#i hope they realize that they have to make a sequel now

[gunsatthaphan]

let 👏🏻 him 👏🏻 in 👏🏻

[swordgrace]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ cregan stark x fem!targtower!reader.

SYNOPSIS: a blissful marriage to an honorable man — it is more than you could’ve asked for. with the heir on the way, you make a request of your husband.

anonymous request. unofficial sequel to wolfsblood, dragonsblood.

{ FORMAT: one-shot — requested by anonymous.

{ WORD COUNT: 6.1K.

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), overprotective cregan, reader is pretty horny for cregan (valid), pregnancy, reader is pregnant, sexual activities while pregnant, cregan is a father in his mind, oral sex (fem!rec), cunnilingus, cregan loves munching, vaginal fingering, teasing, biting, hair-pulling kink, obvious size difference + size kink, slight face-riding, lots of cregan admiring in this one-shot, very soft ending + aftercare

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: I love writing for Cregan so much, y’all don’t understand the depths of my adoration for him. I churned this out pretty quickly, but I loved writing it, Father Cregan is the best! I hope that you all enjoy, & thank you for your support! ❤️

𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐩, 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬.

It was easier to breathe, you’d realized — King’s Landing had always been so stifling and pungent, the population too thick, the air acrid. Here, in the North, it was sprawling with open spaces, regions of untouched forest and unsettled countryside.

The bite of the harsh, Northern chill was not an easy adjustment to make after a lengthy life spent in Southern regions — the gnawing wind often seared your extremities, and it was not any easier on Silverwing. Fire ran through your veins, tempered by your tender heart and kindly disposition.

Your beloved husband would not have it any other way.

What had started as an unsteady, tumultuous betrothal marked by obvious bitterness from your family and wariness from his own House, had blossomed into a fruitful union. You couldn’t have asked for a better partner, and it made you realize how fortunate you were.

Snow was uncommon in most of the South, yet it remained constant in the North, mountains blanketed in endless horizons of white. It was a particularly icy day, winter winds stinging your cheeks, prickling your flesh with its pinpricks.

Mounds of pale, grayish fur swaddled your form, lined in the finest fleece, downy and plush against your skin. The trodden path to the Godswood was marked by frozen dirt, dusted over with a fresh layer of snowfall. Sprinkles of crystalline drops fell from the cloudy skies, and your breath emerged in hot wisps of air.

Lilac hues drifted toward the mountainous form of your husband, whose back was turned to you, swathed in the dappled pelt of a direwolf. Ice hung from his shoulder, a massive longsword of Valyrian Steel, an heirloom passed down through generations of House Stark.

Someday soon, it will pass to your firstborn son.

You recalled the night that you were wed, beneath the crimson leaves of the Weirwood Tree. It was serene, a moonlit dusk that struck the snow with an ethereal glow, your hands bound as you recanted your vows. It had been some moons now since that day, and you had only felt joy since then.

Cregan listened to the light crunch of snow beneath your footfalls as they reverberated throughout the Godswood, the pond frozen-over with a layer of ice. Pale bark marked with a foreign face peered back at him — this was a place that he and Rickon visited many times.

Before his little brother had passed, they pretended to fight wars here, forge their weapons, sticks found from the forest floor, and envision themselves as Knights. He could still feel his brother sometimes, his presence a whisper in the blood-red leaves, somewhere within the forest’s song.

Religion was a complicated thing for you. Your mother wielded the Faith of the Seven like a crudely-worn shortsword, letting it strike to her advantage even when it was rusty, at best. You had little interest in it, and Cregan seemed to respect your growing distance from your old roots. The Old Gods were his — you had nothing.

Inklings of snow drifted from the pale skies, growing darker as evening approached. The North became unyieldingly harsh after the sun began to wane, the sting of biting wind swirling around you, seeping into your bones. You were rather cold, but persisted for Cregan.

“Ser Rodrick said that I might find you here,” Silence dissipated, filled with the sound of your voice, as soft as feathers, a soothing balm. You stepped closer, beneath the boughs of the great tree, the canopy thick with vermillion leaves. “How are you faring?”

With Winter approaching, spreading its cold, brittle tendrils across the North, Cregan’s duties had increased tenfold. Preparing his people for winter, ensuring that food was plentiful, that they were safe — it was the burden of leadership, but there was no one better suited for it in your eyes.

“Well enough,” Cregan murmured, storm-colored hues drifting over the Weirwood tree before they turned to you, completely and utterly transfixed. You stole every wisp of air from his lungs with your beauty, clad in the trappings of his people. “I apologize for running off.”

An amiable smile crossed your features as you reached for your husband, slipping a gloved palm against the crook of his arm. “You needn’t apologize, husband. You are owed your solitude, and I wouldn’t dare tell you otherwise.” You have his bicep a gentle squeeze.

Cregan’s gaze softened, sparkling with a warmth reserved only for you, his beloved. Your presence always seemed to melt away his hardened exterior, but he much preferred it that way. He stepped closer, towering above you in all of his indomitable glory, craning down to press a kiss against your brow.

The gloved leather of his hand moved to cup your abdomen, and the growing life within. The joyous news of your pregnancy had been the talk of the North, the new Lady Stark, preparing to birth an heir of Winterfell. Those thick furs you wore obscured your belly quite well.

“I should be asking you how you fare, carrying our child,” Cregan insisted, gingerly caressing around your stomach with the pride of a doting husband. “Here you are, walking all this way to the Godswood, when it is I who should be by your side.” If there was one word to describe Cregan, it was overprotective.

Gods, he was attentive — if he did leave your side, he ensured that you were well looked-after, under the watchful protection of his guardsmen. You couldn’t fault your husband for his safeguarding nature, given that it was to be your firstborn.

Sometimes he forgot that you were a dragon-rider.

“Being beneath the open sky has done me a world of good, husband,” You mused, canting your head to one side. You were not completely round and waddling just yet — halfway through, as the Maester stated. “I cannot stand to look at that dreadful cobblestone for days on-end.”

Cregan did not protest, nor invalidate your claims. He was not the one carrying a child — he did not have a right to speak on behalf of you. A shiver rolled down your spine, due to the bitter chill of the wind, coupled with the encroaching snowfall.

Instead, he reached for your jaw, cupping your face within the roughened texture of his leather-clad palm, presenting you with a kiss. It was kept brief, yet the ardor lingered, as strong as a burning flame. “You are shivering, beloved. Let us return to the Keep.” He rumbled, shielding you beneath his cloak.

A respite from the cold would be welcome. Even if you possessed the blood of the Dragon, you did not fare well in such blisteringly glacial conditions. The thick cover of your husband’s cloak brought a sense of comfort, coupled with the natural heat that radiated from him.

Snow crunched beneath his heavy footfalls, your own masked by his boots. Cregan made sure to guide you every step of the way, hovering with his impressive shadow. “I have been contemplating a name for our child.” You spoke softly, a smile toying upon your lips.

“Have you?” Cregan appeared appeased, a stoic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t know if we are to have a son or a daughter.” He remarked, letting your hand wrap around the bulk of his forearm, guiding you through the Godswood.

“Perhaps not, but I wanted you to hear,” Such ideas had been stirring around within your mind for weeks, and with Cregan so preoccupied, you hadn’t broached the topic of conversation. “Gilliane, after your mother, should we have a daughter, and … Rickon.” You hesitated. “Should we have a son.”

Cregan’s steps began to slow, and he looked upon you with such love and devotion that it was nearly overwhelming. He couldn’t have loved you anymore if he tried — and he had tried. Towering over you, he pressed a kiss against the top of your head, one that blossomed with fondness.

You gave him the greatest honor of all — that of fatherhood, and now, you had bestowed upon him sentimental names, those of his family. Love flourished within his storm-colored hues, and he seemed to soften at your words. “You would honor me beyond words, wife. Do you not wish to pay tribute to your own family?”

Placing a hand over the growing swell of your stomach, you seemed somewhat indifferent to talk of your family. Helaena and Daeron were the exceptions in this, but it did not pain you any less. “I pay tribute by carrying our child,” You replied, your smile threadbare. “That is enough.”

Solemn, Cregan simply nodded, understanding your strained relationship with the family you had left behind in King’s Landing. From what you told him and from what he discerned, you seemed much happier here, liberated and free of such poisonous clutches. “Of course.” A soft rumble reverberated throughout his chest.

Winterfell’s snow-laden gates were now within reach, as guards in Stark tabards harkened the return of its Lord and Lady. He thoroughly enjoyed watching you interact with the denizens underneath his protection — you often greeted them with smiles and laughter.

He watched you grow into your station as Lady Stark, a growth that showed such promise. You had been shy around Northerners at first, but you now walked as if you had been in Winterfell your whole life. Cregan kept you close, his stance that of a protective husband, hovering above you with his hulking stature.

The Keep was close, and you could feel the crackling warmth of the hearth lick across your skin in the forefront of your mind. Cregan was characteristically stalwart, keeping you wedged against his side, swaddled in the thick furs of the direwolf.

Once inside, you welcomed the gust of warmer air. The Keep burned many fires and braziers when winter became sharp and bitter, your cheeks stinging from the cold. “Shall we retire this evening, or are you lacking in nourishment?” Cregan inquired, knowing that your penchant for foodstuffs had increased while pregnant.

“Could something be brought to our chambers? Perhaps a stew or a broth, that sounds rather warming.” As if on-queue, your stomach lurched with inklings of famish, as if your child also demanded something to eat.

“It will be done,” With his stoic assurance, your husband bent down to press a kiss against your temple, smoothing a palm across your back. “I will join you shortly, wife.” Cregan had a tendency to walk the Keep before retiring — spare a word to the guards, those in the kitchens, and anyone underneath his care.

“Do not keep me waiting for too long.” You mused, lips curving into a warm smile that could melt even the hardiest of ice — including that of your husband. The vulnerability that seemed to come to him in your presence was a comforting thing.

With a soft huff, Cregan cupped your chin, looking upon you with tempestuous hues, as gray as a winter’s storm. “I wouldn’t dare.” He assured, presenting you with a tender kiss. Gods, you had sorely missed his mouth in many ways, and you were swift to reciprocate.

After you had become with-child, fuller and round with the heir to Winterfell, you had not engaged Cregan as much in terms of intimacy. He wanted you to relax, to not have to lift a finger. You missed your husband in more ways than one, giving way to your own basic desires and carnal instincts.

The kiss possessed a charged edge, tension looming above, the fringes of it seeping into your lips. You held onto his forearm, an audible sigh slipping past your mouth when Cregan withdrew. He could detect your yearning — the sentiment was a mutual one, but he feared hurting you, as any man would.

With a gentle hum, you allowed your husband to leave you, watching as his impressive form encapsulated all space within the corridor he walked in. You let him tend to his duties, and you made for the spiraling stairwell, making your way to your chambers without a hitch.

Thick, wooden doors gave way to the sanctuary within, the hearth being stoked and tended-to by one of the servants. “I thought you might want it warm, m’lady.” She mused, having laid out a series of new wardrobes for you across the foot of your bed.

“Thank you, Tanea.” The new gowns and dresses seemed to be made with your new specifications in-mind, accommodating for your growing belly. Part of you felt self-conscious when it came to your pregnancy — you no longer seemed to fit into your own skin.

“You must be excited, with the babe on the way,” Tanea was easy to speak with, an exuberant young woman with cherubic features. “Your Lord-Husband certainly is.” She chimed, finishing with the hearth as she moved about.

“Is he?” Cregan was sometimes difficult to read, countenance permanently etched with that stoic Northern scowl of his, but you knew how happy he was. Knowing that your servants could see it filled you with delight. “I may need your assistance, Tanea.”

“Very much so, m’lady. He speaks as if he is a father already,” She fluttered to your side, assisting you in relinquishing the weight of your fur cloak and overcoat you wore. Tanea arranged the garments back into the large, wooden wardrobe. “Do you need anything else?”

“I do not,” You smiled, moving to sit atop the fur-laden footlocker at the end of your shared bed. “You have my gratitude, Tanea.” The girl curtsied, a proper gesture, before making her way from your chambers.

Intrigued, you happened to admire the new gowns strewn across your bed, many of them styled in the Northern way of dress, save for your evening shifts. One in particular caught your eye, made of sage-hued silk, translucent and frilly, the sleeves billowing.

Pinching the fabric between your fingers, you decided on wearing it to bed, pushing yourself up right as you organized the rest elsewhere, into the space of your wardrobe. Heavy footfalls resonated outside of your door, with it creaking open to give way to Cregan.

Your mountain of a husband carried two bowls of steaming stew, placing them down along the small, rounded table. The intricate carving of a wolf rested along the table’s edge, made of wood from the Wolfswood. “Are you tired?” He inquired, removing Ice from his shoulders, scabbard and all, placing it near his bedside.

After you had become with-child, he kept it close, in case of any unsightly, dire circumstances. He would not ever allow himself to be defenseless in your presence. You had thought it to be somewhat overly cautious, but you did not dissuade him otherwise.

“Not really,” You hummed, reaching for the many pins keeping your braids in-place. You removed them one by one, placing the ruby-studded needles upon your vanity. It felt better to let your hair down, pale tresses cascading across your shoulders in soft waves. “I am perfectly awake.”

Cregan’s visage was one of clear appreciation and adoration as he stepped closer, admiring the way you looked. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” He insisted, hands moving to assist you in unlacing your dress. This was a common practice with each passing night — you enjoyed it.

Warmth crept along your features as you stood still, allowing him to untie your bodice with his calloused fingers, until the garment loosened. “You are much too kind, husband.” Stepping from your gown, you were left in a white slip, one that had grown somewhat uncomfortable with its tightness.

“It is not a kindness, but the plain truth.” Cregan replied, pressing a kiss against the pale crown of your head, inhaling a gust of your saccharine scent. “You are my beautiful wife.” He affirmed with a grunt, and moved away to change into his own smallclothes. Abandoning his leather and armor always felt unusual for him.

There was no debating your husband, whose stubbornness was sometimes renowned. Instead, you smiled, abandoning the snug, ivory fabric for your field of sage, hastily pulling it on over the swell of your stomach.

It gave you ample time to observe Cregan, whose musculature ensnared you time and time again. He was impressively thick, broad-shouldered and built like the Wall itself. Seeing him standing there in just his trousers made something hot stir between your legs.

You crept forward, shamelessly wrapping your arms around him from behind, and you could feel a tremor throughout his body when he huffed. “I have a handsome husband, a perfect husband — and that is the plain truth.” You hummed, cold cheek burying itself against the warmth of his skin.

Wordlessly, you peppered soft kisses against his spine, and to any scars and bruises that you could see. You listened to the sharp exhale from your husband, who did not protest your actions. Your lips felt like the kiss of snow, still cold from the chilly outdoors.

Cregan let you stay that way, and in-truth, he enjoyed it thoroughly. Those large, calloused hands placed themselves atop yours, lifting both to his lips as he kissed your knuckles. He let them drop, and you caressed him wherever you could. The gesture was soft, but he couldn’t deny the growing sensuality present between you both.

“For the blood of the dragon, your hands run cold, wife.” Cregan rumbled, soothingly tracing his fingers across your wrist, feeling your physique against his back, including the swell of your belly. You pressed your palms against his abdomen, able to feel the taut, subtle muscle there.

“It is a good thing that I have you to warm them,” The silky, soft resonance of your voice brought him comfort. You sounded so relaxed and blissful, feeling him sluggishly turn around within your hold. Cregan cupped your cheek, rough pad of his thumb tracing across your lips. You kissed his thumb. “Kiss me.”

Cregan’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, and he instead gestured to the meal he’d brought with him. “Once you eat and have proper sustenance, I might indulge you then, beloved.” He mused, noticing the twinge of disappointment on your face.

“Might?” There was an upward inflection within your tone, as if the mere suggestion of might had offended you to some degree. Your burly husband then caged you within his embrace, palms soothingly caressing along your hips. “Must you insist on tormenting me?” You teased.

With a low grunt, Cregan reached for his tunic, eyes twinkling with mirth. “For now.” Tugging on the dark blue linen of his nightshirt, he gestured for you to eat, sitting beside you at the table. His own chair groaned in protest, and before he knew it, you were devouring your stew.

A mouthful of warm, seasoned broth filled your maw, accompanied with hearty chunks of venison and stewed vegetables. The cuisine in the North differed greatly from the South, not that you minded. You often felt more fulfilled after meals than you used to.

“Gods, that was wonderful,” You groaned, the stew satisfying your cravings. It warmed you to the bone, causing a shudder to roll down your spine as you finished, nudging the bowl aside. “I could eat several servings of that.” Your confession prompted Cregan to smirk.

“Famished, were you?” Cregan mused, watching as you moved out of your chair, cradling your stomach with one hand. He very nearly rushed to assist you, but he knew you would’ve swatted him aside.

“Quite, but I am eating for two. Your child needs it as much as I do,” You remarked, wandering toward the hearth as you extended one palm toward the fire. The comforting heat licked across your flesh, the orange light dancing over your features. “Much better.”

Cregan joined you not long after, guiding you to sit atop the large footlocker at the end of your marital bed, closest to the open flames. His rough fingertips glided over the plane of sage-hued silks, as he admired your womanly form through the fabric. “This suits you.” He rumbled, gently tugging on the silk to accentuate his point.

“Tanea had the seamstress craft me new clothing, given that I’ve grown quite a bit,” Admittedly, you felt some insecurity in your current state, afraid that your husband may not enjoy you as he once had. “I am glad that you like it, husband. I was worried that you wouldn’t.”

Perplexed, chestnut brows furrowed together, his countenance one of clear concern. Slipping an arm behind you, he calmly stroked your side, silently beseeching you to tell him of your worries. He knew what it pertained to, even if it was left unspoken. “Your worries are misplaced. I love you.” He assured.

“It isn’t just that, I — I suppose I feared that you wouldn’t still enjoy me this way. Most husbands in the capital seemed so disinterested when their wives began to show.” This wasn’t the South, and Cregan was as far from a disinterested husband as one could get. He kissed your jaw, letting you rest against him.

“You are carrying our child, the heir to Winterfell — I would continue to love you regardless of what your body might look like. Damn the Southerners,” Cregan murmured, planting a hand atop your belly. “I look at you and I see my wife — I see perfection. My heart calls your name.” For a man so rugged and rough, his words made your blood surge with exhilaration.

Joining his hand, you placed your palm atop his, the one firmly perched against your belly. If Cregan were being truthful with himself, he found you to be painfully beautiful like this, swollen with his child, knowing that he put a pup in you. Those lascivious fantasies had now become reality.

“Ñuha dōna zokla,” My sweet wolf — your High Valyrian often brought him to heel, bringing out the siren’s lull within your voice. Cregan had made a valiant effort to learn some of the language for you, but it never sounded as pleasant on his Northern tongue. “I am yours.” You beamed, lilac hues glistening with ardor.

Bringing a calloused palm to your face, he traced the fine plane of your cheekbone, reveling in the velveteen texture of your flesh. A wolf, brought to heel at his dragon’s side. Cregan studied your Valyrian features, basking in your beauty, coaxing you in for a kiss.

Your mouth was disarmingly soft, catching him off-guard, stealing away all of his coherency. He felt you turn inward, palm planting itself against the thick, corded muscle of his thigh, gripping him tightly as he deepened your kiss.

Something warm stirred within him, a longing to feel your body against his, able to detect the hitch within your breath as he drew you closer. Your wanton need radiated from you in thick, permeating waves, enough to bring him into the intricate web of your desire.

“Easy, wife.” Cregan rumbled, wanting to temper your carnality before it raged into that of a dragon’s flame. Your pleading gaze suggested otherwise, prompting him to caress along the length of your spine. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

A begrudging sigh escaped your lips as you incessantly tugged at his tunic, staring at your husband with furrowed brows. “You wouldn’t,” You uttered, tracing your fingers over his heart. “We do not have to commit the entire act. I simply want to enjoy you in other ways — I miss it.”

Subtlety wasn’t your strongest suit, and Cregan knew this. Arousal stirred within him, cock twitching at your lascivious insinuations. “Hm,” A soft growl left him, one that seemed to share your sentiments. “Is that what my lady commands of me?” He murmured, holding you close.

“She does,” You hummed, treating him to a playful smile as you reached for his chestnut tresses. One of your hands slithered beneath his tunic, feeling along the solid, thick muscle of his abdomen. He stroked at your belly, a stern hum reverberating within his throat. “Gods, I need you.” You exhaled.

With your need laid bare, Cregan heeded you with a fire swirling within his gut. His hand dipped down to the apex of your thighs, pushing beneath your silken shift until he found your cunt. Gods, you were wet already, a tantalizing thing, one that he found delight in.

“You are warm already, beloved.” Cregan’s thunderous timbre raked down your spine, effortlessly gaining your subservience with ease. You shivered, feeling his thick fingers deftly caress across your slit, teasing and toying with you, gathering your slick.

Feather-light touches would have to suffice as Cregan lazily pressed one digit against your clit. His mouth found the slender expanse of your neck, delivering hot, passionate kisses against your throat.

A simpering whine tore past your parted lips, one filled with such urgency as you shifted closer, writhing against the sensation of his hand. Any lick of friction would do, consuming your body with its amatory heat. He grunted into the hollow of your throat, kissing you wherever you could.

Your own mouth found the impressive bulk of his shoulder, seeking to bring your teeth into his flesh. A sonorous, rumbling grunt left your husband when you bit him, leaving behind the crescent marks of your teeth. If it weren’t for your pregnancy, he would’ve marked you in this way, too.

Seeking the softness of your mouth, Cregan’s mouth twitched into a threadbare smirk as he kissed you hard, letting it linger as his hand withdrew from your skirts. A groan of disappointment left you, but he intended on making up for it fully.

He moved off of the footlocker, planting a lasting kiss against your brow. Towering over you, Cregan’s shadow eclipsed most flickers of firelight, gray hues swirling with warmth as he bent the knee to you, his beloved. It was a mesmerizing sight, one that you reveled in.

His massive musculature bullied its way between your thighs, warm palms shifting to caress along your legs, from ankle to calf. He had never seen someone as resplendent as you, breathtakingly beautiful, the blood of the dragon, his wife.

Gathering your skirts within your hands, you fisted the silks, dragging them up until they pooled around your hips. Warm lips embraced the crook of your knee, peppering kisses across your leg, until he reached the velvet flesh of your inner thighs.

Your hips began to tilt forward, seeking the pleasant heat of his mouth, a heat that he gladly granted you time and time again. Cregan kissed his way to the slick warmth between your legs, a thunderous exhale escaping him, chest vibrating with a grunt.

Cregan gingerly adjusted your position, letting your legs rest against his broad shoulders, your back sloped against the furs and footboard of your bed. He pressed a kiss against your mound, nose buried near your pelvis before he made his descent.

A warm lap of his tongue dragged itself over your core, like hot embers raking across your cunt. You sighed, blissfully succumbing to wanton desire, reaching for his crown of chestnut tresses, gripping at the back of his skull. “Cregan.” You whined, head rolling forward just a bit.

Pale waves framed your face, countenance contorted into an expression of sheer and utter bliss, brows furrowing together. Your husband happily found his solace between your legs, mouth pressing hot kisses across your cunt. His hand gripped at your haunch, the other trailing against your leg.

It was ambrosial, your taste; a finest stout, sweetest of nectars that stained his lips with your perfection. Cregan lapped at your cunt, dutiful and attentive, ensuring to find every spot that made you gasp for air.

Nimble digits fisted into the furs at your side, mouth agape as a myriad of throaty moans escaped you. Your hand roamed through his tresses, tugging and pulling whenever his tongue graced the pearl of your cunt.

Splitting past your folds, Cregan tasted every inch of you, tongue seeking your cunt with a fervor. He was vigorous in his ministrations, not shying away from consuming every drop of your arousal. His nose brushed against your mound, hands kneading into your thighs to reassure you, let you know that he had you.

Any inkling of roughness had dissipated from him in the wake of your pregnancy, replaced with a passionate devotion, a rapture reserved only for you. His strong hands held you close, caressing you wherever he could.

You tasted sweet upon his tongue, honey-thick and a feast to sate his appetite. If he would choose his fate, it would be in between your legs, listening to the myriad of moans and throaty whimpers leave you. It was satisfying to know how much you enjoyed this; derived pleasure from it.

A tremor gripped your legs, little spasms of delight making their way throughout your body. Cregan’s mouth forged a blazing path from the hood of your cunt to your entrance, tongue greedy and hot, before he went back up again, seeking your sensitive pearl.

“Cregan!” Gods, he brought you such pleasure, a pleasure that seemed to seep into your very bones, sate your endless yearning, for now. Your legs curled inward, tight atop his shoulders as you rocked yourself into his mouth, doing little to suppress the volume of your moans.

He pressed closer with a wolf’s appetite, throat burning with carnal hunger as he continued to lap at your slick cunt. Your arousal felt honey-thick upon his tongue, something reserved only for him, chin glistening with your nectar. Your legs squeezed at his head, and he knew that he pleasured you well.

Molten heat churned within the pit of your stomach, a sensation that you had been longing to feel again. Cregan did not relent, yet he happened to slow just enough to savor you, dragging his tongue toward that clutch of nerves at the hood of your cunt.

As soon as he pursed his lips around your clit, you nearly forgot your own name, thoughts completely derailed, scattered into a blissful abyss. Your body reacted with shivers and tremors, hand gripping at the nape of his neck with a reckless abandon.

Your back arched slightly, collarbone glittering with perspiration through the thick, warm haze of your chambers. The hearth had brought about a feverish heat, coupled with the throes of your intimate entanglement. Cregan derived satisfaction from your pleasure, delighted to please his wife.

Pliant flesh filled his palm as he cupped your derrière, bringing you closer, letting you grind yourself against his mouth, use him and take whatever you needed. A grunt stirred within his chest, reverberating within his throat as he went about seeking your clit, suckling on the pearl of your cunt.

“Oh Gods,” You moaned, nearly clasping a hand over your mouth to hide the salaciousness of your voice. Surely, the servants had heard you by now — you would be fortunate if all of Winterfell didn’t hear you. “I — I’m close!” Rocking forward again, you let out a whimper.

With a strangled whine, you desperately chased after your release, one that you had sorely needed. Cregan’s cock twitched at the sound of your delicious moans, a shudder rolling down his spine whenever you whimpered his name. “That’s it,” He rumbled, hot breath fanning over your core. “Go on.” His encouragement was softly spoken through his Northern timbre.

He wanted to stay there, rooted between your legs, mouth consuming your cunt as if it were his last meal; a man wrought with starvation.

Cregan favored it, thoroughly reveling in the way your body reacted to him, visceral and ecstatic. He gingerly suckled on your clit, feeling your fingers tighten within his chestnut locks, gripping him tight. He wanted you to have your release, built upon this pent-up feeling.

He could feel your encroaching release, feel the tension in your grasp, the way you let your hips continue to lurch forward. Without relenting, Cregan continued to suck at your clit, letting it intermingle with hot laps of his tongue, dutiful and fervent between your legs.

A comfortable silence filled the gap between you, intermingled with the sounds of your pleasured cries and Cregan’s sonorous grunts. That heated coil within your stomach began to unfurl, bringing an onslaught of arousal with it as you bucked into his mouth.

At last, your peak consumed you in a white-hot oblivion, and you very nearly saw the stars themselves. With a strangled gasp, your legs tightened on either side of his head, followed by a blissful rush of liquid heat. Your grip began to slack upon his tresses, chest heaving from exertion.

Cregan lingered there for a few moments more, tongue caressing your cunt, cleaning up any last drop of your nectar. His mouth glistened with it when he did inevitably withdraw, lashing across his lips before he kissed your thighs, showering you in affection.

“Do you feel better?” He mused, kissing the crook of your knee before standing to his feet. You were positively hot, feeling a feverish warmth crawl across your skin, thighs shaking in the aftermath. You hastily adjusted your slip, regarding him with a gracious expression.

“Very much,” Your confession made him smirk as he helped you into bed, abandoning his tunic at the iron-wrought foot. As he settled down, you joined him, curled within the space at his side. “Would you like me to return the favor?”

Cregan never expected you to do anything that you didn’t want to — never feel obligated, either. He would survive without a night of release. “Tomorrow, perhaps.” He murmured, moving to rest a hand against the swell of your stomach, caressing your growing bump.

“Thank you, husband — for everything.” A gentle hum left you as you placed your hand over his, allowing him to protectively cradle your stomach. You let your head rest against his shoulder, his arm holding you at his side.

A bemused huff escaped him as he peered at you with mirthful hues, gray eyes that resembled a thunderstorm. “You needn’t thank me,” He assured, briefly pressing a kiss to your temple. “You needn’t ask for it, either.” Cregan enjoyed the taste of your cunt more than anything else.

You couldn’t help but smile, sheepishly moving to press a kiss against his jaw. “I love you,” You sighed, letting your ardor for him be known as you felt your eyes grow heavy. “Tomorrow, I would like for us to see Silverwing. She grows lonely in my absence.”

Cregan knew how much the creature meant to you. He had met Silverwing before, but he dared not climb upon her back — you’d asked it of him several times before. “Of course, beloved.” He murmured, basking in the heat of the firelight.

A sharp, fluttering sensation blossomed throughout your abdomen, prompting you to gasp. It was sudden and unexpected, but not painful. It was foreign, and had been happening on rare occasions.

“What is it?” Cregan questioned, visibly concerned before you dismissed it with a bright, delighted smile. You gently guided his hand elsewhere atop your stomach, pale brows furrowing together as you searched for the source.

“There,” You mused, joyous laughter escaping you as another kick fluttered against your joined hands. “Do you feel it?” It was heartwarming to watch the happiness glisten within his eyes, the way in which he adjusted his position to truly feel. Cregan’s true smiles were a rarity, and you saw it now.

The blood of the wolf and the dragon stirred within, prompting you to smile appreciatively at your husband. This was something the both of you had made with your love, the heir to Winterfell. “They seem strong,” Cregan remarked, leaning over to plant a kiss against your brow. “Perfect, just like their mother.”

His hand never left your belly, even as he maneuvered the furs over the both of you, letting you move to lay against the warm expanse of his chest. Cregan exhaled, staring into the dying embers of the heart, tracing his digits along the swell of your stomach.

“Strong, just like their father.” You whispered, pressing a kiss against his jaw before you settled down for slumber, shielded by the protective grasp of your Lord-husband.

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Weird Brain Hacks That Help Me Write

I'm a consistently inconsistent writer/aspiring novelist, member of the burnt-out-gifted-kid-to-adult-ADHD-diagnosis-pipeline, recently unemployed overachiever, and person who's sick of hearing the conventional neurotypical advice to dealing with writer's block (i.e. "write every single day," or "there's no such thing as writer's block- if you're struggling to write, just write" Like F*CK THAT. Thank you, Brenda, why don't you go and tell someone with diabetes to just start producing more insulin?)

I've yet to get to a point in my life where I'm able to consistently write at the pace I want to, but I've come a long way from where I was a few years ago. In the past five years I've written two drafts of a 130,000 word fantasy novel (currently working on the third) and I'm about 50,000 words in on the sequel. I've hit a bit of a snag recently, but now that I've suddenly got a lot of time on my hands, I'm hoping to revamp things and return to the basics that have gotten me to this point and I thought I might share.

1) My first draft stays between me and God

I find that I and a lot of other writers unfortunately have gotten it into our heads that first drafts are supposed to resemble the finished product and that revisions are only for fixing minor mistakes. Therefore, if our first draft sucks that must mean we suck as writers and having to rewrite things from scratch means that means our first draft is a failure.

I'm here to say that is one of the most detrimental mentalities you can have as a writer.

Ever try drawing a circle? You know how when you try to free-hand draw a perfect circle in one go, it never turns out right? Whereas if you scribble, say, ten circles on top of one another really quickly and then erase the messy lines until it looks like you drew a circle with a singular line, it ends up looking pretty decent?

Yeah. That's what the drafting process is.

Your first draft is supposed to suck. I don't care who you are, but you're never going to write a perfect first draft, especially if you're inexperienced. The purpose of the first draft is to lay down a semi-workable foundation. A really loose, messy sketch if you will. Get it all down on paper, even if it turns out to be the most cliche, cringe-inducing writing you've ever done. You can work out those kinks in the later drafts. The hardest part of the first draft is the most crucial part: getting started. Don't stress yourself out and make it even harder than it already is.

