#it is very much a dark fantasy au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fairyhaos · 28 days ago

Text

yeoubi. // chwe hansol

여우비 (yeo-u-bi) : noun. literally “fox rain” — when sunlight filters through rainfall, creating a golden shower.

PAIRING : vernon x f!reader

INFO : east asian historical fantasy(ish. i kinda made up my own mythology), fox demon!vernon, silver!vernon, immortal!witch!yn, fluff, magic, strangers to lovers

WORD COUNT : 22.3k+

WARNINGS : blood mention, injuries, slight discrimination against yokai, cursing

NOTES : for the @camandemstudios winter with you collab! i had so so so much fun writing yeoubi and it's genuinely one of the best things ive done this year. writing a fantasy au soft vernon fic was never something that i thought i needed to write, but now i have, and i love him and i love this and i hope everyone loves yeoubi just as much as i do too <3

SYNOPSIS : living as a magic, immortal healer in a rural, human mountain village means most of your existence has been rather peaceful. that is, until one cold winter when an injured yokai stumbles into your life; and though everyone else is terrified of him, you take him in, nurse him back to health, and show the others that some demons aren’t that scary after all. (...and maybe, just maybe, you end up falling for the pretty fox yokai too.)

For the first time in years, the river freezes over.

During winter, it’s often a lot harder for you to notice things like this, as the cold dulls your senses and numbs your fingers, so you’re only informed of this fact when the village children come to your cottage in the morning, their high-pitched voices blending with the mismatched beats of their fists knocking against your door.

“Miss Witch! Miss Witch! There’s something wrong with the river!”

“The river is all solid, Miss Witch!”

“Miss Witch, we can’t play in the river! Can you fix it for us, Miss Witch?”

Blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you open the door with a groggy smile, squinting down at the children on your doorstep.

“Hello, little kids. What are you doing here?”

“Miss Witch!” one of the children chirps. “Good morning!”

Despite being half-asleep, you can’t help but laugh a little at their chipperness. The children are, undeniably, your favourite people in this entire village.

“Good morning,” you say, bemused. “How may I help you?”

Their voices rise in volume again, all of them clamouring to be heard over each other. It can’t be any later than five in the morning, and your fingertips prickle with the cold grey of the mist as you blink down at them, surprised at their energy.

A girl tugs at the end of your blanket, wide-eyed. “Miss Witch, the river is all hard. We don’t know what’s going on.”

“Ah,” you say gently. “I see.” Crouching down so you’re at eye level with the kids, you ask, “If the river is hard, solid, and cold, what do you think that means?”

The children blink at you.

“What else is hard, solid, and cold?”

One of them brightens. “Ice!”

“Exactly,” you say, smiling. “The river has turned into ice. It’s nothing to worry about, but it does mean it’s very, very cold right now, so why aren’t any of you wearing any hats or scarves, hm?”

You ruffle the hair of the nearest child, and she shakes her head, giggling. “We were helping the grown-ups, of course! Something happened at the river, an’ they told us to go away.”

“So we came to you,” another boy pipes up. “They said something’s wrong!”

You tilt your head. Whilst it’s certainly been several decades since the river last froze over, it’s no reason for the villagers to worry that much about it. It’s also not something that your magic can fix, or something that needs to be fixed, so—

“Y/N!”

You look up at the call, and see a man in the distance, jogging down the pathway towards your cottage. It’s still far too dark to see clearly, but you smile at the familiar voice.

“Soonyoung,” you call back. “Good morning! Are you here to tell me about the frozen river, too? Don’t worry, it’s completely normal and not dangerous at all.”

His reply, if he has any at all, goes unheard as one of the children suddenly cries out, as if he’s had an epiphany.

You look down at him, amused. “What’s wrong?”

“I just remembered, something else happened at the river,” he says brightly. His remark makes some of the other children perk up too, as if they also remembered this other thing that had happened.

The kids are all at the age where something like a leaf falling onto their heads would be remarkably significant, so as you wait for Soonyoung to come closer and deliver the actual news, you decide to humour them, smiling and tilting your head interestedly. “Oh, really? What was it?”

“There’s a man in the frozen river, Miss Witch!”

“A—” The smile turns to stone on your face. “A what?”

“Not a man,” Soonyoung says. He’s finally reached your doorstep now, and you notice that his usual easy smile is nowhere to be seen. He frowns down at the children, displeased. “What are you all doing here? We told you to go home, not to Y/N.”

“They thought I could help,” you say placatingly. “It’s okay. And if there’s a man stuck in the river, you might need my help after all.”

“Not a man,” Soonyoung repeats, his face darkening. “It’s not a man.”

You raise an eyebrow at the graveness in his tone. “Well, then you certainly do need my help, it seems. What is it?”

Soonyoung sighs. His exhale clouds the air, and your fingers prickle even more at his next words, like invisible icicles piercing through your skin.

“It’s a demon.”

───────────── ‘✽,

You are not exactly a human.

Certainly, you look and dress like one—and you have to eat and sleep like one too, otherwise terrible things happen to your energy levels—but that doesn’t mean you are human. There are some things which make you slightly different.

One of those things being that you live forever.

“What do you mean you don’t know if it’s hostile?” Soonyoung demands, struggling to match your strides as you hurry towards the river. “Of course it’s hostile. It’s a fucking demon!”

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you come to realise that some yokai aren’t hostile,” you respond, frosted-over leaves crunching under your feet. Soonyoung squawks back something unintelligible, too out of breath to make an argument.

After encouraging the children to return back to their homes and sleep—since it really is five in the morning, and none of them should be awake—you and Soonyoung began making your way to where the rest of the villagers were.

The river flows down from the mountain that the village is located near. The further up you go, the more dangerous the terrain becomes, and you pause on a jagged rock to frown down at Soonyoung, who’s gasping as he tries to keep up.

“Did you really find the yokai over here? Why were any of you up here in the first place?”

“We didn’t,” Soonyoung said hoarsely. “I’ve been trying to tell you for ages. The demon was found near the edge of the woods.”

“Oh.” You blink. The two of you had marched past the woods a decent while ago. “Okay.” And then you float down from the rock, lightly hopping over frozen patches of land, past Soonyoung again. “Come on, let’s turn back, then.”

Soonyoung sighs, turns around, and begins his clumsy, human descent. “You could at least use your magic to help me down too, you know.”

And that’s the other different thing about you. Magic. It’s such a flimsy, weak word for what you can do, but it’s also the best way to describe it. There are certain things about you, certain things you’re capable of in the way that no human can ever truly be.

Without even looking back, you wave a hand, and a glowing stream of wind nudges Soonyoung’s feet towards the easiest path down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And hurry up before those villagers aggravate the yokai even more.”

Demons, or more traditionally, yokai, aren’t something you’ve encountered in countless decades. As technology and weapons developed, and the human population expanded, many yokai simply faded out of existence, unable to sustain themselves in the less wild, less natural environment that humans created. Others were smart enough to recognise they now had less of an advantage over humans, and tended to stay away from densely populated areas, preferring to target any lone travellers who ventured too far into their territory.

Yokai values and morals are vastly different to humans, and they are so incomprehensible to mortals that yokai gained a reputation for being vindictive, vicious, vile, and all other negative ‘v’ words. That doesn’t necessarily make them so, however, and over your lifetime, you’ve encountered some who don't quite fit the stereotype that humans are all too eager to place on them.

It takes you and Soonyoung long enough to get to the river that the sky has lightened ever so slightly, but the lacey edges of morning mist are still blurring the edges of your sight, and you can only barely see what the villagers are looking at, especially with them all crowding around and pushing against each other to get closer to the river.

You crane your neck, standing on tiptoe, before huffing. Scratch that, you can’t see anything.

“Move out of my way, please,” you say sharply, adding a little volume magic to your voice so that it carries over the whole crowd.

Most of them instantly look back at that and clock your presence, eyes widening. Some of them begin rushing towards you, looking almost like their children as they begin talking over each other all at once.

“Y/N, there’s a demon—”

“Absolutely vile creature, is there any way—”

“—river’s all frozen, how did it even get here—”

“Okay, okay, okay!” you interrupt, adding even more volume to your voice to be heard. “Minah, yes, I know there’s a demon. Soonyoung told me. And no, Joongseok, we don’t know if it’s truly vile yet. And Woongri, yokai often work with magic, so it could’ve gotten here in a variety of ways. But if you want me to do something, you have to let me through. Yes?”

You’re tired, and cold, and dealing with stressed adults is not the best way to start the day, so you're more blunt than is perhaps necessary, but it gets your point across. The villagers look sufficiently contrite and finally shuffle to the side, making way for you to get through. Seungcheol, the village leader, nudges his way through the crowd until he’s by your side, face solemn.

“Good morning,” he says. “Sorry about the chaos.”

“Good morning,” you say back, voice now normal volume once again. “It’s okay. Everyone’s scared. You don’t call me at ungodly hours unless it’s serious, so I don’t mind.”

Seungcheol nods, looking both grave and apologetic. “We only ever want you to use your magic for good.”

It’s a terribly human thing to say, and you smile dryly. “Of course. What can I help you with this time?”

“Well… You can help with that.” Seungcheol points to a mound of warped ice a little ways down the river. “How can we get rid of it?”

You squint in the direction Seungcheol’s pointing at, peering through the tendrils of mist, and then gasp. Half-buried into the ice of the river, you can make out a blurry, pale-coloured figure clothed in pale silk. Dark liquid pools in all directions surrounding the motionless body, and anyone can tell the yokai is very badly hurt.

“It’s already bleeding half to death, so it shouldn’t be too hard to finish— wait, Y/N!”

Ignoring Seungcheol’s shouts, you step onto the frozen surface of the river and rush towards the yokai, and your blood runs cold as you take in the sight before you.

The yokai is a fox demon, you notice, with white ears and soft silver hair and a gorgeous white tail, which is partially being crushed by a river’s worth of ice. He’s waist-deep in the frozen water, and a thick layer of more ice has begun to form around the yokai’s torso from where he’s slumped against the surface of the river at an almost unnatural angle, causing his poor tail to be twisted and buried both in the river and the new ice.

“Oh, darling,” you whisper, kneeling down beside him, tracing a finger across the yokai’s cheek. Your finger comes away stained dark with blood, and you swallow thickly, heart constricting.

The crushing ice isn’t the end of the damage: there’s blood pouring from seemingly unknown sources, matted into the fox demon’s hair and streaking down his neck. He must have been in some sort of fight before getting stuck in the river.

Gently, you thumb over the yokai’s cheek, taking in the pale skin and delicate eyelashes. This fox demon is devastatingly pretty, and seeing him so badly injured makes your heart hurt even more.

Something rustles near the riverbank, and you look back to see some of the children hiding amongst the leaves, peering curiously at you as you kneel next to the yokai. Further up the river, Seungcheol is approaching you, wanting to know your thoughts on the demon, and his eyes widen as he also notices the children in the bushes.

“What are you doing here?” he says in their direction, the disapproval clear in his tone. “It’s dangerous! You shouldn’t be looking at this. Where are your parents? Didn’t Soonyoung tell you to go home?”

“But we wanna see Miss Witch,” one boy says, eyes wide. “Please, can’t we stay?”

You frown and open your mouth, preparing to reprimand them, but then the yokai makes a soft, pained sound beside you, and you instantly return your attention to him, bending down even closer to his face.

Seungcheol cries out, this time in your direction as you lean towards the yokai. “Y/N, what are you doing? Stay back!”

You ignore him, reaching out a hand to brush matted hair out of the yokai’s eyes. “Hello? Hello, can you hear me?”

The yokai scrunches his eyes up, whimpering in pain. The moment he’d returned to consciousness, he’d started shivering intensely, struck by the cold of the river.

“Hello?” you repeat, gentle. You move your hand away from the yokai’s face, directing it towards the ice surrounding his back instead. Silently reciting an incantation, the ice begins to glow orange under your palm, slowly beginning to melt away. “Can you tell me your name?”

The yokai shivers, mumbles something unintelligible. Then he looks up at you, golden irises shuddering in fear, every movement of his face telling you it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

One of the children lets out a shriek, and you whip your head up in alarm. They don’t look hurt, but the yokai notices the sound too, raising his head to look at them with wide, unsettling eyes, and the children shriek again, all of them frozen in fear. You can kind of understand why: the fox demon is covered in blood, and anyone unacquainted with the supernatural would find his slitted golden eyes petrifying.

But before you can say anything, do anything to reassure them, the ice around his back makes a cracking sound as it melts under your hand, and the yokai’s mouth drops open in pain. He coughs, splattering blood over the ice, more of the black liquid dripping from the corners of his lips as he starts writhing and scratching against the river, hauling himself up onto his elbows, eyes fixed on the children in the distance, and all hell breaks loose.

The children are screaming, ear-piercingly loud, and Seungcheol is screaming too, and the yokai starts writhing even harder, yipping and gasping like a distressed fox, his hands sticky with his own blood as he tries to push against the ice.

“No, it’s okay— don’t do that—Cheol, let me think!”

It’s obvious Seungcheol wants you to kill the demon, especially with the way he’s screeching at you right now, but the yokai looks so pitiful, ears shaking, eyes wide, still bleeding from gashes all over his body.

“Think about what?” Seungcheol yells, children cowering behind his legs, and he shields their eyes from the river. “Y/N, please, you have to get rid of it!”

You look at him, and then down at the helpless yokai beside you, and really, it takes you less than a second to decide what to do.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, getting to your feet. Seungcheol tenses, sensing something wrong in your tone as you look down at the yokai again, leaning down with your hand outstretched. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Your fingers come into contact with the yokai’s forehead, and there’s a golden glow before his eyes flutter shut and he freezes up, before collapsing against the ice.

Hidden safely behind the village leader, the children stop screaming. Seungcheol also doesn’t make a sound, still staring wide-eyed at you, and now the yokai is no longer moving, the early morning air is frozen still once more. You look back at Seungcheol, and he blinks, his face unreadable.

“Please tell me you killed that thing.”

You smile weakly, dried-up demon blood on your fingertips. At your feet, the yokai’s shoulders move up and down ever so slightly with every shallow breath he takes, unconscious.

───────────── ‘✽,

“Bad idea,” Seungcheol admonishes loudly from outside your window, and even though there’s a whole wall and a thick pane of glass separating him from you, his disapproval is crystal clear. “This is a bad idea. Y/N, let me in. We have to talk about this.”

