet.

“Hmm....no one has been unwilling , so far.” Taehyung’s eyes danced with mischief.

I rolled my eyes at that, handing over my carry-all bag when he held his hand out for it.

“This isn’t what I would have chosen for myself.” He moved to open the boot space, lifting the small suitcase I’d packed and stowing it inside carefully.

I stared at him wondering what he was talking about.

“Someone like you...for a mate.” He pointed out and I wondered if he even heard the insult .

“Someone like me for the rest of your life?” I gave him a dry smile.

He closed the boot sharply, the sound making me jump a little.

His gaze was intense, lush lips twisted in a frown.

“A human ...for the rest of my life.” He corrected. I felt a pang of hurt at that. It was somehow worse, knowing that I was just interchangeable with every other human of his acquaintance . He moved closer to me, reaching past me to touch the sensor on his key to the door.

The door opened when he touched the handle, arms brushing my body as he leaned in close to me and I flinched back instinctively..

He gave me a look.

“Sorry...I’m just a little on edge.”

He sighed.

“I won’t hurt you.” His voice was steady and firm , his gaze calm and soothing as he stared at me and for the millionth time, I found myself utterly enthralled by his beauty. The perfect , sharp as a blade jawline, flawless skin and sharp, bewitching eyes.

“I think.... you know that’s a lie.” I smiled a little. He had the good grace to look a little contrite. He stepped back a bit to give me space to get in.

“It’s not a lie.”

I tilted my head and stared at him.

“Really? You’re telling me a human mating a wolf isn’t going to do a number on the human? ”

Taehyung frowned, thick eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s not going to leave any permanent damage.”

I let out a slightly strangled laugh.

“How comforting!”

Taehyung shrugged.

“ It is how it is. Mating is..... an ancient ritual. Something that we’ve been doing for centuries. At the heart of it, it is something animalistic and feral because it isn’t the human part of me that’s going to be involved. And my wolf isn’t familiar with being gentle. I can’t promise he won’t hurt you but I can promise that I will help fix what he breaks.”

What he breaks, I thought with a slightly hysterical flash of trepidation. His wolf was going to break ....what exactly?

He must’ve caught the look on my face.

“I think I could have worded that better.” He muttered.

My tongue felt like sandpaper in my mouth.

“I’m just wondering if perhaps , a week from now, I’m going to prefer being shot in the shoulder, to having sex with you.” I croaked out.

His lips quirked at that.

“Not unless being shot in the shoulder gave you multiple orgasms.....no.” His eyes flashed red, boring holes into mine and my lips parted in a soft gasp.

Arousal shot straight through my center, hot and heavy and I felt the blood rush to my face so abruptly that I was momentarily lightheaded. Feeling a bit like there was steam gushing out of my ears, I dropped my gaze away from him, down to his knees and then turned away, face flaming.

I moved to the open door, ready to climb in hide but Taehyung moved quickly, gripping my arm and pulling me around till I crashed into his chest.

“Tae-” I broke off when he reached out to gently cup my face, thumb brushing across my lower lip in a gentle caress.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, smiling gently, “ I find you incredibly desirable and I intend to show you that when you’re in my bed. The fact that my wolf also approves of you will only make the whole thing more enjoyable for you. Trust me, I’ve never had any complaints before.”

Certain that I was probably the same shade as a ripe tomato, I yanked my hand away from him, turning around and stumbling to the door. I got into the car quickly, slamming the door shut. I could hear him chuckling lightly outside as he finished putting away the rest of my bags.

I tugged on the seatbelt with shaky fingers, trying not to overthink. I felt torn, confused. Like he was toying with me. He was so carefully vague about what he wanted and what he felt , it was impossible to understand him. I watched the seat belt click into place and the sat back to stare straight ahead.

The driver’s door opened and Taehyung climbed in, powering the vehicle and slipping his belt on in one smooth move before letting his fingers play across the backlit dashboard. Soft music began crooning through the speakers and he carefully adjust the mirrors manually before gripping the steering wheel and carefully easing the care out of the parking lot.

“We’ll pick up a few supplies on the way.” He commented mildly.

“Supplies?”

“Medical supplies.”

I felt my pulse jump again.

“I’m beginning to regret this immensely.” I whispered, fingers digging into my thigh as I willed myself to not scream.

Taehyung turned to give me a look.

“you do know, I’d have to bite you, right?”

I felt my jaw come unhinged.

“I...you... what?!”

Taehyung groaned.

“please don’t freak out. “ H’s voice deepened, probably in an attempt to be soothing, “ It’s just a small bite. It won’t be that deep or anything but it will leave a mark. It’s supposed to. Kind of a sign that you’re mated.”

I stared at him , dread pooling in the pit of my stomach and making me feel mildly nauseous.

“Would it.. Would i... ?” I couldn’t even finish it.

Taehyung looked confused for a second and then his face went completely blank.

“No.” He said shortly.

“No, I -?”

“No, you won’t turn into a fucking werewolf, Jesus Christ” He snapped furiously,” Do you really think I’m gonna turn you into a were without your fucking consent? “

I felt myself sinking back into the plush leather seat in the face of his anger.

The air was heavy with a tense silence for a few minutes and then he sighed loudly, breath leaving him in an exhale.

“I’m.... I’m sorry. I know this is frightening for you and I’m grateful that you’re here. I want... Fuck. I want to make this... good for you. And if not good at least ...bearable. “

I stared down at my shoes.

“I’m just... I feel scared because I don’t know what I’m walking into.”

I looked up when the car slowed down and I noticed he was pulling into the parking lot of an all night mart of some kind. I watched as he carefully pulled in between two smaller cars .

“You wanna come in with me? Or would you rather wait here?” He asked casually.

“I’ll...I’ll stay here.”

He hummed and kept the air conditioner and the music running , moving out of the car . I watched him leave , his tall suave figure earning him dazzled looks from the people in the parking lot.

I watched as nearly every single woman in the place ogled him, taking in the perfectly tailored slacks, the silk shirt and his striking good looks. He looked a little rakish today, having run a hand through his hair earlier and even from a distance, there was no doubting that he was one of the most gorgeous men in the entire country.

And no one in their right mind would think he was anything but an alpha, I thought balefully, watching the way he stalked across the tarmac, his gait predatory and focused. People stepped out of his way instinctively. No one met his gaze head on and I knew exactly why.

Staring at Taehyung was like staring down an apex predator.

Even the dumbest of men wouldn’t be dumb enough to provoke someone who looked like that.

i caught my own reflection in the mirror and felt myself shrink in on myself.

I wasn’t ugly.

Far from it.

I could even be beautiful if I had a couple of hours and access to some good beauty products. But I wasn’t werewolf level beautiful. I couldn’t think of a single quality in me that would qualify me to be Kim Taehyung’s significant other. I remembered the model he had been dating, Ji hyun. She had been so beautiful. Tall and lissome with perfectly sculpted features.

in what world could I compete with that?

And What about.... the emotional connection?

I groaned at the very though of it.

Love was such an abstract thing to define but I wasn’t a cynic. I could imagine myself being in love with Taehyung, falling for him and in fact, I was pretty sure that I was already half way there already.

I had wanted him to be interested in me when he had asked me to look after Luna. Had wanted that hot and heavy gaze on me, had wanted him to touch me, with less than pure intentions. But it had still been just a crush, albeit a big one.

Back then, I had convinced myself to forget about it because of the sheer impossibility of it ever happening. But now, my traitorous heart was beginning to whisper little phrases of hope at me.

What if he likes you too....

What if he fell in love with you too....

I had to tamp down that voice before it grew any louder, I thought miserably. Did I not remember how he had looked, when he’d asked me to come with him? Like he was being held at gunpoint?

The door clicked open again and I blinked. Taehyung opened the rear door and tossed a few bags on the seat there before the slamming the door shut and climbing in next to me.

“I’ve asked the house keeper to stock the pantry and get the rooms cleaned. The staff won’t be around for a week so I would have to make sure it doesn’t get too filthy.”

“I can help... to cook and clean.” I said quickly.

He hesitated before smirking a little.

There was something feral in the smile, something lewd and suggestive and I felt myself blushing although I had no idea why.

“What? Why are you looking at me that way....”

He shrugged.

“I just think its cute that you think that.”

I frowned, not at all sure what he was implying.

“What does that even mean? What am I thinking that’s so ridiculous.?”

“It cute that you think that you can still move around after getting fucked by an alpha werewolf on his rut. “ His eyes fairly danced with amusement and I felt my jaw drop.

“You- That's- “ I was momentarily incoherent with how much his words had scrambled my brain, “ ... ...How dare you!” I finished in a hash whisper.