If that means making a promise to yourself that no one other than you will ever read your first draft unless it's over your cold, dead body, so be it.

2) Tell perfectionism to screw off by writing with a pen

I used to exclusively write with pencil until I realized I was spending more time erasing instead of writing.

Writing with a pen keeps me from editing while I right. Like, sometimes I'll have to cross something out or make notes in the margins, but unlike erasing and rewriting, this leaves the page looking like a disaster zone and that's a good thing.

If my writing looks like a complete mess on paper, that helps me move past the perfectionist paralysis and just focus on getting words down on the page. Somehow seeing a page full of chicken scratch makes me less worried about making my writing all perfect and pretty- and that helps me get on with my main goal of fleshing out ideas and getting words on a page.

3) It's okay to leave things blank when you can't think of the right word

My writing, especially my first draft, is often filled with ___ and .... and (insert name here) and red text that reads like stage directions because I can't think of what is supposed to go there or the correct way to write it.

I found it helps to treat my writing like I do multiple choice tests. Can't think of the right answer? Just skip it. Circle it, come back to it later, but don't let one tricky question stall you to the point where you run out of brain power or run out of time to answer the other questions.

If I'm on a role, I'm not gonna waste it by trying to remember that exact word that I need or figure out the right transition into the next scene or paragraph. I'm just going to leave it blank, mark to myself that I'll need to fix the problem later, and move on.

Trust me. This helps me sooooo much with staying on a roll.

4) Write Out of Order

This may not be for everyone, but it works wonders for me.

Sure, the story your writing may need to progress chronologically, but does that mean you need to write it chronologically? No. It just needs to be written.

I generally don't do this as much for editing, but for writing, so long as you're making progress, it doesn't matter if it's in the right order. Can't think of how to structure Chapter 2, but you have a pretty good idea of how your story's going to end? Write the ending then. You'll have to go back and write Chapter 2 eventually, but if you're feeling more motivated to write a completely different part of the book, who's to say you can't do that?

When I'm working on a project, I start off with a single document that I title "Scrap for (Project Title)" and then just write whatever comes to mind, in whatever order. Once I've gotten enough to work with, then I start outlining my plot and predicting how many chapters I'm going to need. Then, I create separate google docs for each individual chapter and work on them in whatever order I feel like, often leaving several partially complete as I jump from one to the other. Then, as each one gets finished, I copy and paste the chapter into the full manuscript document. This means that the official "draft" could have Chapters 1 and 9, but completely be missing Chapters 2-8, and that's fine. It's not like anyone will ever know once I finish it.

Sorry for the absurdly long post. Hopes this helps someone. Maybe I'll share more tricks in the future.

[alastor-simp]

“I Won’t Ever Be Scared Of You” - Alastor x Female Reader

❥Summary: Alastor transforms into his demon form to defend the hotel. He promised himself he would never reveal that side of himself to you, but what happens when you do see it?

❥Tags: Sequel, Alastor x Fem Reader, Unafraid Reader, Alastor Demon Form, Hazbin Hotel Episode 5, Dad Beat Dad Episode, Mimzy, Lucifer Morningstar, Confessions, Friends to Lovers.

❥Notes: This is the sequel to a previous story I had written "I See No Fear In Your Eyes." I really wanted to do a bit of a continuation on how the story ended, so I conjured this up. This also takes placed during episode 5 (Dad Beat Dad) of Hazbin Hotel. Hope you all like it. Enjoy:)

Sequel to this fanfic I wrote - Link

"LETS GO EVERYONE!!! WE GOTTA MAKE THIS PLACE PERFECT FOR WHEN MY DAD GETS HERE!!" Charlies voice rang out in the lobby, as everyone scattered about, preparing for when the king of hell arrived. Husk and Niffty started to sweep up while Sir Pentious helped to bake cookies for everyone and Lucifer. You decided to help string up some welcoming decorations around the higher part of the wall, as well as place a "Welcome" sign for the king to see when he arrived. You had never met Charlies dad before, sparking your curiosity on what he was like.

Your thoughts were cut off by loud static surrounding you, making you turn to see Alastor next to you, eyes monitoring the door with a strong hatred, demonic symbols floating above him. What's up with him? Finishing what you were doing, you walked closer to Al and gave him a bit of a poke on his side. His eyes quickly flashed towards you in anger, until he realized it was only you, which calmed him down. Ever since the confession you had at his radio tower about why you didn't fear him, your relationship with him had grown. His mannerisms were still the same, but he had adopted a softer, sweeter demeanor when he was around you, even allowing you to touch him on certain accusations. You still hadn't figured what to call this relationship you now had with Al. Affectionate friends or very close partners? It wasn't romantic per say, but it still left you a bit confused. "Oh, Hello my dear! Something troubling you?" Alastor tilted his head at you, eyes growing soft at the sight of you. "I should be asking you that. Whats with the sudden power surge? Are you angry about something?" Alastor froze for a moment, hands grasping at his microphone a bit tightly before turning to gaze back at the door. "No." Alastor said it quickly, but you can tell he wasn't being truthful. "Do you dislike Lucifer?" You asked him with a tilt of your head, copying him. Alastor remained silent before he gave a loud sigh. "I'm not very fond of him, my dear. He is the ruler of hell, with tremendous power, and yet he hides himself away and refuses to accept his responsibilities."

His eyes had turned into radio dials, for a split second before calming down, yet his smile was widen enough to reveal his black gums. Giving a sigh, you motioned to grab one of Alastor's hands that was still holding his microphone tightly, giving it a soft squeeze, causing Al to look at you with confusion. "Look, this is important to Charlie, and she needs to ask her dad for help with heaven. I'm not telling you to all of a sudden change your view on him, but please try to behave a bit. Just for today, please?" Alastor's eyes continued to stare at you, before he closed them and opened them again with softness. He could never refuse those kind eyes of yours. "Alright, my dear. Its a deal!" He said, jokingly, making you laugh. "Thanks Al." You gave his hand, another squeeze before letting it go, going back to setting up.

Fast forwarding to now, you watched as both Alastor and Lucifer were having a "I'm the better dad" song battle for Charlie. Welp, you tried. You knew Al had tried his best, but after a couple insults between the two, the deal you had with him completely broke, honestly it was shocking to hear Alastor say "F✪✪k you" since he has almost never swore ever, since he arrived at the hotel. The song fight continued on, until it was interrupted by a short chubby demon, who came badgering inside the hotel. She quickly introduced herself as Mimzy, one of Alastor close friends, and also being a singer at a club she ran. She started chatting with everyone at the hotel, indulging herself in the liquor that was at the bar, it was surprising how much she could drink. You noticed that some of the liquor supply was getting low, so you thought it would be best to get some more, since everything had calmed down a bit. You had pulled Charlie to the side, letting her know that you were going out for a bit to get some more alcohol for the bar, which she nodded at, giving you a thumbs up before she run back over to chat with her dad. Grabbing your wallet, you ventured out the hotel, looking back to see the others listening to Mimzy chatting about before you went outside and shut the door.

*Few Hours Later*

"MIMZY!! WE KNOW YOUR IN THERE, YOU LOUSY BIT✪✪!". A voice rang out as a loud bang was heard from the other side of the hotel doors, causing the hotel to shake. A group of loan sharks had arrived at the hotel, heavily armed with weapons and attempting to break down the hotel doors with a battering ram. The residents of the hotel began to panic as large fireballs were crashing through the windows, nearly hitting them and causing large shards of glass to scatter everywhere. Vaggie had quickly grabbed her spear, ready to fight the loan sharks, until a hand was place on her weapon, causing her to lower it. "No, my dear, leave it to me. It's time I remind everyone why I am h̨̭̹̠̍̚e̷͑ͥr͉͢͝ȩ̬̤̺̇ͮ̕."

The air inside the hotel began to change, as the static started to get louder. Alastors eyes had turned demonic and a green aura began to cover the whole hotel. Dark tendrils had materialized from Alastors back, allowing him to levitate into the air. "A reminder to all, ŇØŦ ŦØ Μ€ŞŞ ŴƗŦĦ ��Ħ€ ŘΔĐƗØ Đ€ΜØŇ!" Belting out an evil cackle, the tendrils had bursted out of the hotel, destroying the catapult, and crushing the loan sharks into bloody puddles. Growing into a monstrous height, Alastor emerged out of the hotel doors, horns growing in size as well as his eyes turning into radio dials and multiple tentacles protruding from his back; "Ɨ ŴƗŁŁ Đ€VØỮŘ €ΔĆĦ ΔŇĐ €V€Ř¥ ØŇ€ Ø₣ ¥ØỮ!

*Alastor POV*

"Oh how much I have missed this!" Alastor thought to himself, as he massacred the loan sharks that were scattered outside the hotel, running for their lives to escape his deadly clutches. It was futile, as no one comes into the radio demons territory and gets away with it. Scanning his eyes for more prey, he held one of the poor souls in his hand before dropping him in his jaws. "Hmm not quite as tasty as venison, but who could resist fresh sushi!" Alastor thought, as he cackled away, his tentacles continued to tear apart the loan sharks to pieces, organs and blood scattering the ground. The screams soon stopped and the only sound that could be heard was overwhelming static and monstrous growls, as glowing bright eyes scanned all over, making sure all of the annoying pests were disposed of. "Al?" a soft voice had come from below him, making him freeze in shock. Turning around in his gigantic form, his eyes casted down, spotting you, gazing up at him with wide eyes, mouth opened into a perfect O shape.

"Oh no! Oh no no no no no! She wasn't meant to see this! She wasn't meant to see this grotesque part of me!" His thoughts were scattering, feeling fear for the first time. Alastor remembered when he promised himself that he would never have you see his true demonic form, fearing that once you saw how he looked, the eyes that you gave him that held no fear, would be no more. A sinner as sweet as you, who confessed to him about everything that you admired about him to his face, shouldn't have to see this. Alastor didn't know what to do and quickly turned away from you, ashamed at himself, until he heard a "Wow!" from behind him

*Your POV*

"WOAHHH HE'S SO TALL!" Your mind was racing with many thoughts, as you walked closer to Al, putting the bag of alcohol bottles down on the ground. "Holy crap, you got very big. Can you hear me from up there Al?" You raised your voice up a bit louder, figuring Al couldn't hear you since he was almost the size of the hotel now. Alastor slowly turned back around, with his radio dial eyes still present, but they looked at you with slight concern. Alastor had bent down a bit, trying to get closer to you, but keeping a good distance as he worried it would startle you. "Đ؀ޅ.ĐØ€Ş ŦĦƗŞ ŞƗĐ€ Ø₣ Μ€ ŇØŦ ₣ŘƗǤĦŦҀР¥ØỮ, Μ¥ Đ€ΔŘ? His voice was booming, possible due to being in his demonic form, but it was softer then when he was munching on the loan sharks. Gazing up at Al with confusion, you asked him why would you be frightened. Alastor had closed his eyes, turning his head to face away from you; "Ɨ ΜΔĐ€ Δ ƤŘØΜƗŞ€ ŦØ Μ¥Ş€Ł₣ ŦĦΔŦ ¥ØỮ Ŵ€Ř€ ŦØ Ň€V€Ř Ş€€ ŦĦƗŞ ŞƗĐ€ Ø₣ Μ€"

Narrowing your eyes at him , you let out a huff, before walking closer to him. "Pick me up." Alastor turned back around in shock, not expecting you to say that. After some hesitation, Alastor placed one of his large hands down in front of you, allowing you to step on to it. Holding on to one of his large fingers, you allowed him to hoist you up, becoming eye level now. Once you were eye to eye with him, you crooked your finger at him, telling him to move closer. Alastor hesitated again before moving his head closer towards you, his forehead and eyes being extremely close to you. Reaching one of your hands up, you placed it on his forehead, before moving closer and pressing a soft kiss on it. Alastor eyes had widen at your actions, but he didn't move from his position, as you continued to pepper kisses on his forehead. Removing your lips, you nuzzled your forehead against his, "Alastor, I told you before that I would never grow to fear you. Whatever form you take, I will never be afraid of you." Stepping back, you gazed into his bright eyes, lips drew into a soft smile.

Crimson dial eyes remained locked on you, as they slowly closed. A chuckle was heard from Al, as he shook his head from side to side, before moving closer to you, placing his forehead back against yours softly. "Darling, what a wonder you are." His voice had returned to normal, no ounce of static etched in it. The two of you remained in that position, before Alastor had pulled away, bright eyes peering at you with admiration. "As much as I love this form of yours, it would be better if you shrunk back down, especially since you won't be able to fit through the doors." You said with a laugh, earning you a loud booming laugh from Alastor, as his whole being shook, having to hold on to his fingers to steady yourself. "I suppose your right." Alastor said, as he slowly brought his hand back to the ground, allowing you to jump off his hand.

Your eyes continued to gaze at him, as his body slowly began to shrink, eyes returning back to normal slits, and large tentacles disappearing from his back. He was soon back to his old self, rubbing parts of his suit to be rid of any dirt or grime. His joker-like smile was still trained on you, but it was full of tenderness, as he look down at you. "There he is, the handsome devilish radio demon is back!" Smiling brightly at him, you placed your hand against his cheek, giving it a soft rub. Alastor gave you a genuine smile, grabbing your hand from his cheek and placing a soft kiss on to it. Releasing your hand, his arms had wrapped around your back, pulling you into a soft hug, his head moving closer to your neck, giving it a nuzzle, making you giggle at the ticklish sensation. The sweet moment was interrupted by the sound of clapping behind the both of you. Looking ahead, you saw Mimzy approaching, a bit of a smirk on her face. "Oh Alastor! What a fantastic show! Bravo! As always. Thanks for helpin' lil' old me out of a tough spot, you're always such a pal!" Her dialogue got cut off, as some debris from the hotel fell next to her, making her jump a bit in shock. Appearing unapologetic, she looked back at the two of you, "Oops. Heheheh… sorry about the mess, but I'm sure the lil' bug can take care of it for ya."

Alastor had loosened the hug, turning all the way around, but not before hooking his arm with yours, keeping you close to him. His smile was still stretched out as always, but his eyes held irritation. "I think you should go, Mimzy. Now." He said towards Mimzy, stunning her for a bit. "Oh pff, Alastor, you're such a kidder, you! Haha, you are so funny!" She flicked her hand at him, not taking him seriously, but you knew that expression he wore, he was not in a joking mood, his eyes lacking mischief. "I mean it. You deliberately brought danger to this place just to have me clean up your mess. I can't have that here." He had pulled you a bit closer, as he continued to talk with Mimzy, clearly telling her to f✪✪k off. She apparently did not take the hint, as she continue to ramble on, "But you love takin' care a' me! What? You don't actually give a shit about this tacky place, do ya? Come on. I know you. you heartless son of a bi✪✪h~" Her finger continued to poke at his chest, causing him to let out a small growl.

Grabbing her finger from his chest, you pushed it off him, glaring down at her. "I believe he told you to leave." Mimzy did not appreciate you touching her and scoffed at you. "And who the hell are you dollface?" Wow, she even forgot who you were, and she literally just met you a few hours ago, when she barged in. "I'm the one who knows and sees the real Alastor, and doesn't try to exploit him to get out of sticky situations." Alastor eyes had widen at your words, a bit shocked at this fiery side of yours. Mimzy had backed up a bit, not expecting that: "Well I-" "Did I stutter? Leave!" Your words had cut her off, as you continued to glare down at her. Huffing while stomping her feet, she walked past the both of you: "Well fine! Who needs ya!" She continued to stomp away, not before flipping the both of you off.

You continued to glare at her when she walked away, before you got distracted by the sound of static-filled laugther next to you. "My my~ Who knew you were such a firecracker, my dear." Al had unhooked his arm from yours, but he wrapped it around your back pulling you closer. You gazed up at Al, who was smirking down at you, making you flush a bit. "You weren't meant to see that, I'm sorry." Your head dropped down in shame, until a hand had hooked your chin, motioning your head to look back up at him. "I quite like it, ma chérie. Just as you love the many sides of me, I very much enjoy this feisty side of you." His finger had traced your bottom lip, his crimson eyes filled with a strong desire as well as adoration. Inching closer, his lips had placed itself against your redden cheek, causing your heart to skip a beat. Pulling back, his smile was gentle, before he stood back to his regular height, his hand moving from your back to one of your open palms, interlocking your fingers. "Come along, my dear. We better head back inside!" He pulled you along, having you walk next to him, as you made your way back towards the hotel. He had snapped his fingers, using his powers to have the bag of liquor levitate behind the both of you. His hand was so warm. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, which he reciprocated back as you both went back inside to join the others.

-END-

Sinners:

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

@cookiekyo , @demoarah , @danveration , @beebsbea ,

@veethewriter , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @luujjvi ,

@unholycheesesnack , @saturnhas82moons , @jyoongim ,

@aceofcards0-0 , @ghostdoodlen , @yourdoorisunlocked ,

@starshipcookie , @ainsliemac , @aria-tempest , @nobuharashinyao

, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,

@yakultt-art , @mooniee123 , @nightmarenaya , @darischerry ,

@sadnessiscoldtea , @alastorssimp , @imacollasaltitan ,

@dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @batmanmonstarr , @felice-jaganshi ,

@justchillaine , @crazed-flower , @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog ,

@akiooshizuka , @lokis-imaginary-friend ,

@themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @futureittomainn ,

@christinaatyourservice92 , , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it ,

@angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 ,

@mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow ,

@madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel ,

@artemisandhunters , @thereeallink , @ask-theradio-demon ,

@lousypotatoes @l4zyb0n35 , @midorichoco

@lillyisfreakyy , @alastorthirsty , @yukiinee ,

@daydream-the-demon , @cosmiccoralz @aconstructofamind

@pumppkinlynn @erikaafernns , @silverpaw2 ,

@cosmiccandydreamer , @killer-nightmare0 , @visara-valentina

@thereallsaturnstar , @coffee-or-hot-cocoa ,

@fckedupandbeautiful ,

[harmonysanreads]

Hello !!! I hope you’re doing fine and enjoyed last patch quest! I really really love your writing, and especially like the way you write Ratio,,,,, that yandere Drabble you posted a while ago with Ratio and Aventurine sharing reader has been haunting me in the best ways <33

Since your request are open, could I ask for a one-shot of yandere Ratio and Aventurine? If it’s fine I’ll ask for reader to be shy/introverted but otherwise I’ll leave it up to your inspiration! Maybe about life at home, or visit in Penacony? Maybe they’re tormenting Reader through strip-poker? Maybe Ratio was inspired by the shrinking device and now they’re having fun with their pocket-sized darling? Anything you fancy I’m not difficult, I only ask you have fun!! <3

(I assumed your no-sequel rule only applied to one-shot, I deeply apologise if I was wrong fjekjdksjd)

Inure

yandere!aventurine x reader x yandere!dr ratio

cw(s) : yandere, forced proximity, slight dehumanization (but everything is sauteed in humor so bon appetit ✨)

wc : 1k

hi nonnie!! thank you so much for your sweet words<3 tbh every idea you presented was very enticing and i'll definitely keep them in consideration for later. for now though, i really wanted to write something soft for these two, i hope you don't mind :>

Inconveniences come in many forms.

Some more candid than most, while others lurk in the shadows of carelessness like hyenas ; ready to pounce on the unsuspecting prey at the opportune time. Trouble and tribulation eclipse the course of human life, masquerading as two sides of the same coin. What they are, in truth, a pair of mischievous twins who are always watching, evaluating and trapping their victims in elation-filled jumpscares. It is also true that woes differ based on the individual, some even see fit to opine that the source of misery is the individual themselves.

Your vexations however, are dictated by two idiosyncratic persons with interests as farther apart as two solar systems. Which isn't a lot if one considers the magnificence of the universe, but distanced enough to be the tillable land of your miseries. Said inconveniences usually arrive dressed as revoked privileges, confiscation of entertainment items and... movie nights.

A night where you're supposed to be enjoying a film as a group shouldn't have been such an adversity if the aforementioned individuals respected the bare minimum of being normal. On usual occasions, who you end up accompanying is maintained through a strict schedule as opposed to the much friskier notion of rolling-dices that was favored by a certain blonde (in which he always emerged victorious and was thus declared irrationally imbalanced by Veritas) — but, an unforseen lapse of management and chaos was bred.

In matters that concern you, it seemed as though even the most seamless co-operations failed to reach a simple consensus. So when the erudite Dr Ratio expressed eagerness to spend a ‘relaxing afternoon’ with your person, it clashed quite clamorously with Aventurine's desire to have you participate in one of his many adrenaline-high games. And because of the decrease in release of dopamine that came from being a frequent observer of their arguments, you ended up suggesting this dreadful activity ; Ratio's silent perusal by your left and Aventurine's equally quiet phone browsing by your right are all that remains of the earlier fiasco.

You consider it a shame, because unbeknownst to them, you actually were plotting ways to watch this particular film. But, when at approximately fifteen minutes into the story you realized you were the only one among you three that was paying it any attention at all — you felt, quite blatantly, deflated. Surprisingly though, that was not the main source of your current misery at all, no, no ; what was causing you distress was the deplorable portion of space that they alloted to you from the couch.

At least Ratio has the habit of crossing his legs subconsciously, making your life just a miniscule easier. Unlike Aventurine whose default setting is to be attached to any patch of your skin anytime you're within his radius and when he brings that to the cauldron of being compressed between him and Ratio — it perfectly justifies why you're dancing between the provocative lines of mild annoyance and a meltdown. You'd believe they forgot about your existence altogether if not for Ratio's definitely-not-intentional shifting and the without context headpats from Aventurine.

Their treatment, although (probably) not deliberate, suggest you to be the equivalent of the pampered housecat and if one was to generously point out the expression on your face at present, that allegation would be right.

You stifle a sigh that transitions into a yawn with your only friend in this dreadful world, your plush pillow. The dialogues exchanged by the actors in the movie gradually become unintelligible as your vision morphs into a kaleidoscope of black dots and patterns. You draw your knees closer until they become parallel to your chin, musing a scenario where you lean so into the couch that it swallows your form and hurls you into a wonderland free of covetous hands or hearts. Where you could roam without eyes attached to every move you make and most importantly, where the notion of inconveniences would cease to exist.

You've seen it happen in shows a younger you indulged in and a passing thought makes you smile sardonically ; the world is so bizarre that you've effortlessly found yourself in a situation as complex as your current one but, not bizarre enough to make fantasies such as these a reality. The noises from the screen, Ratio's nonchalant page turning and the fragrance of Aventurine's cologne make your lucidity sway, until darkness cradles you close.

That night, you found yourself having a rather tender dream. In your dream, the blonde promptly busied himself in positioning you more comfortably on his lap upon feeling your slumbering head hit his shoulder. You felt succinctly amused upon the ‘place the pillow under their head, moron!’ that left a certain virtuoso's lips. Said virtuoso, shifted the rest of your body to be rested on his lap with a gentleness that baffled even Aventurine. Some say that dreams are manifestations of the desires that stay stagnant within the crevices of our minds. If that theory holds even a fraction of credence, then the percipience of what your subconscious desires, leaves you feeling as solemn as sated.

By the hour you gain awareness of the waking world again, there is but silence surrounding the living room. Your first blink is followed by a series of more and your sense of feeling works faster before your sense of sight, it sticks quite insistently just above your knees and atop your head. You roll a bit and realize they are in fact the hands of Ratio and Aventurine respectively, holding you away from kissing the floor and cracking your nose. As your vision gains more clarity, you notice the purple-head, supported by the palm of his left hand and the arm of the couch. You rise up and notice Aventurine mirroring Ratio's position, you conclude them both to be asleep judging by their collective inertia despite your movements.

Your eyes shift downwards towards the pillow on which you rested moments before and seeing it positioned exactly atop Aventurine's lap, confirm your suspicions that the scene you witnessed in your sleep had, in fact, happened in reality. Perhaps the universe heard your hopeless plea and bargained it with this speck of generosity.

They really didn't move an inch — but the bubbling warmth was soon pushed down by — as if I was a cat they didn't want to disturb!

being treated like a cat by two of the most cat-like characters in hsr lol

[aegonstradwife]

closer pt. 2 | aegon targaryen x reader

summary: anonymous requested; a sequel to closer, where aegon is further healed and reader rides him.

warnings: mention of various injuries / scars, established relationship, smut. (riding.)

a. note: link to the original request.

In the span of only 2 months, your husband's extensive injuries have healed to be quite less so; the burns along the left half of his body have left behind rough, blotchy scars that he is still self-conscious of. But you're just glad that he's alive.

His knee is still something of an issue, causing him immense pain whenever he tries to move it. But at least he can flex his toes now without screaming in agony, and the lower half of his leg can also be manipulated with little to no torture to him.

And that's why you feel so comfortable planning what you've planned; something wicked that is going to satisfy desires - both yours and the king's - that have gone neglected for months while Aegon has been bedridden.

At this stage, Aegon always, always, makes sure to instruct the maesters to keep the door unlocked, leaving you free to slip inside whenever you desire.

When you do so this morning, Aegon is of course still abed, covered only in a thin sheet, sun laying itself across his chest, setting his fine hair alight. He looks celestial, something too holy to be touched.

But that's exactly what you've come to do.

Your husband lights up upon spying that familiar head of hair poking through the doorway. He sits up with what is apparently minimal pain, though he's gotten very good at hiding it when he wants to.

"Finally come to liberate me from this forsaken chamber, my love?" Comes his sleep-thick voice - you hope you haven't woken him prematurely. He does still need all the rest he can get.

"Not quite yet," you mutter apologetically, closing the door softly behind you. Even though you're quite sure your coming here is no longer a secret, you'll gladly keep up the charade in order to keep a sense of normalcy during this time.

Aegon may still be mostly incapacitated, but his burns have healed nicely and he has much better range of movement now, at least with his upper half.

His poor knee, however, is still shattered. The maesters have done their best to splint it, but he is still well on his way to healing fully, and will probably walk with a limp even after.

You settle lightly on the bed beside him, running a hand down his scarred arm. "I have come to do something else, though. Can you guess what?"

Aegon licks his lips, which are dry and chapped from sleep. There are empty goblets on the bedside table that you could easily take and refill for him, but he's grabbing suddenly for your hand, keeping you beside him. "Care to give me a hint?"

You gladly twine your fingers with his, thumb roving over the mottled skin of his hand. Finally, you can touch him without him screaming in pain. "You've healed perfectly, my love. I think it's time, to do what we've wanted for so long.... What do you think?"

Your love's face goes blank as he realizes what you mean. After so long, you'll be able to have each other the way you deserve. Those chapped lips part, and Aegon releases a short, forceful sigh that you've come to know as his wife to mean that he's thinking very dirty thoughts.

It's a wonder he's not already trying to rip your clothes off.

He swallows hard against a lump in his throat and breathes, "I think you're finally going to let me have you the way I've been dreaming of having you."

"Mm," you agree with a hum. Aegon saying it aloud lights a spark between your thighs.... "I just want to touch you everywhere, Aegon. Now that I can."

Turning more to face him, you traipse your fingers lightly up over his burnt elbow, scar tissue bumping beneath your hands. "Does it feel different?" You whisper reverently, that same hand skimming up over his bicep and curling around his shoulder. The other is moving its way up his stomach, half over his healed burns and half on the smooth, unburnt skin beside it.

His breathing is already picking up as you touch him, and when your palm meets his sternum, a sharp, unexpected tremor rolls through him. His violet eyes roll back, and for a moment you're afraid you've hurt him.

"It does feel different." Aegon's voice is a grizzled moan, one hand clenching itself hard in the bedsheets, the other palming over your thigh just beside him. "It feels.... more sensitive than before. I d-don't know why."

You don't need to know why to know that this revelation makes you want to touch him even more, to make him feel so good, to take away all the remaining hurts from his battle.

"That's good." You're trying to keep your voice even, but the feeling of all of Aegon's gorgeous skin underneath your hands is making you shake with desire for him.

Your hands meet at the scarred skin of his left collarbone before both start a slow track over his chest. The scarring here is the worst, his armor having melted to the skin, peeling away as the maesters removed it.

But Aegon merely shudders in pleasure, reaching out desperately for you. He cries your name. "Please.... Please, I need you, my love. It's been too long."

All you can do is watch as your hands continue to palm over Aegon's torso. Your husband is shivering, making the most delectable sounds, and you can see his cock starting to tent the sheets below. You're sure he would be writhing under you if it wouldn't hurt his leg too much to do so.

All of a sudden, however, Aegon yelps in pain, head tossed back against the pillows. He has, in fact, tried to arch a little too hard into your touch.

"Aegon," you scold him, pinning him by the hips. "You can't, my love. Don't move so much, your leg...."

You know it must be throbbing, and you do your best to soothe your hand over his calf, just below the break.

He curses through clenched teeth. "I can't help it.... I want to touch you, and I need you to touch me, but. It hurts, and I can't believe how much it still hurts."

The grunting pain in his voice sends a wave of sympathy washing over you.

You purse your lips.

"I can believe it," you sigh, still caressing his lower leg, down to his ankle now. "You really did a number on yourself. It's honestly a miracle you've healed this much this quickly, you know."

With a groan and a huff of frustration, Aegon throws an arm over his face. "I know, the maesters are all impressed with how quickly I'm healing, but they don't understand just how badly I want you, and just how badly this damned leg is getting in our way."

Now, you think. He can't see you, with his arm flung dramatically over his eyes - you'll surprise him.

Quickly, but careful of his leg, you sweep a leg over him and settle yourself just over his hips. You picked out a thin night shift to wear just for this....

Not quite putting your full weight on him, you run your fingers back up his torso, fingers flirting with this collarbones again. "I, for one, owe my sanity to the maesters, Aegon. Can you imagine if you had died? I can't.... It doesn't bear thinking about."

Aegon jerks against the bed, arm coming down so he can grab for your leg as he looks up at you, surprised. The first thing he must see are your bare thighs, spread around him. Gods, he's missed this view.

The second thing he notices is the look on your face - the utter devotion, the love, the lust. "Darling...."

His hands, insistent against your thighs, push their way up under the loose material of your nightgown, coming to rest on your hips, thumbs pressing into your soft, supple flesh.

You moan, loudly, at the feeling. One of his hands is smooth, just as before, the other rough with burn scars. And you love them both.

"Gods, I missed that, Aegon. Your hands on me.... Touch more, my love. Touch whatever you want. I'm yours."

Those hands tighten their grip, and Aegon's purple eyes flash tiredly up at you. "As you wish, my queen."

His hands start a slow motion back and forth, up and down your thighs, over your hips and waist. His fingers trail over the warm, yielding flesh of your sides and stomach, before pushing higher, palming over the curves of your breasts.

Still just hovering over him, not daring to sit all the way down, you revel in his touch. Nothing in this world compares to your love's hands running over you, worshipping your skin, your hips, your breasts!

That wrenches a particularly deafening groan from your lips, as you arch your chest into his palms. "More.... Please, Aegon. I missed this so much."

He continues to grab and pull greedily at your flesh, wanting to worship you - to worship every single inch of you.

"Gods, I've missed this too, darling. So much. I've been dreaming of getting my hands on you, of feeling these gorgeous curves. I won't ever let you go again, that's a promise."

To take some of the pressure off your legs, you list forward, bracing yourself with your hands on either side of Aegon's head. "More," you demand, pressing your lips to the corner of Aegon's mouth. "Touch me everywhere."

Aegon should know what you mean by that.

Your demanding tone makes Aegon smirk; he did always like when you took control.

"Yes, your majesty," he purrs, hands slipping back to tug the hem of your shift out of the way so he can palm over your ass, then pull hard at the gauzy material. "Let's get this out of the way, shall we?"

Wasting no time, you reach down, ripping the flimsy cotton off over your head. "How's that?"

Grabbing for Aegon's hands, you place them again on your breasts, squeezing. At the same time, you dare to sink an inch or so lower, and the sticky head of Aegon's hard cock brushes against the inside of your thigh. "You're still such a beautiful boy, you know that?"

The sound that falls next from his pretty lips is a strangled whimper. "Don't call me that," he sighs, and you can barely hear him. "You know what it does to me."

As if in corroboration, his cock twitches stiffly against your inner thigh.