You don’t look up from the boiling pot on the stove, simply lifting a hand and giving Seungcheol the finger.

“How dare— Y/N, you cannot let that thing live. It’s a danger to us. Especially the children! Y/N, think of the children, please, it could hurt the children.”

Seungcheol raps against the glass insistently, but you ignore him, humming to yourself as you ladle some of the boiling concoction into a wooden bowl. Gently, you blow on the steam, inspecting the lilac colour of the liquid before nodding, pleased, and heading over to the yokai asleep on your couch.

It’s been some hours since that moment on the frozen river, where you’d decided to save the yokai trapped in the ice rather than kill him. None of the humans agreed with your decision, however, so you’d had to make the tiring trek down the mountain yourself, a heavy, unconscious yokai in tow. That’s partly the reason you’re so tired right now, arms aching as you set the bowl down on the coffee table, where you’ve laid out bandages and various dried bags of poultices and face towels to help clean up the yokai.

Said yokai is still unconscious and bleeding all over the fabric of your sofa, the golden threads of magic you’d used to briefly staunch his wounds already beginning to fray open once more. You sigh, settling down beside him, and begin inspecting the more serious injuries on his forehead and down his arms.

“What happened to you, hm?” you say softly, ignoring Seungcheol still rapping against your window. “Why are you so hurt?”

Living as the only magic user-slash-competent doctor in a rural village means that you have plenty of experience in patching up the particularly nasty injuries that the villagers sustain, and your hands are careful and practised as you dip a towel into the warm, disinfectant potion you’d made, swiping it over the yokai’s skin. He’s injured practically everywhere: deep gashes are scored along his arms, his hands, and there’s one slashed across his chest. Not to mention his definitely-broken tail, the still-bleeding head wound and, judging by the way blood had been pouring from his mouth out on the lake, some internal injuries you can’t see.

You wince, taking a towel into your hands. “Sorry,” you say, heart twinging in sympathy for the yokai. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. But don’t worry, I’m here to help.”

Ideally, you’d run a bath first and scrub the yokai clean of all the grime and blood before getting to tending his wounds. But he’s a fox demon—ridiculously tall and with a fluffy tail and delicate ears, so he won’t fit in your tiny tub and it’ll end up being more troublesome than anything else.

So, you’ve resorted to magic, dipping a cloth in the potion you've made to melt and dissolve all the dirt into thin air.

The wounds are all worryingly deep, most notably the still-bleeding one on his forehead, and if he were human, you’d be concerned that he’ll suffer a serious concussion afterwards, along with an inability to use his hands for a long while. But as it is, the ancient demon-magic that he’s made of will mean that he’ll heal pretty quickly, and there should be no grave threat to his life.

Hopefully. As long as he doesn’t develop an infection from the open wounds.

You finish cleaning up the blood and then wipe down his face with a cool cloth, frowning slightly at how his skin still feels unusually hot. Infections will make his healing process much longer and much more arduous. The poor yokai looks like he’s already been through more than enough, so you really hope the fever dies down soon.

Seungcheol is still yelling at you from your window when you finish your preliminary clean-up, and you sigh heavily, beginning to develop a headache from how annoying he's being. So you walk over to the window, wrench it open, and jab a bloodstained finger in his direction.

“Seungcheol. Kindly, please, fuck off.”

Seungcheol blinks, both startled by your abrupt confrontation and a little affronted, but before he can say anything, you carry on.

“Currently, this yokai is injured, and it’s my job to take care of injured people, regardless of who they are, so you can take any thoughts of me killing him and shove them up your ass. It’s not happening, and it’s never happening, and you’re also disturbing my patient with the racket you’re creating, so please go away.”

If it were anyone else talking to him like this, Seungcheol would have blown up with anger a solid thirty seconds ago—as it is, he simply stares at you, still looking affronted, before he sighs, and all of the energy drains out of him. He knows how headstrong you are, and when you get like this, he knows there’s no way he can sway you. He’ll have to wait until you’re no longer brimming with obstinacy to get his thoughts across.

His gaze drops from yours to your bloody finger, and then he sighs again, folding his hands behind his back.

“Give the demon my wishes for his speedy recovery,” he says at last. “But we still have to talk about this later, Y/N. Okay?”

You huff, and lower your hands. “Fine. Later.” With a resolute swish of magic, you shut the window once again and turn your back on Seungcheol to return to your patient.

As village leader, you can understand why Seungcheol may have concerns regarding a yokai entering a human village, but that doesn’t mean you like how he has no qualms with telling you to just kill it in an instant. Discrimination against magical creatures is half the reason they’re so hostile to humans, anyway, and you’d know firsthand how painful it is to be targeted and attacked purely for being who you are.

It’s not like you ever asked to be magic. And yet, people end up hating you for it.

You look down at the unconscious yokai, with his silver-white fur and gentle eyelashes and those heart-wrenching injuries. Then, wordlessly, you pick up one of the poultices and get to work.

───────────── ‘✽,

Hansol wakes up to the strong, warm smell of chrysanthemum.

It’s an unusual scent to wake up to, and his ears prick up, alarmed—only for him to cry out a few seconds later, upon realising the action sends a sharp bolt of pain throughout his entire body.

“Oh!”

A voice sounds from somewhere above his head, and he startles even more, trying to open his eyes and locate the sound, before realising he can’t see.

He cries out again, panicking at the pitch black that surrounds him, flailing around before realising that that action also causes him debilitating pain, and he begins panicking even more. How did he end up here? What happened? All he remembers is being chased through the forest and then tripping and crashing into a river, and then hard ice and the cold water and the throbbing in his head and then— and then—

Something damp and heavy gets lifted from his eyes and he gasps, freezing up as bright white light almost blinds him.

“Sorry, sorry,” the voice from before says, sounding terribly apologetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you before doing that.”

Hansol scrunches his eyes, and then squints, vision all blurry from having been unconscious and now being blinded by bright light. He can’t see who’s speaking, but whoever they are, they carry on, the words steadily flowing out faster and faster as the person rambles. He can barely keep up with the onslaught of noise, twitching confusedly and trying to see what’s going on. The world feels like it’s spinning. He’s pretty sure the world isn’t meant to spin this fast.

“That was probably really scary when you woke up, huh? I’m so sorry. The towel slipped from your forehead and covered your eyes, and I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I didn’t expect you to wake up now, but I guess that’s a good thing, ‘cause you’ve been out for a whole day, and any longer and we’re veering into coma territory, which would mean that you were really, really hurt. Which is, like, definitely not good, you know? But you did wake up, thank goodness, so that means there’s a chance you’ll get better very soon. Plus, your fever isn’t that bad anymore, so it seems you really are on the road to recovery, which is all very—oh, wait. Sorry. It’s still too bright, isn’t it?”

Another wave of chrysanthemum hits Hansol’s senses and a hand comes up to his face, creating a shadow over his eyes so he’s no longer squinting furiously up at the disembodied voice.

“Sorry,” the voice says, apologising yet again. “Is that better?”

Hansol blinks, slowly opening his eyes fully to look up, and then, the whole world abruptly stops spinning as he finds himself looking at the most beautiful being in the entire history of the universe. He doesn’t say a word, mouth falling open in shock.

You smile down at him, made anxious by his silence. “Hello,” you say, hand still shielding his eyes from the brunt of the winter light. “My name is Y/N. What’s yours?”

Hansol squeaks, a small, high-pitched sound that instantly floods him with mortification when it accidentally slips past his lips, and he screws his eyes shut and curls into himself, knocking your hand away hurriedly in his rush to hide his face. He tries to bury himself into the couch, shaking.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you say, gently, worried you've scared him. “I promise. I want to help.” Perched on the edge of the couch, you lean over and slowly lower the yokai’s hands from his face, coaxing him to look at you again. “Can you please tell me your name?”

You smile, again, and Hansol feels a little faint as he looks up at you. His vision is still slightly blurry from his eyes being shut for so long, and the way you’re backlit by the light makes you look like you’re glowing, a gentle halo of silver light surrounding your form. That, coupled with the way you have the prettiest smile he’s ever seen, is making him feel all dizzy. And a bit warm. The air feels like it’s suffocating him, actually, but all of that is made irrelevant by how pretty he thinks your smile is.

There’s a possibility he’s still in the process of getting rid of his fever, because he blinks slowly, focused, and when he opens his mouth to speak, the next words spill unbidden from his lips.

“My name is Hansol,” he says, “and I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

Your eyes widen at his words, a flush rapidly creeping up your cheeks. Hansol looks at you, worried that you’ll suddenly hate him for what he’s just said, but you just laugh, flattered, and bring your hand up to his forehead. The touch is cool against his skin, like a soothing balm.

“Thank you, Hansol,” you say. “Your fever seems to still be pretty high, if you’re saying stuff like this, huh? I’m currently brewing some chrysanthemum tea, and I think it’ll be a good idea for you to have some too.”

Hansol blinks slowly again. “Chrysanthemum tea,” he muses. He looks up at you. “That must be why you smell so warm and pretty.”

You laugh again, flustered, subconsciously brushing his hair back from his forehead and cupping his cheek, your fingers feather-light. “Perhaps. So would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please,” Hansol says. “I’ll have anything… you… give m…” His eyelids and ears slowly droop, and before he can even finish his sentence, he drifts back off to unconsciousness once again, head leaning into your hand.

Open-mouthed, pink-cheeked, you look down at the one-more unconscious yokai in your hands.

“Wow,” you breathe out. And then you smile. “You’re adorable.”

───────────── ‘✽,

Over the next few days, the yokai—Hansol—constantly drifts in and out of consciousness, his fever fluctuating in intensity the entire time.

It’s difficult to pull coherent sentences out of him, and anything he says is a mixture of your name, his name, and also how pretty he thinks you are.

You chalk it up to his fever.

His demon-magic must have taken a serious blow from the extent of his injuries, as it takes him a lot longer than you’d like for him to finally shake off the infection. A whole excruciating week goes by, and you almost cry with relief when, as you get up to check his temperature in the middle of the night, you find that his fever has finally broken, and he’s able to breathe easily once more.

When the weak sun finally peeks out from over the horizon, you enter your spare room to check on Hansol. Sometime after his first bout of consciousness, you’d gathered enough energy to move him from your couch to the spare bedroom in your cottage. It had taken a lot of work, and a lot of magic—weakened by the stress of taking care of a dying fox demon and trying to fend off any curious and judgy villagers, it takes a lot of energy for you to do anything strenuous lately—but you managed. And it certainly seemed to help, as he slept a lot better in an actual bed.

Humming absentmindedly to yourself, you make your way over to the guest room, fingers dancing and causing golden threads of magic to tidy up the state of your house as you go along.

To your surprise, the yokai is wide awake when you enter the room, and he startles when you noisily open the door and step inside. The moment you make eye contact with Hansol, you freeze, the song dying off your lips at the same time as your magic drops a partially-fluffed up cushion in the living room.

“Um.” You blink, hanging off the door handle, staring at the yokai picking his bandages in bed in the middle of your guest room. “Good morning?”

Hansol doesn’t respond, continuing to stare at you, wide-eyed.

You cough, feeling terribly awkward, attempting to adjust your stance and take your hand off the doorknob in the most natural way possible. “Hello. I’m, uh, Y/N. How are you feeling?”

There’s another beat. Then Hansol finally opens his mouth, only to completely ignore your question to say, “You’re the one who smells like chrysanthemums.”

“I— Sorry, what?” You blink, taken aback by the abrupt and unrelated question, before nodding. “Oh, yeah. I guess you remember the chrysanthemum tea I made you?” You smile slightly. “I can’t believe you remember that. That was when you were the most unwell.”

“Oh.” Hansol’s ears twitch, and he continues to look at you with his golden eyes, somewhere between bewildered and amazed. (Amazed by what, you aren’t entirely sure.) “I do remember, though. I remember you.”

You blink rapidly, trying to push down the blush that threatens to rise up your face. Having a handsome yokai stare at you with such focus, saying that he remembers you even when he was deep in the throes of a fever is such a heart-fluttering thing to experience early in the morning. You aren’t nearly awake enough for this conversation. If you aren’t careful, you could accidentally fall in love right then and there.

“That’s nice,” you croak, and then shake yourself. You have a job to do. Hansol’s a patient under your care, and you need to check his condition. “Um. Sorry. But, uh, I do have to check if you can remember anything else,” you say, slipping into healer mode as you step further into the room, walking towards the bed. “Do you remember your name?”

Hansol nods, intently following your movements as you draw closer. “My name is Hansol,” he says.

You smile, relieved by the coherency of his answer. The fact that the yokai remembers his own name is a very good sign. “Yes, you are. Do you remember how you got here?”

“Yes,” Hansol says obediently. “I was in a river. Trapped in the ice. And you… saved me.”

That makes you smile a little wider. “I took care of your wounds, yes! It’s really good you’re finally awake and able to answer questions, ‘cause it’s a sure sign there’s no lasting internal damage. I do have to check your bandages, though, so… may I?”

You make a gesture towards Hansol’s bandaged arms, and the yokai obliges, raising his arms to let you see.

You take Hansol’s hand in your own, preparing to lift his arm up higher—but the moment your palms brush, you gasp, fingers tightening around the yokai’s at the sudden sensation. Hansol, too, lets out a small noise of surprise, looking up at you.

The yokai’s hands are firm, strong, and perfectly healthy, but they also thrum with magic. You can feel every spark and fizzle of the magic as it dances under his skin, spinning and zipping back and forth like a cloud of hyperactive fireflies. Like the magic can talk, and when it noticed the magic that lives inside you, it seems to yip with recognition, spinning itself around in excitement in the yokai’s hands.

“It’s so strong,” you say, amazed. “I didn’t realise magic could be this powerful.”

Hansol’s also staring up at you, similarly in awe. “You’re magic too?” he asks, looking like he’s never fathomed such a thing is possible. “You’re like me?”

You laugh slightly, made a little giddy by the feeling of how alive the magic is under Hansol’s skin. “Not exactly,” you say, releasing Hansol’s hand to finally reach for the bandages, feeling around to see whether his skin is still tender underneath. “I don’t have the ears or the tail, do I?”

Hansol’s ears flick. You’re decidedly focused solely on the yokai’s bandages, but you can feel Hansol looking at you intently as you work.

“But you’re very pretty,” Hansol says. “Are you sure?”

fuck. Hansol has to stop saying things like that, because they’re very bad for your poor heart. Very bad.

