#i ran out of images to add but please know | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beomiracles · 3 months ago

Text

𝓞𝐅 𝓢𝐍𝓞𝐖 𝓐𝐍𝐃 𝓢𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝓔𝐑𝓔𝐃 𝓦𝓘𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ Foolish girl. You should know better than to wander up the snowy and cold mountains all by yourself. Yet you march onward, not caring for the biting frost as you draw your coat tighter around yourself. The tales told by your old grandfather had been enough to fuel your curiosity, to push the bounds of danger as you sought to see the dragons for yourself. — Perhaps you got more than you bargained for when you suddenly stumble across the one everyone thought to be extinct; the ice dragon. ⸝⸝

𝓹airing dragon!taehyun x human!reader (f) 𝔀arnings descriptions of injuries/blood, supernatural au, kissing, character death (not main), shitty and poor writing, lowkey rushed toward the end, kills myself.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ wc, 14.1k ་༘࿐

#serene adds ✎.. my contribution to The Veils Of Aethera which is kind of very shit and probably the worst piece I have ever written (I'm exaggerating, maybe..) no but theres a lot of plot holes, which I did not have time to fill out but could definitely explain if someone wants me to, because in my head I have all the answers and um yes. I haven't proofread this once and I'm not going to because im nic sick off my ass and also on the verge of just falling asleep hm, anyway I love u guys heh please don't be mad at me for posting something so below my usual level >-<

ONCE UPON A TIME… In a land far far away, where the treetops touched the soft clouds of the sky, and the water sparkled under the glowing sun. Where mountains rose high and in which long, deep caves ran. Where the sea met shore in a collision of tall waves. Where the undead walked among the living. Where the winged flew above the finned. In a land where things beyond any reason and rhyme existed. And amongst those very beings, within the veils of Aethera, there was…

FIRE, burning hotter than the sun. Orange and yellow flames dancing before your very eyes, their warmth caressing your face, shunning the cold around and embracing you. Fire warm enough to kill, if they wanted to. — Turning forests into ash, melting even the firmest of steel armor, incinerating entire kingdoms with one mere breath.

The dragon’s powerful roar echoes over the mountain tops, loud enough for trees to shake. Even the wind gave way as they soared through the sky. Large wings slapping against the cool air as they danced through the clouds. Untamed beasts, that’s how most described them. Wild and fueled only by their desire and rage to destroy everything around them.

Few humans were fortunate enough to face one of these creatures and live to tell the tale. But the ones that did were graced with luck for many generations to come. These humans, those who sought not to fight but to learn about these beasts, were a different kind of people. Reckless in the eyes of other humans but courageous in the eyes of the dragon.

Together they conquered the skies, not as two but as one. Their souls connected with one another as they played a game of perfect synchronization. Moving swiftly in the dark, silently communicating with nothing but the twitch of a muscle. It was a different kind of understanding, a mutual one, a bond that ran far deeper than any other.

A raspy cough slices through the image of the dark fiery dragon gliding through the sky and your attention immediately shifts to the old man in front of you. — “Grandpa! Are you alright?” Quickly rising to your feet, you scurry toward the old man as you kneel before him. He gives a weak nod, dismissing you with the wave of his wrinkly hand.

“I’m fine, dearest..” He mutters, though the strain of his voice betrays his words. Still, you nod as your thumbs caress the back of his hand. “Now, where was I? — Ah yes, the dragons..” He shifts in his chair, the blanket slipping from his legs, and you rush to shove it back in place. Your old grandpa clears his throat as he prepares to continue.

“You see there were these formations they would do in the air and–” — “Alfred, that’s quite enough.” The brisk voice of your aunt, Fiona, pierces through the air. She sways by the doorway, her arms folded neatly across her chest as her dark gaze narrowed on your grandpa. With a small grumble he adjusts himself in his seat, muttering something about Fiona being “a persistent know-it-all.”

Your aunt doesn’t seem to care for his bitterness, for she did not enjoy hearing him talk about those “creatures” as she referred to them as. Instead she brushes past you, her arms wrapping around the old man as she helps him to his feet. “Enough about those lizards, come to bed.” — With a small glance over her shoulder, she addresses you in a most derogatory tone. “Make use of yourself out in the garden will you? Your grandpa needs to rest.”

The sun is warm against your face as you squint toward it. Your aunt had a lovely garden, situated just on the edge of the forest, by the very far end of the kingdom. Humming along to the soft tune of a slow melody, your hands busy themselves with hanging the damp garments on the clothesline that was tied between two posts.

A gentle breeze makes the wet fabric sway in the wind and you skip out of its way as you reach for one of the dresses. — “Thought I told you to let those things go.” The voice of your aunt slices through the relaxing atmosphere. She bends down to pick a pair of smaller pants from the basket, belonging to your younger cousin.

Even if her words remained vague and dismissing, there was no doubt that she was referring to the stories she’d walked in on your grandpa sharing, yet again. When your silence has gone on for a good minute she continues, “You know how he gets, going on and on about that nonsense..” Fiona huffs as she gives the pants a harsh shake before folding them across the string.

“But I should like to hear him out- His stories are beyond interesting, and he’s delighted to share them!” You chime in, a small, hopeful smile stretching across your lips. It was true, to reminisce about the tales of his youth seemed to be the only thing that brought your grandfather any sort of joy these days. It made the wrinkles around his eyes deepen when he smiled, a low breathy laugh rumbling within his chest.

Your aunt Fiona shoots you a pointed look, her attention then drifting back to the damp clothes. “That is all that they are, stories. But your old grandpa does not seem to know the difference between tales and truth anymore.” She heaves a sigh as she turns to you, “Lest us not make matters worse by encouraging these…fantasies.” Her tone was final, like a large wooden door being slammed shut in your face. You held your tongue, returning to your chores as the day continued on.

Dinner was chaotic, as it always was. With plates clattering against the small wooden table and glasses being tipped over. Your younger cousins bickered, their loud and whiny voices filling the cramped room. “Boys! Enough.” Fiona looks tired when placing the large pot of soup on the middle of the table, in the center of the whirlwind. The twins however, immediately quiet down though they continue to glower at one another.

“He started it!” William shouts as he points to his brother, Theodore, who merely shakes his head. “Did not!” — “Did too!” For each time their whining voices grew all the louder, soon overpowering any coherent thought you might have. A small tap to your side diverts your attention from the arguing taking place. Mira, your youngest cousin, points to the jug of water, silently requesting you give her some.

She was quiet, awfully so, in fact you don’t think you’d heard hear utter more than three words during meal time. You oblige by pouring her a glass, setting the jug back just in time for your aunt to give the twins a harsh tug to their ears, making them protest loudly. — “Give your mother a break will ya?” Her voice is harsh, leaving a thick silence behind as she lets go of her sons and takes a seat by the high end of the table.

Opposite your aunt Fiona, sits your grandfather. He seems lost in thought as his wrinkly fingers play with the spoon on his hand. Everyone is now turning his way, waiting patiently for him to begin eating. It was customary to let the oldest man of the house eat before anyone else, and usually your grandpa was not late to indulge… Today, he seems distracted.

“Father, are you not hungry?” Your aunt tries as she leans forward, gripping her own spoon tightly. You watch as his brows raise on his aged forehead, and your grandfather hums as his gaze drops to the bowl before him, as if he’d just realized its presence. — “Huh..” He huffs, readjusting his grip on the silverware as he stirs the warm soup. “Oh yes..” He murmurs, bringing a spoonful to his lips as he begins to eat.

Everyone sighs in relief, all following as they, too, begin to feast. For some reason you find yourself unable to. Your gaze lingers by your old grandpa, noting the slight tremble to his hand and the effort it took for him to swallow. Often did you worry for his health, for how long you had left with him. Regardless of his condition, there was little you could do for him. It pained you greatly.

Just like everynight, you tucked your grandpa in before bed. He’d gotten quite disoriented during later months and needed help getting from one place to another. With your arm around his weak frame, another one waiting to assist, you move him from his rocking chair and over to the soft mattress. — “There you go, pops. — Careful with your knees.”

Your grandfather scoffs as he waves a dismissing hand your way. “Enough dear, these legs used to conquer battlefields, they shan’t submit to a short walk..” Still, there was an undeniable tremble to him as he slowly lowered himself onto the bed. — Only once you’d drawn the thick blanket over him, did he finally seem at ease once more.

He hums to a foreign melody as you fiddle with the oil lamp on his bedside table. — “Ah, did I tell you about that one time… The one where I met a sundragon head on?” Your grandpa stifles a cough against his palm before shaking his head lightly. Though his train of thought was cut short when you place a gentle hand on his chest.

“It’s getting late pops, you need to rest.” The smile you send him is far from convincing and you quickly avoid his piercing gaze as you adjust the lamp one final time. You never turned down one of his stories, even if you’d heard it a hundred times before. He was bound to catch onto it, and he did. The sounds of sheets rustling rings in your ears as he props himself up on a weak elbow.

“Did my daughter tell you to stop encouraging me?”

It wasn’t a question but a statement. Despite your reluctance, you slowly admit to it as you give a meek nod. Your gaze trains to your hands as they rest in your lap, seated on the edge of his bed. Your grandpa makes a small noise of disbelief as he thumps back against the mattress. “Just as stubborn as her mother..” He mutters as he gazes up at the ceiling.

For a moment, a still silence fills the small bedroom, nothing but the wind tearing through the trees outside to be heard. Then your old grandfather suddenly speaks again. “Your aunt has every reason to resent those creatures, given what happened to my father..” — Your ears perk up at the mention of your great grandfather. He was, according to your grandpa, a man like no else. One who not only faced the dragons but even soared through the sky alongside them.

Well, at least until… Your grandpa’s hoarse voice interrupts your scattered thoughts. “I do not blame her”, he murmurs, sounding almost melancholic. Yet you’re able to catch the undeniable glint in his eyes, the one that would shine whenever he spoke of his past. “Still…”, he coughs, a low and weasel sound, “I would like to see them one last time.”

“To see the dragons once more, that is my final wish.”

𓍼ོ

The very next morning is cold, a lot colder than a typical summer one in Aethera. You tug your coat tighter around yourself, even your gloved hands slowly succumbing to the biting frost. It’s early, much so that the sun itself has yet to rise over the horizon. — Quietly, you slip out of your aunt's small cottage, sealing the door shut behind you as you give a final glance over your shoulder.

Your footsteps crunch against the leaves and twigs as you make your way through the thick and dense forest. Nature around you was still asleep, at least, most of it. You did not dare stop to think about what kind of creatures roamed these woods, what kind of entities lingered in its shadows.. A shiver runs down your spine and you shudder before pushing those thoughts aside, marching forward with hasty steps.

And soon enough, the trees part, making way for the large mountains ahead. With newfound eagerness, you rush forward, more than ready to leave the dark forest behind as you emerge from the treeline. — You pause, finding yourself in complete awe as you stare up at large stones, crafted by nature itself, their tops covered in a bright blanket of white snow.

Here you were bound to find what you were looking for. Dragons. Determined to fulfill your grandfather’s dying wish, the least you could do was set out to bring back the one thing he sought to see the most. You knew a lot about dragons, well, as much as he’d let on to in his stories. Still, the thought of seeing one up close.. It made your stomach tingle.

But the mountain is a lot crueler than you’d anticipated. The hike to the top is unforgiving, tearing your limbs apart as your body aches. You’re panting, knee deep in thick snow as you battle against the harsh winds. In spite of it being late July, the harsh conditions of the Frosty Peaks seemed to know no bounds as it served you whiplash after whiplash.

Frantically your gaze searches for an entrance, for any way to access the mountain. Your grandpa had long ago told you about the dark caves dragons resided in. “They’re quite tricky to find, not something you would just stumble upon. — A dragon’s nest is its most treasured place.” That’s what he’d said.

You knew to look for small, almost unnoticeable anomalies. Something that any other bypasser would mistake for nature's misfortune. A twisted branch, a cracked stone.. The cold wind hurls against you, making an almost ear piercing screeching noise. You can no longer feel your face as you keep your gaze trained to the ground, intently looking for something, anything that would give way to an opening.

But you come up short. There was nothing here. It felt like you’d been climbing this mountain for forever. It was never ending, everywhere you turned there was just snow upon snow upon snow. Every rock and every tree looked the same, perhaps you’d been walking in circles. What if you couldn’t find your way home, what if you were to freeze to death upon this quiet mountain, all alone and shivering as you take your last breaths.

The lantern you had brought along had burned out, yet you clutched it tightly as you stumbled forward. With your head bowed and your desperate eyes seeking what you thought to be the impossible, you’re unable to foresee the snare that protrudes through the white snow, not until it’s too late. It catches around your wrist, causing you to yelp as you fall forward.

It’s cold, it’s so cold that it burns. The hard ground caresses your tired body, the soil beneath welcoming you. With shaky hands you brace yourself against the mountain, daring to lift your head only an inch, wincing at the pain that throbbed within. “Ow..” You whine, clutching your temple as you screw your eyes shut.

When you open them again is when you see it. At first you didn’t know whether to cry or to laugh. In disbelief your gaze flickers between the lily that was currently in full bloom, thriving in deep snow, and over to the opening presented before you. — Unbelievable.

Excitement coursed through your veins as you scramble to your feet, eager to escape the menacing wind. It’s without thinking twice that you dart for the cave’s opening, throwing yourself inside with a relieved sigh. Your soft pants leave small clouds of cold in their wake, and you lean against the wet stone walls as you catch your breath.

With wary eyes you survey your surroundings, taking in the endless pit of darkness that awaits you. The cave curved in a C-like shape, and the sounds of water quietly dropping from its ceiling fills the otherwise eerie silence. — It takes you a moment to re-light your lantern, but once you have, its warm glow manages to bring you at least some sense of comfort.

Your hesitant footsteps bounce off the wet cavern walls as you delve deeper into the mountain. With your lantern held high, it guides you through the passages, an unexplainable tug at your chest urging you forward. Perhaps you should turn back, perhaps this had been a bad idea. After all, you did not know anything about dragons apart from what your grandfather had told you.— Was this really such a good idea?

A turn to your left leads you onto an even darker path, and you feel a shiver crawl down your spine, sending a shockwave of nervosity through you. With a small gulp, you readjust your grip on the lantern, its light casting your face in yellow-ish hues. — So far there was not a single sign of any other living being, and you had been listening to nothing but your own shaky exhales for the past twenty minutes.

Just when you had begun to consider retreat, did the tip of your shoe crash against something hard. Not being able to catch yourself in time, you stumble forward a second time that day. But this time, there’s no snow to catch you, and you hit the hard and cold cave floor with a loud crash.

“Ow..” Your groan pierces the thick silence, and you wince as you grab ahold of your already pounding head. Not again you sigh. Everything hurt, your body felt sore and bruised, you could only imagine how you looked beneath all your layered clothes.

Upon turning around, you find that what you had tripped over had been not a stone, not an overly large branch or any other of nature’s call. No, this was something entirely different… With squinting eyes you peer down at what appeared to be scales covering something the size of a smaller tree trunk. Confused you glance around in search of your lantern, it had slipped from your grasp during your fall.

You find it a few feet away, gingerly shuffling over as you retrieve it. Thankfully the flames within were still alive and you cradled it close as you turned back to the strange scaled thing you had tripped over, only to find it gone. — Your heart catches in your throat, making your eyes widen and the lantern threatening to crash against the ground once more.

A cold and harsh puff of air hits your back, hard. You gulp, slowly and carefully turning around as you clutch the lamp in trembling hands. Immediately your gaze falls on the exact same scales you’d seen just moments prior. White and smooth, perfectly covering four large legs, your attention fixates on the long and sharp claws on its feet. Then over to the almost translucent and magnificent looking wings, neatly tucked against its sides.

Dread fills you when you realize that what you had tripped over had been its at least 10 ft long tail. With a gawking expression you watch as said tail curls around its body. In almost cinematic slow motion does your gaze shift toward its head, where sharp canines rested in its mouth. There was no doubt that this was exactly what you had come here looking for.

“A dragon..”

The words leave your lips before you can stop them. Your soft whisper of disbelief carrying out into the cold air. It looked stoic, yet far from the dragon's your grandfather had described. This was not the dark and fire-spitting beasts he’d told you about, this was… A wet droplet splashes against your cheek and you glance up to find icicles peering down at you from the ceiling, their pointy ends looking ready to pounce.

A low huff brings your attention back to the creature before you, just in time to watch as it cracks an eye open. Its ice blue irises a stark contrast to the narrow slits of its pupils. This dragon did not hold the gaze of warmth and fire. — It held one of ice cold death.

You stumble backward on trembling legs. The wet and hard cave wall feels like daggers against your back when you crash against it. Your breath comes out in jagged pants, your heart beating through your chest as you realize the dangers of your situation. The plan had been to watch them from afar, to silently slip away as if nothing had happened when you had gotten what you’d come here for. The plan did however, not include coming face to face with one of them. To become trapped within the cold and eerie darkness of these caves with the very beings that ruled them.

With fear in your eyes, you watch as the dragon rises to its feet. Cold blue eyes locked on your small figure as you stay pressed against the wall, cowering before it. The sounds of its heavy steps echo between the icicles hanging from the ceiling, it makes the floor shake and rocks move as it slowly makes its way closer.

You can feel its chilly breath all over you, freezing your already damp and shivering body tenfold. You screw your eyes shut as you turn your head away, preparing yourself for the fate inevitably to come. — Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. You should’ve listened to your aunt. You had been a fool to believe your old grandpa. You should have never come here and you should have never woken this beast.

But the sharp and soaring pain of its large canines never came. And when what feels like an eternity has passed, you finally dare crack an eye open. Your vision is clouded by blues and whites, its nose hovering inches from your face. You couldn’t understand why it hadn’t made another move to attack you, to snap your frail body in half and rid itself of your invading presence.

The dragon only watches you, the slow waves of cold air washing over you when it exhales. You swallow, gaze drifting down its long and majestic body as you wait for death to come. It is then you realize that something was wrong. There, tarnishing the translucent hue of its large wing is a large and ugly crack. Dark crimson spills from it in dramatic fashion as it taints the dragon’s shattered wing.

It was hurt.

A pang of sympathy washes over you at the sight. The frantic beating of your heart faltering for a short moment as you exhale the sigh you’d been holding in. The dragon seems to notice where your attention lays and immediately covers itself up by tucking its wing to its side. — A low, predatory sound builds in its chest, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to rise as you will down a gulp.

It pulls back, and for a second you think it might retreat. But instead it opens its terrifyingly large jaw, presenting you with rows upon rows of teeth sharp as swords. You want to scream, but the dragon beats you to it as it lets out an ear piercing roar. — It makes the icicles above you shatter, their splinters flying everywhere. Even the walls tremble under the powerful sound and you find yourself darting for the exit without a second thought.

The sound continues to plague you as you run through the murky and long cavern walls, fighting your way through the maze you had once entered with curiosity and hope. Now you claw onto the desperate feeling of life, with tears streaming down your cheeks and your heart in your throat.

It’s not until light presents itself and you catch the sun on your face that you breathe out. Your lungs burn, your legs ache and your head pounds. The snow feels warm and inviting, and your knees sink to the ground as you plummet toward it. — One glance behind your shoulder shows the entrance gone once more, and you sigh, whether it was in relief or not, you can’t tell.

But as you make your way home that day, you can’t help but think of the dragon up in the mountain, and the large wound on its side.

𓍼ོ

Your grandpa accompanies you as you prepare dinner that night. Your aunt Fiona was out gathering wild berries and fruits along with your younger cousins, and so the kitchen had become a peacefully quiet and inviting space. The air is warm, the steam coming from the hot stew cooking over the small fire, caressing your face.

Perched on his stool by the high end of the table, your grandfather watches as you prepare plates and spoons for the family. His expression is calm, serene even. He doesn’t look as exhausted today, and you’re glad. These quiet and tender moments with him were ones that you cherished, for you didn’t know how many you had left.

Yet you can’t help your mind from wandering toward the mountain on the other side of the forest. Your thoughts are plagued by the lonesome creature hidden within the stone. “Grandpa…” Your fingers drum against the rim of the glass you were wiping down, a small frown tugging across your brows.

The old man hums as he shifts his gaze over to where you’re standing, obviously waiting for you to continue. It’s just… You don’t know how to. With a small, almost inaudible sigh you set the glass down. “Did you ever.. I mean was there ever such a thing as… ice dragons?” — The question catches him off guard, sure your old man was used to your inquiries about both the dragons and his past life. But something like this had never been brought up.

“Ice dragons?” He echoes, and you think you catch a flicker of intrigue behind his otherwise pale eyes. “Where have you heard about those?” He then murmurs as he attempts to sit a little straighter. You immediately rush to his side as you place an arm around him, “Careful.” But your grandfather only swats your helping hands away as he stifles a cough.

You purse your lips, but keep a steady grip on his shoulder as you hand him a glass of water. “I’ve just… Been doing a bit of research, and I stumbled across the topic.” You bite the inside of your cheek before adding, “There was hardly anything documented, so I was hoping you knew more..”

Your grandpa hums, the sound long and drawn out as he takes a sip of his water. “Well of course there’s nothing documented, ice dragons have been extinct for centuries.” He says it so calmly, like it was the most casual thing in the world. But it wasn’t. You had just seen one, you were sure you had seen one.

Images of the dragon up in the mountains flash before you. The blue and white scales, its frosty breath, its icy and penetrating gaze. But that would be impossible then.. It shouldn’t exist if they were extinct. — “Are you sure?”

With a small scoff, your grandfather sets his glass down. “What kind of question is that?” He quirks a bushy brow, his expression gauging as he studies you closely. “If there was as much as a single ice dragon left, I would be sure to know of it”, he states with a huff. You did not want to argue over the matter any further, and thus kept your silence as you continued setting the table.

Perhaps it had been a flicker of your imagination. The cave had, after all, been dark. It was possible that what you thought was real could have been all but an illusion. — But the ice cold shiver that ran down your spine as you recall its cold breath on your skin was most real. You think of the blood, of the large wound slashed across its side. How defensive it had gotten when it caught your gaze lingering.

You pitied the being. What awful it must be to feel pain like that.

“Why do you want to know about ice dragons?” The hoarse voice of your grandfather pierces the warm air and you turn to him with a small almost helpless smile. “I don’t know… Curiosity I suppose. ” You mumble, choosing to not bring up the day’s events in front of your old man. Your grandpa nods, his face looks sunken as his eyes drop to his empty plate.

Outside, you can hear the faint noise of your aunt and younger cousins as they approach the small cottage. “Curiosity will get you far”, your grandpa agrees, though his voice sounds almost solemn now. — “But we should not let our thoughts linger in the past.”

𓍼ོ

You find yourself setting out early in the morning that follows as well. But this time, you’ve brought more than a small lantern. The bag you carry is heavy on your back, making each step up the steep and snowy mountain twice the labour. Yet you persist, stubbornly trudging through the thick snow that reaches all the way to your knees.

The cold and harsh winds make for a narrow view as you squint against them. Your nose has lost all its feeling, and you’re certain that you’re developing frostbite on parts of your body. Frantically you search for the tiny lily. You had tried your best to retrace yesterday’s steps, wantonly stumbling back and forth as you scour the ocean of bright white.

“Where is it… Where is it..” Your lips are numb, your tongue feels way too big for your mouth and your words come out slurred. Never in your life had you been this cold before, and only God knows how much longer you’ll be able to carry on forward.

But then you see it, its bright pink hues lighting up your world like fireworks in the night sky. And just a few feet away, the familiar entrance presents itself. — Despite your better judgement you had returned. Pity, that’s what you told yourself. Pity and empathy, that’s what you felt for the lonely dragon. It was why you had come here, with the intention of helping, as best as you could. It would’ve been what your grandfather would have wanted.

Guilt weighs you down. It weighs heavier than the large bag on your shoulders. This secret you kept, it was bound to kill you. But such a thought seems small in comparison to the large cave that awaits you. — One final harsh thrust of the wind wins you over as you hurry inside, desperate to get out of its claws, even if it means finding yourself in the grasp of another.

The maze-like system that was the dark and wet cave is strangely familiar, even though it shouldn’t be. Your feet move on their own, carrying you through the long and narrow labyrinth. For each step you take, your heart beats a little faster. Fear and anticipation courses through you. — Scared as you may be, but this time you had come prepared. This time you knew what waited around the corner, and as you made a final turn to the left, you exhaled.

It’s dark, but now you know to watch where you place your feet. You’re silent, moving carefully through the cold air. Your lantern casts the cave in a warm and yellow glow, a stark contrast to the murky greys surrounding you. The icicles are sending gentle droplets of water down your way, one by one they splash against your cheek, the soft noise filling the open space.

You had expected it to be there, you had tried to imagine it over and over for the past day. But the large dragon still catches you by surprise when your gaze falls upon it. Hurled up by one of the rocky and uneven walls, its large wings folded over what you presumed to be its wounded side. Its chest rises and falls with each slow breath it takes, the dragon appears to be in a calm slumber. Cold puffs of air shoots through its flared nostrils, the condensation vanishing in the darkness.

It takes but one misstep on your part, the sound of rocks being crushed beneath the sole of your shoe echoing out into the silence. The disturbance wakes the sleeping dragon, and you find your gaze glued to its icy eyes as they snap open. Naturally, you expect for it to come lunging at you, just like it had the day before.

But the dragon remains oddly still, slowly exhaling yet another wind off freezing air as it watches you with an almost expectant glint. It was impossible to read the creature, no matter how hard you tried. Your grandfather’s stories only did so much, and it was admittedly far different to come face to face with one on your own.

“Hi.”

The greeting comes without you even thinking twice, it’s quiet, soft and timid. You’re surprised by your own rush of calmness at its semblance of indifference. For some reason, you did not feel threatened by the dragon today.

With slow and gentle movements, you let the bag slip from your shoulders, placing it down on the hard stone surface beneath you as you begin rummaging through it. You had not known what to bring along, for anything involving medicine was far from your expertise. The moss you’d brought from just within the forest line was thick and wet, but you vividly remember your aunt dressing your scraped knees in such.

Gauze was sacred, you had to venture all the way to the kingdom in order to acquire some. It was why you had taken as little as you could from your aunt’s medicine cabinet, hoping and praying that she wouldn’t be able to tell. — It wasn’t much, but it was something.

You feel the dragon's intense gaze on you as your trembling hands undo the roll of gauze, you wondered if it’d be enough to even go around its large body once. It was worth the shot. — You stand up straight, clearing your throat as you draw in a short breath. “I uh, I’m here to help you..” You give the dragon an awkward smile. It was impossible to know if it could understand you or not, but judging by the way its gaze narrowed at your words, you would guess it did.

It’s okay, you tell yourself, gripping the supplies in your hands tighter. You take a hesitant step forward, gauging its reaction as you keep your eyes on its head. But the dragon remains unmoving. Alright. Three more steps. Still good. — It’s not until you reach its side, your outstretched fingers reaching for the shattered wing, that the dragon flinches.

A low, menacing growl builds in its chest. The sound makes you falter, your eyes widening as you swallow the shriek about to escape your lips. “I…” Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly as your heart hammers in your chest. Had you taken it too far? Your intentions were pure, sure, but could this beast see that?

“I mean no harm…” You say as you let the moss and gauze drop to the ground, presenting your now empty hands before the dragon. The creature watches you with pupils that are narrowed into slits, clearly untrusting of your ways, but makes no move to snap you in half. — It meant something, at least so you thought.

Your attention slowly returns to the pale wing pressing against its side. If only you could get a closer look. Your palm graces the smooth and cold scales, fascinated by the foreign texture. But the action is almost immediately met by a harsh snarl from the dragon as its large head jerks your way.

Its breath is just as freezing as you’d remembered it, coming out in harsh puffs against your already shivering body. You’re so close that if you leaned forward as much as an inch, your foreheads would meet. — Your gulp is painfully audible inside the dark gave and you fumble for words.

“Y-You’re hurt…” Your shaky finger points in the direction of its wing and the dragon follows your direction. You watch in slight bewilderment as it flexes the broken wing. The wound looked harsh and deep, you were sure it restricted most of its movements, not to mention causing it great pain.

The dragon makes a small noise that sounds almost like a human grunt. The sound catches you off guard and you turn back just in time to catch its head shifting forward again, its attention seemingly fixed on something far away. It looked almost… defeated. You wondered for how long it’d been isolated up here, how many sleepless and painful nights it would’ve had to endure.

When it doesn’t make a second attempt to snap you in half, you take it as your sign to move forward. A brief inspection of the long cut helps you determine that it would probably not need any stitches. Said discovery relieved you as you had little clue of how to work both needle and thread, especially on dragon scales.

You pick at the moss you’d previously discarded, bunching the wet plant up in your hands as you sought a suitable approach. It would’ve been easier had this dragon been slightly smaller, or you slightly bigger. — Nonetheless you give it your best shot. The dragon hisses when you press the cold moss against the crimson cut, but you try your hardest to ignore the way it tenses beneath your touch, praying and hoping that it would remain as still as it had up until now.

Once the thick layer of moss is in place, your foot blindly reaches for the gauze as you roll it over. With the help of your teeth, and a lot of effort as your arms fought to keep the earthy moss in place, you managed to throw the small roll over its wing, only to catch it as it came down on the other side.

The process was tedious, and due to the size of the wound, it required you to repeat your original move a multitude of times. You work quietly, biting your lip in concentration as sweat pooled on your forehead. To try and get your mind off of the situation and task at hand, you try to figure out just what could’ve caused an injury like this.

Had the dragon taken a fall? Gotten in a fight with another of its species, or even worse, a completely different creature? You were no fool, and you knew that dragons were far from the only spirits that roamed this forsaken island. There were beings far more dangerous than a pair of claws and a large jaw. The thought alone made you shiver.

A loud thud snaps your attention to your left, your heart leaping out of your chest. But the terror subsided just as it had surfaced when your gaze fell on the dragon's head, resting atop the cold and hard cave floor in an exhausted manner. It exhales, the condensated cold air blowing from its nostrils like smoke out of a chimney.

It was impossible not to pity the lonely creature, and you feel your stomach twisting as you watch its defeated expression. There was much you wanted to ask, things you longed to know. For now, you were content with not getting torn in half as you tended to the crack on its wing. It was enough, you tell yourself.

Once you're done, you take a step back to inspect your work. It looked… messy. The gauze was wrapped in uneven layers, with moss peeking through here and there. An amateur's job, that much was evident. But the dragon doesn’t seem to mind, for it spares no more than a quick glance toward the now dressed wound. Instead, its cold and harsh gaze lingers on your fidgety frame as you debate your next move.