"Oh, but that's what I want," you hiss, still braced over him, mouth hot and wet now on the burns at his hairline. "Do you even know how long it's been since you've been inside me? Of course you do - I'm sure you've thought about it just as much as I have. Maybe even more, confined to this damnable bed as you've been."

"You don't even know," he replies quietly, voice soft and small. His head is tilted back, baring his throat. "I've thought about it every single day. I've thought about it every night. Every time I've closed my eyes, it's driven me nearly mad."

There are tears at the corners of his reddened eyes, and you kiss them delicately away. There's not much to say, other than that you're sorry you're in this situation.

With his neck bared to you like that, you take the opportunity to attack the scarred skin at the base of his throat, loving how sensitive it makes him, how his body responds to you now. "Is this okay?" You ask, nosing at his jaw. "Not too sensitive?"

"Perfect," comes Aegon's reply, still barely more than a whisper, thumbs circling over your hips.

When he tries to grind up against you, you still him with a hand hard on his hip. "Aegon. I'm going to ride you. And if you need me to go faster or slower, raise higher or sink down more, just tell me. No trying to take control yourself, alright? I don't need your recovery set back any further."

He whines in despair, and his fingers claw miserably at your back. "I understand," he says obediently. "I'll be still, I promise. And I'll tell you. Just.... please, darling. I need you so badly I can taste it."

Gentle fingers cradling his jaw, you force him to look at you. He truly is beautiful, though he might not feel so with the scars scorching down his face. But to you, he is immaculate.

"You're going to be so good for me, aren't you, my little prince?" You lower yourself further, reaching down to position his thick head at your wet entrance.

The raw desire radiating off of him as he gazes adoringly up at you sends a lick of heat down the base of your spine. Your cunt is throbbing, aching to take him in, and his cock is twitching in your palm, equally as keen to be inside.

"Yes, my lady," is Aegon's eventual reply, and you're pleasantly surprised at how good he's being. His hands are petting themselves soothingly down your back, but his hips are completely still aside from the occasional tiny pump as he aches to be inside of you.

"Good boy." Unwilling to wait any longer, you tilt your hips back and bear down, opening up for him, sinking down onto his hardness after so many months being unable to do so.

It is a stretch after so long with only your fingers to do the job, but any discomfort is mitigated by the intense, overbearing love you have for your husband and the way his cock twitches inside of you. "A-Aegon...."

His name is a sob, you can't help it.

Aegon's hands are at your face, cupping, thumbs fluttering over your cheekbones. "My love.... I said I'd tell you what I needed. And.... I need you to move. Please. For me."

You nod, taking a long, rattling breath as you lean up and then slide back down, Aegon's cock dragging at your tight walls, the head nudging all the way back on every thrust down.

As you start to build at least some sort of rhythm, Aegon gasps and groans, body starting to squirm beneath you.

You still, fixing him with a critical look.

"I know," he gasps. "I know, I'm sorry.... You don't understand how hard it is, not to move. Not to show you how badly I want you, when you're sitting on me looking like that...."

"Looking like what?" You dare to ask, hips hitching back and forth over him.

"Like the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he laments, hands coming around to cup and knead at your breasts again. He tweaks one hard nipple and you cry out, feeling your cunt starting to cream on him.

This used to happen all the time - Aegon would get you so worked up that when you both looked down to where his cock was opening you up, there'd be a thick, frothy cream making itself known along his shaft. And he'd be quick to fuck it back up into you, both of you messy and sweaty and absolutely blind to anything else in the world but each other.

"That's it," Aegon grunts, nails scraping lightly over your nipples. The sun is shining just right for Aegon to be able to look between the two of you and see your cream coating his cock. "That's.... oh, gods. I might - I'm close -"

His breath is choppy, the smooth skin of his unburnt cheek gone very pink. Physically unable to stop himself, his hips are working gently to drive himself up to you.

"Aegon...." You place a hand on his chest again, just over his pounding heart. Both of you still, and you assure him, "I'm going to bounce on you. Hard. Until we both cum. If you're in any sort of pain -"

But he cuts you off with a hard nod and a whine. "Yes, yes, I'll tell you. I promise."

Making sure you're leaning forward, as far away from his leg as you can while still keeping him inside, you start with a couple hard pushes down, the sound of skin slapping starting to fill the room.

Aegon's eyes close in pleasure, and there's no hint of pain anywhere on his face, so you tuck your legs under, now balanced on your toes as you start to fuck him in earnest.

You're fucking bouncing on him, as hard as you dare with a hand on his shoulder to keep you from listing backward.

Almost as though he can't decide which part of you to touch, his hands keep flitting from your breasts to your stomach to your thighs and back. There's absolutely no need for him to move at all right now - you're taking care of any need or want he could possibly have.

"Oh -" Aegon's eyes fly open, staring down between you, listening to the sweet wet sounds your cunt is making as you use him, watching the reddened, swollen length of his cock disappearing in and out of you. "I'm almost -"

You nod, wanting him to, needing him to. It's been so long since you've felt his cum flood your womb, since you whispered in his ear for your king to get you pregnant. "You can, Aegon. Whenever you're ready. You deserve to, after so long...."

His entire body goes taut, a long line against the sheets as he tries his damnedest not to move his broken leg. The other, however, has dug its heel into the bed and is doing its best to keep his back arched as he sprays inside of you.

Almost as an afterthought, long after his cock has stopped spurting, he gasps, grabbing for you, holding you close, petting your hair. "Was I - was I good?"

"Perfect," is your whispered reply as you shudder through your own orgasm above him, Aegon's hands on your hips helping you along.

Once you're both spent, you move to lay beside him, but Aegon is quick to grab you and pull you down on him instead, resting your head on his chest.

You can hear his heart still beating hard, his fingers comforting and gentle on your back and shoulders.

"I love you." He presses a kiss to your forehead. "I love you so much. Thank you.... for still wanting me."

Slowly looking up at him, Aegon tosses you a cheeky smirk. "Even though as your king, I could have you commanded to be mine for all eternity anyway."

"Oh, shut up," you sigh, teeth digging playfully into his chest. "I love you too, you absolute imbecile."

[pathologicalreid]

Hiii I was wondering if you could write a part 2 or a sequel to the fic your wrote a little ago called next of kin. I loved it so much 😊😊😊 thank u!!! <333

stepping up | S.R.

after taking custody of your younger sister, spencer steps up in his role as caretaker

part one

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst content warnings: previous murder of parents, emphasis on not having a dad, maya is bffs with jack hotchner, spencer is an empath, not proofread word count: 1.58k a/n: for a while i wasn't giving my requests summary's but now im getting back into that because i realize I Got Too Silly. thank you for requesting! i love you!

You jumped as your younger sister slammed the door to the garage shut behind you. Keeping her purple backpack slung over her shoulders, she trudged up the stairs and retreated into her bedroom. The six-year-old was either unaware or uncaring of the way you immediately followed her path to the stairs.

In your periphery, you saw Spencer peek his head over the back of the couch, making quick note of your troubled expression before he snapped his book shut and joined you. Hesitating, you looked up the stairs at the landing, the dim light of her lamp left a pinkish glow at the bottom of her door, but there was no noise coming from Maya’s bedroom.

“She didn’t say anything the whole way home,” you murmured thoughtfully, placing a hand on your chin. You’d thought she’d be happy when you picked her up as a surprise – you and Spencer had just gotten back from a case a few hours ago. Your cousin – who usually took care of Maya when you were away – had offered to pick her up from school, but you hadn’t seen her in three days and needed to see her.

Gently, Spencer placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you up the stairs with him trailing close behind. With the two of you standing outside the door, you placed your hand on the brass doorknob and let your hand sit there, listening closely as you registered the small whimpers emanating from inside your sister’s room.

Unable to tolerate it, you wiggled at the door just to find that she had locked it from the inside, “Maya,” you said, consciously keeping your voice soft. “I know that you probably want to be left alone right now, but we need to know that you’re alright,” holding your breath, you waited, hoping that she’d open the door on her own and you wouldn’t have to go hunting for the key.

You were afraid that she was being bullied, she transferred to a new school in the middle of the year and was frequently absent in the beginning, but they didn’t make a guidebook on how to ease a child into a new school following the death of both of her parents. Luckily, Maya was placed in the same classroom as Jack Hotchner, so you knew she’d always have at least one friend around.

Just as Spencer was asking you if you wanted him to go get the room key, the lock clicked and the door slowly opened, revealing your younger sister. Her backpack had been discarded on the floor and her face was bright red, she had been crying.

Shooting yourself in the foot, you hesitated. You just stared down at your sister while she lowered her eyes, watching the floor. Despite the fact that you and Spencer had more than willingly taken her in, Maya was still an orphan. She was a six-year-old whose most prized possession was a stuffed bunny named Thumper, but she was an orphan, nonetheless.

Next to you, Spencer knelt down to the floor, meeting Maya at her height. Tentatively, he reached up and took one of her hands in his much bigger one, “What’s wrong, Bambi?”

Your chest ached at the nickname he had bestowed upon her, keeping your eyes focused on the both of them as Maya retreated back into her room, yanking her hand out of Spencer’s and tossing herself onto her canopy-covered bed. Sharing a concerned look, both you and Spencer made your way into the room.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you sat at the desk across from her bed, and Spencer sat on the flower rug that she kept in front of her dresser. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you got the chance, Maya blurted, “I don’t have a dad!”

Eyes widening, you seemingly choked on air as your eyes darted from where your sister was now sitting up on the bed to where Spencer stayed still, looking equally as startled as you. Jumping up from the bed, she dramatically dropped to her knees in front of her backpack, unzipping the largest pocket before producing a green folder and thrusting a paper in Spencer’s direction.

Smoothly, Spencer accepted the paper from your sister, turning it right side up in his hands before skimming the print. You wheeled the desk chair over in his direction, eyes flickering over the flyer as you realized what it was for. The school held an annual daddy-daughter dance for Valentine’s Day, and your sister had been handed a flyer.

Once you had gotten through the holiday season, you convinced yourself that you could get yourself and Maya through anything – evidently enough, that had been a mistake. This, this made you angry. The administration knew exactly what your sister had been through, and the fact that they still chose to hold this event.

Her biggest worry should be what theme she wanted her seventh birthday party to be, not being left out of a school event because she didn’t have a parent to go with. You checked the time on her Hello Kitty alarm clock, knowing that the school administration would still be around until the end of the workday, you made a mental note to call them and file a complaint.

Concerned with your next steps, you hadn’t even noticed that Spencer had shuffled across the floor, using his fingertips to wipe tears from her face as she looked up at him with big eyes – Bambi. “I could go with you,” Spencer offered, cupping her small cheeks in his hands as he knelt in front of her.

Frowning, Maya shook her head rapidly, “You are not my dad,” she insisted, stepping back and away from Spencer, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, closing herself off.

Your boyfriend nodded in acknowledgment, this had led to a lot of confusion, as Spencer didn’t want to take over the role of father in Spencer’s life, so Maya frequently introduced him to people as her brother. There were a lot of lengthy explanations as to who he actually was. “No,” he responded simply, “I’m not, and I don’t have any intention of trying to be your dad. You already have a dad, right?”

Stepping back toward Spencer, Maya nodded, “Yes, but he’s gone.” Her arms dropped back to her sides, and your chest ached at the euphemism.

“Did you know that I didn’t have my dad around when I was growing up either?” Spencer asked, speaking tenderly to your sister as he tried to navigate this situation. You stayed completely still, trying not to move lest you interrupt the negotiation process.

Maya’s eyes widened in surprise, “Really?” Her small voice came out in a whisper like the information that she and Spencer were sharing was a secret, Maya called whispering adult talk, because that was how you and Spencer always spoke about work.

Reaching up and gingerly tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, Spencer nodded almost indeterminately, “Mhm, not the same way that your dad’s gone, but I know what it’s like to not be able do all of the fun dad things. If you’re alright with it, we can go together to the dance.”

“You don’t have to,” Maya whispered timidly, the standoffishness she had displayed earlier completely replaced with nerves.

Your boyfriend nodded, “I know, but I would be honored if you would let me,” he said, taking both of her hands in his. “We don’t have to go at all, but I want to make sure you know that you never have to be nervous about asking me for things.”

She pondered this for a moment before giving a sly smile, “Can I wear a pretty dress?”

“We’ll get you a new one,” Spencer assured her, looking over at you as you sighed, holding a hand over your chest while tears pricked at your eyes. “Does that mean you’ll let me take you to the Valentine’s Day dance?”

Jumping up and down excitedly, Maya beamed and threw her arms around Spencer who, in kind, hugged her tightly, rubbing a hand up and down her back, “I get to go to the dance, and I have no homework! This is the best day ever!”

Laughing lightly behind your hand, you grinned at your sister who was, after all, only six years old. “Your sister and I don’t have to work until tomorrow, do you want to do something?” Spencer offered, reaching out his hand and pulling you over to the two of them, allowing Maya to tackle you to the ground in a bear hug.

“Can we go to the park?” She asked, looking up at you with wide, curious eyes.

You nodded, “Absolutely we can, and we could go out for dinner after too if you want,” you offered, looking over at Spencer as he grabbed the dance flyer and pinned it to a corkboard in your sister’s room.

She gasped in surprise, even though the two of you rarely told her no – one of the dangers of raising an orphan. “Can Jack come?”

Laughing lightly, you quickly realized that your trip to the park was going to become a BAU family affair while you rose to your feet, wiping your clammy hands on your jeans, “If his dad says yes, then we can take Jack with us.”  

[kaciebello]

Dangerous mail

Masterlist Badger express ★ Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!reader (fem) Summary: Mattheo needs to use the Badger post to send threats. There is only one person who can help him.  Warnings: no use of y/n Authors note: Haiya! This is a sequel series to the whole delivery one. This one is gonna focus on the boys separately! hope you enjoy it! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) word count: 1.2k Song: Babydoll - Dominic Fike

 Mattheo vowed to himself never to use the delivery service. That's why his steps were fast and his looks were sharp. When the vow is only in his mind, it is as easy to break as a twig. Trying to find the Hufflepuff Girl turns out to be a rather difficult task. The note was bent, almost burning a hole in his back pocket.

He has already scared a bunch of first-years trying to find the girl, he has searched from the dungeons to the towers and she was nowhere to be found. If he was to guess, the girl was just a few steps faster than him. So when he arrived at the greenhouse where herbology classes are held, he swore angles were upon him when a beam of light shined at the girl.

She was, for some reason, sitting on the top of the highest cabinet. The one where you need to climb to get on top. Now, Matteo has learned not to question the Hufflepuff way of sitting in the most uncomfortable places in the most uncomfortable positions. He once saw her hang upside down from the broom, intentionally. 

He made his way to her, the girl seemed to be dozed and sunbathing in the beam. Her hair was let down but he could still make out the yellow bow in it. He knocked on the cabinets to get the girl's attention. She looked down at him with no other reaction.

“Oi,” He said looking up. She didn't answer him, just waved at him as she swayed her legs back and forth. Mattheo had to step aside otherwise he would have been kicked straight in the face.

“Can you come down?” He asks grabbing her leg, effectively stopping it from swinging. She tried to move it, but his grip was strong.

“And why would I do that?” She argued back, looking down at him she made sure to shield her eyes from the sun.

“Because I wanna talk to you.” He hissed back in truth slytherin fashion. She just looked at him and signaled for him to talk. He just sighed and accepted his fate and the fact that she was not gonna come down from her throne. He assumed that the minute she would have got down, another wild Hufflepuff would have taken her place in seconds.

“I need to use the Badger post.”He says avoiding her eyes. Looking around, making sure nobody hears them.  She raised her eyebrows at him. Not once has one of the boys asked to use her services. Yes, they have received notes and love letters, but not once have they sent something back. Truly playing to the heartbreaker personas. She had a shocked expression on her face for a second before it turned into a wild smile.

“Oh? And who owns the honors to receive a love note from you?”

“It's a treat.”

“Oh,” she pauses. “That makes sense.” She extended her arms to him. For a moment he thought she was asking him to help her down, but he quickly realized that she wanted the note. He reached into his back pocket, pulled it out, and handed it to the girl. She took it from him and immediately opened it.

“Hey!” He yelped and tried to take it away from her, however, she moved it out of his reach.  He murmured something about privacy, she just waved at him again.

“Please, that applies to love notes, not this. I wanna know who you want to kill. Again.” She said and finished reading. Impressed she gave Mattheo a thumbs up. He rolled his eyes at her.

“Well. will you deliver it?” He asks her with urgency. Some people walking by give him weird glances, so he gives them the death glare. She just lifted the note against the sun.

“Ya know I was talking to my friend the other day.” She says now looking at him. He gave her a weird look, not understanding where she was going with this.

“And one of them said my dad is hot. Is your dad hot Mattheo?”

“He's the dark lord.”

“Ahh, is that a no then?”He just shook his head, choosing not to answer the girl. For both of their sakes. 

“Will you please deliver it?” He asks her again. She extended her hand to him and made a motion that could only mean one thing. Mattheo reaches again into his back pocket. Pulling out 5 galleons and dropping them in her palm. The girl thum glazes over them and then places them in her skirt pocket. The note soon followed.

“Please doing business with you.” She says pulling her legs up and starting to sunbathe again. Mattheo huffed in disbelief. 

“I kinda need you to do it now.” He says, nervously stepping from side to side. She signed and looked at him again. She let her feet down and scooched to the edge of the cabinet. Mattheo was watching her. It took him a few seconds to understand she was training to get down.  Looking around trying to calculate how and where to jump. Her eyes landed on him.

“Catch me.” She says. He just signed and extended his hands to catch her. He placed his hands around her waist before she jumped. He helped her down slowly, setting her gently on the floor. She was a little bit too close. He could feel her breath on his face. He was so close he could count the eyelashes on her eyes. Her eyes were sparkling in a way he had never seen before. His eyes shift to her lips for a second before going back to her eyes. One of his arms left her waist, moving to her face and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. He leaned in a bit.

“It's extra.” He stopped in his tracks. Pulling away to look at her straight in the face.

“What?”

“Express delivery, it's 2 galleons extra.” She says looking at him with a very serious face. He chuckles and takes a few stapes away from her. Nodding his head he, he reaches for his back poked and pulls out the 2 galleons.  Placing them in her hand. She doesn't move a muscle, looking at him wide-eyed. 

“You are impossible, you know that sunshine?” He asked her. Her nose scrunched before she shrugged her shoulders at him.

“I will get this delivered by tonight.” She says, now back to her happy persona. She waved at him and left. He watched her as she skipped down the hall. Her robe followed her every movement. He was so close and yet so far. Maybe next time she won't slip away from him. And maybe he won't be so against using the delivery service.

Tag list: @daisiesformylove , @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @anyam444 , @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet , @iwishigotswallowed , @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @schaebickel , @bunnyhopsstuff

[anachronismstellar]

Just in case no one asked yet: You could feed us, the like 3 WarPlane fans in a trenchcoat?

Mayyybe even some LQG POV? A little bit of "Why I want to fight him so bad?" with a pinch of misundertandings? 🥺

Oh. I just realized that all of the SQH gotta get them all asks I wrote in the Peak Lord POVs fjsbskdnsm

Anyway, WarPlane with a side of fighting and misunderstanding, right away! :D

Also a little bit kinda of a sequel to this post

Omg sorry it took so long but this one is a big boy fksnskdns I hope you like it <3

------

Shang Qinghua didn't show up next morning.

Or the other one.

Or the other.

Then he had to go on a mission, followed by another one, and when he blinked it had been weeks since that day in Shang Qinghua’s office.

So Liu Qingge decided to take matters to his own hands.

Because Liu Qingge wasn't stupid as Shen Qingqiu was so fond of calling him. He knew that he had a strong presence, and at any given opportunity, Shang Qinghua would run away from him as if Liu Qingge were a Demon.

Except.

Except when he had caught the other by surprise.

The scene kept coming back to his mind during training and during... Some odd moments.

During training it made sense. He kept chasing the rush of being thrown on the ground, excitement running through his bones at the possibility of finding a new sparring partner, making his heart race. It also opened his eyes for his weakness in hand to hand combat, a skill he had to confess he had been neglecting. Part because his sword training took so much of his time already, part because people hardly dared to walk towards him in an empty corridor, to dare punch him in a spar match would be unthinkable, apparently.

The other times that were a bit confusing. In the past days, he would be writing a report and the smell of ink would make him pause and think of strong arms pressing his hands against the floor. Or during their peak lord meetings, he would stare at Shang Qinghua, thinking how to drag him to training but instead of imagining an exercise routine his brain would get stuck on the memory of thighs embracing his waist.

He drew the line when the scene came up to him during his bath, making him hot all over even though he was using snow water.

BANG!

He barged into the room with sword in hand, ready to drag the other to the training grounds if needed to, being greeted by the rarest sigh of all times.

Shang Qinghua's office with no Shang Qinghua on sight.

"I-I tried to tell you, Liu-shishu, shizun is not here today," a girl wearing the white robes of the head disciples stopped by his side, panting, as if she had ran after him all the way from the rainbow bridge. "He's with the little ones, so please, if you want I can schedule-"

"Nonsense, I'm going to see him now," he turned to look at the kid, a bit impressed she didn't crumbled in fear by his glare. Although she seemed to be as tired as her Shizun, she had a lot of more spine by the way she put her hands on her hips now that she had recovered her breath, ready to scold him.

"Liu-shishu might be able to push his way through in other peaks, but here we do things by the book. You can either schedule an appointment or leave."

This is why he had wanted to see Shang Qinghua directly, he didn't have the patience to go through all the bureaucracy An Ding was so fond of.

So he took a deep breath, biting the inside of his cheek to not tap his foot at the kid just doing her job.

"Very well, when can I see him?"

She made a point of flipping her sleeves while passing by him to get to Shang Qinghua's desk, opening a small but thick booklet, flipping all the way to the end while humming. Then, with a smile that was eerily similar to Shang Qinghua's when he was about to scream at them about damage reparations, she said:

"He's free next month, on the third week, would that work for you?"

Liu Qingge squinted his eyes at her as he licked this teeth, making a tsk sound.

It felt as if she was lying. And at the back of his head he could hear Shen Qingqi dry chuckle.

"Nevermind," he turned around to leave the building, not bothering to wait for her reply. She wanted to play games and help Shang Qinghua hide from him? Fine. If words didn't work, he would use the good old intimidation.

"You!" He shouted at the first yellowed robe person he saw, pointing at them with his sword. "Where's Shang Qinghua?"

"Liu-shishu-" the boy tried to bow without stumbling on his feet while two disciples ran past them, pulling each other by their robes while whispering: "Liu-shishu? Really?!" and "Fuck yes I'm gonna get so much money-".

Honestly, cursing in front of your elders? The kids had no respect nowadays.

But he had no time to educate the youth.

"Where. Is. Shang Qinghua?"

The boy- because he couldn't be older than sixteen, stuttered while pointing at the west side of the mountain, slowly but surely trying to back away from Liu Qingge.

Not on his watch.

"Show me," he said as he put his sword away. It took him some minutes and a glare but he got the boy to start walking, guiding him all the way to a smaller house where he could hear children laughing, some of them running around a garden.

And in the middle of a huge group was Shang Qinghua, a low table set in front of him, surrounded by smaller ones as a group of kids seemed to be having a class.

Shit.

Before he could stop it, the An Ding disciple hurried to Shang Qinghua, whispering and then pointing his head at Liu Qingge's direction. And like candles being blown by wind, one by one, the kids started to quiet down, their huge eyes turning to look at Liu Qingge.

Was... Was he that scary?

"Okay, everyone, off you go. Class dismissed. And remember to finish your numbers today, I will check them!" Shang Qinghua said with a clap of hands, breaking the heavy mood with a bright smile. He helped some of the children clean up until an older disciple arrived, taking over the group.

Liu Qingge could feel he had ruined a precious moment. Realms, it might have been the first time he had seen Shang-Shixiong smiling, relaxed. And he actually felt bad when his theory was proved right by the way Shang Qinghua calmly walked towards Liu Qingge, his smile dropping as he tilted his head down, a deep sigh moving his broad shoulders.

"Liu-shidi," and right when he got closer enough, his usual too polite smile back on being plastered on his face.

"Shang-Shixiong."

"What can this one do for his shidi today?"

Liu Qingge felt his heart skip a beat before picking up speed. He shouldn't make him so tense, it was Shang Qinghua for Heavens sake!

Besides, he had thought about this for weeks. He had rehearsed lines and proposals, and he would never admit, but he even asked Mu Qingfang how to talk to Shang-Shixiong, he was ready, he-

"Fight me."

Maybe Shen Qingqiu had a point.

"I'm sorry?" Shang Qinghua blinked a couple of times before putting his hands up, waving them in front of him as he took a step back. "I'm sorry! Is this about the day in the office?! I'm so sorry shidi, I swear I am! Please don't-"

"I mean in a spar," he managed to spit it out, crossing and then uncrossing his arms, forcing his hands to stay down and relaxed. "This one is requesting his Shixiong to help him train in hand to hand combat."

Then he bowed, frowning at Shang Qinghua's surprised gasp. What was this with everyone thinking he was a brute?! He had manners! Has everyone forgotten he was from a noble family?!!

"Liu-shidi honors this one with such request, but I'm not good, really! It was uhh luck! I could never teach Liu-shidi in the matters of fighting-"

"Why not? Shang-Shixiong clearly has the knowledge, and I have just seen that he is a good teacher. Why you can't teach me your techniques?"

Shang Qinghua grumbled something he couldn't understand about changing points and skills, pressing his finger and thumb against the bridge of his nose as the other hand waved something to his side.

"Fine, Liu-shidi. You do have a point. But we are not going to go to do it at Bai Zhan Peak. I don't want this to be a big thing."

"Very well. Where should we meet then?"

"Tomorrow, their teacher will be back from their mission," he explained with a tilt of his head towards the house. "I'll have the morning free. We can meet at my house and use my garden, no one will disturb us there."

"I'll look forward to Shixiong's lessons."

They said their goodbyes, off to their duties. Liu Qingge again went back to staring at walls, tapping his fingers over his crossed arms, unable to focus on his disciples drills, deciding to go hunting to see if he could shake off his nervous energy to no avail. At night, he kept tossing and turning, and no meditation technique or set of exercises helped him to rest.

The next morning he felt as if he were a ball of condensed energy, ready to bounce and run towards An Ding Peak.

"Shizun? Are you okay?" his head disciple asked at some point during breakfast, a healthy distance away from him.

He finished his meal in less than three bites, leaving the table with just a "I'm going to An Ding Peak" as explanation, ignoring his Head Disciple calling for him.

And what if he flew instead of walking? He had an appointment with his fellow peak lord, no one would dare to comment on his eagerness.

"Liu-shidi, come in," Shang Qinghua greated him as soon as he set foot on the ground, waiting for Liu Qingge by the door.

The usual yellow robes were nowhere to be seen, swapped by a practical dark gray uniform, tighter to not get in the way of their fighting. And without the additional loose layers, it was impossible for Shang Qinghua to hide his broad chest and tonned thighs, strong enough to carry boxes and boxes of documents and parcels.

Strong enough to trap Liu Qingge and sque-

"I've set aside some clothing for you, so you don't dirty yours while we train," Shang Qinghua interrupted Liu Qingge unexpected thought, but still, the rest of the sentence echoed in his head. What was that?!, he through as Shang Qinghua walked them through the house until they reached an internal garden, lush grass covering the entire floor but for one patch of dirty right in the middle.

"Thank you," he took the clothing from Shang Qinghua's hands, looking around, doing his best to not stare at the other. "Where can I change?"

"There's a room right there, you can call me if you need any help."

Right.

No time to nonsense, he was waiting for this for a while now, he would learn as much as he could.

The offer for help wasn't necessary, the uniform was pretty straightforward to put on, nothing like Peak Lord clothing. He ignored the tingling down his spine when the picture of Shang Qinghua helping him undress came to his mind, leaving the room to face his opponent for the morning.

Shang Qinghua, with his legs in a split, stretching.

He felt his face warm up.

"Okay, shidi!" Shang Qinghua got up in a small jump, rotating his shoulders with a satisfying cracking sound. "Better start easy, I know you can handle, but hand to hand is a bit different than sword fighting. Now, stand up like this, good! Spread your legs a bit more- perfect."

They haven't started yet, and he was already sweating.

The first long minutes was just like any other martial class, Shang Qinghua helped him with posture, correcting his pose here and there. It was an odd sensation to have his usually skittish Shixiong touching him so freely, moving his body around without caring about Liu Qingge grunts or scared of Liu Qingge pushing back.

"Okay, this is for the basics. Do you remember the leg movement?"

Liu Qingge nodded as he pushed his hair out of the way, the strands sticking to his neck, itching his skin. Maybe that's why Shang Qinghua kept his hair up, because it had barely been an hour, and it felt as if he had been training for days.

They got into position again, Shang Qinghua letting him start the fight and run towards him to get tackled so Qingge could practice what he had learned. And, he understood where Shang-shishu was coming from by holding himself back.

But at the same time he was frustrated. He could feel under Shang Qinghua's skin a strength he had never felt from the other peak lord, an agility that took Liu Qingge breath away, and an intelligence to use Liu Qingge's own body and weight against him that he wished his disciples could see.

If anyone had told him that, of all the twelve peak lord's, Shang Qinghua was the one he would be considering to give lessons on his peak, he would have laughed at the person's face.

Now look at him, chest once more on the ground, wheezing as the air got knocked out of his lungs with Shang Qinghua pressed him down, fingers digging the back of his neck while the other arm hugged him by the waist, and powerful thighs hold down his legs.

"You're getting better each fight, Shidi," Qinghua gasped next to his ear, body sliding all over Liu Qingge's back. "You're going to master this in no time."

Liu Qingge could feel something shift, the air between them getting heated. Yes they're fighting, but he felt more as if he were about to face a dangerous creature instead of sparing with a fellow cultivator.

"Another round?" Qinghua's voice rumbled against his back, and Liu Qingge couldn't keep his eyes open, arching his back just enough so he could feel Qinghua's body pressed all over him. "Or we can take a break, we did good progress."

"No!" He used his legs to twist his body, their spar becoming more shoving and pushing than an actual martial fight. Then, in a moment of luck, Liu Qingge finally trapped Shang Qinghua.

Just like the first time they fought, they stayed frozen for a long moment, but this time with Liu Qingge on top, victory tasting like dirty and sweat. He realized that he should get up, their faces so close they were sharing the same air, Qingge's eyes caughting the glimpse of Qinghua's tongue.

His arms went numb and his brain got deafening quiet as he got just a tiny little closer, just-

Shang Qinghua raised his legs until they seized Liu Qingge by his waist, twisting their bodies again until Qinghua was on top, one hand immobilizing one of Qingge's legs by pushing it up until his knee was almost touching his chest, the other pinning both of his wrists to the ground.

"Seems like Shidi lost." And Liu Qingge was starting to think he had hit his head during their fight because... Who was this man? Where this confidence came from?!

And most importantly, why was it making him so- So!!

Oh.

Oh no.

"Is Liu-Shidi satisfied with the lesson?" Shang Qinghua smiled, and this time it was the furthest thing from his usual blank one. Oh, no, this smile was of a man who was about to have a feast.

And Liu Qingge was laying in a silver plate.

"Hmm. Liu-shidi did very well. This Shixiong thinks he deserves something nice for being such a good student," he said as he pressed his body down a bit more, tearing a moan from Qingge's throat. "What do you think, shidi? Would you like to have another round? Maybe somewhere a bit more... Comfortable?"

The line was cheesy, something straight out of one of his sister's books, and it shouldn't work, it shouldn't-

It shouldn't work but Liu Qingge felt himself nod, whispering "Yes" over and over again, moaning as Shang Qinghua threw him over his shoulder, carrying him all the way to his room.

And if he had gone back to more lessons later that week, and the week after that, well. He wouldn't be War God of Bai Zhan if he passed the opportunity of a good fight, right?

[naehja]

AU where Shen Jiu wakes up in the past after diying from having his members ripped from his body and learning Yue Qingyuan's death.

He's not replaced by Shen Yuan but he has 8/9 years of memories of futur events so he decided to make sure that nobody bad will happen to him, he loves having his members thank you very much. And he can save...

Starting with saving Liu Qingge.