“I’m sure,” you say with a smile, straightening up once again. “I think all your wounds are healing nicely. Now your magic’s come back to its full strength, it’ll help you heal the rest of the way in no time.”

You can’t help but reach for Hansol’s hand again, once more feeling pleasantly surprised by the light zap of magic when your hands touch. Now you can feel the thrum of it under Hansol’s skin, it’s easy to realise how unwell the yokai was before, when his hands had been deathly cold with no fizz of magic in them at all. You’re just endlessly relieved that you can feel that fizz once again.

Hansol looks down at your intertwined hands, and then up at you, a smile lifting up the corners of his lips. “Thank you,” he says, so very sincere that it melts your heart. “Thank you for looking after me.”

You can’t help but smile back, squeezing Hansol’s hand once. “Of course. It’s my pleasure. Really.”

Hansol smiles even wider, ears twitching pleasedly, and you once again have to try and valiantly fight away your blush. fuck. This yokai really needs to stop making you blush so easily, and fast, else you’re going to start having problems.

───────────── ‘✽,

It turns out, the blushing thing ends up being the least of your problems, because later that day, Hansol tries to leave.

Sometime after bringing Hansol a breakfast of soup and chrysanthemum tea (since he really seemed to like the tea), you’re drying away the breakfast dishes when a blast of cold air slices through the cottage, and you look over to see Hansol holding open the front door, looking like he’s about to step out.

“H—wait! Hansol, what are you doing?”

The yokai looks over at you, still holding the front door, confused. The bottom half of his tail is still bandaged, making it difficult for him to move it around, but it still sways from side to side unsurely as he blinks at you.

“I’m leaving,” Hansol says, like it’s obvious. “You took care of me. And I’m now better. So I’m going to go.”

You gape, jaw almost dropping to the floor at the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard.

“Like hell you are,” you say, marching over to the front door and firmly shutting it with your still-soapy hands, and then ushering Hansol back to the guest room and into bed. “You are very far from being better, Hansol. Your tail is still all bandaged up! I’m not letting you leave until you’re back to full health, so don’t you dare think for a second that you get to go before then.”

Hansol makes a noise of confusion as you fussily tuck him back into bed, fluffing up the pillows behind his head and arranging the covers around him. “What? Why would you let me stay?”

“Why wouldn’t I let you stay?” you counter, patting down the duvet and absentmindedly brushing away the strands of hair that fall in his eyes. “I want to take care of you. I want you to get better. I can’t exactly do that if you go off into the woods all by yourself and get up to heaven knows what, can I?”

Perched on the edge of the bed, you smile and pat his head.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight for a long while yet, mister,” you say, the faux-scolding adding a light playfulness to your tone. “You’re going to stay with me and get better until I say so.”

Hansol looks up at you, tilts his head, and scrunches his nose just slightly as he smiles, shy. “So you’ll let me stay as long as I like?”

“Obviously,” you say, smiling back. “However long it takes you to heal, and then some, if you want. Of course, unless you have somewhere else to go.”

The yokai hesitates, ears flicking unsurely. “Not really,” he admits, lowering his gaze. “I’ve never actually had anywhere real to stay.” He looks back up at you again, golden eyes glinting hopefully. “So if it’s okay…”

“Oh, of course you can stay here,” you rush to reassure him. And then you pause, deflating a little. “Although…This is a human village, so they don’t really like… your kind. It might make life a bit difficult, but since you’re with me, they shouldn’t bother you too much. Though I understand if that makes you hesitant to stay.”

Hansol shakes his head, smiling slightly. “That’s okay. I like it here, so I don’t mind staying with just you.”

“I’m glad,” you say sincerely. “Seriously, you can stay here for however long you want.”

Hansol ducks his head shyly. “Thank you. Genuinely, thank you.”

You awkwardly pat his hand where it lays on the covers, a little embarrassed in the face of his obvious gratitude, and instruct him to rest up before exiting the room. You’re glad that the brief misunderstanding had been cleared up, because you don’t want Hansol to feel anything less than welcomed. Being a yokai, he won’t have received similar acts of kindness in the wild, and as a magical being yourself, you know how that can feel. No one deserves to feel unwanted, least of all an injured yokai who’d obviously been hurt intentionally before you found him.

Unfortunately, though, the trials of Hansol’s first weeks of consciousness do not end there. Some days later, at some point during the afternoon, Seungcheol comes knocking on your door.

You hadn’t intended on inviting Seungcheol in. But afternoons are always a miserable time during winter, when the sky darkens far too early for anyone’s liking, and it’s difficult to find one’s way through the cold, barely-lit paths. That’s why you often get people coming to your door during the late afternoon, lost or confused or panicked because they’ve lost their way, and your cottage, shimmering with gold magic and warm lights is the only beacon they recognise.

So that’s the only reason why, when Seungcheol turns up, you accidentally open the door for him. Not that you have anything against the village leader, but—Hansol’s only been awake for a week at this point, and you don’t have the mental capacity to deal with a talk about getting rid of him.

Unfortunately, when Seungcheol already has one foot in a door, he will not go. Literally.

“Get your foot out of my door,” you say exasperatedly, struggling to push the door shut as Seungcheol pushes back. His foot is still wedged in the doorway.

“Let me in,” Seungcheol says.

“No. You’re gonna tell me to hurt the yokai again.”

“I’m going to tell you to get him out of here.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Seungcheol says, finally giving up on the little game and pushing his way through the door like it’s no difficulty at all, making you let out an indignant hey!. “We need to talk about this, Y/N. You cannot harbour a demon in our village without discussing this with anyone. He needs to go.”

“He’s hurt,” you say. “He can’t go anywhere! And he won’t hurt anyone, I promise.”

“You can’t know that.” Seungcheol furrows his brow, his tone grave. “He’s a demon, Y/N. You don’t know what he’s capable of. You can’t keep him here.”

“Yes I can,” you insist, “because he’s a fucking real-life being with feelings, not this scary, evil harbinger of doom that you’re making him out to be, and I know this, because he’s been here with me, in my own home, and he’s quite possibly the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

Over the last several days, Hansol has been healing rapidly, so much so that most of his bandages have been removed and he practically glows with magic every time you see him. It’s incredibly relieving to see, and it’s also allowed you to get to know him better: sometimes unintentionally, as a natural side effect of living with him now, but also, sometimes quite on purpose. Because he’s pretty, and he’s interesting, and you want to know who he is.

Turns out, one of the key things about Hansol is he’s the most adorable being you’ve ever met.

He’s adorable, in an awkward sort of way, from the way he hovers hesitantly in doorways to the way his tail always fluffs up with contentment when he feels the tendrils of your magic brush across the room.

Unlike yokai, who simply have ancient magic embedded in them from birth, you are born of magic and made entirely of magic, so the stuff practically spills out of you wherever you go. The magic can’t only be felt from under your skin, but extends out and away from your being. You’re not used to having guests in the cottage, so you weren’t aware of the extent of how much you let your magic run free when in the safety of your home, until you noticed how Hansol reacted. He always blinks in surprise, lifting his hand palm-up, fingers curling inwards, as if your magic is some elusive silk strand that constantly evades his grasp. It’s as if he can truly feel it, and he always seems to like it.

“Can you actually feel my magic?” you ask one day, and he looks up from his hand, surprised. His tail is all fluffy and big, lazily waving from side to side and creating static against the decorative pillows on your couch. You’re sitting on an armchair next to him, smiling at him amusedly from over the book of hexes you’re reading. He doesn’t even seem to notice what his tail is doing, too occupied with the invisible tendrils between his fingers.

“Yeah,” Hansol says after a moment, closing his hand and resting them both back in his lap, a little awkward. “It feels warm. Nice.”

“Really?”

You can’t help but smile at that, oddly flattered. To you, your magic is just… yours. It doesn’t feel like anything in particular, nothing more than a familiar tingle in your hands and a weight against your skin. Though you like describing it as gold, in reality, your magic doesn’t have any colour or any real tangibility to it apart from a fleeting pressure. The idea of it being “gold” is just how you feel about it. It never occurred to you that others could feel it, let alone feel differently about it—living amongst humans, your magic has always subconsciously curled tighter around your arms when you interact with the villagers, not wanting to weird them out with your abnormality or make them feel intimidated by you.

Hansol nods, tail swishing once more. The static has caused all his white fur to stand on end, making him look even more fluffy and adorable. “Yeah,” he says again. “It’s so much calmer than the way my magic feels. It’s really cool.”

He’s looking at you earnestly, as if expecting you to totally agree that your magic is “calmer” than his. And even though you’ve only felt his magic twice before, you nod along in agreement anyway, and Hansol nods back, satisfied with your assent. Then he lowers his gaze back to his lap, opens his hand again, and goes back to playing with your magic.

An endeared laugh bubbles up into your throat, and you smile at the top of Hansol’s head before turning back to your book. Goodness, Hansol is so ridiculously cute.

That interaction only happened some days ago, and whenever Hansol smiles at you or stiltedly asks if he can help you around the house, the surge of affection comes back even harder. So you cannot stand Seungcheol standing here, right now, frowning at you like you’re being unreasonable in your decision to treat Hansol like a normal being.

Seungcheol continues to frown, and you simply stare defiantly back, arms crossed. You don’t let him walk further into the cottage, and a stare-off commences there in the front hallway, neither of you willing to back down.

That is, until there’s a loud crash from further inside the house, and both of you flinch in alarm.

“What was that?” Seungcheol asks, and you look back to where the sound had come from. Connected to the living room, behind a door disguised as an unassuming bookshelf is your own personal library, filled with all the tomes and books on magic and alchemy you’ve collected over the centuries. That’s where the sound’s originated from, which is definitely a cause for concern, but you don’t say so, lest Seungcheol uses this to fuel his argument against Hansol.

“Probably nothing,” you say, though you still glance over in the direction of the library. “You know my cottage. Everything’s old and falling apart.”

Seungcheol looks at you suspiciously. “That’s a lie. You always keep everything in perfect condition.” He begins to move past you. “I bet it’s that demon, isn’t it?”

“No, I—” You try to stop Seungcheol from investigating, but it’s a futile effort. “Cheol, come on, you shouldn’t go see him, he’s still unwell and you could end up distressing him—”

Hurriedly, you trot after Seungcheol through the bookshelf door and into the library, only to end up slamming face-first into his back when he stops abruptly, stunned at the sight before him.

You’re quite proud of your library. It’s an open secret that the bookshelf in your living room leads to it, which is cool all by itself, but your library is also made of magic. What appears as a normal, small study behind the bookshelf turns into a large and sprawling library with high ceilings and mahogany shelves and rows upon rows of books when you step inside.

You’d allowed Hansol access to the library when he’d asked what was behind the bookshelf, and as far as you know, he’s been peacefully situated there the entire day. But, as you peer over Seungcheol’s shoulder to see why he’s suddenly stopped, you realise you can’t see the yokai at all.

In the middle of the floor, there’s a large… fort of books. A book fort. With four walls built of books piled on top of each other, complete with battlements made of upright books and towers with open books as turrets, it’s actually quite amazing to see. The only drawback is how some of the walls are falling down, books tumbling from where they’re piled up.

Also the large spread of ice coming from under the fort, that’s very slowly continuing to pool further and further outwards.

Seungcheol blinks. “Uh… Y/N… you wouldn’t happen to be doing this, would you?”

You shake your head. “Weather magic is my weak point.”

Suddenly, two white ears and a head pop up from behind one of the crumbling walls, and Hansol’s eyes widen when he realises you’re here with a guest.

“Oh!” He ducks his head down, and then straightens once more so he can fully see over the walls of the fort. “Hello. I was just building a castle. One of the walls fell down, ‘cause I sneezed, but I can fix it.”

The tip of his nose is slightly dusted with glittering frost, but he doesn’t even seem to notice that or the ice that’s creeping across the wooden floor. His eyes are shining as he looks at you, infinitely more relaxed than when you’d first seen him, and he inclines his head respectfully in Seungcheol’s direction, looking as humble and polite as possible even when half his face is covered by his book fort.

“Hello to you too. It’s nice to meet you.”

You’re not sure what Seungcheol is most flabbergasted by: Hansol’s gentle manners, or the book fort he’s quite amiably making in your very respectable-looking, very grandiose library, or the circle of ice that’s very clearly coming from the yokai. Hansol is very close to giving the village leader a heart attack any time soon, it seems.

“I— This is— You’re using Y/N’s books to do this?” Seungcheol eventually manages to ask, looking both confused and horrified. “She let you?”

Hansol’s ears droop just slightly, but there’s no obvious change to his expression. “Well… no. But none of the books are damaged, and I’m going to put them back once I’m done with them.”

“It’s fine,” you interject. “I could probably fix a few ripped pages. You can do what you like.”

You couldn’t, probably, fix a few ripped pages, because each book is nearly as old as you. But you’re not going to say that, because you don’t want the confusion on Seungcheol’s face to turn into grim disapproval, and you also don’t want Hansol to feel guilty for what he’s doing.

“Although,” you say, looking down pointedly at the floor, “do you think you could stop the ice?”

Hansol peers over the wall, eyes widening when he realises what you’re talking about. “Oh, sorry. It just happened when I sneezed, I think. Everything is still going haywire… I think I’m still sick.”

The movement of the ice slows to a halt, until only a spattering of frost manages to creep over to where you and Seungcheol are standing. It covers the whole expanse of the floor, now, and there’s not a single patch of the warm brown that’s not frosted over, but it’s okay. That is definitely something you can fix.

Ignoring Seungcheol, who’s still standing there like he can’t believe he’s looking at a walking, talking yokai, you move forward and make your slippery way over to the fort. Hansol moves away a column of books, allowing him to step out of the fort and meet you.

“Is this one of the humans?” Hansol asks in a low voice before you even say anything. The sweetness in his face has disappeared, replaced with an icy look of anxiety. “He’s one of the mortals who don’t like me, isn’t he?”

You try not to wince. “Yes. He’s Seungcheol, the village leader here. He… wants me to get you out of here.”

Hansol regards you for a moment. “You make it sound a lot nicer than what he actually means,” he says. “He wants me killed, doesn’t he? At the very least, badly injured and banished from here.”

“Well… no,” you try to say, but yes, that’s actually exactly what Seungcheol wants. “He doesn’t want you badly injured. He’s just… scared. Of your kind.”

“Hm.” Hansol nods, expressionless. “Same thing, really. He wants me out.”