Your eyes dart around the dark cave, lingering on its sharp and rough edges. You wondered how uncomfortable it must be to live like that. The lack of sunlight, the lack of warmth.. Not that this dragon seemed to need it. — But there was really nothing here. And as you fetch your lantern once more, throwing the now empty bag over your shoulder, you turn to meet the dragon’s icy gaze.

“I’ll be back”, you say, and though it did not reply, you caught the faint shimmer of its once tired eyes.

𓍼ོ

You return to that same dark and cold cave for many days to come. As time passed, you found yourself growing all the more comfortable in the dragon’s ever looming presence. You would bring fresh moss, making sure to check on the wound as best as you could. — And though your bag weighs half a ton, you still managed to bring some nutrients all the way up the mountain.

“Here”, you had said as you threw the bag on the stone floor. The dragon had given you a small glance, its expression appearing almost judgemental before its gaze had flickered to the fish you’d brought along. — “Why come on, you must be hungry.” You motioned toward the fresh meat, feeling rather proud of the accomplishment. The dragon had let out a huff, blowing a cold puff of air your way before begrudgingly indulging in the food.

Conversation was difficult to make. You often talked to yourself, thinking out loud as you rambled on about whatever topic came to mind. Sometimes you didn’t speak at all, instead choosing to let a comfortable silence envelop the two of you. You did not know if the dragon enjoyed your company, perhaps it only put up with you because it had too little strength to snap you in half.

Yet the creature continued to occupy your thoughts. Its almost translucent wings, the pale scales covering its body, the sharp pair of icy eyes. One day you’d brought a small notebook along. Using a piece of charcoal, you sat perched against the opposite wall as you drew the dragon to the best of your abilities. You found it to be a great excuse to watch it for long periods of time rather than stealing subtle glances.

Truth was that no matter how many times your eyes fell on the dragon, you still found it hard to believe just what you were seeing. Suddenly your grandfather’s stories all made sense. The suspense and thrill of the dragons. The dangers and the courage it took. You understood why he enjoyed talking about them so much, you could feel his passion as you sat in silence with something so sacred.

But for each day that passed, the large gash on its side lessened in both size and severity. You wondered how much time you had left before it eventually spread its wings and took off. The thought plagued you more than you’d like to admit…

The morning is crisp, the moist and warm summer air had yet to fall over the small cottage you resided in. Just like any other morning you’re up and about, quietly shuffling throughout the tiny space as you pack today’s essentials. You were thinking of bringing along a book, perhaps you would read out loud to the dragon, any form of entertainment would surely brighten its mood.

Your eyes roam the crowded bookshelves, stuffed with literature of all kinds. From herbal tea recipes to novels and history books. The pad of your finger stops atop one of the shorter pieces, something you’d easily be able to finish within the day or the next. But before you can as much as pull it from its spot, squeezed between two thick history books, the sound of a floorboard creaking startles you.

“It’s a little early to be up reading.” Your aunt Fiona sounds like she’s just caught a thief in the midst of its burglary. And when you turn to face her, you find a satisfied smirk stretched across her thin lips. — “I…” Your words fall short, your throat suddenly thick with a fear you couldn’t quite place. “Well I was just-”

“You know I’ve noticed you sneaking around lately.” Fiona takes a step forward, and you start to wonder if she’d perhaps gotten up early solely with the intention of catching you. Her eyes gleam with satisfaction when they land on the book you had been reaching for just moments ago. — “Gone all day without as much as a word, you worry you old grandpa.”

Your aunt would often use your grandfather as a pressure point, knowing that the mention of him would get you to crack. She takes another two steps forward, stopping a mere feet away. “Perhaps you’re trying to get out of your chores”, she nods toward the garden outside, even though it had been left unattended for a mere week.

You shake your head, immediately trying to deny the accusations she was pinning on you. “It’s not-” — “Then what?” Fiona cuts you short, her voice snappy as her face twists into a small grimace. “What could be keeping you from your frail and old grandpa?” She had a point, and the fact that she did was a bitter thought indeed. You should be spending more time with your grandfather, you should be helping your aunt around the house, there are a lot of things you should be doing.

The sound of your swallow is painstakingly loud, shattering through the brief silence. “I know…” You bow your head, shame trapping your will to go see the dragon up in the mountain. “I’m sorry.”

Fiona seems satisfied with your answer. She purses her lips, humming to herself as she eyes the bag flung over your shoulder. “Leave it here”, she points to the sofa on your right, “You won’t be needing it for now.” — Reluctantly you do as she says, letting it drop to the soft cushion before turning to your aunt with disappointment surely written across your face. If she catches it, she doesn’t bother to acknowledge it. Part of you is relieved that she seems to have little interest in prying further.

“The garden needs tending to”, she states before turning on her heel and heading for the stairs, likely with the intention of waking your cousins. But as she reaches the first step, she throws a glance over her shoulder, her sharp gaze landing on your still unmoving frame. Her eyes narrow, “And don’t even think about leaving the house until you’re finished.”

You could understand your aunt’s reasoning. Raising three children and taking care of her sick dad would surely take its toll on anyone. Fiona was strong, a lot stronger than most people seemed to think. Usually you did not mind helping her, for it made you feel useful. — But today your heart yearns to be elsewhere. You find yourself glancing toward the mountain, your thoughts occupied by the pale dragon, the image of its icy gaze burned into your mind.

Because of that you find yourself hurrying through your tasks. Your fingers pull carrots from the moist soil, they pick basil from the fresh plants and pluck ripe apples from the old apple tree that leans to the right. Sweat dribbles down your forehead, and you mindlessly wipe it with the back of your hand as you carry on forward.

The work felt tedious today, and you stole peeks at the kitchen window, trying to catch a glimpse of your aunt as she moved about the house. When finally, after what felt like decades, your basket is filled to the brim with fresh nutrients, and the plants had all been watered and tended to, you return inside.

Setting the heavy bag down on the kitchen table, you look for Fiona, but she’s nowhere to be found. Your eyes drift toward the living room, lingering on the book you’d reached for that morning. You had done your chores for the day, so there was technically no harm in sneaking away, if only for a few hours.

𓍼ོ

Your way up the steep mountain feels lighter that afternoon. Your steps have a slight skip to them as you bounce forward. Nothing seemed to weigh you down, not even the full on scolding that you might receive from your aunt upon your arrival back home.

By now you find the lily with ease, its familiar and bright pink hue standing out perfectly among the clear and white snow. You’re excited, giddy even. The thought of spending time with the grumpy dragon brought you a kind of joy that should definitely concern you, and had you been any wiser, you probably wouldn’t have entered the cave that afternoon.

It was even colder than last time, yet the air was still, not a single gush of air hurling your way. You creep forward, without getting lost, because you’d acquainted yourself with the layout of the maze-like mountain. Now every twist and turn felt like a familiar face, one you’d seen so many times before and would always remember with a nostalgic smile.

You enter the opening that leads into what you had begun to call ‘the dragon’s nest’. The name was quite silly, but you didn’t mind since you were the only one to use it. But a frown quickly finds its way to your face as you regard the empty space. — The dragon was nowhere to be seen. Confused, you take another couple of steps forward, instinctively calling out for it, “Hello?”

There was, of course, no answer. You didn’t know what you had expected to come out of the simple greeting anyway. Rocking back and forth on the sole of your shoes, your mind rakes with different possibilities of what could have happened. Had it taken off? Maybe someone had found it, even worse, killed it.

No, that couldn’t be right.

Then you spot it, light. That was new, for the cave had been nothing but a room of complete darkness, ever since you first stepped foot here. Eager, you approach the source, forgetting all about your lantern as you discard it on the floor. Due to your previous visits being spent in such dim light, you had never noticed that the cave curled in on itself, leading even deeper than you’d originally thought.

The squeeze to get through however, was tight. There was no way a dragon would be able to fit through here. Rough and cold stone scrapes against your chest and back as you push yourself between the rocks, determined to find your way to the other side, to the light. — With a heavy sigh you finally stumble free, bracing your hands on your knees as you allow yourself to catch your breath.

When you glance up you realize that what you had stepped into was an even bigger part of the cave. But this one was basked in the warm rays of the sun. You’re almost blinded by the bright light, and you shield your eyes with your arm. Half the cave opened up and out into the sky. From here, the snowy mountains looked absolutely breathtaking.

And as you regard the snow coated treetops, the way the sun reflected off the white surfaces, it suddenly hit that you had never actually stopped to admire your surroundings. Each day had been a battle to the top, never once had you taken a break to glance around, to appreciate nature in its truest and rawest form.

But your moment of serenity is quickly broken by the sound of what you assumed to be a rock rolling across the cavern floors, the noise ripping you from your trance. You spin around, eyes wide as you try to locate its source, all to no avail. This part of the cave seemed just as empty as the last and the frown on your face only grew.

The dragon was really gone.

Then, just as you’re about to turn back, all air was knocked out of your lungs. The first thing you feel is pain, sharp and flaring through your body when your back is slammed against the cave wall. Your scream never makes it past your lips. And suddenly, the light that had previously enveloped you whole, was gone, shielded by something – by someone.

Your jaw hangs slack, the same terror you had felt on your first encounter with the dragon returning. It takes a moment for your flimmering eyes to adjust, but when they do you finally see the man before you. His face is dark, clouded by rage. The almost pitch black hair on his head falls in front of his eyes but you can hardly focus on his complexion, much too aware of the large hand he had wrapped around your throat.

Your breath hitches, a faint and helpless gasp escaping your open mouth. Who was he? Why was he here… How did he know about this place? — But then your gaze falls on his naked chest, there, covered in gauze and moss, the very same gauze and moss you had so carefully wrapped around its once large wing.

Finally, you catch a glimpse of his eyes. They’re dark and gloomy, but they’re familiar. As they narrow on you, there’s an undeniable hint of blue, shining within their irises depths – an icy and cold blue.

You realize then that the man before you was the dragon himself.

“I…” Desperately your fingers claw at his hand, trying to pry him off of you. The urge to speak is strong, but his vice-like grip overpowers it. His chest heaves, his breaths coming in ragged and rough, his hand around your throat tightening with deadly force. — “Why did you come back?” It’s the first time he utters as much as a word. It sounds strained, as though he’d gone years in silence.

When he finally releases his hold on your neck you fall forward, clutching at your throat whilst gasping for air. He watches you soundlessly, his expression twisted into a scowl. “W-What..?” You finally manage to croak out, feeling as though your wobbly knees were about to give out any second now.

The man scoffs, his fist connects with the cave wall next to you and the stones crack under his knuckles. “You should not have come here”, he barks, fury radiating off of him. “You do not belong here, human.”

He says the term with such distaste, making it sound derogatory. Perhaps it was. Yet you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around it. This was the very same dragon you’d been tending to for almost a whole week now. The creature in which you’d poured your love and affection onto, carefully building what you thought to be a relationship based on trust.

But as he stands before you in his human form, you hardly recognize him.

The man takes a step back, leaving you to exhale in relief. He turns away from you, as if trying to disregard your presence completely. You watch as he approaches the edge of the cave, where the bright sky meets the dark mountain. — Even with his back turned, you could tell that he was beautiful, breathtaking.

“I don’t understand…” Your quiet whisper seems to echo, a sound that you should be used to by now. Still, you can’t help but cower at the intensity of your words. The drag- man, does not turn to look behind him, does not spare you as much as a single glance. “It is not for you to understand”, he firmly states, his tone holding a bitter and resentful edge.

You shake your head, “I helped you-” — “You humiliated me.” He’s looking at you now, his cold gaze reaching you from across the cave. Your stomach drops at the statement. Have you done something wrong? You thought you were helping… “You degraded me by putting your filthy human hands on me.” He spits the words out, his voice laced with a venom so poisonous that it sunk into your veins.

“You were hurt-”

“I would have been fine”, he snaps. You feel frozen under his stare, unable to move as you shrink against the cave wall. He glances toward the bandage around his chest, the traces of what you had thought to be a gesture of kindness and empathy was something he regarded with hatred. It hurt. His jaw clenches, his hands curling into fists by his side.

“You should leave.”

Your blood ran cold at that and your lips part, an objection ready on your tongue. But he’s quick to realize that you won’t budge. With a small grunt he turns his back on you a second time, as he does, you catch a glimpse of the many scars slashed across his skin. They were a bright white, appearing healed though it seemed not even time could make them fade completely.

Before you can get another word out, before you can reach for him – he leaps off the edge. A terrified scream leaves your lips, and you slap a hand across your open mouth in shock. For a second you thought that he might have actually taken his own life, right before your very eyes. Everything is silent at that moment, and you do not dare move.

The sound of wings, slapping against the cold air is what gives you new hope. You see him, the pale blues easily giving him away as he pierces through the clouds, riding out the hurling winds. Your heart aches at the sight, for reasons unbeknownst to you, reasons you don’t think you wanted to get to the bottom of.

Suppose you would miss him, the lonely dragon.

𓍼ོ

Days passed. Days that would soon turn into weeks. The reality of your otherwise mundane life slowly sunk in, like fog easing its way from the ground after a rainy day. Only there was no sun to greet you after such gloomy weather. Your life seemed bleak these days. You did not know if that had to do with the absence of the dragon, whose name you never got, or your grandfather, whose health was declining each day.

Your days had shifted, and you no longer spent as much time in the garden. Hours upon hours were passed in the presence of your grandpa. His hand in yours as your thumbs caress his old and wrinkled skin. — He would cough a lot, and you could tell that it his condition was starting to wear him out. Regardless of that, he continued to drag on his long stories about the dragons, only with slightly less action.

Because even his stoires had found new attention.

“You know, they were actually quite crafty too.” Your grandpa’s voice is hoarse, and sometimes you need to strain your ears in order to hear him. Nevertheless, you sit by his rockingchair as he inistied on not spending his entire days bedridden. A blanket is placed over his lap, for he easily got cold these days, despite it being late summer still.

“The dragons?” You ask, to which your grandfather nods. “Ineed, in their human form of course. - And they were quite talkative too”, he recalls with a smile on his lips. You wanted to disagree on the matter, for the ice dragon you met had been anything but friendly. You thought you could still remember the glare he’d sent you, one that had stung through flesh and bone.

Your grandpa is attacked by another fit of coughs, and you help as best as you can by gently patting his back. “They sound lovely”, you murmur when readjusting the blanket over his legs. He gives your hand a thankful squeeze, humming in agreement. — “They are. Oh how I wish you should have known the gentle ways of a dragon, I think you would like it.”

He remains silent for a brief moment, his tired eyes lingering on the open window. The soft and warm summer breeze occasionally brushed past, sending a refreshing wave of air your way. Outside your younger cousins play, their screams of both joy and youth bounce off the trees. “Even my daughter might come to terms with it, had she just given them a chance.”

Something in the warm summer air shifted then, a darker cloud pulling over the otherwise clear sky. For long you had avoided the subject, danced around it because you were afraid, not of asking, but for receiving an answer. Still, your curiosity could not be contained, and as you witness your grandfather in his final moments, you realize that there might not be another oppurtitny for you to ask.

You clear your throat, shifting on your own chair as your hands remained clasped around your grandpa’s. “Say… What happened with my great grandfather?” You present the questions calmly, yet you avoid his eyes, your attention fixed on your intertwined fingers. — With a wheeze-like inhale, your grandpa sighs.

“You have not asked about him before”, he states and you can feel the slight tremble to his hands as they rest in your own. “No”, you say, “I haven’t.” You knew that avoiding this could not go on for forever, he knew it too. Your grandfather nods, taking another deep breath that seemed to cost a lot of effort.

“My father was a fearless man..” He begins telling it like he would any other story, but there’s a definite melancholic edge to his tone. “He was the closest our family ever got to the dragons”, he pauses, eyes flickering to met yours for a brief second, “Some even speculate that he fell in love with one of them.”

Your jaw slacks at that, the surprise evident on your face. “In love?” You echo, to which your grandfather chuckles. “She was a most beautiful woman, a man would be stupid not to recognize such, and my father was far from stupid.” He leans back in his rocking hair, it makes a creaking noise beneath his weight as it shifts backward every so slightly.

“They did spend a great deal of time together, much so that it worried the others.” — “Days could pass without my father returning from the mountains once. It’s quite confusing for a young boy such as myself to be left with his absence. - But I knew then, that my father’s love for the dragons was something I should aspire for myself.”

He made it sound beautiful, a lot more than it should have been. This was no fairytale for its ending was most gruesome. You knew that without having to ask. And with a heavy sigh, one that made his chest puff out before it shrunk again, your grandpa seems to come to terms with how the story had ended.

“Despite their love she still carried the deadly traits of the dragon. - But his death was never her fault.” Your grandpa turns to you with a solemn smile, “That’s what he would have wanted me to say.”

He doesn’t continue, even though you thought that he might. No, for once, your grandpa seems content with a shorter story, one that spoke for itself. Strangely enough it made you think of the dragon up in the mountain, he was not the same yet he was everything a dragon represented. He confused you, you told yourself that it was the reason he lingered in your mind, even when he shouldn’t.

𓍼ོ

Ingredients for your grandfather’s medicine were of best produce if you harvested them yourself. Your aunt Fiona had therefore urged you out the house that morning, making you embark on a rather long walk as you searched for the plant she desired. It was of magical properties supposedly, and therefore it grew only under magical conditions.

Lunarspore, or something along those lines was what it was called. A small, purple mushroom that thrived best in the murky waters of warm lagoons. Such a place did indeed exist on the island of Aethera, and as all humans, you knew its dangers. — Mushrooms weren’t the only thing that fed off of the almost glowing water. Beneath the surface lurked creatures far beyond any will of good.

Your feet come to a halt by the edge of the lake, your eyes narrowed as they peered across the thicker layer of fog that coated the misty surface. An uneasy feeling bubbles within your stomach, but you don’t turn back around despite your gut instinct screaming for you to do just that. Instead, you crouch down by the water, gaze searching for the round and plump mushroom.

It takes a while, but soon enough you stumble across one. With a relieved exhale you reach for the small knife stashed in your belt, flicking it in your open palm before reaching out to snag tha plant. You’re disappointed by its size, you would have expected them to be bigger. “This thing would barely last us a week..” You mutter as you begin searching for another one straight away.

To your surprise you find a second mushroom almost immediately. But to your dismay it was further out in the lagoon. You hesitate, gaze flickering between the safety of land and the need for the mushroom ahead. These waters scared you, and you did not want to wade out further than absolutely necessary. — In the end your desire to help your sick grandfather wins you over. With one tug, you pull your dress above your knees as you begin your descent into the lagoon.

For each step you take forward the water seems to get warmer. A strange and almost calm feeling washes over you, it puts you at ease, even as your mind yells for you to turn back. You ignore the strange sensations and keep your eyes set on the target ahead. Finally, as you reach the mushroom, you reach for it, but before the blade of your knife can slice it from its roots, a quiet whisper pulls your attention to the left.

Nothing but still and purple water fills your vision, yet you can’t shake the feeling that you weren’t alone. Something, someone, was there with you, lurking and stalking where your weak human eyes couldn’t see. The whisper is soft, it sounds almost like a melody, a sweet and enticing tune. You know you shouldn’t listen, you should scream for its silence and beg for your life.

But you can’t help but fall under its trance.

The water moves, gentle waves brushing against your naked legs. Your dress falls from the now loose grasp of your fingers, the cotton immediately being soaked up by the lagoon. The mushroom is long forgotten and the knife threatens to slip from your hands.

You see it now, long and flowy hair reaching the surface, its arms outstretched as it approaches. But you do not feel fear, in fact your whole body is calm, frozen in place as you watch the siren approach. You knew what was coming yet you couldn’t find it in you to lift as much as a finger in order to stop it.

Its wet and long fingers lock around your wrist, slowly tugging you toward the murky water. Its song rings clear in your ears now, but you cannot make out as much as a single word. You allow yourself to be pulled, the water is warm and inviting, enveloping you whole. For a moment you forget about everything, nothing exists and time is not real.

But then, just as your head was about to submerge under the surface, something hard and sharp hits you across the stomach. You’re lunged backward, snatched from the siren’s gentle but firm grip and hurled into the sky. At first, you’re too dazed to even realize what had just happened, but when your vision finally clears, and you behold the ground so far beneath you, is when you scream.

Everything was moving at an alarming speed, the wind whistling in your ears, the sound followed by that of winds slapping against the air. You glance up only to be met by the very same dragon you thought you had seen for the last time. He’s looking straight ahead, clearly unbothered by your terror as you squirm in the gras of his long claws.

If he let go now, you would fall to your immediate death, reduced to nothing more but a pile of shattered limbs as you melt against the ground. The thought scared the living daylights out of you and you stop fighting and instead cling onto him with all your might.

You’re… confused. Why was he here? After your last encounter you’d been certain that you were to never cross paths again. Yet here he was, not only that… He’d saved you. You dare another glance down, beneath you your surroundings are changing quickly. From up here they all seemed small and insignificant, even the lagoon which you had almost fallen victim to.

Your eyes shift toward the dragon, watching as his now healed wings tore through the sky, carrying you to a destination still unknown. You swallow, feeling at loss for words. His hold on you was firm, but it didn’t hurt but you felt pathetically weak squeezed between his claws. — The questions of why and how continue to run through your jumble of thoughts, even when the snowy mountain comes into vision.

Up here, the mountain seems a lot smaller, lesser. Fog covers the bottom half of it, making it impossible to even get a peek of the ground itself. He aims for an opening, one so familiar that your stomach dropped all the way to your toes. You knew exactly where he was taking you now.

He slows down, large wings twisting in the air as he comes to an almost abrupt halt. You shriek when the claws around you loose, making you slip from their hold. But the wet and cold cave floor isn’t far, and you land on wobbly feet with a small thud. The dragon quickly joins you, but the sound of him landing is not the loud and powerful noise you’re expecting, and when you turn around, you find him in human form again.

He runs his fingers through his dark hair with a small shake off his head, it looked almost as though he was dusting himself off. Your eyes trail across his muscular frame, something you had barely allowed yourself to look at last time. Briefly you wonder why he always seemed to appear without a shirt or any garment to cover his chest, but when your gaze flickers over his toned stomach, you find that you did not mind.

Dark yet cold and almost icy eyes flit over to you, and they narrow as he catches you staring. You blink, pulling your invading gaze from him as it jumps across the cave, one you had been in before, both of you. It’s then that reality slowly washes over you, you were here, with him, and he’d just saved you from a fate worse than death. There was only one thing to say.

“Thank you.”

You smile, hoping that the sincerity and your gratitude would show. But the man only frowns, his stoic features twisting into confusion as he watches you from the other side of the cave, a far and safe distance from you. “What for?” He grunts, the disbelief in his voice clear as day.

With parted lips you find yourself mimicking his perplexed expression. “You saved me…” Because he did, right? But he only shakes his head, emitting a small scoff as his jaw clenches. “The siren, the lagoon, I was… I would be..” — “You would be dead”, he calmly states, the simplicity to his tone made you want to shiver.

“I paid my end of the bargain”, he then says and for a moment you could not wrap your head around what he meant by that. Then it all came together. He was making amends for his broken wing, the one you had so carefully tended to, even without his compliance or permission.. Still he was willing to do the same for you, even if only to pay back the debt that seemed to weigh him down.

“Now we no longer have any reason to see each other”, he states as a matter of factly. You can’t tell if he looks relieved or merely tired, or perhaps maybe just at peace. He turns from you, and you panic, worried that he was about to take off once more. You don’t think you could stand seeing him leave, not again. Truth was, you had grown quite attached to the dragon… Yet you knew so little about him.

“You have yet to tell me your name.” It was the first question that came to mind. You bite your tongue, but when his eyes only narrow you quickly add, “You know mine.” It was true, you had told him your own name on your third or fourth encounter, for it had felt rude not to introduce yourself when tending to his wounds.

He scoffs, averting his gaze as it roams the now pink sky, painted by the warm hues of the slowly setting sun. His cold skin looked raw under the orange rays, and you find yourself mesmerized by everything that is him. You had so many questions for him, so many answers you longed to hear. Was he really the last ice dragon? How did they all die, and why had he lived?

Everything is silent for a minute, much so that you swore you heard the song of birds in the far distance. Then he exhales, a long and low breath. Without looking at you he says, “Taehyun.”

“Taehyun is my name.”

You instantly smile, practically beaming toward him. “That’s a beautiful name”, you hum. Taehyun snorts, giving a small roll of his eyes as he turns away from you to peer out over the sky. “There’s hardly anything beautiful about a dragon.” He says it so quietly, almost a whisper. It was probably never intended for your ears, but you hear it.

Why did he loathe his own kind? How could he be ashamed of something so majestic as himself. It made no sense. — Your feet move on their own, slowly carrying you across the cave. You never stop to think, and Taehyun does not turn your way. Then, before you know it, you’re beside him.

His skin is cold against your lips when you press a hesitant kiss to his cheek. His jaw twitches, and you feel his heavy gaze on you once you pull back. His dark brows are furrowed into a confused frown, but he doesn’t look angry. “It’s how we say thank you.” You smile in a way you hadn’t in ages.

Taehyun watches you, his eyes studying your face intently, as if considering his next move carefully. “You humans are strange”, he mutters, but there’s an almost teasing edge to his tone, much different from his usual gloomy demeanor. “A good strange or a bad strange?” You ask as you nervously pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

He shakes his head, turning to face your way and you suck in a sharp breath when you realize just how close you were standing. His expression is still hardened, as if stuck in a permanent frown. Within his dark irises swirl strings of cold blue, and they seemed to shimmer under the setting sun.

You tense up when he suddenly moves even closer, his ice cold chest brushing against your flaring hot one. “Good”, he exhales, his cool breath slapping your across the face when he leans in to press his lips against yours. His kiss is not the same sweet and hesitant gesture you’d given, but it’s not rough either. It’s… him.

A single shiver runs down your spine when his hand snakes to the back of your neck. It was so very different from when he’d had his fingers wrapped around it, squeezing with all his might. He touched you like you were made of porcelain, one push too far would make you shatter in his palm, and he would be unable to piece you back together.

The kiss goes on for forever, time slows down until it ceases to exist. You want to watch him, drink in his almost serene expression. Yet your eyes flutter closed as you return the gesture. Never did you question why he did it, because that didn’t matter. He felt so perfect against you, as if he was made for you and you only. Perhaps in another universe he was, in a universe where you were just like him, and not a weak and frail human.

He pulls back, lips parting only an inch from your own, his forehead resting against yours. He’s breathing softly, the tension washed from his face as he regards your flustered one. “That’s how we say thank you”, he murmurs.

“Why are you thanking me?” You whisper, your wide eyes peering into his. Taehyun sighs, blinking slowly as he swallows. “I don’t know. Why are you thanking me?” — You smile, your shoulders slumping into a shrug. “I don’t know.”

You saved him, and he saved you. A favor for a favor. You were no longer bound to the other yet it somehow felt like your heart was going to break into a million pieces if you let go now. Taehyun inhales slowly, his nostrils flaring when he does. “Can I kiss you again?” He wonders, and the question makes you almost delirious.

“Yes.” You’re already pressing your lips against his, desperate to feel him on you once more. He smiles into the kiss, a gesture so warm and contrasting to the cold and freezing layer of ice covering him. — Your hands are on his naked chest, fingers splayed across the now healed scar. The soft groan he emits vibrates on your tongue, urging your bodies flush against one another.

“You’re so warm”, he murmurs against your skin as his kisses move to your cheek and down your jaw. Your head falls back, the sunset basking the two of you in color, the world outside silently watching. — “You’re cold..” You whisper, your fingers intertwining in his dark hair regardless.

Taehyun chuckles, a sound you’d never before heard him make, it made your heart flutter. “I am”, he hums, his own hands trailing down your sides, relishing in the way you shiver as you stubbornly cling to him. The cold could not deter you, it never had and it never would. For Taehyun’s heart held all the warmth you should ever need.

The kiss ends for a split second in order for you to catch your breaths. Soft sounds of heavy panting fill the large cave, echoing off its dark and wet walls. You swallow, taking the moment to find your bearings as you gaze into his shimmering eyes. You knew then that he was someone you could trust, with your life if need be. It made your next move all the more obvious.

As you brush a dark strand from his face, you exhale. “I… There’s someone I want you to meet.”

𓍼ོ

“Careful”, you murmur as you lead your grandfather through the high grass. He coughs and tries to swat your hands away but you insist on keeping a firm hold around his shoulders. “There, there, don’t wear yourself out.”

“Pfft-” Your grandpa scoffs, shaking his head as he trudges on forward. “I haven’t been out and about like this in weeks, I’ve saved plenty of energy for the occasion.” He assures you. But you could tell by his laboured breathing and trembling arms that he was tired. You would have felt bad bringing him out here, wasting his precious energy like that. — But today was different.

“Why are we even out here anyways? You can hardly expect me to help harvest any herbs..” He mutters as his tired eyes flicker across the open meadow. It was calm, the late summer air basking the two of you in a warm glow. “No grandpa”, you smile as you pat his shoulder, “That’s not why we’re here.”

Your old man hums, giving a small nod as you come to a stop in the middle of the opening. “I have seen grass before, dear.” He gives you a pointed look and you can’t help but giggle as you shake your head. “I know, you’ve seen what I’m about to show you before too… But I still think you’ll like it.”

Your grandfather raises a brow your way, his lips parting as if to say something, but before he gets the chance to, the trees ahead rustle. The sound snaps both of your attention that way, and you manage to catch a glimpse of your grandpa’s curious eyes just as Taehyun emerges from the forestline.

When you’d first asked him, the request felt pushy, perhaps a little too much, but to your greatest joy, he’d agreed. The white and blue scales on his skin shimmer in the sunlight, and his nearly translucent wings seem to sparkle when he moves closer. He looks magical, hauntingly beautiful. But you force your gaze away from him and over to your grandfather.

He was watching Taehyun with a slack jaw, his eyes wide as sausages and you’re glad that you’re holding on to him when his legs buckle. “That..” He begins, his mouth dried up and his voice hoarse. He turns to you, as if in disbelief before quickly glancing back toward the dragon before him. “Is he real?” He quietly whispers and you bite back a giggle.

“Of course”, you say as you take his hand in yours. “Do you want to get closer?” The question was hardly needed for your grandfather moves with both newfound strength and speed as he approaches Taehyun who’s standing a mere ten feet away. He stops only when the dragon’s cold breath caresses his old and wrinkly face, a smile unlike anything you’d seen before etching its way across his lips.

“He’s real”, your grandpa states, and you swore you could see the happiness blooming in his heart. His gaze wanders across Taehyun’s blue scales, a small frown tugging on his brows. “He’s…” — “An ice dragon”, you nod, “They’re not extinct.”

Taehyun makes a small sound that comes across as half a grunt, half a snort. Your grandfather doesn’t seem to mind, far too preoccupied with taking in the sight before him. “How?” He whispers as he reaches a trembling hand out to touch the very tip of Taehyun’s cold nose. The action is intimate, and it makes your heart swell.