He laughed out loud at that.

“I’m supposed to be selling this whole mating thing to you . I think I’m doing a bad job of it.” He shook his head, before starting the engine again.

I didn’t reply, my cheeks hurting from the effort it took not to scream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I held the bags carefully, while a couple of young men carried over my suitcases into the elevator. Taehyung was leaning on the counter at the reception desk and the girl behind the desk was making moon-eyes at him.

"Mr. Kim, we’ve already spoken to the other residents. The penthouse suit if off limits for the rest of the week as you requested. Your daughter’s nanny was here earlier and she said she’ll bring Luna back when you ask her to.”

Taehyung nodded.

“Excellent. This is my fiance, Yoon Mi Rae.” He said casually and I flushed at the phrase.

“Oh, fiance?” The woman made no effort to hide the disappointment and disbelief on her face. I smiled weakly.

“Yes. Surprised?” He chuckled and I frowned when the girl laughed too.

“Never thought you would go for a human, Tae.” She tilted her head .

The nickname surprised me. So they were close, then?

“ Sometimes life surprises you that way.”

I sighed, turning away at the words. I tamped down the urge to yell at him that I didn’t particularly savor the thought of being mated to him either. That given a choice I would rather be with a man who actually wanted me.

But that wasn’t why I had agreed to this whole thing was it? Taehyung’s cause was bigger than both of us. My father was doing something illegal and damaging and he had to be stopped.

That was what this was about.

If I lost sight of that bigger picture and focused on the little things, then I would likely be miserable for a long long time.

Little things like the fact that Taehyung had absolute no interest in falling in love with a human.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The apartment was spacious and decorated s tastefully that I couldn’t help but stop and stare. It was very obvious that Taehyung had painstakingly picked the decor out himself. A few Van Gogh paintings hung on one of the walls and the entire living space was done in muted tones of beige and also colors of rich mahogany brown with lush red and maroon trinkets for relief.

Taehyung directed the med to leave the suitcases in the master bedroom and then once they left, he carefully closed the door behind them.

I heard the sound of the lock clicking in place and slowly, the dread from earlier returned.

“Do you drink?” Taehyung asked casually, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it on the couch., I watched him move to the massive fridge in the kitchen, and felt my lips trembling a bit.

“Just- Just water.” I said softly.

He grabbed a few bottles of water and carefully poured me a glass. He looked up then and his gaze caught mine.

Feeling incredibly vulnerable, I merely stared back.

“Are you hungry?” He asked gently.

I shook my head.

He nodded, stepping out from behind the counter and walking over , holding out the glass of water. I took it from him cautiously and took a sip.

“We need to talk about this. I don’t... I don’t want you to be blindsided by anything that happens tomorrow. “

Tomorrow.

“Okay. I’m listening. “ I took a few more sips of the water and he carefully took the glass from me.

I moved to sit on the couch but he stopped me with a hand to my arm.

“Do you dance?” He said casually.

I blinked.

“Dance?”

He smiled and snapped his fingers a couple of times.

I gasped when the lights in the living space dimmed down not turning off entirely but bathing the entire room in hues of gold . The light made him look ten times more enthralling and the soft smile on his face made me want to weep. If I had been half in love earlier, I’d certainly fallen the entire way down in that damned smile.

“I think you should get used to my body first.” He smiled and stepped closer, gently wrapping one arm around my waist before grabbing my wrist and guiding it to his shoulder. I curled my fingers tentatively, feeling my pulse pound at the smoothness of the silk and the underlying strength of his muscles. I brushed my fingers gently against his shoulder blades, stroking down to his pecs and stopping when my palm rested right over his heart.

“You like that?” He smiled, “ Because I certainly do” and there was no hint of teasing there, just genuine pleasure and in the face of such honestly, I couldn’t help but blush.

“You’re.... big.” I finished , feeling my face flame.

He nodded.

“I am. Everywhere. its probably going to be a bit of a problem for you later.” He smiled and pulled a small square remote from his pocket.

Music began to spill into the air from the speakers and I laughed at the song.

“ I was made for loving you” Tori Kelly’s beautiful voice crooned and I shook my head.

“You are good at this, Alpha Kim.” I said softly. “Is this the part where your conquests begin taking off their clothes?”

He hummed and began to move, one hand curving around my waist and the other lightly resting on my back. I swayed with him, enjoying the gentle intimacy.

“I actually prefer doing that myself.” He smirked and I nodded, relaxing a bit. Taehyung was likeable, not an asshole by any stretch of the imagination and surprisingly humble considering the kind of wealth he had at his disposal.

I liked him deeply and while it was obvious he thought he had to handle me like fine china, the truth was I wasn’t even half as scared as I ought to have been.

“You’re pretty calm now. You were..... very would up earlier.” I pointed out.

He hummed, his fingers tracing up and down my back before resting at the base of my spine, thumb gentle as it stroked my skin through the fabric of my dress.

“I can control it easier because you’re right here. My wolf is calm because you’re in my arms. And my rut probably won’t start till I’m ... well , for a few hours at least. “

I nodded.

“How do you know its starting?” I asked, curious.

He gave me a grin.

“Oh trust me you’ll know.” He muttered, pulling me slightly closer till I was pressed right up against his body, hips pressing into me gently. I felt the hard press of his erection and even with the layers of fabric between us I could tell how well endowed he was and I stilled, backing away a little.

“I’m.... Sorry, I...” I whispered.

But he grabbed my wrists, tugging me back gently.

“Don’t apologize. Its alright. You need to get used to me. Like this, I can watch how you react and back off when I want but later...I may not be that coherent. I just want you be comfortable before we start anything. “ He said softly, fingers fluttering down to link with mine.

“Are you saying you won’t stop if i ask you to?”

Taehyung hesitated.

“No...if you’re actually hurting or in danger , I’ll know and I will stop. But my wolf probably won’t stop if its just you getting cold feet and you aren’t in any real danger from me. “

I looked away, not feeling very reassured. The bigger picture, I reminded myself. I wasn’t here for a good time. I was here because he needed me and not the other way around.

Taehyung took my silence for disapproval and gently touched my face, eyes wide with apology.

“I’m sorry.” He said calmly, “ Wolves have....different moral codes and that's probably why its incredibly rare for a wolf to mate with a human.”

“What do you think happened with us?” I asked him, “ You obviously need a were in your life. So why did your wolf pick me?”

He didn’t reply.

“Is this permanent?”

“For me, yes. For you, no.”

“What does that mean?”

“When you leave here , you can go back to your old life. You can probably meet another guy and get married if you want. I however would not be able to have another relationship...”

I felt my jaw drop.

“That’s....” i began but he shook his head.

“It’s alright. I’m not a huge fan of relationships. I have my work and Luna. My life is complete as is.”

There was nothing much to say to that.

“You wanna go to bed now?” He asked quietly .

I smiled at how nervous he looked.

“Lead the way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung’s bedroom was almost surgical suite clean and also incredibly huge. The large four poster bed had huge ornate frames and I felt my eyes redden when I saw the handcuffs neatly cuffed to the lowest rung.

Taehyung followed my gaze and smiled.

“Ah. Thats just a precaution.”

“you want to put me in handcuffs?” i blurted out and he laughed.

“No...I’ll be the one in the handcuffs. When I’m knotting you, my claws are going to pop and I don’t want to hurt you accidentally. The handcuffs will make sure that my hands stay off you.”

“Okay.... “

He moved around the room, casually fixing the lights , turning most of them off and leaving only a couple of lamps near the bed on.

“Would you like to shower?” He prompted. “ I bought... well, there's a nightgown in the bathroom that you could wear. Only if you want to .... No pressure.”

Nightgown?

I nodded and moved to the attached bath .

“the towels are in the cupboard.” He called out behind me when I closed the door.

I stared around at the bathroom which was almost as large as the living space. A bathtub stood in the corner and it looked large enough to hold three people comfortably. A shower stall stood on the left and I quickly stripped out of my clothes and moved to the shower.

The buttons took a little time for me to figure them out but the hot water on my body was a welcome relief. The water helped loosen my muscles and the slight twinge in my shoulder was almost fully gone.

I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and noticed the white box , tied together with a satin ribbon. I opened it carefully half expecting something scandalous.

It wasn’t.

I pulled out the plain white cotton nightgown, and it looked especially fragile.

Confused but willing to indulge him, I slipped it on quickly, brushing my teeth and fluffing my hair before stepping out.

Taehyung was half naked on the bed and I froze near the bathroom. He was wearing just a pair of boxers which did nothing to hide his arousal.

“You alright , sweetheart?” He said gently and the nickname made my teeth hurt.

“Umm...yeah. So...we’re just doing this then?”