“Okay, Y/N, stop whispering with the… him,” Seungcheol says, and you look up to see the village leader making his slow way across the ice towards you. “We need to talk. Discuss what you’re going to do, because you are going to do it, for the safety of our village.”

You frown, frustrated. “Hansol’s not a threat to our safety,” you argue. Seungcheol continues to slide gingerly across the ice, and he sighs and shakes his head as you carry on. “He doesn’t have anything against humans. And if he did, he’d have been dead long before we found him at the river, because—Hansol. Tell him why you ended up there.”

Hansol hesitates, looking at you unsurely. The other day, you finally managed to ask him why he’d been so injured and how he’d gotten trapped in the river. It was nothing unexpected, but it still had broken your heart, and hopefully, hopefully, it’s enough for Seungcheol to feel a little bit of empathy towards the yokai. Seungcheol’s a good man, a kind man, and all he needs to do is realise Hansol’s not evil, and he’ll warm up to him faster than anyone could think possible.

“Some other yokai attacked me in the forest,” Hansol says slowly. “Really old yokai. Older than me. And… I got hurt.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, looking at you like he doesn’t get the point of this. You simply glare at him, silently telling him to continue listening.

“It wasn’t bad. Just a broken tail and some scratches,” Hansol says, and Seungcheol blinks, surprised at Hansol’s nonchalance. “But then some demon hunters found me, and tried to get me to… attack them? I dunno. They were picking a fight, and when I didn’t give it to them, they also hurt me.”

Almost imperceptibly, Seungcheol’s face softens a fraction, and you feel a flicker of hope. You know he’s weak in the face of innocently victimised stories like this.

“And so I was trying to run away from them, but everything is kind of in pain at that point. So I end up tripping down the mountain and into your river. My magic goes haywire when I’m sick,” he adds, “so that’s how I end up accidentally freezing ice all over me, too. It kind of responds to my feelings I guess? So when I’m scared, it starts acting up even more, which is why the ice was so thick, too. Like it was trying to protect me, ‘cause it knew I was scared of someone hurting me.”

It’s the most that Hansol’s said in one go, uninterrupted, before. Seungcheol’s face softens even further, and he straightens slowly. He’s been standing still, a few metres away the entire time Hansol’s been talking, like he’s been frozen by his tale.

“And yeah,” Hansol finishes awkwardly, ears twitching. He’s sensed the change in atmosphere, Seungcheol’s empathy tangible in the air. “Then I ended up here.”

“After several, painful weeks of healing,” you add, and Hansol nods jerkily.

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol says gently. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise you were so scared. But…” And then he sighs, straightening up further, the softness melting away from his face. “That doesn’t mean you’re not a harm to the others, now you’re all better. Who knows how you might feel when you’re hungry, or angry. You said your magic acts up according to your feelings, and I can’t have it acting up and hurting people here.”

Hansol’s face scrunches up in confusion. “When I’m hungry?”

It’s a bit absurd that’s the thing he’s focusing on, so you feel indignation over Seungcheol’s whole speech on his behalf, crying out at the injustice.

“What do you mean?” you argue. “You’re saying that like he’s some mindless beast.”

“He may as well be, for all I know,” Seungcheol sighs. “He’s not human, Y/N. We don’t know how he’ll act. And I need to think about the villagers. They’re… they’re like family to me, you know that.”

“I’m not human either,” you point out angrily. “And yet I’m also a part of this village. What are you saying, Cheol? Do you not consider me family?”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head instantly. “No, you are. But still, you’re more human than he is. And… there are days where I’m a bit wary of you too, Y/N.” At your outraged look, he rushes to continue, “Because you’re so powerful! But you’ve been with us for so many years, during the time of my father and his father, and his father before that, so I know you’re good. You’ve saved their lives. Saved everyone’s lives. Hansol, on the other hand…”

You scoff, beyond furious. “That’s absurd. There’s no such thing as being ‘good’, just as there’s no such thing as being ‘evil’. We don’t live in a fucking fairytale, Seungcheol.”

“I know. Maybe if you’d made different choices, I’d think of you as less good, too, but…” Seungcheol trails off, shrugging helplessly.

You stare at him, eyes so impossibly wide that it’s actually hurting your eye sockets, astounded by what he’s just said. Seungcheol? Thinking of you as evil? Just because of your power?

Beside you, Hansol stiffens just slightly, and during the course of the conversation, he’s somehow ended up so close to you that you can feel his magic simmering frantically under his skin. You don’t know why he’s so worked up, and distantly, you wonder whether it’s on your behalf.

Seungcheol, noticing how irate you’re getting, takes a step forward to try and placate you. But he misjudges his balance on the ice surrounding the fort, leg twisting and his eyes widen and he yelps as he falls forward, on course to crashing face-first onto the hard, frozen ground. Your eyes widen, and you reach out to him, before then—

There’s a blur of white fur and Hansol catches him before he falls over and breaks all the bones in his knees, gripping him loosely around the torso, getting to Seungcheol before you can even blink. He gingerly helps him back into an upright position, and you wave a hand to whisk away the rest of the ice with streams of gold before another accident like that happens again. Hansol’s still holding Seungcheol when you’re finished, but by the shoulders now, looking the village leader right in the eye, golden irises soft and determined at the same time.

“I get you have a responsibility,” Hansol says. “I used to have one too, in the wild. To keep myself alive. But my rule, and this should be yours too, is to not hurt anything that doesn’t hurt you first. I haven’t hurt you. You shouldn’t hurt me. And Y/N—” He looks over at you, eyes flashing, before looking back at Seungcheol. “Y/N has never hurt you. So don’t act like you’re preparing for the day she one day will.”

Seungcheol’s face doesn’t change, but you’ve known him long enough to detect the minute shifts in the air around him as he digests Hansol’s words and, grudgingly, accepts it.

“I apologise,” he finally says, reluctant but sincere in the way only Seungcheol can be. “That was cruel of me. To you and Y/N.”

He looks at you, and Hansol’s hands fall away, allowing him to walk towards you.

“Sorry. But you have to understand where I’m coming from,” Seungcheol says, almost pleading, and you realise that, whilst his stance on Hansol’s existence has wavered, his overall reluctance over him being here hasn’t changed. “At least don’t let others see him, if he’s going to stay. They’ll be terrified.”

“That doesn’t sound like Hansol’s problem,” you retort. “I know these villagers, Cheol, and they’ll warm up to him, they really will.”

You look over at Hansol as you say your next words.

“Hansol is sweet and kind and really rather funny, and it breaks my heart to hide him from others because he might be seen as scary. That’s just people’s prejudice talking.” You smile. Hansol’s eyes are wide, lips parted slightly, and a fluttering warmth unfurls up inside you as you continue to smile at him. “Because I’ve seen Hansol, and he’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

Hansol’s entire face goes pink, and he looks away.

“Maybe so,” Seungcheol says heavily, and you look back at him. The warmth in your chest fades at his tone, dropping to the depths of your stomach. “But I can’t risk them being near him. Don’t let him out.”

You sigh, disappointed. “No. He can leave the house if he wants to, Seungcheol. He’s not some kind of housepet you can impose rules on just like that and expect me to follow through with them.”

“Y/N—”

“Get out of my home,” you say, evenly. “Go. You can take your rules and go piss off out of my sight.”

───────────── ‘✽,

You stew in your anger towards Seungcheol for several days.

He comes to your door every so often, either with a letter or a plea to talk through this, but you refuse to let him in and instead tell him to, not so kindly, fuck off.

Hansol looks at you with a mixture of affection and disappointment each time you do so. You don’t really understand why he looks at you like that—neither the affection nor disappointment—but he doesn’t say anything and goes back to what he was doing soon after, either playing with your magic, or his own, or reading your books.

Having him around the house is quite like having a very adorable, very shy, fox. You might’ve gotten furious at Seungcheol for treating Hansol like a pet, but you don’t mean it like having a pet fox: it’s just like having an inquisitive, cute being around the house who quite likes following you around as you go about your day.

It’s cute. He’s cute, with his swishing tail and his sudden bursts of frost when he’s fiddling with his fingers, and the way he stays perfectly still whenever you gain the courage to slowly inch closer to him on the sofa until you’re laying on his shoulder, at the perfect angle to peer down at the book in his hands so you can read it with him. They’re all your books, of course, so you know what they’re all about, but it’s quite nice leaning against Hansol, feeling his warmth through the silk of his clothing, and the pleasant hum of his magic under your ear.

He never initiates physical contact, but he seems to like having you near. He’s never protested when you’ve held his hand or laid on his shoulder or (very, very gently) touched his ears, so.

He’s quite like a fox, in that way. But he’s like a fox in other ways, too: namely, how it appears that he’s a bit nocturnal.

Sometimes, you’ll awaken at three, four, five o’clock in the morning to someone clattering around in your house. It always turns out to be Hansol, trying to occupy himself without waking you up, but always failing to do so.

“Hansol?” you murmur blearily, shuffling into the kitchen where the flurry of clatters had emitted from earlier. It’s dark, and all the curtains are drawn; nevertheless, his dim silhouette looks distinctly guilty as he whirls around to face you, pots and pans in his hands. “What’re you doing?”

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. “I read some potion in your book, and I wanted to try it out.”

“At three in the morning?”

“Five,” Hansol corrects. You fix him with a look, and he winces, demon magic-enhanced night vision meaning he can see you perfectly clearly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You shake your head, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. It’s cold in the kitchen, and being exposed to the chilly night temperature is gradually waking you up. “It’s okay. I guess you don’t sleep a lot, huh? You’re wide awake, even though it’s so early in the morning.”

Hansol shrugs. “Dunno. But I always just feel like I have so much energy. Like it doesn’t have anywhere to go, and I can’t sleep for too long before it tells me to do something.”

“I see.” You purse your lips thoughtfully, pondering why Hansol’s feeling like this and what could cause it. And then, a realisation strikes you and your eyes widen. “Oh. Oh, I get it. I understand why you’re feeling that way.”

The yokai tilts his head. “Really?”

“Yeah, and it’s totally okay,” you reassure, nodding your head. “Totally understandable, too. But don’t worry, it’s easily fixed.”

You wave a hand and turn all the light fixtures on so you can see Hansol properly. The yokai literally does look like he’s vibrating with extra energy, holding your cooking utensils in his hands, ears perked upright and tail fluffed up to the max. Yeah, he’s definitely understimulated and frustrated with it right now, even if he doesn’t realise that’s what it is.

You smile. This is a good way to help him and piss off Seungcheol at the same time.

“Come on, Hansol. Let’s go outside.”

───────────── ‘✽,

Not even an hour later, you’re making a trek up the mountains in your warmest clothes, lagging behind Hansol even with your magic-aided agility helping you up the hardest of the steps. The yokai is bounding on ahead, nimble and quick-footed even in the darkness of the early winter morning, and you can hear the light crunch of snow under his footsteps as he moves.

This is what Hansol needed. Some time outside, where he can finally breathe.

Some minutes later, as you’re sitting on a log on the path to catch your breath, Hansol comes back down the mountain to meet you, settling down by your side.

“It’s so quiet,” he whispers. The air around you is lit with a faint glow, courtesy of a visibility spell you conjured so you wouldn’t fall flat on your face as you walked. It makes Hansol’s face look golden as he smiles at you, eyes shining. “Everything is so quiet out here. I can hear the animals.”

You smile back, finding joy in how relaxed he looks. “Doesn’t that make it noisy?”

Hansol shakes his head, and then looks away from you, ears cocked to the side, listening. “No. This is like a familiar buzz of noise, so familiar that it becomes silent.” He looks back at you again, smiling. “Down in the village, it’s so noisy because of all the people, but up here, it’s all gone.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” you say with a smile, and Hansol nods so quickly that you laugh, endeared. “I’m glad. You can go off for a bit, if you want, and I’ll wait for you here.”

Hansol beams. “Okay.”

And like that, he’s off, nothing more than a faint swish of a silver tail before he disappears once more.

He doesn’t come back to you for some time, which gives you a chance to sit there and breathe in the cool air. It’s so cold that it feels like inhaling clouds of peppermint, but it’s… relaxing.

You haven’t had a chance to properly rest this winter. Winter’s a tricky time for you: the cold numbs your senses and makes your magic more sluggish. This year feels much colder than usual, and now the prolonged adrenaline that came with bringing Hansol back from the brink of death is fading, you’re beginning to anticipate feeling more worn out more often, the warm fizz in the tips of your fingers not as present as it ought to be.

Strangely, though. It hasn’t happened yet. Maybe being around Hansol and his frost-related magic has built up your resistance to the cold.

Or, he’s just so lovely and comforting that you don’t feel the effects of the winter.

That’s always a possibility. You look down at your hands, still glowing slightly with the visibility light you’ve put on yourself. It hasn’t faltered even once, a brilliant gold, and when you think of the colour of Hansol’s eyes, the light seems to glow even more.

You breathe in, and then exhale, kicking your feet out in front of you, looking down the dim mountain. You’ve been up here, thinking, for so long that the weak sunrise is beginning to peek its head above the horizon. Hansol still hasn’t come back. Though, you find you’re not too worried about that: somehow, you know that he will come back to you, though you can’t find ears nor tail of him while he’s gone.

It’s incredible how much you’ve come to trust and believe in Hansol, though he’s only been with you for several weeks. He’s been so reserved, anxious and afraid at times, especially during the early days, when he’d been bandaged up and newly healing in an unfamiliar environment, but now it’s clear how earnest and gentle he is. Something in your chest tightens and then relaxes with happiness whenever you see him smile. He’s just so—genuine, and you really like that about him.

You like him. A lot. He’s certainly an unexpected new part of your life, but now he’s here, and you can’t imagine living without the silver-furred fox yokai by your side.

There’s a rustle in the evergreen bushes to your left, and, as if he’s here answering your summons, a familiar silver head of hair pops out, golden eyes shining when he sees you.

He blinks at you, ears flicking curiously, twigs in his hair like he’s been rolling around on the forest floor. His tail is out of sight, but you can imagine how it’s waving from side to side in contentment, the morning dew slowly turning into frozen crystals in his fur. You smile.

“Hey,” you greet, the moment you see Hansol’s face. “Are you gonna come over?”

Instantly, he stands up, hops over the bush and makes his way to you. His footfalls are light, looking like he’s dancing over the rocks before he settles next to you once more, looking like he never left your side.