You never give him an answer, you’re not sure what you could even say. All you knew was that you had made his final wish possible, nothing else could make you feel better. — He spends the entire day with Taehyun, and when he shifts into his human form the two converse for hours on end. You watch them, wordlessly admiring the two. From the way your grandpa’s face lit up whenever Taehyun spoke of his life, to the dragon himself when he listened to your grandfather’s stories.

As the sun set you practically had to drag your old man home, promising that Taehyun would visit as soon as he had the chance. — Even though such a time never came.

Your grandpa died that night, it was a peaceful death, one kind and gentle. You watched with tears in your eyes as he inhaled a last time, his chest rising as he did. And when he finally exhaled, everything stopped. Every story and every adventure of his were reduced to just that… tales. Something to remember and to cherish.

You cried until the sun rose on the naked sky, your tears drying just in time for fresh ones to spill. You cried until your chest hurt and your lips were bitten bloody. You grieved your grandfather with every fiber of your being, until there was nothing left but large and hollow holes in your body, filled with an eternal sadness.

Taehyun was there, he came when he heard your cries. Even though his embrace was cold and his arms freezing as they wrapped around you, there was never a moment where you felt yourself shiver. For there was warmth in his heart, enough for it to spread to your own. — Taehyun would help you live, just like you had helped him.

taglist ✎... @liaatiny @Izzyy-stuff @Saejinniestar @Hyunelixbun @lunesdesire @n0-thisispatrick @lickingan0rchid @tyunderella @fancypeacepersona @hyunj00 @hwang-choon @soohashits @xylatox @lilbrorufr @ezeert @blossommi @beestvng @minji-willstay @sunoolver @yeoningz @beombunni @zi-vian @usuallyunlikelyfox @brrytears @stormy1408 @dontwannacry04 @soobabby @nshmrarki @dawngyu

(if your tag is not working please check your settings to make sure that your blog is not hidden!)

203 notes · View notes

cece693 · 3 months ago

Note

PLEASE MORE ASGARDIAN M!READER!!!

May I suggest a fic where the reader wants to bond closely to Wanda and Natasha but, is afraid because their only concept of sister relationships was Hela (reader is a little scared of Hela 😔 due to her destructive nature). Can I also add that the reader has slightly long hair (shoulder length) to braid!

Thank you for your talent and dedication!

He's Cute (Pt. 1.5)

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: wanda and natasha are the best, sibling duo, getting ready for the date, hints of WandaNat/ScarletWidow, bucky being adorably smitten, yes 1.5 cause pt. 2 is the actual date :)

You fiddled nervously with the ends of your hair, pacing the length of your borrowed bedroom in the Avengers Compound for what felt like the hundredth time. Today was the day: your very first official Earth date. With none other than Bucky Barnes. Just the thought of it sent a rush of excitement (and panic) through your veins.

The problem? You had no clue how to prepare for a Midgardian date. A tunic and breeches might scream ‘medieval faire,’ and your more formal Asgardian garb would be even more intimidating. What if Bucky took one look at you and decided you were too over-the-top or—in the worst scenario—ran for the hills? Then there was your hair. Should you leave it loose? Tie it back? Attempt some elaborate braid?

What if I make a total fool of myself? you thought, tugging on your hair with a frustrated groan. You considered consulting Thor—briefly—until your imagination conjured an image of him bellowing, “Wear your finest Asgardian leathers!” and slapping you on the back so hard you’d stumble. Not exactly helpful.

You also thought about Tony or Steve, but quickly dismissed those options. Tony might tease you relentlessly, and while Steve was sweet, he was probably as clueless as you when it came to modern dating intricacies.

That left two people you admired from a (sometimes intimidated) distance: Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff. You’d seen how confident and stylish they both were—able to slip into a gown or tactical gear with equal flair. If anyone can help me blend Asgardian flair with Midgard style, you reasoned, it’s them.

Trouble was, the concept of “sisterly” assistance made your stomach twist. Your only sisterly figure had been Hela—and she was the embodiment of destructive chaos. Whenever you thought of “sisterly bonds,” images of shadowy blades and a mocking sneer intruded on your mind. Still, you had no one else to turn to, and time was running out.

It didn’t take long to find them. Wanda lounged on a couch, sipping tea and reading a worn paperback. Natasha reclined in an armchair nearby, scrolling through her phone. They exuded a relaxed warmth that made your nerves surge all over again—how did you even start this conversation?

Wanda glanced up first, her warm eyes creasing in a small smile. “Oh! (Y/N), did you need something?”

Natasha flicked her gaze over to you, phone still in hand. “You look like you’re either about to faint or confess a murder. Everything okay?”

Embarrassed, you rubbed the back of your neck. “I—I’m sorry to interrupt. I know you’re both probably busy, but I…I have a date. With Bucky,” you added softly, feeling your cheeks heat at the admission. “And I have no idea what to wear or how to do my hair, or—anything, really.”

Wanda’s eyebrows rose, and a slow grin spread across her face. “A date with Bucky? That’s adorable.”

Natasha set aside her phone, crossing her arms. “So you want a bit of a makeover?”

You cleared your throat, nerves clashing with relief. “Yes. Please. I don’t know how Earth dates usually go. I’m used to, well…armor and father-gifts, and illusions if I want to ‘dress up.’ But that’s not exactly the vibe here.”

Both women chuckled at that. Natasha stood and motioned for Wanda to follow. “Come on, let’s get you set up. And don’t worry—you’re not bothering us. We’d love to help you not show up to your date in full Asgardian regalia.”

Natasha led you to what appeared to be a converted storage room. Racks of clothing lined the walls, and a couple of tall dressers stood at one end. You caught glimpses of everything from formal evening wear to casual street clothes—no doubt a stockpile from Tony’s various shopping sprees.

“Okay,” Natasha declared, scanning the racks. “We need something comfortable but sharp. You want to catch Bucky’s eye without screaming I’m a prince from another realm.”

Wanda’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Though, honestly, you could show up in a paper bag and he’d probably swoon.”

You felt your cheeks flame. “I—um, I just don’t want to look foolish.”

Natasha brushed aside a row of jackets. “We won’t let that happen. Trust us. Let’s see…” She paused, sizing you up. “You’ve got a good build—broad shoulders, trim waist. We should highlight that. Maybe a well-fitted shirt.”

Wanda’s gaze flicked between you and Natasha. “Oooh, yes. And if we can find a color that brings out his eyes…” She rummaged through a section of button-downs.

That left you standing there, feeling slightly awkward, as they pulled items from hangers and debated the merits of each. You shifted from foot to foot, your anxiety creeping in. This is far less terrifying than dealing with Hela, right? you told yourself. And yet, your heart hammered in your chest.

Eventually, Wanda triumphantly held up a simple, fitted gray button-down. “This might do,” she said, pressing it to your torso. “It’s not flashy, but it’ll look nice with your coloring.”

Natasha grabbed a pair of dark jeans from the next rack. “Try these on. We’ll see if they fit. If they’re too baggy, we’ve got more.”

Clutching the clothes, you ducked behind a folding screen in the corner. The chatter on the other side continued quietly:

“You think Bucky’s actually ready for a date?” Wanda whispered. “Oh, I’m sure he’s ready,” Natasha replied in the same hushed tone. “Steve says he's been looking at the clock constantly and somehow managed to trip over his own feet. He's more than ready."

Their amused banter made you smile—clearly, Bucky was as worked up about this as you were. That was comforting.

You slid into the jeans and button-down, surprised at how well everything fit. They weren’t Asgardian leathers, but the fabric was soft and flexible, hugging you just right. You stepped out self-consciously. “Well? How do I look?”

Wanda gasped softly, covering her mouth. “(Y/N), you look amazing!”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, arms folded. “Yeah, that’ll do. Sleeves up—roll them a bit. Show off those forearms. Trust me.”

Blushing, you obeyed, feeling a little self-conscious and a little flattered. “You really think Bucky will like it?”

“Absolutely,” Wanda replied, beaming. “He’d have to be blind not to notice how good you look.”

Natasha pretended to examine your outfit with a critical eye, but you noticed a small, knowing smile playing at her lips. Then her gaze flicked to Wanda, and they shared a subtle look—one that made your cheeks flush a second time. You weren’t sure, but it almost seemed like there was a soft warmth passing between the two women, a private understanding that neither was voicing.

Then came the matter of your hair. It fell around your shoulders, a bit unruly from the stress of pacing your room all day. You lifted a lock, hesitating. “Normally, if this were a formal Asgardian function, I’d wear a crown braid or decorative metal clasps that sparkle with runes. But that’s probably too fancy, right?”

Wanda stepped closer, gently running her fingers through your hair in a way that felt surprisingly soothing. “Yes. Maybe we could do a simple side-braid, just enough to keep it out of your face. Or tuck it behind your ears. You have a nice jawline, so let’s show it.”

Natasha approached with a comb and some small hair ties, exchanging that same subtle smile with Wanda as they both set to work. You couldn’t help but notice the soft brush of Wanda’s hand, the way Natasha’s posture angled toward her whenever they spoke. Something about their easy familiarity and gentleness felt domestic, like they’d done this a hundred times…maybe even for each other.

“Relax,” Natasha murmured, positioning you to face a mirror. “We won’t do anything too elaborate. Just enough to keep Bucky’s eyes on you, not on how complicated your hairstyle is.”

Wanda’s lips curved into a playful smirk. “Though he’ll definitely be looking either way.”

They worked in tandem, brushing, smoothing, and expertly twisting a small section of hair into a neat side-braid. With each gentle tug, your tension melted. It felt so normal, to be fussed over by these two formidable Avengers, whose reputations alone could strike fear into entire enemy organizations. Yet here they were, braiding your hair and chatting like older sisters might.

Every so often, you caught a flicker of something more than platonic in their glances—maybe the way Wanda’s hand lingered on Natasha’s wrist when passing a hair clip, or the private smiles they exchanged. It was fleeting, but definitely there. You wondered if you were witnessing the beginnings of something deeper between them—or perhaps it had been there all along, carefully kept behind the scenes.

Finally, Wanda tucked the last strand into place, and Natasha stepped back, admiring their work. “Alright, pretty boy. Check it out.”

You moved to the mirror, heart fluttering in anticipation. The reflection that stared back looked…well, incredible. The blazer fit perfectly, highlighting your form without overpowering your frame. The rolled sleeves revealed just enough forearm to be intriguing, and the subtle side-braid left most of your hair loose but framed your face nicely.

Your mouth fell open. “I—I look…”

“Really, really handsome,” Wanda finished, placing a gentle hand on your back.

Natasha’s smile softened. “You do. And trust me, Bucky will probably forget how to speak for a minute when he sees you.”

A mixture of pride and embarrassment bloomed in your chest. “Thank you. Honestly, I feel so confident. I’ve never had that before.”

Wanda wrapped an arm around your shoulders, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Of course. You’re about to go on a date, not face a war. It should be fun.”

Natasha’s gaze turned momentarily serious. “But if he does anything to make you uncomfortable—pressures you, upsets you—” She paused, letting the threat linger, “—I will personally have words with him.”

“And by ‘words,’ she means possibly an entire display of violence,” Wanda teased, but her eyes held a protective glint.

You laughed nervously, appreciating the concern. “I—I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Bucky’s so gentle. But...thank you, just the same.”

Natasha nodded firmly. “We look out for our own. And that includes you.”

Your heart swelled at the sentiment—so this was what a supportive sisterly bond could be, untainted by destruction and usurpation. After some final adjustments (Natasha insisted on adjusting your collar just so, and Wanda fussed with a stray hair you couldn’t see), the two women gave you a double thumbs-up.

“Go knock him dead—figuratively,” Wanda teased. “This is Earth, after all.” Halfway to the front entrance, you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Wanda and Natasha standing side by side, exchanging soft smiles. Wanda murmured something, and Natasha’s cheeks tinted the faintest pink before she turned away.

Maybe I’m not the only one with a new romance on the horizon, you mused, feeling a rush of fondness for both of them.

When you finally reached the main entrance, there was Bucky—hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders tense. The moment his eyes landed on you, all that tension melted. A slow, disbelieving smile spread across his face, and you swore you saw a slight flush creep up his neck.

“Wow,” he breathed, stepping closer. “You look amazing.”

Your cheeks warmed, but this time it was with genuine confidence. “Thanks. Wanda and Nat helped.”

He nodded, seemingly at a loss for words. “Remind me to, uh…thank them later.”

You chuckled softly. “I’ll let them know.”

The two of you exchanged a few shy glances, the air charged with a thrilling sense of possibility. Bucky offered his arm in that old-fashioned way you found so endearing, and you slipped yours through it, feeling a jolt of warmth as your elbow linked with his. “You ready?” he asked, voice tinged with nervous excitement.

You smiled. “I am.”

283 notes · View notes

jareaul0ver · 1 year ago

Text

Relax

Summary: Nika's taking a loss harder than you expected, so you figured you'd relax her in the best way you know.

wc: 1.3k warnings: established relationship, soft!dom!reader, sub!nika, fingering, oral, praising, soft sex making love basically, kinda fluffy at the beginning and the end pairings: nika muhl x fem!reader

You heard the door of your dorm slam shut and the sound of a bag landing roughly on the floor, followed by a string of Croatian curses.

"Baby?" You called out, getting up from your bed. The floorboards beneath your feet croaked as you left the room, spotting Nika leaning over the kitchen counter.

You approached her with a frown on your face and you ran your hands over her back and shoulders. "We fucking lost." She mumbled.

"I figured." You wrapped your arms around her waist and rested your head on her shoulder. She leaned her head back and melted into your touch. No matter how angry she was, she could never resist the warmth you made her feel.

"I should've played better. If I guarded better, maybe we could have-"

"No, baby. Don't start that." You kissed her cheek. "It's a team game, a team effort, a team loss."

She sighed and turned around in your arms. She moved your hands away from her waist and wrapped her own around yours. Your hands went up to her neck and you gently pulled her towards you.

"I watched the game, you played as good as you normally do. Iowa's a good team, it isn't your fault." You breathed out pressing your forehead against hers.

"Still, we should've won." She closed her eyes, trying to lose focus on the game, and only think about being here, with you.

You sighed and cupped her face in your hands. "I know, baby, I know." You leaned up and kissed her forehead. "Let's go lay down, okay?"

She nodded and you grabbed her hand, leading her to your bedroom. You gently sat her down by pushing on her shoulders, and she wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you on to her lap.

A small smile crept onto her face, making you smile. "Hi, baby." You said quietly.

"Hi." She whispered back. She leaned forward and closed the gap between your faces, pressing her lips gently against yours. You felt her breathe out, fully relaxing into your touch.

Your hands cupped your face as you kissed her back, keeping the contact light. She felt delicate in your hands, if you kissed or held her harder, she might break.

She however, felt the opposite. After losing, she was hard. She always got this way, even though she would melt in your touch the second she got through the door.

Nika kissed you harder, longing for more, for a distraction from the replaying images in the game in her head. You let her, and matched her pace. Your tongue swept her bottom lip, and she parted it from her top, letting your tongue slip into her mouth.

She groaned quietly and you felt your stomach flip. You pulled away and started kissing gently to her jawline, up to her ear. "Let me take care of you, Nika." You whispered, your breath hitting her ear and sending a shiver down her spine.

She nodded and helped you off of her. Nika crawled back onto the bed, and leaned up on her elbows, keeping her eyes on you. You moved towards her on your hands and knees, hovering above her.

You leaned down and connected your lips with her neck, leaving wet kisses down the column of her throat. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, letting you have better access.

You dipped your fingers beneath the hem of her training shirt, tracing them up her sides. She breathed out and you pulled away from her. "Feeling okay?"

She nodded. "Mhm. Keep going, please." Her voice was level but you knew her desperation was high. You nodded and tugged at the bottom of her shirt, signaling her to take it off. She did, quite quickly, may you add.

Your eyes trailed down her toned body. "You're so beautiful, baby." She blinked a few times, looking down at you as you started trailing wet kisses down her abdomen. Her lips parted and she felt heat traveling straight down to her core.

She bucked her hips slightly, and you looked up at her. You teasingly fidgeted with the drawstring on her shorts. "So needy." You smiled up at her before undoing the small knot and pulling her shorts off, tossing them to the side.

"I need you, please, Y/N." She whined. You raised an eyebrow at her and settled yourself between her legs, bringing her legs up to rest on your shoulders. You could see how soaked she was through her underwear, and you bit your lip softly.

You placed the pad of your thumb over her clothed clit and put light pressure. She groaned and threw her head back. "Relax for me, I've got you." She let herself fall back onto the mattress and you hooked your fingers around the waistband of her underwear, dragging them down and off of her legs.

You situated yourself back between her legs, and spread them apart with your hands, putting a somewhat firm grip on her thighs. You flattened your tongue and ran it up the length of her folds and over her clit, eyes rolling back in your head as you tasted her.

Nika inhaled sharply and gripped the sheets beneath her with one hand, the other threading itself in your hair and gripping lightly. You took this as your sign and ran your tongue through her folds, lapping up her wetness.

"Shit-" she bucked her hips but you quickly held them down.

"So eager." You mumbled, smiling lazily before latching your lips around her clit and sucking the sensitive bud gently. You felt her grip on your hair tighten and you sucked faster.

"Y/N, fuck." She whimpered.

"You're doing so good, baby." You said, the vibrations of your voice making another whine escape her throat. You traveled down, slipping your tongue into her cunt, while bringing your thumb to her clit to rub small circles.

Nika pushed your head closer to her. You knew she was getting close, so you continued, speeding up the thrusts of your tongue and the circles of your thumb.

She ground her hips against your face, coating your chip and lips with her wetness. She felt the knot in her stomach tightening, and uttered incoherent Croatian.

"Use your words, baby. I can't understand you."

"Faster, more, please-" She was becoming a mess beneath you. Without hesitation, you pulled your tongue away and quickly replaced it with two fingers, curling them inside of her, hitting her g-spot the way she likes it.

You latched your mouth around her clit once more, sucking feverishly on it. She was practically fucking herself on your fingers and mouth at this point, her hip jerking erratic as she was reaching her finish.

You slid in a third finger, and after pumping them a few more times, she came undone. Her back arched off the bed as she spewed out your name and unknown Croatian words that you were sure were curses.

The movement of her hips slowed, as did your fingers as you let her ride out her high. Her juices leaked out onto your fingers and dripped onto the sheets beneath the both of you.

Once she had fully relaxed, you gently pulled your fingers out, not without a small groan leaving her lips. You brought your fingers to her mouth, and cleaned them off.

You sat up and got off the bed, looking down at her. You pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'll be right back, baby." She nodded, her chest still heaving.

You quickly went to the bathroom and turned on the shower, set out towels, and lit a few candles that you knew always helped her calm down. You came back out and over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it. You brushed some lose strands of hair from her face.

"Come, I'll shower with you."

She smiled and sat up, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. "Thank you."

"Of course baby."

#nika muhl #lgbtq #uconn wbb #nika muhl x reader #wlw #nika muhl smut #seattle storm #wnba

448 notes · View notes

strangethlngs · 10 months ago

Text

── ❀⋆.ೃ࿔ somebody told me | steve harrington x fem!reader

✧ summary: [based on the song somebody told me by the killers] after breaking up with steve because of impending freshman year of college, both you and steve are haunted by what could have been. in an attempt to cope with the swirling emotions, you pursue a sexual relationship with eddie munson. halloween rolls around, and eddie invites you to a party. your blood runs cold in the midst of sweaty bodies when none other than steve harrington finds you in the crowd.

pre & post s3 steve harrington x fem!reader x slight fwb!eddie munson | angst, very slight smut vibes if you squint | no use of y/n

✧ word count: 4.8k

✧ warnings: MDNI! no full smut but talks of sex and sexual touching/dancing, use of marijuana, cigarettes, and alcohol, steve is an asshole, college struggles | if there is anything that i missed that should be listed, please let me know

✧ a note from s: hi everyone !! i listened to this song for the first time in a while the other day and immediately pictured this storyline and had to write it. this is my first ever fic on this account / first time writing for steve so please be gentle. i also want to put a disclaimer out there that don't write for eddie normally, but i did enjoy writing him in this fic so if everyone enjoys my eddie writing too i might add him to my list of those i write for. sidenote: as i was writing the party scene i couldn't get the image of steve harrington as jacob elordi in the club scene of saltburn out of my brain so enjoy that mental image xoxoxoxox

i'm so nervous to post this so plz lmk your thoughts & plz reblog/like/share to support my writing! enjoy <3

You gently pick at a loose thread on the quilt draped over Steve’s bed. You feel his eyes boring into your head, but you can’t bring yourself to look up at him and meet his eyes. You know they’re sad. Pleading. You can’t bring yourself to face it.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I really am… I just-“ you don’t know how to finish the sentence. You just what? You want to go into college single, why was that so hard to get out? It’s not like you and Steve had dated for years. You’d been casually together, only sporting the girlfriend label for the past 4 months. So why was this so hard? Had you known Steve wasn’t going to be able to get into the college you were going to, or most colleges for that matter, you wouldn’t have gotten as involved with him as you did. You never wanted to hurt him.

“You just what?” Steve prodded, not moving from where he sat, across from you on his bed.

“I don’t know Steve,” you struggle to get out, words failing you severely.

“I think you do. Just say it. At least give me the decency of a reason why you’re… dumping me.”

“I just think… when I leave in the fall,” you swallow, your voice pathetically getting smaller. “I should be single.”

He is silent for a moment.

“If this is a distance thing, we can just do long distance. We can make it work. I know plenty of people who were able to do that. I’m sure my manager at Scoops and I can work out a work schedule that leaves my weekends open. And we can alternate weekends to visit, or… or something,” he rambles on, shaking his head as if the idea of breaking up was not acceptable in his mind.

Maybe because, to him, it wasn’t acceptable. You were his dream girl. Even after a few months, you had him wrapped around your finger. He would walk through a wall of fire if you were on the other side. He hadn’t felt anything close to this since Nancy Wheeler. And you were nothing like Nancy Wheeler. And that’s one of his favorite things about you. But you hadn’t realized how deep his feelings for you ran, and you didn’t realize how deep leaving him would cut. It wasn’t easy for you either, sure, but at least you had a freshman year to look forward too. What did Steve have? Slinging ice cream? That insecurity of not being able to experience college at all was gnawing at him more than he’d let on to you.

“I just think this will be easiest for both of us in the long run… and who knows, maybe I’ll end up back in Hawkins after I graduate, or maybe in a few years you’ll be able to make it to college,” You offer, trying to be as gentle as possible. You stand up, walking to his desk to pick up your backpack.

Once you slip it on, you turn and finally make eye contact for just a moment, before he makes a noise between a scoff and a sniffle and breaks the eye contact, looking out his window. The vein in his neck twitches. You can tell something you said just set him off.

“You mean it will be easier for you.”

You furrow your brow. “What?”

He shakes his head and lets out a sigh, exasperated. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and slaps his palms on his knees.

“You know what… go and have fun at college. Go have fun and be single, while I stay here and make ice cream sundaes. That’s all I’m good for, right?” he sneers bitterly, his tone shifting from the soft pleading he just tried to offer moments ago.

You’re stunned and frozen to your spot next to his desk, hands gripping the straps of your backpack. “Excuse me?”

“I just don’t understand how you don’t want to even try to make this work. And I can only think of one reason you are refusing to try.”

You ignore the last bit, not even wanting to go there. “Steve, I just don’t think I have the mental capacity to maintain something between us. I worry I’d end up neglecting this relationship,” You really are trying to be a peacemaker here, but you feel Steve heating up, frustrated that his attempts to rectify this relationship were futile. Truth is, you don’t want to be single to date around. College was daunting as it is, and you wanted your time to be free to dive into your studies and figure out your place in this world. That, along with keeping up somewhat of a social life in a new big city far from the one boy you’ve ever actually liked would be hard enough.

“No,” He starts, shaking his head. “I think you want to be able to go out to parties and bars and flirt with and date whomever you’d like, right?” He spits, standing from his bed and folding his arms across his chest.

“Wow…” you slowly nod. You know he’s projecting, but damn if it didn’t hurt to hear your boyfriend you’d really started to fall in love with say. “If… if that’s what you think of me, I’m just glad I did this now.” You turn to leave before either of you say things you don’t mean, but Steve beats you to the punch.

“If that’s not the truth, why wouldn’t you at least give it a chance? You’re leaving me no choice but to believe that it’s the truth,” He saunters close to you. Angry Steve is not someone you are fond of. Sure, you had a huge crush on Steve junior year when he donned his iconic, yet asshole-ish King Steve persona. But you hated being in King Steve’s line of fire, just like you were right now. He’d grown and changed from those days, but if you got him upset enough, he would rear his ugly head. He stopped right in front of you, reaching around you to the door to exit his room. He gave you a look up and down you can only describe as pure disgust and muttered close to your face, “have fun with those college boys.”

You let out an airy laugh, his condescending words and tone sending you over the edge. You turn and fiercely walk to the staircase and stop at the edge. You know it’s a low blow. You know it’s hitting him where it hurts. But you’re so mad, you don’t recognize the man you’d gotten to know for the past few months. You spit out the sentence without thinking twice.

“I know you couldn’t possibly understand what I’m feeling because you couldn’t get into any colleges, but it’s not my fault you slacked off and didn’t get the grades. Don’t be bitter at me because I’m leaving in the fall and you’re not.”

You don’t have time to see his hurt reaction before you turn on your heel and race down the stairs and out the front door. As soon as the words left your lips you felt guilty. He’d been so insecure with his college application troubles and you used it against him. But it was over. You slide into your car and quickly speed down the road. You take a shaky breath in and out as you drive, trying to put Steve in the back of your mind and bring college preparation thoughts to the forefront of your focus.

✧

You push through the front door of your dorm building, heaving your heavy backpack through the long hall. Your eyes ached from reading your textbook for hours to cram in a last-minute study session for your exam tomorrow. You were teetering on a failing grade; you just knew it. This class in particular, but all your classes your first semester, were kicking your ass. You couldn’t afford to pay to retake classes. The stress of juggling all these hard classes was bogging you down, and you still didn’t know what you even wanted to major in. It’s not an exaggeration for you to say college was definitely not the exciting, thrilling fun you thought it would be.

When you push your room door open, you’re greeted with the smell of liquor and cheap cigarettes. Neither of these things you were above, by any means, but not on a Tuesday night when you have an exam in the morning. On top of your grades being atrocious, your roommate was downright terrible. Throwing dorm room parties constantly, always up at the worst hours, and messy. So incredibly messy. And the worst part is, she doesn’t even like you. She acted as if you were the one intruding on her.

You push through the group of girls in your way, ignoring the snide remarks, throwing your backpack onto your bed, fishing out your wallet, and immediately removing yourself from the room. You trudge over to the vending machine, hoping for some kind of food before you force yourself to sleep through the inevitably restless night. You grab some candy and turn, nearly bumping into another person. You mutter an apology and step to the side, engrossed in opening the packet of M&M’s.

“Hey you’re one of the girls in room 13 right?” The voice from behind you asks. You turn and see a vaguely familiar girl.

“Yeah,” you respond.

“You got a call at the payphone earlier,” she steps up to the vending machine. “Some guy named Eddie.”

Eddie.

Throughout the awful college experience you’d been enduring, your one saving grace had been Eddie Munson. You thank the girl and nearly race up to the one of the phones down the hall. You shove in some quarters quickly and punch in the all-too-familiar number. He picks up on the second ring.

“Hello?” you hear his voice answer, and heat flushes over you. But not the giddy, lovey-dovey heat you’d had when you and Steve would have your routine nightly chats, back when you were still with him. This was a different heat. Darker, more lustful.

The summer after you’d broken things off with Steve, you found yourself having a harder time moving on than you thought you would. The things you’d said to Steve you knew you didn’t mean. His hurt face swam into view every time you thought about it. It was haunting you, and you’d do anything to forget about it. One of your friends had suggested Eddie, being a drug dealer and all. You couldn’t recall who Eddie was exactly, but you knew he sold things that could take your mind off real life, so you were set. Soon, you found yourself not just picking up weed from him. It became smoking with each other and ordering a pizza, getting to know each other at a surface level, watching stupid movies and laughing at stupid things. You didn’t like him, definitely not in the way you liked Steve. However, you were very attracted to him. So, when he made advances one night you two smoked in his van out at Lover’s Lake, you most definitely weren’t going to stop him. It was just a one-time thing, you’d both agreed. Until he called you a week later. Then it started to happen more often. When you left for college, you both expected things would fizzle out. Oh well, you’d had your fun rebound.

Though, on a particular Friday you were getting weighed down by the toll college was taking on you, you found yourself calling him from your dorm, asking if he was free that night. Phone calls between you and Eddie started to become more frequent. Usually it was, “what are you up to this weekend?”, followed by him saying something along the lines of, “you should come visit. I got a new batch from Rick, and we should smoke it and see how long we can go without touching each other”. Because of this, you started to make occasional trips to Hawkins to smoke weed and hook up to cope and escape your personal hell that was freshman year.

“Hey, you” You smiled into the phone.

“I was starting to wonder if you were ever gonna call me back,” you could hear him smiling on the other end of the phone too, a lusty drawl to his voice you detected immediately. “You weren’t cheating on me by being smoked out by some other college stoner, right?” he teased. The thing you liked the most about you and Eddie’s agreement was that you both knew where you stood. There were no complicated feelings involved.

“You know I would never,” you fake-gasp.

“So, listen,” you hear him shift on the other side of the phone. “There’s this huge Halloween costume party this weekend here in Hawkins. I’m not one for Hawkins parties… but this one actually sounds like it might be fun. Wanna come?”

“Most definitely,” you nod. “Are we coordinating costumes?” you tease, fiddling with the phone cord.

“Well, I actually have an idea, but it’s kind of...”

“I expect nothing less from you,” you cut him off. He begins to ramble about some Motley Crüe music video that he loves and how you could dress as one of the ‘hot chicks’ and he could dress as one of the band members and it would be ‘totally awesome’. He explains the costume details to you in the best way a male brain can, and you make a mental note to stop by a video rental store tomorrow to rent the music video and see what you’re working with here.

“I’ll be there Friday night, costumed up.”

“Oh, I do like the sound of that,” he breathed out. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

✧

As you pull up to the party, Eddie makes a point to trot over to your van door and pull it open for you. Ever the gentleman, dressed head to toe in an undeniably incredible Tommy Lee costume.

“Why thank you,” you smile, taking his hand as you step out of the van. You could hear the bumping bass from the party all the way from where Eddie parked down the street.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Eddie started, giddily walking, already producing a joint and sparking up. “Your costume looks insane. I don’t know how you managed to do that within a few days,” he lets out a puff of smoke and hands you the joint.