He goes sooner in the caves and start to meditate. He needs to be stronger. He needs to be strong.

And he successes to save his Shidi…and almost die in the process.

Liu Qingge brings Shen Jiu to the healers because he's in a bad state and is the one to face the demons.

Later, he's very confused and decides to bring gifts to Shen Jiu in a way to thank him. His sister jokes about those gifts being courting gifts. Bonus if Shen Jiu needs QI transfert (like Shen Yuan in the book) and he decides that his brute is the only one that he will tolerate. So they starts to speak and become closer. And he gets better physically.

(Liu Qingge would be extremely offended if someone says that his QI deviation was a murder attempt from Shen Jiu)

(Someone has tried to said it)

Meanwhile Shern Jiu doesn't know what to do with Luo Binghe. He realizes that 1) he can't kill him 2) This brat has a incredible luck like if destiny was in his side 3) if he hurts him, he will die.

So he stops hurting him but doesn't particulary pay attention to him. He's cold and distant. He's still a strict teacher but isn't especially nice or cruel neither. He will not throw him in the abyss so it'll be ok. He hopes.

Meanwhile, the changes appear in the modern world like a sequel of the original story. Like if this new story, centered on Shen Jiu, was the official sequel.

Shen Yuan is annoyed. "what do you mean the scum villain is the main character now and everything of the future has been erased?"

"What do you mean YingYing is like a daugther for him? He never did anything wrong to her?"

""Wait...how many accusation were accurates then?""

"WHAT IS THIS HORRIBLE BACKSTORY AIRPLANE? YOU FREAKING SADIST!"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN LUO BINGHE ISN'T IMPORTANT ANYMORE?"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE LIUJIU IS A BETTER ROMANCE THAN ANY ROMANCE THAT LUO BINGHE HAS HAD IN THE ORIGINAL STORY?"

A lot of fans are happy because they thought that there had something between Shen Jiu and Liu Qingge.

Meanwhile Shang Qinghua: my son is happy. =) I never thought to his ship but it's perfect!

[edgeray]

I just read your dragon arle x dragon hunter reader fic and I can't stop rereading it. Can I request either the dragon sibs & arlecchino's pov of the fic or a continuation of the fic (either of just reader's daily life now that they've been adopted by a dragon family or of arlecchino and (maybe) the dragon babies having human forms and surprising the reader with them (maybe both))?

Also could I be 🏹 anon? (I'm not the one who requested dragon arle x dragon hunter reader but damn do I wish I was)

Dragon Hunter Mother Part 2

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N -  Part 1 here I'M BACKKKKKKKKKK. Okay, wow, uh, hi, anons! Yes, you can be 🏹 anon, I added you to the list a while ago. To the anon that was asking for readers to fight off other dragon hunters, if you request again, give yourself a name/emoji like my other wonderful anons :). 🍎 anon, I'm not sure what you mean by real form, but I had the real form for Arlecchino as her human form.  If it wasn't clear, I thought I was just going to combine all three of these into one part, hopefully that's okay with you guys. I wrote this as best as I could. I didn't think the dragon au! would be so liked but guess the world building I pulled from my ass paid off. Reader will be fem just like the first part. Hopefully you guys like this sequel! And hope the world building for this is okay. I don't know why, but I decided to put an excessive amount of stupid world building that probably doesn't make sense… Also made the babies smaller (and I changed this in the first part too) so cuddling them can be better <33 sorry this took so long... hopefully the length makes up for it. 🫶 this makes the longest request I've done so far, and somehow I wrote all of this today... Content warnings / info - creature x reader, arlecchino is a dragon. fem reader, graphic violence, you get called a bitch (sorry), 3.9k words

Being kidnapped adopted by a family of dragons was not on your bucket list, but here you are. At the beginning, you considered running– after all, you had no idea if you were just going to be emergency dragon food or something, though logically you knew that dragons didn't eat humans. You were a hunter, and you were on a job, but you couldn't find it within yourself to pick up the sword again. Not only would that be foolish because there was no fathomable way for you to beat the Father dragon, but the trio of younglings had grown on you in such a short amount of time. It's only been a few weeks, and you feel like you've quickly adjusted to this weird, but cozy family nonetheless. 

The first night you met the dragons quickly became a fond memory to recall back to. What transpired during that night was this: after the babies had successfully calmed down their Father, their Father sat up, growling something to the hatchlings. The large dragon began striding in the direction of where it came from, and the babies left your side to follow. Confusion struck you and you approached the Father dragon.

“Hey, wait, where are you guys–” your own yelp interrupted you as the larger dragon's tail coiled around, picking you up like you were no more than a leaf. You squirmed in its grasp until you were dropped onto the Father’s head. Your eyes widened upon realizing what they were going to do, and you cling onto one of the spikes on the dragon’s head for dear life. The Father dragon flaps its wings a few times, striding backwards, and then begins running. The movements nearly threw you off of the dragon had you not white-knucle gripped onto it, and then you feel the rushing of wind all over you, threatening to blow you away. Your eyes burned from the oncoming torrent, and you shutted your eyes as the frigid night air whips around you, just praying to your archons that you remain alive after this. 

You didn’t know how long you squeezed your eyes shut, but by the time the icy gusts stopped pricking at your skin–only just caressing your skin like a gentle embrace–it’s when you finally opened your eyes. A black canvas dotted with various bright specks greeted your vision, and you gaped silently. You’ve always thought that the night was beautiful, but up close, you were sure of it; it’s entrancing and no short of magnificent. The beating organ inside of your chest thumped rhythmically, and you thought that if you reached out your hand, you would be able to feel the stars on your fingertips. 

You heard a croak beside you and you recalled that you were among dragons. You looked down. The dragon below you tilted their head towards you, glaring back at you over its wings, piercing crossed eyes scrutinizing you. Sheepishly smiling, you rub its head gently with your hand, and you could physically feel it shiver. You relaxed your hold, leaning forward and allowing your front to press against its scale to rest. Turning your head to the side, you watch miniature dragons fly, somehow keeping up with their father. You tentatively peeked down to see how high up you are, and your stomach churned uneasily. Distracting yourself from the terrifying height you’re at, how you can barely see the peaks of the coniferous trees, you try to think where they were taking you. Surely… you weren’t going to be stowed away in their den as emergency food… right? The babies would protect you… hopefully. 

The rest of the ride was smooth; somehow you had not fallen off. They took you to a cave at the base of the mountain in the center of the forest. Inside the cavern, the ground was matted with wool. This must have come from the sheeps that the Father dragon reportedly stole from the nearby villages. You assumed that this is a nest. The red one (should you just give them names instead of referring to them by their colors? You'll call the red one “Ruby” for now), nudged the back of your leg towards the nest, before its siblings leapt into it. Like cats, “Aqua” (short for Aquamarine) circled around a certain area before laying down, its sibling, “Amber,” following it and curling beside it. 

You gazed at “Father” to check for any signs of protest, but it too steps towards the nest before laying down. Its massive body took up the majority of the nest, and it used its tail to gently push “Aqua” and “Amber” closer to it. Seemed like there was no protest from Father. Hesitantly, you approached the nest, feeling like you just stepped onto sacred grounds you didn't belong to. Tentatively, you laid on your side and Ruby went to snuggle against its other siblings. 

Soon, the babies’ snores filled the cavern. Sleep was hard to come by, especially since you were still in your armor and the matting wasn't very comfortable. The cold didn't help either. You ended up just gazing at the wilderness beyond the cave, observing the crescent moon. Eventually, your body became sore from the uncomfortable position, and you figured that slumber wouldn’t come to you soon anyways. Standing up, you made your way towards the exit, just to stretch your legs and take some fresh air. 

Leaning against the entrance, your thoughts ran rampant with wonderings. 

Should you run away? Did you even want to run away? What about your family? What about your job? Well… your family cared about your other siblings more anyways and it wasn't like you liked your job–you've always wanted a break from it. You doubt you could run away from them if you did; dragons had an impressive sense of smell and you wouldn't get very far in this terrain anyways. The babies specifically seemed especially fond of you, and their father tolerated you enough… maybe they had adopted you as their family? If so, then… What was wrong with having a serene life with dragons? 

Well, assuming, again, that they didn't want to eat you. But you didn't want to go back. That life of glory was for someone else. You'd rather live quietly and cozily, even if you were dirt poor. 

“Do you not intend on running away?” 

Your blood froze from the sudden voice, coming from behind you. You whipped around to see a human–no, something that looked like a human–advancing, and you took a step back. You notice the missing large dragon from the nest, only the hatchlings remain, unaware of their missing father. This… creature looked human (a rather pale, tall, and handsome female human) with two spiky, blackhorns peaking above her predominantly white strands, a draconic black and red tail loosely curled around her legs, and black forearms and clawed hands. But the moment you locked eyes with red x-eyes, you knew who she was. Or more like, what she was. 

She was, perhaps, the most breathtaking being you've ever seen, the moonlight making her seem elysian. The embodiment of perfection, for both human and beast, with her voice belonging to those of angels. 

But she was still a dragon, and that thought threw you back to reality. 

“You're human… but a dragon,” you stated matter-of-factly, your flusteredness apparent in your voice.

Her face remained as stoney as her dragon form. “You're correct, Miss Dragon Hunter.” 

This was new. Even if you had extensively researched dragons, you never knew of this. “How?”

“Is that something I should be telling a dragon hunter?” 

You bit your lip. “Is this how ancient dragons were able to stay hidden from us?” You wondered out loud.

“Precisely.” 

“If your human form is female-presenting… Does that mean you're a female dragon? But why? Female dragons take… well, a maternal role, but you serve the paternal role. I thought… that you were a male dragon.” 

“I am indeed a female dragon. However… I never sought out a mate, and so I could not produce my own children. The children,” she gestured at the sleeping hatchlings. “were runts when I found them. Like myself, they had no paternal figure, and the maternal figure naturally abandoned them after birth, so I stepped in.”

You nodded. “Why… did you not kill me?” 

“You fed them. And, with that, I believe they saw you as the maternal figure they lacked. They would be saddened if I killed you. But… considering that you’re a dragon hunter… it's quite a shame,” she remarked threateningly as she extended out her claws, nearing you. Your heart thundered in your ears, fear pumping through every vein. She was going to kill you? 

“Wait, wait. I'll give up. I won't go back. I swear,” you state, stepping back. 

“And why should I believe you?” 

Quickly, you removed the chainmail armor off of you, and with great effort, ripped out the patch stitched onto your shoulder pad. You chucked the armor into a forsaken direction, before you offered the patch to her. “This… this is a symbol of my occupation as a dragon hunter. Without it, I'm nobody. It’s my proof that I'm a dragon hunter. If I don't have it, I can't get any kill orders or receive any weapons or additional aid.”

The dragon raised her brow. A clawed hand took the patch from your hand, before a fire erupted from her palm, effortlessly burning it into ashes. “But how do I know you won't attempt to hurt my family?” She growled.

“I wouldn't. I've… never wanted to be a dragon hunter. I was born into a prestigious dragon hunter family, and I was expected to hunt myself. But… I never wanted to kill dragons.” You tilted your head down, breaking eye contact from her in favor of looking at your feet. 

The dragon stalked towards you until she was only a few inches away. Even in human form, she still towered over you. She pulled you with her tail, which winded around your midsection tightly until she was flushed against you. She gripped your chin in between her clawed fingers. 

“I'll be watching you myself. For now, my children enjoy your presence. But if a single one of them cries so much because of you, know that you will be killed, mercilessly and painfully. Do you understand that, human?”  

“Yes…” You paused when you realized you didn't have her name. You looked at her expectedly. 

“It's Arlecchino.” 

“Yes, Arlecchino. I understand.” Her name sounded right on your tongue.

“Good. Come now, the children are rather quick on noticing my absence from the nest.” Arlecchino expressed, turning back.

“I think I'll stay out here for a while. It's hard for me to fall asleep… it's a bit cold for humans,” you sheepishly admitted. “I'll come back when I'm more tired, I promise.” 

Arlecchino turned around to observe you, noticing your shivering form and the goosebumps on your skin. “I believe I have a solution. Come,” she said, offering her hand towards you. 

You took her hand, and she laid you to the nest again. She laid down on her side first, before urging you to follow her. The nest was comically large compared to the two of you and the baby dragons now that she was in her human form. As you set yourself down, back facing her, clawed hands found their way around your waist before hauling you towards her, her chest pressed against your spine. You hear the flap of a wing, and then the wing is casted over the two of you, acting as a makeshift blanket. You gasped as her hot breath tickled your earlobe, the tips of your ears burning. “Warm enough for you now, human?”

You still had trouble sleeping that night, but for a different reason. 

— 

You learned of the hatchlings' names the day after. Translated to human language from the draconic tongue, “Ruby” was actually Lyney, and his siblings Lynette and Freminet, “Aqua” and “Amber” respectively. Their personalities shone through pretty quickly the longer you stayed with them. 

Lyney, undoubtedly, was the most energetic and clingy, in an endearing way. Always the first one up and stirring up trouble, alongside his younger brother, Freminet–even though Freminet was the shy, considerate one. Lynette was quiet but always present, comparable to a cat when Lyney acted the most like a puppy, and Freminet, a deer. Lyney had once nearly burned down the nest out of sheer eagerness when you surprised them by arriving at the cave with fish when they had just woken up. It didn't take you long to realize that cod was Lyney's favorite, even when you didn't understand dragon language. 

Arlecchino warmed up to you eventually. The first night helped a lot, and so did the children. Standoffish at first, once she realized you had the best intentions in mind for her children she was begrudgingly softer with you. The ‘nestling’ (as the children resorted to calling it after Freminet saw it, having woken up in the middle of the night when Lyney's tail accidentally whacked him) became a nightly occurrence, and you couldn't say that you were complaining. It became evident to yourself that you were attracted to Arlecchino. She was wordlessly sweet, and attentive to you, but especially the children. A powerful, ancient dragon practically bowing down to dragons five times smaller than her was amusing to witness. 

You were able to dissuade Arlecchino's attempts from visiting the nearby villages now that you were able to get the food for the hatchlings. Arlecchino had stopped visiting villages once she was able to obtain a human form, which allowed her to more efficiently metabolize food unlike beforehand. However, upon taking care of the Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet, she needed much more than what the forest could provide, hence the frequent visits. 

Arlecchino did eventually tell you how her human form came to be. Dragons are, first and foremost, creatures created with magic, and so also hold magic. There are two different maturities that dragons reach in their lifetime. The physical maturity, which is when their wings are fully developed and they reach the age when they no longer have to be sheltered. Then, there is the magical maturity, when they learn to properly utilize the magic they're born with once enough magic has been culminated internally over the years. Dragons reach magical maturity after their second molt, and shapeshifting is the most common application; though most dragons like Arlecchino use human forms in order to assimilate into human society. It explains why ancient dragons are rarely ever seen. Draconic magic is unlike anything you've ever seen, incomparable to how humans use it–you couldn't even wrap your head around it. Either way, once Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet reach of age, they too will have human forms. You wondered what they would look like. 

Your life is simple, albeit a bit boring, but nonetheless, you couldn't love it more. You have children that keep you on your toes, and you have… well, Arlecchino, your personal heater at night. It's the cozy life you've always wanted, though you'd like for the nest to be more comfortable, and considerably warmer. 

It's why you’re currently at a nearby town, buying more wool with the money that you had when you were still a dragon hunter. You had traveled with Arlecchino to your hometown to retrieve the money you secretly stashed away, which could have bought a large house in the center of the town. At least, being a dragon hunter wasn't entirely useless. 

You buy your wool and head towards the edge of the forest that bordered the town. The children were waiting for you there, wanting to see what new treats you were getting them. Last time was grilled steak. This time it's dried fruits. It'd be the first time that they tried dried fruits, you hope that they'll like them. As you treach back to where you told them to stay, you notice footprints in the dirt– footprints that weren't yours, and there were multiple of them. All of them seemed to belong to men. Terror struck you in an instant. Why were there people here? People rarely come here. No, it should be fine, it’s just foragers, right? 

Anxiety grips at you as you continue, but it's quickly dispelled once you find the dragons, all safe and sound. You exhale and giggle as Lyney leaps into your arms, while Lynette brushes against your leg and Freminet perches on top of your head. 

“Freminet, you're heavy–” you stop when something snaps behind you. Immediately, you set down Lyney and Freminet before turning around, and your worst fears come to fruition as your sight lands on a group of men coming from the bushes, familiar swords and armor gleaming in the sunlight. Your stomach drops upon the realization. Dragon hunters. And there's about ten of them. Ten of them versus one of you. 

You step in front of the dragons immediately, your hand trailing to the small knife in your pocket. 

“Hey, the old man was right. Following that bitch would lead us to the dragons,” one of them said. “How much is for each head?”

“Well, babies are rare. So a few million Mora per head. Can be ten times more if we get them alive.”

“Get your Father,” you whisper to them, as you push the dragons. They croak worriedly at you, their teeth tugging on your boot for you to come with them. 

“Go!” You yelled a little more assertively. Lynette and Freminet fly off to the direction of the cave, while Lyney remains. You were about to shoo off Lyney too, but then you hear the sound of a bow being drawn. 

It's like you suddenly become possessed, your body moving on automatically as you charge at the archer, short knife in hand. You knock his hand away, making their arrow shoot astray instead of at one of the dragons still flying, before you slit his throat. You narrowly dodge one of the swordsmen's strike, his long-blade an inch away from your chest. Another one from behind you swings, and this time it cuts your side, only shallowly so. You're thankful that your dragon hunter instincts and reflexives are still imprinted on your body, as that's the only thing keeping you alive and allowing you to dodge them. Though they all seem like amateur dragon hunters, compared to you who was the best out of your year, there were still many more of them than you

Another archer draws his bow, but you're still preoccupied with dodging. This foraging knife can barely do shit, and you're hardly able to fend off against the ones surrounding you. The group of dragon hunters split off, half of them chasing towards where Lynette and Freminet went while the other half is currently fighting you.  

No, no, you can't reach him in time, what if he hits Lyney or Freminet–

Fire abruptly emerges, scalding the archer's face making him cry out. The fallen archer's scream successfully distracts the men around you, and you weasel your way out, grabbing Lyney who’s in the process of breathing out fire again and running. You drop your backpack to allow you to run better, but not before making sure you chuck it at one of the hunters. 

“Good job, Lyney,” you praise the hatchling in your arms, stroking his head. 

You had to make sure the group in front didn't find the cave. Lynette and Freminet aren't fast flyers, their wings aren't nearly developed yet. You fear that more archers are with the group in front. Thanks to the lack of weight on you, you're able to evade the ones behind quickly, and catch up to the half of the hunters that had run off earlier. 

The sound of their own footsteps mask yours, and you’re able to stab the swordsman that's lacking behind in the neck, before stealing his sword. His scream attracts the attention from the other hunters and they spin around to face you. Good, they won't be focused on the other dragons now. 

“Lyney, go, please. Your siblings need their big brother,” you whispered, giving the hatchling one more stroke on the head before throwing him up in the air. Lyney, this time, obeys you, flying away but not before giving you one more glance back. It’s just you and five hunters in front of you, another three coming soon. The archers are the most pressing concern, as you rush at them. However, two swordsmen block you from them. 

“No!” You scream as the archers take aim, their arrows aimed at Lyney. You throw your knife, past the blade-wielding hunters and into the back of the head of one of the archers. However, that action cost you your arm getting cut, a long slash down the side of your forearm. You hiss, backing away, but the three of them quickly surround you. There’s still a single archer left. 

“Fuck, what are you even protecting those stupid reptiles anyways? Just tell us where they live and we'll let you live!” 

You only grit your teeth and ready your sword. The only way you can get to the last archer is if you brute force your way, but you can't. You hear footsteps approaching from behind, and the remaining three are already here. 

“We need her alive for now, so she can tell us where it is,” you hear one of them say.

The idea starts settling inside of you–that you're going to die, if it continues like this. You’re not going to tell them where the cave is obviously, even with whatever sick torture they have in plan for you. But were you willing to die now? After you've just achieved the life you had always wanted? You just wanted to live a peaceful life… was this your karma for being a dragon hunter? You swallow thickly, trying to imagine not seeing the hatchlings again or even Arlecchino. In the short time you’ve spent with them, you really have seen them as your own, your family. Ironic that you end up dying for dragons when you yourself were a dragon hunter, huh?

Continuing fighting would be pointless. You’re dead either way, why struggle more? Still… the children are safe. It'd be okay. It'd be okay. They've survived before you, and they'll continue to survive after. Dying would be okay. 

You close your eyes, trying to blink the tears away. It'll be okay, it'll be–

A roar booms through the forest, and then a loud boom, the ground shaking violently underneath you, causing you to tumble onto the floor harshly. In front of you, on top of the crushed bodies of the former dragon hunters, the dragon form of Arlecchino appears. You quickly run to her side, grasping onto one of her legs. Soon, dark red flames escape out of her throat, enveloping the last of the hunters and then, all ten hunters are dead, just like that. 

Once the last hunter falls, Arlecchino immediately turns into her human form, holding you in her arms. You collapse into her arms, the exhaustion from the running and fighting weighing down on you as the adrenaline quickly disappears. 

“The… children?” you're able to pant out as you look up at her. 

“They're safe.” Her eyes hold gratitude towards you. “I thought I lost you.”

“I'm okay, Arlecchino, I promise. Just a few cuts,” you reassure her with a smile, nuzzling into her neck. She sighs and kisses the top of your head. 

“I’m not letting you go anywhere without me anymore.”

“Fine…” 

[oonajaeadira]

That Awoooo Inside You, Pt. 1

Fandom: The Wild Robot / Fink the Fox

Pairing: Fink <3s OFC fox

Rating: G all the way, don’t worry. This is keeping in the world and disgustingly wholesome. Prolly too clean for tumbles 😆

Warnings: None. It’s for cuteness and for heart.

Summary: After the events of The Wild Robot, a new resident joins the island.

A/N: Listen. This is just for fun. I love a fox character and I love a sassmaster with a gooey center and my heart melted for Fink. He is very lovable. As @something-tofightfor mentioned in a chat with me, “he just wanted to matter to someone.” I totally agree. In keeping with the frank but sweet style of the movie, I just ached to give Fink a silly little sequel and it feels in bad practice to keep it locked up when I’ve had such blockage lately. Thank you for indulging my exercise.

It was a mild spring evening like any other, the sun going down as Fink bounded back inland, his belly nearly dragging on the ground after an afternoon of digging clams and catching fish. If it hadn’t been for Roz, he’d just be waking up for the evening, getting ready to hunt mice and rabbits. But thanks to Roz, he couldn’t bring himself to eat them anymore. He couldn’t eat his friends.

He smiled warmly. Friends.

And thanks to Roz, there was a soft, mossy green bed for him to curl up in after gorging himself on the pantry of the sea. It was waiting for him just ahead, its siren song of comfort and sleep calling out to him. Why be a hunter in the cold night when you can fish in the warm sun and sleep in a warm basket? What a life he’d lucked into.

Suddenly though, the spring evening like-any-other shifted into something else entirely when he was hit with a scent so new and wondrous that his quick feet stumbled to a stop just before the hut came into view. Putting his nose to the wind he let it wash over him and the scent ran through him like fire, tingled like a storm in the air, chattered his jaw and set every hair on end…

But in a really, really delicious way.

Obsession was something he was used to, but this was intense. He had to find it. Had to paw at it and roll in it. He needed it ground deep into his fur and he was running full out before he realized it, not off into the woods but to familiar ground, to his very own home.

“Your tail’s all puffed out,” Thorn noted as Fink came through the opening. “Someone chasin’ you? That’s my job.”

The bear gave a low laugh and Fink ignored him, hastily scanning the hut for the source of his agitation, not caring so much that his tail was puffy, but he couldn’t stop it twitching. “What… what what is that smell?”

“Oh. That’s probably her.” Thorn heaved himself off his big furry butt and stepped to the side, revealing Fink’s bed and the creature sleeping in it. “Found her washed up on the shore. Still alive. Barely. Thought you wouldn’t mind if I brought her here–”

“It’s a…fox. Another fox.” Fink stood aghast. He hadn’t seen a fox on this part of the island for most of his life. His mother had driven him off as soon as she was going to have another litter and the only other foxes around had been bigger males or his sisters, so he had run for days hoping to find a territory where he wouldn’t be bitten and bullied and kicked around by them. He’d found this corner of the island to be lonely, but at least he wouldn’t get himself killed over territory disputes. And then, of course came Roz and Brightbill and then this corner hadn’t been so lonely after all. It had seemed a fair trade to make; with such a warm, accepting new family, he’d never even stopped to wish for someone of his own ilk.

But now…

“She is?” Thorn mused. “Never seen a white fox before. Just thought she was a kind of weasel or something.”

Fink’s nose twitched. “No. She’s definitely fox.” Slowly approaching the bed, he craned around to get a better look at her sleeping face tucked halfway under her gray-tipped tail. She was small and her features were a little more delicate, but that scent couldn’t be denied. “Definitely.”

Another fox! Here! Where did she come from? How did she survive into maturity with that coloring in the wild? Was she friendly? She’d have to be taught the rules of their community. She’d need a place to stay…well, here, of course, with himself. No doubt. Foxes united. Was she clever? Another fox could help keep the raccoons in order. Would she be in pain when she woke up? No visible injuries. Would she be hungry?

Fink gasped.

Another chuckle from the bear. “Well that’s just great. Now there’s two of ‘em. Dandy.”

Ignoring the sarcasm, Fink turned and ran for the door. “If she wakes up before I get back, don’t let her leave!”

“Where you goin’?”

“River! Fish!”

Darting under fallen trees and skipping over the bank stones, making the grasses into a blurring tunnel of green, Fink made quick work of the path to the river. Getting a fish under duress and desperation was less than graceful though, slipping off the tree spanning the water and falling in, swimming halfway to shore before surrendering the indignity of being wet and turning around to paddle back to the center of the stream and bite bite bite at the water where the fish were jumping in the twilight as they came up to the surface for bugs. By the time he returned to the hut with a fish in his jaws the sun was finally down.

There were a number of animals sitting in the meadow outside of the shelter when he arrived, sitting up on their haunches and vying for a view, attracted by the noise of spitting and snarling, of Thorn bellowing reassurances, and a great deal of scampering happening inside. It seemed their guest was awake. Fink had to paw at the bear’s backside to get into the hut–Thorn was plugging the entrance with his body–and was able to squeeze through in a moment of silence.

The hut was in chaos, everything that could be upturned had been, and the white fox herself was at the side furthest from the door, braced and ready to spring, exhausted and panting, seemingly fighting for her life. She was now ashy as the shadows inside the hut; it seemed she’d fallen into the cold fire pit at one point, her bright coat splotched with soot.

“I keep tryin’ to tell her she’s safe but she doesn’t wanna believe me,” the bear moaned, his defensive roar shaking the walls.

Dropping the fish, Fink rolled his eyes. “Gee. I wonder why.” He took a few steps toward the newcomer. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry this big lug scared you–”

“Oh right,” she panted. “Why would I be afraid of two predators that are keeping me trapped in a cave and won’t let me leave????”

“Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa,” Fink flinched at her ferocity. He couldn’t blame her for going on defense, but he knew he had to calm her down fast before her flight instincts led her to hurt herself. He put on his gentlest voice. “You can leave, I promise you. But? Weeeeee need your help first.”

This threw her off, her breath catching and her eyes darting between Thorn and Fink in the darkness. 

Her eyes— one dark and one light–

“Help you? Help with what?”

It was working. Her panting slowed and her shoulders began to relax. Fink sneezed in a show of playfulness and gave a sideways glance to his quarry. “I came all the way back from the river to bring you this feast and it’s just gonna rot and stink up the hut if you don’t eat it.”

“I’ll eat it,” Thorn offered, earning a jab in the belly from Fink.

She continued to watch them a moment before slowly sitting back on her sooty haunches and considering. “I don’t get it. What’s the catch.”

“Trout, by the taste of it,” Fink sassed, sighing in mock dismay. “A little embarrassing, if I’m being honest. I’ve caught bigger, but I was in a hurry and they tend to be slippery. I had to take what I could get and–”

“I mean, what do you want?” She wasn’t amused. But she was calmer. 

“I…want you to…eat the fish?”

She huffed, squinting at them. “Why don’t one of you eat it?”

“Because we’re not hungry.” Returning to sincerity, Fink took up the fish and walked it around the central fire pit closer to her, stopping just as a twitch in her side warned that she might run. Laying it on the ground gently and turning his back on her to show trust, he resumed a sitting spot near Thorn at the door. “You’re new here. A guest. And we have rules. And rules are, the animals around here are all friends. Well, mostly. We don’t eat guests. And we don’t eat friends. And we don’t let guests eat friends. Or squirrels.”

“But… you’re predators,” she countered weakly, the fish beginning to pull her focus.

“We aaaare,” Fink conceded. “But? There’s enough bugs and shellfish around here for everyone, and plenty of good roots and berries. Someone really special made us understand that we survive better when we’re counting on each other instead of chomping on each other. My big friend here found you and brought you here to help you survive. You seem to be doing nicely with that and you can go, but we’d like to send you off with a full belly so you’re not tempted to eat any of our pals on the way out, capiche?” 

“So you’re not going to kill me.”

Fink and Thorn’s heads swung in unison.

“Too pretty to kill,” Thorn mumbled. Both foxes stared up at him. “What. I’ve never seen fur so white. She glows in the dark.”

They followed his gaze up to the round vent hole in the roof where the moonlight was shining in. The parts of her coat that weren’t besmirched with soot reflected it brilliantly, bluish-white in the darkness of the hut.

And perhaps it was the moonlight or perhaps it was her hunger, but something in her changed just then, grew softer, let go. And thanks to Roz, Fink had learned to see it.

“I’m Fink,” he said. “This collection of fur and odors is Thorn. You can stay as long as you want. Or you can go…but there are more who would probably like to meet you. Thorn? Move it. Let the lady pass if she wants.”

The bear stepped away from the door and let more of the moon in, catching the fish in its sparkling light. Beyond, it also illuminated the clearing outside and the crowd of animals there, predators and prey alike, peacefully side-by-side, trying to get a peek at the newcomer. 

Her eyes–one dark, one light– reflected the moon and her tentative decision not to run. “I’m Farrah,” she said with careful unveiling trust, before settling down and digging into the meal.

A collection of tiny possum voices called from outside. "Nice to meet you, Farrah! Welcome! We're glad you're not dead!"

Thorn bumbled about the hut, tipping things back into place with his nose, trying not to amble too close to Farrah or scare her while Fink simply laid down and, crossing his paws in silence, watched her eat.

Not so long ago, he was just like her. They all were. In one short year, a robot–a machine with a heart–had come and shown them all a better way to live. And for a while, Fink was happy. He had love and family; he mattered to someone. To many someones.

But he hadn’t considered that he might ever matter the most to one specific someone. 

Not until now, at least.

It was spring on the island. And he was a fox. He did foxy things. And maybe one of those things was finally considering what it might be like for a specific someone to matter the most to him.

---

PART 2

MAIN MASTERLIST

[solarmorrigan]

( @nitro502-the-sequel​‘s tags on this post made me ugly laugh and then I had to write something, I hope that’s okay??)

Wait, no, this is hilarious, hold on

Steve drops Eddie off at home later that night, where Wayne is awake and puttering around in the kitchen making what might possibly be lunch (he tends to keep overnight hours even on his days off, so as not to completely fuck his sleep schedule, but hell if Eddie can keep track of what time of “day” it is for him).

Wayne gives Eddie a nod of acknowledgement and turns back to the pan he’s stirring on the stove. “How was your–”

“HE CROCHETED ME A SCARF.”

This was a little louder than Eddie had meant to be, but Wayne, to his credit, doesn’t even flinch. He turns back to look at where Eddie is standing in the middle of the living area, clutching the ends of the aforementioned scarf like it’s a towel at the end of the world.

“Who did?”

“Steve.”

“Huh,” is all Wayne says. “Is crocheting the thing with the…?” He holds his fists out in front of him, rotating them at the wrists like he’s rowing a very tiny boat.