“Hey,” he says. “There are so many rabbits in these mountains, you know? Like I’ve never seen so many rabbits gathered in one place before, because normally they get killed by hunters or there’s just not enough food in that area to sustain so many. It’s actually insane how many rabbits you have up here.” When you just smile, his eyes widen, ears pricking upright. “Oh, is it you? Do you do something to help them stay alive? With your magic and all that?”

Hansol then launches into a flurry of questions for you, so eager and animated that it surprises you a little, before melting your heart.

At the sight of sunrise, you’d taken down your visibility spell, but Hansol is still glowing, looking so alive with his cold-dusted cheeks, shining eyes, wind-fluffed hair and the frost dusting the tip of his nose, which must have accidentally happened when he’d gotten too excited and lost control of his magic.

Hansol’s positively lit up, now he’s surrounded by all this nature. He must’ve been so cooped up and nervous before, when he was just in your house, barely anything to do. Now he’s healed, and outside, and you can tell that being out of the house is where he’s meant to be.

“It’s not me,” you admit after Hansol’s finished conjuring up crazy theories. “Well, kind of. I messed around with the mountains about eighty years ago and did something by accident so we get a lot more winter flowers than normal. The rabbits love eating them, so we get a lot of them too.”

“Oh,” Hansol says, amazed. “That makes so much sense. I saw so many flowers. I thought that was a little bit weird, but I just chalked it up to Mother Nature having fun, or something.”

You laugh. “Yeah. I guess Mother Nature was having fun,” you say, gesturing to yourself, and Hansol grins too. His eyes crinkle as he does so, the corners of his lips spread wide so his pearly whites are fully visible, the tips of his yokai fangs slightly on display. Even his big, bright smile is as cute as he is. You’ve never seen him smile this widely before. It’s… pretty.

Even though he’s all warmed up to you now, even though it’s clear he trusts you, it’s obvious he’ll always be most at peace out here in the big, wide world.

His gaze slides away from yours, looking at something behind you, and he gasps.

“What is it?” You turn to look back, trying to find what had caught his eye, but Hansol doesn’t respond. He jumps up, diving into the bushes without a word.

A moment later he emerges, and in his hands is…

“A daffodil?” you say, amazed. “What’s this doing here? Spring is very, very far off.”

“I guess it’s because of you,” Hansol says, handing you the flower.

You accept it gratefully, tracing the edges of its buttery yellow petals, such a warm, golden colour in your hands, in stark contrast to the cold white of the snow around you. It’s so pretty, so pristine, and it’s amazing it managed to survive in the freezing winter temperatures. Must be due to your magic, like Hansol said.

“It looks like you,” Hansol says suddenly, and you look at him in surprise.

“Really? How?”

“You look like spring, to me,” he says. The frosted tip of his nose looks pink, as do his cheeks. A decidedly warmer, blushier pink than they’d looked before. “All warm and gold and pretty. Like the daffodil. And I…” He pauses, and then seems to change his mind, shutting his mouth and blinking at you like he wasn’t about to say anything else.

You smile, so endeared that you’re practically glowing with it. “Thank you,” you say, touched, and look back down at the daffodil in your hands before raising your eyes to the definitely-blushing yokai once more. “That’s so sweet.”

Hansol shrugs, a little bashful, before standing up abruptly.

“I’m gonna go find the rabbits again,” he says, and before you can even reply, he’s disappeared.

You laugh, breathing in the crisp air and then releasing it in a sigh, feeling warm all over despite the cold. You shake your head, fond. Hansol is just so…

That’s it, you decide. You’re not going to let Seungcheol dictate where Hansol can and can’t be. You’ll let Hansol do whatever he wants, and encourage him to do whatever he wants.

Whatever makes him smile.

───────────── ‘✽,

From that day on, you make it a point to take Hansol to the mountains as often as you can.

He loves it—he’ll never say it in so many words, extremely shy when it comes to voicing his preferences for reasons you cannot discern, but it’s so obvious that those few hours he gets to spend with you, in the fresh air, away from all the people, are his favourite hours in the day.

It’s another one of those mornings when you’re up in the mountains with him. You can’t come here every day: you’d collapse from exhaustion if you had to wake up at four in the morning every day, but today, it’s a particularly clear-skied day, and you wanted to watch the sunrise with Hansol.

He’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with you, looking silently down at the village below. It’s still not sunrise yet, but the sky’s beginning to lighten gradually, and you can see some of the windows beginning to light up with orange lights, everyone slowly waking. Hansol hasn’t said a word for a while, so you haven’t either, content to just look down at everything in silence.

The entire experience is rather humbling. From the mountain, the village looks so small, like it’s merely a miniscule dot in existence, something that could be missed in a single blink. Like each mortal is worth next to nothing. Like each could be destroyed in a second.

That’s what a lesser immortal would think, anyway. For you, however, rather than how fragile life is, being this high up makes you marvel at the intricacy of it. Every person, every soul, despite being so small, is filled to the brim with so many unique experiences that no one else can ever live through as that person did. They live, and they die, but almost magnificently so. Like a one-of-a-kind snowflake that melts as soon as it lies in your hands.

You look at Hansol next to you. His eyelashes flutter thoughtfully as he looks down at the village, delicate against his pale skin.

Every life should be cherished, you think. Because if even the fleetings lives of humans are that complex, then what of the immortal creatures, who live forever? No one should tell them to hide themselves away.

“I can hear you cursing Seungcheol in your head,” Hansol says abruptly, pulling you out of your thoughts. He’s staring at you, now, no longer focused on the village, and he tilts his head bemusedly when you meet his gaze. “You’re still mad at him, aren’t you?”

You blink, and then smile. You were kind of cursing out Cheol in your head, you admit, and it’s kind of funny that Hansol picked up on it.

“I am,” you sigh, looking down. “Well, now I’m more annoyed, really. I know I should be glad that he’s not going to extremes, like some other people in the world, but…”

Hansol nods slowly. “I get where he’s coming from, though,” he admits, and you look up. “What? Seungcheol cares for his village. These people… they all mean a lot to him, and he doesn’t know me, so I guess it’s natural for him to be cautious.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s no excuse. These people all mean a lot to me, too. I watched them all grow up! And Cheol should know I wouldn’t suggest anything that puts them in danger.” You frown. “It’s frustrating. It feels like he doesn’t trust my judgement, even though he’s literally known me his entire life.”

The yokai hums, and reaches over to pat your hand placatingly where it rests in your lap.

“Also, it pisses me off that he’s saying all this without ever making an effort to get to know you, and see if his judgement is right,” you say, looking at Hansol, catching his hand in your own when he begins to move away. “You’re just—you’re just so lovely, and how dare Seungcheol try to hide you away, like you’re something taboo, or something to be ashamed of?”

Hansol’s eyes widen, and he blinks rapidly, before averting his gaze to your intertwined hands. “Oh,” he says, after a moment, clearly embarrassed by your sincere compliments. “That’s… nice.”

You laugh, fond, squeezing his hand comfortingly. “I’m always nice,” you tease. “I’m the nicest person in the entire world, actually.”

To your surprise, Hansol doesn’t smile back at your joke, and simply ducks his head shyly. “You are.”

And then he keeps lowering himself down until he’s laying in your lap, the tips of his flickering slightly at the contact as he adjusts himself until he's practically lying down in the log, head in your lap. You stiffen in surprise, and Hansol slowly shifts so he can blink up at you with innocent, gold eyes.

“Can I lie here?” he asks, even though he's clearly very much lying there already, and you smile, relaxing.

“Yeah, I guess,” you say, and Hansol smiles, closing his eyes as your hand goes to his hair and begins to gently run through the strands with the tips of your fingers.

You stay like that for some time, running your fingers through Hansol’s hair and over the soft fur of his ears. Abruptly, he playfully flicks his ears as you trace a finger through the fur at the base of them, making you yelp in surprise, and he smiles, pleased at having made you jump. You lightly tug at a few strands of hair, teasing, and he smiles wider, eyes still shut, the slight points of his canines visible.

Too distracted with Hansol’s face, you end up completely missing the full sunrise, and eventually it becomes late enough in the morning that the village fully awakens, bustling with noise as people go about their day. But curiously, you can’t hear a single thing. It’s like your world has narrowed down to you, your hands, and the yokai laid comfortably in your lap.

He really is very pretty. You notice the small spattering of snowflake-like freckles on his cheeks, and smile. He’s so pretty that it isn’t even fair.

You trace a thumb over his cheekbones, opening your mouth to comment on them before Hansol’s eyes snap open, and his ears suddenly tilt towards something down the mountain, listening. Your hand freezes, and you let him turn his head, alert.

“What’s wrong?”

Then, you hear it: the crunching of twigs underfoot, and the telltale huffing and puffing of a human making their way up the mountain. Your hand falls, and you get ready to stand up before—

“Y/N?”

Soonyoung, clad in winter furs and holding a woven basket in his hands, blinks at you in confusion, and then he glances to the yokai in your lap, and shakes his head, his expression becoming even more mystified than before.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” you ask back, equally confused as Soonyoung. “You literally hate climbing the mountains. What are you doing?”

Soonyoung looks at you oddly, lifting up the empty basket. “I’m here to collect wildflowers for you,” he says. “I asked you the other day if you could make some of that non-dangerous magic fire you did last year. You said you needed wildflowers harvested at sunrise to make that potion, so I’m here to get those.”

“Oh. Did you really ask me that?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says. “You said you’d make them for me. And also complained for like five minutes because I tried to pay you, and you wanted to refuse ‘cause you said I was paying you too much. As if there’s such a thing as being paid too much money.” He rolls his eyes for emphasis, and you laugh.

The conversation comes back to you now, and you shrug sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry. I forgot about that.”

Soonyoung makes a disgruntled sound, feigning annoyance before his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Don’t worry about it, boo. Just as long as you remember to make the potion, it’s all fine. The children’ll love it for the bonfire tonight.”

Your eyes widen. “You want me to make it for tonight? There’s a bonfire tonight?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says. “I specifically told you when I asked, as well. Goodness, you’re forgetting everything today, huh?” Then he gestures casually to Hansol, who’s still lying in your lap, looking unsurely at the villager. “Don’t tell me, you also forgot you have the injured demon in your lap, too?”

He points to Hansol so naturally, so calmly that you look down in surprise, as if you really had forgotten the yokai was there. Soonyoung laughs, shaking his head as he bends down near a bush, poking through the dirt to see if there are any flowers. He turns his back on you and Hansol, craning down towards the ground to see better as he continues to talk.

“Cheol told me all about the demon and how he disapproves of you keeping him alive,” Soonyoung says. He manages to find a few wildflowers, and lets out an aha! of pride, putting them away in his basket. “Not gonna lie, I agreed with him a bit. But then I come up here and find him in your lap as you pet him like a cat, and now I’m thinking, maybe not so much.”

Soonyoung turns back to face you once again, and somehow, during those thirty seconds, he’s managed to get dirt all over his nose.

“Plus, you seem to like him,” he carries on. “So he can’t be bad, can you? Because you’d kick his ass if he was.”

You quirk a grin at that, proud. Then you nod down at Hansol. “He has a name, though, you know. And he can hear you.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen in realisation, and he stands up quickly, brushing down his clothes. “Oh, sorry, you’re right. Sorry. Hi, I’m Soonyoung, one of the villagers who live here. It’s nice to meet you.”

He extends a gloved hand towards Hansol, and Hansol looks at the hand for a long moment. Then he slowly sits upright again, and grasps Soonyoung’s hand in a firm handshake, the corners of his mouth relaxing slightly.

“Hansol,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And then he must do something, because Soonyoung lets out a small yip in surprise, withdrawing his hand quickly as Hansol observes him amusedly, eyes glinting.

“Did you…” Soonyoung starts, wide-eyed. “Did you just. Give me an electric shock? On purpose?”

Hansol cracks the slightest smile, evidently pleased with Soonyoung’s reaction. He’s in a playful mood today, you muse, smiling as Soonyoung stutters, clearly not sure what to do when a yokai plays a prank on him like this. It makes you smile too, amused.

“You have to show me how to do that,” Soonyoung eventually says, going from surprised to confused to full of amazement. “Can you show me? Is that something which can be taught?”

That makes Hansol smile properly, lips curving upwards. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!” Soonyoung says, but something about Hansol’s smile must make him smile too, because eventually he laughs, shaking his head. “Goodness, you magic people need to stop messing with me. One day, I’ll accidentally set myself on fire, and it’ll be your fault.”

“You’d do that anyway,” you tease, and Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I have to get going, I think. Jeonghan’s coming over for a poultice for his back pain, and I need to get to my cottage before he does.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung says. “This is a hell of a way up the mountain, by the way. I might go down with you as well, and see if I’ve missed any flowers.”

“Cool.” This is definitely not that far up the mountain, and even though Soonyoung hates climbing, it shouldn’t have taken him more than twenty minutes to reach where you are. It’s clear he wants to walk with you for a moment to tell you something, so you look at Hansol, and offer him the chance to stay up in the mountains by himself for a bit.

He agrees, so you and Soonyoung begin your slow descent.

“What do you want?” you ask, when you’re out of Hansol’s hearing range.

Soonyoung just smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing bad,” he says. “I meant it when I said Hansol seems like a cool guy. I just…” He pauses, thinks over his words, and then leans in closer. “Bring him to the bonfire tonight.”

You reel back. “What? Are you crazy?”

“Hey, if you’re worried about him getting hurt, you shouldn’t be,” Soonyoung says placatingly. “Hansol’s a demon. He can hold his own. Plus, the people aren’t as against yokai as you might think. Cheol’s just overly cautious, and the elderly might have traditional views about it, but it won’t be hard to make them like him. He’s cute.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“He is!” Soonyoung argues. “I saw him in your lap, Y/N. He’s adorable. And very… docile? Like, he’s so quiet. But also very silly. The kids would love him, you know. So would everyone else.”

“Even Seungcheol?”

Soonyoung thinks about it for a second. The cold air has made his cheeks all ruddy red, and he looks like a very earnest, very red-cheeked schoolboy as he nods firmly. “Yes. Even Seungcheol.”

You hum, still incredibly sceptical. “Well. I’ll think about it. We’ll have to see.”

───────────── ‘✽,

Unfortunately, even though you were slightly swayed by Soonyoung’s words and his instant kindness and all-round chillness in Hansol’s presence, you ultimately end up not bringing Hansol to the bonfire night. It’s not your decision, though: it’s Hansol’s.