You give a twirl and slip the joint past your lips. “It’s pretty easy to be out shopping for things when you wanna spend as least time in your dorm room as possible.” It was true. After your big exam, the rest of the week had gone by smoothly with you busying yourself by either being at the library or out shopping and crafting your costume.

You both pass the joint to each other a few times and before you know it, you’re both making your way through the people crowding the lawn. Just before you make your way into the house, Eddie stops to chat with some of his D&D buddies. You decide to leave him to his friends, it’s not like he’s your boyfriend or anything.

You already feel a bit tipsy, mentally thanking Eddie for roping you into taking a few tequila shots before leaving for the party. The inside of the house is dark and smoky, save for some flashing colorful lights illuminating the crowd of closely knit dancing bodies. You spot an opened, nearly full bottle of… Merlot? Was it merlot? You soon realized you didn’t care. Your fingers tighten around the sticky bottle, and you heartily swig it, the liquid grossly warm. Your feet take you to the edge of the crowd, immediately getting engulfed in the group of people, dancing to the music, happy and carefree to be anywhere but your dorm room.

You lose track of time. After a while of dancing on your own and progressively letting the wine, tequila, and weed all take their effect, in the haze of the dark, smoky crowd, you hear a wolf whistle over the music in your direction. You took a spin, expecting to meet eyes with Eddie.

Your blood ran cold, and you choked the swig of wine you’d just taken. Steve’s beautiful face was illuminated by only the occasional flashes of light in the large room, a lopsided, drunk smile on his face. He stood closely in front of you, slightly swaying to the music. You quickly take in his Scarface costume, a small voice in the back of your mind immediately assuming that a beautiful, blonde Elvira is close by.

You both stare at each other for a minute, you stand still amid drunk dancing teens. You quickly realize you are obscured from wherever Eddie’s view happened to be by the large crowd around you, but why was that your first thought? You try to glance around to see if Eddie had decided to come inside, or if he was anywhere in eyeshot so he could rescue you. But you’re feeling Steve’s eyes raking over your body. Heat flushes over you, and you clamp your thighs together, stifling the thoughts and feelings washing over you prompted by his seductive gaze.

“What do you want”, you ask, it coming out snarkier than you’d meant for it to. You’re just… uncomfortable under his heavy gaze. But not uncomfortable, like you didn’t want him near you. No, no. Moreso… uncomfortable because when you saw him looking at you the way he did, a heat ignited somewhere in you. It had been so long since you’d seen his face, nevertheless seen him look at you with such… lust? Could you even call it that?

“I’d been trying to get over to you for the past 17 songs,” he retorted over the music, just loud enough for you to hear. “You are hard to track down, you know that?” More teens were dancing into you, of course pushing you and Steve closer. Too close. So close that you could smell that he had been drinking whiskey and smoking cigarettes. And his cologne. The cologne you’d complimented one of the first times you’d hung out. The cologne that reminded you of being close to him. Smelling it on his neck when you had been kissing his collarbone…. Heat flushed over your cheeks, and you’d hope he didn’t see it in the rhythmic flashing of lights. A particularly hard jab from a girl dressed as Madonna hit your arm, causing your bra strap to fall to your arm.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” you choked out, frantically adjusting the strap of your top back to your shoulder, finally finding your voice again. You were suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Your hands grow sweaty as the wine bottle slips through your fingers. You take a swig, desperate to break the charged eye contact he was making with you.

“Did you happen to forget I still live here?” He snarked back, a goofy Steve Harrington smile on his lips.

“And so what if I did?” You respond, looking to try and brush past him. You need to find Eddie. He’s your crutch here. You need to remove yourself from the situation, because you know you’ll get in far too deep if he keeps looking at you this way. But his large frame steps in front of you, blocking you in between him and the group of girls behind you.

“You leave town onto bigger and better things and end up rightback next to me, huh?” He gives a cocky smirk and takes a sip from his cup, not breaking eye contact. “Funny how that works.”

“I’m just here visiting a friend,” You retort.

“Yeah, you know, I did hear about that…” He started, a hint of a scoff bubbling out through his lips. He leans close to your ear, one hand grazing the fabric on your forearm, dangerously close to the swell of your hip, the other hand clutched around his red solo cup. Beads of sweat form on your forehead, but not from the heat.

“Somebody told me you’re actually here with Eddie Munson,” he chuckled a bit, as if it was unbelievable. You pulled away and scanned his darkened and unreadable eyes, trying to get what he’s playing at. You notice the King Steve persona again, like you did the day you dumped him. You don’t know it, but something inside him flipped when he saw you dancing on the dancefloor, skirt riding up your thigh, bra strap slipping down your arm.

“Why do you care? I’m sure there’s some girl around here you brought,” you play it off like it doesn’t sting your tongue to say. You wanted to know so badly why he was asking. Did he care? Was he going to make fun of you? Was he hurt? Jealous?

“I just didn’t think he was your type, you know…” He persisted, raising his cup to his face, a dark smile starting to form as he speaks. “I mean… now that I think about it, something about him reminds me of Nancy. I think it’s the curly hair…” He said with a wink and a swig of his drink. You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. You immediately knew what he was getting at. You’d been so insecure in your entire relationship with him that you were just his Nancy rebound. Idiotic Tommy and Carol would never let you hear the end of it with how different you were from Nancy, and it ate away at you and made you so insecure. Because you weren’t like Nancy Wheeler, like, at all. And with this comment he was not only insulting you, but your choice in having Eddie Munson as your date to this party. This was his response to the low blow you had made before leaving his house the day you broke up with him. You take a deep breath in, releasing your arms and shoving his chest with the top of the wine bottle.

“Was that the best insult you could come up with, Stevie? Is Eddie Munson making King Steve that insecure?” you mock him, the alcohol finally giving you your fiery attitude. “You know what, he may not be as manly as you think you are but trust me…” you drunkenly grab a fistful of his shirt and bring him close to lean towards his ear, “he’s more of a man than you ever were. Especially in bed,” you purr. You release his shirt and shove him away.

You’re expecting him to be stunned, to be speechless. King Steve, dethroned. But to your horror, he gives a dark, dry laugh.

The opening riff to a new song starts playing, and the crowd cheers, causing Madonna to bump into you so harshly that you’re thrown into a compromising position. Steve places his hands on your arms, steadying the both of you, so your back close to him, and he starts moving with the music.

“Oh, I’m not worried about him competing with the way I made you feel,” he leans in, millimeters away from your ear, hands sliding dangerously close to your hips. “I’m sure Eddie Munson doesn’t know you well enough to know the right ways to pleasure you like I did. Tell me,” he breathes, hot and close to your ear. Shivers run down your arms. “Do you let him use those pink handcuffs on you? You know… the ones I bought for you?”

Your mouth goes dry, numbly moving as his hands guide your body to the music with his. A gasp hitches in your throat as you feel him closer behind you.

“Just give me tonight… for old time’s sake. I think I need to remind you just how good I made you feel.” A shiver runs up your arm as his hand runs down your arm, gripping the wine bottle with his hand over the top of yours. He brings it up to his lips, your hand trapped under his. Once he swigs a few gulps, he slides the bottle down the front of your body, letting go of the bottle, but his touch lingering on your collarbone.

Maybe it’s the weed, maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the fact that the song that just started playing is one of your favorites and Steve knows it. But something in you chases the high that his touch is giving you. So, what the hell. You give in. You know it’s what you want, deep down, even if you were stone cold sober. You couldn’t deny that nights spent at Eddie’s trailer, long after Eddie had fallen asleep, memories of Steve haunted your memories. You couldn’t deny it, even though you wanted to pretend it didn’t keep you up some nights.

You begin to sway to the music, Steve’s strong body behind you guiding you to the rhythm. His touch never leaving you. It felt so right, like returning to a proper stasis after chaos for so long. It felt right and comfortable and normal. His hands wander your curves, and you throw your head back. Steve knew your body in a way Eddie never had. Intimacy with Steve wasn’t just about immediate sexual satisfaction. It was about intimacy. Steve had cared about you, actually cared. He wanted to make you feel good. You knew the persona he was playing up tonight was a front to hide how he really felt. He yearned for you, especially yearned to make you feel good. You’d refused to admit it since you started hooking up with Eddie, but Steve had made you feel good in a far different way. And the fact that he knew it simultaneously pissed you off and turned you on.

You feel Steve’s hand ghost up your arm and to your shoulder, and almost instinctively, as if you were back to your old ways, you let your head lull to the side. Steve’s lips immediately attach to the spot on your neck that he knows you love. You let out a moan, inaudible under the music. Your fingers tangle into his thick hair, willing him to keep going. His hands lightly trail up the front of your thin shirt, and you can feel his fingers brush against your nipple. And suddenly, he detaches his lips from you, much to your dismay.

You turn your head, sighing in protest, and turn to him, inches away from your face. His drunken breath fans across your face, intoxicating you more than any weed you smoked or wine you swigged tonight. The lights flash from behind his head, lighting up his beautiful features. His eyes fall to your lips, and his large hand moves from your chest to cup your cheek, and he pulls your face forcefully to meet your lips to his. He wastes no time making the kiss as sloppy as the environment you’re in calls for, his hands running wild. To your surprise, you feel your hand gripping his shirt, your body aching to get him even closer. You give into the sensation and let your hands tentatively rake down the front of his shirt. You waste no time slipping under his shirt, hands dancing up his torso, Eddie a long, distant memory. But your lips grow cold as he pulls away. He sloppily smirks at you, knowing he has you in the palm of his hand. You hate him for it.

“Ditch Munson and come home with me,” he says, still close to you. Under the smug façade he puts on, you can see that his eyes are almost desperate. Your brain tries to formulate a sentence to decline, but you look at his face and see Steve’s real self through the mask. Not King Steve, but the real, genuine Steve. The one you love. Lips puffy from crashing into yours, cheeks flushed, hair tussled from where your fingers had raked through it. The smell on his breath intoxicates you. He feels safe. Familiar. Something about him you can’t resist. You never could resist.

“Steve, I don’t want to get you tangled up in something complicated,” you find the words tumbling out of your mouth, suddenly feeling guilty for dumping him only to end up getting involved with another Hawkins boy. What a slap in the face that must have been. But he leans in and kisses you deeply, stopping your train of thought. When he pulls away, he keeps his face close to yours.

“Let’s worry about this in the morning, yeah?” He nods, encouraging you. You know you want to too; you just worry you’re going to hurt him in the process. His hand finds its way to your cheek again, his thumb brushing against your chin. “Let tonight just be… tonight, okay?”

You gaze up at him, brain racing through a million answers to give him in the span of a millisecond. But you respond with the answer you know deep down that you really want to say.

“Let’s get out of here,” You slide your arm around his and start to push through the crowd.

please do not repost anywhere. please do not plagiarize my work as your own. please do not use my writing for any AI purposes.

299 notes · View notes

idlerin · 11 months ago

Text

love sick — 07. pretty please

romance 101; guideline #4 — communication is important (04/24/XX note: not overused, just real)

note: i know that house parties are very uncommon in japan but let's just add this in for sole fiction, also reminder that images used as reader doesn't depict their actual features/appearance! just imagine using the same clothes hehe

the final whistle signaled the TU blazer’s win, gleeful cheers and shouting were what filled the arena and you couldn’t help but jump up and down, getting caught up in the momentum as well. your hands gripped the railing as your eyes scanned the area looking for your fake boyfriend, you eventually found him talking to atsumu at the side of the court. the latter had then at a sudden pointed in your direction with the familiar stupid smile on his face that only made your eyes squint wondering what they were talking about.

you met suna’s gaze as collateral when your eyes shifted from previously sneering at atsumu. suna was looking at you with that same old deadpan expression on his face, you then decided to flash him a smile and blew him a kiss. you mouthed ‘catch it’ lifting your arm and motioning what he should do, he obediently followed which made you laugh.

“mhm,” you hear semi hum from beside you, he was leaning on the railing observing your little exchange with a brow raised.

“what?” you ask, he only shook his head as an answer. weird.

“I’ll assume you’re going to the after-party?” semi said instead, you blinked trying to recall where it was taking place. you vaguely remember atsumu inviting you guys there around a week or two ago. they usually have one after a big match, you didn't even know this match is one of those "big matches" of the season, whatever that means. semi usually goes because his bandmates drag him there, he tries to drag you along (and sometimes succeeds, albeit rarely) but you were usually firm about staying hauled up in your room.

“the.. after-party.. right! I have to go there,” you ponder, it would be a bit strange if suna’s girlfriend didn’t go to a party celebrating his team’s win. you didn’t know if suna was a party go-er but making an appearance once wouldn’t be too bad.

“so now you can’t use yona of the dawn as an excuse,” semi referenced the time you said you couldn’t go with him because you were going to reread a manga you liked.

“hey that’s valid, it’s over two hundred chapters and I need time for that,” you defend yourself, arms out in the air. in the corner of your eye, some people kept looking at you, you could only assume that it was because of suna’s last name plastered on the back of your shirt.

you take this as a great opportunity once again, “wait I’ll go and greet rinnie! he should be waiting for me!” you say louder than needed as you pat semi’s shoulder and give him a wink before passing by him and running down the stairway.

you admit that you find it rather amusing to act clingy. you have always been clingy to your friends so it wasn’t really like stepping out of your comfort zone.

you ran quickly once you saw suna who was now talking to a teammate you didn’t know (you briefly thought where the hell atsumu went but that’s not one of your priorities right now) as you called out, “rinnie!” with a big smile on your face.

suna turned in your direction, almost faltering but caught you just in time when you jumped on him for an embrace, “congrats on winning the game! I knew you guys would win!”

"hey," was his only response, most likely because he didn't know what else to say. one of his hands that were placed underneath your thighs to hoist you up was raised to your waist as he placed you down, you took this as a cue to converse with his teammate.

"hi! I'm [name]!" you introduce yourself cheerfully with your arms still looped around suna's neck. you notice the teammate eyeing the skinship you've been initiating with suna. you presume this was because it'd still be new to him seeing suna allowing a person to be all over him. hm.

"yo, I'm hotaru. I've already heard lots about you," he winks, crossing his arms while looking at suna teasingly as if you weren't there. It brought a laugh out of you as you used one of your hands to point at suna, acting bewildered.

"from him?" you decided to take it up a notch, poking suna's cheek. at this point, you were just enjoying playing around with him since you knew he would never let anyone do this to him otherwise.

"of course not, bro doesn't like to share," hotaru laughed.

"I don't have to," suna replies, he lightly pinches you using the hand that was wrapped around your waist. you didn't waver, you continued to have a big smile on your face as you used your left hand to lightly tug on the back of his hair as payback.

"you're hard to not know, resident cupid," hotaru comments, which makes you genuinely bashful for a second.

before you could respond, suna beat you to it, "you go ahead."

at first, you thought he was talking to you, but then hotaru responds, "ah sure, don't take too long or the coach will get mad," he waves before disappearing from view.

"we're going to have a short meeting then I'll have a quick shower," suna answers the question you haven't been able to voice out yet. that’s going to take around an hour then, you think.

"oh," you purse your lips, "what do I do while waiting then?" you let your arms fall because it was starting to ache.

"you can leave?" suna suggests like a smartass, he picks up a water bottle on one of the benches.

"are we not going to the after-party? I think we should, don't you guys host those?" you say, a skip in your step as you follow him.

"I forgot about that, and the players aren't the ones who host them. you think we have the time?" suna gave you that ‘duh’ look once again, rude, "It's going to start later, around eight or nine."

you check your phone and see it was only six.

"I'll go back to the dorms and get ready first then," you say, already thinking of what you should wear that would be both comfortable and stylish. probably some jeans and the first cute top you find.

"okay. just text me when you're done so I can pick you up," he says, looking off to the side, you were almost tempted to see what caught his attention.

"sounds like a plan, boss," you threw that one line in as a jab, it made the corner of his lips twitch and you were glad for the tiny reaction. an idea pops in your head and you catch him off guard, on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek, "see you later."

you step back and watch him just stare at you, you give him one last small smile before turning to leave.

as you approach, you watch as suna stares you down in the lobby of your residence, you ask—but not before looking around you (thankfully you were just surrounded by a few people minding their own business)—in a hushed tone, “why are you frowning?”

“I’m not frowning,” suna states the obvious in the same hushed tone as you, because he was indeed, not frowning but there was something in the air around him you couldn’t pinpoint.

“you practically are, care to share why you’re in a mood?” you reach out your hand to him, and he looks at it once before looking back at you, you shake your hand again, he finally gets the hint and holds it.

this is where he decides to just start pulling you along towards his car, ignoring your question, “not going to share then, okay, I understand,” you murmur under your breath as he opens the door for the passenger seat.

“thank you,” you say as you go inside and suna goes around the car to get in the driver’s seat. Something clearly happened in the two hours you weren’t together, you pushed down your curiosity because it was none of your business.

“you have to promise me another thing when we get there,” you bring up a topic in an attempt to lighten up the mood.

suna starts the car and points to you, using a sharp tone he says, “what is it? and put on your seatbelt.”

“sorry,” you hurriedly put your seatbelt on while recalling another trope in the car where the main guy puts the seatbelt on the female lead and they stare in each other’s eyes and it’s usually a scene regarded with tension and—you were getting sidetracked, your fake boyfriend was obviously not in the mood and you weren’t sure what you could and couldn’t say, “anyways, you should do everything I ask when we get there. we have to prove to them that you’re smitten with me.”

“are you asking me to act like some loyal puppy dog?” he begins to drive and you look out your side of the car window, seeing the familiar greenery you pass by every day fade into the background. atsumu briefed you about the location of the party and everything through a call earlier because he was already there, it was being held in one of the houses of a player’s friend’s cousin (you don’t completely understand the relations) and it was a fifteen minute drive away.

“well, if you want to put it that way, then yeah,” just eight more minutes of this slightly suffocating silence, you don’t know what happened to him but it must have been pretty bad.

“sure,” was the only thing he said before the car ride was engulfed in silence once more.

you begin to pick on the hem of your shirt, the eerie quietness was starting to make you feel uncomfortable. usually at times like these you would think up conversation starters but you didn’t know if attempting to make conversation would make it worse.

a couple of minutes passed but it felt like an eternity, soon enough you were blocks away from a huge white house. If the people going in and out weren’t proof that this was the right destination, the loud music surely was. this does look like an ideal place to have a party, it was isolated but near the college.

you haven’t been to a lot of places aside from when eita invites you to watch his gigs from time to time, or when shimizu takes you around (when she actually has free time), or when atsumu ropes you in to going to weird events (like a trampoline one two months ago). kageyama was completely volleyball brained and surprisingly, you had to be the one to drag him to places. despite being known as campus cupid and making a lot of friends and interacting with a lot of people in general because of it, there were really only a few people in your circle.

“how long do we have to be here?” suna asks, turning off the engine. you glanced at him and saw how he had his deadpan expression again.

“an hour I guess?” you were a bit more hesitant with the way you spoke, you cleared your throat, “I’ll be more touchy once we go outside, is that okay?”

“yeah?” suna questioned, removing his seatbelt and taking out his keys, “we’ve already talked about this, anything is fine. you were doing it just fine earlier.”

“ah yeah, sorry, it’s just I didn’t know if you were up for it right now,” you grasped at the edge of your seat, you started to look everywhere but him.

“why do you think that?” did he really have to ask that? you flash a smile.

“nothing. let’s go,” you awkwardly scramble out of your seatbelt and try to open the car door but to no avail.

“[name],” suna said.

“yes?” you managed to squeak out.

“you’re acting nervous,” he points out.

you purse your lips, “no I’m not,” heavy with denial.

“yes you are,” he insists.

“no I’m not,” you deny again, a shake of your head.

“you can’t even look me in the eye. you realized you have feelings for me? that was quick,” he began to tease.

your eyebrows furrowed, “no way!” an appalled expression on your face as you glared at him.

“there we go,” suna nodded, “look me in the eye. It’d be weird if you couldn’t even be able to do that, much less make them believe we’re actually a couple.”

“it’s not my fault okay! I don’t know how to act around you when you’re… nevermind. let's just do this,” you try to open the door again and succeed this time.

you start walking towards the house when you feel an arm wrap around your shoulder, “don’t go ahead and leave your boyfriend.”

suna said this in a more playful tone which made you relax, you caught his eye and he was looking at you as if waiting for you to say something, “you ready, rinnie bear?” you smirk and decide this was much better. you’ll ignore the strange interactions from earlier, you should focus on facing a bunch of other things after all, like how to interact with his teammates for one, hopefully atsumu would make it easier for you, kageyama likely isn’t here because he wasn’t allowed (you don’t think he’d be here even if he were).

“you have to quit that, couldn’t you have chosen something more normal?” suna swiftly guided you out of the way when you were about to bump into someone. you hadn’t even noticed you were about to go in the front door now, the music was louder than ever.

“like what? babe?” you laugh, shouting a bit.

“yeah, babe,” suna smirks and looks in front of you guys. that’s when you see a familiar looking girl—one of his admirers, she didn’t even acknowledge you guys and turned to walk away.

your mouth hung open, “you totally did that on purpose,” you accuse.

“no,” he shook his head, guiding you more towards the middle where you see a group of guys huddled and drinking, “was convenient though.”

“sweetheart!” atsumu hollered once he saw you, he was already drunk. his face was slightly flushed because of his alcohol intake but he looked like he was still sane enough, you gauged.

“she’s not your sweetheart,” suna rebutted, acting like the overprotective boyfriend type, you approved.

someone from beside atsumu started cackling, “you heard that, ‘tsum, not your sweetheart,” clearly he was getting amused.

“hey ‘tsumu,” you acknowledge your friend who was pouting, “unfortunately, you can’t call me sweetheart anymore, my rinnie won’t allow,” you pretend to be disappointed, leaning on suna’s chest.

“atsumu, you owe us,” one of the guys on the further left of the couch holding a can of beer said, “you didn’t tell us suna was dating anyone! for—how long has it been?” the question was directed at you.

“about five months now,” you say the first number that comes to mind, you knew you should’ve discussed your relationship lore with him first. you’ll bring it up when you two are alone.

“almost half a year! and this guy didn’t bother to tell us anything,” the guy shakes his head.

“It’s my privacy,” suna shifts his hand on your shoulder down to your waist, “atsumu, give [name] your seat.”

atsumu, who was bringing out his phone, “eh?” you then meet eyes with him, he raised his hands in defeat and stood up. he motioned exaggeratedly for you to sit down, “here’s the seat, ‘yer highness.”

“thanks,” you take a seat and look up at the two guys at your disposal, maybe this was the right time to use your newly acquired superpower (ordering suna around), you were starting to get a bit thirsty, “rin?” you call out, he was mid-argument with atsumu.

“yeah?” it was comical how he switched up, glad to know he was in tune with you.

“can you get me some water?” you ask sweetly, the others are silent as they watch the exchange between you two.

“after I get you a seat?”

“It was my seat,” atsumu comments on the side. the both of you ignore him.

“pretty please?” you said, giving him a teasing smile. remember when you said you would do anything I asked, we had an agreement. do it. do it. your eyes seemed to say.

“alright, I’ll be quick,” suna said, he then looked at his teammates, “don’t give her a hard time,” he waved them off before leaving.

“can you believe that guy? he would grumble if I asked him to hand me a towel,” atsumu complains, leaning his head back to emphasize his exasperation.

“we found suna’s weakness,” the same guy from earlier cackled.

you proceeded to have a conversation with him—who you learned was named reiki—and the other guys. they were all nice to you with the exception of atsumu who kept bantering with you. you shut him down every time, which was partly because he could never think of a reply quickly enough in his current state. they continued to tell you all sorts of antics suna initiated in practices, like the time he started an argument about who was the most attractive player on the team, there were real-time polls and everything.

“I’m curious!” shiizu exclaimed, you and the others turned your attention to him, “how do your matchmaking services work?”

“you finally interested in having a love life?” atsumu says, a brow raised.

“well,” you start, “a lot of people seem to think that I can magically get two people together, but that’s not really the case,” the other guys started to quiet down to listen to you, “usually, a person would email me with their worries and I’d try to respond in the best way I can. sometimes they bring up wanting advice or I ask if they want advice and it starts there. sometimes they would want help in person or wanting to do this or that for someone and I’d recommend things or brainstorm ideas with them. it all depends on whether their feelings get reciprocated or not. that’s all I can say about the ‘matchmaking’ part.”

“ooh that’s cool, you put a lot of time and effort into it then,” shiizu nods, thinking contemplatively.

“yeah,” a genuine smile starts to form, “people who are already in relationships also approach me just for some advice or like just wanting to sort out their feelings. I’m just glad if I could be of help.”

“how’d suna end up with an angel with that personality of his,” reiki shakes his head.

“rin is really sweet,” you put your fake boyfriend on a pedestal with just one phrase.

“sweet and rin are not words you hear in a single sentence,” shiizu points out.

a whole conversation starts about how lemons were sweeter than rin, you defend him to the best of your abilities by saying fake scenarios. like how he holds your hand without having to ask (after having a staring contest) and how he likes it when you call him pet names (because he would literally want anything other than rinnie bear).

suna was taking a while just to get you water so you began searching for him, he was supposed to get back within minutes and you were supposed to show off how obediently he would follow you. mid-conversation with jai—one of the players—you excuse yourself, “uhm I’ll go to the bathroom for a bit, can you tell rin when he gets here?”

“alright will do, he is taking a while,” reiki nods, “the bathroom is just over there at the end of the hall,” he points to the side.

you nod and smile in thanks, you wander around the bodies of people laughing and having fun with their friends, but to no avail, still no sign of rin. how difficult was it to get a glass of water? you were starting to get a bit worried that something happened.

soon, you were closer to the bathroom, you might as well retouch your makeup while here too. as you passed by a few more people, ‘excuse me’s and ‘sorry’s for accidentally stepping on people were prevalent. suddenly you felt a hand grab your wrist. startled, you looked up at who it was.

unluckily for you, it was one of the least people you wanted to see, terushima.

masterlist — previous | next

❥ fun facts !

[name] and atsumu once did one of those pay and bake your own cakes.

atsumu and kageyama have a 'friendly' rivalry on the team because they're both setters (still good friends if non-volleyball context).

semi did not go to the party because he crashed after the game and overslept.

love sick ! a suna rintarou social media au

synopsis. cupid! calling cupid! as the resident matchmaker slash hopeless romantic of tokyo university, you are the person people look for to get love advice or to set them up with the love of their lives. when suna rintarou comes to you asking for the opposite, to help fend people away from trying to get with him, to the extremes of even asking to fake date you, you couldn't refuse! mostly because you did owe him since he was on the receiving end of a bunch of your clients’ unsuccessful love efforts (hey, you do warn them your matchmaking only has a 62.3% success rate).

a/n — love sick has been my only work so far where i actually let them play volleyball IFGFBDJSUDFHUDI i write abt fictional volleyball players doing everything but play volleyball btw the party scene is like completely inspired by my friends stories abt their experiences in bars and stuff so its def going to be inaccurate. and i still dont have a phone to use for smaus by the way hehe.

taglist is OPEN ! + (1/3) @yas-mjm @agirlwholovesalot @yenqa @fairywriter-oracle @noideawhothatis @alienvarmint @renardiererin @cheezitwh0re @yaboiithewreck @zephestia @nicerthanu @wolffmaiden @2baddies-1porsche @bluegrey02 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @lylovw @fo-love @cloudsvna @haruskatana @apinu @coyloves @rockleeisbaeeee @geombyu @girlkissersco @reveusecherie @mwhahahalasagna @megumiif @erenjvegerrr @thechaosoflonging @rintarousgirl @ris-krispie @kamikokii @complexivelovely @justabreadslice @hearts4faey @yuzurins @eleanorheartschishiya @hearts4itoshi @justsomeonewhoyoudontknow @rijhi @sleepystrwbrryy @snail-squasher @seiamor @wave2love @le000xxgrd @iuspired @theidontknowmehn @linmabbe @rntrsuna @tenaciouswritersheep

if i can not tag you, please change your mention settings to “everyone” thank you!

224 notes · View notes

dailynnt · 4 months ago

Text

FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

⊹ Summary: Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.

⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

⊹ 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

⊹📘 Number of part: 19/30

⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words.

⊹ 👩🏼‍💻 From the author: Guys thank you for being with me and loving this story so much. I wrote part 19 and for some reason the second half of it was so hard for me. Read with pleasure and tell me how you like it, it is so valuable to me ❤️‍🔥🙏🏻

⊹ 🫂 Dedication: For you, my love @myjungkookthighs. You are my favorite person 😘🥰 You know that I appreciate you so much and love you🥰💜 Bright times will come and you will be happy, my love 🥺💜

⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

⊹ 📋 Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou, @nikkinikj, @lovelyyylunaa222, @jiminiemanura, @jalexad, @kelsyx33, @bhonbhon, @unholyforjk (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

Part 19. Kidnapped under the glow of fireworks.

The sound of the xylophone announced an incoming call. You dropped what you were doing in front of the mirror and almost ran to the couch where your phone was lying. The screen showed a photo of Jungkook with the caption "🐰 Jungkook". You pressed the green button.

"Hello?" - You answered.

"Baby, are you ready? I'm on my way." - You hear on the other end of the line. Jungkook was supposed to pick you up at 10 p.m. to take you to a party to celebrate the opening of a new club in Itaewon that Jimin will be running. It would also was a New Year party. So Jungkook didn't lie to your parents, and it turns out that you two were indeed invited to the opening of the nightclub.

You had to wait until Jungkook came to pick you up, because about an hour ago he told you, (alredy was dressed for a party) that he had to be away for an hour, and that you should get dressed and wait for him. He was not a minute late, and you look at your watch and realize that the hour passed quickly and you barely had time to get ready.

"I'm ready, I'm putting on my coat and coming to you." - You say affectionately. You hear his gentle "waiting" in the phone and go to the front door.

Today you are wearing a dark green satin dress with an asymmetrical hem and a neckline that reveals your thigh too high. The dress has a beautiful low neckline that emphasizes your sexuality without making you look vulgar, and thin straps that add to your fragility.

On your feet you put on exquisite gold high-heeled shoes. You put on nylon stockings instead of uncomfortable tights. The image is completed by gold jewelry and hair gathered in a beautiful bun.

The makeup is simple with an emphasis on the eyes. Long black arrows against a background of subtle golden shadows and lips of warm brown with a slight reddish tint.

You didn't dress very wintery, but this is the dress you dreamed of wearing for a similar holiday. You throw the coat over your shoulders and for some reason you hear Jungkook's voice in your head, protesting that you dressed too lightly.