“I think its starting...” He said tiredly.

I startled.

“You said... I thought it was tomorrow..?”

“Guess the guy doesn’t wanna wait that long.” Taehyung muttered tiredly and his eyes flashed red.

But it didn’t fade back to chestnut brown, the way it usually did.

Instead the irises stayed red, like a ruby , glinting across the distance between us as he stared me down. .

I could feel the hysteric fear beginning to build and I fought to keep it down. It was okay... He was an Alpha and so his eyes flashed red... that’s all. Jungkook’s eyes had flashed red plenty of times when we were together.

“Come here.” He patted his lap.

“Okay. “ I squeaked.

Feet leaden, I walked over to the bed , climbing over carefully and then scooting across the clean white sheets to reach him. i stayed kneeling near him.

He was staring at me expectantly.

“Oh, you want me to sit there?” I pointed at his lap.

He looked amused.

“If it isn’t too much of a bother.” He said primly.

Stop acting like its your first time.

I yelled at myself internally before throwing one leg over his thighs, raising myself up to hover over him. Taehyung grabbed the back of my thighs. gripping me hard through the flimsy night gown and yanked me forward till I was seated right on his hardness.

I grabbed his shoulders to steady myself, staring down into his red eyes as he smiled, a slow calculating grin.

"You're beautiful. I had more than my fair share of dirty dreams about you when we first met." He confessed softly, and I felt pleasure bloom inside me at the shallow compliment. Whatever, no compliment was bad if it came from a guy like Taehyung.

“I’m sure anyone who meets you has the same compulsion,” I pointed out and he chuckled.

“I wanted to talk to you about tonight. It isn’t because I want to scare you but because I don’t want to blindside you when it happens. Humans aren’t built to take a knot. They just aren’t. I’m going to go out on a limb and say you haven’t tried anything ....along those lines before?” He asked carefully.

I shook my head.

“The only were I’ve slept with is Jungkook and he never-”

Taehyung snarled, so sudden and uncalled for that I nearly toppled over. A ripping sound near my waist made me balk, and I stared down at my side, where one incredibly sharp claw had popped , tearing cleanly through the fabric of the nightgown.

“fuck... I’m sorry... Are you okay?” He whispered urgently, the claw retracting and I could only cling to him, shaking a bit.

“Um....” I stared at him and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead like he’d run a mile. I realized he was struggling to control his wolf, eyes flashing red intermittently. “ Are you alright, Tae?” I asked him, pressing a palm to his chest . He grabbed my wrist before pressing a kiss to the inside of it.

Taehyung gave me a strangled smile.

“Perhaps, you shouldn’t mention other wolves you’ve slept with when you’re with me,” He suggested and I felt my head swim.

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’ve always thought possessiveness is a pathetic thing to feel for someone but unfortunately as an alpha it pretty much defines my wolf.” He grimaced.

I reached out, carefully tracing my thumb across his forehead, dabbing up a bit of the sweat gathered there before wiping it on my gown.

“I’m sure you have other redeeming qualities.” I shrugged , grinning and he smiled in return, hands coming up to gently cup my face leading me down for a soft kiss.

The pillowy softness of his lips completely threw me off and I moaned into the kiss, one arm hooking around his neck so I could kiss him better. He tasted heady and minty and altogether delicious, tongue tracing the seam of my lips before slipping in.

There was something incredibly gentle about how he kissed, so at odds with how he behaved when he let his wolf take over and the dichotomy of it was so fascinating to me.

Kim Taehyung with his soft subtly seductive words, his gentle touches and patient kisses was also Alpha Kim, the wolf with ruby red eyes, blood lust and violence in his gaze when he was threatened.

When he pulled back I was panting and almost in a trance.

“I wanted to help you get through tonight without being too hurt. Is that okay?”

I gave him a bemused smile.

“No, I’d rather you put me through immense pain.” I said drily.

His eyes narrowed at the sarcasm, and he lightly spanked my thigh. I flinched at the sharp pain, gone before I could fully process it but the delicious heat from the impact stayed, thrumming under my skin.

“Vixen.” He growled.

I quieted down, watching him expectantly.

“Why don’t you lie down?” He gave my hips a small squeeze.

I quickly climbed off him, sinking into the mattress and carefully lying down .

“I’ll be back. Give me a second.”

I watched as he carefully climbed off the bed , my gaze drawn to his naked back, the strong width of his shoulders and the way it tapered to his waist. The silk of his boxers left nothing to the imagination and I had to look away, gripping the sheets and breathing evenly through my nose just to curb the urge to whimper.

Muscle memory is a hell of a thing, I thought desperately, feeling my thighs begin to tingle. Naked man, dim lighting and bed equaled sex in my mind and my body was responding easily to the atmosphere and Taehyung’s gorgeous body was just an added bonus.

He grabbed something from the cupboard and a bottle from the dresser and I stared, curious as he made his way over.

“Have you ever dabbled with ....bdsm?” He asked casually , tossing the bottle up and catching it easily. I stared at his long , long fingers, the way they looked, gripping the surface.

I felt myself flush from the top of my head all the way down to the soles of my feet.

“Uh... A couple of times. I was really young.” I said hastily. “ He was...uh..well he was older and...”

“Don’t worry about it. I just didn’t want you to get scared. You’ve been in subspace then?” He was making his way over and I could feel nervousness build. It took a me a second to process what he’d just asked.

I hesitated.

“It... I was too scared to fully let go..” I admitted. “ I fall easily and it terrified me because I didn’t fully trust him .”

Taehyung hummed, moving closer to me and carefully placing a strip of black cloth on the pillow next to my head. He dropped the bottle on the mattress and knelt on the edge, next to me, stroking the hair back from my face and smiling.

“I understand. Do you feel that way with me, too? If you do, we can think of some other way to do this. “

I felt my eyes flutter shut at the gentle touch of his fingers.

“I trust you.” I said softly.

He nodded.

“It’s nothing intense , I swear. I just want to blindfold you. And then maybe a little bit of impact play...i noticed you liked that....” His lips quirked.

I blushed , nodding. He picked up the dark strip of cloth, stretched it between his fingers, testing the give of the material.

“The blindfold is going to help keep you grounded. No distractions, yeah? I want you to follow my voice and feel my touch, don’t think about anything else ....is that clear?”

I nodded.

“Words, angel.” He said gently.

My toes curled at the endearment.

“Uh... Yes.”

“Yes, sir.” He corrected gently.

I felt my body run hot and cold all at once, lips parting and throat going dry.

“S-Sorry?”

Taehyung chuckled gently and I jumped when he gently placed the blindfold over my eyes, the world dissolving in black before me as he carefully tied the strip behind .

Once it was secured, I felt the gentle touch of his finger across my cheeks.

“It’s not just about you tonight, is it, pet?” His voice had dipped lower, the drawl more pronounced. “ Don’t you think I deserve to feel good too?”

I almost sat up , nervous and jittery because I couldn’t see him and I startled when cool hands gripped my waist and shoulder, holding me down.

“What’s wrong, angel?”

I swallowed.

“Nothing.. I... I’m sorry. “

“Colour?”

I blanked out for a second.

“Red for stop, yellow if you want me to slow down and green if you’re okay to continue, angel.” He said gently.

I nodded again.

“Words, angel. I need you to use your words at all times.”

“Yes...” I whispered.

“Yes?” He prompted.

��Yes sir.” I answered quietly.

“Good girl.” He whispered and I felt the light touch of his lips against mine. I felt my breathing even out at the gentle caress. Fingers fluttered over my hand and I felt him gently loosen my grip on the sheets.

He gripped my wrist gently and moved it over my shoulder.

“I want your hand over your shoulder at all times. Can you do that for me? If you can’t , I can restrain them for you.”

I was already moving them down almost unconsciously. He hummed, pulling my wrist back up and I flushed. I wasn’t going to be able to do that.

“Please ..tie them up for me.” I whispered.

He didn’t reply and I felt him move away , my body suddenly cold from his absence , and I took deep steadying breaths. I felt myself relaxing against the covers, lips parting as I stopped trying to hold my hands up, just letting them rest on the pillows , limbs loose.

The touch of something silky to my wrists, made me jump, but fingers pressed my hips, stroking gently.

“Shush....its okay , baby. Let me just take care of you, yeah?” Taehyung’s voice came from right near my ear and I exhaled.

“Yes sir.” I whispered and he laughed softly, the sound mellifluous against my lobe.

“Now you’re learning. ” He pressed another kiss to the corner of my mouth, lips slightly wet and forceful as he breathed , “ Good girl.” and I felt the words all over me, like euphoria in my veins, spreading to every part of me.