“Are you worried about the humans?” you ask, when Hansol tells you that, respectfully, he doesn’t want to go. “You don’t have to worry about that. I could blast them all to pieces for insulting you, if that makes you feel better.”

Hansol smiles a little, before shaking his head. “No. It’s actually just… I’m not really a big fan of all the noise and stuff. And how hot bonfires are.”

“Oh.” You soften, concerned. “Have you been… hurt by fire before?”

“Huh? Oh, no,” Hansol says. He shrugs. “I just don’t like being too warm. Makes me uncomfortable.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. Because even as he says this, he’s cuddling up into your side, head on your shoulder, his tail curled comfortably around him. “Really?” you say. “You don’t like being too warm?”

Hansol’s ears flick. “Yeah. My magic originates from winter, as you might have noticed, so…”

“Oh, I hadn’t realised,” you say teasingly, tapping the tip of his nose lightly. “I thought the white fur and random bursts of frost on your skin meant you were a summery fox.”

Hansol scrunches his nose, and you laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, it does mean I don’t like being all warm, so fires are a no-go for me. Especially bonfires, where there are many people. That’s way too much warmth for me, for sure.”

“I see,” you say, reaching a hand up to tuck some of his silver hair out of his face as he nestles closer into your side. “That’s cool. But I am going to have to go, even if you aren’t. Will you be okay if I leave you here by yourself in the evening?”

“Yeah. Can you make me dinner before you go, though? Last time I tried, I almost destroyed your kitchen.”

“What? When was that?”

“Oops. Did I not tell you?”

Anyway, the bonfire night ends up being a bit of a disappointment. Several of the villagers have cottoned on to the fact you’re housing the yokai, and express their concerns to you over the matter several times over the course of the night. You love these people, you really do, but hearing so many of them advise you to send him back off into the woods for your own safety really wears you down after a while.

“I think Y/N understands what you’re saying now, imo,” a gentle voice butts in, right when you’re in the middle of having a particularly exhausting conversation. This tricky older woman’s insisting you let the yokai go… only, she’s using much more unkind words.

You were very, very close to losing your cool with her—respect the elders be damned because hell, you’re way older than she is—before she’s interrupted mid-sentence by a villager appearing over his shoulder, and you smile in relief as you recognise him.

At the call of “auntie”, she looks up and comes face-to-face with your saviour, Joshua, and all it takes is another gentle smile and some sweet words before he successfully convinces her to leave your side and rejoin her friends on the other side of the bonfire.

“Don’t worry about it,” Joshua says when you thank him for his help. “You know how they are. Once they latch on to you, it’s impossible to get them to leave without using some sort of witchcraft to pry them away.”

You laugh at that. “And yet, it seemed to be you who helped get them off me. Maybe you’re the real witchcraft user out of the two of us.”

Joshua laughs, light and melodious, magical fire reflecting in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything to your joke, however, and nods into the distance behind you, down the darkened paths that lead to your cottage. “You need to bring him out, though,” he says. “Whilst he’s still unknown, they’ll continue conjuring theories that become wilder by the day. They need to see the yokai so their suspicions can be wiped away once and for all.”

“Wh—Hansol?” You blink. “It’s dangerous, Shua. They might hurt him.”

“They’re hurting him now,” Joshua says. “They’re hurting you and hurting him by making stuff up. Just introduce him to them, okay? He can’t become part of our village if he never meets our villagers.”

At your stunned look, Joshua smiles.

“What? I know you, Y/N. You’re attached. You want him to stay. And honestly…” His smile turns a little more secretive, a little more knowing. “I think he wants to, too. The yokai will stay for you, but to truly bring him in, you have to bring him out to us.”

Joshua smiles again, the colours of his irises swirling together, before he pats you on the shoulder and gets up, leaving you there speechless.

He isn’t… wrong. But hearing it like that sounds insane.

You shake your head. Hansol will have to meet everyone sooner or later, you suppose. You very much do not want to go ahead with Seungcheol’s idea to let him be hidden, like a secret, so of course, you need to bring him out into the open.

You shake your head again, mystified. Joshua’s correct, but how does he know so much?

Honestly, you really do think he’s more of a witchcraft user out of the two of you. His incredible timing, his knowledge of all your thoughts, the fact he’d called Hansol a yokai rather than demon…

Also. How old even is he, anyway?

Too confused and befuddled by all the thoughts in your head, you end up playing with the children and run through the fire all night instead. It’s a lot safer than having to deal with all the grown-up stuff of thinking about things.

───────────── ‘✽,

Both Soonyoung’s and Joshua’s words linger in the back of your mind for days after that, and you contemplate how to get Hansol out of the house. Hansol had never really shown signs of wanting to be part of the village, which had made you reconsider this whole thing, wanting to brush away the villager’s words, before you actually asked the yokai, and—

Hansol shrugs. “Yeah. I’d like to get to know everyone. I want to be part of the village.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” he says again, smiling at you. “This village is your village, and I want to be with you.”

Oh. You smile back, touched. Hansol smiles wider, brightening at the eye contact, all sweet and lovely and really quite cute, before ducking his head and disappearing back through the shelves of your library once again.

So Hansol turns out to be not as against the idea as you thought, which makes you feel a lot better about thinking of how to get the villagers to trust him and how to get Seungcheol off your back for taking care of Hansol in the first place.

However, it ends up not being you who makes the first steps into getting him known. Oh, no.

Instead, Hansol does that all by himself.

It happens during the first snowfall of the year. You’d woken up to the beautiful sight of the white crystals floating down and covering the entire village with a soft, muffled coat, and the equally beautiful sight of Hansol, who had already woken up, practically pressing his nose against the window to look at the snow in awe.

He’d clearly wanted to go out and be in the snow—as a winter yokai, that made sense—but you’d had some errands to run that day, so you’d told him he could stay only in the front yard of the cottage and go no further.

Hansol had smiled at you, an amused quirk of his lips that acted as all the reassurance you needed.

So he’s sitting in the snow in front of your cottage, legs out in front of him, the silk of his clothes getting damper the longer he sits on the cold ground, but he hardly notices, more focused with tracing a finger through the soft white that is steadily building up.

Snowfall is Hansol’s most favourite wintry thing. It’s a perfect, wondrous phenomenon: the intersection of the perfect time and the perfect weather and the perfect temperature that makes the sky release soft handfuls of the white stuff down on Earth. Even nature falls silent when the snow falls. In Hansol’s opinion, that’s proof enough that it’s something to be appreciated beyond belief.

His robes, his old robes, used to have silver snowflakes embroidered into them, intricate and sprawling patterns that he could run his fingers over and almost feel the cold gust of wind that accompanied the snow. They’re not on the robes he’s wearing now—he’s wearing ones you’ve given him, after his old ones were ruined by his own blood—but he traces his fingers gently over the sleeves, letting frost spread out from his fingers like the feathery patterns that used to adorn the cloth he wore.

He quickly grows bored of that, though, and turns to the real snow in front of him, ears flicking absentmindedly to get rid of the small pile-up gathering on his head. He absentmindedly gathers the stuff in his hands, patting it into shapes and then leaving them out on the lawn.

This carries on for some time, and eventually there is an army of misshapen snow clumps in your front yard, all frosted over with a touch of his magic, and he grins, satisfied. And then his ears twitch again, and he feels… eyes. Watching him.

Hansol turns around, and some houses away, peeking from over a well-trimmed, leafless hedge, he sees three children clad in fluffy winter clothes staring at him, curious.

He doesn’t have much experience with human children. Or any children, for that matter. But he’s pretty sure that, when a yokai makes eye contact with them, they’re not meant to light up with glee and come running over with absolutely no regard for the icy paths or the danger that said yokai could present.

Surprised, Hansol jumps up to his feet, reaching out hands to steady the little kids as they skid over the snow and come to a stop right in front of him, eyes shining, expectant. He doesn’t know what they’re expecting, and being so close to these mini humans is a very awkward experience for him. He’s not sure what to do.

So he lifts a hand, and waves. “Hello?”

The three children beam, and one of them, the girl, practically vibrates with happiness when he speaks.

“Hello!” she chirps, and waves back. “I’m Yeowon! What’s your name?”

Hansol blinks, taken aback by her enthusiasm. “I’m Hansol.”

“Hansol!” Yeowon keeps speaking in exclamation marks, and it’s honestly kind of amusing. “It’s nice to meet you! This is Junghoon, and this is Minjun!” she says, gesturing to the boys on either side of him, who also give Hansol equally enthusiastic waves.

“Hello,” he says unsurely. How old are these kids? He doesn’t know much about human years, but they look… very young. Where are their parents?

He doesn’t get to voice his concerns before Yeowon starts speaking again, going a mile a minute and he can hardly get a word in edgeways.

“We were watching you from Minjun’s house,” she says, and picks up one of the snow balls that Hansol was making, lifting it up so he can look at his own handiwork. “These are so pretty! We wanted to come over and play with you, ‘cause we’ve never seen you before, but you live with Miss Witch, right?”

Hansol opens his mouth, but it’s apparent that wasn’t an actual question when Yeowon barrels on.

“So you must be a good guy! So we wanted to come say hello and play.”

She blinks big, innocent eyes up at him, as do the two boys, evidently begging him to play with them, or something. He doesn’t know what play entails, but… there’s no harm in entertaining these fun-sized humans, right?

So Hansol nods, says they can play with him, and sits down in the snow again. And then, before he knows it, they’re all shrieking and climbing over him and asking him to make figurines out of ice and snow and patting his hair in amazement and asking if his ears are actually real.

Children are very overwhelming, Hansol quickly learns. But he also kind of likes them: likes the way their eyes light up when he makes them the little ice characters they want, likes their fascinated smiles and the way they very gently touch his ears and accidentally get damp suede of their gloves in his mouth in their excitement. They’re bubbly, full of life, and so friendly with him that it honestly makes him so delighted that it surprises him.

“Make me one too! Make me one too!”

“Your ears look super fluffy! Can I touch your tail?”

“Why are your eyes yellow?”

“Can you make me something out of magic too, Mister Fox?”

“Mister Fox! Mister Fox!”

Hansol doesn’t know how it happens, but he blinks and suddenly he’s surrounded by what seems to be every child in the village, clamouring around him and asking if he could play, Please, Mister Fox, won’t you?

Your front lawn is quickly becoming a gathering place for the little humans who had swarmed towards him so quickly that Hansol’s starting to think they were waiting in the background for his very opportunity, and he makes more ice figures and listens interestedly to their babbling as they conjure stories for the figurines on the spot. They’re all so very noisy, but Hansol smiles, brimming with a similar sort of energy as his magic fizzes and pops with glitters of snow and makes the children laugh.

There’s no other way to describe it. He’s feeling happiness, pure and simple.

Unbeknownst to Hansol, there’s one human who’d been watching the entire scene right from the beginning. Coming down the path, on his way to visit the village’s magic-user, Soonyoung had noticed Hansol sitting by himself and had prepared to go over, extend a hand and a friendly word before Yeowon, Junghoon and Minjun had run over.

As a result, Soonyoung retreated a little ways round the bend to watch from a distance, which is where he is now, smiling at the innocent joy of both the children and Hansol.

From the opposite end of the path, he spots you walking back to your cottage, and clocks the exact moment you realise what’s happening in your front yard. Your eyes widen, and you stop in your tracks, before your eyes slowly lift further and you notice Soonyoung standing there too, smiling.

See? he seems to say with your eyes, meeting your gaze. They love him.

One of the children shrieks with laughter as she grabs Hansol’s tail and he playfully gasps in shock, scooping her up and lifting her into the air until she’s giggling and burbling for him to put her down. At his feet, one child is patting snow into the hem of his robes, and another is playing with a fox-eared figurine that Hansol had made him.

It looks so natural, and you watch them for a moment before looking at Soonyoung again. Soonyoung smiles even wider. You have nothing to worry about.

You laugh, a little bit in disbelief, warmth spreading across your face as you smile back, looking fondly at the sight in your front yard. Finally, you really do believe that that’s the truth.

───────────── ‘✽,

“Let’s go out,” you say, and Hansol looks up from his book, tilting his head inquisitively.

“Hm,” he says in reply. “Are you sure?”

It’s been a few days since the first snowfall, but the wintry precipitation has not let up, and it continues to softly drift down from the sky even as you speak. The blanket of snow covering the earth has also blanketed your senses, and your magic is nothing more than a gentle hum beneath your skin. A month ago, this would have stressed you greatly, but with Hansol and his winter-attuned magic singing happily around the entire room, you feel nothing but peace.

Nodding in reassurance, you smile at Hansol. “Very sure. Let’s go out today.”

Hansol blinks, once, and then smiles back, closing the book and getting up from the couch. “Okay. Where are we going?”

You smile wider. “To make you some friends.”

That was the plan, anyway. Ever since the first snow, when Hansol had been accosted by the children and ended up playing with them for a good part of the day, you’ve had several villagers come to your door, either complaining about the yokai or wanting to know more about him. So, you figure, today you should get him out to the village square so he can finally meet everyone. Regardless of their opinion of him.

Because you have trust in Hansol. Now, you have confidence he can turn their opinion around.

Hansol, despite having all the appearances and mannerisms of an introvert, doesn't seem to mind leaving the house for so many days in a row, and eagerly agrees as you urge him to get dressed and head out to the village square. There's the daily market taking place, and most people will be there, so it'll be a good opportunity to introduce him.

But, like you said, that was the plan.

Unfortunately, you're whisked away by some of the villagers who need help with their sick relative, leaving Hansol stranded in the village square.

“You don't have to stay,” you insist to him, as you're rushed off to deal with the medical emergency. “Seriously, Hansol, you can go home. Especially if anyone starts throwing insults, then just go, okay? I'll be with you as soon as I finish.”

Hansol watches you go, head tilted, slightly amused. It's kind of cute that you think he needs protecting. You know, since he's an ancient demon, and all. But before he can say as such, there's a small voice near his knee, and he looks down to see a small child, piping up in favour of him.

“Don't worry about Mister Fox!” the small boy chirps brightly. “We will look after him!”

And as if out of nowhere (seriously, where do these kids come from?) several children come up to him and cling to his robes, waving at you as you leave the market square. Hansol waves too, mystified by the miniature support latching onto him, but also a bit touched by their loyalty. They're really sweet.