You leave the house and immediately see Jungkook's Mercedes. It's cold outside, so you hurry to get into the car to stay warm. The side windows of the car are tinted, so you don't immediately see that Jungkook is on the phone. When you get inside, you give your boyfriend a smile and see that he doesn't take his eyes off you. You're flattered by this look of admiration.

"I'll be in Itaewon in 20 minutes. Are you there yet?" - You hear him talking to someone on the phone. He's probably talking to Jimin.

"Yes, I’m on place. Hoseok and Taehyung aren't here yet. By the way, Yoongi-hyun just arrived." - Jimin's voice is distorted by the cell phone. This confirms your guess.

"Yoongi-hyun? Does he go to these kinds of parties?" - Jungkook asks, still staring at you. His gaze runs over your face, down to your figure, and finally stops at your gold shoes.

"Usually not, but he did me the honor of not refusing the invitation. Now he's in the VIP lounge, where all of us will be celebrating. Have you picked up the Y/N yet?" - Jimin asks.

"Yes. We're on our way." - Jungkook replies, although you are still standing outside your house. You raise your eyebrows in surprise as Jungkook approaches you, ready to kiss you.

"I'm waiting, buddy." - Jimin says and hangs up the phone. Jungkook immediately touches your lips, just pressing his lips to yours. Although you were about to fight back, stopping him with your hands. Your kiss lasted for a few seconds and Jungkook pulled away.

"Baby, you are divine. Are you making me feel nervous again? I'm going to be jealous of every glimpse who lines on you." - He says seriously. You smile broadly, stretching your lips and drawing Jungkook's attention to them again.

"You know I don't need anyone but you. Then you shouldn't worry about anyone. They don't stand a chance against you." - You say using a flirtatious voice. Jungkook smiles, pleased with your words, which calm his jealousy.

"I want to wipe off your lipstick, can you put on lipstick again after?" - Jungkook asks, intending to capture your lips. You stop him in time, putting your hands on your chest.

"No. If you wipe off my lipstick now, it will ruin my makeup. Let's do it a little later. Let me wear my makeup for at least the first hour." - You ask. Jungkook doesn't listen. He overpowers your arms and connects your lips. This kiss lasts also not long, no more than a second.

"Your lips are so luscious with this lipstick. You only have an hour, and then I'll definitely wipe it off." - Jungkook sits up straight, leaving you in peace, but for not a long moment at this night, and then he starts to drive off, pressing the gas pedal.

You're almost at the entrance to Itaewon. You check your friends' New Year's greeting texts and suddenly an unfamiliar number pops up. In the push notification, you can see the beginning of a phrase:

"Candy, take care. There will be a lot of people connected to the mafia at the party..."

Then the text message breaks off and you either have to go read it or click on the message for a long time to see it in full. You immediately erase it from push notifications so that Jungkook doesn't see it by accident. Doohoon knows where you'll be. He hasn't stopped following you, justifying it as "caring". However, it looks like stalking, without exaggeration.

You wanted to tell Jungkook right away when you met Doohoon in the parking lot of your building a couple of days ago. But that night, Jungkook came home late and was in a bad mood. He was tired and irritated. You knew it had something to do with the meeting with Namjoon. You didn't ask for details, but Jungkook just said that everything was fine and you shouldn't worry about anything.

You thought that if Jungkook wanted to, he would tell you everything himself. If you had told Jungkook that day about Doohoon, he would have been angry and no one knows what he would have done. Of course you'll tell Jungkook, but after the new year. You didn't want to spoil the already barely noticeable holiday mood.

You arrive in one of the most upscale neighborhoods in Itaewon, where the new Jimin’s nightclub is located on a wide street lit up with neon signs and colorful garlands. The huge doors of the club, decorated with the elegant ‘MUSE’ logo with delicate black marble details, led to a real gem of the city's nightlife. At the entrance, you noticed guests in luxurious outfits.

Jungkook helped you out of the Mercedes and you headed for the entrance. Jungkook, dressed in a black fitted suit with a silk shirt and no tie, exuded confidence and low-key charisma.

When you entered the club, you were greeted by a luxurious hall with high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and modern design. In the center was a large illuminated dance floor, and around the perimeter were VIP areas, fenced off from the main hall by translucent curtains. The bar shone with golden details, and the aroma of exotic cocktails was in the air. The music, chosen by Jimin himself, was loud and rhythmic, setting the tone for the party.

You were a little nervous, because the party definitely brought together many influential guests - obviously familiar with the mafia world, who exchanged glances and gestures, understanding each other without words. In the crowd, one could see wealthy businessmen and women dressed in designer dresses that shone like diamonds.

Jimin appeared to greet you. His image was spectacular: an exquisite suit with bright accents that emphasized his confidence. When he saw you, he immediately opened his arms to you. You, in turn, surprisingly forgot who Jimin really was and hugged him like a good friend who was nice and caring to you.

"I am glad to see you. Take off your clothes and go to VIP area number one." - Jimin said.

Jungkook led you to the cloakroom, which was off to the side of the main hall. He helped you take off your coat and took your clothes to a woman who was sitting there to receive your clothes. Jungkook was only wearing a suit and it looked like his coat was left in the car.

You didn't notice the appraising gaze of your boyfriend, who was looking at you, studying your image. You took a few steps away, nervously fiddling with your green handbag. You smoothed down your dress with your hand and straightened your curls. The warmth of Jungkook's body, which was pressed against your back, almost made you screaming. His large tattooed hand rested on your stomach, and his lips touched your ear.

"Baby, is it legal to be this sexy at a New Year's party?" - You hear the vibration of Jungkook's voice.

"What are you doing, people can see us!" - You protested quietly, trying to move away.

"I'm not sure that in an hour you'll just be without lipstick. I would do other things to you." - He whispers in your ear. A wave of warmth runs through your body. He's not should’ve to seduce you right before the party starts. You need to calm his heat. It's only been two days without sex, and he's so impatient.

"You should wait until we get home. That'll give you an excuse not to be so long, right?" - You suggest. Jungkook purrs in your ear in affirmation. He gives you a quick kiss on the shoulder and finally lets go.

VIP area #1 at Jimin’s Club was a true embodiment of luxury and elegance. You tensed up feeling the pathos of this place, just like you did at Niseko's during the Christmas party.

Located on an elevation with a panoramic view of the dance floor, it was isolated from the main hall by a tinted glass partition, creating an atmosphere of privacy. Inside, there were soft semicircular sofas made of emerald velvet, which surrounded small tables made of black marble with gold inlays. An elegant crystal chandelier hung above the area, illuminated by neon, adding soft, cozy light to the space.

Tall ficuses in stylish black vases stood in the corners of the room, and there were interactive LED panels on the walls that showed exciting abstract patterns, changing colors depending on the rhythm of the music. Each table was equipped with a button to call a personal waiter, and special soundproofing allowed people to talk quietly without shouting over the music.

There were many people in the hall who were obviously important guests of Jimin. It seems that they were not only "businessmen" or influential people, but also idols and actors, most likely to attract more attention to the new place.

You saw Jin, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jimin in the hall, talking about something cheerfully and animatedly. Jungkook put his arm around your waist and you felt calm, feeling him so close.

Walking in the direction of these people, you unconsciously repeated everything you knew about them. You saw these people in a new way now and had to behave naturally. They are all close to Namjoon. They are some of the most powerful people in the Korean underworld. Why are you among them?

You look at Jungkook and see that he is calm. Does he trust these people so much that he's not afraid to bring you here? You reassure yourself that no matter what happens to you, Jungkook is there to protect you.

"How did you get here faster than us?" - Jungkook asks with a smile on his lips. You also pull your lips into a smile and greet the guys. "I thought because of the traffic in Gangnam, you guys would arrive at the chimes." - Jin, Hoseok, and Taehyung greet you warmly and they take turns hugging you. You are a little confused. Taehyung is the only one you know well, so his hug is the only one that feels good.

"You look amazing." - He says, emphasizing this with a slight nod. You shyly touched your ear in thanks. Jungkook gave Taehyung a murderous look and Taehyung laugh, annoying his friend.

You all went to a table with several people. Among them, a short man caught your attention the most. He was reserved and looked bored, almost apathetic. When everyone approached the table, they took turns greeting the man. Jungkook shook the man's hand and bowed slightly. The man, as if he were his older brother, clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

When your eyes met, you unconsciously took half a step back. His calm and cold look gave you the feeling that he could see right through everyone standing in front of him. His sharp features were impenetrable, but his eyes hid something dark and almost dangerous.

You felt insecure, as if you were under a microscope. Your intuition told you that you were looking at a person who could read others as easily as they read a book. You looked down away from him for a long moment to hide your nervousness, but you felt your shoulders tense under an invisible pressure.

Jimin smiled and gestured to you, introducing you when Jungkook finally stepped away from the elder Hyun. It was none other than Min Yoongi. And you knew it before Jimin even said his name.

"Yoongi-hyun, this is Y/N. She's a good friend of ours, and Jungkook's best friend. She's his couple for tonight." - Jimin introduced you. His eyes are curious, but no emotion is reflected on his face.

"Nice to meet you." - He said dryly but politely, nodding.

"Likewise." - You say with a slight smile on your lips to hide your tension.

Yoongi looked at Jungkook, who was standing next to you, and a faint smile flashed across his eyes. He seemed to appreciate you as something valuable that mattered to Jungkook.

"Interesting," - He suddenly said. No one reacted to this because you were the only one who heard it. He went back to talking to one of the other guests, you, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin went to the next table. Hoseok, who was supposed to be at your table, said that you'd join him in a few minutes.

The party at the club was a real extravaganza. Itaewon, known for its nightlife, was witnessing something special this time: Jimin's new establishment became an epicenter of luxury intertwined with something modern and youthful. Music vibrated through the walls. There were so many guests that every area of the club, even the VIP rooms, were overcrowded. But at the same time, everything remained surprisingly organized.

By midnight, Jimin stepped onto a small elevated podium near the main dance floor. He held a glass of champagne in his hand, and his smile shone like a reflection of bright New Year's fireworks.

"I'm glad you're all here tonight!" - He began, his voice clear and full of emotion. "We are finally in Itevon. This club is my personal creation, so please give it a lot of love. Let's celebrate this year together and make it unforgettable!" - The audience burst into applause, and Jimin raised his glass. "To the new year and a new beginning!".

At midnight, everyone was simultaneously counting down the last seconds to the New Year. 10... 9... 8... You squeezed Jungkook's hand, smiling and trying not to think about how magical this moment was. 3... 2... 1... The guests shouted "Happy New Year!" and confetti sprayed in the air, and glasses filled with sparkling champagne.

It was already past one in the morning. You drank the champagne without even realizing how strong it was. The drink had a delicate fruity aroma and a smooth taste that hid its power. Four glasses later, and in the hot atmosphere around you, your cheeks turned pink and your eyes shone.

You chatted with Taehyung and Hoseok, who seemed to be on a mission to entertain you. You talked a lot and you laughed almost constantly. They did whatever made you feel good.

After a while, you realized that Jungkook was not participating in the conversation. You smiled as you noticed him quietly drinking whiskey, sitting next to you on the couch, silently watching the crowd.

"You're too serious for a New Year's party." - You whisper playfully, leaning into Jungkook's ear. The surprisingly strong champagne allowed you to finally relax and forget about the people around you. Jungkook smiled at your tone.

"The most important, that you have fun, my baby." - Jungkook whispered in your ear.

"You should have fun too." - You said without leaning into Jungkook. You suddenly jumped up and held out your hand to him. "Let's go to the main dance floor, I want to dance." - You said a little loudly. He looked at your hand and then grabbed it, standing up. At that moment, Jimin came to your table.

"Where are you going?" - He asked, smiling slyly. You didn't catch this gesture, unlike Jungkook, who looked at his friend sideways.

"We're going dancing." - You said, pulling Jungkook's hand. Jimin winked at Jungkook. He winked back, to his friend's surprise. Jimin raised his eyebrows in surprise as he sat down next to Taehyung.

"They're going to fuck tonight. Telling you." - Jimin said to Hoseok and Taehyung, who were watching you and Jungkook.

"They've been doing it for a while." - Taehyung says, finishing his whiskey. Jimin turns an incredulous look to Taehyung.

"What do you mean? Did he tell you?" - Jimin asks. Does Jungkook tell Taehyung first, but didn’t tell Jimin anything?

"No, he didn't. But I don't need his confirmation. They live together, they provably fuck. Don't you see the way he looks at her?" - Taehyung asks as if it were obvious. Jimin nods.

"You know they live together?" - Jimin wonders how Taehyung knows.

"I saw their text messages by accident before I we visited Niseko. She was asking him to buy some groceries or something. He didn't notice that I was there. And also she blurted it out when we were sitting in a restaurant." - Taehyung answered. Jimin nodded, savoring the whiskey, but his mind was far away.

He wondered why Jungkook was hiding the relationship from all of them. It's obvious that you're together. Doesn't he trust them? Especially him? Jimin had always been used to Jungkook sharing everything with him. He knew about all his girlfriends, every relationship, from the moment they met. They had grown to be close friends.

But you... you're the one Jungkook is so desperately protective of, not admitting to your relationship, that it can only mean one thing. You are special to him. Now Jimin knew exactly who Jungkook's real Achilles' heel was.

On the way to the dance floor, you asked Jungkook to hide your phone so that it wouldn't get in the way of your hands. He kindly agreed, putting it in one of his pockets.

There was energetic electronic music playing on the dance floor, and the crowd seemed to be in complete ecstasy. You were moving to the beat of the music, forgetting everything around you. Your movements were light, graceful, but at the same time relaxed, thanks to the champagne that gave you courage.

Jungkook stood next to you, watching you at first, but then, succumbing to the atmosphere, he allowed himself to relax. He took you by the waist and pulled you closer so that your dance was synchronized. You felt the warmth of his body through the satin dress. His hands were on your hips, on your back, on your arms. You easily lost yourselves among the people so that no one could see how close you were to each other.

You turned your back on Jungkook and started rubbing against his crotch, feeling a wave of excitement from your closeness. You wanted to seduce your boyfriend. You wanted to get him hot so that he could fuck you good at home.

Moving your ass against his crotch, you felt his hardness after a while. Jungkook's hands were holding your waist, but suddenly his hand slid down to your throat. He gently, very gently pulled your body as close to him as possible. His lips touched your ear.

"Do you want me to walk around with a hard-on for the rest of the evening? Or do you have other plans?" - He asked. The huskiness of his voice makes you feel a current running through your body. You laugh.

"I'm just dancing next to you." - You say in your defense. Jungkook moves his hand down to your bare thigh, and your skin literally burns in that spot.

"That sweet ass makes my cock hard in seconds. You know that. And don't say you weren't going to seduce me." - He says in your ear. His breath is scorching. Your cheeks burn as much as your desire for Jungkook to fuck you now.

"Looks like I've been found out." - You say, turning to face him. You're as close as you can get. Jungkook smiles stiffly. "We're going home soon anyway. How about we spend this time enjoying ourselves?" - You ask, quickly pressing your lips to Jungkook's.

His grip on your hips tightens. You move in time to the music, and Jungkook's cock thrusts against your buttocks. He seems very excited.

"I can't wait, when we to go home. So we're going to the toilet." - This is the last thing you hear against your cheek. Without waiting for you to answer, Jungkook grabs your hand and you walk through the crowd.

You find yourself in a restroom. It seems to belong to the VIP zone, because it is quiet and there is no one here. There are three large stalls. Jungkook leads you to the farthest one and locks the door.

He pounces on your lips, so fast that you don't have time to recover. Jungkook presses you against the wall of the toilet, so you can feel the contrast. The cold wall cools your hot body, and Jungkook turns up the heat with his hands all over your body and tongue kisses that make you soaked.

Jungkook moves to your neck when your lungs need oxygen. He leaves wet marks on your neck and jaw and you get even more excited. His hand slides between your legs, into the perfect slit at your thigh. He pulls the thong aside and touches your folds. Jungkook pulls away from your neck and breathes heavily on your lips, and you open your mouth in pleasure, feeling his fingers rubbing the moisture and caressing your erect clit.

"You're so wet for me, baby." - He says against your lips. You bite down on them to hold back your moans. His hot, whiskey-scented breath is intoxicating. He plunges two fingers into your hole and pumps. It's hard for you to breathe. You want to release your feelings through a loud moan, but you hold yourself back as best you can.

You want to feel Jungkook inside you, because stretching with your fingers isn't enough for you. Without warning, Jungkook takes his fingers out of you. He raises his hand to your face and runs your own arousal down your nose, along the curve of your cheek, then presses his middle and ring fingers against the pad of your lips.

Your lips open unconsciously, and he slides his fingers inside, making you swallow your own arousal. He bursts in with a force and control that drives you crazy. He presses down on your tongue, then wraps his fingers around it, rolling and smearing your arousal.

"I have to eat you, because you're just flowing." - Jungkook says and is already on his knees.

He moves your skirt, lifts it up slightly, and you grab it to help him hold it up. Jungkook pulls your thong off, and it falls around your ankles, catching on the clasp of your heels on one side.

Jungkook throws your leg over his shoulder, freeing your legs from the underwear so he can have perfect access to your juicy pussy. You grab his hair as you feel his wet tongue on your clit.

"Fuck." - You exhale, enjoying the movements of Jungkook's skillful tongue. He licks your folds from the bottom to the top, right down to your slit, making you shudder. As you tremble, Jungkook flicks his tongue over your clit. One. Two. Then he sucks on it and plays with it. You literally lose your head over Jungkook's oral sex skills.

You'll feel Jungkook plunging his fingers into you again. He eats you and stretches you at the same time to have a good way to stretch you with his big cock after you cum on his tongue.

Still pushing his fingers inside you, Jungkook pulls away from your sensitive bud and starts to bite the skin around it, then he swipes his tongue.

Your hips jerk, your sighs and moans mix and echo in the air, and you think you should be quiet, but you absolutely can't. Jungkook has never eaten your pussy so passionately and with such a taste.

He's picking up the pace. When he senses that you're about to come, he sucks in and you can feel your clit trembling on his tongue. He releases it and flicks his tongue several times, prolonging your orgasm as much as possible. You moan out loud. Because fuck, it's amazing.

You look down and meet Jungkook's smile. His lips and chin are glistening with your juice. He stands up, wiping his face at the same time, and gets too close. Jungkook immediately captures your lips in a passionate kiss, giving you a second taste of himself, only this time on his tongue.

You are falling apart from the passion between you. It's so dirty and sexy that you want to be fucked by your boyfriend like the last whore.

"Fuck me." - You ask when your lips are barely parted.

"You're so needy for me, you want me to fuck you now. What about waiting until we get home?" - Jungkook teased you. He was already unbuckling his leather belt and you were eagerly helping him. You didn't listen to what he was saying because you knew he was going to fuck you. When his pants fell down, you heard a thud. It was your phone in his pocket.

"You dropped my phone!" - You complain, pulling down his boxers.

"Fuck it. I'll buy you two hundred of these." - Jungkook says defiantly. You throw a mischievous smile.

"I don't need two hundred. One is enough for me, if you break the screen you'll buy me a new one." - You say, grabbing Jungkook by the length of his arm. He closes his eyes blissfully as you slowly pump him up. You smear his pre-cum, caressing the tip. You completely grasp his glans with your hand and move your hand back and forth to increase his arousal. In between pumping his length, you caress his balls a few times, which makes Jungkook ecstatic as he let out a low moan and that makes you stronger. When Jungkook thinks you've aroused him enough, he stops your hand.

"Take off your dress so we don't get it dirty." - Jungkook asks in a heavy voice. You let go of his erect cock and lick your thumb, which you had been using to caress Jungkook's cock.

Jungkook's eyes darken and a cocky smile graces his face. You take off your dress and throw it on the toilet, which was closed. You notice a large mirror behind Jungkook's back. You see his bare buttocks. He's gotten rid of his pants and boxers, throwing them elsewhere. He has opened the silk shirt he was wearing so that it doesn't hinder his movements.

When you are naked, Jungkook wastes no time in taking you into his arms. He gives both of your breasts proper attention, caressing and kissing them. Luckily for you, there are no bruises after the last time in the car, and those painful kisses-punishments.

Jungkook rests his hard cock against your pussy and you wonder when he's going to get down to the real business. As if he heard your thoughts, he leaves your breasts and grabs your thigh. He lifts and moves your leg so that he can enter you in a standing position. You feel his cock pressing against your entrance and you bite your lip. Because he's doing it slowly, carefully, with little pressure.

You sigh loudly when his cock is completely inside you. Jungkook suddenly puts his hands on your buttocks.

"Come on, my love, lift." - He urges you and pushes you up so that you are pressed with your hot body against the cold wall of the toilet, pouring your feet over his buttocks. Jungkook presses you tighter against the wall, and you wrap your arms around his neck, trying to hold on as well.

Jungkook makes the first thrust and you hold your breath. He moves his hips to adjust to the most comfortable position. Once he finds the perfect position for both of you, he pushes his cock inside and it feels so incredibly good that you roll your eyes. So blissful, so deep, so tight.

You hear Jungkook moaning lightly into your neck. You open your eyes and see yourself in the mirror. Jungkook's strong figure, with bare buttocks and your legs wrapped around his waist. He is driving himself into you as far as he can, and this new position gives you perfect pleasure.

You can't hold back your moans from his intense movements. His cock is rubbing against your walls very well.

"Shhh.... Baby. You have to be a little quieter. We might be heard." - Jungkook asks you. But you don't understand how you can be quieter here. He's giving you so much pleasure that only these loud moans keep you from going crazy. His cock is so deep in your passage, perfectly hitting your G-spot in this position.

But he's right, you can't be heard. So you try to keep your voice down. Jungkook continues to fuck you, and you realize that you don't have much longer. You can already feel the orgasm building in your middle.

"Kook..." - You call out to him, making him look down at your beautiful face. He smiles and kisses your lips.

"Do you want to come, baby?" - He asks, guessing why you called him. You whimper, and hold back, enjoying his cock, which slams deep into you with every thrust.

"Yes. I want to..." - You say.

"Take your time. Take it easy. Relax. I want to fuck you longer." - Jungkook says. His voice sounds like it's the only way you can come. You breathe hard and close your eyes. You need to relax. But you can't hold it in for long. How long does he want to fuck you? And how can he do that? Is it all the alcohol in his blood that has given him stamina?

Jungkook stops his movements. He breathes fast and you open your eyes. Jungkook kisses you, plunging his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues weave in a perfect pair and taste each other. You can taste the whiskey every time he plunges his tongue into your mouth.

While he kisses you, you can feel his fingers on your clit. You are getting too much stimulation. You want to come already. You're also a little tired of being in this position.

"Kook, please." - You beg, pulling away from his lips. "I want to come." - Jungkook hears your request and slams his hips into you without warning. He makes several deep thrusts and you forget how to breathe.

"I said I want to fuck you longer." - He says roughly.

"I can't take it..." - You say in despair and pleasure at the same time.

"Hold out for me, baby. You can do it, I know you can..." - Jungkook says somewhere in your neck. You don't understand why he won't let you come. He picks up the pace again and is pushes his cock in your poor pussy. You realize that a few more thrusts and you'll just come. But you try to relax. "You're taking me so well, my good girl. Should I let you come at last?" - Jungkook asks you defiantly. You whimper and moan.

"Please... let me..." - You beg as hard as you can. You press your nails into his back and into his back to ease the sensations of stimulation. You feel Jungkook's lips on your cheek.

"Then come for me, love." - You hear his voice. He accelerates his movements to the maximum so that you can feel the longed-for orgasm that you've been holding back on the edge until the last moment. With a sharp thrust, he brings you to the end, and you come around his cock with a long moan. Jungkook goes a little crazy from this sound and keeps fucking you to reach his orgasm.

He will feel his balls squeeze, his cock hardens as much as possible and he spills his hot cum inside you. Your head is spinning, and your ears are ringing from all the feelings that have captured you at the same time.

Jungkook stops after the last thrust and you feel him soften. You're both breathing heavily. You don't know how much time passes before he pulls out of you, lowering you to the ground.

"Fuck, Jungkook." - You say. "Why didn't you let me come?" - You wonder why he did that.

"So you could have a first-class orgasm, my love." - He replies as he takes your chin with his fingers and kisses your lips gently. Your gut flutters from his "my love" and his gentle kiss. He hasn't called you that until today. Does his "my love" mean what you think it means, or is it just a pet name for him? You really did have the best orgasm you've ever had. Was it because you held it back?

"Go pee and get dressed. They're probably looking for us by now." - Jungkook says as he lets go of you and walks toward his clothes. You find a thong and put it on.

Jungkook is waiting for you behind the stall. You get dressed and fix the dress. You go to the mirror and see that you don't look fresh. You take out a paper napkin and dab at your makeup.

You leave the booth, completely satisfied with the incredible sex you had with Jungkook. You notice him standing by the window. His head is down. You come closer to him and to your surprise you notice a phone in his hands. It's your phone.

Jungkook turns to you with an absolutely furious look on his face. Your insides tremble. Your heart speeds up, and you realize that he read the text messages from Doohoon that you didn't delete. You're so stupid. You should have erased them right away. Block this number.

He pokes the phone at you. You see the text message and the last digits of Doohoon's number from the bottom to the top.

"What is it?" - He says, and you hear his voice tremble with anger.

"It's a text message." - You say calmly. You want to pick up the phone, but Jungkook jerks his hand away and won't let you take it.

"Candy, don't tell him we saw each other. He threatened to kill me."- Jungkook reads aloud one of the texts written by Doohoon. Maybe it was because of that text message that you didn't tell Jungkook that day that you saw him. You wanted to tell him, but because he was in a bad mood, you didn't say anything. You remember the angry image of Jungkook at the Christmas party. And you think you didn't keep quiet for Doohoon’s sake, but for Jungkook's.

"Jungkook, honey, I'll explain everything to you now." - You say gently. You want to take his hand, but he takes a step away from you. You freeze, puzzled.

"When the fuck did you see each other?" - He says surprisingly calmly, but you know he's furious inside.

"A few days ago. When you went to Namjoon. He met me in the parking lot of our building." - You admit it. You hear Jungkook start to breathe heavily. He looks at your phone again and reads the text messages from Doohoon.

12.29/08.12 P.M. | 010-***-***-14: You know that I am for you. I'll be there to save you

12.29/08.14 PM | 010-***-***-14: Sweetie, don't tell him we saw each other. He threatened to kill me. I don't know if you know, but he beat me up for telling you the truth about him.

12.29/08.15 P.M. | 010-***-***-14: No matter what you tell me, you seem so lost today. Maybe it's a sign that you've made the wrong choice.

12.29/08.25 PM | 010-***-***-14: I can see you hesitating. I don't need to force you to realize which of us is more reliable.

12.29/08.33 PM | 010-***-***-14: I can see you hesitating. I don't want to force to realize who you need more trustworthy.

12.30/01.26 PM | 010-***-***-14: I'm not giving up, candy. I know I can convince you. Time is on my side.

12.31/10.14 PM | 010-***-***-14: Candy, take care of yourself. There are going to be a lot of people at the party who are connected to the mafia. This is not the world you need to be in. Try to avoid talking to people you don't know, and don't believe the empty smiles. They are here for a reason.

12.31/10.15 PM | 010-***-***-14: If something goes wrong, know that I am always there for you, even if you can't see it.

01.01/01.26 A.M. | 010-***-***-14: Happy New Year, Candy. How are you feeling? Are you okay?

"What the fuck is this Y/N shit?" - Jungkook yells as he clutch your phone. You flinched at the sudden scream. You let him read it because you didn't see any point in hiding anything anymore. You really don't understand why you didn't erase those texts.

"Kook, I really did see him. But I was going to tell you everything. I just didn't want to worry you. You weren't yourself that day. I didn't want you to do anything terrible." - You explained with despair in your voice.

"He's stalking you again and you're not saying anything?" - Jungkook asks, trembling with anger. He clutches your phone so tightly in his hand that you think he's going to smash it.

"No, I wanted to tell you everything..." - You start.

"You wanted?" - Jungkook raises his voice. "But you didn't! You knew it was important, you knew who he was to me and you , and you still kept it from me! Why?" - He shouts. You feel your palms sweat. You are a fool. A fool for letting this situation happen.

You are silent, trying to find the words. You open your mouth a few times to explain, but you fall silent because all the words in your head sound absurd.

"Do you like his attention?" - Jungkook suddenly asks. You freeze in horror. No. Of course not. You don't like his attention, how could Jungkook even think that?

"Are you crazy?" - You ask a rhetorical question. You sound angry. "What attention? I didn't say anything because I didn't know how you would react." - You say. Your breathing has also quickened. You are nervous, feeling nauseous.

"How am I going to react? How do you expect me to react when your phone is flooded with messages from him, and you didn't even think to warn me? He calls you so sweetly, and you just let it happen?" - Jungkook says unpleasant things to you that make you feel dirty.

"I told him to call me that many times. He gave me that nickname back in school, and you know!" - You say. "He texts me, if you can see, but I don't answer."

"Just texts? He knows you'll be at the party and he warns you about the mafia like it's his business! Are you starting to trust him?" - Once again, Jungkook takes you by surprise. You literally boil over from the nonsense your boyfriend is saying.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Do you even hear what you're saying? How can I trust him when I know what that shit did to you? I left those texts to show you when you needed me to. I could have easily deleted them and you wouldn't have known anything!" - You screamed. You fell silent and you looked at each other with rage. Your eyes almost physically radiated lightning.

But suddenly it dawned on you. You have a password on your phone and Jungkook doesn't know it. How did he get into your phone?

"How do you know my password?" - You ask him. Your voice heard like terror. Did he hack your phone? You've got a new one, because your phone is new, too.

"I knew it." - Jungkook admits.

"How do you know, I’m ask?" - You raise your voice, irritated.

"It doesn't matter." - Jungkook waves it off. You run up to him and grab his shirt.

"It is important. Did you hack my phone? Are you spying on me too?" - You ask. Your voice doesn't sound like you. It trembles and almost breaks. Jungkook looked at your hand and took it. He squeezed it hard because you started to struggle. "Answer me!" - You shouted loudly, starting to hit Jungkook. You were worried that he knew about all your affairs, that you were digging up information on his clan, and because of that your sunbae might be in danger.

He grabbed your arms and broke them behind your back. You heard him press you against the wall, trapping you between his body and the wall. For another 10 minutes he held you down in the same way. But now you are in a completely different situation.

"Calm down Y/N!" - Jungkook yelled at you. You stopped struggling in his arms and breathed quickly and deeply. The warmth of his body was somehow not pleasant now.

"You're watching for me too." - You said, holding back your tears. "What makes you better than him? I'm your fucking girlfriend, why do you need to get into my phone?"

"Just for moments like this." - Jungkook replies roughly, still holding you against the wall. "I need to know everything about you because Doohoon wants to hurt you. I thought you trusted me." - You laugh hysterically.