It was blissful, the way warmth spread through me, my limbs going lax as I felt him carefully tie my wrists to the bed post, the thought if tugging on them didn’t even cross my mind.

All I wanted to do was to stay here forever, my head clear and thoughts practically nonexistent. It was like nothing existed, except for the endless dark I was in and the touch of his fingers on me. The music of his voice as he whispered praise against my skin.

I felt bereft when he moved away but he was back before I could fully miss him.

“I’m going to touch you baby.....Going to make you feel good. Is that okay?”

“Yes sir.”

“Perfect.”

I heard the pop of a bottle opening.

I felt the bed dip as he climbed on, kneeling near my legs.

A few seconds later, fingers lightly gripped my ankle, warm and smooth. lifting my foot up and placing it on his lap.

My lips parted in a filthy moan when he dug his fingertips into my ankle, smoothing out the skin and pain blossomed where he squeezed, the muscles protesting as he gently massaged the knots away.

“I’m going to get familiar with your body first.... wanna know what makes you feel good.”

“Okay Tae....” I breathed out.

A sharp spank on my thigh made me jolt in surprise and I gasped, heat licking its way up my leg and making me clench my thighs together . The pain was sharp and stinging and it made my eyes water just a bit.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to call me, is it pet?” He sounded annoyed and I felt myself scrambling to apologize.

“No..I’m sorry ... sir.. I’m...”

“I’m being very patient with you , pet. Next time, I won’t stop with one.”

I nodded before quickly remembering.

“Yes sir.”

He hummed and went back to massaging my feet, first one then the other. I relaxed against the pillows, feeling my eyes grow heavy as he worked his magic on me and time became insignificant.

I didn’t know how long I’d laid there and it was only when his hands moved up, past my knee, across my thighs and then closer my inner thighs that I began to come to myself.

“Can I take your panties off baby....” He whispered, voice hoarse.

I was breathing through my mouth, slightly dizzy.

“Yes, sir.” I whispered. Fingers hooked on the edged of the fabric, tugging my underwear down and off me swiftly. Somehow everything inside me shifted when I felt him against my skin. The soothing pleasure disappeared, replaced by apprehension .

“Beautiful .” He whispered and I swallowed, nervous and scared.

I opened my mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t come.

“What’s wrong angel? You alright?” He asked urgently.

I swallowed again.

“I’m...Sir... I... what are you... I want...” I couldn’t get my thoughts in order and the panic rose again.

“Its okay baby... tell me what’s wrong?” He whispered gently, and I bit my lips.

“Red.... I... I’m not... I can’t ....”

He moved away at once and a second later, the blindfold came off . i blinked at the dim light and Taehyung was kneeling right next to me, worry clouding his eyes .

“You okay?” He whispered.

“Can you ....on top of me? I’m just.. I feel so cold.” I whispered.

Taehyung smiled, wide before nodding.

“That’s fine. Anything for you...”

The next second, I felt him move on top of me, hot and warm, heavy and firm and solid as he pressed into me. I wanted to touch him, to reach out and grip him and anchor myself because I felt like I was about to float away.

“Should I take the restraints' off?, “ Taehyung read my mind so swiftly , it left me reeling. “ Do you wanna touch me?” He whispered and I nodded.

“Okay... as you wish baby...we’re doing it your way... okay?”

“Okay...sir.”

“You can call me Tae....” He said warmly and I felt myself relax a bit more. He pulled on the restraints quickly and my wrists dropped to the bed t once, my shoulder beginning to throb a little but even the pain was muted, barely there.

He massaged my wrists gently, pressed a kiss to them and I felt affection bloom inside me along with regret.

“I’m sorry...” I whispered.

Taehyung glanced at me in surprise and shook his head.

The first time isn’t going to be perfect. It happens.” He kissed me again, gently but firmly, fingers fluttering down my waist .

“First time?” I grinned. “ Wow I didn’t know I was your first, Alpha Kim.”

“First time with each other , brat.” He lightly spanked my hips and I yelped.

“I’m beginning to think, this whole spanking thing is more for you, than me...” I wrinkled my nose.

Taehyung grinned.

“I prefer paddles and whips actually. “ He said coolly and I felt my heart leap to my throat.

“I-”

“Don’t worry... only with absolutely willing partners.” He winked.

And then he groaned, eyes flashing red.

“Fuck....” He groaned.

“What’s wrong...?” I whispered, worried.

“Can I touch you... I think... It’s ... My wolf... “ He muttered and I smiled wrapping both arms around his next and drawing him down for a kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is this okay....? Fuck...” Taehyung grunted and I keened as his fingers slipped in deeper, stroking and searching and I blinked away tears, face pressed into the pillow as I lay face down on the bed. Taehyung was on me, finger fucking me so well that I’d already cum twice and now my limbs weren’t functioning at all.

“Okay...just please....” I groaned when another finger traced my entrance and a sob got wrenched out of me when he dipped it in lightly.

“Doing so well for me baby, taking my fingers so well... Can’t wait to see you wrapped around my knot....gonna claim you and fuck you so well, my pretty , pretty pet...” He pushed the fourth finger in and the stretch made me wail.

Taehyung had a filthy , filthy mouth and everything he said made me want to cry. The stretch of four fingers was too much and I had to grit my teeth, breathe through my mouth just to stay in my senses. I took deep shuddering breaths, willing myself not to start sobbing.

“I’m so sorry... “ He kept apologizing, alternating the push and pull of his fingers with wet, messy kisses along my shoulder. I groaned , eyes heavy as I tried to stay conscious.

“..’s too much...” I slurred, my eyes wet with tears and lashes damp.

“Just a bit more... I don’t wanna hurt you when I... when we ... please baby...just hold on a little yeah...” Taehyung sounded desperate.

I sobbed out in protest when his fingers went in deeper, cleaving my insides and trying to make room where there was none. It went on for a few minutes and then his thumb was brushing my clit, lightly , barely a brush and I was cumming again, clamping around his fingers so hard that I felt like I was crumbling on the inside.

“Okay.... “ Taehyung kept his fingers inside me, soothing me through the tremors., “ I think... It’s okay... I think this should work.” He pressed one last kiss to my shoulder and I made to turn over but he held my shoulders down.

“Let’s do it like this, angel.... It’ll hurt less.” He whispered and then he was pulling his fingers out , spreading my thighs apart so he could lie in between and I whimpered at the emptiness, feeling like I’d stepped right off a cliff , but before I could hit bottom and shatter, he was on me, grounding me, gripping me tight as he pressed his hardness against me.

“You ready?” He whispered.

I managed a weak nod and a second later he pushed in .

It felt a little like being stabbed straight through, only a million times more pleasurable.

And then he was gripping my waist, lifting me up and moving me till I was on all fours, staring at the rungs of his four poster bed. He moved his hips gently, pulling out just a bit before pushing back in and I felt my eyes roll back in my head.

He was so fucking big even the four fingers felt like too little of a stretch.

His hands came around to grasp the lower rung of the bed.

“Put the handcuffs on me .” He said from behind me and I exhaled harshly, trying not to collapse into the bed as I fumbled with the metal restraints. My head felt heavy, my body thrumming with adrenaline and exhaustion and I could feel the messy wetness between my thighs, dripping down the length of my legs and pooling on the soft white sheets.

When the handcuffs had locked both his wrists in place he shuddered behind me. He was so big inside me that I couldn’t even clench down on him, my inner walls stretched so wide around him that I felt like I was inch away from coming apart.

“We’re doing this... any last wishes?”

I smiled despite myself , shaking my head.

“Is it too late to say I don’t put out on the first date?” I choked out and his laughter, warm and inviting flooded my senses, a better aphrodisiac than the hour long foreplay he’d subjected me to.

“Is it too early to say that I want to do this to you, everyday for the rest of our lives.” He whispered and I felt my eyes widen in shock, the confession so unexpected that I actually nearly pulled away from him.

But before I could fully relish what I’d just heard, he was gripping the bed hard and pulling out before shoving right back in.

“Oh, God...” I choked out as he fucked into me, each thrust carefully sharp and strong. He had insane control over his hips, the steady staccato of his body hitting the back of my thigh, loud and incessant in the quiet darkness.

“Touch yourself for me baby..... come on make yourself cum so I can make you mine...” He said harshly and I felt the warm wetness of his lips against my shoulder, kissing and leaving wet trails as he mouthed at the skin there.....and I slipped a finger between my legs , rubbing lightly at my clit , my body screaming in protest because I had long fallen over the edge of overstimulation and this was just too much , too fast now. But I kept my eyes closed, listening to his voice as I gently rubbed circles on the swollen nub at my entrance and when I felt my orgasm hit, my eyes flew open.