“No, that’s knitting. Apparently, they’re different,” Eddie says, brows raised and hands held up in front of him, like he can fend off the ghost of Steve’s surprisingly enthusiastic lecture on the subject. “Crocheting is with a hook, like–” Eddie holds out one curled fist, trying to demonstrate, but it mostly just looks like he’s either stabbing something or failing to pick up some invisible spaghetti. He gives up and flutters his hands in front of himself, clearing the image. “He showed me – never mind, it’s – you’re missing the point!”

“And I’m sure you’re gonna tell me what that is,” Wayne says, turning back to the stove before the beans (Eddie’s pretty sure it’s beans he’s smelling) start to burn.

“Steve crocheted me a scarf,” Eddie enunciates, because putting the proper emphasis on certain words will definitely solve the problem.

Wayne just hums. “Well, that was nice of him. Lord knows I can never get you to wear anything warm.”

Eddie groans, clutching at this scalp and then running his hands through his hair. He’s at least seventy-five percent certain Wayne is being obtuse on purpose.

“But what am I supposed to do about it?” he laments.

“Wear it, I’d say,” Wayne replies. “Can I see it?”

Eddie hesitates for a second, because it’s his scarf and Steve made it for him, and he doesn’t want anything to happen to it when he hasn’t even had it for twenty-four hours, but then he decides he’s being ridiculous, because if he can trust anyone with his stuff, it’s Wayne. He unwinds the scarf from around his neck and passes it over.

Wayne’s brows go up as he looks over the close, even stitches, running his fingers over the little ridges Steve somehow made with yarn. He nods appraisingly. “It’s nice,” he says, handing it back.

“Right?” Eddie tosses it back around his neck with a sigh.

“Did you say thank you?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, before thinking back over the moment when Steve had told him that the scarf was for him. “…more or less.”

Wayne shakes his head, turning back to his food with some unfavorable mutter about Eddie’s manners.

“Okay, but I think you’re still not seeing the problem here,” Eddie insists.

“Looks like the problem is that you’re having a conniption over a scarf in the middle of the damn living room,” Wayne shoots back.

“No, that’s– well I mean– no,” Eddie sputters. “Okay, look, what would you do if a girl made a scarf for you?”

Wayne pauses, and Eddie loves his uncle with his whole shriveled heart, but it is always funny watching him try to shift gears when he realizes they’re talking about gay things now.

“Well,” Wayne says slowly, “pretty sure I’m a little too old to have any girl knitting me a scarf.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie groans. “Fine! A mature woman, then. Work with me here!”

Eddie gets a raised eyebrow at the mature woman comment, but Wayne lets it slide. He tilts his head consideringly as he spoons some beans out onto a plate by the stove, where he’s already got toast waiting. He tilts the pan at Eddie, wordlessly offering, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I suppose I’d have to get her something in return,” Wayne finally says. “Or make her something, if I was the creative type.”

Eddie gets another pointed look at those last two words, and he groans again, letting his head fall back in defeat, because he’d been afraid that would be the answer.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to make. It’s not like I can make him warm clothes or do anything useful,” Eddie says, so caught up in the sudden and dramatic realization that all of his hobbies are entirely useless that he doesn’t manage to duck in time when Wayne gives him a not-entirely-gentle smack on the back of the head as he passes by into the living room.

“Stop that. The things you make are just fine. It doesn’t have to be useful, it just has to be thoughtful,” Wayne says, settling into his chair. “So quit standing around whining and go come up with something you can make to woo your boy.”

“Oh my god.” Eddie covers his face, even though Wayne will definitely already know he’s gone red. “You’re actually the worst. I don’t know why I talk to you.”

“You’re welcome for the advice,” Wayne drawls.

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waves a dismissive hand at him, but the quick “thanks” he throws out afterwards is entirely sincere.

He retreats to his room after that; apparently, he has some thinking to do.

[Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue | Ao3]

[nhaaauyen]

⁺˚⋆｡°✩ FLOATING ✩°｡⋆˚⁺

and baby i know you // sugar sweet like you always do

modern restaurant sev x reader au!: after your kiss on the beach, you return to work unsure of what it means now for the two of you. luckily, sevika answers that for you.

series masterpost: is it casual now? wc: 2.1k author's note: hi i could not sleep so i did the reasonable thing and wrote a sevika fic at 4am LMAOO i also wanted to try the headcannon format but I have no idea if I did it right smh </3 btw this is a sequel to is it casual now?and i wont be posting until exams are done (booo) but I hope you guys enjoy!!

♡ the beach kiss with sevika was everything - it was passionate and perfect in so many indescribable ways. but after you both parted ways, you realized you left without actually discussing your feelings - which by the way, was such a lesbian thing to do.

♡ now you're home, sprawled across your bed, staring at your phone like you could will it to buzz with a text from sevika. but the screen remains stubbornly blank. after what feels like an eternity of hopeful glancing, you finally toss it into a drawer. out of sight, out of mind. 

♡ but when you try to go about your nightly routine, your mind keeps drifting back to sevika. brushing your teeth, you remember what her lips taste like, like weed and sour candy. changing into pajamas? you’re wondering what she wears to bed instead.

♡ your resolve finally crumbles and you retrieve the phone, fingers trembling slightly as you unlock it. nothing. you wait a beat, then refresh again because maybe the universe is just running a little slow tonight. but it was, in fact not.

♡ in a moment of dramatic self-preservation, you shut off the phone completely. if you can't see the lack of messages, they can't hurt you, right?

♡ you huff in annoyance, and maybe you’re still a bit high, but it hurts... real bad.  you throw the covers on and shut your eyes, wishing for the ache in your chest to go away because it was one kiss - one magical kiss where sevika looked at you like you held the mysteries of the world and only she could uncover them. fuck, you had it bad.

♡ morning comes, and you're spectacularly late. why? because high-you thought turning off your only alarm was a genius move. clothes fly on haphazardly, hair gets half brushed, and you bathe in perfume to mask yesterday's lingering weed scent.

♡ you burst into the restaurant 20 minutes late, bracing for your head server's wrath. when you walk in, all eyes are on you and your ears turn red, from both the embarrassment of being late and the incident with your head server the day before.  

♡ beelining for the back to clock in, you instead collide with someone at the door. and of course out of everyone it could be, it's her. sevika, the one person you were hoping not to run into yet.

♡ "pagli?" the nickname stops you in your tracks. you look up, meeting that intense gaze that sends your mind reeling back to yesterday's kiss. suddenly, you're drowning in butterflies and the memory of how she looked at you like you were made of stardust.  sevika looked ridiculously good. she was wearing just her usual uniform with brown leather suspenders and a white collared shirt, but her muscles were stretched under the fabric and you’re starting to wonder how you survived working with her in the past few months.

♡ you start to stammer out an excuse, but sevika's already grabbing your arm, pulling you into the manager's office.  "your shirt has a bit of something," she says as she hands you a clean white shirt.  you look down to find a toothpaste stain, because of course.

♡ the awkwardness is palpable as you take the shirt, mumbling thanks while steadfastly avoiding eye contact. sevika seems to suddenly remember the concept of privacy and excuses herself. post-shirt-change, you brave the floor. your head server makes only one snarky comment about your tardiness. in your book, that's a win.

♡ the rest of your shift is normal. well, "normal" if you don't count your newfound spidey sense, or more accurately sevika-sense. it's like your body's attuned to her presence - you know when she's at the bar, talking to customers, probably when she blinks too.

♡ you catch her stealing glances at you across the room, and suddenly remembering drink orders becomes impossible. you don’t know how many tips you must’ve lost today from having to repeat orders.

♡ the kitchen is its usual chaos and when sevika squeezes in to help, the world narrows to the points where she touches. her hand on the small of your back as she passes, the brush of fingers as she takes plates from you - the feeling lingers even as you leave the kitchen.

♡ you're hyper-aware of every little interaction with sevika. but was it all in your head? are you reading too much into things? the uncertainty is maddening.

♡ the dining room is nearly empty as you put away the last of the chairs. a glance at the clock shows it's almost 11 pm.  suddenly, you realize how eerily quiet the restaurant is. where is everyone? 

♡ your question is answered by the soft strains of jazz floating through the air. huh. since when did the restaurant play music this late? assuming it's a speaker malfunction, you head to the kitchen to find sevika. when you find her, she’s surrounded by an array of ingredients on the kitchen counter.

♡ "where is everyone?" you ask, confused.

♡ "they left early. you didn't respond when someone asked if you were going out." mentally, you facepalm. of course you were spacing out earlier, definitely not to thoughts about a certain manager. you gesture to the ingredients. "what's all this?"

♡ "well," sevika says, "are you hungry?"  your stomach growls in response. traitor. "looks like i'm making a meal for two, then," she remarks with a sly smile.

♡ "wait, why are you still here?" you question.  "paperwork," she replies with a slight shrug. "can't leave yet." there's a pause, a moment of hesitation. "you can go if you want, though."

♡ you catch the hint of uncertainty in her voice. "well i have to stay to see if our manager can actually cook," you tease. sevika scoffs, "oh, i can cook. be prepared to have your taste buds forever changed."

♡ you laugh, moving closer. "can i help?" you settle next to her behind the counter. "promise you won't cut yourself? i can't afford any workplace injuries." she jokes.

♡ you roll your eyes dramatically. "i'm not that bad of a cook, you know."

♡ "we'll see about that," sevika chuckles, handing you a knife. as you start chopping vegetables, your arms occasionally brush against each other. the kitchen suddenly feels very warm, and it's not from the stove.

♡ "you eat meat?" sevika asks, eyebrow raised.

♡ "yeah, why?"

♡ she grins. "good. i'm making lamb curry." 

♡"i've never had that before." you admit. "never?" sevika looks shocked. "it's delicious." 

♡ you shrug, a bit embarrassed. "sorry, i don't usually eat what we serve to customers." sevika pauses, studying you for a moment. then her expression softens. "this is actually a recipe my dad passed down. the restaurant just got a shipment of curry leaves and peppers for next week's menu."

♡ "oh? will i be seeing this on the menu soon?" you ask, intrigued. she smirks, "i don't know. will my first customer like it?"

♡ the look she gives you makes you fumble with the knife. maybe you are that bad of a cook after all. or maybe it's just the effect she has on you. you're stirring the curry when sevika leans in. "give me a taste."

♡ you bring the spoon to her lips, but in your nervousness, you bump her nose instead. "no way you did that," she says in disbelief.  “that was definitely done on purpose.”

♡ "i did not!" you refute. "oh yeah?" she nudges the spoon, leaving a streak of curry across your cheek.

♡ "sevika!" you gasp, feigning outrage. she throws her head back, laughing. the sound makes your heart skip.

♡ "you suck," you mutter, fighting a smile. "i'm sorry, okay? come here." she grabs a rag, cupping your face gently as she wipes away the curry. your hand goes limp, spoon forgotten as you stare into each other's eyes. her hand is so gentle against your skin, the rag somehow feeling rougher than she does.

♡ the oven timer abruptly blares, shattering the moment. you both jump back, a bit flustered. when it's nearly ready, sevika asks you to set the table outside while she finishes up.

♡ "just sit down," she insists when you offer to help bring things out. she emerges with two steaming plates and a bottle of wine.  as you take in the ambiance - the soft lighting, the music, the intimate table setting - it hits you. this feels like a date. but you quickly push the thought away. you haven't even talked about what that moment on the beach meant yet.

♡ sevika's watching you expectantly as you take your first bite. the flavors explode on your tongue. "this is amazing," you say, eyes wide. "consider my taste buds changed forever."

♡ the smile she gives you in response is brighter than any star you've ever seen. you continue eating, stealing glances at each other over your wine glasses, and you have no idea how to stop the feeling like you’re floating right now. as you eat, the conversation flows easily. "you know, there used to be a dance floor here. silco had a band playing next to the bar."

♡ "what happened to it?" you ask. she shrugs. "people stopped using it. probably lost the confidence to dance in public." you chew thoughtfully, then suddenly stand up. "come on, let's dance."

♡ "what?" sevika looks at you like you've grown a second head.

♡ "there's music, good wine, and we're technically on an ex-dance floor," you argue, grinning. "it would be a crime if we don't dance."

♡ she hesitates. "i don't know how to dance."

♡ "neither do i," you admit, offering your hand. it's almost like an admission of something else - that you don't know how to navigate this new territory with sevika either.

♡ reluctantly, she takes your hand and stands. you pull her close, placing one hand on her waist as she rests hers on your shoulder. your first few steps are more stumble than dance. sevika chuckles, "i get why we took away the dance floor now."

♡ you shake your head, laughing. "we're god awful at this."

♡ "i know, but..." she trails off, her eyes meeting yours.

♡ "but what?" you ask, heart racing. she takes a deep breath. "but at least i get to hold you." your heart skips a beat. you look up from where your head was resting on her chest, only to find her already gazing at you with that same inscrutable look from the beach.

♡ it was like a magnetic force was pulling you together. suddenly, her lips are on yours, your hand tangled in her hair. she leans you back slightly, deepening the kiss in a move more graceful than any dance step you've attempted tonight.

♡ sevika’s lips are soft against yours, and you can taste the wine she drank from before on them.  as you part, she lets out a satisfied hum that vibrates through her chest and into yours. you keep your bodies close, foreheads touching, sharing the same breath.

♡ "was there any actual paperwork to do?" you whisper.

♡ she has a sheepish smile. "you caught me." 

♡ "the amount of kissing we did compare to work is starting to make sense now.” you quipped, feeling her shoulders rise and fall with her laughter. wrapped in her arms and still high from the kiss before, you find the courage to voice what's been on your mind. "i really, really like you." 

♡ sevika doesn’t respond with words but instead, with another kiss. when she pulls back, her eyes are twinkling. "dido?"

♡ you groan. "oh. my. god." her laughter fills the room, rich and genuine. "i really, really like you too," she enunciates clearly, her tone teasing. "better?"

♡ "way better," you affirm, pressing your head into her chest just like you did that first time by her car. but this time, it's different. where there was once uncertainty about your future with sevika, now there's a sense of rightness, of belonging.

♡ as you sway together in the dim light of the restaurant, the soft jazz still playing in the background, you notice how perfectly you fit together.  you lift your head, meeting her gaze. the look in her eyes - tender and with a hint of wonder - makes your heart swell. 

♡ "so," you murmur, "what's for dessert?"

♡ sevika answers with a grin that is wide and full of affection. "i thought we were already having it."

[kwanisms]

Of Hellfire & Saints 02 — k.hongjoong, k.yeosang

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➮ incubus!Hongjoong × fem!Reader wc: 22.9k (in this part. 50.2k total) summary: After the death of the love of her life, Y/N runs away from the village only to be caught in a heavy storm but she manages to find refuge in Hongjoong's hut in the forest. While waiting out the storm, someone knocks on the door, prompting her to answer the door. genres/themes/au: angst, slight fluff, smut; fantasy, horror, supernatural, biblical & demonic; non idol au, historical setting, demon warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, historical period setting (think Puritan or like Salem witch trials but fantasy and with more creative liberty lol), mentions of: alcohol & food consumption, witches & witchcraft, religious text & ideology, harm against animals, pregnancy; attempted SA, major & minor character deaths (heed this warning, i’m not playing around. This shit is DARK), sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

a/n:  the word count on this got away from me and so to make it all fit because i really don't want to edit it down, I've split it into two posts. I had really hoped to keep the word count down after what happened with part one but I really could not stop writing. as I said in the author notes of the first part, read with care and caution. Do NOT ignore the warnings. They are there for a reason, a lot of people die. It’s not fun. It’s gruesome. Also keep in mind that every action has a reason. Now that’s out of the way, please enjoy this sequel and keep an eye out for the next part which will be Seonghwa’s backstory. Thank you so much for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: smut warnings: there are multiple scenes in this so I will list the warnings for each one here but all of them involved unprotected sex. You do not do this. Use protection, this is fantasy. MAIN SCENE: fingering (f receiving), use of pet names (love, sweetheart, darling, etc), love-making (again because they’re in love~), cum inside, and that’s also it on this one! SMALLER SCENES: mentions of oral (f receiving, m receiving) and other elements of foreplay as well as table sex but nothing mentioned in great detail.

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The next morning you woke up before Yeosang and got up, grabbed your nightgown from your things, and pulled it on. Normally you would get dressed but as this was now your marital home, you didn’t feel the need to follow your parents rules. Instead, you made breakfast, collected a few eggs from the chicken coop and prepared a nice breakfast as well as some tea.

Once breakfast was ready, you carried the plates into the bedroom where Yeosang was still asleep and sat on the edge of the bed. You set the plates down and leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek and watched as he slowly came to.

He opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep and looked up at you sleepily, a smile crossing his face as you came into focus. “Morning,” he murmured and you smiled back, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Good morning, husband,” you said softly.

Yeosang’s eyes opened again as the realization sank in, his smile growing wider. “Oh, right,” he said as he reached up, caressing your cheek. “We got married,” he whispered to which you giggled and stole another kiss. “We got married,” you repeated.

Yeosang pulled you into a kiss, lips parting yours but you pulled back before he could escalate any further. “We can always spend the morning in bed,” you said softly as you sat up. “But you should eat breakfast first,” you added. You turned, grabbing one of the plates and holding it for him. Yeosang glanced at the plates and then back at you.

“Shouldn’t we get up and eat at the table?” he asked, to which you chuckled, kissing his confused face. “Who said we have to?” you asked as you handed him his plate and utensils. Yeosang sat up, leaning against the headboard as you grabbed the other plate and carefully climbed over him, taking the spot next to him with a giggle. He laughed as you settled in next to him and started eating.

“This is our home,” you said as you looked up at him. “And we make the rules here.”

You both ate breakfast, sipping the tea you had made and when you both finished, you took the plates and cups into the kitchen and set them aside to wash later before returning to the bed. Yeosang started to get up but you removed your chemise, letting it fall to the floor. Yeosang looked up at your naked form as you approached him.

“If this is what it’s like to be married,” he started, taking your hand and guiding you onto the bed as you pulled the covers back. “I’m glad I asked you to marry me.”

The next couple hours were spent in bed, Yeosang learning your body and you learning his, exploring each other more thoroughly. He took the lead, having picked up quickly what you liked and that you preferred him on top of you.

You introduced him to other aspects of the marital bed, learning very quickly what he liked and what made him weak in your hands. He wasted no time exploring your body and reciprocating the things you had learned from Hongjoong.

He learned that he really liked the way you tasted and how he could make you come undone with his tongue and fingers. He learned there was more to sex than just procreating and after multiple orgasms and coming inside you numerous times during your sessions, there was no doubt in your minds that one of them had to take.

You lay on the bed after hours of lovemaking, Yeosang on top of you, his head resting on your chest as you relaxed. Without warning, he raised his head and looked at you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I know we’ve only been married for less than a day but I honestly think I —” his words were cut off by a sharp knocking at the door.

Yeosang glanced in the direction of the front door before turning to look at you. “Hold that thought,” he said as he got up, hastily grabbing his clothes and dressed quickly. You pulled the covers up as he walked over to the door, throwing you a grimace before closing it.

You sat up, holding the sheets to your chest as you listened to his footsteps approach the front door followed by the sound of it opening. “Oh, Jonas,” you heard your husband say and fought the urge to burst into laughter, knowing full well that Yeosang probably looked less than presentable.

“Is everything alright?” you heard Jonas ask. You stifled a laugh as Yeosang stammered out a yes. He admitted the two of you woke up late and it took everything inside you not to burst out laughing at Jonas’ next question.

“Did the missus keep you up all night?”

You could imagine the look on Yeosang’s face and that his cheeks were probably bright red but he did sound embarrassed as he cleared his throat and spoke.

“Is there a reason you’re visiting me?” You shifted on the bed, straining your ears to hear the next words.

“The priests have started to arrive. The ones you sent for from the neighboring villages.”

Your eyes widened. ‘Priests?’ you wondered as you listened in. “Oh! I’ll just get dressed and meet you at the church,” Yeosang replied, sounding slightly flustered. You couldn’t see Jonas but imagined he nodded as his response was delayed for a moment.

“I think that would be best. I’m sure your wife could use the time during your absence to attend to her household duties.” Your smile fell but you let the comment slide. You heard the sound of footsteps heading for the door and Yeosang bid Jonas farewell before shutting the door.

You heard his steps shuffle towards the bedroom door and it opened. You looked up, meeting his eyes and finally the laughter you’d been holding in sprang free and you erupted into a fit of giggles as he entered the bedroom, moving to the bed and climbing onto it.

“How much did you hear?” he asked and you managed to choke out you heard enough. A grin spread across his face and soon your laughter came out unabashed as he started to tickle your sides. “You find it funny?” he asked as he continued to tickle you, laughing at your attempts to stop him. “He knew! He knew what we were doing!” he added.

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him down. “Of course he knew, Yeosang. We’re a young married couple. We just married yesterday. Of course we’re going to consummate our marriage.” Yeosang looked mortified but could help smile as you continued to giggle and pulled him into a kiss.

He leaned into you, deepening the kiss before he pulled back. “No,” he said as you kissed down the side of his neck. “I have to go. I can’t stay here in bed with you, as tempting as it is,” he added, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “After I meet with this priest, I will return and then we can resume, all right?”

You pouted up at him which only made him chuckle and tap the tip of your nose gently. “I promise, sweetheart,” he added, the sound of the name on his tongue making a flutter erupt in your stomach. “I have to meet with these priests and explain the situation and afterwards, I’ll come back.”

He pressed a few short kisses to your lips and you sighed. “Oh all right,” you finally conceded. “How long will you be?” you asked, taking his hand and nuzzling into his palm. “A few hours maybe,” he replied, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

You nodded slowly before sighing again. “Then I shall have lunch ready when you get back.” Yeosang smiled, pulling you into another kiss. “I look forward to it,” he said before getting up and starting to dress and make himself presentable.

Once he left, you got up and dressed finally and went about your chores, cleaning the used dishes and starting a fire to make lunch. You worked diligently as you hummed to yourself. You cut up potatoes and other vegetables from the pantry and added them to a pot with some beef stock as well as a cut of beef.

As it simmered, you went to work cleaning and putting away your things. You also hung up your painting, the one you had made of the wildflower field. As you stared at it, your mind wandered, a bittersweet feeling filling your chest.

Things had changed so drastically in the last few weeks since Hongjoong’s death. Before, you had planned to run away with Hongjoong, marry elsewhere, and start a life near the sea. That seemed like a distant memory now as you stood in your new home where you would live with your husband.

You had never imagined you would marry Yeosang as he was not the man you had fallen for but as the events unfolded, you couldn’t see yourself with anyone else. Hongjoong was the love of your life but you knew with Yeosang, you could be happy. You would be.

As promised, Yeosang returned but later than lunchtime as while he was meeting with the first priest, another arrived making it two he needed to speak with. When he returned for dinner, you sat at the table this time, listening as he told you about the priests, one named Yunho and one named Jongho.

That night as you were cleaning up after dinner, Yeosang joined you and despite your insistence that he leave the work to you, he helped you anyway. Initially you thought it was odd but as soon as the dishes were done he pulled you into a kiss which led to him guiding you to the table where he made you lie back as his kisses traveled down your clothed body, pulling your skirt up and burying his head between your thighs.

He had you on the brink of orgasm in no time and instead of letting you fall over the edge, he pulled back, wiping his mouth as he undid his pants and pushed them down, freeing his cock which he then pushed into you. It was raw, carnal and passionate as he made love to you on the table.

You seemed to have awakened a sexual beast in him after the first night and the next few days consisted of the same schedule. Meeting the priests who arrived, giving a brief explanation of the situation and taking them around the village to introduce them to the villagers before returning home for dinner and spending a good portion of the night making love to you.

His stamina and strength surprised you, as well his ability to pin you down against the nearest flat surface and make you moan his name over and over again. It was almost more than you could bear but bear it you did, because you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy every moment of it. Yeosang all but worshiped your body and any chance he had to show you that, he took.

His sexual appetite did not diminish even when the misfortunes of the village continued with the odd goat or pig being slaughtered in the night. Yeosang continued to show you physical love every night and even some mornings before you could pull yourself out of the tangle of sheets that was your marital bed.

Whether or not your attempts had gotten you pregnant didn’t matter to you. You enjoyed the physically intimate relationship between you and your husband immensely and that was more important than some religious texts telling you to have children. If a child came as a result of your union, then you would cherish that but it was not the goal.

For Yeosang, he was conflicted with his sexual urges because of the teachings of the church but he also knew that you were not exactly a godly woman but that didn’t bother him in the slightest. He knew this when he agreed to marry you. He wanted to protect you from the villagers' wrath should things go south but he also felt that by marrying you, it would also offer another layer of protection against the demon.

Surely Hongjoong would become enraged if he learned of the relationship between the two of you but that was a risk Yeosang was willing to take. He’d grown to love you before your wedding and while he hadn’t had the chance to tell you just yet, he still wanted to show you.

The day the final priest showed up was a quiet morning. A flock of chickens had been slaughtered in their coop the night before and the aftermath had been a slew of wails, cries, and calls for action. The last priest to arrive, a man named Mingi, was from the next closest village on the other side of the mountains. He arrived in the middle of the night so Yeosang was already in for the night. 

Jonas had offered him shelter and promised to rouse Yeosang in the morning which Yeosang would come to be eternally grateful for as he was deep in the throes of passion with you, tangled in the sheets as he made love to you again and again.

The next morning, Yeosang finally met with him to explain the situation and introduce him to the other priests. Mingi was a soft-spoken but highly intelligent man with an interesting history with witches. Yeosang had asked you before leaving to prepare a dinner large enough for all the priests so you planned to go foraging, stopping by your parent’s house to meet with your mother who agreed to go with you.

As you walked into the forest not too far from the village, you found the small section where you usually collected mushrooms from.

“How is married life?” your mother asked as you knelt down to start unearthing the mushrooms. “It is good,” you replied as you worked, handing her the mushrooms to put in the sack. “And how is your husband treating you?”

You looked up at her to see that she had a knowing look on her face. “He’s wonderful,” you answered truthfully. You handed her a few more mushrooms before getting up to move to another section, searching for more.

“And will we be expecting any new additions to the village soon?”

You glanced up at her, taking note of her smile before a smile spread over your face and you turned away in an attempt to hide it from your mother. “Y/N! Don’t you try to hide it from me!” your mother whispered, gently hitting you with the linen sack.

“We’re not trying exactly,” you explained as you dug up mushrooms. “We’re just… enjoying the marital bed,” you continued. “If a child comes from our… activities, we will gladly welcome it. Right now, Yeosang’s focus is the demon,” you added. 

Your mother stepped forward and knelt beside you, taking your hand in hers. “Becoming a mother is the greatest honor God can bestow upon you, Y/N,” she said gently. “It is your duty to give your husband children.” You nodded and looked up. “I know,” you answered. “I will welcome one if it comes but if one doesn’t…” you trailed off as a high pitched whistle rang out.

You turned to look around, noticing how the forest seemed to grow darker around you. Your mother stood without a word, looking into the trees, a look of dread and horror etched on her face. “Mother?” you asked, getting to your feet.

“Run,” your mother whispered, not taking her eyes off a particular spot in the trees. “Mama?” you asked, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “RUN!” she screamed, pushing you away. You fell back from the force and looked over in time to see a dark smoke billow out from the trees, heading for you and your mother.

You watched in horror as the smoke started to envelope your mother and she turned to look at you one final time. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N,” she said, her voice panicked as the smoke shrouded her. “Run and don’t look back!”

Before you could get to your feet, the smoke turned black, obscuring your mother from view and her anguished screams of pain filled the air, sending the birds in the trees into a flight, squawking as they did.

When the smoke dissipated, all that remained of your mother was a charred, skeletal corpse. You heard a twig snap and turned your head to see a black, shadowy figure with glowing red eyes watching you with a wide, crooked grin full of sharp teeth.

Your breathing came in heavy pants as you tried to scramble backwards, the figure floating towards you. As it drew closer, you could see the face come into view and let out a whimper of fear to see Hongjoong staring back at you, his skin blackened and cracked.

“Run little lamb,” he said in a deep, demonic voice. Before you could act, he lunged forward and you let out a scream, sitting upright. There was a shuffling from the other room and the door opened. You turned, cowering away as a figure entered the room and rushed over to the bed where you lay.

“Shh, shh,” a familiar voice said and you looked up as Yeosang sat down, taking your hand in his. “It’s alright, love,” he added. “I’m here.” He pulled you into a hug, stroking your back as you calmed down. “Wh-what happened?” you asked.

Yeosang pulled back and turned to look at the door where your mother stood, a wet cloth in her hand and worried look on her face. “You fainted,” she said without hesitation. You looked from her to Yeosang and back. “When?”

Your mother stepped forward. “When we went into the forest to get mushrooms. You were digging some up and took ill, fainting out on the ground.” You stared at her, trying to wrack your brain but all you could recall was the horrid dream you’d had.

‘It was a dream, right?’

You looked up at Yeosang who gently took your face in his hands, caressing the apple of your cheeks. “It’s all right, love,” he said softly. “Just take it slow,” he added as you pushed his hands away and attempted to sit up.

“Have you been feeling faint or taken ill in the mornings lately?” your mother asked, drawing your attention. You shook your head as you looked at her, watching her exchange looks with your husband. “What is going on?” you demanded.

“Your mother thinks — ” Yeosang started but your mother interrupted him, stepping forward to speak over your husband. “You might be with child,” she announced. You stared at her in stunned silence before turning your gaze to Yeosang who sighed and looked back at you.

“It’s highly possible,” he admitted, caressing your cheek with one hand and taking your hand with the other. ‘With child? Now?’ You fell silent as your mother and husband both talked at the same time until you finally snapped. “How can we know for sure?” you asked.

Both fell silent, looking at you. “How can we know for sure that I am with child?” Yeosang turned to your mother who hesitated before clearing her throat and speaking. “There are ways to check,” she admitted. “Specific… test we can perform.”

Yeosang glanced at you before speaking to your mother. “What sort of tests?” he asked. Your mother hesitated, wringing the cloth in her hand nervously. “Well, the barley and wheat test,” she said softly. “She would need to urinate on barley and wheat seeds over the course of several days. If the barley seeds sprout then it will be a boy. If the wheat seeds sprout, then you’ll be having a girl.”

“And if neither sprout?” you asked, breaking your silence. “Then you are not with child,” your mother answered. You saw Yeosang’s shoulders visibly relax and he turned to look at you, giving you a small smile. “It’s worth a try,” he said softly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You nodded in agreement.

“Just to be sure,” you stated to which both your mother and Yeosang nodded.

The next day, Yeosang managed to secure the seeds and buried them behind the house, marking their placement so you would be able to find them even at night. Each time you went out to do your business, your cheeks burned, although you knew no one was watching.

And each time, you returned to the house feeling more embarrassed than before and returned to the bedroom. Over the next few days, you continued to go outside to urinate over the spot where the seeds had been planted and your mother came by to help you with your daily chores. She insisted you rested and while she did your tasks before leaving to head home and prepare dinner for your father.

You ignored Yeosang’s insistence to stay in bed and got up to finish dinner. As you were checking the potatoes in the stew, there was a knock on the door. Yeosang answered it and you kept your head down as he let the visiting priests enter the house. It went from two to seven and soon your modest house was crowded.

Thankfully, there were extra chairs for the table in the second bedroom and Yeosang had the foresight to pull them out before and set the table up in the living room. He cleared his throat and crossed the living room to peer into the kitchen where you stood by the hearth.

“They’re here,” he said softly and beckoned you over. You shook your head. “Oh, no, it’s alright,” you said softly, waving your hand. “I’ll just serve them dinner and stay in here while you meet with them.” Yeosang glanced back before entering the kitchen and crossed the room to where you stood. He placed a hand on your waist, the other moving to tilt your head back to look at him. “I invited them here to meet you,” he explained.

“They want to meet you.”

Your eyes widened as you stared back at him. “They do?” Yeosang nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Of course,” he said softly, leaning into nuzzle his nose against yours in a display of affection before he placed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“So come out here and meet them, love.”

You placed the wooden ladle down, wiping your hands and smoothing down your apron. Yeosang took your hand and led you towards the door and into the living room. There were five men sitting around the table, a couple of them chatting amongst themselves.

When you entered with Yeosang, they all looked up in mild surprise. Your cheeks grew warm under their gazes as they watched you with your husband. “These are the visiting priests from the nearby villages,” Yeosang explained, gesturing at the group.