"I do trust you. I trusted you more than anyone in my life. But you've been undermining my trust in you all along. You're the one who hides the truth. I’m yet been silent only for several days, I was PLANNING to tell you everything. I don't know what you can do with him. Beat him again or even kill him!" - You screamed. When you stopped talking, you only then realized what you had said. Jungkook froze, his eyes darting between yours.

"So you believe him. You believe I kill people?" - Jungkook asks, and you can hear the hurt in his voice.

"I don't fucking know what to believe anymore. You're a fucking gangster, how do I know if you kill people or not? I don't know what you do when you're not home all day." - You sound angry.

"I told you I didn't kill people." - Jungkook says calmly.

"How do I know for sure?" - You ask, irritated.

Jungkook steps away from you, and you feel everything inside you tighten. His calm gaze, while not indifferent, was cold and distant. You stand there, breathing heavily, feeling your emotions rising violently inside.

"If you're not sure about me, then why are you here?" - Jungkook asks in a cold voice.

"It's obvious, you idiot, that I love you." - You say and leave the restroom. You run out to the main dance floor and go to the wardrobe. You take your coat and go outside. You cry and just go wherever your eyes lead.

You walk across a wide street crowded with people and cars. Your heart is heavy with tears that never stop rolling down your face. Itaewon is filled with a festive atmosphere - people are celebrating, laughing, hugging, but for you, this whole world seems alien and empty. The light of neon signs, bright fireworks, the sound of music from clubs and shops - all of this merges into a fog, as if you've entered a completely different reality.

The fight with Jungkook was so ridiculous. You feel your heart shrink from this inner pain. It's like you're plunging into a whirlpool of memories, where things were simpler, when you and Jungkook had more trust, and your relationship seemed more natural. But now, as you scroll through all the words you said to each other during the last fight, you wonder.

You wonder if it's worth staying together if he's no longer the person you knew and felt safe with. You feel a kind of disappointment that penetrates your soul, as if someone is slowly throwing away all the positive emotions you felt when you were with him. Jungkook seems to have become different - colder, less open. And although you are still close in bed, in everyday life, things are getting more complicated. You lack understanding, you lack his openness to you.

You think that things might have been different if Jungkook had been the man you remembered, the man who was ready to open up, the man you could trust without question. But now he's become distant, and it hurts you more than you're willing to admit.

Your heart is struggling between the desire to leave everything as it is and the need to let him go. You don't want to be part of a relationship that is constantly burdensome, where even the smallest conversation turns into a conflict.

Sometimes it seems like you just don't know how to be together. You feel that even if you stay together, it won't be what you both want. You wonder if there's even a chance for things to go back to the way they were, or if the connection is irreparably broken.

You know that your New Year's is now ruined, and you're walking alone in the middle of the street. You want to call a taxi, but you realize that you left your phone somewhere near Jungkook.

Before you knew it, you reached the end of the street and stopped on the sidewalk of the Yongsan Bridge, which led to the center of Seoul. You leaned on the pylons and admired the New Year's fireworks over the Han River.

Suddenly, you started crying again, hard and desperately. No matter how much you thought about your relationship, trying to piece it together, the only thing you knew for sure was that you were completely and irrevocably in love with Jungkook.

You can't imagine your life without him. These thoughts just tear you in half. Your heart says I love him, stay, but your mind says run away, he's not your match.

While thinking about Jungkook, you suddenly hear a car stop behind you. You don't pay attention, you're too focused on your feelings. You're standing on a bridge with hundreds of cars passing over it, so you don't realize what's happening behind you.

Only when a strong arm grabs you do you want to turn around, but it's too late. Hands grab your mouth, and before you can even scream, you are being roughly pushed into a car.

You try to break free, but your hands are clamping down, and you don't have enough strength. Every move you make, every attempt to call for help, is drowned out by the cold voices of those holding you. You feel yourself being pushed into the car, and the doors are slammed shut.

"Don't struggle, bitch!" - You hear one of the voices say, sounding like a low grunt. One of the kidnappers ties your hands with a strong rope. They put a black bag over your head and you try to breathe slowly so that the air will last for a long time. Your mouth is gagged.

You try to keep your fear under control, but your heart is pounding and your hands are covered in cold sweat.

The car is speeding through the night city, and you don't know where you're going. You think about Jungkook and pray to God that he will somehow find you. You're scared and you don't know what to expect from these people. But suddenly, in the midst of this silent terror that holds you in a vice-like grip, you hear a part of the conversation that makes you shudder.

"We followed her from the club. He didn't follow. It fucking lucky Jungkook doesn't know where she is and it worked..." - One of the men says and it sounds like he's on the phone. He is silent for a while and then speaks further. "We'll bring her soon. Just 15 minutes." - The kidnapper goes silent, and you feel your blood run cold. The car drives smoothly on the asphalt and you try to listen for any sounds. Feel the road under your wheels. You are tied up and the car is quiet.

The kidnapper don't talk to each other when you feel the car leave the asphalt and drive down some dirt road. You don't know how many minutes pass before the car stops. You hear the sound of your own heart. The door of the car interior opens.

A man takes you in his arms and carries you. You don't resist, you just see the grass and soil that comes into your view. You are taken to some garage or warehouse and put on a chair, tied to it. In a moment, the bag comes off your head and you see four men in front of you. The one holding the black sack in his hand steps aside to make way for his boss, obviously.

This man looks at you.

"Holy shit, look who Jungkook is fucking. Such a hottie!" - A laugh ripples through the room. You try to look at the man's face, but the light hitting your face makes it impossible.

"She's just a tidbit. That bastard should have kept a better eye on her." - Another man says.

"It's definitely Yonte. But God forbid anyone lays a finger on her. I'll personally cut her milky skin to get back at Jungkook. It seems he forgotten about me. He's found a whore for himself, so safely from his side. Not even realizing that this was the moment I was waiting for. I can't wait to see his eyes when she bleeds out." - He laugh crazily and his laugh all around and your heart sinks.

↰ Previous chapter ⋮ ≣ Index ↓ ⋮ Next chapter ↱

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x f!reader #jungkook smut #jungkook friends with benefits #bts mafia au #bts fanfction

111 notes · View notes

opal-tea · 6 months ago

Text

Light casts a shadow. The shadow cannot exist without the light.

ough so here's the thing i wouldn't shut up about for about a week lol. this took me roughly a month to complete. i had been looking at the Alice Asylum design bible and after crying for half an hour i decided i NEEDED to get this idea out of my head. i have always thought it would be so fucking cool if Alice wielded a giant pair of embroidery scissors as a weapon. and at first, i thought "well maybe i'll just draw her in the "miss stitched" dress since embroidery scissors kind of fit the theme of that, but I really? just wanted to draw my own dress as well? so i did, and it was a pain in the ass but it ended up looking really cool and i'm really happy i ran with this whole idea. i have been fondly referring to it as the "seamstress dress". i chose phthalo green specifically because of that meme that keeps going around abt the color. i just love it, omg.

i admit that a giant pair of embroidery scissors is quite possibly the least functional and most cumbersome kind of weapon anyone could wield. but it still looks cool as fuck and i don't care. down below are some concept sketches and a flat color version of the drawing sans the scissors, just so you can see more details of the dress.

if anyone has any suggestions on what else i should add to the image description for screenreaders, please let me know. enjoy~

95 notes · View notes

crossfandomslut · 1 year ago

Text

At Peace in Your Fire (pt2)

Summary: Y/n goes into the the Cauldron, and ends up in Velaris. A strange place with a sentient house and hopefully some new friends. Y/n much navigate what being fae means for her now.

Pairing: Future Eris x Reader ! Eris is in this chapter y'all! It's not much haha I'm dragging it out !

Word Count: 4,900

Notes: I'm so glad people liked the first chapter and I hope you stick with me to see where this story goes ! I wanted to get to know the reader a bit more, and have interactions with the other characters to add depth to the story and who the reader is so that she's not just some rando haha Please comment your thoughts and opinions, I love hearing what you liked about it so I can try to make each chapter better than the last ! Hugs <3

Find part 1 here

Her life flashed before her eyes as the Cauldron scanned through her every memory, as if in search of an answer, but she didn’t know what the question was. All she felt was cold. As the Cauldron raked through images of their mother and her neglect as Feyre and Y/n did whatever they could to get her attention. Even if she was yelling at them, it was better than being ignored. It took Y/n a long time to realize that Nesta wasn’t ‘lucky’ for having all their mothers’ attention. The cold continued to settle into her bones as she watched her mother get sick and their father fall deep into depression after losing his fortune. Flashes of what she had to do with the baker’s son to feed the family some weeks, of Feyre being taken away by Tamlin, of Nesta looking so hopeless as they searched for their sister, and finally of tonight, being taken from their home in the night, the pain of her sister’s faces and the fear that shot through her as her toes touched the Cauldron’s edge. Deeper and deeper the water soaked through her too thin nightgown, into her skin, and settled in her bones. the water the warm when she first touched it, but as she felt herself drift further toward the bottom, an icy cold took over her senses.

At last, a flicker of warmth ran through her as memories played of watching Feyre, Nesta, and Elain try to fit into the too small bed of the cabin as Y/n curled up right in front of the fireplace, laughing at her sisters bickering for space and urging Nesta to move her cold feet away from them. Eventually, her sisters stopped bickering and they too started laughing. Those were the glowing moments of joy they were able to find in the darkest times. The warmth in her body spread as the next memory played; the four of them dancing around a bonfire in the late Summer, early Autumn. Laughing and dancing like idiots because Y/n was able to convince the baker’s son to sneak her a cake. They hadn’t had a real cake, with icing and candles, in years, but she had seen it through the window and knew she needed to share it with her dearest sisters. The leaves were just starting to change color and the warm fire light casted the already orange and red leaves in the most stunning light.

The last memory that played was the night that Nesta brought home paints for Feyre. In the low light of the evening fire, Y/n begrudgingly gave up her spot directly in front of the flame so that Feyre had the best light to paint in. She painted their tiny dresser drawers with something to symbolize each of them. Nesta had her own dresser, full of the beautiful-and large-dresses their mother used to make her wear. Nesta requested her dresser be painted black. Simple, but a bold sentiment. Y/n’s drawer, of course, was painted with flames. It was a well known fact to everyone who met her that Y/n was drawn to the heat and comfort of fire. Sweet Elain’s drawer was painted in the flowers she loved to tend in the rather pathetic gardens. And for a reason she didn’t understand at the time, Feyre painted her drawer with the night sky. Dazzling stars and a bright moon to look down on her wherever she may be.

Y/n’s chest started to glow at that memory and finally she felt warm again, seeing that dingy old cabin, that fireplace lit, and the lives it made brighter, warmer, safer.

A sudden rush of the Cauldron’s freezing water had Y/n gasping for air that was no where to be found. She wasn’t drowning, but she wasn’t breathing either. She was stuck in this terrible, dark, cold place and feeling like all was lost. So, she spoke into the void, “you may take my body and soul, as long as you promise to watch over my sisters. Keep them safe and happy and whole.”

“Your eldest sister took something from me. Something very dark and very important. You are in no position to make a bargain for her safety.” The voice came as a harsh whisper that sounded like death itself. “I will get back what she took, and more, but I haven’t met a being a very long time who was willing to give. For that, I will reward you. What gift I have bestowed upon you, you must find out for yourself. It will either breathe life into what you love most… or suffocate it.”

With those final words spoken straight into her heart, Y/n felt the world shift as she was dumped from the Cauldron, back onto the ice-cold stone floor, soaking wet. The King of Hybern’s magic lifts just enough for Feyre to rush to her and cling to her like life depended on it.

The following events at Hybern will be scarred into Y/n mind for the rest of her newly immortal life. Lucien's painful screaming that Elain was his mate, the human queen going into the Cauldron and coming out old and decrepit because of what Nesta stole from it, Tamlin demanding that the King break the bond between Feyre and Rhysand, and Feyre saying that Rhys had her under a spell all this time.

If it weren’t for their relationship as twins seeming to strengthen now that they were both Fae, and for Feyre’s daemati powers, Y/n would have freaked the fuck out. Lucky for them all, Feyre explained the whole plan, albeit almost too rapidly for Y/n to understand given what she just went through in the Cauldron. Y/n played along and acted disgusted by Rhys and horrified as he winnowed her away. The cry of her sister's name was not forced or faked.

When they landed in what she could only assume was the Night Court, a beautiful female with eerie silver eyes and black hair came rushing around the corner. “Where is she?”

Rhysand explained everything. Only after calling for his best healers to help Cassian and Azriel. By the time he finished, Mor appeared after hiding Y/n's sisters away somewhere that they could rest and process.

“She is your mate, not your spy. Go. Get. Her.” The one with silver eyes, Amren, demanded.

“She is my mate. And my spy. And she is the High Lady of the Night Court.” Rhysand said softer, but not weakly.

“What?” Mor gasped.

Rhysand explained it all, and finally said, “Your High Lady made a sacrifice for her court, and we will move when the time is right.”

“Until then?” Amren asked sharply.

“Until then,” Rhysand spared each of them a glace, “we go to war.”

Mor showed Y/n to her room, told her to ask the house for whatever she needed, and that she should rest for as long as she needed. And that they were all here for her when she was ready to come out.

The first thing Y/n asked the house for was a fire to be lit. She was ready to get on her knees and beg for the heat of it, but when the house responded immediately, Y/n let out a sob and threw herself on the floor in front of the large hearth. She sat with her legs tucked under her, staring into the dancing flames as tears streamed down her face and choked sobs rocked her body. She stared into the blaze. Fire, she thinks, looks alive but is not. It dances and sways in the phantom wind and dries the tears that had long stopped coming. Y/n wished she could climb straight into the inferno and wrap it around herself to make her bed. For a moment she wonders if her new Fae body would allow such a thing, before she grabs a plush red dyed wool blanket, and a soft enough throw pillow from the couch, and she curls up in front of the glowing heat and sparkling embers. Right where she feels the safest and most at home.

Y/n slept off and on for four days if she’s been keeping track of time correctly. The house delivered food, that at first, she was hesitant to touch, because what does a house know about cooking? But once she got hungry enough to try the steaming soup and heavily buttered bread it delivered for dinner on night two, she ate her words. Literally. The house quickly learned that Y/n preferred black tea and something sweet to eat at breakfast, something light and fresh for lunch, and a hearty dense dinner. The fire had remained lit since the first night, when the house thought it would be okay to let it die out once Y/n fell asleep, and Y/n woke up screaming and shaking, nightmares plaguing her. The fire had not gone out again. Not even a flicker.

Y/n was feeling rested and eager to learn if there were any updates about her twin in the Spring Court. She needed to know if Feyre was okay. When she swung the door of her bedroom open, Rhysand was standing there, smirking, looking like he knew every thought in her head.

“I’ll need to teach you about mental shields.” His smirk grew, “you’re just as bad as Feyre was when she first got here, practically shouting your thoughts. I could probably hear you from the house of wind.”

Y/n blinked at him. Sure, she knew that Feyre’s daemati powers allowed her to speak into people’s minds, but to just openly heard other’s thoughts? How miserable that must be.

Rhysand gaped for a fraction of a second after hearing her thoughts, before his brows furrowed. “You- you’re not angry or afraid about the invasion of privacy?”

“I mean, would I prefer you not listen? Sure, but you just said you’d teach me to block you out, so really, I just feel bad for you both. I never want to know what’s going through other’s heads. That’s their business and it probably gets gross and annoying.”

There’s a silent pause before Rhysand throws his back and laughs, “It does get gross, and annoying,” He straightens again and says, "thank you, Y/n. Not many understand that or think about how it feels for us.”

“So then you probably already know that I was about to come find you and ask about Feyre?”

“Yes. Let’s talk about it once you’ve had a bath and change into clean clothes. Have you been sleeping and living in that for four days?” He eyes her absolutely filthy, no longer white, nightgown that she had been wearing when the Hybern soldiers took her.

“Yes. Yes, I have, Rhysand. But I will take that bath and clean clothes. I smell like the deer I killed the day we first met.” Y/n’s face scrunched at the memory of the stench that she never got used to, even after all those years of hunting with Feyre. “I’d say I would come find you, but you’ll probably know exactly when I’m ready.” She winked and tapped her finger to her temple before turning on her heel back into her room. The house must have been listening, because a hot bath was waiting for her in the bathing chambers. Soaps and oils that smelled like pine and cedar, a crackling fire, and the forest after it rains. Y/n had never smelt anything so lavish. Never smelt anything that captured the feeling of home so thoroughly.

Ridding herself of the disgusting nightgown, Y/n went to dip a toe in the steaming water and stopped. It felt so much like the Cauldron. But Y/n, like always, reminded herself to be adaptable. She was fine. This room was nothing like that place. This place had bright windows that lit up the room. She could see the bottom of the tub, nothing like the dark mirky waters she was forced into. She was fine and she was safe. Y/n prided herself on being able to choke her feelings down. She thought that if she could intellectualize her feelings, they wouldn’t be able to control her. It hadn't come to bite her in the ass yet. She calmed her racing heart, and plunged into the hot water and washed herself clean of the memories using the soaps that smelled like home. Those smells soothed her soul like a balm and she started to feel like herself again.

After taking her merry time in the tub, the house keeping the water hot as long as she needed it, Y/n stood and grabbed a towel from the vanity in the corner of the room. Y/n hadn’t looked at herself in the mirror yet, but figured now was as good of a time as any. She sat on the round cushioned stool and slowly lifted her head. She tilted her head back and forth, examining the subtle changes that suddenly made her Fae. She tucked her hair behind her ears to reveal the exaggerated, but soft, pointed ears. Smiled at herself to get a look at the elongated canines, and noticed how bright and sharp her eyes looked. She didn’t have her twin’s steely blue eyes, her father said she had his mother’s eyes. Y/n looked into her own y/e/c eyes and just blinked a few times. She was most definitely Fae now. And she would adapt.

Getting dressed quickly, Y/n stepped into the hall to find Rhysand, already waiting for her. He examined her loose, flowy brown pants, and the soft grey seater she chose. “No Night Court black?”

She tripped over her own foot at the words, “oh- oh no, I’m sorry, I’ve offended you. I’ll go change-!

“No! No, Y/n stop,” he gently griped her arm to prevent her from running back in her room. “It didn’t even occur to me that you might feel comfortable in something else. I’m the one who’s sorry.” He tilts his head, so their eyes meet.

“I just feel better in colors that remind me of the woods we grew up in. It makes me feel like myself in their new, strange body and this new world we’ve been brought into. I did not have any intention of disrespecting you or your home, Rhysand.”

“Please, Y/n, call me Rhys. We are family now, right? Humans would call us, ‘in-laws’?” His smile grew as Y/n’s lips twitched into their own smile, his hand dropping from her arm.

“Of course, Rhys. I’m glad to know my sister has found someone who loves her so well. I look forward to getting to know you as we work to bring Feyre home.”

“Yes, let’s get to work on that. Follow me.” Rhys guides her down the hall and through the foyer into a large seating area. Mor, Cassian, Azriel and Amren are all speaking lowly. Rhys clears his throat as he and Y/n enter the room, and all eyes fall on Y/n. More is the first to stand up and wrap her in a tight embrace. Y/n is shocked for a brief moment, before wrapping her arms around Mor in return.

Mor pulls back with tears in her eyes to say, “we love your sister so much. We are honored to have you in our family too. We will get her back.” Y/n smiles at her fondly and Mor turns to sit back down next to Cassian. Cassian and Azriel both smile and wave at her, just like they did the first time they met in the human lands. Amren and Y/n exchange nods, and Y/n predicts that is the most emotion she’ll ever see from the female.

Rhys is the first to speak next. “Let’s get started shall we?” He took a seat in the remaining armchair, and Y/n took up a spot on the floor, directly in front of the fireplace. Her favorite place to be. “Y/n, you don’t have to sit on the floor. We can ask the house to provide another chair.”

“I’m perfectly content right here, but thank you, Rhys,” Y/n went as far as to shuffle further back toward the heat.

Azriel’s usually calculated expression fell as he stared at her in total confusion. Never had he seen someone look like they wanted to be consumed by flames. He couldn’t even comprehend it. He schooled his features when he felt Cassian pop him in the ribs with his elbow and clear this throat.

“As you wish. Azriel, I know you’re still recovering, and I do not want you to push it, but have your shadows told you anything?”

“Not much. Feyre is still hardly allowed to leave the house, Lucien is still warry of her, and Tamlin is none the wiser. She isn’t eating enough.” He says the last part so quietly and with so much anger, a shiver runs down Y/n spine. She decides to never get on Azriel’s bad side.

“Have you heard from her? Can’t you two talk through your minds or something?” Cassian asks.

“Not much. We don’t want Tamlin, or Lucien for that matter, to get suspicious. But when we do speak, she sounds so far away and it’s an effort to keep the line open. Something isn’t right, but I don’t know what it is. When she was in Spring before it wasn’t this hard. It has to be Hybern’s presence there.”

“So all we can do is sit around and wait for more information?” Mor asks incredulously.

“I wish it could say otherwise, but for now, yes. Azriel and Cassian, you need to heal and get back to training, so we’re prepared when something changes and we have to move.” They call nod their agreement and accept that it’s all they can do right now.

“I want to train too.” Y/n’s voice startles them, as if they forgot she was there.

“Of course, we’ll work on your mental shields and-“

“No- I’m sorry- I don’t mean to interrupt. I mean, yes, I do want to train with you to build my mental shield, but I also want to train with Cassian and Azriel. I want to feel strong. I want to be strong. I never want what happened in Hybern to happen again. I never want to feel helpless like that and I want to help my sister.” Y/n was firm and confident when she locked eyes with Rhys, even as tears welled in her waterline.

“Okay. Whatever you need, we’ll do it.” Rhys looked at her like he could see right through her. To the scared little girl who lost her mother, who had to learn to hunt and steal and sell her body for godsdamned bread. She had never felt so vulnerable, and she quickly broke the stare.

“Are you okay with that?” Y/n asked Cassian and Azriel.

“Yes.” “Of course.” They replies in unison.

“Thank you.”

The day turned into evening and the group is still sitting around the tiny coffee table in that grand living room. Just relaxing in each other’s presence and sharing stories with Y/n, learning more about her. “Everyone thinks that the fire painted on the drawer was for Nesta because she is so fierce, but it’s not true,” Y/n chuckles fondly as she thinks of her sharp tongued eldest sister. “I have always been drawn to the flames. Even as a baby, my parents had to keep candles far away from me.” That gets a laugh from everyone in the room. Even Amren lets out a short breath that could be considered a laugh.

“So which one was Nesta’s? Don’t tell me it was the flowers,” Cassian asked. You could tell he was attached to her, even though they had only a few brief interactions and Nesta was far less than pleasant.

“Nesta had her own full wardrobe, painted black and full of dresses our mother stuffed her into when she gave her those awful etiquette lessons.” Y/n shuddered at the memory. And then paused, just now realizing that she had no idea where her sisters were. Her heart started racing and her eyes shot to Rhys’s, knowing he had already heard every thought.

“They’re safe. They aren’t adapting as well as you are, but they’re safe and they’re okay. I promise you; I will not let anything happen to them.” Y/n laughed internally as that word. Adapting. It’s what she was best at she supposed.

Weeks had passed and Y/n had been dedicated to training with Cassian and Azriel at least once every day, sometimes twice if her energy is pent up enough. And she has a lesson with Rhys everyday too. She’s learning to read, and her mental shield is solid. Her body had never felt so strong. It was a real hit to her ego though to learn that she had been carrying her body weight wrong and lifting deer over her shoulders incorrectly her whole life. Training with Azriel was calmer than training with Cassian. Azriel moved with so much grace and control and was making you learn all the movements and balance exercises. Cassian was intense. Teaching you how to move swiftly to block and avoid kicks and punches. The fact that was going easy on you was an even bigger hit to your ego.

On this particular day, Y/n trained with Azriel in the morning, noticing how much more balanced her body felt, could isolate muscles and utilize them. After lunch was her lesson with Rhys. She’s able to push him out of her mind now, still with some effort, but she doesn’t break out in a sweat now. She spent the afternoon resting and reading when Cassian stormed into the library and asked if she wanted to train. That brought them to the training area on the townhouse. Cassian complains that it isn’t as big as the one at the house of wind, but it did the job. Cassian had just gotten back from visiting the house of wind and he was angry. He was throwing punches and seeming to forget who he was sparring with. He was moving too fast and punching too hard, but Y/n couldn’t seem to get the words out to tell him to stop. He advanced forward and as she backed up, she stumbled, allowing Cassian to land a punch straight to her jaw. Her head rattled but before she could even register the pain, she yelled, teeth bared and fists clenched to her side, “ENOUGH CASSIAN!”

The world stopped, and after two, three, four heartbeats she realized Cassian wasn’t breathing. He was staring at her as his eyes went wide and he grabbed his throat. He crashed to his knees and reached for her hands. Releasing her tight grip on her own fists, air rushed back into Cassian’s lung. He gasped for breath as Y/n fell to her knees too and let out a sob. “I am so sorry Cassian. I am so so sorry; I don’t know what happened. I’m so sorry.” She somehow managed to get the words out between sobs and gasping for air.

“Y/n, Y/n it’s okay! I’m the one who’s sorry. I can’t believe I hit you, I am so sorry Y/n. Please, look at me, I need you to breathe. I’m okay. I’m sorry.” He held her and rocked her back and forth until her heartbeat slowed to a normal pace and she could lift her head to look at him. “Shit. Rhys is going to kill me when he sees that bruise on your face. Mor might beat him to it though. I’m so sorry.”

Y/n stands up and walks to the bathing room down the hall. Cassian ran to her when he heard her start…laughing? The picture in front of him as he skidded around the corner was one he could never have predicted. Y/n was clutching her stomach, leaning over the sink and laughing hysterically at her reflection. Cassian had punched her so hard that the bruising started at her jaw and gave her a black eye. Cassian was horrified, but Y/n just kept laughing, so eventually, he did too. Mor, Rhys, and Azriel came running around the corner too, wondering what the commotion was about. When they saw Y/n face, a collective, “what the fuck Cass?” Was sounded by the other three Fae. This made Y/n and Cassian double down and laugh even harder.

When they caught their breath again, Cassian stood up proudly, patted Y/n on the back and said, “I helped Y/n discover her powers today. No big deal,” he said with no small amount of smugness.

“You mean you needed a punching bag and I had to defend myself?” Y/n quirked a brow at him.

“Semantics!” He argued.

“Wait wait wait, Y/n has powers?” Rhys’s eyes went hazy as he mentally called for Amren. “Tell me everything.”

Y/n recounted the events of their fight and how she literally took his breath away. She didn’t know she was controlling any magic; she hadn’t felt it rise up, but it must have subconsciously come to her defense.

“You’re going to have to drop down to one lesson with Cass and Az a day and pick up an extra with me and Amren. We need to learn more about this power. Power gifted by the Cauldron itself is new territory for all of us. We don’t know what the boundaries of your power are.” The sudden seriousness in Rhys’s face felt sobering as Y/n and Cassian were pulled out of their laughter and back into the reality of who and what Y/n was. Cauldron made.

Another few weeks passed of training non-stop. The magic was a lot harder for Y/n to figure out than the fighting. As of today, she can suck the air out of a room that’s about 12ft by 12ft and hold it for five minutes before faltering, and she can send a blast of air and knock Cassian over from 30ft away. Cassian was used as the dummy for both tests as an apology for decking her in the face.

Y/n was in the middle of her reading lesson for the day when Azriel came crashing into the room. “We found her. Feyre got out of Spring; we have to get her. We need your help and your magic.”

She was up in an instant. She didn’t care that she wasn’t in fighting leathers, she just needed to get to her sister. Before she had a chance to ask any questions, Azriel grabbed her and jumped from the balcony. Y/n hadn’t flown before. Never wanted to be a burden to the Illyrians. But wow, what an experience. Azriel quickly caught up to Cassian and the three of them flew swiftly and precisely.

“Where are we going?” Y/n noticed the moment they left Velaris and the landscape changed to an icy tundra. She missed the heat and comfort of her spot in front of the fireplace in the library already.

“The Winter Court. I’m sorry there wasn’t time to get you in warmer clothes. I know you have a hard time with the cold. I should have prepared you.” Azriel felt terrible, but Feyre needed them. Y/n would adapt.

“It’s okay, Az. Feyre is more important. I’m okay,” and she meant it.

The touchdown was quick. Not a lot of time to slow down and land gently. The Illyrians landed and shook the ground. Azriel was softer about letting Y/n down. Before her was quite possibly her worst nightmare unfolding. Her twin sister, her favorite person in the entire world, was being restrained by the thing that brought her the most peace. A strange male was standing above her sister, using his gift of fire to hold her at her wrists and her neck. Y/n was frozen in place. Her mind went blank as her body was slammed with fear and disgust at the gross misuse of the flames licking at her sister’s throat. It felt like a violation to her very core. Her very soul was raging at the sight. Not only for her sister being in danger, but because of the way the male was using the thing Y/n held closest to her heart and found the most precious, as a weapon to do harm.

“Y/n! Y/n!” She was thrust back into reality by Cassian’s large hands shaking her back to consciousness. She blinked at him a few times before looking over his shoulder to see Azriel already taking down the other red-headed males and saving another. Lucien. Lucien was on Feyre’s side? Blinking again and trying to remain present, she and Cassian turned to the male holding Feyre. “Now, Y/n.”

With those two words form Cassian, Y/n approached the male, and he had the audacity to laugh at her. Granted, she was still in her house slippers, baggy linen pants and oversized sweater, so she wasn’t looking her most intimidating. But he quickly stopped laughing as Y/n lifted her hands above her head, closed her fists, and threw her hands down to her side. It didn’t take long for the male to realize that he could no longer take a breath. So focused on clawing at his throat, he didn’t notice that his flames had no oxygen to restrain his hostage either. Cassian, being well versed in her magic, ran into the void she’d created, grabbed Feyre, who unfortunately also couldn’t breathe, and got her out of your field of magic. Azriel was there with Lucien in a second, Mor winnowing in to grab Y/n, Cassian, and Feyre.

They landed in the townhouse seconds later, Azriel and Lucien not far behind. Y/n was in her sister’s arms before anyone could blink. They held each other tightly, but Feyre looked over Y/n shoulder to Mor.

“He’s on his way. He’s far away, but he is rushing home to you as fast as he can. He felt the bond and sent us ahead to get you.” Mor was crying too, and Y/n turned to wave her into their hug. Right now, her sister was home and everything else could wait for tomorrow. Even if Y/n couldn't stop thinking about that red haired male on the frozen lake today. the way he laughed at her and made her feel small, and she sucked the air from his lungs like it was nothing. She thought it would have made her feel good. but it didn't, and she wasn't sure why. She would fall asleep picturing his fearful face for many nights.