“Tae, I’m....” I began , raising my head as I began to clamp down on him . My eyes widened as the hands in front of me transformed, claws popping out from each finger , razor sharp and deadly.

I closed my eyes in terror, a scream getting torn out of me just as Taehyung growled behind me, pushing hard inside me, going deeper than I thought was even possible. The lips at my shoulder moved, pulling back and my eyes flew open in shock when twin pricks of pain bloomed on the junction between my neck and shoulder.

Fear broke through the adrenaline fueled mess of pleasure in my head and I whimpered when he sank his fangs into me, teeth breaking skin without any effort and the hot, warm wetness of my blood as it gushed out of the tear. as right.

Humans did not belong with wolves because this...this was just so effing painful.

And then before I could fully recover from the pain of the bite, I felt him shifting inside me. And then somehow he seemed to be getting bigger, inside me.

“I’m so sorry , baby.” Taehyung whispered, “ Can you get the handcuffs.?”

I pulled on the safety in the handcuff and he pulled his hands away, gripping my waist and lightly turning me over till I was on my side, panting as he stayed inside me . We lay there, staring at the side wall, him spooning me as he struggled to stay still inside me, because everytime he moved, I whimpered.

“Just a few minutes.... I... I can’t pull out for a few minutes.” He whispered, now licking away at the blood on the bite mark and I couldn’t bring myself to respond because it felt a little like I was being split into two.

“How... how much bigger are you going to get?” I choked out , vaguely aware that he was still cumming inside me that there was so much of it that it was beginning to drip out of me.

Taehyung didn’t reply and I closed my eyes.

The pain was building , now, steady and sure, slowly replacing the pleasure and I wondered briefly if I should have gotten drunk for this. But Taehyung had been very adamant about me being sober.

I flinched when he shifted a little.

“So that’s it then ? We’re werewolf married now?” I choked out.

Taehyung chuckled.

“Yes, we’re werewolf married.” He said gently and moved to touch my face but the movement jostled him inside me and I let out a low keen of pain. Taehyung froze.

“Does it hurt too bad?” he asked worriedly.

I grimaced.

“Not the most pleasant wedding I’ve been to.....But definitely prefer it to getting shot though.” I choked out and he laughed, stilling quickly when I whined at the movement.

“I’m sorry. Don’t worry...Once I can move, i’ll get you the pain killers and I’ll clean the bite mark too. It’s not too bad. Don’t think you’ll need stitches even. “

I blinked back tears as the pain intensified steadily.

I felt my eyes grow heavy , exhaustion slowly seeping in along with the pain.

“I think... I’m gonna pass out.” I whispered.

Taehyung kissed me gently.

“That’s probably your body offering you some respite. You should probably take it up on that offer. “ He whispered and I couldn’t even muster a smile.

Instead I closed my eyes and let the darkness wash over me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Did I really just write 7k of bad porn ? Why yes...yes I did.

Also poor taehyung, my baby really tried to make it good for her :’(

As always comments are love <3 Please show me more love <3 I’m needy.....

#taehyung smut #bts werewolf au #bts werewolf #taehyung werewolf au #bts fics #bts au #bts smut #taehyung fics #taehyung reactions

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 4 years ago

Note

Oh damn. Your drabble "Drowning" has given me IDEAS....

I can just see hero managing to stop villain from killing Supervillain, but Supervillain still being injured/ getting pneumonia from the water in his lungs... and how awkward it would be for hero to take care of someone who'd just tried to drown her.

This idea is fantastic! I hope that this was an ask to do it. If not, I apologize, but this was just such a great idea!

May get a little sad at the end (spoiler alert)

Drowning Part 2

Part 1

Warnings: concussion, CPR, death/killing mentions, descriptions of how someone was going to kill another (never acted upon), classic sick and delirious whumpee, sedatives mention, descriptions of medical setting and practices, mentions of loved ones death, pills (tylenol), hallucinations

Villain grabbed the knife, his fingers clutching the hilt until they glowed white. Supervillain was breathing heavily, yet he was still unconscious- lips parted and blue.

Hero also moved forward, her legs tensed and ready to pounce. The scene registered in her mind very quickly. The knife, the villain, and the heaving supervillain... blood and then the inevitable stop of breath.

It didn't have to be inevitable.

Hero rushed forward, grabbing a metal rod, and landed the blow directly to Villain's temple. He faltered, letting go of the knife and collapsing into Hero's awaiting arms.

"M Hhh," he breathed, bleeding head lolling in the crease of Hero's elbow. His eyes shifted from focused to unfocused in a matter of seconds, only to fluctuate back. Here flipped out her phone and called her medic.

"Hero! You alright?"

"Yeah I'm fine. Get to Supervillain's base. It's empty. Villain has a bad concussion, he's not entirely lucid right now..."

"Oh uh, um... I'm on my way." The line clicked.

Hero laid Villain against the wall, cupping his heavy head for a moment before tending to the unmoving supervillain. He wasn't breathing.

Hero quickly felt for a pulse and upon finding a soft thump-thump, she tilted his head to the side. Water immediately gushed out of his nose and mouth. He sputtered a little bit, but never woke.

Hero pressed her lips against Supervillain's after rolling his head back to the center. She breathed into his mouth four times, checked to see if he began to breathe. No.

She continued this. Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, check... breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, check... until the supervillain gasped for breath, choking and coughing out water and mucus.

Supervillain jerked himself forward, glancing at Hero to Villain and then back at Hero.

"H-" another coughing fit with more water. He started to gag, dry-heaving until tears spiked his eyes and nausea rose in his throat. When he was done, he scrambled to his feet and tumbled towards the open door to his base.

Hero returned to Villain's side and scooped her friend up. Medic wasn't there, so she decided to take him herself. Caressing his head, gently, she followed Supervillain outside and to her base.

The next day, Hero was walking along a sidewalk on her way home from visiting Villain in the hospital. It was a nice day, a great change from her near-death experience with Supervillain the day prior... Hero shuddered, trying not to think of the agonizingly cold water, the darkness lapping at her vision, knocking Villain out... the whole ordeal.

Knocking Villain out... Hero replayed the conversation she just had with her very ungrateful ex-frenenemy (apparently?). The half-dazed cusses and just plain rudeness from the bedridden patient were more than enough to make her feel annoyed. She saved Villain from committing an act that would have surely land him in jail- if not a mental facility. Especially the way the concussed villain talked about killing Supervillain. Apparently, Villain was going to slowly kill him with the knife, decorating major body parts with cuts and blood.

Hero sighed. That sadistic little turd that couldn't just walk away-

A groan.

Hero looked up to find herself walking in front of an alleyway. It was dark, if that's not a little too cliche, and eerily quite. Not even a stray cat knocked over a garbage can like in every classical alleyway scene.

Hero entered the alley stealthily, opening her holster and lying her hand over her gun. She looked behind every dumpster and every cardboard box. Finding nothing, she proceeded to leave, but two hands grabbed her mouth and throat.

Being yanked backwards sent a spark of adrenaline through Hero's veins. She turned and thrashed, but her attacker was unrelenting.

"Let me go!" Hero yelled when a large hand slipped away from her mouth. The other hand went away too. Pulling her gun out, Hero spun around, only to have a fist meet her face.

The impact startled her, but not as much as the body leaning heavily against her's.

The body heaved and gasped, heat radiating off its skin. Hero looked down and took in the features. She couldn't see a face, but it was obviously a guy. Hero dragged the man over to the only bare spot against the brick wall and leaned him aaginst it. She began to step away, only to realize that his head was resting against her shoulder.

"Hey," Hero mumured and grabbed the man's cheeks, holding him up, examining his face...

Hero nearly dropped the pale face.

It was Supervillain.

Also known as the man who tried to kill her.

Hero, for a brief second of primitive logic, contemplated leaving the feverish man to deal with himself. But guilt, and maybe a twinge of annoyance, drove her the complete opposite direction.

After all, she didn't just save him and give Villain a concussion only for him to die, right?

Yet as she scooped her attacker up, two portions of her brain- her sensible part and her empathetic part- played tug-of-war with each other. Drop him, bring him home, drop him, bring him home...

Of course the empathetic clump of cells won and she bridal-carried the shivering supervillain to her apartment.

She set Supervillain on her beige couch with a blanket strewn over his lap. He just had a cold right? She brought him some tylenol and a glass of water.

"Hey," she said softly, almost a whisper. Supervillain seemed so disconnected that she was afraid that she would startle him. His eyes were glassy and had an abnormal, faraway look.

Supervillain didn't reply, or look at Hero. His gaze was fixated on a corner of the living room.