He gestured at the closest one, a man with cat-like eyes and broad shoulders. Even sitting down, you could tell this man was tall. He had hair like fire, a yellow that faded into fiery orange at the ends. “This is Song Mingi, he knows a lot about witches and sorcerers.”

Mingi nodded his head, bowing in a sign of respect, a gesture you returned. Next to him was a man who despite the thick black robes he wore you could tell was muscular and strong. He had dark brown, almost black hair, and gave you a small smile when your eyes met. “Choi Jongho, the youngest of his order and has performed a record number of exorcisms.”

Beside Jongho was a much slimmer looking man with bright red hair that took you by surprise. “Jung Wooyoung,” Yeosang said, as your gaze passed over  him. “He travels the countryside with his partner,” he explained, gesturing to the man sitting on the other side of Wooyoung. You nodded and felt your cheeks burn as Wooyoung smiled and sent you a wink. The man beside him, his partner, elbowed him harshly. 

Either your husband didn’t notice or chose not to address the wink, for he moved on. “Choi San,” he said and the man who had elbowed Wooyoung gave you a warm smile, his black hair shorter than Mingi’s but cut the same as Wooyoung’s and pushed back off his forehead.

“San is a demon hunter,” Yeosang explained. Sitting beside San was the last priest. “This is Jeong Yunho,” Yeosang introduced. “He has experience performing exorcisms and banishing rituals. He was the first to arrive,” Yeosang said, reminding you of the morning after your wedding night.

You smiled politely, bowing your head. “It’s nice to meet you, Misses,” Yunho said politely with a sweet smile. “This is Y/N,” Yeosang said, gesturing towards you. “My wife.”

There was a low chorus of greetings passed around by your guests and you returned them with as much politeness and grace as you could muster. You looked up at Yeosang and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I’ll go get the stew,” you explained.

“Let me help,” he said, turning to follow but you waved your hand, urging him to take his seat. The last thing you wanted was him to appear as anything other than the man of the house before your visitors and so you returned to the kitchen, grabbing a cloth to protect your hand as you grabbed the handle of the hot pot hanging over the hearth and the wooden ladle.

Your mother had already set the table, bowls, plates, and cups set for each person. Yeosang had filled the cups and pieces of bread were already set on the plates as you moved to place the pot on the table. It was much heavier than you initially thought, as you made more than you usually did.

Noticing your struggle, Mingi got up to help you and despite your protests, he took the heavy pot and set it on the table. You thanked him profusely and started to spoon a helping of stew into each bowl, serving your husband after each guest and before picking up the now much lighter pot.

“What about you?” you heard a voice ask and turned to find six pairs of eyes on you. With a smile you bowed your head. “I don’t want to get in the way,” you answered. “I will just eat in the kitchen and stay out of your way.” Yeosang’s expression fell but as he moved to get up, Wooyoung beat him to it, rounding the table and grabbing the pot from you.

You followed him, trying to take it back but he gently nudged you back and spooned a helping into the seventh bowl before setting the pot in the middle of the table, took your hand and placed a gentle hand on your back, guiding you to the spot between your husband and San.

“Sit,” he simply said and moved back to his own seat. You glanced around at the table before your eyes settled on your husband and he nodded towards the chair beside him. “The cook should not be confined to the kitchen,” San added, gesturing for you to sit and after a moment, you took your seat, thanking them as Yeosang tried to fill your cup but you declined.

The smell of the ale was enough to make your stomach churn and you didn’t want to get sick before you ate. You stared at the stew while those around you ate and enjoyed the meal. You grabbed the wooden spoon next to your bowl but as you stared at the meat and potatoes, you couldn’t fathom even taking a bite, your stomach churning as the mere thought of eating made you sick beyond belief.

“Yeosang tells us you’re familiar with the demon,” a voice drew you out of your stupor and you looked up, meeting the gaze of Yunho who sat across from you. You glanced to your left, where your husband sat. He looked up to meet your gaze and nodded encouragingly.

“It’s alright,” he said softly. “You can tell them. Whatever is said here will not leave this house.”

You set the spoon down and took a deep breath before starting.

“I am. In life, he was my…” you trailed off, glancing at Yeosang, uncertain of how to continue. “Go on, love,” he urged. “Just tell them.” You glanced back at Yunho, who was watching you curiously. “He was my previous lover,” you finally said.

A silence fell over the table. “Your lover?” San asked from your right. You turned him and nodded. “Yes,” you answered. “He lived in a cabin in the forest by himself. His great grandfather built the cabin for his pregnant wife and all generations of Hongjoong’s family have lived there. It’s where Hongjoong was born.”

“So he wasn’t a member of the community, then?” Mingi asked, to which you shook your head. “No,” you replied. “He lived outside our community, outside our… rules.” Mingi sat back, arms crossed over his chest and you noticed he’d already finished his bowl.

“If you’re still hungry, please,” you added, gesturing to the pot with a smile. A small smile spread over Mingi’s face before he thanked you and helped himself to more stew. “Please,” San said. “Continue.”

You went on, explaining how you met Hongjoong when you were around 12 years old and that the two of you never really interacted except when he came to the village with his family. You went on to tell them how you met again when he was 17 and his mother had just passed and then again when he was 18 and his father passed, leaving him alone.

You explained the story of your friendship that grew into romance and how you fell in love with Hongjoong. As you told the story, you could see various looks on the faces of your guests ranging from concentration to adoration. It occurred to you that this was the first time you were telling this story in front of Yeosang and he was listening with rapt attention.

As you concluded that part of the story, Jongho spoke up.

“How did he become a demon? Surely someone who lived as you have described doesn’t just turn into a demon overnight,” he said. He’d removed his robe at some point and under it he wore a black fitted jacket and black pants.

You shook your head. “I don’t pretend to know the details,” you said softly. “He explained to me what he could remember. He said he remembered suffocating and being surrounded by darkness. He also recalled an intense burning pain and this awful laughter. He said it felt like he was being tortured for thousands of years and then he came to.”

Wooyoung finally spoke up, his chin resting in his hand. “He woke up in the grave the villagers buried him in and freed himself?” he asked. You turned to him, peering around San, and nodded. “That’s what he said. He broke out of the coffin and clawed his way out of the grave.”

A few sets of eyes turned to look at your husband who confirmed your story. “When Y/N came to after taking ill, she told Jonas and I of this and I was immediately sent to check the grave and it was indeed disturbed. We then had it dug up and found the coffin empty, the top of it caved in,” he added. “We knew then that Hongjoong had risen from his grave.”

“What happened after he got out?” Mingi asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “He must have come straight back to the cabin,” you replied. “I was already there. I ran away from my parents house after…” you hesitated, glancing at Yeosang who gave you a quizzical look. You looked away and continued.

“After my father hit me and told me what he and the other villagers had done. They’d killed Hongjoong.” You could see Yeosang visibly tense next to you but pressed on, deciding not to address it right then.

“So Hongjoong returned to the cabin and I helped him clean up and we… got intimate,” you said, cheeks burning under the gaze of six priests hanging onto your every word. “The next morning, I thought I had dreamt the whole thing but then Hongjoong appeared and I knew it wasn’t a dream. I thought that maybe the universe had sent him back because it wasn’t his time. I thought he’d been given a second chance but then he started to… change.”

“How did he change?” Yunho inquired. You looked up at him. “He started to get… ravenous? I’m not entirely sure how to explain it. But it was like… he couldn’t get enough. Like his appetite couldn’t be satiated.”

“By appetite you mean his sexual desire?” San asked, tilting his head. You refused to meet his gaze, instead staring intently at the table, studying the pattern of the wood grain and nodded. “Yes,” you replied. “He soon started to lose control of himself. Almost like he was slipping and the demon was starting to take over. He would physically change, too. His eyes, his voice, the burn marks on his body.”

You hesitated, taking a deep breath. “One morning, I woke up to find the cabin empty so I went looking for him and found him by the stream in the forest. When I approached, he told me to stay away and when I didn’t listen, he lashed out at me. He ran and I tried to follow but I lost him in the forest so I went back to the cabin and waited for him to return.”

“And did he?” Wooyoung asked. You nodded wordlessly. “But he lost control again and I think this is when the demon finally took hold. He tried to attack me and so I ran back to the village where I ran into Yeosang. Since then, Hongjoong has been terrorizing the village and killing not only the livestock but also the daughters of the men who killed him. I’m the only one left now.”

You concluded your story to silence. Yeosang took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You glanced up, resisting the urge to burst into tears. He gave you a comforting smile as the rest of your guests processed your story. “Thank you for telling us your story,” Yunho finally said. 

“Can I ask you something?” San inquired, drawing yours and Yeosang’s attention. “Of course,” Yeosang answered. “If Hongjoong was your lover,” he started, addressing you before looking up at Yeosang. “How did she end up marrying you?”

“Before Hongjoong’s death,” Yeosang started to explain. “Her father had come to me, asking me if I would consider marrying Y/N. His fear with Hongjoong being blamed for the village’s misfortunes, his relationship with Y/N might paint her as a target,” he continued.

“So he wanted to distance his family from that and save their reputation.” You felt your stomach churn as Yeosang spoke. “If it had been anyone else, I would have said no,” Yeosang continued, making you look up at him.

“I said yes because while I wanted to protect Y/N, another part of me had already grown quite fond of her and I would be lying if I said that part of me didn’t already love her.”

Your breath caught in your throat, heart skipping a beat as you stared at your husband. His eyes met yours and you suddenly understood, words from your wedding night replaying in your head. ‘I’ve always been yours.’

You tore your gaze from his, staring down at your uneaten stew.

“I see,” San answered softly. “So after Hongjoong’s death and Y/N came back,” Wooyoung started only for Yeosang to finish. “When Hongjoong was taken from the church and dragged to the tree, Y/N learned what happened and she ran away. I suppose her father decided that the agreement between us was no longer necessary since she was no longer in the village. No one expected her to come back. When she did, her father tried to reinstate the agreement but Y/N was in no state to marry anyone. She was catatonic, unresponsive —”

“An empty shell,” you interrupted, your voice soft. You could feel six pairs of eyes turn towards you. “What?” you heard Wooyoung ask. “An empty shell,” you repeated, a little louder. “When I came back, I honestly don’t even remember much. I remember running through the woods and I barely remember running into Yeosang and then after that, everything was just a blur. I don’t even know how long I was like that.”

“Sixteen days,” Yeosang answered. He looked up as you turned to look at him. “You were catatonic for thirteen and got sick. You were at death’s door for three days. Sixteen days total.”

A silence fell over the table as you and your husband looked at one another, a moment of understanding passing over you. “And then?” San asked, breaking the silence. Yeosang reluctantly tore his gaze away from you.

“And then, she woke up. She came back from the brink of death. Her mother nursed her back to health and when she was able to stay awake, Jonas and I came to get her account of the events that happened before she came back. She told us everything. Jonas left no stone unturned and you told him everything,” he said, addressing you at the end.

“Truth be told, I don’t think I could have told him everything if you weren’t there,” you admitted. “Jonas terrifies me.”

A look of confusion crossed Yeosang’s face but before he could ask you why, Yunho spoke up. “Now that we know all of this, we need to devise a plan of attack,” he said, earning a few murmurs of agreement from around the table. Yeosang glanced at your bowl and gestured for you to eat before he turned to join the conversation.

“I have to agree with you,” Jongho answered from beside Yunho. “The longer we sit around and do nothing, the more danger the village is in. “The more danger Y/N is in,” San added, looking at you as you finally took a bite of the stew which had since grown cold.

“So what do you suggest?” Wooyoung asked, looking at Yunho. “We could always try to exorcize the demon from Hongjoong?” Yunho suggested, turning to look at Yeosang who contemplated. Jongo spoke up again. “If Hongjoong’s soul is still intact, that could work but in exorcizing the demon, he could just be killed.”

“He’s already dead,” Wooyoung reminded him. “We don’t even know if his soul is in his body.”

You set your spoon down, a little harder than you meant to, drawing the attention of everyone in the room as you turned to look at the red-haired man. “His soul is in his body,” you said simply. Wooyoung and San exchanged worried looks before San turned to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“We know you want to believe that, Y/N, but the chances are —”

“His soul is in his body,” you snapped. “Y/N,” Wooyoung tried to intervene but Yeosang held his hand up. “Let her speak,” he interjected.

“When he died, Hongjoong told me how he fell into darkness and felt like he was tortured for thousands of years,” you said, looking around at each one of the priests. “He also spoke of fire, brimstone, and burning. I think that maybe, his soul was sent to hell and when it came back it wasn’t because of his own determination. It was because something came back with him,” you explained. 

“Something not human.”

Several of the priests exchanged worried looks. “You think a demon latched onto his soul and came back with him and is now inhabiting his body?” Yeosang asked, making sure to clarify what you just shared. You nodded slowly. “And I think, if you try to exorcize the demon, it will pull his own soul out as well.”

Yeosang let out a sigh. “That could be possible,” Yunho said softly, looking at Wooyoung who seemed to be deep in thought. “Then an exorcism is off the table,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “There’s no way around that. If a demon is bound to his soul, there’s no way to save him.”

San elbowed Wooyoung before glancing at you. Giving him a warm smile you spoke softly. “It’s alright,” you said. “I know what needs to be done and I know that it’s not the same Hongjoong. There is no going back. Not that I would want to, anyway.”

You glanced at Yeosang whose expressions softened and he took your hand gently. “So then we must banish the demon,” Jongho stated. It wasn’t a question. The rest of the table nodded in agreement before Yunho turned his head to look at Mingi.

“What can you tell us about witches and their connections to demons?”

Mingi looked surprised at being addressed directly and took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“Witches are thought to be in league with Satan,” he started, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table before him, his fingers interlaced as he stared at his hands. “But that’s only partially true. Just as there is light and dark in the world, this dichotomy exists in humans and by extension, witches.”

Mingi cleared his throat before continuing.

“There are light witches, those who use their magic and powers for the good of humanity. They tend to draw their powers from nature and the world around them. It is a good and pure form of magic. They use it for growing and healing. Dark witches, on the other hand, draw their power from a darker source, usually from making a deal with a demon or by blood sacrifices. The most common form of sacrifice is that of a child or infant,” he continued.

“But animal sacrifices can also be made in lieu of a human.”

Your eyes widened as he spoke, recalling all the livestock that had been killed prior to Hongjoong’s death and the killings that continued. Whether or not the new ones were the work of the true witch or Hongjoong, you couldn’t be sure.

“The witch will offer a blood sacrifice to a summoned demon in exchange for powers far beyond the natural world. These powers can cause a wide variety of misfortunes should the witch place a curse. Crops can go bad, people can become sick, and demons can be summoned,” Mingi added.

“So Hongjoong was not one of these?” San asked, turning to look at Yeosang who nodded. “He was not,” you answered. “He used his magic for healing and growing. He had gardens that he used his magic on. Or whenever he found a hurt animal, he would heal it. He never consorted with the devil or killed anything unless it was for food.”

San nodded, accepting your answer before returning his attention to Mingi. “So then why would Hongjoong come back as a demon?” he asked. Mingi inhaled slowly before answering. “There are a number of reasons. Perhaps the villagers turning on him was part of the dark witch’s plan. Perhaps a curse was placed to make the villagers do so. If Hongjoong had a curse on him, it would explain why he not only came back but why his soul went to hell and a demon latched onto him. Perhaps…” Mingi trailed off, his focus shifting to you.

The others turned to follow his gaze as your eyes widened in realization.

“It was Hongjoong…” you whispered. Yeosang placed a hand on your back, leaning in closer. “Love? What is it?”

You looked back at Mingi. “It was Hongjoong!” you repeated louder. “Hongjoong was the human sacrifice!”

A look of realization drew over the faces of all six priests. “The witch used the animal sacrifices to create disturbances, turning the villagers against the one they perceived to be a threat to their lives,” Mingi explained sitting up. “The witch used the villagers’ hatred for Hongjoong against him, making them kill him for them to complete some kind of sacrificial ritual.”

San and Wooyoung exchanged looks as Yunho’s lips parted in shock. “And the ritual is now complete,” Jongho said softly as he looked at the table. “But what was the goal?” Yeosang asked, looking around. “What could the witch possibly gain by doing this?”

The wheels in your head were turning and you stood up abruptly, slamming your hands on the table and making a few of the priests jump. “The demon!” you all but shouted. “What if the demon is one the dark witch made a pact with?” Mingi’s eyes narrowed, brows knitting together until it clicked for him.

“The demon needed a body,” Mingi said quickly. “They made a pact. The witch would get their powers if they provided a human sacrifice in the form of a human body for them to inhabit! A binding ritual, of course!” Mingi hissed, hitting the table with his fist.

“A binding ritual?” Yeosang asked. “Is there any way to undo that?”

Mingi shook his head. “Not to my knowledge.”

Yunho also shook his head. “No,” he answered. “The only thing that can be done is to banish the demon.” Yeosang nodded, taking your hand without giving you a glance. “And how do we do that?” he asked.

“With a demon who has inhabited the body of a dead person, there’s only one way,” Yunho explained. “Bind the body of the possessed with a ritual, perform a banishing ritual and —” he stopped, turning his gaze towards you. “And removing the head of the possessed.”

You didn’t need to look up to know that all eyes were on you. “But before we get to any of that,” Wooyoung interjected. “We must first draw him out.” San nodded as his partner spoke. “And exactly how do we do that?” Yeosang asked, looking from San to Wooyoung.

“By offering the demon the thing it wants most,” Yunho answered.

You looked up, noticing the eyes that fell on you once more. 

“No.”

You turned to look at Yeosang who was shaking his head. “Absolutely not. We’re not using my wife as bait.”

You turned your body to face him and reached out to place your hand on his cheek, turning his head to face you. “We don’t have a choice,” you told him. “If we’re going to save the people of this village, we have to do this.”

“No!” Yeosang shouted, pushing his chair back and getting up from the table. You threw an apologetic glance at the table and got up, following Yeosang to the kitchen, shutting the door behind you. He stood by the hearth, one hand covering his mouth as he stared at the fire.

You approached him slowly, taking note of the way he tried to hide his face from you. “Yeosang,” you said softly, placing a hand on his arm. He shook his head, turning away from you. “No,” he said, his voice breaking. You grabbed his arm and turned him to face you.

His eyes were shining with unshed tears. “I’m not putting you in danger,” he finally said, shaking his head. You took his face in your hands and held him still. “If we don’t do something, the village will be in danger. Hongjoong will not stop until he’s killed or has killed me.”

Yeosang pulled you closer. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered. You pulled him into a tight embrace. “I know it’s terrifying,” you said in a soft, soothing voice. “But with six priests protecting me, I think I’ll be alright.”

Yeosang tightened his hold, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice muffled. “You won’t,” you replied, stroking his hair gently. “We’re going to overcome this,” you continued. “Hongjoong must be stopped and if this is the only way to do so, I will gladly help.”

Yeosang pulled back, cheeks wet to look at you through watery eyes. “And what if you do die?” he asked. “What then?” You held his face carefully as you looked into his eyes. “Then it will have been to protect the people of this village and you. I can die knowing I tried my best.”

Yeosang’s hands moved, taking your wrists and pulling your hands away from his face. “I couldn’t live with myself if you died,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t want to live without you.” You pulled a hand free and pressed your fingers to his lips, shushing him gently. “We don’t even know for certain if I’ll die. Let’s talk with the others and I’m sure we can come up with a plan that keeps me safe while also drawing Hongjoong out, okay?”

Yeosang fell silent, cupping the side of your face and rubbing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. “Okay,” he finally said hoarsely. You pulled him into a kiss, taking care to wipe away his tears. “I’m going to be fine, darling,” you said softly.

Yeosang opened his mouth to answer when a distant scream rang out. His expression shifted in an instant and he turned his head in the direction of the scream. “What was that?” you asked softly. Yeosang took your hand and led you back to the living room where the priests had gotten up from the table and walked over to the door.

Mingi opened it and stood in the doorway, peering out into the darkness. Another scream rang out followed by a chorus of yells. “A house is on fire!” he announced, taking off into the night. San, Wooyoung, and Jongho followed as Yunho got up from the table and walked over quickly. 

You followed your husband to the door and as you stared into the distance you realized the house the third from the forest was ablaze. Your heart sank as your stomach churned. “That’s my parents’ house!” you gasped, trying to run out into the night but Yeosang grabbed you and pulled you back into the house. “No!” he said as he shut the door.

You tried to fight against him but he held you still. “Hongjoong could be out there. Stay inside this house and do not come out for anything. I will go.” You tried to protest but he held your face, staring into your eyes. “Please, Y/N. Please just stay here.”

You stared at him for a moment and decided he was right, conceding. “Fine,” you answered. “But please hurry! Make sure my parents are alright!” Yeosang pressed a kiss to your lips before he rushed the door, throwing it open and running outside. You moved to the door, peering out before shutting it and stepping back towards the table.

Footsteps pounded against the ground as Yeosang followed the others towards your parents house. The rest of the village had gathered, some shouting for help while others helped hold people back at a safe distance. Yeosang’s eyes scanned the crowd and relief washed over him as he saw your parents in the crowd, staring up at the house that was now engulfed in flames.

Yeosang squeezed through the crowd as he made his way over. Your mother’s tear stained face turned as he approached and she could only cry softly while your father stared up at the blaze with a dumbfounded look. “Are you alright?” Yeosang asked softly.

Your mother nodded. “We made it out okay,” she admitted. “But…” she looked up at the inferno. “We’ve lost everything.” Yeosang felt his stomach churn. He had an extra room in his house, he could offer it to your parents but he would of course wish to speak to you before he made any decisions as it was as much your house as it was his.

Before he could say anything, one of the neighbors nearby moved, wrapping an arm around your mother’s shoulders. “You are more than welcome to stay with us for the time being. We have plenty of room.” Your mother thanked her profusely and Yeosang sent the woman a knowing look, thanking her silently.

Yeosang turned and walked back to where the priests were huddled, Yunho and Mingi breathing heavily while Wooyoung and San were whispering to one another and Jongho studied the burning house. Yeosang noticed the smears of soot on both Yunho and Mingi, asking what happened.

“The burst into the house,” Jongho answered without taking his eyes off the fire, the dancing flames reflecting in his eyes. “They were able to get your in-law’s out along with some of their important artifacts…” Yunho gave Jongho a peculiar look.

“Artifacts,” he muttered as he stood up straight, waving Mingi away as the latter attempted to brush soot off his clothes, and moved towards Yeosang. “The fire started upstairs,” Yunho said in a low voice. “When we went in, it was just the entire upstairs that was in flames.”

Yeosang looked up at him, eyes wide. “Upstairs?” he whispered. “Seems odd, does it not?” Yunho asked, looking from the fire to Yeosang. “For a fire to start upstairs and move down?” Yeosang nodded, turning to look at the house. “Very odd indeed.”

After the crowd dispersed with only a few remaining behind to make sure the fire didn’t spread, Yeosang walked with the priests back towards the church, bidding them goodnight before returning to his own home.

He turned the knob, exhaustion taking over his mind as he opened the door. He knew you were waiting for news and he would give it to you without hesitation. As he entered, he saw you sitting at the table. You looked up as he entered.

“Are my parents okay?” you asked as Yeosang closed the door behind Yunho and turned to you. “Yes,” he answered. “They’re staying with a neighbor. They’re fine, just in shock.” Yeosang walked over to the table and took a seat, sighing as you sat down next to him.

“What happened?” you inquired. Yeosang raised his head and met your gaze. “I think the demon set fire to your house in an attempt to lure you out,” he said. You stared at him, a look of confusion etched onto your face. “But I don’t live there anymore,” you replied.

Yeosang nodded and sighed again, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think he knows that,” he explained. “Hongjoong must have thought you were still at your parents’ house which means he doesn’t know you’ve left or that we’re married.” You fell silent, looking down at the table before back up at your husband.

“You could have easily been in that house,” he continued. “And the moment you left the house to escape the fire, he would have snatched you.” You swallowed thickly. “You cannot let your guard down until he has been dealt with.” You nodded, taking Yeosang’s hand.

“So we will deal with him. Let me join this plan. Yeosang pulled his hand from yours, getting up from his seat, and started to walk towards the kitchen. You got up, following him. “Y/N, no,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

You followed him as he entered the bedroom and sat down on the bed to remove his boots. “It will be dangerous for me until he’s gone,” you answered. “Until he is dead, I will always be in danger. What if he learns that I am here? How long until he tries to lure me out of the house and kill me?”

Yeosang looked up at you, exhaustion present on his face. You placed your hand on the back of his head and pulled him closer, resting his head against your stomach. His arms encircled you, holding your close. “What if I’m pregnant?” you whispered.

Yeosang opened his eyes, leaning back to look up at you.

“You think he would spare me? Never. We’re not just doing this for the village,” you continued. “We’re doing this for us. For our future.” You placed a hand on Yeosang’s chest, pushing him back against the mattress as you climbed onto the bed and over him.

“I want a future with you, Yeosang,” you continued, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. He tried to follow as you pulled back. “I want to have your children,” you added, kissing him again. “But we have to safeguard our future and the only way to do that is to kill the demon.”

Yeosang placed a hand on the back of your neck and pulled you into a much more passionate kiss before rolling you onto your back and pinning you underneath him. “If we do this,” he said once he broke apart from you. “Then you have to promise me that no matter what, you will listen to and do as I say.” You reached up to stroke his cheek, thumb tracing over the red mark near his eye.

“Of course,” you replied. “Promise me, Y/N,” Yeosang said, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, watching as you pressed a delicate kiss to the pad of his thumb. “I promise,” you whispered, looking up at him with expectant eyes. “Say all of it,” Yeosang ordered, his hand sliding down your neck to your chest, pausing before sliding down past your navel and pulling your skirt up slowly.

You stared up at him with wide eyes as his hand ducked under your skirt to find your already slick center. “Say that you will do everything I say.” You let out a small gasp as his fingers started to work your clit slowly.

“I—I will! I will listen to you and do whatever you say,” you replied, thighs spreading as Yeosang’s fingers dipped lower, finding your hole and gliding into you, slowly pumping in and out of you. “I promise!” you concluded, back arching as he curled his fingers.

Yeosang wasted no time, peeling your clothes off one layer at a time until he had you bare under him, removing his own shirt and pants before moving between your hips. He was in no mood for lengthy foreplay as he guided the head of his cock to your aching hole and pushed into you, slowly, until he bottomed out with a deep groan.

Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist as he began to rock into you, the tip of his cock hitting deep inside you, your nails scratching at his back as moans slipped past your lips, mixing with Yeosang’s name like a mantra.

“Yeosang, I—” you started but he pressed his fingers against your lips. “It’s okay,” he said breathily. “I know. Just let go for me, sweetheart. Give into it.” Your eyelids fluttered shut as you allowed the feeling of your physical connection take over, a warm sensation building inside you. You felt a prickling in the corners of your eyes as tears threatened to spill.

You opened your eyes, blinking away the tears to look up at your husband only to find him already looking at you, eyes searching your face. He slowed his motions, reaching up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped.

“What is it?” he asked softly. “Have I hurt you?”

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down, burying your face in his neck. “I’m fine,” you sobbed softly. “Please, don’t stop.” Yeosang hesitated, stilling inside you as you cried softly.

Instead of resuming, he held you, arms secure as he let you cry. “It’s all right, love,” he whispered. “Let it out.” Your cries grew harder, muffled by his shoulder as he rolled you both onto your sides and stroked up and down your spine soothingly.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered into your ear. “What’s bothering you?”

You shook your head, pulling back and trying to wipe your tears away but he beat you to it, taking your face in his hands. He carefully wiped your cheeks and under your eyes before leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I’m alright,” you said softly, sniffling. “I was just overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed?” Yeosang asked, letting out a soft chuckle when you nodded. “I wasn’t expecting to open my eyes and find you looking at me like that,” you replied. Yeosang stroked your cheek gently, a smile on his face. “Like what?” he asked.

“With so much… Love,” you answered. Yeosang let out another low chuckle before leaning in to kiss you again. “Well, why wouldn’t I look at you like that?” he asked, rolling the two of you over so you were on your back against the mattress.

You opened your mouth to respond but only a moan came out as you felt him push back into you, setting a slow pace that gradually picked up again until he was thrusting into you just as he was before your emotional outburst, leaving you breathless.

“M-more,” you mumbled. “More?” Yeosang asked, breathlessly as he stared down at you. You nodded quickly. “I can take it. H-harder.” Yeosang let out a sound that you could have mistaken for a laugh but all the same, he obliged you, thrusting into you hard but at the same pace as before.

Your walls contracted around him as your moans raised in pitch, bordering on cries of pleasure. Yeosang slid an arm under you, cradling your head as he rested his forehead against yours. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep going,” he admitted.

You moved quickly, pushing him as you rolled him over, settling on top of him without his cock slipping out of you. You took over, keeping the same pace as his hands moved to your thighs. You resisted the urge to giggle as Yeosang let out a string of curses as your hips rose and fell, his cock sinking into your cunt repeatedly.

“That’s not very becoming of a priest,” you joked, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. You felt one of his hands move up your back before grabbing the back of your neck. “I don’t fucking care,” he hissed, pulling you in for a passionate but sloppy kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth and muffling his own moans of pleasure.

You broke the kiss after a moment, needing to breathe, and rested your forehead against his as he grabbed your hips, thrusting up to meet you, matching your pace. The sudden intense movement had you gasping, fingers curling into the sheets under your husband as your climax drew closer and closer, rapidly

You felt him tremble under you, signaling he was close to his own climax. Your walls fluttered around him as he let out another slew of curses, ranging from “oh fuck” and “shit.” Praises slipped out of his mouth between moans of your name. Your head rested against his shoulder, letting him take over and guide your hips down to meet his as he thrust into you passionately. 

“Oh fuck, I love you,” he gasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of his skin slapping against yours, the bed creaking under your bodies. His confession spurred you on, pushing you over the edge of passion and you came unexpectedly with a whine, fingers curling into his hair as his hips continued to move, driving his cock repeatedly into you as he chased his own high. “I love you, too,” you panted, pulling back to look down at him, meeting his gaze. “So, so much,” you added.

Yeosang’s eyes fluttered shut as his orgasm rolled over him, his hot cum filling you as his hips thrusted a few more times, making sure he emptied everything into you. “I love you so much, Yeosang,” you repeated, pulling him into a messy kiss, your tongues dancing together. He pulled back slightly, caressing your cheek. “I love you more than all the stars in the sky,” he whispered. You felt a small sob build in your chest but held it back.

“I have never loved anyone as much as I love you,” Yeosang continued. “I will never love anyone as much as I love you. You’re my entire world.” You leaned down into a hug, burying your face in his shoulder and let out a soft cry. 

Yeosang rolled onto his side, lowering you to the mattress. “Hey,” he said softly. “Don’t cry,” Yeosang whispered, gently lifting your head. “They’re not tears of sadness,” you admitted as he wiped said tears from your cheeks. “They’re tears of—”

“Joy?” Yeosang asked, his expression softening as he caressed your cheek. You nodded, leaning into his touch. “When you saved my life,” you started. “And stayed with me while I was on the brink of death, I realized something,” you said softly.

“What?” Yeosang asked, eyes studying your face. You looked up to meet his gaze. “That I’ve loved you for some time,” you replied. “I just didn’t realize it because I was so deeply connected to Hongjoong but there was always love in my heart for you.”

Yeosang couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “It just took me almost dying to see it,” you added with a dry laugh. “I have a confession of my own to make,” Yeosang said softly, drawing your attention as he continued to stroke your cheek.

“I’ve loved you since before everything that has happened. Since…” he trailed off, hesitating under your curious gaze. He swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing. “Since before Hongjoong’s death.”

A silence fell over the two of you and Yeosang feared he might have crossed a line but when you reached up to run your fingers through his hair, a smile crept onto your face. “I guess that makes two of us, then,” you whispered.

The following morning, you woke up early, getting dressed in silence as Yeosang lay tangled in the sheets. You exited the bedroom, shutting the door behind you and started to get started, making breakfast. After last night, you didn’t feel like going out to gather eggs or cook anything that would take too much time. You would rather just make something simple and get started on the day.

Today, Yeosang and the visiting priests were going to inform the village of the truth about the demon and Hongjoong’s return. The entire village was already aware of the demon’s existence but none knew that it was Hongjoong.