Taglist: @abysshaven @minaethrym @ivy-34 @stained-glass-eyes0708

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #autumn court #eris acotar #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #eris x y/n #eris x reader

217 notes · View notes

nightwriter357 · 7 months ago

Note

Hiya! I really love your writing and I was wondering if one of your next Damien imagines could be about the reader having a night mare that something bad happened to Damien and maybe he died and then they wake up and immediately rush to his house to make sure he’s okay and somewhere in there is a love confession? (You may add smutty content should you want too lol)

Hiii! Thank you so so much. I'm sorry for taking such a long time to reply. To my own surprise there's no smut in this one 😅

I hope you like it ✨

A nightmare before Haas

You were wet with sweat and your breathing was heavy. All you could remember was clasping his lifeless hand in yours, screaming, crying. Your hand fumbled around the bed trying to get to your phone. You lifted the covers, ripped off the sheets, where the fuck is it?

You flopped on the ground, trying to check under the bed. Sure enough, there it was, as far back as it could be. You crawled under to get it, turned it around to check the screen. There was no message, no message from him. The last text was from earlier today, “Be there soon.”

So we did meet up last night? Your memory was a bit hazy. A part of you knew better; he's not really hurt, you met him last night and had a bad dream about him getting hurt and... you still had to know for sure.

You grabbed a robe and ran outside. He lived close to you, just a short walk and you would be there to see, know that he's okay. As you walked, you tried to hold the robe together, the night air was cold but your body seemed to get warmer as the thoughts raced through your head, almost as if they created a friction within you.

The rain was pouring outside, completely soaking you before you managed to get to your car. You felt too rushed to start a playlist from your songs, so you just turned the radio on, hoping the sound would drown out some of your thoughts. "Murder on the Dance Floor"—you changed the station. "Burning for You"—you changed it again. "Bleeding Love"—okay, that’s IT.

You turned the radio off, but somehow the silence still felt too loud. You had to see him, touch him, know that he’s okay.

As you sat in the car for a moment, the rain pelting down, you could see the faint light coming from Damien's window. Relief started to mix with the anxiety, but your heart was still pounding. What if he was hurt inside? What if he needed you?

You rushed out and ran to the door, your soaked robe clinging to your body. Your hand hesitated for just a second before you pounded on the door, breathless. You had to see him.

“Damien, please,” you whispered to yourself, shivering from the cold and your thoughts.

Moments later, you heard the door unlock, and it creaked open.

Damien stood there, his hair tousled from sleep, blinking in confusion. “Y/n? What the hell—are you okay?” His voice was groggy but concerned as he quickly scanned over your drenched form.

You were so overcome with emotion that you didn’t say anything at first. Instead, you threw yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest. The tears came, unexpected and overwhelming.

Damien’s arms instinctively wrapped around you, holding you close despite the cold dampness soaking into his shirt.

“Hey, hey, what happened?” His hand moved to the back of your head, gently stroking your hair. “Why are you out here like this?”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your breathing still uneven. “I... I thought... I had this nightmare... you were...” The words caught in your throat, the vivid image of his lifeless body still fresh in your mind. You felt ridiculous for even saying it, but the fear was too real.

His expression softened, concern etched in every line of his face. “I’m right here. I’m okay,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing away the tears on your cheek.

“I know it was just a dream, but I needed to see you, needed to know you were okay.” Your voice cracked as you clung to his warmth, your body trembling, not just from the cold, but from everything you had bottled up for so long.

He guided you inside, the warmth of his house wrapping around you like a blanket. "You're freezing." His voice was soft but firm as he led you toward the couch.

You nodded, your mind racing as you clutched the robe tighter around you. “I—I’m sorry for showing up like this. I must look ridiculous.” Your voice was shaky, the weight of everything starting to sink in as you sat down.

Damien grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it around your shoulders, his hands gentle but steady. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m just worried about you. What happened?”

“I thought—I thought you were dead,” you blurted out, your voice catching as the emotions of the nightmare flooded back. “It felt so real, Damien. I saw you, and you were just... gone. I kept holding your hand, but you wouldn’t wake up, and I—" You took a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself but failing. “I didn’t even think. I just ran out of the house, I didn’t grab anything, I just—I couldn’t stand it.”

Damien crouched down in front of you, his eyes wide with concern. “I’m okay. I’m right here, see?” He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “It was just a bad dream.”

“I know it was,” you continued, the words spilling out faster than you could stop them. “But it didn’t feel like it, Damien. It felt like I lost you, and I couldn’t—I can’t lose you. I care about you too much. I love you so much. I didn’t even realize how much until tonight and the thought of not—”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as you realized what you had just said. The confession hung in the air between you, and you could feel your face flushing hot despite the cold rain still dripping from your hair. You hadn't even meant to say it, but now it was out, raw and unfiltered.

Damien stared at you, clearly taken aback, his expression shifting from confusion to something softer, warmer.

“You... you love me?” His voice was quiet, almost tentative, like he was trying to make sure he’d heard you right.

Your face flushed, and you tried to backpedal, your voice faltering. “I—I don’t love you.. so much.”

Damien chuckled, clearly entertained, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Ouch,” he said with a teasing grin. “So, you don’t love me so much?”

You groaned, utterly flustered. “That’s not what I meant! I mean, I do love you...?” You trailed off, your words sounding more like a question.

Damien’s smile widened as he raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me if you love me?”

You blinked, realizing how ridiculous you sounded. “Ugh, I don't know what I'm doing or saying or thinking. I'm just so.. so cold you know? That does things to a person”

“You need to get that robe off,” Damien said with a concerned frown. “Come on, you're freezing”

You gripped the robe tightly, panic flashing through your mind. "No, it’s... I’m good.”

Damien raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “You’re shivering, and I can literally hear your teeth chattering.”

You shook your head, feeling your face flush again. “I can’t. I’m... I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

Damien blinked in surprise before a teasing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “So, you show up at my door in the middle of the night, naked, soaking wet, and give me a love confession?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god, this is a disaster,” you muttered. “I didn’t mean to say any of that.”

He chuckled softly, stepping closer and gently pulling your hands away from your face. “Hey, it’s not a disaster. In fact, I think it’s... kind of perfect.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked up at him, surprised by the warmth in his eyes. “Perfect?”

“Yeah” Damien said softly, his hands still resting gently on your shoulders. “Except you didn’t even give me a chance to tell you that I love you, too.”

Your breath hitched. “You... you do?”

He nodded, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, warming you from the inside out. “ I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now. You’re... you’re incredible, you know that? You make everything brighter by just being around.”

Your heart fluttered as he continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“I love the way you’re always there for people, how you make me laugh without even trying. And the way you show up, no matter what—like tonight. I love how... easy it feels when I’m with you, like I don’t have to pretend to be anything but myself.”

You blinked up at him, still trying to process everything.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is...” He smiled, his eyes soft as they searched yours. “I want to be with you.”

Your chest felt tight in the best possible way, his words sinking in, making you feel lighter and more connected to him than ever before.

“Damien...” You whispered, tears threatening to spill again, but this time, they weren’t from fear—they were from the overwhelming warmth his confession brought.

He leaned in, his forehead gently resting against yours, his breath warm as he whispered, “I love you.”

A soft, shaky laugh escaped you as you whispered back, “I love you, too.”

For a moment, the world outside disappeared, and it was just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of his house and each other’s confessions. His hand moved to gently lift the blanket off your shoulders, and he offered a playful grin.

The room felt smaller now, as if the air between you was charged with something unspoken. Damien’s hand brushed your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold. His eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes, the space between you barely there.

Your heart raced in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears. You were close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him, his breath mingling with yours. Your mind spun, half in disbelief that this was happening, the other half desperately hoping it would.

Neither of you moved at first, both caught in the pull of the moment. His forehead gently rested against yours, and the softness in his gaze made you feel like you were teetering on the edge of something inevitable.

“You feel that too, don’t you?” he whispered, his breath ghosting over your lips.

You nodded, your voice caught in your throat. His hand moved to cup your cheek, and just like that, the tension snapped

The first touch of his lips was gentle, testing, as if he wasn’t sure you were real. It sent a spark through you, igniting a warmth deep in your chest. His hand on your cheek held you steady, but everything else around you seemed to blur, leaving only him.

As the kiss deepened, the hesitation faded. Damien's other hand slipped around your waist, pulling you closer to his warm body, and you responded, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your own, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t dreaming.

When he pulled back, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting together. His smile was soft and genuine, and you could see the warmth in his eyes that matched the fluttering in your chest.

“Wow,” he breathed, still so close. “That was...”

“Yeah,” you whispered, a smile breaking across your face as you relished the moment. “That was.”

Damien chuckled lightly, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Now... We need to get you out of those wet clothes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing as you finally felt like everything was falling into place. “Yeah, that does sound like a two man job.”

He grinned, heading toward his bedroom to grab you something dry. “I know just the guy.”

#damien haas #damien haas x reader #smosh #damien haas x you #smoshblr #fanfic #smosh fanfiction

113 notes · View notes

who-let-a-bird-in · 9 months ago

Text

Sorry to like ruin anyone’s night but I just wanna know how other people feel about something

So for those of you who don’t know Bruce Wayne is Jewish (if not religiously then at least ethnically), his mother is Jewish which makes him by default even if he doesn’t practice, Jewish

So I’m just thinking about Bruce who’s maybe 35? His oldest son has moved out months ago and they aren’t speaking, and his youngest son? His youngest son just ran away to Ethiopia and came back dead. So Bruce who hasn’t buried anyone but his parents not knowing any other way to and Jason being buried under Jewish customs

His body was taken back to Gotham and buried as soon as possible, there would never have been a viewing in the first place due to how broken his body is but it gives Bruce more of a reason to keep it closed casket, a part of Bruce’s suit being ripped for Keriah, Jason’s casket not being nailed shut (which makes it all the more possible for him to dig his way out when he does come back), and the biggest one for me. But just the image of Bruce filling in his own child’s grave, he hasn’t done it since his mothers funeral and in a way it hurts even worse, helping to cover the wooden coffin with his son inside himself, trying to keep his hands from shaking so hard he drops the shovel

And I just wanna say, I’m not Jewish, almost all of this just came from things I already knew about and doing research, if something is wrong or should be elaborated on please do tell me, and if anyone has anything else to add please feel free to add it in the tags or comments

#bruce wayne #jason todd #a death in the family #dc comics #dc robin #jewish bruce wayne #tw death #jason todd robin #dead jason todd #dick grayson #(barely)

62 notes · View notes

hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog · 2 months ago

Text

Hard Hitter

Happy Wednesday Readers!!! I know, it's been a minute since I have grace you all with my writing, good, bad, or otherwise. Life has been a bit hectic to say the least as it has been for everyone I am sure. But hopefully I will be getting back into the swing of it, and writing/posting more.

I have been working on a few things, and been throwing some ideas around, possibly making a few changes to how I do/write moving forward, I am not sure if they will go over well with the fanfic community, but we will see.

anyhoo, let's get to it. This is a one shot, request/ask that I am filling, in for @nancymcl for some reason my desktop version of Tumblr won't let me pull her ask so I will just retype her ask here:

I am just now getting to Leverage. (Because Christian Kane) Would love to see how Eliot would react to Dean if they ran across each other while the boys were on a hunt.

I mean come on this sounds amazing! I hope I did you justice and you like what I came up with. I also tried something different with the "mood board" or "photo card" do we like it? I mean I could find a photo of Christian Kane shirtless in a boxing ring (the tap out job) but Dean not one I like, and AI I could not for the life of me, make anything work. Please for the love of God, anyone out there that can make good AI fan art, teach me your ways, send me some basic prompts and settings that I need to use, I will be forever grateful.

But, again anyhoo....back to the story at hand:

Plot: Eliot Spencer from Leverage and Dean Winchester from Supernatural. The story follows them as they discover an underground fighting ring with supernatural elements and eventually team up to take it down. We also have appearances from Hardison, Parker, Sophie, Nate, and Sam Winchester to round out the supporting cast.

This is intended as a one shot, but I did leave the door open for a series or a follow up. Let me know in the comments, if that is something you all would like to see???? Suggestions on where this could go.

Word Count: 3K+

-Multi POV-

Feedback, likes and reblogs are always welcomed. Please don't post as your own work, this is my work. If you would like to be added to my tag list, just ask, I am always happy to add you.

Thanks!

-Eliot POV-

The warehouse district of Boston wasn't Eliot Spencer's favorite place to be at 2 AM on a Tuesday, but after three weeks of fighting in this underground ring, he was finally getting close to the real money. Tonight was the big one—a hundred grand in unmarked bills riding on his fight. Not for himself—those days were behind him—but for the job. Hardison had tracked suspicious financial movements to this fight club with stakes higher than any legitimate boxing commission would allow, and Eliot had gone in as a fighter to infiltrate from the inside.

"I don't like this, Eliot." Parker's voice crackled through his earpiece. "The heat signatures in that building don't make sense."

Eliot adjusted his jacket, sore muscles protesting from his previous fights. "What do you mean they don't make sense?"

"Some of them are... too hot. Like, way too hot for a human." There was concern in her voice, rare for someone who typically treated danger like a playground.

"It's probably just the thermal imaging acting up," Hardison chimed in. "These warehouse walls are thick, man."

"Stay focused, Eliot," Nate's steady voice cut in. "You've built your reputation as the Mountain Man for weeks now. Tonight we find out who's really behind this operation."

Eliot grunted. "I've beaten everyone they've put in front of me except the champion. Tonight I finally get my shot at him."

The doorman—all three hundred pounds of him—gave Eliot a respectful nod as he walked through. Several spectators recognized him, some slapping him on the back, others quickly moving out of his way. Three weeks of bruising victories had earned him both fans and respect in this underground circuit. The interior smelled of sweat, blood, and something else... sulfur? Eliot put that in the back of his mind as he made his way through the crowd. His eyes, as always, noted the exits, the guards, and the cage in the center where two men were currently beating each other senseless.

Or rather, one was beating the other senseless. The victor moved with a fluid grace that seemed almost inhuman. His eyes flashed—and for a moment, Eliot could have sworn they turned completely black.

"Found our guy," he muttered into his comm. "The winner in the cage. Something's off about him."

"Define 'off,'" Sophie's cultured voice replied.

"Eliot, get visual," Nate instructed. "Hardison needs to run facial recognition."

Before Eliot could answer, the announcer bellowed into the microphone: "AND STILL UNDEFEATED! THE DEMON OF DETROIT!"

The crowd roared as the fighter raised his arms, a malevolent grin spreading across his face.

"Looking for fresh meat!" The announcer continued. "Who's brave enough to challenge our champion?"

Eliot was about to volunteer when another voice rang out.

"I'll take him on!"

The crowd parted to reveal a tall man with close-cropped hair and a cocky grin. Something about him seemed familiar to Eliot—the stance, the awareness, the way his eyes scanned the room. This wasn't some amateur looking for glory. This was a professional.

The newcomer entered the cage, shrugging off a worn leather jacket, his red flannel, and black t-shirt to reveal his bare muscled chest. Raising up his arms, to get the crown on his side, some cheering him on, he moves around the ring, as he turns towards Eliot, Eliot can now see, near the man's left side of his chest near his heart what looked suspiciously like protective sigils tattooed.

"Name?" The announcer asked.

"Dean. Dean Winchester."

"Hardison, you getting this?" Nate asked over the comms. "Run this Dean Winchester through the system."

"Already on it," Hardison replied. "But I gotta tell you, this guy's record is... interesting. Multiple reports of death, grave desecration, impersonating federal agents. Either we're dealing with the world's luckiest criminal or something else entirely."

-Dean POV-

Dean hadn't expected to find a demon fighting ring in Boston, but the trail of mysteriously broken-necked losers had brought him here. Sam was working another angle—checking the morgue for sulfur residue on the corpses—while Dean went straight to the source.

The "Demon of Detroit" wasn't subtle with his nickname, but Dean doubted anyone here realized it was literal. The black eyes had confirmed his suspicions. Now he just needed to get close enough to exorcise the bastard before he killed anyone else.

What he hadn't counted on was being matched up against another fighter first—a compact, hard-looking man with long hair and a stare that could cut glass. The crowd was already chanting "Mountain Man" as the fighter approached the cage.

"Change of plans, folks!" The announcer called out. "Our new challenger will face our local favorite, the undefeated Mountain Man, before earning a shot at the champion!"

Dean cursed under his breath. This Mountain Man had clearly been fighting here for a while—the crowd loved him, and judging by the announcer's introduction, he hadn't lost a match yet. He looked like he knew what he was doing, and Dean couldn't afford to get beaten to a pulp before dealing with the actual demon.

As they circled each other in the cage, Dean tried to size up his opponent. The way this guy moved told Dean everything he needed to know—trained, experienced, and dangerous. Far more skilled than anyone else he'd seen in these kinds of underground fights.

"Hey, man, I'm not here for you," Dean said quietly.

The long-haired fighter didn't blink. His eyes showed a calculating intelligence that didn't match the typical brawler profile. "Then why are you here?"

"Would you believe I'm hunting a demon?"

That earned him a scoff. "Sure. And I'm here collecting Easter eggs."

The first punch came so fast Dean barely saw it, connecting with his jaw and sending him staggering back. He recovered quickly, blocking the next blow and countering with one of his own that the other man slipped with practiced ease.

"You're good," Dean admitted, tasting blood. "Military?"

"Something like that," the man replied, landing a kick to Dean's thigh that nearly buckled his knee. "You?"

Dean grinned through the pain. "Family business."

They exchanged blows for another minute, neither gaining a clear advantage, though Dean suspected the other man was holding back.

"Look," Dean grunted after barely dodging a lightning-fast combination, "I'm serious about the demon thing. The champion? Black eyes? Sulfur smell? Ringing any bells?"

The other fighter paused, reassessing Dean. "You're saying the champion is... actually a demon?"

"Bingo." Dean used the momentary distraction to pull a small flask from his pocket. "Holy water. Watch."

He unscrewed the cap and flicked a few drops toward the champion, who was watching their fight with interest from the side of the cage. The water hit his arm, and the skin immediately sizzled and smoked. The demon hissed, eyes flashing black.

The long-haired man's expression hardened. "I'll be damned."

"Not yet," Dean said, "but if we don't stop this thing, plenty of others will be."

-Eliot POV-

Eliot had seen a lot of strange things in his life—corrupt governments, experimental weapons, Hardison's attempts at cooking—but actual demons were new.

"Guys," he whispered into his comm, "you hearing this?"

"If you're asking if we heard that demons are real and currently running a fight club, then yeah," Hardison replied, voice higher than usual. "Man, I was happier not knowing that."

"Eliot," Parker cut in, "the thermal scan makes sense now. That champion guy is literally burning hotter than a human should."

"Stay calm, everyone," Nate's voice came through, steady as always despite the revelation. "If demons are real, then this is a lot bigger than we thought. Eliot, work with this Winchester character if you think he's legitimate. Sophie, I need you to start looking into occult connections with these fights."

The Winchester guy was eyeing him, waiting for a response. Eliot made a quick decision. "I'm Eliot Spencer. Sounds like we're both here to shut this operation down."

"Dean Winchester. And yeah, I'm here to exorcise that demon and find out who's behind this. These fights are being used to identify potential vessels—humans strong enough to contain powerful demons."

Eliot nodded. "My team tracked money from some suspicious deaths back to this place. We thought it was just illegal gambling."

"Oh, there's gambling alright," Dean said. "Just with souls instead of cash."

The announcer was getting impatient. "Fight or forfeit, gentlemen!"

Dean leaned in closer. "We need to make this look good, then take on the demon together. I've got holy water and salt, but I'll need a distraction to start the exorcism."

Eliot resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Holy water and salt? Why don't we just hit him really hard until he stops moving?"

"Because he's a demon," Dean said slowly, as if explaining to a child. "Physical damage won't stop him."

"You'd be surprised what physical damage can accomplish," Eliot muttered, but nodded his agreement. "Fine. Your way first. If that fails, we try mine."

"Eliot," Nate's voice came through his earpiece, "I'm sending Parker and Hardison to back you up. Sophie and I will work on identifying who's really pulling the strings here."

They started fighting again, this time choreographing it to look convincing while minimizing actual damage. Dean was skilled—not quite at Eliot's level, but he clearly had a lifetime of training.

"On three," Dean whispered after a particularly convincing exchange of blows, "I'll go down. You'll be declared the winner and face the demon. I'll circle around outside the cage."

Eliot nodded imperceptibly, then landed the pulled punch that Dean sold with an oscar-worthy performance, collapsing to the mat.

The crowd roared as Eliot was declared the winner. As promised, his next opponent would be the undefeated champion. As Dean was helped out of the cage—slipping away from his handlers at the first opportunity—Eliot prepared himself to face a literal demon.

"Hardison," he muttered, "I'm about to fight an actual demon. Any advice?"

"Besides 'don't'?" Hardison replied. "Man, I don't know. I'm still processing the fact that demons exist!"

"Focus, Eliot," Nate commanded. "Demon or not, this is just another opponent. Find its weakness and exploit it."

"Sophie, can you create a distraction if this goes south?" Eliot asked.

"Already on it," she replied smoothly. "I've identified the circuit breaker. On your signal, we can cut the lights."

The demon entered the cage, grinning at Eliot with malevolent confidence. Up close, the sulfur smell was overwhelming.

"You look tasty," the demon said, his voice oddly layered. "Strong vessel. Good soul. I'll enjoy wearing you to the prom."

"Yeah, not interested," Eliot replied, falling into his fighting stance.

The bell rang, and the demon attacked with inhuman speed. Eliot barely managed to dodge, countering with a strike to the kidney that would have dropped a normal man. The demon merely laughed.

From the corner of his eye, Eliot spotted Dean slipping along the edge of the crowd, a duffel bag now in his hand. Whatever plan the hunter had, Eliot needed to buy him time.

The demon landed a punch that felt like being hit by a truck. Eliot rolled with it, using the momentum to create distance. His ribs protested, and he tasted blood.

"Your friend was right," the demon taunted. "Holy water and salt are the traditional methods. But he forgot the most important thing—you need to trap me first."

"Good thing I didn't forget," Dean's voice called out as he flung a handful of white powder in a circle around the cage. Salt, Eliot realized. Completing a circle that Dean must have started laying down while everyone was distracted by the fight.

The demon snarled, lunging for Eliot with renewed fury, clearly hoping to finish the fight before Dean could complete whatever ritual he was planning.

"Now would be good!" Eliot shouted, barely avoiding a blow that would have crushed his windpipe.

Dean began reciting something in Latin, his voice carrying through the suddenly quiet warehouse. The crowd, confused but sensing something was wrong, began to murmur uneasily.

The demon screamed in rage, its attacks becoming wilder. Eliot took advantage, using the demon's fury against it, deflecting rather than blocking, conserving his strength.

"Sophie, lights!" he called.

The warehouse plunged into darkness, illuminated seconds later by emergency lights that cast everything in an eerie red glow. In the confusion, Dean had somehow made it into the cage and was continuing his Latin chant while flinging holy water at the demon, who screamed as each drop hit like acid.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus..." Dean continued, voice rising.

"Eliot, remember that move you used in Belgrade?" Nate's voice was calm but urgent in his ear. "The one that disrupted the energy flow? Try it now."

The demon, now desperate, broke through Eliot's guard and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off his feet. "I'll snap his neck before you finish, hunter!"

Eliot, vision darkening from lack of oxygen, did what he did best. He hit the demon. Hard. Right in the throat, using a strike he'd learned from a monastery in Tibet that was specifically designed to disrupt energy flow. It wasn't meant for demons, but apparently interdimensional entities still needed functioning vessels.

The demon's grip loosened enough for Eliot to break free, gasping for air.

"Keep chanting!" he rasped at Dean. "I've got this!"

"Holy water works better!" Dean argued, even as he continued the exorcism.

"Just finish the damn Latin!" Eliot snapped, launching into a flurry of strikes targeting nerve clusters and pressure points that would incapacitate even superhuman strength if hit precisely enough.

The demon staggered under the assault, its movements becoming jerky and uncoordinated. Dean's exorcism reached its crescendo, and the demon threw its head back, black smoke pouring from its mouth and eyes as it screamed in unholy agony.

The human host collapsed, unconscious but alive. Around them, chaos had erupted as the crowd realized something very wrong was happening. Several black-eyed individuals were trying to flee, only to be intercepted by a blonde woman wielding what looked like a taser and a tall, shaggy-haired man with a shotgun.

"That's my brother Sam," Dean explained, catching his breath. "Looks like your team met up with him."

"Parker and Hardison," Eliot nodded. "Sophie's probably already got the money trail locked down." He eyed Dean. "Not bad with the Latin. Still think a good punch works faster."

Dean rolled his eyes. "The punch wouldn't have expelled the demon. The exorcism did that."

"My punch gave you time to finish the exorcism," Eliot countered. "And it didn't require any arts and crafts supplies."

"It's not arts and crafts, it's—" Dean started, then stopped as he noticed more demons converging on their position. "We can argue methodology later. Right now, we've got more company."

Eliot cracked his knuckles. "Fine. We'll try it your way again. But if that doesn't work fast enough..."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean conceded, pulling out more holy water and a sawed-off shotgun loaded with salt rounds. "Then we punch things harder. I got it."

"Eliot, Dean, get ready," Nate's voice came through the comm. "Parker and Hardison have set up a trap by the east exit. Herd them that way."

Together, they turned to face the oncoming demons, an unlikely alliance of hitter and hunter, bound by a common enemy and a shared determination to protect the innocent—even if they couldn't agree on the best way to do it.

Three hours later, the warehouse was quiet again. The fighting ring had been dismantled, the demons exorcised, and the human organizers of the operation—a group of occultists trying to create the perfect vessels for higher-level demons—were zip-tied and waiting for the authorities, though their statements about demonic possession would likely land them in psychiatric care rather than prison.

"So you guys do this kind of thing often?" Eliot asked, pressing an ice pack to his bruised ribs as the two teams compared notes in the Leverage headquarters.

"Hunting demons? Yeah, family business," Dean replied. His brother Sam was deep in conversation with Hardison about tracking patterns of supernatural activity.

"And you... steal from the rich and give to the poor?" Sam asked, looking up from Hardison's array of screens.

"We provide... alternative leverage," Sophie explained diplomatically.

Nate sipped his whiskey thoughtfully. "We help people who have nowhere else to turn. When the law fails them, we provide... other options."

Parker, who had been studying Dean's collection of weapons with undisguised interest, picked up a flask of holy water. "So this stuff actually burns demons? That's so cool."

"Not as cool as watching Eliot punch that demon in the throat," Hardison added. "Man, I didn't think anything could make that thing flinch, and then you hit it with some Crouching Tiger Hidden Hitter move."

Eliot shrugged. "Just because something's supernatural doesn't mean it doesn't have weak points."

"Still," Dean insisted, "you need the right tools for the job. Holy water, salt, iron, Latin exorcisms—these things work because they have power over the supernatural."

"And a well-placed hit works because physics is physics," Eliot countered. "Even for demons."

Dean raised his hands in surrender. "Fine. Next time we fight a werewolf, you can try punching it while I use silver bullets, and we'll see who gets better results."

"Next time?" Sophie raised an eyebrow.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances. "This operation was bigger than just Boston," Sam explained. "We found evidence of similar fighting rings in five other cities. They're systematically testing human hosts for demon compatibility."

"That kind of geographical spread means serious organization," Nate mused, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Money trails, shell companies, probably legitimate businesses as fronts."

"Exactly," Sam nodded, impressed with Nate's quick grasp of the situation. "We've been tracking the supernatural side, but the human infrastructure behind it has been harder to crack."

"Well, that's our specialty," Nate smiled, a calculating look in his eyes that his team knew well. "I think we might have a mutually beneficial partnership opportunity here."

"Sounds like our kind of problem," Parker grinned.

"And the demons are definitely our kind of problem," Dean added.

Eliot looked at the hunter, a reluctant respect forming. "So what you're saying is..."

"We might need to work together again," Dean finished, extending his hand. "God help me, but your punch-first-ask-questions-later approach actually worked pretty well with our holy water."

Eliot shook the offered hand, his grip firm. "And I guess the Latin wasn't completely useless."

"High praise," Dean smirked.

"I'll start planning our approach," Nate said, already moving to the whiteboard. "Sophie, we'll need covers for multiple cities. Hardison, I want everything you can find on these fight promoters, investors, property holdings."

As the two teams continued sharing information, planning their next move against the supernatural fighting rings, Eliot couldn't help but wonder what other impossible things might exist in the world. Demons were real—what else might be lurking in the shadows?

One thing was certain: whatever came next, he'd face it the way he always did—head-on, fists ready. And if Dean Winchester insisted on bringing salt and holy water to the fight, well, Eliot supposed there were worse backup plans.

After all, when it came to taking down the bad guys—supernatural or otherwise—results were what mattered. And between his fists and Dean's arsenal, results were something they could definitely deliver.

19 notes · View notes

oldnumberseven · 2 months ago

Text

the beast you've made of me

When Alcide Herveaux takes over as Shreveport’s new packmaster, werebitches lay themselves down at his feet—except for one, who’s hell-bent on running away from the animal he brings out in her.

Inspired by ‘Howl’ by Florence and the Machine + Black Swan and Mirror!lander from The Boys

AO3

Tags/themes: MDNI/18+. NSFW. true blood, packmaster!Alcide/fem OC, evil twin, horror, swearing, size difference, non-negotiated predator/prey kink (but still consensual), dom Alcide, bratty OC, unprotected explicit smut (use protection irl please), multiple orgasms, aftercare

Word Count: 6.7k

Author’s note: well, this was an idea I had for Kinktober that I didn’t finish on time and then it turned into something completely different. Thank you very much to the True Blood discord community for beta-ing this and @blindmagdalena for pred/prey reference material inspo. I’ve never done a one shot before and I tried a new writing style, so this was hella hard for me. But enjoy! There’s not enough Alcide stuff out there.

Credits: I made the opening banner, but I found the images and gifs on Google. If they are yours, please let me know and I’ll add credit! Divider by thecouncilmakes.

Henrietta skidded to a stop in her driveway, her truck tires screeching as loose gravel flew in every direction. Her heart was pounding—boom, boom!—but she didn’t stop to catch her breath. Instead, she sprinted towards her house to throw a few belongings into a suitcase.

She had to get away. Before it was too late.

Her clammy, shaking hands dove into her drawers and pulled out whatever was at the top. A pair of nice jeans, an old sports bra, mismatched socks, a black hoodie, a lacy pair of panties; she wasn’t thinking clearly. Everything was a blur until she looked up and caught herself in the mirror attached to the top of her wooden dresser.