Then, like a bomb suddenly going off, he started to cough.

He coughed until blood, water and mucus gushed from his mouth. He hacked it up like a waterfall. Hero stood up, linked her hands under his shoulders and hauled him into a better sitting position.

He coughed until he was sobbing, screaming. He fell back against the cushions, sputtering and crying, with tears streaming down his face. Each breath seemed to be a workout- shaky and shallow. He never made eye contact with Hero. Just stared ahead, coughing and crying.

"Are you okay?" Hero asked, loudly, but she still doubted the sick supervillain heard her. She placed a hand against his back, rubbing circles. It was just a cold- she was certain.

But he was so hot.

So unnaturally hot.

Hero frowned and went to grab a thermometer. She placed it against Supervillain's lips, but he didn't open them.

"Come on now," she coaxed gingerly and rubbed his flushed cheeks. She sighed. She didn't even need to know the temperature to know that the sick man infront of her had a fever.

Supervillain parted his mouth open and allowed the pointed metal edge to find a home under his tongue. He tried to move it around, but his resolve was too weak. Hero held it there until it beeped. 102.9

102.9 degrees fahrenheit. Nearly 103 degrees...

"Oh gosh," Hero exclaimed and dumped a couple tablets out of the tylenol bottle. She coaxed them onto Supervillain's bacteria-lidden tongue and pressed the glass of water against his bottom lip.

"Drink," she whispered. Supervillain obeyed and took a sip just big enough to force the pills down.

"Good job," she praised and lowered Supervillain down. Only for him to start coughing again.

"Take it easy, honey," she murmured. Honey? Where did that come from? Come on Hero, she scolded herself. The guy just tried to drown you the other day; you don't have to make this even more awkward or embarrassing.

Supervillain leaned into her. His firey body nearly made Hero begin to sweat. His eyelids drooped, breaths slowed, and soon he was alseep in her arms.

Hero knelt there by the armrest, alone with her intense thoughts. She rubbed his moist hair, allowing her nails to scratch at his scalp. Even alseep, she hoped it gave some comfort.

Not that he exactly deserved comfort. Villain was in a hospital bed, sleeping off sedatives and painkillers greedily and dealing with a major concussion. She thought of the grim night the doctors and her shared. Restraining a delirious villain, the MRI, all the tests... and then finally given the clear to inject a moderate sedative dose to help him sleep.

But Hero still gave the undeserved comfort. Maybe she was too empathetic, too caring and generous for her own good, but that matter could be taken care of another day.

Supervillain awoke a few hours later to Hero'd strawberry smelling hair resting against the top of his head. Her arms dangled across his chest as if she was giving him a hug from behind. She fell alseep mid-hug.

Of course, the supervillain did not register this interaction as that. He imagined it more as encompassing tendrils of ivy tying him down to a foreign object. He squirmed, trying to break free of Mother Nature's restraints, but he was too sick, too weak, and too helpless to do much more than move around.

Hero then woke up also, pulling her arms- the so-called vines- off the terrified supervillain's body.

"Good morning," she yawned and pressed a hand against her ward's forehead. Supervillain didn't seem to know what to do. He wavered between pushing forward into the hand- or the frustratingly threatening boulder to him- or pulling away. He chose the later, jerking away only to send a rush of mind reeling dizziness through his head.

He swayed, or he thought he did for he was still lying against the couch as if a magnetic force attached him to it. Reaching out weakly to grab Hero's hands, he closed his eyes.

"You are so sick," Hero cooed, her voice a mixture of both anxiety and tranquility. Supervillain gripped her tighter and tried to pull himself up to her.

"Shh, shh," Hero whispered. "Sleep."

Supervillain seemed like he nodded. Or was it due to him loosening up as he fell asleep again? Hero didn't know, nor cared.

She stood up and laid a blanket over Supervillain before heading into the kitchen to make a bland chicken soup and a small bowl of rice.

After the meal was done, about thirty minutes later, Hero returned to Supervillain on the couch with a portable plastic table and the food. She propped the still sleeping man into a sitting position before awakening him.

Supervillain blearily opened his eyes, blinked, and settled his gaze on Hero's eyes. He twitched his head upwards, but that was all. Hero didn't even think he noticed the steaming food on the table beside him.

"Want to eat?" She asked, more to herself than anyone. Supervillain looked at her with those wide, brown eyes like he did right before he attempted to drown her.

"Mnh," Supervillain groaned. "M chest hurts."

"Your chest hurts?"

"Mhm."

Hero tentatively lifted his shirt, but the feverish man didn't seem to care, or realize the possible intimate gesture.

"Let's take this off, shall we?"

Supervillain nodded, which made Hero nervous. Why was he being so compliant?

Nevertheless, she striped his shirt off and examined his ribcage. She had him take a couple deep breaths, but the movement seemed to exhaust him further. His ribs seemed a bit swollen, but nothing was broken.

Then a horrid realization dawned on her.

He had pneumonia. Most likely due to the water still festering in his lungs.

"Ooookay," Hero breathed. She would deal with that later, maybe call Medic- no, no one could know that she was housing the Man of Terrors- but first she had to get some food into Supervillain's stomach.

So she spooned, mouthful by mouthful into Supervillain's parched mouth slowly. She cleaned any broth dripping down his chin with a washcloth.

After he finished eating, Supervillain was so exhausted that he nearly fell alseep with his neck bent awkwardly. Hero readjusted him to a laying position, but elevated him slightly to ease his ragged breathing.

Pneumonia.

That would explain the harsh breathing and the daunting fever. Gosh, was he sick and so sudden too. Hero sat next to Supervillain, rubbing his hair back from his sweaty forehead like a caretaker.

Even though it was awkward, given the circumstances and past events, Hero stayed with him all night. Easing his pain, feeding him small bits of rice and soup, taking off blankets and putting them back on, wet washcloths and fans. Sometimes she would doze off on his chest, but never for long.

Whatever connection and trust built up between the two that night was unbelievable. Extraordinary, even. But still, nothing, not even with the newfound relationship, prepared Hero for the one simple and innocent yet insanely heartbreaking word that sickly Supervillain uttered.

"Mother?" He squeaked, looking up at Hero with eyes so full of love and relief that they looked about to burst. Hero felt her heart break, shattered to a million pieces as her guest extended his hand to her face.

"Am I in heaven?" He asked in such a childish manner. He looked around, but frowned at his surroundings. "Mother? You're dead right? Am I dead too?" The previous chirpy voice lowered to Supervillain's desolate montone.

Hero didn't know what to say, for Supervillain gazed at her with all the intent he could physically muster.

She could give into the hallucination and play along, but guilt would eat her alive. But, she thought it rude to just blatantly say, "No. You're mother is dead. It's me, Hero."

Supervillain whimpered, chin trembling as he began to cry. Hero winced, but then realized:

She said those words outloud and now she had a grieving, delirious, and sick supervillain to tend to. Great, just great.

#villain whumpee #supervillain whumpee #hero caretaker #tw death mention #sick whumpee #pneumonia #writing #heros and villains #feverish whumpee #feverish villain #hero x supervillain #maybe?#delirious whumpee

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felswritingfire · 4 years ago

Text

April Brain Rot #11

Prompts:

74. Rome

46. "Hold me just a little longer."

15. Tackle Hug

Rook Hunt x Reader

Summery: The Gods are waging war and you wait for your God to come back patiently. But, when the war leaks into the mortal realm, will he be able to get to you in time?

TW: Blood; Violence; Threats; Religious Themes (very loose)

Word Count: 1,594

A note from Fel: This one, I've had done for over a damn week??? Like, I love Rook to death and my girlfriend really likes this one so like * high fives self * ALSO I LOW KEY WANT TO DO A SERIES WITH THIS??? IT'S JUST- I HAD SO MUCH FUN (if y'all want to send in any requests centered around this, you will own my whole H E A R T)

It had been a long time since he had waved to you, walking off into the forest, his bow slung over his shoulder with his quiver of arrows hanging from his hip. You had watched as the shadows devoured your god that night.

The seasons had changed and yet the angry clouds, rumbling with thunder lingered throughout each of them. Now, a thin frost had covered the fields, leaving you to shiver and pull your shawl closer to you. You stood at the start of the forest, the looming trees acting as a wall. You grip your basket tight in your arms, shifting the dried meat and the few fruits and cheeses you managed to save, the loaf of bread still warm. Your friends had tried to tell you not to go- told you that the gods would not be back for a long time. The war in their world was too important. You knew that. You knew that the first time a shower of red poured down on you and the fields you were tending to. You had watched as your neighbors fields faded, still hesitant to pray to lord Epel for good harvests. And, yet, you couldn’t just give up- not on your god, not on the one who so gently took your hand that night and saved you from the bandits who had burned your village to the ground; who burned your family to a crisp.