You heard the door behind you open and soft footsteps make their way towards you until you felt arms enveloping you as Yeosang wrapped you in his warm embrace. “I thought we might sleep in,” he murmured in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep,” you admitted as you stirred the contents of the pot. “So I thought I would just get up and start the day.” Yeosang hummed as he slowly started to sway, making you sway as well.

You placed a hand over your stomach as a nauseous feeling bubbled up. Yeosang noticed, placing his hand over yours. “Have you checked the seeds?” he asked softly to which you shook your head. “I’ve had more pressing matters,” you replied.

Yeosang pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “I’ll go check,” he whispered, pulling away and taking with him the warmth. You heard him move through the house, the front door opening and closing. In truth, you hadn’t wanted to check the seeds, for fear that one of them was growing which would mean you were pregnant and that was something you didn’t need at the moment.

You had enough going on.

Yeosang returned a couple moments later, shutting the door slowly and walked into the kitchen, stopping to lean against the doorframe, a look of shock on his face. You looked back at him, your expression morphing as you feared the worst. “What is it?” you asked.

Yeosang looked up to meet your gaze. The look in his eyes was all you needed to see for your heart to sink into your stomach. “No,” you whispered. Yeosang looked down and it was then you realized he had something in his hand. “What is that?” you whispered. He stood up straight and walked over, something clenched in his fist.

He looked up at you, a look somewhere between an apology and concern etched onto his face. “I know this is the last thing you need, but…” he said as he held out his closed fist. Your eyes traveled down to his hand as he opened it. Lying in his palm was a small seed with a tiny stalk sprouting from it.

Your mother’s voice popped into your head. ‘If the barley seeds sprout then it will be a boy. If the wheat seeds sprout, then you’ll be having a girl.’ You shook your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you looked up to meet Yeosang’s gaze.

“No. We… this can’t be happening…” you said, your breathing bordering on hyperventilating. Yeosang set the sprout onto the table and pulled you into a hug. “It’s going to be alright,” he said softly. “We’ll figure this out. I know the timing is wrong,” he continued. “But everything happens for a reason.”

You nodded slowly, letting out a sigh. “Look at me,” Yeosang said softly, tilting your head up. “We’ll face the things in front of us and once we’ve dealt with it, how about we leave? Go somewhere new and start over?” he asked. A small smile crept over your face.

“Really?” you asked quietly. Yeosang nodded, pressing a short kiss to your lips. “Of course,” he replied. “We can go anywhere you want. Another village, a larger town, the mountains, the sea,” he said, listing off different locations. “Wherever you want, my love, that’s where we’ll go. Start a new life for us and for them,” he added, moving a hand to your belly.

“For us.”

After finishing breakfast and getting dressed, you left the house with Yeosang, heading for the church to attend the meeting. Upon entering, you followed Yeosang to the front where the rest of the priests were already sitting, talking amongst themselves. As you approached, San and Wooyoung gave you warm smiles and greeted you.

Yeosang guided you to sit next to Yunho, leaving one seat for him. Instead of taking it right away, he excused himself to go find Jonas. “You look different this morning,” Yunho said softly. You turned to look at him and noticed the others looking at you.

“Do I?” you asked to which not only Yunho nodded, but so did Wooyoung, San, and Mingi. “Much different,” San noted as he exchanged a glance with Wooyoung. You hesitated to answer, wondering if they could tell the difference was due to you finding out about the child you were carrying.

Before you could answer, Yeosang returned with Jonas. Your husband gave you a smile as he followed the elder minister to the doors to open them and allow the villagers in. While Yeosang was preoccupied, Yunho glanced at the others before turning to you and lowering his voice. “It’s a good type of different,” he whispered before leaning up and giving you a smile before turning to speak to San next to him as the rows behind you filled with villagers.

Yeosang returned, taking his seat beside you and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You pulled your hand from his, locking your arm with his instead, giving you a sense of stability as you leaned into his side. Yeosang made no attempt to move for sake of propriety. He did not care what the others thought. All that mattered to him was your happiness and safety.

The villagers could think what they liked. You were his wife.

As the villagers took their seats, you looked around, noticing your parents a few rows back and sent them a smile, one they returned. Despite everything that had happened to them, you were glad they were still alive and safe.

The doors at the front of the church closed and Jonas walked down the middle aisle towards the stage, nodding at the members as he passed before he finally reached the pulpit and turned to face the congregation.

“I’ve called this meeting because Pastor Kang has requested to be able to speak with all of you on an urgent matter related to the demon plaguing our village,” he started. He turned his gaze to Yeosang and nodded, stepping down. Your husband stood up and you wrapped your arms around yourself as he walked up, stepping up to the pulpit.

“As you all already know, a demon has been terrorizing the village since the death of Hongjoong,” he started, ignoring the hisses at the mention of the name. “You might also be aware that I sent word to neighboring villages, asking for the help from their clergy and as a result, five priests have come to help conduct an investigation as well as potentially help banish the demon.” 

Yeosang stopped, looking towards the front row as whispers rang out behind you. “We have come to learn after carefully investigating that the demon who haunts our village is Hongjoong, returned from the grave.”

There were several gasps and a new rush of whispers before Yeosang called for attention. “To explain further, I invite Pastor Jeong up here. He has experience with banishing demons and investigating their origins,” Yeosang said, gesturing at Yunho seat beside you. Yunho got up as Yeosang stepped down and returned to his seat.

Yunho took his place and murmured a greeting before starting his explanation.

“When Hongjoong was killed, his soul was sent to Hell,” he started. “Because he was a witch!” someone said and Yunho narrowed his eyes at the person who spoke. “No,” Yunho replied. “Not because he was a witch,” he continued. “But because the real witch made a deal with a demon in exchange for power.”

The congregation fell silent as Yunho’s words hung in the air. “I do not presume to know everything there was to know about Hongjoong, only what I’ve been told by someone who knew him very, very well,” he added, eyes glancing at you and giving you a warm smile.

“Nor do I pretend to know anything about witches or witchcraft as that is not my area of expertise and I will let Pastor Song speak on that in due time,” he continued. “What I know is that the demon the witch made a deal with was offered Hongjoong as a sacrifice and it took that. When Hongjoong was killed, the pact forced his soul to Hell where the demon latched onto him and came back to inhabit his body. This was the demon’s goal. It wanted a human body to inhabit so it could walk this Earth.”

You felt a chill run up your spine and shivered. Yeosang immediately wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “The only reason Hongjoong’s soul was allowed to even return in the first place is because of something known as a witch’s box. Again this is not my area of knowledge and I will let Mingi explain when it is his turn to speak, but what I do know is that by creating one of these boxes, it connects a witch’s soul to the earth so if they were to die by accident, they could come back. It is a means to cheat death, so to speak.”

“The demon took advantage of this, which was probably communicated by the real culprit who summoned the demon,” Yunho pressed on. “We believe that there is another witch, the one responsible for the misfortunes that have befallen your village. This witch made a deal with a demon in exchange for more power and offered Hongjoong’s soul and body in exchange of their own, since they likely knew Hongjoong was also a witch.” 

“Who is the other witch?” a voice called out. “We do not know,” Yunho answered. “We don’t have that information yet.” This answer caused an uproar of discourse from the congregation. “How can you not know?!” one person shouted. Yunho looked overwhelmed by the sudden chorus of questions being hurled at him.

Yeosang stood up and turned to the crowd. “Dealing with the demon is much more important than dealing with the witch,” he said earnestly. “In time, we will uncover the true identity of this witch and see that they are brought to justice for their actions,” Yeosang said calmly.

“Who’s the witch!?”

“It could be any one of us!”

“It’s Y/N!”

Your eyes widened and you looked up at Yeosang in a panic as a look of pure anger crossed over his face. Before he could say anything, Jongho stood up, crossing to the pulpit, and motioned for Yunho to step down before stepping up.

“Pointing blame without any evidence to back up your claim will not only not help, but it will paint you as suspicious,” he sat calmly and clearly in a voice you had not expected to come from him. “Y/N is being actively pursued by the demon as it wants to kill her. She cannot possibly be the other witch. One more outburst of the sort and I will start taking names for a list of suspects.”

He then stepped down and returned to his seat as Yunho stepped up once more. Yeosang turned his gaze to Jongho and the two shared a look of understanding before he sat back down beside you, taking your arm in his as Yunho continued.

“As I was saying,” he started. “And as Pastor Kang has stated, we must deal with the demon first. This concludes what I know and I will now pass the torch, so to speak, to Pastor Song.” Yunho stepped down and walked back to his seat between you and San as Mingi got up and walked to the pulpit.

You watched as he paused briefly, looking at Jonas sitting against the back wall. He tilted his head as if he was studying the elder minister for a moment before he finally turned and stepped up into the pulpit to speak.

“Witchcraft,” he started. “Is not at all what you think it is. There are many types of magic in this world. The witchcraft of this witch that has been plaguing your village is what is known as dark magic. It is used to harm nature and people. It relies on blood sacrifices to work. Most dark witches use these sacrifices to make deals with demons in exchange for more power.”

“Light witches on the other hand,” he continued. “Rely on the natural world to create magic. They use their powers to heal and grow things. Which means,” Mingi said, pausing to look around at the villagers. “You killed the wrong witch.”

There was a silence that fell over the congregations before Mingi continued to speak.

“Hongjoong was a light witch, using his magic for good and the dark witch took advantage of this to use him as a bargaining chip to gain powers from the demonic entity that now inhabits Hongjoong’s body,” he added, taking his spectacles off. 

“This dark witch used smaller animal sacrifices to create curses and disturbances within the village, turning you all against Hongjoong so you might eventually rise up and make him pay for the crimes you perceived as his. By killing Hongjoong, you completed the human sacrifice necessary for the dark witch’s deal to work. Giving the demon what it wanted and by extension, giving the witch what they wanted.”

He fell silent as he turned to look back at Jonas. You couldn’t understand the look between them but the way Jonas looked at Mingi made you feel uncomfortable, almost as if he was… mad at him for what he was saying. Jonas looked past Mingi, meeting your gaze and for the briefest moment, you could have sworn his eyes changed.

You let out the smallest of gasps, barely even audible but Yeosang heard you, as did Yunho. Your husband turned, leaning over to look at your face. “Love?” he whispered. “Are you alright?” You nodded slowly, eyes wide as you continued to hold Jonas’ gaze, afraid if you looked away, you would forget everything.

Jonas was the first to look away as Mingi stepped back, apparently having been done speaking. Next up was San and Wooyoung. Mingi returned to his seat beside Jongho and you kept your eyes on Jonas as the priest and demon hunter spoke, laying out their plans to lure the demon in, using you as bait.

Your attention waned as you stared at the elder minister, waiting to see if his eyes changed again but they did not and he did not look your direction again for the rest of the meeting. As San and Wooyoung wrapped up their part, several members of the congregation started asking questions. Yeosang stood up, joining San, Wooyoung, and Mingi on stage with Jongo with Yunho staying glued to your side. While they answered questions, Yunho leaned over.

“You saw something, didn’t you?” he asked softly so no one would hear. You nodded, keeping your eyes on Yeosang. “I think we saw the same thing,” Yunho continued. “We’ll talk about it after the meeting.”

As the questions wrapped up, the meeting ended and Jonas addressed the congregation one last time before dismissing them. The doors to outside opened as the priests returned to the bench you currently sat on, Yunho standing up. You stared at Jonas whose gaze swept over the crowd before finally meeting yours.

The moment your eyes locked, a wave of fear washed over you. Having been standing, waiting to exit the church, your knees went weak, legs giving out on you and you fell back onto your seat, letting out a gasp.

“Y/N?” Yeosang asked, worry laced in his voice. “What is it, love?” he asked. Your vision went unfocused as you tried to gain control of your breathing which had become rapid and unsteady. “Y/N?” Yunho asked, kneeling down before you. You felt one of his large hands take yours. “What is it?” he asked. “What do you see?”

“See?” Yeosang asked, his voice sounding far away. Within the blackness of your vision, you could see images of a hidden altar, line with animal bones and skulls. Blood stained the wood and a ceremonial knife sat nearby. Behind the altar, a hooded figure stood before a ring of candles on the floor, blood smeared in the middle into a crude sigil you’ve never seen before.

As the vision came, it went and your own vision returned, Yunho’s face coming back into view. “What did you see?” he asked softly. You looked up, searching for Jonas as he disappeared into the back hallway, the door shutting softly behind him. “I—” you hesitated. “I don’t…”

“Are you alright, love?” Yeosang asked, kneeling beside Yunho to look up at you, his face full of concern as he reached up to feel your cheek. “Air,” you gasped. “I need air.”

Yeosang stood up quickly, as did Yunho and they led you through the crowded church as more people spoke, trying to make sense of the information given to them. Outside only a few members had managed to make it down the steps. As Yeosang led the way to the door, the sky darkened. He looked up as he started down the steps. His eyes widened. Outside the church, littering the ground and amassed into a pile were what looked to be hundreds of corpses of crows.

Stand atop them was—

“It’s Hongjoong!” one person announced, turning tail and heading back into the church as others started to follow. Yeosang stood firm, blocking you from sight as the other priests also joined the line in front of the church. Hongjoong’s appearance had changed slightly. His hair was a little longer now and a slightly different color. Lighter now.

The horns protruding from his forehead had grown longer, starting to curve back over his head almost like a goats. His eyes were the same black with fiery, mismatched irises. He smiled a wicked smile, showing off his sharp canines as he hopped down from the pile of dead birds.

“Holding a village meeting without the guest of honor?” he asked as he approached Yeosang, a hint of amusement in his voice. He gestured at the other priests. “And I see you’ve already invited the entertainment,” he added with a chuckle.

“I take it this is the demon?” Yunho asked, turning his head to glance at Yeosang who nodded. Hongjoong looked up at Yunho. “Oh you’re a big one,” he said as he sauntered over. “Might be a little hard to digest,” he joked. As he turned, his eyes met yours and froze, the smile on his face widening. “Ah, there she is,” he said.

The priests closed in around you, shielding you from Hongjoong, making him look at them peculiarly. “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” he said, chuckling. “Relax,” I’m not about to try and kill her in front of an audience,” he added with a snicker as he started to walk in front of Yeosang and peered around at you from the other side. “As fun as it would be.”

“I tried to visit you,” he said, chuckling. “But you weren’t home. I even tried to… smoke you out,” he added with a chuckle. You felt your blood run cold but anger bubbled up inside you. You tried to step forward but Yunho grabbed your arm, keeping you still.

“You almost killed my parents!” you shouted angrily. Hongjoong made a mock look of sympathy. “Awww,” he cooed. “How unfortunate. I meant to kill them.” You tried again to lurch forward, all love you had felt for Hongjoong evaporating in an instant. “No, Y/N,” San whispered from beside you. “That’s what he wants.”

“Why weren’t you at your parents’ house, Y/N?” Hongjoong asked, drawing your attention away from the demon hunter. “Because I don’t live there anymore,” you answered simply. “I was with Yeosang.” Hongjoong’s eyes studied you as his smile fell, being replaced with a look of curiosity. His eyes shifted to look at Yeosang before he glanced down and noticed something, clicking his tongue before he looked up to look at you.

“I see. You married him.” It wasn’t a question. It was more of an accusation. “After everything you promised me?” Hongjoong asked. You resisted the urge to scoff, knowing it would probably just anger him. “Aren’t you trying to kill me?” you asked, changing the subject.

Hongjoong sighed. “Now why would I want to kill you?” he asked. “Why would I want to kill my guiding star? My little… Starlight?” A chill ran up your spine. “Don’t call me that,” you snapped. Hongjoong laughed loudly. “Why not? Strike a nerve?” he asked. “Does it remind you of our love?”

“Love?” you asked. “You died, remember? The rope snapped your neck. The Hongjoong I knew and loved died that day.” The demon chuckled again. “The rope didn’t snap my neck, Stella,” Hongjoong said, using another nickname. “I said don’t call me that,” you snapped.

He ignored your words and continued. “He suffocated,” the demon said, its voice masking Hongjoong’s. “He hung from that branch, struggling and kicking for minutes as he was strangled. Until the breath left his lungs and the life left his weak, defenseless body!” Yeosang moved to block you from sight.

“Stop it,” he said. Hongjoong glared at Yeosang before he spoke again. “You want to know what his dying thought was?” he asked, raising his voice slightly. Yeosang glared back at the demon. “Don’t,” he warned. “It was of you,” Hongjoong said. “Of the night you gave yourself to him for the first time.” San started forward but Jongho put a hand on his chest, pushing him back in line.

“That was a night he thought about often,” the demon continued. “He loved you so much. And this is how you repay his love?” it asked, looking at Yeosang. “By marrying this… priest?” he spat. Hongjoong peered around Yeosang to meet your gaze, noticing the tears in your eyes. “I’ve thought about it, Y/N,” he started. “Long and hard and I’ve decided something.”

He glanced at the sky before speaking. “I don’t want to kill you,” he explained. “I’ve changed my mind. Instead, I want you.” A shiver ran through your body at his words. “For what?” Yunho asked, drawing the demon’s attention briefly. “For myself of course. I’d like to keep such a succulent little morsel like her nearby. So I can ravage her whenever I want —”

“You will not touch her!” Yeosang interjected as you pressed into his back, hiding from view. Hongjoong let out a sigh. “Tell you what, Y/N,” he said, raising his voice. “I will give you three days. Three days to come to me on your own,” he continued. You felt Yeosang’s hand grab yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

You peeked over Yeosang’s shoulder to watch as Hongjoong walked back to the pile of birds, climbing up to the peak and turning around to face the church. “And if in three days, you still haven’t come to me, I will kill every single man, woman, and child in this village,” he added, ignoring the gasps of the villagers.

“Starting with your new husband.”

Your knees threatened to give out as Hongjoong vanished in a cloud of black mist. The sound returned to the area and immediately the villagers started to protest. “Get her home,” Yunho said in a low tone to Yeosang and the priests attempted to hold the crowd back as they demanded to hand you over to Hongjoong. Yeosang wrapped an arm around you, guiding you away from the church and back to the house with San and Wooyoung in tow for additional protection.

For a brief moment, you considered doing it but Yeosang reminded you of the plan already set in motion and that the demon would most likely kill you anyway.

“I’m not leaving the fate of my wife and unborn child up to fate,” Yeosang said as Yunho finally filed into the house behind Mingi and Jongho. “You’re pregnant?” San asked, turning quickly to look at you. You glanced at your husband briefly before nodding. “We just found out this morning before the meeting,” you admitted.

“I knew there was something different about you,” Yunho said as he moved to sit beside you. 

“So,” San asked, turning to look at Yeosang. “What’s the plan? Do we proceed?”

“Yes, of course we proceed,” Jongho interrupted. “We don’t know what else the witch promised the demon in exchange for power and they could demand more sacrifices for more power, we can’t be too careful. The demon must be stopped.”

There was a murmur of agreement and you let out a sigh, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose, your vision swimming again. “Y/N?” Yeosang asked, moving to kneel before you. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked.

You felt the urge to vomit but managed to push it down. “I’m okay,” you whispered. “I’m just tired.” Yeosang cupped your cheek. “She should probably rest,” Yunho offered. “Lie down for a bit.” Yeosang nodded and stood up, holding out his hand. You took it, thanking him and saying a brief farewell to the others as Yeosang led you through the house to the bedroom.

He shut the door and walked you over to the bed, sitting you down and moving to untie your boots and remove them. “Here,” he said softly, pulling the covers back and helping you lie back before pulling the covers back over you.

“We’ll be right outside,” he said softly. “If you need anything, just call for me,” he added. “Don’t worry about dinner. I’ll make it tonight.”

Sleep came quickly for you the moment he left and shut the door behind him, leaving you to a restless slumber full of nightmares.

—————————————————————

The following morning you woke up, wrapped in Yeosang’s arms, the blankets pulled up around the both of you. Blinking sleepily, you started to settle back into a slumber, wondering when he had come to bed the night before when a sour feeling in your stomach started to bubble up. You knew the feeling all too well and were awake in an instant.

You scrambled to get up, waking Yeosang in the process as you hurried to get out of his hold and the blankets without falling. “What’s wrong?” Yeosang grumbled as you ran for the door, throwing it open and running to the front door. 

You managed to get it open, stepping out into the cool dawn, frost crunching under your bare feet as you ran to the outhouse, throwing open the door just in time to retch and violently throw up into the bowl.

Moments later, you heard footsteps and a sigh as you continued to spit up. After you felt you were finished, your stomach finally settling, you sat back, groaning as tears burned the corner of your eyes. You felt something warm drape around your shoulders.

“It’s alright,” you heard Yeosang whisper as he gently rubbed your arms. “Let’s get you back inside.” You allowed him to help you up and guide you back inside, ignoring the freezing cold ground under your feet. Once inside, Yeosang guided you back to the bedroom and sat you down, kneeling to wipe the bottom of your now wet feet before guiding you back to lay down.

Yeosang brought a cup to your mouth. “Here,” he said softly. “Rinse and spit. I know if you don’t you’ll wake up and complain about the taste,” he added as you obeyed, taking a sip of the water and swishing it around your mouth before spitting it back into the cup. “Well done,” he complimented as he stood up, grabbing the sheets.

“I’m fine,” you promised as he pulled the blankets up. “I know,” he replied. “It’s the baby,” he added as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll heat up something for you to eat,” he whispered before you heard his footsteps take him away and the bedroom door shut.

You must have fallen back asleep because soon, Yeosang was shaking you awake. “It’s time to get up, love,” he whispered. “You need to eat and get dressed. We have a long day ahead of us.” You whined in protest, making him chuckle as he leaned down and pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get this done. Then we can come back here and sleep all night and all day tomorrow,” he said. “Sound good?”

You opened your eyes slowly, meeting his gaze and hummed in approval. “I really won the prize by marrying you, didn’t I?” you asked, your voice sounding groggy. Yeosang let out a loud laugh, shaking his head before he cupped your cheek.

“I think it was I who won, my dear,” he replied. “Now come,” he said as he got up. “Get dressed and let’s eat.” You sat up slowly as he retreated, shutting the door behind him. Pulling back the covers, you shivered slightly as you pulled off your nightgown and started to dress.

Once your clothes were on, including your boots, you exited the bedroom to find Yeosang at the hearth, checking the contents of a pot. “We have company,” he said softly as you walked over. You peered through the doorway to find Jonas sitting at the table which had not been moved from the living room back to the kitchen yet.

You walked over to where your husband stood. “What’s he doing here?” you asked under your breath. “He’s come to congratulate you on your journey to motherhood,” Yeosang whispered. You glanced towards the doorway before turning to Yeosang, clearing your throat.

“Yeosang, I don’t want to speak to him,” you started as Yeosang set the spoon in his hands down and took your face in his hands. “I know,” he replied. “I spoke with Yunho and he told me what you both saw,” Yeosang whispered. “But let’s not talk about that now,” he continued. “We’ll go out there together.”

He took your hand and guided you towards the door, entering the room with you in tow. Jonas sat at the table, looking out the window but as soon as the two of you entered, he turned his head, offering a smile. It looked pleasant enough but after what you’d seen, you felt it was out of place and chilling. Yeosang sat you down one seat away from Jonas, taking the seat between you as a sort of shield.

“News has spread of your addition to the village,” Jonas started, looking past Yeosang and directly at you. You glanced at Yeosang who nodded, speaking for you. “Yes,” he said. “It comes as a shock to us,” Yeosang said in a polite voice. “A shock?” Jonas asked, taking his eyes off you momentarily to look at Yeosang. You felt relief for a moment.

“I’m sure as newlyweds, you’ve been very…” he trailed off, his eyes wandering back to you. “Vigorous in your new couple activities.” His words sent a chill up your spine, the sour feeling back in your stomach. You could feel the bile rising up.

“Oh, uh,” Yeosang’s words failed him as he tried to think of some sort of response. “Well, I suppose,” he tried again but faltered, glancing at you. “Pastor Kang, could I have a word with your lovely wife. I could use a glass of ale. I’m quite thirsty and in her delicate condition, I’m sure she should be resting right now. Especially when you have such a big night ahead of you.” Yeosang hesitated, glancing at you.

Words failed him again and reluctantly, he got up, walking into the kitchen. The moment he was gone, you tried to get up, the sour feeling rising in your stomach, but Jonas grabbed your wrist, holding you down as he leaned forward to speak.

“If you think you saw something in the church yesterday,” he started, his grip on your wrist starting to hurt. “Then you are gravely mistaken, indeed. It was a trick of the light. Something conjured by that fanciful imagination of yours. But what you saw was nothing, am I understood?” he asked in a low voice.

You tried to pull away from him, the contents of your stomach threatening to spill any moment. You heard a door opened quickly and you turned to see Yunho walk in from the spare bedroom, making a beeline for Jonas who quickly let go of you, clearly not expecting to be interrupted. Yunho towered over the man as he sat back in his chair.

“If you ever lay a hand on her again,” Yunho started, not bothering to keep his voice down, drawing Yeosang out of the kitchen in a hurry. “I will not hesitate to expose you for what you are, snake,” Yunho continued. Jonas stared up at Yunho with a murderous rage.

“Please make sure our guest leaves, Yunho,” Yeosang said as he moved to your side, grabbing your wrist to inspect the marks of irritation that had started to form. Yunho made to grab Jonas by the jacket but he slapped the larger man’s hand away.

“Don’t touch me, you fool,” Jonas hissed at Yunho who narrowed his eyes. Quick as a snake, Yunho’s hand closed around Jonas’ throat and he pulled him up. Jonas choked and struggled against Yunho’s grip. “You will leave this village or I will expose you and leave you to the villagers’ wrath,” he said as he turned the knob for the door before shoving Jonas out.

Yunho glared at the elder minister as Yeosang checked your face. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked. You shook your head. “I feel sick,” you moaned. You heard the door slam shut and turned your head to see Jonas marching back towards the church.

“What about the other priests?” you asked, looking up as Yunho moved to sit across from you. “They stayed with other families last night,” Yeosang explained, inspecting your face once more. “Turns out all the protective charms that Jonas made weren’t protecting anyone,” he explained. You turned your gaze to Yunho. “We discussed this yesterday while you were sleeping,” Yunho said, looking at Yeosang. “But we believe Jonas is the witch,” he continued.

“Or at the very least, aiding them,” Yeosang interjected. Yunho let out a dry laugh. “I know you want to believe in him, Yeosang,” he started. “But you didn’t see what I saw. Or what she saw,” he added, nodding towards you. “Ask her.”

Yeosang turned his head to look at you. “It’s true, his eyes—”

“No,” Yunho said, shaking his head. “Not his eyes. The vision.” You stared at him as it came back to you. “W-what vision?” you stammered. Yunho leaned forward, looking into your eyes. “I know you saw it,” he said, ignoring the way you shook your head in denial.

“Because I saw it, too. Last night. The witch, the altar, the summoning circle. All of it,” Yunho explained. “Everything makes sense now. It was all Jonas’ doing.” Looking at your husband, you could tell he was at a loss for words. He wanted to believe his mentor was incapable of such atrocities but you knew what you felt when you looked at Jonas yesterday and again today when he touched you.

Jonas was the witch. The one responsible for everything. 

“What are you doing? We need to warn people!” Yunho smiled, shaking his head as he looked down at the table. “We’ve already done that,” he answered. Yeosang turned to look at Yunho. “What?” he asked. Yunho looked up. “The church is being searched now by the villagers. I instructed Jongho, Mingi, San, and Wooyoung to mention something to the families they were staying with in passing. Of course, it might have taken some persuasion,” Yunho continued, shrugging his shoulder

“But at this time, I imagine the villagers are conducting a very thorough search of the church and Jonas’ room,” he concluded. He looked up to meet your gaze. “He will be forced to run and when we banish the demon tonight, he will lose his powers and won’t be able to hurt anyone else,” he added. A small smile spread across your face.

Yeosang sighed, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth before he finally relented. “Alright,” he said. “So we’re still going through with the plan?” Yeosang asked and Yunho nodded. “Of course,” Yunho answered, turning to look out the window. You followed his gaze in time to see a mob of villagers exit the church, dragging Jonas out with them. You turned away from the window, meeting Yunho’s eyes. “This village’s trouble ends,” he said softly.

“Tonight.”

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, the plan was set into motion. You took a lantern, intent on leaving to head into the woods. Yeosang pulled you into a very tight embrace before kissing you. “Please be safe,” he said softly. “I’ll see you at the stream.”

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, taking one of his hands and placing it over your stomach. “Us. You will see us at the stream,” you replied, correcting him. Yeosang let out a small huff that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a cry. He cupped your cheek and nodded. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” you replied as you pulled back. “Alright, Y/N,” Wooyoung said as you raised your hood. “It’s important that you guide him to stand in exactly the right spot,” he explained. “I know, Wooyoung,” you said softly, giving him a smile. “I know the mark.”

San gave you a smile as you turned to him. “If he tries to grab you, tie this to his wrist. It’ll hurt him enough to let go of you and you should be able to run away. We won’t be far,” he said, handing you a small garland. You tucked it away, thanking him.

“I’ll be fine,” you said as you looked around at them. The village was empty save for the priests and yourself. You were ready to play your part in the trap and the villagers had agreed to stay out of the way, keeping inside their homes with new protective charms over the doors and windows of their homes.

After another round of farewells, you headed for the woods, walking over the yellowed grass and dirt. You hadn’t been into the forest since Hongjoong chased you out and so going back felt intimidating. You’d never been afraid of the forest before but now you had a very real reason to fear it which had once been the reason you loved it.

Yeosang watched as you stepped into the forest, disappearing into the trees quickly and let out a soft sob. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Yunho standing beside him, looking to the forest where you had just disappeared. “It’s going to be alright,” Yunho said reassuringly. “She’s going to be alright.”

“Come,” Mingi said, turning to look at the others. “We have work to do.”

The sun was low enough it was filtering through the trees, elongating the shadows and bathing everything in a golden glow.

‘Golden hour,’ you thought as you walked through the woods, making your way to the cabin. Hongjoong rarely showed himself when the sun was out and so it felt like this was the best time to go into the forest and find his witch box.

Instead of following the path, you tread over the broken branches and fallen logs that littered the forest floor knowing it would get you to the cabin much faster. As you trudged further into the forest, you felt less and less safe. A stark contrast to how you used to feel.

You reached the cabin in no time and saw before you a scene you hadn’t been prepared for. The goats that once greeted you were lying in a pile in their shed, blood and feathers bathed the garden as you stepped over the mess and carefully pushed open the cabin door.

Inside the cabin was a mess. Furniture had been thrown around, destroyed and splintered wood littered the floor. There was blood all over the door and walls and feathers all over the floor. You walked further into the cabin and found the hidden panel. Pushing it open, you knelt down and peered in, finding it empty. 

You crawled into the small space, setting your lantern down and producing a small trowel. Looking around for any sort of marked spot, you found a small symbol carved in the wood of the cabin. Taking the trowel, you started digging under the spot for a few minutes until the tip of your trowel hit something. You unearthed a small wooden box and grabbed the lantern.

Carefully, you dusted the top off and found the carving in the top matched the amulet Hongjoong used to wear. You carefully opened it and found what looked to be a lot of small trinkets. You closed it, knowing you couldn’t waste any more time. You grabbed the lantern and scrambled out of the crawlspace. 

Once back in the cabin you made for the exit and froze in the doorway. Hongjoong was standing outside the garden gate, watching you. You took a deep breath and exited the cabin, walking towards the gate. He didn’t move, instead, watched you curiously.

As you started to walk past, he stepped in front of you, blocking the path. “What are you doing here?” he asked, in a soft voice. You looked up, not expecting that. His eyes were no longer demonic but back to the warm brown you had grown accustomed to and fell in love with.

“I’m doing what you asked me to do,” you replied. “You told me if anything happened to you that I should take this box from its hiding place and bury it deep in the forest.” You gestured at the box cradled in your arm. Hongjoong glanced at it before his eyes met yours.

“Why didn’t you do it before?” You stared at him. “Well it was storming that night and so I planned to do it the next morning but then you came back that night and things just got… confusing,” you said softly. You glanced towards the setting sun. Hongjoong seemed to take notice. “Are you in a hurry?” he asked, sounding genuine.