“So what do you wanna do, Mister Fox?” the first little boy says, and Hansol recognises him as one of the first children to come up to him a few days ago. Minjun. “Are you hungry?”

Without even waiting for Hansol's answer, Minjun and the rest of the children start ushering him to the food stalls, fiercely advocating for their choice of what Mister Fox should eat first.

“Wait,” Hansol says, interrupting the particularly fierce fight over having hotteok or bungeoppang first. “Kids. Do you have any money?”

There's a short silence, and all the children look down, which is how he learns that they don't, and so they don't end up buying anything at all. Except, Yeowon, who joined the discussion partway through, manages to wheedle some of the stall-owners to give her free food with her big puppy eyes and innocent pout.

It’s like a magic trick, Hansol has to give her that. And when she happily tells the vendors that she’s sharing the food with Hansol, the villagers do nothing other than blink in surprise and then smile, polite and awkward, well. That’s also an incredible magic trick too.

They sit on the outskirts of the village market, pillowed by the mounds of snow all around them as they eat their steaming hot snacks. They’re delicious, and sticky, and very sweet, so it’s not too long before Hansol has several super-hyper, sticky-fingered children on his hands, who are all practically launching themselves into the snow with the bounding amounts of energy they have.

It becomes very noisy very fast, and Hansol starts panicking slightly, before he loudly suggests they ought to go and make some snowmen, and all the children whip their heads around to look at him, wide-eyed, and then—

“That’s such a good idea!”

“Yes! Let’s do that!”

“I’m gonna make the best snowman!”

“No, me!”

“No! Me!”

And then they go tumbling off into the snow, and Hansol slumps back down, relieved. He can still see them, and he can still sense them, too, so there’s no worry in any of them getting lost. At least he can now have some peace and quiet.

Twisting his lips thoughtfully, he gathers handfuls of the white snow, turning it over. He turns it over again, and then begins patting and shaping it in his hands until he has something that resembles a little snow duck.

It’s terribly misshapen, and the beak is a bit too long to be a duck, but it’s cute, and Hansol’s pleased. He swirls his fingers in the air, and uses some magic to add finishing touches, trying to rectify the wonkiness. It doesn’t work, but he still thinks it’s cute. You’d probably find it cute, too. Right?

Probably. Hansol hums to himself contemplatively. You like everything he does. It’s very sweet, he thinks, that you’re always so receptive to him, and it’s even sweeter that you genuinely enjoy his company. You brighten like a blooming chrysanthemum, spring-like in your warmth whenever he says something to you, and it makes him feel all warm too. Ever since the first time he woke up on your couch, out of his mind with a fever, and he’d noticed your floral chrysanthemum tea scent and accidentally called you the prettiest person ever, you’ve always been so gentle and kind and oh, Hansol likes you so much.

You’re just—lovely. You’re the loveliest being he’s ever met in his entire life, and that’s saying something, because Hansol’s been alive for a really fucking long time.

“Hello.”

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a light, melodic voice coming from over his shoulder, and Hansol looks up in surprise to see a villager bent over him, warm brown eyes glinting and the corners of his lips curving upwards in a seemingly permanent smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump. I just saw you, and thought I’d say hi,” the villager says, smiling properly, extending a hand. “I’m Joshua. You’re the yokai, right?”

Hansol manoeuvres his body around awkwardly and shakes Joshua’s gloved hand. “I’m Hansol, and yeah, I am the yokai. How could you tell?” His ears flick pointedly as he talks, and Joshua’s eyes immediately go to them before he smiles wider.

“Yeah, I guess it was a silly question,” Joshua says, and his fur boots crunch in the snow as he climbs over a mound and crouches down next to Hansol. “But I don’t wanna seem impolite, you know?”

Hansol shrugs, but he understands. “Yeah. I get it.”

Joshua smiles.

They say nothing for a moment, and Hansol lifts his head up briefly to check on the children. He can still see all of them, actually, dotted about the edges of the market as they build their snowmen. He watches them thoughtfully, and then down at the snow at his feet.

It only takes a moment for a snowman of his own to begin to form, aided by his magic as the snowballs roll themselves to become bigger and more round.

“That’s really cool,” Joshua comments, and Hansol had almost forgotten he was there. He’s so quiet, feather-silent, but when he catches Hansol’s eye and smiles, there’s a twinkle to his presence that makes him wonder how he could have ever forgotten him. “I’ve never seen anyone other than Y/N be able to do that.”

“Hm?” Hansol looks at the snowman that’s slowly being built. “Oh, well, it’s nothing, really.”

Even as he says so, his tail fluffs up in pride at Joshua’s words, and he begins adding more and more intricate frost details to the snowman. The feathery patterns wind through the body of his creation, like embroidery, and Joshua whistles, amazed.

“It’s very cool. Your magic is very cool.”

Hansol shrugs, bashful. “Thank you. But really, it’s nothing.” As the snowman continues to construct itself, he leans over to Joshua as if confiding a secret. “In the wild, there are yokai who can create literal monsters out of ice. In about five seconds flat. But I mostly just deal with frost and snow, so it’s a lot more difficult for me.”

Joshua tilts his head, genuine interest written all over his face. “Oh. I didn’t know there were differences in yokai magic.”

“Of course there are,” Hansol says, like it’s obvious. “Like there are differences in humans’ skills, there are differences for yokai, too. We are not unlike you, you know.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Joshua says thoughtfully. And then he looks Hansol in the eye again, smiling. Joshua is honestly so friendly, and even though they only met two minutes ago, he feels like he’s known him for years. “So you won’t object to being friends with a human, right?”

Hansol blinks, surprised, and Joshua’s smile just widens. It’s obvious what he’s asking, and Hansol feels… touched, that he’d even suggest such a thing.

“Yeah,” Hansol says, and his magic finishes off the snowman with an intricate flourish of frost. “I’d love to be your friend.”

“Joshua!”

The calling of the human’s name makes both Joshua and Hansol turn around, and they see one of the elder villagers coming over to them, the skirts of her robes swishing as she walks. She’s terribly intimidating, greying hair pulled back into a bun with a pointy hair stick, marching over with incredible grace even through the ankle-deep snow that has gathered. She squints at the yokai and how close Joshua is sitting to him.

“Mrs Choi,” Joshua greets, apparently oblivious to the sharpness of the woman’s gaze. “Hello. It’s very cold today, isn’t it?”

She eyeballs Hansol for a moment before nodding at Joshua. “Very. Frightful weather, but at least the children are enjoying the snow.” Mrs Choi lifts her gaze and squints into the distance, where the children are playing. “I hope someone is supervising them.”

“Oh, well, Hansol is, so don’t worry about it,” Joshua says with a smile.

Mrs Choi snaps her gaze back to them. “Is he really?” Hansol nods, doing his best to look as earnest and trustworthy as possible, and she hums. “I see.”

“He has them doing a snowman competition, actually,” Joshua says. “He’s very good at making them himself, too. Look. Don’t you think his creation looks amazing?”

He points to the snowman in front of them, glistening with frost and embroidered with thin ice, clearly a work of his magic. Hansol swallows, expecting Mrs Choi to fly into a tizzy over the presence of such witchcraft, but she just scrutinises the snowman, and then—

She smiles.

“It’s very pretty,” she says, and in the blink of an eye, her expression has turned warm. She’s smiling so nicely at Hansol, and then she leans down and brushes a hand over the top of his head, gently dusting away the snow that had landed in his hair. “Just like you, my dear.”

Hansol blinks up at her, open-mouthed. “I— thank you, ma’am.”

She chuckles, straightens, adjusts the skirt of her robes. “No need to thank me. I’m simply telling the truth.” Mrs Choi nods in the direction of the children, before turning away. “Thank you for taking care of the children, also. Keep up the good work.”

Hansol watches her go, feeling a little dazed. She had looked so sharp and stern at first, but something about him sitting there harmlessly and making a harmless snowman with harmless snow gathered in his hair must have done something to convince her that he’s, well, harmless. Which is good. Very good. Hopefully she’ll let everyone else know, too.

“Yeah, she looks scary, but Mrs Choi is anything but,” Joshua says with a laugh, when Hansol directs his wide-eyed gaze to him.

“She’s terrifying.”

“Her son takes after her,” Joshua chuckles. “Choi Seungcheol. He looks scary, but he’s a right softie on the inside, trust me.”

Hansol’s eyes widen further. “She’s Seungcheol’s mother? The village leader?”

“The one and only,” Joshua affirms. He laughs. “Don’t worry about him. His own mother found you cute. I’m sure he’ll be won over by you in no time. Especially if you keep making snowmen that rival Y/N’s in their intricacy. Seriously, I think yours are the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Shua, I hope I didn't just hear you dissing my amazing snowman building skills.”

Hansol looks up at your voice, and sees you slowly treading over to them, a drawstring bag dangling over your shoulder as you pick your way through the snow. The tip of your nose is red from the cold, cheeks a pretty pink with an amused smile on your face, and the moment he sees you, it’s like you’ve stolen his breath away.

Whilst Hansol’s too busy being starstruck, Joshua laughs, leaning back on his hands.

“So what if I was?” he teases, and nods to Hansol’s snowman. “Doesn’t it look amazing?”

You look away, directing your gaze to the snowman. Humming thoughtfully, you eye Hansol’s creation, and he begins to grow a little nervous under your critical silence, fiddling with his fingers and digging them into the snow, wisps of cold air seeping from his skin.

And then you smile, a lopsided smirk that makes Hansol feel a little dizzy.

“I can certainly do better.”

Before he can say anything, you set down your bag, and with a flick of your wrist the snow begins to swirl and gather itself before you. Under your command, golden streaks of magic begin to press the snow together, creating larger shapes that you obviously plan to sculpt into a showstopping piece.

You look almost relaxed in your movements, the entire process taking nothing more than a slight twitch of your fingers as magic sparks zip around the sculpture that’s gradually beginning to form. Hansol can only watch in awe, amazed at the fluidity and effortlessness of your power. By his side, he thinks he hears Joshua chuckle softly.

After a few short moments, the three of you are staring at a large, smoothly finished sculpture of a winter fox, and you smile and cross your arms, satisfied.

“What do you think?” you say, smug, confident in your belief that you’ve proved yourself.

Hansol’s jaw is on the floor. Delicate pointy ears, a fluffy-looking tail all made out of snow, and wow, are those whiskers? Did you really make whiskers?

“Wow,” is all he can say, staring at this lifelike fox that’s made entirely out of snow. “Wow.”

Just then, there are high-pitched exclamations from somewhere in the distance, and the children that Hansol’s been supervising come bounding over, shouting in amazement at the fox that you’ve made.

“Hi, kids,” you say when they’re close enough, laughing when Yeowon barrels into your legs to give you a hug. “Quick question, which snow sculpture do you think is better? The fox, or the Frosty the Snowman?”

They all look very thoughtfully at the two snow pieces in front of them, before unanimously pointing to your creation, and you grin triumphantly at Joshua and Hansol. Hansol just smiles back, totally expecting such an outcome. You’d beat him any day when it comes to stuff like this, and he’s totally fine with that.

“That’s not even a snowman,” Joshua protests, but it’s clear he’s arguing just for the fun of it. “Y/N, that’s not a fair competition.”

You shrug flippantly. “I’d win anyway.” And then you wink, pleased, and Hansol feels like burying himself in the snow just to try and get rid of his red cheeks.

“Mister Fox, we wanna play with you now,” Minjun says, and he looks up to see the children standing around him, red-cheeked and damp-haired but still eager to play more. “Can we play a game with you?”

“It’s getting late,” Hansol tries to say, but apparently, that had been a rhetorical question, because they’re hauling him up to his feet so they can play with him. “The market’s already closing. Shouldn’t you all go back to your parents now? Joshua? Y/N?” He looks back pleadingly as he gets dragged away, and you and Joshua just laugh, waving him goodbye.

“Have a nice time!” Joshua calls, standing up from the snow and brushing down his clothes. He stands closer to you, smiling as you both watch him begin to play. “He’s good with them, isn’t he?”

You smile too. “He really is.”

“The best,” another voice adds, and you look over your shoulder to see some of the villagers also watching Hansol. They’re all the parents, and yet they seem perfectly content to let their children play around with the yokai, any trace of hostility gone from their faces.

That makes you smile wider. “I’m glad you think so, Mrs Lee,” you say, and the woman smiles back. “Don’t worry. He’ll keep your children safe.”

Mrs Lee bows her head in acknowledgement, eyes turning soft as you all watch Hansol let the children punt tiny clumps of snow at him. “We know.”

They stay with you for a little longer, chatting about Hansol’s gentle nature and how wonderfully he gets along with the children, before eventually they disperse and begin packing up the market for the day. Next to you, Joshua is also smiling, looking fond, which is really weird because he barely knows Hansol but there’s definitely a clear look of admiration and affection in his face. Before you can comment on it, though, he pats you on the shoulder, and begins to step away.

“I better go,” he says. “Cheol’s coming your way. I think he wants a talk.”

He bids you goodbye then trudges back through the snow, and you look over your shoulder to see that Seungcheol really is coming your way. Instead of greeting him, however, you look back out at Hansol, and wait until the village leader is by your side.

“Hello, Y/N.”

“Hello, Seungcheol.”

You don’t offer him anything else, and so the two of you stand there in silence, continuing to watch Hansol play with the children. It is an adorable sight, though, and makes the corners of your lips twitch upwards the longer the silence goes on. He’s totally lenient with them, letting them pull his tail and ambush him with damp gloves and shrieking laughter. His head whips back and forth constantly between the two sides of kids that have inexplicably formed, somehow finding himself in the crossfire as snowballs get flung around him.

It’s cute, and it makes you laugh, heart warming with fondness. You can feel Seungcheol watching you out of the corner of your eye, and when it’s clear he’s not going to say anything until you do, you sigh and turn your back on Hansol at last, raising an eyebrow.

“Well?” you prompt. “What’s up? You didn’t come find me just to say hello.”

Seungcheol pauses, and looks down. “No. I didn’t.” A beat. “My mother actually told me you were here.”

“Okay. And?”

“She talked to Hansol,” he says, and both your eyebrows raise this time, in surprise. “She said to me that she liked him, and she wanted me to open my eyes and finally realise how much of a good person he is.”

Seungcheol clasps his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels. He looks over your shoulder, at where Hansol is undoubtedly doing something silly to entertain the children, and his eyes go gentle. They don’t soften, and they certainly don’t melt, but his gaze becomes a little more mellow, like a layer of hardness has finally given way.