“You have no need to fear,” he had said to you, picking you up in his arms and cradling your head close to his heart. “I will protect you no matter what, for you looked up to me and asked for me to save you, Mon Clair de Lune.”

He had taken you to this village, where the gods held a special spot for the people- giving you the home closest to the forest. He had asked you if you knew how to draw a bow and you told him you did. You think that’s when the two of you truly connected.

The laughs and shrieks of joy as he would chase you around the fields and trees just to wrap his arms around your waist were memories you held dear to you everytime he went back into the forest to answer Lord Vil’s calls (no one could deny Venus his wishes).

“I will be back, Mon Clair de Lune. Je t'aime.” He whispered into your hair, running his hands along the expanse of your back.

It had made you nervous when he was hesitant to let go, like he was afraid he wasn’t going to come back. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and cheeks before turning and waving with a soft smile.

You sigh, another shiver shot through you as the wind picked up. Your eyes squeezing shut and you blow a breath of white air out from your lips. Maybe you’d see if Ace (you refused to call him Lord Ace, you were much too close for that by now) could dial down on the winds- though it might not even be him dictating these winds for once.

You sigh, turning to go back to your home when you hear a strange gurgling noise to your side. You furrow your brow- it almost sounds like a creek, you think as you turn to see where the noise was coming from. There, off in the distance, a black mass pulsated and writhed. You felt yourself go stiff as it jerked to and fro, red dots rolling around the expanse of its flesh until they finally pointed forward to look at you. The basket in your hands dropped as you turned to dash somewhere away from the village, as you hear flesh tearing and a bone rattling shriek leave from somewhere behind you.

You rush past the fruit fields and through the flower beds, praying that Jack could forgive you as you feel the delicate stems crunch beneath your foot. The sound of thundering steppes racing behind you causes a ball to form in your throat, pushing yourself to run faster and faster.

You had hit the creek, the bottoms of your wool pants and boots frigid in the rush of cold water as you slosh through it. You’re almost to the other side when you stop: yellow eyes stare at you through the leaves of the bushes. The shrieking comes to a stop behind you and you look over your shoulder to see the black mass staring past you as you turn back. The eyes had moved, now well above the branches of the tree, you can make out long arms, veins straining underneath skin, and white teeth glinting in the light of the early morning sun.

You nearly begin to rush up stream when a voice says, “I wouldn’t.”

You freeze, looking back at the pair of eyes to see a long snout peeking out from the bushes.

It’s mouth smiles, showing off sharpened fangs, as it steps further into the light. It towers over you, hunching over as it pushes branches out of the way. “You look delicious- all of the humans here do.” It hums to itself as it takes more heavy steps towards you. “Maybe it’s because you all have been blessed by the gods-” it throws its’ head back to release a wheezy laugh- “the ones that left you to fight a war they won’t win.”

“The gods will win.” You’re surprised with how much confidence you say it, but you try not to let it show as you watch it tilt it’s wolf-like head to the side.

“Not if you are all dead. Gods have nothing without their worshippers, you know?”

You shiver from the mix of the cold water and the realization, crinkling your nose at the smell of rotten meat and old blood that wafts from it’s hulking body. You look up at it, glaring. “Do-” you almost gag at the smell and it almost seems to laugh- “do not doubt the strength of the gods. They’ll come back to us and they will save us no matter what.”

“You put so much stock into them, human.” It crouched on its haunches, sliding a hand under your trembling chin. “So cute and delicate.” You can hear the other behind you shuffle, grunts and wheezes following its movements. The other in front of you laughs again as it watches your gaze begin to shift. “Do not take your eyes off of me.” Your eyes stare at it, swirling with a dread that it finds positively delectable. “I will take your head without you realizing it.”

Your vision began to grow glassy as its maw stretched wide; hot, humid breath, that smelled of rot, hitting your face as a row of giant teeth showed itself to you. You clasp your hands together, praying with all your might, with every ounce of your soul, that Rook would come and save you. That your huntsman would come and shoot down the beasts that wished to devour you.

Just like that night when he had first saved you.

"Si ma lune prie pour que je vienne, je le ferai.”

The creature screamed in pain, the sheer volume shaking your bones and piercing deep into your skull. It shoved you away, your body falling under the frigid stream of the water. You hear a muffled scream from above as you break the surface of the water. You gasp as you suck in air, dragging yourself to the side of the bank where Rook rushes to meet you.

You're leaning on your elbows as you catch your breath when Rook’s body barrels into yours, knocking you back with a loud ‘oof!’ coming from you. His face nestles into your neck and you swear you feel him tremble. “R- Rook?” You wrap your arms around him, running them along his back to see for any wounds. “Are-” you breathe out a cold breath- “are you ok?”

He’s muttering in that tongue he adores so much (French- you remember him calling it), squeezing you tighter.

“Rook?”

“Hold me just a little while longer.”

You freeze, your eyes blurring with tears at his tone: devoid of everything carefree and casual. He sounded like he was in pain. You wrap your arms tighter around him, burying your face into his neck.

“I am so sorry, Mon Clair de Lune. I should have come sooner.” He pulled away, his hands cupping your face as he pressed his forehead against yours, his green eyes glassy. “Were you afraid?”

You blink, trying to keep the tears from spilling over your bottom lashes. “I was.” You close your eyes. “But, I knew you would come for me. I knew the gods wouldn’t abandon us.”

He laughs, soft and tired. “You are too important for me to let you die so easily.”

“And I will not die so easily as long as you will it.” The quiet that settles between you two is gentle and you can’t bring yourself to want to leave his embrace despite the cold of your wet clothes seeping into your skin and making your bones ache. You open your eyes to look into his. “Is… Is this truly going to be a war?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I’ll stay by your side. No matter what.”

“And I shall protect you no matter what, Mon Clair de Lune.”

He presses his lips against yours and you let yourself melt into it, holding onto the last semblance of peace that may allow you rest for a long time.

Thank you for reading!

#Twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twst #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst rook #rook hunt #rook x reader #x reader #non bianry reader #gender nuetral reader #not a reblog #April brain rot #tw: religious themes #sfw #tw: threats #tw: blood #tw: violence

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roseraintears · 4 years ago

Text

The sea

Feedback is apprechiated ;)

Percy was happy. The giant war was over, he was studying with Annabeth so

they could move to new Rome soon. He was happy….. until it happened.

The thunderstorm should have been a warning, a sign that the lord of the sky was angry but unfortunately Percy was tired of having to deal with the gods so he chooses not to notice it. He cursed himself for that later.

He had stood up early that morning, awoken by another dream about the hell he and Annabeth had gone through. His mom had already been in the kitchen and he was greeted by her with a warm smile.“ Bad dreams?“, She had asked softly. Percy had only needed to nod and she pulled him into a warm hug. He loved her hugs, he loved that she had forgiven him for being away for so long, he loved his mother for everything. She was the reason the sea inside him was calm.

“Thanks, mom I just wanted to get some fresh air.“, He had told while departing carefully. Percy was grateful for her but he still did not want her to worry too much. If he had only known that this was the last time his mom would hug him, he would have stayed in her arms forever.

Percy had taken his jacket and walked outside and then………

Thunder, a white light crashing down behind him throwing him forward with the price.

He lay still on the street while people around him ran out of their houses screaming in panic.

Percy‘s body was burning, he felt blood running down his forehead but all he could think about was his mom who had been exactly where the explosion went off.

The police later assumed that a lightning strike had hit the apartment by accident but Percy knew better. He was brought to a hospital even though his burns were only small.

He had insisted that he wanted to stay.“Please I have to see if my mom and my stepdad are okay!“, He had begged the paramedics but they did not stop their attempts to get him on the stretcher.“The fire brigade will find them kid. Everything is gonna be okay“, One of them promised but Percy saw in her eyes that it was a hollow promise. His heart ached in despair and when the doors of the ambulance closed tears fell down his cheeks.

The proof came when the police visited him after the doctors had checked him. They looked devastated, of course, no one wants to tell a son the message that his pregnant mother was dead. Percy took the news with a small nod. He could not do more not even cry. He had been through so much that maybe this last thing had broken something inside him. He could not believe that they would do this, that they would kill his mother after he saved them. His thoughts wander to Paul and his unborn baby sister that he has lost as well and the sea in him slowly starts rising.

Annabeth soon heard about his suspicion She stormed into the small hospital room, her face tear-stained. He immediately wrapped her in a hug like it is her that is going through this tragedy.“Percy…...I…..I‘m so sorry.“, She sobbed.“It is not you fault wise girl….he did this.“, Percy claimed and he is surprised by the deadly calmness in his voice.