You nodded. “Yeah, the woods aren’t safe at night,” you said softly. An idea crossed your mind. “I’m going to bury this now. Do… Do you want to come with me? See where I put it just in case?” Hongjoong’s eyes lit up, a smile crossing over his face as he nodded.

You swallowed the lump in your throat before holding your hand out for him to take. He hesitantly took your hand and you walked, pulling him along as you headed for the stream. As you walked, hand in hand, you noticed how his hand was warm and it almost was as if he was himself again but you knew it was dangerous to think like that.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said softly as you walked. “I do, though,” you said, nodding, seeing bits of the stream through the trees. “Why?” he asked. “Why do you have to do it?” You glanced up at him as you walked.

“Because I promised you I would and I keep my promises.”

Hongjoong studied your face before he looked down, noticing the ring on your finger. “Like you kept your promise to love only me?” he asked, sounding heartbroken. “You died,” you reminded him. “You died and became something else. I had to think of myself,” you explained. “I needed to get away from my parents. I just wanted to feel happy again,” you said softly. 

Hongjoong stopped, keeping a firm grip on your hand. 

“We could be happy,” he said as you turned to look at him. “Hongjoong,” you said, shaking your head as he let go of your hand and moved forward, closing the distance and taking your face gently in his hands.

“We could leave this all behind. Run away like we planned and live a life by the sea,” he continued. You pulled back, feeling your conflicting emotions swirling inside you. “No, we can’t,” you replied. “You’re dead, Hongjoong.” 

He looked at you in both pain and confusion. “You said you would always love me,” he whispered, voice cracking. “And I will,” you replied. “I will always love Hongjoong,” you repeated. He looked up at you. “But you are not Hongjoong.”

He stared at you until his form shifted, the fiery eyes coming back, horns reappearing. “You’re a very smart woman,” he said, Hongjoong’s soft cadence gone, replaced with this more confident and arrogant sound one. “We could be happy,” he repeated, his hand moving to your cheek. “I could be him,” he added.

His hand slid down to your throat, fingers brushing your skin. “I could be Hongjoong for you,” he whispered. The thought of a demon masquerading as Hongjoong made your skin crawl. It was bad enough he had latched onto his soul and possessed his body. “I could build you those cabins. What was it? A hundred of them? I could do that.”

You backed away from him, shaking your head. “No,” you answered. “You are a demon, pretending to be the man I loved. You’ve killed people. You wanted to kill me,” you continued. The demon took a step forward. “I wanted to,” he said, emphasizing the past tense.

“I don’t want that anymore,” he pressed on. “All I want is you now. I wish I could kill you but he would fight. He might force me out and I can’t have that. I worked too hard to get this body.” You stared at him in disgust. “He’s powerful. His thoughts. He wants you more than anything. More than life itself. I have never experienced such intense longing like this.”

“I have to have you or else the thoughts won’t stop.” You took a step back.

“You’ll never have me,” you replied. “You’re not Hongjoong. You’re a disgusting, vile demon who has killed good, innocent people. Hongjoong would be disgusted by what you’ve done with his body. You will never be Hongjoong!”

The demon lunged for you but you dodged his attempt and turned, heading for the stream, jumping over the sigil on the forest floor. The demon gave chase, running through it and just like that he was caught.

“Got him!” Wooyoung yelled. At once, the priests appeared from the brush and attached ropes to Hongjoong’s wrists and neck, holding him as Yunho prepared the banishing ritual.

“Y/N,” Yeosang said as he turned to look at you. “Head back to the village!” You looked at the ropes binding Hongjoong as he fought to free himself and shook your head. “No,” you whispered. “It’ll take too long,” you said back. “I’m going further!”

Before Yeosang could stop you, you had turned and ran across the stream, following the path you’d look at, wondering where it led. 

Tonight would be the night you would find out.

As you ran through the trees, you followed the twists and turns of the dirt path as the sun sank lower and lower towards the horizon. As you rounded the bend, an old stone building came into view. You ran towards it, stepping over the threshold and looked around. It was a round room with three open doorways and a smaller room opposite where you entered. It seemed to be structurally sound.

You approached a small round platform and stepped onto it, looking up at the stone ceiling before kneeling down and setting the box down. You drew a circle with a sigil inside, following Mingi’s instructions and carefully set the box in the middle, grabbing the firestarter Yeosang had given you and quickly lit a fire before lighting a small piece of loose fibers and dropping them into the box.

You quickly surrounded the entire circle with a protection circle, like Mingi has shown you and took a step back, looking at the small inferno before you. “Now no one can stop it,” you whispered as you sat back and watched it burn.

“We can’t hold him much longer,” Yeosang said as he watched Hongjoong struggle against the ropes. “It’s just so Y/N can burn the contents of the box,” he said, turning to look in the direction you had run. Hongjoong let out a roar, pulling at the ropes. Yeosang looked as the individual threads started to snap.

“Perhaps we better start,” he said, turning to look at Yunho who nodded. “Yes,” he answered. “Jongho,” he added, turning to look at the monk. “You’re up.”

Mingi and Wooyoung tightened their grip on the ropes as did Yeosang. Yunho took Jongho’s place, allowing the youngest to approach Hongjoong from the front, reaching into the bag slung over his shoulder and pulling out a small leatherbound book.

He looked up at the demon as it snarled and attempted to lash out. Jongho glanced around at the others as he opened the book. “Let’s begin.”

Jongho cleared his throat before speaking in a clear, unwavering tone.

“In nómine Pátris, et Fílii, + et Spirítus Sancti. Amen.” A chorus of affirmations rang out from the others before he continued.

“Exsúrgat Deus et dissipéntur inimíci ejus: et fúgiant qui odérunt eum a fácie ejus. Sicut déficit fumus defíciant; sicut fluit cera a fácie ígnis, sic péreant peccatóres a fácie Dei. Júdica Dómine nocéntes me; expúgna impugnántes me,” he continued. Yunho glanced at the setting sun before turning to look at the demon. The ropes were becoming more and more frayed as the strength of the demon grew.

“I think we might have to skip formalities, Jongho,” Yunho said as he looked at the young priest. Jongho looked up, eyes examining the ropes before he lowered his eyes and started flipping through the pages of his book.

“Exorcizámos te, ómnis immúnde spíritus, ómnis satánic potéstas, ómnis infernális adversárii, ómnis légio, ómnis congregátio et sécta diabólica, in nómine et virtúte Dómini nóstri Jésu et Chrísti,” he continued, reading from the new page. “Eradicáre et effugáre a Dei Ecclésia, ab animábus ad imáginem Dei cónditis ac pretióso divíni Ágni sánguine redémptis. Non últra áudeas, sérpens callidíssime, decípere humánum génus, Dei Ecclésiam pérsequi, ac Dei eléctos excútere et cribráre sicut tríticum. Ímperat tíbi Deus altíssimus, + cui in mágna tua supérbia te símile habéri ádhuc praesúmis; qui ómnes hóminess vult sálvos fíeri, et ad agnitiónem veritátis veníre.”

San looked at Wooyoung with a quizzical look. “Does it always take you this long?” he asked, to which Wooyoung glared at him. “You can’t just recite a few words and then lop his head off,” Wooyoung answered. “It’s much more complex than that.”

At his words, the demon let out a roar, pulling at the ropes even more. “We don’t have time for this!” Yunho yelled at the two. “Jongho, I apologize, I know you have a penchant for doing this properly but we really cannot waste any time. We have to speed this up before we lose control of the demon!”

Jongho’s brows furrowed in annoyance as he flipped a few pages further and reached into his bag, pulling out a small vial of what looked to be blood. “What is that?” San asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Blood,” Jongho said simply. “The order Jongho comes from uses blood instead of water for rituals. They bless it the same way you do water,” Yunho explained.

Jongho flicked the vial towards the demon and immediately, a reaction occurred. The blood hit the demon’s face and started to sizzle, the demon letting out a demonic screech. “Váde sátana, invéntor et magíster ómnis falláciae, hóstis humánae salútis,” Jongho said in a loud, clear voice. “Da lócum Chrísto, in quo níhil invenísti de opéribus tuis; da lócum Ecclésia Uni, Sanctae, Cathólicae, et Apostólicae, quam Chrístus ípse acquisívit sánguine suo!”

He turned to look at San. “Ready yourself,” he instructed. San nodded, reaching over his shoulder to grab the handle of the sword that rested against his back, keeping his eyes on Hongjoong. “When I tell you, swing and swing hard.”

“Humiliáre sub poténti mánu Dei; contremísce et éffuge, invocáto a nóbis sáncto et terríbili nominé Jésu, quem ínferi trémunt, cui Virtútes caelórum et Potestátes et Dominatiónes subjéctae sunt, quem Chérubim et Séraphim indeféssis vócibus láudant, dicéntes: Sánctus, Sanctus, Sanctus Dóminus Déus Sábaoth,” Jongho recited the passage from his book.

“You know this next part. Recite your parts,” Jongho instructed, directing his words to San.

“Ab insídiis diáboli,”  Jongho said, not looking up from his book as a strong wind started to swirl around them.

San’s grip tightened on his sword. “Líbera nos, Dómine,” San said, keeping his voice steady as fiery eyes turned their gaze upon him.

Jongho pressed on. “Ut Ecclésiam tuam secúra tíbi fácias libertáte servíre.”

San’s look of determination did not waver as he spoke. “Te rogámus, áudi nos.”

Jongho looked up from his book as he recited his last part. “Ut inimícos sánctae Ecclésiae humiliáre dignéris.” He snapped the book shut as San pulled the sword from its sheath on his back, taking the handle with both hands.

“Te rogámus, áudi nos,” San repeated, bringing the sword up.

Jongho hit the demon with one more shake of the vial of blood but before San could bring the sword down, the ropes broke, sending Mingi, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Yunho flying backwards. Jongho stumbled backwards from the force as the demon lunged at San. A choke scream of pain rang out as the demon grabbed San’s weapon, ripping it from his hands and plunging it into the hunter’s chest.

Mingi got up, grabbing the snapped end of the rope in an attempt to gain control of the situation but the demon was quicker, grabbing his arm. Mingi tried to pull his arm away but the demon was too strong.

Yeosang looked up as Mingi started to let out a scream of pain and before his eyes, Mingi’s arm caught fire, spreading quickly throughout his body. Mingi fell to the ground, screams piercing the air as he rolled around. Yeosang attempted to get up, Yunho helping him up as the demon turned its attention on Jongho, leaping onto him and knocking them both to the ground. 

In a matter of seconds, the demon was able to take out three of them but Yunho was determined. He grabbed one of the ropes, fashioning a noose quickly before throwing it over the demon’s head and pulling as Yeosang grabbed another rope. Wooyoung, instead of helping, pulled out a dagger. “Wooyoung, no!” Yeosang yelled as the younger man went for the demon, driving the dagger into his side, managing to hit between two of his ribs.

Hongjoong turned, grabbing Wooyoung by the throat and squeezing. Yeosang watched as the demon lifted Wooyoung with ease, lifting him off the ground so his feet were dangling. Without wincing, he pulled the knife out of his side and stabbed it into Wooyoung’s abdomen, twisting the knife with a malevolent grin. He harshly pulled the blade out at an angle, slicing sideways into Wooyoung’s stomach before dropping him to the ground.

Yeosang’s eyes widened as Hongjoong stalked forward, Wooyoung’s dagger in hand. Yunho dropped the rope, getting to his feet, and rushed the demon. Everything that followed seemed to happen in slow motion as Hongjoong reached Yeosang. 

There was a sting in his stomach, just to the left of his navel followed by a burning sensation. Yeosang’s eyes traveled down as all sound seemed to be muffled, noticing the blade of the knife had been driven into his skin, through his shirt. He looked back up to meet Hongjoong’s gaze, the two staring at one another before Yunho tackled the demon to the ground.

Yeosang let out a cry of pain as the knife was ripped from his stomach, sending a fresh wave of pain throughout his body as he covered his stomach, blood beginning to soak his shirt. Yeosang fell to his knees, looking past Hongjoong and Yunho wrestling on the forest floor to the still bodies of San and Jongho. Wooyoung was still gasping for breath as he lay, bleeding out. 

Mingi’s charred body lay several paces away still smoldering. Yeosang heard a sickening snap and Yunho went limp, falling to the ground as Hongjoong stood over him. The demon turned to Yeosang, panting with effort. He grabbed the knife and walked over slowly, grabbing Yeosang by the hair and forcing him to look up at him.

“I could finish you right now,” Hongjoong said, pointing the bloodied tip of the blade at Yeosang. “But I have unfinished business with your wife. If you’re still alive when I come back,” he added, pushing Yeosang to the ground. “I’ll kill you then.”

Yeosang was unable to see which way Hongjoong went, but knew without a doubt it was the same direction you had gone. Despite the agonizing pain, Yeosang pushed himself up, keeping his hand over the wound in his stomach as he stumbled after, following the path just beyond the stream. He needed to get to you before something happened.

You sat motionless, watching the box burn, each item either turning to ash or charring. The small fire popped and crackled, providing a surprising amount of warmth as you rested a hand over your stomach. You looked down, feeling a small amount of triumph at what you had accomplished and could only hope the priests had been able to do the rest.

There was a small whoosh behind you and a gentle breeze. Your eyes widened as a chill went up your spine and slowly, you turned to look at the doorway behind you, finding Hongjoong standing in the only means of escape, hands covered in blood and a bloodied knife clenched in one hand.

Your eyes traveled up to his face, noticing the specks of blood all over his shirt, neck, and face. You scrambled up, backing away until your back hit the wall. “No,” you whispered as he looked up from the burning box. He started forward and you screamed at him to stay back.

He looked down at the knife in his hand and back up at you before tossing the blade aside, ignoring the clatter of the steel hitting the stone floor as he crossed the room to where you stood, caging you in as he grabbed your throat. “You’ve been a very bad, bad girl, Y/N,” he said as he pinned you against the wall.

You struggled against his hold, fingers slipping over the blood that coated his wrist. “Let me go,” you squeaked out, making him laugh wryly. “Let you go?” he asked in an almost hysterical tone. “Did you not hear me earlier, Starlight?” he asked, leaning in until his face was inches from yours, lips close to yours. “I. Want. You.”

You tried in vain to pry his hand off you, kicking as he slid your body up the wall, lifting your feet off the ground. “Whether you give in to me willingly or fighting doesn’t matter. I will get what I want in the end Starlight.”

You slid the garland San had given you from your pocket and quickly wrapped it around Hongjoong’s wrist. The effect was instant and he threw you to the side as he screamed in pain, the materials burning his skin.

You landed on the stone, hitting your head with a crack but tried to scrambled up and make for the archway. Hongjoong recovered quickly, crossing the distance and grabbing your ankle, making you trip and fall before he started dragging you back towards him.

“Please, please, please!” you screamed, trying desperately to grab onto the stone blocks of the floor. Hongjoong pulled you under him, rolling you onto your back as he pinned you against the stone floor. “Now you want to beg for your life?” he asked, laughing mockingly.

“After every stunt you’ve pulled. Luring me into that trap, burning that box, and then using that little trick with the garland? You think after all this, I’m going to show you mercy? You’ve been helping them all along, you slippery, little minx.”

You tried to kick him off but your efforts were in vain. “Please,” you said tearfully as his eyes traveled down to your throat. “I’m pregnant,” you whimpered, tears falling freely. Hongjoong looked up to meet your gaze. “Another trick?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You shook your head. “No,” you said breathlessly. “I’m with child. Please,” you continued. 

“Don’t kill me.”

Yeosang stumbled along the path, one hand covered in blood that continued to seep out of the wound on his stomach. He leaned against a tree, the tips of his fingers growing cold as he pressed on. His breath was growing shorter, he knew he didn’t have long and he needed to get to you before Hongjoong did.

As he rounded the bend in the path, he noticed an abandoned stone building with a flickering light inside. ‘That must be where Y/N is.’ He continued forward, hobbling towards the building. As he reached the open doorway, he stumbled, falling to his knees, letting out a pained groan as more blood painted his hand. He let out a couple deep breaths before forcing himself up and through the doorway.

Across from him, perched atop a small platform, stood Hongjoong. At his feet, a ruined, burned box surrounded by a circle of protection. Yeosang looked back up and noticed you pinned against the wall behind Hongjoong, vines holding you up. You let out a gasp at the sight of your husband as he lost his balance and fell to his knees.

“Let me go, please!” you begged. Hongjoong glanced over his shoulder before he sighed, waving his hand. The vines retreated, slithering away like snakes and releasing you from their hold. You rushed past him to Yeosang, dropping to your knees to look him over, only noticing his bloodied hand as you looked down.

Hongjoong stepped around the box, stepping down from the platform as he watched as you fretted over Yeosang. You turned to look at him, tears in your eyes. “Please,” you begged. “Save him. If Hongjoong is still in there, please save Yeosang!”

The demon let out an exasperated sigh. “He can’t hear you,” he said, shaking his head. “Hongjoong is buried deep inside. And besides,” he said, starting to pace the room behind you. “I doubt he would willingly help the man who stole you from him.”

You turned to look at him. “He didn’t steal me!” you argued. “Hongjoong died, you tried to kill me, and Yeosang saved me. I owe him everything. I love him.” You felt Yeosang grab your arm, looking up at you wearily. “Run,” he panted. “Leave me and save yourself.”

You shook your head, taking his face in your hands. “No,” you replied. “I’m not leaving you behind!” You heard Hongjoong stop pacing behind you and turned to look at him. “He’s right, you know. You should run. I’ll even cut you a deal,” he said with a smile as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You run now, I’ll focus all my attention Yeosang. Draw out his suffering before I kill him and when I’m done, I will hunt you down and do the same to you. Think of it as a head start,” he said with a wicked grin, a malicious glint in his eye.

You stared back in horror. “You said you didn’t want to kill me,” you reminded him. Hongjoong smiled, laughing to himself before it subsided. “Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I lied.”

Yeosang started coughing and you turned as he coughed blood into his hand. “Oh,” said Hongjoong in mock concern. “That doesn’t look too good.” You turned to glare at him, tears streaming down your face. “Now is your perfect chance to run, cause if he dies before you get very far, it won’t take me that long to hunt you down.”

You shook your head. “You’re a monster,” you spat. “How charming,” Hongjoong said in a monotonous voice as he stared back. “I’m offering you a chance to live just a little bit longer and you’re calling me names for it.”

“I’m not leaving!” you shouted. “I’m not a fucking coward, like you!” You turned to look at Yeosang who was shaking his head. “I’m not running.” You pressed a kiss to his lips. “Do what you have to,” you whispered. “I’ll buy you some time.”

Hongjoong’s smile widened. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said before crossing the distance and grabbing you by the back of the neck and pulling you from Yeosang’s grasp. “No! Don’t. She’s pregnant!” he yelled as Hongjoong dragged you back, making you face Yeosang as he forced you to your knees. “She already tried that,” Hongjoong scoffed.

He produced the knife taken from Wooyoung and brought the edge of the blade to your throat. “No, no, no!” Yeosang shouted. “It’s not mine!” he yelled, drawing Hongjoong’s attention. “What?” the demon asked. “It’s not mine,” Yeosang whispered. “She was pregnant before we were ever intimate. She got… so sick before we got married. She was sick for days. Throwing up blood and I thought maybe she’d been poisoned,” Yeosang explained quickly.

“But I think she was pregnant.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the priest before looking down at you and back up to Yeosang slowly. “And there’s only one other man she’s been with,” Yeosang added. You sobbed silently as Hongjoong lowered the knife, pointing it at Yeosang. “Do you take me for a fool?” he asked. 

Yeosang shook his head. “No,” he answered. “But you must have known when Hongjoong came back, they were intimate. You were already inside his body. Did you not take control sometimes? During the act?” The demon stared at him. “And what if I did?” he asked. “What would that change?”

“That could be your child,” Yeosang answered. “It wouldn’t be mine,” the demon answered. “It would be Hongjoong’s.” Yeosang shook his head, holding a hand out as he rushed to buy some time. “No, not if you were in control when you climaxed. It would be your child.”

The demon looked back up. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you?” he asked, letting out a humorless laugh. “This changes nothing. You’re both going to die.”

You let out a sob as Hongjoong grabbed the back of your head. “Look at him!” he ordered. “I want his dying face to be the last thing you see,” he added as he brought the blade back to your throat. “Y/N, look at me,” Yeosang said suddenly as you gasped between sobs. “Look at me, sweetheart.” You blinked the tears away, meeting his gaze.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Do what you have to,” you added. “I love you, Yeosang. So much.” His eyes widened as you glanced down at the box before you turned, lunging at  Hongjoong and knocking the both of you backwards, the knife falling from his hand with a metallic clang. Yeosang dropped his hand to the stone, quickly drawing a small sigil as you and Hongjoong wrestled on the floor, both of you grunting in effort.

“Fortress of stone, hear my words and hold this creature of evil at bay. Let him not travel from this place for eternity as long as the stone endures. Hide him away from the world and keep him imprisoned,” Yeosang whispered as he finished the symbol.

With a loud snap, Yeosang looked up as Hongjoong sat up, staring down at your lifeless body. A sob left Yeosang’s lips as the demon got up, stumbling backwards as he stared, wide eyed at your corpse. The fiery eyes had returned to Hongjoong’s warm brown ones and in a cruel joke, the demon forced Hongjoong to look on in horror at what he’d done. “I’m…” Hongjoong whispered as Yeosang dragged himself over to where you lay.

Hongjoong looked up as Yeosang reached you, pulling you up to cradle your shoulders. “I didn’t mean to—” Hongjoong said as Yeosang looked up at him. “I know,” Yeosang answered. “It wasn’t you. It was the demon.” He looked back down, caressing your still warm cheek. “It was one last cruel act of the demon to break your spirit and I daresay it worked.”

When Yeosang looked back up, the warm brown eyes of Hongjoong were gone, the demon’s eyes were back and he looked down at him. “Very observant indeed,” the demon said with a sneer. “I was going to kill you,” he continued as he started to walk past. “But I think I’ll just let you bleed out. It’s more fun that way.”

Yeosang let out a humorless chuckle. “You’ll have to stay and watch,” he said, looking up. Hongjoong turned at the doorway to look at him. “I’ve bound your demonic soul to this building and now you’ll never be able to leave,” Yeosang explained, pointing at the sigil which was now etched into the stone and no longer written in his blood.

“As long as any part of this building stands, you will be stuck here for eternity,” Yeosang gasped, as his grip on you lessened, the strength leaving his body. He was able to give the demon a smirk of his own as those fiery eyes turned to look at him in a murderous rage. “My parting gift to you.”

Yeosang slowly succumbed to his wound, slumping over your body as he finally passed out. Hongjoong turned to the doorway and attempted to reach past it, finding an invisible barrier keeping him from leaving. He tried again only to be forced back. He let out a scream of frustration, kicking the stone wall as he tried in vain to break the stone and free himself.

He threw himself against one of the walls and screamed in anger towards the stone ceiling, the sound reverberating off the stone. He sat in silence, breathing heavily as he stared at yours and Yeosang’s lifeless bodies and then the burnt box. He looked away, anger still coursing through him until he saw the three open doorways, staring at them for what felt like hours.

Finally, he got up and walked over, peering into each one before he started to inspect the walls more closely. He turned about the room a few times before he walked over to the small platform and stepped up onto it, looking around before raising his gaze to the ceiling, noticing the small open circle in the middle.

He looked down and took a seat at the edge of the platform, looking at you and Yeosang once more before scoffing. “Well,” he said, admitting defeat. “You certainly got the last laugh in,” he continued. “And since I’ll be stuck here for the foreseeable future,” he added.

“Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me unless stated otherwise.

[quintessenceofdust88]

perfect (it's not all it's cracked up to be)

Hello everyone! I promised you guys that the sequel for this prompt would be up by the weekend, right? Turns out I only sorta lied cause it's still Monday hehe. I hope you enjoy it!

You can read it on AO3 if you'd prefer! ❤️

When Tommy wakes up, it’s like his body is on fire and freezing at the same time; half of his body feels numb, and the other half is hurting like never before. Huh, maybe his father had a point and all queer freaks end up in hell. Then again, considering one of his last deeds on Earth was walking out on sunshine itself, maybe it’s not about his queerness after all; it’s about Tommy himself. 

He hears a heart monitor at his side, and that gives him pause; he doesn’t think the afterlife bothers with medical devices, so… So maybe he’s alive? If only opening his eyes didn’t feel like it would hurt so much, Tommy could try and find out (not that he knows what hell looks like; it could be like a hospital room, for all he knows). He tries it anyway, letting out a grunt as it, indeed, hurts like a bitch. 

“Oh my God, you’re awake!” A voice says to his right side, and yeah, now Tommy’s pretty sure he’s not in hell. Evan Buckley doesn’t belong in hell, not even as part of Tommy’s eternal torture. 

As his vision clears, Tommy sees Evan is on a chair by his side, and he looks… Rough. There’s stubble covering his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He’s looking at Tommy with despair clearly written in his permanently wet eyes, as if he’s afraid Tommy will disappear if he looks away. And to Tommy, it’s still instinct to comfort Evan, to try and find something to say that’ll make him feel better.

“You found your present” He says dumbly, his eyes not leaving the burgundy hoodie that’s so beautifully wrapped around Evan’s frame, making him look as cozy and adorable as Tommy expected. And, well. It might not have been the smartest thing to say, but he supposes there’s a lot of morphine going through his body right now. 

“Well, yeah, after you told my sister where it was as your helicopter crashed? After you wished me Merry Christmas and Happy New Year as your parting words?! It wasn’t so difficult” He answers with a somewhat hysterical chuckle. “What the hell, Tommy?! You’re too much of a coward to actually let yourself be loved and see a future with me, but not to send a farewell message to me through dispatch?! You’re unbelievable!”

“Buck…” He starts, but it’s clear he won’t get to say anything this time. For one, his brain is still working a little too slow to translate thoughts into words. Evan seems to notice it, and lets out a defeated sigh. 

“We… We’ll talk later, ok? Let’s get a doctor to check on you first. Sorry, that should have been the first thing I did” He says grumpily, and presses the button by Tommy’s bed. 

From them on, it’s a flutter of doctors and nurses, and Tommy learns the extent of the damage: a broken femur, at least five crushed ribs and a small concussion, not to mention the thousand bruises that turned his whole left side black and blue; he hasn’t looked at a mirror yet, but it can’t be pretty. 

“Yeah, well, you should’ve seen the other guy, doc” He attempts to joke, and Evan’s scoff and the doctor’s exasperated look make it clear it wasn’t his best attempt. “So, let’s talk business, doc. Will I fly again?” Tommy asks, because that’s the question that matters the most. 

He realizes with a treacherous skip to his heart that Evan looks as interested in the answer as Tommy himself. During the whole time the doctor is talking to him about treatments and physical therapy and his perspective to get back to work, he stays by his side, nodding attentively at everything the doctor says (as if he’ll be involved in your treatment, a hopeful part of his brain that should have quieted down weeks ago supplies, and Tommy does his best not to listen to it, because it’ll hurt so bad when it’s not the case). 

When the doctor makes it clear that Tommy will not go back to the air for at least six months, Evan squeezes his hand and gives him a look of solidarity that goes a long way to make it not feel like the end of the world. And when the nurse comes to up Tommy’s dosage of morphine and redress his wounds, he doesn’t let go of his hand. Tommy wants to say something, anything, but he’s received a lot of information and the morphine running through his veins makes it difficult to put his thoughts into words. But he doesn’t want to fall asleep; he doesn’t want to let Evan go. 

“Sleep, Tommy” Evan tells him in a firm tone. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Then we’ll talk”

It sounds too good to be true; Tommy refuses to believe it. Evan would have every right to leave him to fend for himself; he wouldn’t blame him in the slightest. He closes his eyes, fully expecting to find an empty room when he wakes up.

But contrary to all expectations, when Tommy opens his eyes again, feeling slightly more like a person and less like a shapeless bruise, is to find Evan in the same chair, only with the black hoodie this time, and a cup of coffee in his hand. 

He’s impossibly handsome in black, Tommy thinks dazedly, taking advantage of the fact Evan’s looking down at his phone to take a good look at him. There are dark circles under his eyes, and Tommy wonders if he’s been home at all. 

His heart does another one of those treacherous leaps, and Tommy is having a hard time keeping the hope from bubbling in his chest. Because if this man saw Tommy at his worst, physically and (especially) emotionally, and was willing to stay this long by his side, who’s to say he won’t stay longer? He was willing to; Tommy was the one who fled, thinking it was about the excitement of a new relationship, but staying by his side after a helicopter crash is something entirely different. Who’s to say he won’t just… stay?

Tommy has to be brave; hell, he’s been brave before, on that glorious night where he took a leap of faith and placed a kiss to the man who had maimed his best friend for Tommy’s attention. Evan had been brave, if a little misguided, when he invited Tommy to move in with him. He owes him some bravery right now. If nothing else, he owes him some honesty after everything.

“You were right” He blurts out, and Evan looks up from his phone, staring at him with widened blue eyes. 

“H-hey, you’re up! Do… Do you need anything? I can call the nurse…” He trails off when Tommy’s hand, the one which is less covered in scrapes and bruises, reaches out to lightly touch his.

“I just need you to listen to me. You… you were right, Evan. I was a coward. I am a coward. I… I don’t know how to be loved. I never was” He admits it, and hates himself for choking up as he says it. This isn’t a pity party; he’s just stating a fact: the sky is blue, alcohol is flammable, Thomas Kinard was never loved. He hates how it makes Evan’s whole demeanor soften, because Tommy doesn’t deserve it. 

“Then let me love you” Evan whispers, taking Tommy’s hand in both of his. “Let me teach you how it feels. It’s… It’s not like I’m an expert at it, ok? I… I haven’t always been loved either. But… but I love you. You broke my fucking heart, Tommy, and I still love you. Do… do you love me?”

“With all of my heart” Tommy whispers back, and he can’t keep a tear from running down his face. Hell, he almost died, he’s allowed to be emotional. “T-that’s why I had to leave, Evan. If… If you didn’t love me back… If you found out I wasn’t perfect…”

“I know you’re not perfect, Tommy. But guess what? I love you anyway, you idiot” He says, pressing a kiss to Tommy’s forehead, another to the tip of his nose, and a very tender one to his lips. “You… You always wanted me to see you as perfect. You barely let me in all the time we were together. But I saw it anyway, Tommy, and I still wanted you. I still want you”

“I… I was so afraid of being hurt that I didn’t think I’d be hurting you” Tommy admits with a sigh. “A-actually I didn’t think you’d be hurt. I… I thought you’d be okay. I’m sorry, Evan”

“Well, I wasn’t okay. Just ask all of my friends and the thousand loaves of bread in their pantries” He says with a chuckle, and then looks Tommy deeply in the eyes. “Next time, talk to me instead of doing a dramatic exit. And don’t wait till you almost die to let me know where my Christmas presents are”

Tommy chuckles, and squeezes Evan’s hand. He wishes he could sit up and kiss him within an inch of his life, but it  sounds a little out of his physical abilities right now. He’ll content himself, with a peck on the lips before Evan sits back down, still holding Tommy’s hand in his. 

“I promise Christmas will be perfect” He says, and Evan shakes his head.

“I don’t need perfect, Tommy. I just need you”

–

And Christmas is not perfect. Tommy’s still mostly on bed rest and his leg’s still in a cast. Buck’s staying at his place for now to help him around, but they decided to leave any serious conversations about moving in to after New Year’s. They haven’t really decorated (Tommy was too depressed to bother, and Buck didn’t really have the time between his shifts and taking care of Tommy) and their plans for the day mostly consist in staying in bed and alternating between cheesy rom-coms and documentaries. 

It’s not perfect. They are not perfect. But they’re together, and Tommy finds himself thanking any deity out there for his accident. That it brought Evan back to him, and more importantly, him back to Evan. 

Buck’s wearing his new burgundy hoodie, and he gives Tommy the airplane model that he stubbornly kept in the hood of the Jeep all this time. They assemble it together, and it’s not the best, because Tommy’s hands are still a little sore and Buck’s not very good at the whole arts and crafts thing, but Tommy puts in his nightstand with adoration anyway. 

And if there’s no tree, no Christmas dinner, no cheesy sweaters, well. They can always make up for it next Christmas.

--

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