She paused for the first time since the fight, taking in her reflection. A few bits of long brown hair had escaped her bun; her hazel eyes were full of fear. Then the lights flickered. And the Henrietta staring back at her started moving independently, her full lips curling into a sinister smirk. Her blood ran cold when she recognized the wolf inside her.

The bloodthirsty beast she’d been running from.

It would always be a part of her; her parents were weres and had passed their supernatural genetics onto her. Yet, she hated her feral urges and had repressed them ever since she was a teenager. They terrified her and threatened her illusion of control, her dream of having a quiet existence. Henrietta only registered with Shreveport’s pack after she moved there from her hometown of Houston because she’d heard how much lone wolves provoked the old packmaster, Marcus. His successor, JD, was no different. She went to gatherings because the rules dictated it (not because she wanted to) and kept to the edges to stay out of the spotlight.

She shifted during the full moon when she had no choice, but when she occasionally caught the other side of her in the mirror, it was easy to walk away and forget it existed.

But not tonight.

“You really think you can keep me in, darlin’?”

It was the first time she’d ever heard the wolf speak. Her Southern drawl was thick as molasses with each vowel lengthened.

“Go a-away,” Henrietta stuttered. “I don’t want you here.”

“Oh, but I think you do,” her twin chuckled. She placed her hands on the dresser and hunched forward, tilting her head.

“No. I don’t.”

“Yes. You do. Because I’ll make sure you get him.”

The wolf’s eyes flashed and Henrietta jumped out of her skin, her arm smacking against the wood in front of her. She inhaled sharply, cradled her hand to her chest and looked away from the mirror as she tried to fight the scenes from earlier in the night flashing through her brain. JD calling a mandatory meeting she couldn’t ignore, stringing up a vampire, pouring his blood into cups so the pack could drink, Alcide appearing out of nowhere to challenge him for a second time, the way he’d kicked the absolute shit out of JD, blood everywhere until he finally snapped his neck, his eyes glowing—

Henrietta shuddered; her reflection’s smirk returned.

“I don’t want Alcide.”

“Liar, liaaaaaar!” came the sing-song reply. “You’ve had a crush ever since you laid eyes on that sweet fella. Although he wasn’t that sweet tonight. And you loved that.”

It was true. Watching her kindred spirit go from a lone wolf to a dominant packmaster had ignited something deeper within Henrietta. The goosebumps spreading across her skin, the way her heart jumped to her throat … that wasn’t fear. That was an intense, carnal need. She wanted him to claim her as his werebitch, throw her down, ravage the fuck out of her—

“Stop it.” She didn’t know if she was talking to herself or the wolf.

“You want him.” The face in the mirror grinned like a madwoman. “Accept it.”

Henrietta crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing.

“He wouldn’t want you,” she challenged. “He’s different.”

The wolf threw her head back, let out a barking laugh and replied, “Yeah? And how’s that ‘normal girl’ routine working for you so far, hmm?”

Henrietta gulped, not wanting to admit that he’d barely ever spoken to her.

“Newsflash, honey. Alcide likes feisty. Debbie, Rikki too, lord. And let’s face it, all them other bitches swarming him after the fight are stronger than you. You need me. Cuz I’ll show him a damn good time.” Her twin snapped her pointy teeth and let out a low, hungry growl to drive her point home.

Henrietta immediately turned away. Although the beast had her face, it was nothing like her meek, human secretary side. No, it was unruly and violent. A hairy, grotesque killer and the opposite of feminine. Alcide couldn’t want that. No one wanted that.

Still, she came back to the mirror. Because after seeing his raw and unfiltered side tonight, maybe she was wrong. Maybe he did want the wolf. JD had a thing for weak, scrawny little things, not Alcide. He protected them, but he didn’t sleep with them. And God, now that she had stopped lying to herself, she desperately wanted to sleep with him.

“Yeah, that’s right, look at me,” the mirror encouraged. “Look at me.”

As much as Henrietta wanted to keep packing, she couldn’t. Her gaze was glued to the reflective glass, hypnotized by the thing she’d long kept in a cage. The side of her she refused to accept.

“Come on, Hen.” A taunt her brother used when she was being a little chicken shit. “Let me out. Let him see the real you. The one you’re meant to be.”

The offer was tempting beyond belief. No more hiding, no more dual personalities; the secretary and wolf would be one. Instinctually, Henrietta’s hand reached out toward her reflection, longing for it to be her reality. But the fantasy cracked when her fingers touched the glass and her human senses kicked in. Her vacant stare quickly morphed into a fearful look.

No. No! The wolf had to stay locked away. For good.

Her twin lunged forward, but Henrietta’s panicked reflexes were faster. Her hand gripped the side of the mirror, and with a forceful grunt, she ripped it from the dresser and threw it to the ground to destroy the connection. It shattered upon impact, shards of glass scattering across the floor. Yet, she caught the wolf’s hungry eyes in one of the pieces and could hear a threatening laugh bouncing around the room.

Silly human. It’s going to take more than that.

No! The beast was still free! Henrietta yelped, her back hitting the wall behind her. She took a few raspy, bewildered breaths and didn’t stay put for long. She grabbed her suitcase, even though she wasn’t done packing, and ran back to her truck.

She had to leave. Now.

She yanked the driver’s side door open and hopped into the front seat, quickly turning the keys in the ignition. She avoided the rearview mirror at all costs and backed out of the driveway, peeling out of her property. The truck was soon flying down the dark country roads and her nerves were shot as she pressed the gas pedal all the way to the floor. She aimed to hightail it south to Highway 20 and flicked her left turn signal in anticipation.

Tick! Tick! Tick!

But when Henrietta came to the stop sign, her foot stayed on the gas and she rolled through the intersection. Wait, huh? No. No, no. She was going back to Texas. She was leaving! Her brain screamed at her to turn, but her hands didn’t move, keeping her straight.

Tick! Tick! Tick!

It was like she’d been drugged; she could sense everything that was happening even though she wasn’t in control of her body. The slow country ballad playing on the radio drowned out her internal screams.

Tick! Tick! Tick!

It wasn’t until Henrietta saw a sign for Caddo Lake that she realized what was happening. She was retracing her route from earlier that evening, the one she took to comply with JD’s mandatory meeting request. A place where the rest of the pack would likely still be running wild with their new packmaster.

Alcide.

It was like she awoke from a nightmare with a sudden jolt; the secretary was finally driving again. Her right foot slammed on the brake—causing the truck to swerve out of control—and she prayed for her life when it threw her back into her seat and drifted to the side of the road. When she finally came to a stop, her forgotten left turn signal was still on, mocking her alongside the wolf’s laugh.

Tick! Tick! Tick!

Henrietta flipped the signal off and gulped down deep oxygen pulls to calm herself down. Tears pricked the edge of her eyes. The truck’s cabin quickly became too small, too confined, and she turned off the engine and spilled out into the night air to combat her claustrophobia. Her legs took her in circles; she walked in the middle of the road and her escape plan fell to the wayside.

But when a loud, piercing howl echoed through the woods, she froze, her eyes growing wide. Instinctively, she looked at the truck’s side mirror and caught the wolf’s stare.

That wasn’t me, darlin’. Looks like you’ve got company.

It had to be someone from the pack; they must have heard her almost crash. Henrietta bolted back to the truck to flee, yet when her fingers curled under the door handle and desperately pulled, nothing moved.

“Come on, come on!”

She whined as she fiddled with the handle again, but deep down, she knew she’d left the keys in the ignition and the truck’s automatic locks had kicked in the moment she’d shut the door behind her. Stupid, stupid! Why did she have to be so paranoid and keep that setting on? It’s not like anyone would steal the decaying heap of scrap metal.

Suddenly, a shiver ran down her spine and the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. Her eyes nervously darted around until they landed on something moving further up the road: a white blur coming closer and closer. It didn’t take long for her to recognize the threat.

It was him. There was no mistaking his unique pelt.

Even though her inner voice was yelling for her to do something, anything, Henrietta remained frozen on the spot as Alcide caught up to her and slowed to a jaunty trot. Her hands shook; her stomach churned; she couldn’t breathe. More memories from the fight emerged, distracting her even further—Ain’t no such thing as too much V, That’s enough JD!, punches flying, Alcide’s vicious and powerful grunts, the way she started to lose her composure, the soft mewls that involuntarily tumbled out of her mouth, her body quivering with impatient longing …

… which swiftly returned when he transformed into his naked human form and began closing the distance between them with a swagger that only a packmaster could carry. Her blood sang for him and only him and she began to ache between her legs, something that felt wrong alongside her shock and dread. Her dilated eyes drifted over his chiseled physique and the wolf let out a ravenous, wanton howl.

Well, well, well. Look at the dick on this one. All the better to fuck me with—

“Henrietta,” he interrupted. “What are you doing here?”

The right answer, of course, was the truth. When Alcide laid down the new laws (respect the pack, no more V, no more harming the innocent) and said if someone didn’t like it, they had 24 hours to leave or face him, she’d chosen to run. Not because she disagreed with his stance but because she couldn’t face him. What he brought out in her. Yet, here she was, desperately wanting to drag her nails down his back.

But Henrietta couldn’t find the words to tell him; she was too rooted in her fear, her conflicting hunger for him. And so, she watched Alcide make his own inferences and determine that if she’d left and come back, then she wanted a fight. A challenge to his new rule. Something he couldn’t have.

He took a menacing step towards her, his monstrous body eclipsing her just over five feet tall frame. Henrietta inhaled a sharp breath in response. She didn’t want to fight him and he, in turn, seemed poised to kill her to protect the pack. Her eyes widened in terror. A tight knot formed in her stomach, pushing aside her desire. She moved backward when he took another step and hit the side of her truck, finding nowhere to go.

“Go on,” he growled. “Make your move.”

And with a flash, those damn yellow eyes were back, threatening to tear her apart.

The wolf panted, salivated, whined, scratched, growled and yearned to be free. To meet Alcide’s beast now that he was so fucking close. And the secretary almost let herself go. Yet, just like during the pack fight, her human fear still had an iron grip on the wolf’s cage to keep it shut. She couldn’t let herself dissolve into madness. She needed to exert control to keep herself on track, hold herself back from running over the cliff into the unknown.

She still panicked, suddenly mobile. Because when it came to fight or flight, Henrietta had a long history of running instead of standing her ground. She didn’t have the size, courage or strength to win. Alcide’s arms stretched out to grab her, but her dainty body did her a favor for once. She managed to duck out of the way and dart around the truck to sprint off into the woods behind it, her heart thumping against her rib cage and threatening to explode.

You stupid fucking human! You think you can win against him?

The wolf had a point. In a blink of an eye, Alcide had transformed back into an animal and was hot on her tail, gaining more ground every second. Her two feet were no match for his four paws. But Henrietta kept running and running and running, from him and the beast within her. She couldn’t give in; it would be a betrayal of the entire life she’d built.

Sweat poured down her face as she kept up the pace despite her stamina hitting a plateau. She knew she couldn’t outrun him forever and her eyes searched for some sort of advantage. A ditch she could lure him into. A tree she could climb. Oh God, anything to get away from him!

Yet, Alcide reminded her he was no simple animal; he was a werewolf, specifically one who’d taken V earlier. He’d already killed once tonight and showed he’d do it again in service of his pack when he let out a deep snarl and snapped his teeth just shy of her calf. Henrietta’s surprised yelp echoed through the swampland trees.

LET ME OUT, BITCH! OR YOU’RE GOING TO DIE!

No! NO! She didn’t want to die! She wanted to live, get away from Louisiana and start again. Blend into the background and stay human. Human! She couldn’t submit! When Alcide lunged for her again though, the wolf slammed against the cage bars to save her life and the secretary’s grip couldn’t hold her back anymore.

Her animal broke free.

Henrietta’s primal instincts took full control. She became airborne and burst out of her clothes, her bones cracking and reforming themselves. She fluidly landed with four legs and hit the ground running with a sick thrill, rejoicing as her innermost wants and desires rose to the surface and stayed there with no resistance in sight.

FUUUUUUCK! It had been decades since she’d transformed outside the full moon. She felt feral, whole. Giddy and relieved to be free from that ever-present nausea that gurgled around in her stomach when she was trapped in her human form. She wanted to stop and let out a roaring howl that could shake the entire state.

But she didn’t have time to revel in her newly found wild edge; Alcide was still hot on her tracks, unfazed by her transformation. No matter. Now that the secretary had been banished to the backseat where she belonged, the wolf could handle him.

She learned from her earlier size advantage by the truck and sharply cut to the left, catching him by surprise. He slammed into a tree and left a hefty dent in the trunk before racing to catch up with her. The two wolves scampered through the backwoods and her movements became more agile and playful as she dodged his advances, even shaking her rump a few times to entice him. And once, his resolve seemed to weaken in response to her wiles before he snapped back in and kept up the grueling hunt.

But she was careful not to get too far away. Henrietta wanted to be caught.

She could tell Alcide was getting frustrated and intentionally slowed, letting him get deliciously close before she faked getting clipped by a passing log and tumbled to the ground, her limbs flying in all directions. She made sure to land on her back to show her belly, a sign of submission in female wolves. Alcide took the bait and immediately pounced. His paws landed on her shoulders, pinning her to the ground, and when he moved to take a bite out of her neck, Henrietta switched back to her human body in full surrender.

All part of the game. If she stayed a wolf, he’d likely be swept up in his animalistic tendencies and kill her. She knew she could play to his human side if she showed a little pale skin.

The ploy worked; Alcide paused, his teeth bared and chest heaving with heavy breaths. Even though he’d relented, a deep growl rumbled from his throat to show her who was still in charge.

The secretary threatened to come back to life now that Henrietta was in her human form, but the wolf took revenge and threw her into the cage that had housed her for years. Locked her away so she couldn’t interfere. Not this time. Not when she had Alcide right where she wanted him. Instead, Henrietta focused on the large white wolf bearing over her, his yellow eyes dilated almost black. She took in his natural musk full of spice and earth and shuddered as her toes began to curl. She wanted him to possess her, she was dripping wet already, holy shit—

Alcide took in a deep sniff, the smell of her arousal assaulting him now that her fear had fully melted away. He tilted his head in surprise and returned to his own human body, although he still caged her against the ground with his hands.

“You’re enjoying this,” he remarked quizzically. She let out a barking laugh.

“Why, of course I am, darlin’!” Her eyes never broke contact with his as she tilted her chin up with glee and swiped her nails across his torso to give him hefty scratch marks. Still acting like unwilling prey to turn him on.

Alcide recoiled momentarily in confusion, never seeing this side of her before. But when she licked her lips and gave him a ‘you better fuck me right now, you filthy animal’ look, he understood and decided to give in to one of the rewards of being a packmaster, as she’d hoped he might. He did have a thing for crazy bitches, after all. In one swift motion, he grabbed her hands and kept them over her head, a smirk not far behind.

“Stay still.”

There was no way in hell she would when his knees were flush up against the outside of her thighs. Their skin contact was so intoxicating; Henrietta craved more of it, hot with anticipation. Fuck, his enormous manhood was just hanging there too, waiting for her to do something. She canted her hips upwards, lightly brushing against it before Alcide responded with force, clamping his legs to keep her from moving.

His mouth hovered right next to her ear and an amused tut escaped his lips. “Does your master need to teach you a lesson? To behave? ”

This was her dream. An absolutely smoking hot packmaster—someone she’d been salivating over for months—was naked as the day he was born and so was she, trapped underneath him with nowhere to go. Oh, the fun they were going to have. The secretary only had simple vanilla sex and the wolf knew this would be anything but.

“Go ahead and try, big boy.”

The resistance spurred him on and Henrietta cried out in surprise when he broke the tender skin of her neck to mark his territory. The pressure from his mouth was sharp, strong and sensual. Better than she could have imagined. She let out a husky moan when Alcide’s tongue licked a perverted line up to her earlobe and caught it between his teeth with a tug.

“You’ll do as I say,” he commanded, inhaling her scent.

“Make me,” she taunted right back.

His onslaught became relentless and unyielding; his bite moved back down her neck and left marks on her shoulder, collar bone and finally, her breast. Henrietta’s back arched (fuck, fuck, fuck —that felt gooooooood ) and he forcefully gathered both of her wrists into his left hand before his right pushed her ribcage back to the ground.

“I said stay still.”

Fine. Fine! She could do that for now; she needed him to keep going. Because a debauched desire was building inside her the more they played their game and fuck, it needed a release. His mouth found her chest again and caught one of her nipples between his lips as a reward for her submission … until she couldn’t help but disobey and keen for things to go faster. It was simply too fun to antagonize him.

“Be quiet. Or I’ll make you,” he said gruffly, his commanding packmaster tone returning and driving her crazy. It spurred her to resist again. She wriggled against his hold and her ragged breaths became louder and louder as he turned his attention to her other breast. She pushed him even further with a soft “fuck!” and Alcide finally abandoned his task, capturing her mouth with his to force her to be quiet.

Henrietta greedily savored his heated kiss, his dominating tongue smothering her cries; she lost herself in his flavor as he devoured her whole. Mmmmmmm. But when his teeth hastily scraped against her tongue, she sprang into action and rushed upwards, biting down on his bottom lip hard. He began to pull back and she refused to let go, a hungry growl escaping as she continued to tug.

Alcide’s hand grabbed her jaw and a surge of that familiar need jolted through her. She relented, letting go of his lip and nestling back onto the ground. Henrietta expected him to withhold as punishment for her outburst but was surprised by his next move.

“I’ll have to try something more drastic. To make you obey.”

He let go of her chin, forcefully shoved her knees apart and buried his face in her cunt with a snarl.

Henrietta gasped—an incredulous smile bursting across her face—and her eyes began to roll back into her head, her lashes fluttering as his tongue flicked against her clit. Her body jerked in response to one particularly furious swirl and Alcide’s dominant hands dug into her hip bones to keep her rooted to the spot. His reminder that while she had more freedom, he was still in control. She had to behave for him. Of course, that made her writhe even further, but his grip was too strong and her own hands clenched the dirt beneath her as she held on for dear life. Each lick, each lap fed her hunger while simultaneously making her crave more.

And without a warning or announcement, he gave her more; two of his fingers pushed inside her and Henrietta bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a moan. An explosive pulse ripped through her, quickly followed by another one that was just as w-o-n-d-e-r-f-u-l. Alcide’s mouth still teased her clit while he snuck in a third and worked her open as he pumped in and out. Crooking his fingers to find that spot that made her quiver.

More pulses shot through her until she couldn’t hold back any longer and her body gave way. A flash of white light streaked across her eyelids as she came and she sighed, melting into the earth shortly afterwards. She didn’t get a moment to bask in the afterglow and drink in the luxurious heat spreading across her skin, though.

“Again,” Alcide ordered.

He pounced, quickly moving up her body and using one of his hands to thrust his hard cock into her entrance. Despite the earlier work with his fingers, it still felt like he was splitting her in two. A delightful shock that rendered her speechless. She gulped as she adjusted to his size and his face—her slick still clinging to his beard—hovered over hers. He licked the edges of his canines; he knew she was struggling to fight back with each snap of his hips.

The pleasure started breaking her will, just as he’d planned.

But Henrietta wasn’t quite done resisting yet. The squelching sounds of him fucking her raw without protection (something the secretary would never do) turned her on to no end, stimulating her animalistic breeding kink. The thought of potentially carrying her packmaster’s baby lit a fire within her and she let out wild grunts as she took him and matched his pace. Fuck, fuck! She gripped his shoulders, dug her nails into his skin and raked her hands downwards to scratch him again as he slammed into her over and over and over.

Alcide hissed when she drew blood and roughly threw her right leg up towards her shoulder to find a deeper fit. It was borderline painful at first, but Henrietta still pushed back against each slide in and out, which melted the tension away and brought her closer to the brink. He resumed his thunderous pace and she whined as the heat between them consumed her, finally burning away her defiance. It didn’t take long for her to tumble over the edge; her release was ardent and fierce, the kind that knocked the wind out of her sails.

Even though he’d won, broken her … she still didn’t get a chance to catch her breath.

“Again.”

Her eyes widened when Alcide’s strong hands lifted her and flipped her over to her hands and knees with ease; her size was nothing compared to his. She barely caught her balance before he lined his cock up and pounded into her from behind. Doggy style. And he wasn’t gentle either. His fingers gripped her hips (surely leaving some bruises) and his movements went into a vigorous overdrive. FUUUUUUUCK! Henrietta wasn’t prepared to keep going after such earth shattering orgasms and floated on the edge of ecstasy and overstimulation, stars beginning to dance in her field of vision. It was so much, almost too much—

“You. Will. Obey. Your. Pack. Master!” Alcide barked, each word punctuated by one of his punishing thrusts.

She couldn’t even put two words together in her head, still too enthralled by the way he completely filled her, left her empty, then overwhelmed her cunt once more. Repeating the cycle again and again and again. The complete surrender to him was sublime, she didn’t want him to stop. It was like an out-of-body experience, disassociating from the wolf, the secretary, the entire world …

Yet, he didn’t care how cockdrunk she was. “Answer. Me.”

A mixture of whimpers and sobs poured out of her lips instead of the words he wanted to hear. Still not good enough. He gripped her flesh tighter and jackhammered into her with even more force.

“Say it!”

Her eyes flashed yellow before he tore her to absolute pieces and forced both of her releases.

“Y-yes!” she finally submitted.

Her rapturous climax followed, a muted wheeze eking past her lips.

Alcide let out a victorious, booming howl and emptied himself inside her seconds later.

She went from the highest high to the lowest low; Henrietta’s weak limbs turned to jelly and slumped towards the ground as she dropped and crashed at the bottom. Her mental cage was nowhere in sight (obliterated by her third release) and her wolf and human sides existed within the same space of her brain. She went around in circles, feeling extremely fulfilled but also confused about why she got such mind-numbing pleasure from it all. She didn’t notice Alcide starting to adjust back to himself. She was dizzy and exhausted and—

“Hey, hey,” he cut in, his voice much more tender now that he’d shed his role. “Are you alright?”

She collapsed into a pile, unable to hold herself up anymore; the ground was cold and hard against her body. Alcide settled down beside her, swept her into his arms and softly pressed her against his chest. Henrietta thought to recoil from such a gesture—ashamed of what had happened—but his scent and warmth soothed her. She took in a shuddering, deep breath and melted into him, pressing her face against his skin and closing her eyes in an attempt to settle her mind.

“Did I … cross a boundary?”

The secretary took her turn. “No. I’ve just … never done that before.” Then the wolf. “I loved every second of it.”

He pulled her closer and his chest rumbled with a chuckle.

“Then I suppose we’ll have to use a safe word next time. To make sure nothing goes too far.”

Henrietta’s brows shot up in surprise, pushing aside any thoughts of how, yes, they should have discussed the ground rules of their game before playing. Next time? There was going to be a next time? One side of her couldn’t believe it; the other desperately craved another round. Her body involuntarily shivered and a wave of chills flooded down her spine. It was cold but also refreshing and arousing.

“And I’m sure there’s more we could adjust. But for now,” Alcide continued, “let’s get you home.”

Right. Home. She was thankful he was still with it enough to make the right decision for them both, seeing as they shouldn’t spend the rest of the night naked in the middle of the swampland. The game was finished, the fantasy slowly evaporating. It was time to get back to the real world, as much as she hated to admit it. But how exactly she would adjust to her old reality was a mystery. How could she when everything had changed, her two personalities now side by side without a barrier?

Alcide released his hold to stand and her arms immediately reached out to keep touching him. He was her anchor and she wasn’t ready to let go just yet. He shot her a smile and extended his hand to pull her to her feet. Seconds later, she was standing beside him and he didn’t let go of her as he started to walk back towards the road. Henrietta’s legs and thought patterns were unfocused and wobbly (not entirely adjusted from her drop), but Alcide patiently remained by her side to guide her.

The dirt finally turned into concrete; her truck sat yards away, just where they’d left it. As her packmaster walked towards it, the first dose of the real world hit.

Her voice was breathy and meek. “It’s locked. With the keys inside.” Shit, what were they going to do? She was in no state to shift and run miles home.

Alcide wasn’t concerned. He looked back at her with a mischievous grin. “I’ll repay you, I promise.”

Before she could ask what he was talking about, his balled up fist smashed through the back window and she jumped in shock as the glass sprayed across the second row seat. Alcide reached inside, curled his arm forward and pushed a button on the driver’s side door, unlocking the rest of the truck with ease before brushing any remnants on the front seat out into the road. Careful not to cut his bare skin before he slipped into the truck.

“You coming or what?” he teased over his shoulder.

It took her a second to process what had just happened, but Henrietta sheepishly saddled up to the passenger side, opened her door and joined him. Once her flesh hit the upholstery, she was starkly reminded that her clothes were torn to shreds somewhere in the woods and they’d both have to stay naked the entire ride home. She attempted to cover herself with her arms—what if someone saw them or God forbid, they got pulled over?—and Alcide didn’t seem to share her shame as he twisted the keys in the ignition and the engine hummed with life.

”Alright, tell me where to head.”

“Ummm,” she faltered. His hand on her thigh was too distracting. “Make a u-turn and go back the other way.”

They retraced her steps from earlier in the night and Henrietta still felt dizzy as she bounced between her selves; the wolf loved that his hand never moved from its position and the secretary was hard at work to remember how to direct him to her house. It was unfamiliar to be so uninhibited and when Alcide started to hum along with the radio and tap her leg to the beat, she stared at him incredulously. How was he so in control of himself?

Her uneasiness accelerated when the second reality shock hit as they pulled into her driveway. Her lights were still on and she knew the door was open; she hadn’t cared about any of those details as she rushed to leave earlier that night.

“Don’t tell me you’re locked out of your house, too,” he joked. She shook her head. “Good. Come on, then.”

His fingers lingered on her shoulder blades as he led her to the front porch. Henrietta was thankful for his steady demeanor and that her property was rather secluded, not wanting to explain herself to any nosy neighbors. Like a true gentleman, he held the door open and motioned for her to enter first. Henrietta obliged but froze when she looked at the mess she’d left.

“Sorry” was the only thing that tumbled out of her mouth. Otherwise, she turned mute, mortified at the state of her place.

“Sit,” he coaxed, gesturing to her couch.

He didn’t need any dominance in his voice to get her to cooperate; she plopped onto it while he wandered into the kitchen. She sat in silence, her exhaustion hitting her like a freight train and she sank into the pillows, feeling small. Barely hearing sounds in the other room—the opening of cabinets, rustle of dishware, whoosh of water from the tap, hum of the refrigerator, thuds of a knife hitting a cutting board and footsteps that continued back into the living room. Alcide returned with a full glass of water and snack plate, placing them on the coffee table and settling beside her. He reached over, grabbed a blanket off the other side of the couch and wrapped it around them.

“Eat.”

Henrietta didn’t want to leave his embrace at first. His warm skin just felt right against hers, but the collection of crackers, apple slices and cheese (man, how did he know that was her true weakness?) was tempting enough to get her to move. She leaned forward and took a sip from the glass before compiling a layered combination of food that she popped into her mouth.

And as she leaned back into his chest, her body and mind finally began to relax. Muscles unclenched, anxious thoughts faded into the background. Her heart rate slowed for the first time since the pack fight. She realized she hadn’t actually had dinner that night and the snack satisfied a hunger she didn’t know she’d been suffering from. Moreover, the juicy, tangy and savory flavors hitting all at once fed something deeper within her.

Why did it matter that she was human sometimes, a wolf another? Why did they have to be separate when they could coexist and bring about something more enjoyable together? Wasn’t that better than keeping them locked away from one another?

Wasn’t that natural?

It was the first time in her life she’d ever seriously considered the possibility. If Alcide could do it, so could she.

Alcide’s fingers brushed up and down against her shoulder and she closed her eyes and sighed contently as a profound release left her body. Her brain was still fuzzy—but now in a satisfied and pleased way—and she rolled her head back onto her shoulders and reached out for more food. The secretary said she needed the sustenance and the wolf agreed. This time, she grabbed a bigger portion and offered some to her packmaster, who accepted it with a chuckle and shoved the pile into his mouth.

His laughter was contagious and Henrietta felt herself following suit with a giggle of her own. She comically stretched her arms in the air and draped herself over his lap, staring up at him while he toyed with her rat's nest hair.

“Thank you,” she said. “For taking care of me.”

In more ways than he realized.

He smiled down at her before grabbing some water and taking a couple sips himself. “My pleasure.”

Henrietta closed her eyes and melted into her surroundings. Each breath was easy and enjoyable instead of shallow and panicked. She felt happy, a strange feeling compared to how she’d left the house. But she didn’t question it. Instead, she welcomed the euphoria … until her nose twitched and caught a rather unpleasant scent. One eyelid lifted as she inhaled more and realized it was coming from her; she was covered in stale sweat and swamp earth. Not to mention the aftermath of hot, nasty sex.

“Ummm … would you mind if I took a shower?” the secretary asked shyly. “I think I need it.”

“You and me both.” He quirked a brow. “Can I join?”

The wolf pounced at the opportunity. “Only if you can fit, big boy.”

Alcide surprised her by gathering her in his arms and carrying her over to the bathroom; Henrietta squeaked with delight and kicked her legs. He nudged the door open, put her on the ground and finally understood her earlier comment. Her place only had a small stall shower that didn’t afford much room. But they still made it work, taking turns under the spray and lathering each other up with soap suds to wash off.

Neither of them were in the right place to resume their earlier fucking, but that didn’t stop them from still exploring each other’s bodies. Their touch was slower and tender, nothing compared to the rawness during their game. Each kiss was featherlight and sentimental. It warmed Henrietta’s heart, completing the rise from the abyss she’d landed in after both their releases.

“I’ll let you finish up,” he said, smoothing her wet hair back and kissing her forehead before leaving the shower and closing the door behind him.

Henrietta took a moment to stand underneath the hot barrage of water (a poor substitute for Alcide’s warm body) and soak in the happy feeling that just wouldn’t go away. She sighed as the corners of her mouth lifted. Yet, every part of her pulled her to wash off the remaining soap, leave the shower, wrap a fluffy towel around her and find her packmaster. She couldn’t bear to be away from him for too long.

When she found him in her bedroom, he was just finishing up sweeping the remnants of her broken dresser mirror into a dustpan. He turned to reciprocate her satisfied stare, water droplets running down the V of his abs and colliding with her small bath towel slung around his hips. Henrietta felt the carnal fire return; the secretary howled and the wolf blushed.

Oh yes. There would definitely be a next time.

#true blood #true blood fanfic #alcide herveaux #alcide herveaux smut #alcide herveaux fanfic #werewolf smut #werewolf fanfiction #black swan #mirrorlander

17 notes · View notes