Annabeth looked at him in confusion but then she understood. Her eyes widened in shock.“No…... Percy……..he wouldn‘t……..“ She tried to say but her unbelieving in her own words stopped her. They both know Nico Di Angelo and they both know his mother died. Percy felt the waves crashing again his chest, he felt them threatening to burst out and so did his rage.“ Come on Annabeth you know Zeus. He is an arrogant asshole who just cares about himself! I fought years for the gods, I went through hell for the gods and now they… they.“, he wasn‘t able to speak anymore, there was too much rage boiling up inside him. He finally processed what happened and the sea in him roared with a desire. A desire for revenge. Annabeth pressed herself closer to him in comfort. She is scared, Percy‘swords scare her and yet she knows that there is nothing she can say to help him. She just hoped that she wasn‘t about to lose him.

Percy was grateful for his girlfriend but he knew that he couldn‘t stay. The longer he stayed, the more his body was trembling and the sea roared louder.“ I want to talk to Zeus. Now.“, He told Annabeth could. She let him go her eyes full of something he never saw in them before.

Panic.

“ No Percy that is not a good idea! If he is targeting you then yelling at him would be a great excuse for him to…….. hurt you.“, She answers logically as always but her tone fearful. Percy can‘t help but feel angry at her words.

“I‘m not scared of Zeus and if he wants to kill me he is welcome to try! My mom did not deserve this you know that as well as I so don‘t try to stop me!“, He nearly yells and he departs from her quickly. The storm in him screams in agreement and he looks forward to setting it free, Annabeth hated herself for making him angrier. She loved Sally too so why doesn‘t she support Percy? What did Zeus or any other god ever do for her? A small voice whispers that she just wants to keep him safe but she can also do that against the gods. She gently grabbed his hand and gave him a weak smile.“Okay just let me come with you.“, She pleads and Percy feeling a warm thankfulness for her calming his waves a bit, smiled back.

The man behind the desk looks at them in shock when they enter the building..“You shouldn‘t be here.“, he claims, his voice sounding a bit concerned. Percy felt cold amusement washing over him.

He killed scarier monsters than this old man. He takes out his sword without a second thought.“ We are exactly where we need to be now let us talk to Zeus or I will try my sword out on you.“, He threatened and did not notice Annabeth‘s worried glance.“You should listen to him! He once took down giant you are no match for him!“, Annabeth‘s voice sounded just as dark as his but she just wanted to keep Percy from doing something he would regret later. The man‘s eyes were stuck on the blade then wandered to Percy‘s eyes as if those could burn him.

He moved back a bit uncomfortable.“ Alright I‘ll let you up.“

Percy felt a sense of victory letting the water rise again. It pushed through his veins and when they entered the small elevator his body tensed from the power it made him feel. The gods would pay for taking his family. They would see what happened if someone pushed him too far. Maybe some days ago he wouldn‘t have felt this darkness but a few days ago he also had a mother. He was overtaken by memories, of her soft voice, her laugh and her hugs. He wondered if it would make her sad to see how angry he was but she certainly was also sad to be killed there was no difference anyway. The memories hurt but they also foiled his anger.

Percy and Annabeth walked down the way to the god's council in silence. The minor gods and nymphs whispered and pointed at them, their eyes worried some even pitiful. They all knew Percy‘s story and they all feared him.

Only Zeus and Hera were in the throne room When Percy walked in his eyes immediately landed on Zeus who glared at him in outrage.“HOW DARE YOU COM HERE?!“, The Lord of the skies shouted in fury but Percy did not even wince. Instead, he glared back.

"How dare you kill my mom?!." Percy spat back. Zeus only looked annoyed but the others gods looked at each other uneasily. Zeus shook his head like he wanted to get rid of a nasty fly.

" My boy, there are things that you don't understand. I'm sorry about your mother but sometimes cruelty is necessary to prevent worse.", Zeus explained and Percy felt as if he had been punched in the gut. How could this all immortal god talk about an innocent woman death like that? He felt disgusted at Zeus rising and Annabeth spoke it out.

"Sally Jackson was a mortal woman! How could she have been any danger to you?", Annabeth asked her voice full of angry disbelief."Well it was more about her child than her, "Hera responded and maybe there was a hint of regret in her voice.

" Silence wife!", Zeus told her harshly but Percy's blood already froze."You.....you killed her because of me?", He asked fear numbing his fury. He hoped that he had just heard wrong but he was the only child of Poseidon so they could only mean him. Zeus sighed as if this whole situation bored him."Apollo gave me a prophecy that said that she would have a child with Poseidon that could end my sign that is all you need to know." Zeus said defensively and a dam in Percy that held back the growing stormy sea finally broke. Zeus had killed his mother because of a prophecy?

Of course, gods always sed prophecies to harm others,

Percy balled his hands into fists his ears ringing." That is your excuse? you were scared so you just killed my pregnant mother in front of me? She was going to have a baby. She was happy and you killed just because of your god complex!" Percy accused Zeus, his voice trembling with anger. The waves were rushing through his veins and he can feel it in the veins of Zeus and Hera as well Not as much but it was there flowing through their veins like calm waves. "I told you you would not understand now leave before I make you Perseus.", Zeus commands but that only makes Percy turn to him.

Persues...

His mother called him that because she wanted him to have a happy life...

Percy slowly opens his hand his senses searching for a certain source of water. When they find it Percy feels a tug in his fingers. He smiles darkly at Zeus."I think you underestimate what I'm capable of my lord. you really should have killed me instead of my loved ones.", Percy muses and he follows the tug by moving his hand forward, pushing back the waves in Zeus body. The god looked stunned for a moment even confused but then his body god thrown back so that his head smashed against his thrown. The stone cracked and Annabeth gasped in shock together with the other gods." Percy!" Annabeth yelled terrified at her boyfriend's power. Percy couldn't hear her. He could only focus on Zeus and how he was held in place by an invisible force his force. He wondered how much he could hurt a god.

He moved his hand to the side and Zeus growled in anger as he tried to resist the painful control he was under. Percy took a deep breath he was not sure what too now should he let Zeus go? Should he show the gods mercy? Then he remembered his mother and how she had died in a fiery explosion. He looked into Zeus blue angry eyes and he calls for the water in the god's throat, His hand makes a gesture like he was strangling someone and immediately Zeus grasps his own his gasps for breath was music in Percy's ears. He feels Annabeth shaking him begging him to stop with sobs in her voice. Hera watches the situation as if it was a very interesting movie. She was not at Percy's side but seeing the man who cheated on her so often be choked to please her too much to interfere.

Percy loved seeing Zeus so helpless, he loved when his other hand made the gods nose bleed with golden blood. Zeus looked in much pain and Percy loved every second of it." Now you know what it feels like to be a demigod. It's painful and you wish that the suffering would end but it never does. How do you like that?", Percy jokes and closes his hand a bit more. Zeus face turned red his eyes nearly popping out of his skull."Percy stop....please stop." Annabeth pleads and there is something in her voice that makes him hesitate." Sally would not want you to do this!", Annabeth said her voice shaking in horror. The words echo in Percy's mind and painful guilt helps to dim his inner flame. What would his mother say if she could see him right now? He was harming others with his powers just like Zeus had.

His rage dies down like the sea after a long storm. He opens his hand and lets go of Zeus blood. The god nearly fell off his throne as he gasps for air. Percy still felt satisfaction at that sight. He turned to Annabeth who held onto his arm, her face pale from what she had seen." I'm sorry Annabeth.", He said and he really meant it. He shouldn't have scared her like this, he should have just told her not to come with him. Annabeth gently squeezes his hand. She understood Percy#s anger and she even shares it but she still prays that he will never lose himself to his power ever again. Zeus had regained his strength and his eyes blazed with electricity." YOU WILL DIE FOR THIS!", Zeus yells but Percy only felt a surge of frustration at those threats. After all that had happened to Zeus, he was still a god that was full of himself and would not learn anything from this. Percy looked at him coldly." No, I will not. Haven't you learned what happens when you make me angry?" Percy asked dangerously calm. He felt tired of all this talking and especially Zeus. He took Annabeth's hand and left as he suspected no one tries to stop them. The sea in his body has calmed down again but Zeus who is watching him from his throne can tell that he has changed. The sea can start raging again any moment and maybe it was Percy that the prophecy referred to. Maybe he will be the end of the gods after all.

@emilydaughterofapollo @perseusjackson-jasongrace @incorrectinfinity, @reading0mens @fictionalnormalcy

#dark percy #percy jackson #annabeth chase #sally jackson

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