“And he is a good person,” Seungcheol says, looking at you again. “I’ve been watching him all day. All week, in fact, and even if my mother hadn’t said anything, I would’ve sought you out to tell you this, because I think I owe you an apology.”

You breathe a laugh. “You certainly do,” you say, but there’s no real bite. Seungcheol’s actions were understandable. You’ve already forgiven him.

Seungcheol seems to know that too, because his lips quirk up into a half-smile. Nevertheless, his words are genuine when he says, “I’m sorry. I was too rash, and too harsh. Any worries I had over yokai did not excuse the way I talked about Hansol. Do you think you can also tell him how sorry I am?”

You draw in a long breath, cross your arms and lean back, staring down your nose at Seungcheol. His smile wavers, a little, but then you relax, breaking out into a grin.

“You can tell him yourself. He’d love to talk to you,” you say, and Seungcheol smiles too. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. You’re just looking out for the village, like you always do. But…” You shrug. “I was looking out for my kind, also. I was frustrated that you were treating Hansol like that just because he was a yokai.”

Seungcheol breathes out, wisps of white spilling from his lips. “I get that. It makes sense that you felt that way.” His eyes lighten with mischief suddenly, his smile taking on a teasing edge. “Especially considering the fact you’re in love with him, too.”

The world grinds to a halt. You stumble, taken aback by Seungcheol’s words. “I’m sorry, what?”

Nothing else gets to be said about the matter, though, because a small child goes zooming past you right at that moment, brushing against your side. And then, half a millisecond later, a fat clump of snow hits you square in the back.

The child continues running off, bubbling laughter fading into the market square. Slowly, very slowly, you spin on your heel and come face-to-face with the culprit.

Hansol’s still frozen in his throw position, one hand incriminatingly covered with snow. The moment he sees your face, his face breaks into a wide grin, that beautiful, big grin that shows the slight point of his yokai fangs. His eyes are glowing, alight with amusement and another, warmer emotion you can’t quite name.

He tilts his head to the side, eyeing the snow gently tumbling down your back. “Whoops?”

“Whoops?” you echo, breathing a laugh. You look at Seungcheol, as if saying Can you believe this guy? before turning back to Hansol, a handful of snow magically making its way into your hands. “Oh, you’re going to be saying a lot more than ‘Whoops’ in a minute.”

Hansol laughs, holding his hands up placatingly. “Now hold on a minute—”

Abruptly, his head jerks back, and he gets knocked off his center of balance by the force of the snowball you’d just lobbed at him.

You burst into laughter as Hansol, sitting on the ground and with snow in his hair and up his nose, wipes his eyes with a grin. “Now you’re just asking for it, I think.”

Still laughing, you snap your fingers, and several more balls of snow float up around you. “Oh, it’s on.”

Cut to several minutes later, and somehow, the snowball fight between the two of you has devolved into a village-wide thing, children slipping and sliding in the snow alongside their parents as Seungcheol yells at his team to close ranks and you yell at yours to focus their sights on Hansol. The icy air stings your cheeks, and at some point it begins to snow again, hard, blurring your sight, but the whole thing still continues, the square filled with the laughter of the villagers.

And throughout it all, Hansol manages to find your gaze no matter where he is, gold eyes seeking your gold magic, and the beautiful sound of his laughter leaves you breathless every time.

───────────── ‘✽,

All things considered, perhaps it’s totally expected that you end up falling for Hansol.

You don’t get to truly mull over Seungcheol’s last words until much later, when you and Hansol have both changed out of your sopping wet clothes and are sitting curled up together on the sofa, both of you blinking sleepily at the fire you’ve lit in the fireplace.

The snowball fight ended incredibly amiably, with everyone agreeing that Seungcheol’s team had obliterated everyone else’s, despite the lack of magic users in his group. You’d helped some of the villagers dust themselves off, and used magic to dry off the people who had gotten the most wet. Soonyoung, inexplicably, looked like he’d been dunked five times in a swimming pool, rather than emerging victorious from a snowball fight.

Finishing with Soonyoung, you’d looked back, and of course—Hansol was playing with the children, again, as if he had endless reserves of energy to spare. But in between letting the kids climb his legs and play with his swishing tail, he was chatting with the rest of the villagers, helping them tidy away their things.

It made you smile.

And then Hansol had looked back at you, as if sensing your gaze, and his entire face had lit up, brighter than the brightest summer’s day, and he’d quickly said goodbye to the villagers before coming bounding over to you, face so open and comfortable and warm and—

Yeah. You like him a lot. And you’re sure that he likes you a lot too.

Hansol yawns, big and wide and content, his tail flicking lazily as he rests on your shoulder. Outside, the snowfall has increased to a snowstorm, complete with howling winds and dark, looming clouds, but inside, your cottage is warm, and you have a sleepy yokai pressed against your side, and life is, admittedly, kind of perfect.

There’s just one thing, though.

You need to tell him.

Lost in thought, you shift around absentmindedly, and Hansol looks up questioningly at the movement. The warmth of your magic prickles softly in the air around you, and when he takes your hand, you can feel his own magic murmuring softly in tandem with your own.

He continues to look at you, and then smiles, eyes glowing. Goodness, he really is so pretty.

“I like you,” you whisper, the words falling from your lips as if he’s enchanted you, bewitched you into saying how you truly feel for all to see. “I like you, Hansol.”

Hansol blinks, slow, cat-like. He lifts his head up, pulls away slightly from your shoulder so he can sit up and look at you properly. His eyes are shining, slitted pupils widening and rounding in adoration.

“That’s good,” he says. “Because I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

It’s almost a direct copy of the first words he’d said to you, almost a lifetime ago, when he had been out of his mind with a fever, red-cheeked and hazy-eyed and fixated on the way you smelled like chrysanthemums. The memory makes you laugh, heart squeezing with fondness, and you reach forward to cup Hansol’s cheeks, smiling wider when his eyes flutter shut briefly and he leans trustingly into your touch.

“That’s funny,” you say. “Because I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

Hansol’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, showing those yokai fangs that you adore so much. His ears twitch with happiness, light speckles of frost covering his cheeks as he blushes. He’s so pretty, and you love him so much.

Slowly, you inch closer until the tip of his nose brushes against yours. So close that you can count the snowflake-shaped freckles on his cheeks.

“You forgot to say it back, though,” you murmur. “Hansol, you didn’t say you like me back.”

Hansol breathes a soft laugh. “I thought it was obvious.” His smile widens, so enamoured that it warms your heart. “Y/N, I like you too. In fact, I think I’m in love with you.”

You beam. “You know what? I think I’m in love with you too.”

And then you lean forward, and Hansol leans in too, and your lips meet in the softest, sweetest kiss. He tastes like magic, like love, like soft snow that numbs your senses but leaves your heart alive and alight and oh, this is everything you never knew you needed and more.

Hansol’s silver-white hair is falling into his eyes when you pull away, his golden irises shining brightly through them like dazzling, gorgeous sunlight peeking through the translucent colours of snowfall. The sight makes you instantly lean in to kiss him again, dizzy with adoration because goodness, this happiness is for you. He looks like this because he loves you.

And you love him too.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

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radiance1 · 11 months ago

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Inspired by @puppetmaster13u and various dragon aus they have.

BUT! This is also a bit of a fantasy/DnD au I guess...? IDK BUT HERE WE GO-

Okay now so, I'm imagining that that Danny, Tucker, and Sam create a pocket dimension for their game via the use of reality warping (via scepter) and something given to them by Pariah Dark before he went off on that whole honey moon thing with Clockwork.

For the record, Danny isn't the ghost king here, Pariah Dark is he's just the prince.

Sam created a garden from the barren earth, that eventually grew into a great forest and spread out to the rest of the world, which technically made her the creator of life but anyways. So, she's holed up in said garden turned forest.

Tucker bestowed upon his subjects (after they were made of course) knowledge and technology and is regarded as the greatest teacher in that world's history.

Danny? Oh yea he became that one that giant dragon that everyone knows is there, is afraid of, and just sleeps all day in this one specific place. You'd have to cut him some slack though, because no one told him creating a world and its laws would be so hard even with help.

That and him, as the one with basically the most knowledge and resident fanboy of space, created the stars surrounding the place as well!

Of course, they couldn't stay there all of the time. What with work (Tucker), high-society (Sam), and studying (Why the heck did Danny decide to go to collage again?). That entire place was just made to play around in before they had to go their separate ways and be, you know, actual adults, so it was easy enough to let go of it really.

Except for Danny. Not of any great reason, really, he just needed someplace where he could quietly study in peace, nap, think or just get away from the Ghost Zone before he had to go through all that princely nonsense again. Plus, none of their creations in that pocket dimension really wanted to mess with the giant fuck off dragon who was said to created the place anyways.

For the record, Danny is more of an eastern dragon in design with a long body rather than western. So that probably just added more into his intimidation with his sheer length.

So, you know, of course he would have been none too pleased when someone actually did disturb his solitude (as stated by the dimension's residents) as soon as the world was thrown off-balance by an outside force.

Meanwhile, Klarion the Witch boy is having the time of his life coming across a whole world that somehow hasn't been affected by Order or Chaos. So he's capitalizing on that.

Then he came across a place that was said to be sacred, not that he cared, and then came across a boy who didn't look a day over his teens (which frankly doesn't say much in regards to immortals) with a frankly long tail that looked longer than he was tall and very majestic looking horns.

Danny was annoyed yet curious, Klarion was surprised yet delighted.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #Honestly I have no idea what I did with this #But #Dragon au les go or something #Will Danny and Klarion become friends? I don't know #Danny is technically an adult by human standards but he no longer ages #Physically at least #Probably because he became royalty too fast or Dragon immortality I guess-#Anyways have fun with this or something idk

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caelesjjk · 1 year ago

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simply meant to be | jjk

☾ Title: Simply Meant to Be ☾ Pairing: pumpkin king!jungkook x fem reader ☾ Genre/AU: nightmare before Christmas au, romance, horror, smut ☾ Rating: m (18+) ☾ WC: 4.6K ☾ Warnings: this is not your average nightmare before christmas, its pretty dark and unhinged. jungkook is jack skellington. reader is somewhat of a sally character. jungkook calls you immortelle (it means everlasting), jungkook has face tattoos (you'll see), monsters, fear, seokjin appearing as Dr. Finkelstein hehe, electrocution therapy, being held against will, jungkook unalives someone, a game of cat and mouse, mentions of blood, smut in the forms of: kissing, grinding, fingering, unprotected sex, knife play, blood play, creampie ☾ Summary: you aren’t sure how any of it can be real. This place…these creatures…this man. You wake up next to a man you’ve never seen before with no memory of who he is or where you are. But everyone in town seems to know you. You belong to the Pumpkin King. Scared and utterly terrified you run into someone who claims they can help you remember. And now you’re starting to wonder if that’s truly what you want. ☾ Authors Note: hello darklings! Please enjoy my trick for the Fantasy and Fangs halloween collab! this fic became so much more unhinged than i originally planned lol. it may not be for everyone! just e sure to check my warnings before you proceed with the fic. this is heavily unedited.

Your body jolts upright, lungs immediately gasping for breath.

Panic surges through every nerve as you frantically look around at your surroundings and grasping at the thin sheet you find bunched around your hips.

You’re naked. God why are you naked? How did you get here? Where the fuck are you?

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look next to you in bed and see that someone is lying next to you. A broad back and muscular arms covered in tattoos leading up to a head of messy black hair that covers the persons face lies snoring quietly against the sheets.

“Shit.” You mumble, wrapping the thin sheet around your body as you scramble out of the bed. The man lying in the bed stirs slightly and reaches into the space where your body once was.

You don’t wait to see anything else, dashing for the bedroom door and stumbling into the very dark hallway. The only light comes from the cobweb covered candle sconces that line the black painted walls.

You adjust the sheet around you the best you can before taking off running down the hallway. There is an immediate feeling that you’re being watched and you make the mistake of turning around to look behind you.

The dark shadowy silhouette of a man stands where you had just been a moment ago. You beg your feet to move faster.

Before you reach the top of the stairs, you glance back over your shoulder once more to see what you can only describe as a jack o lantern grin light up and stretch across the face of the man taking his time moving towards to you down the hallway.

“Where are you going, immortelle?”

A voice comes into your mind and almost causes you to fall face first down the winding spiral staircase in front of you.

“Please leave me alone.” You beg as you rush down the stairs. You don’t make it far before you suddenly feel hands gripping at your ankles. Hands with claws….some covered with slime…reaching from under the stairs and tearing at the sheet keeping your naked body from being exposed.

You scream until your throat hurts. Kicking at the hands as you continue to fight your way down the stairs.

“You know how much I love chasing you, baby.”

Somehow you manage to make it to the bottom of the stairs, but you almost wish that you hadn’t when you fall against the front door and throw it open.

You must be hallucinating with fear.

Outside the sky is black and grey swirls of clouds in constant motion, you know if you stared too long you’d become dizzy. Instead, your eyes wonder around to the bare trees surrounding the house you just made your way out of. Just a few leaves hang on for dear life as the wind quite literally howls through the air.

Down the crooked stone steps in front of you is a huge iron gate with two giant pumpkin designs bent into the bars. Gargoyles sit atop every stone post surrounding the house.

Wasting no more time, you descend the stairs until you’ve reached the iron gate, shaking the bars when it doesn’t budge.

“Please open. Please.” You shove with your shoulder as hard as you can and the gate loudly creaks open just enough for you to squeeze out into the open street.

You turn around and shove the gate back shut, looking up at the top of the stairs where the man who had been chasing you through the house now stands with a smile on his half tattooed face and his arms crossed over his bulky bare chest.

You can see even from here that the tattoos on the left side of his face are skull like features. It’s absolutely terrifying.

He lifts a hand in a wave as he menacingly tilts his head to the side and smiles.

Fuck this.

You wrap the blanket tighter around you and take off down the street without a single clue as to where you are. Anywhere has to be better than where you just were.

You spoke too soon again.

The sight in front of you as you round the corner is just as terrifying as that house and that man.

There are monsters, literal monsters, standing in the streets. Selling items at market booths. Chasing their children on the sidewalks. Laughter…and screams. It’s a terrible mix of sounds.

You freeze as a bouncy ball belonging to what you can only assume is a swamp monster child rolls against your feet.

“Happy first day after Halloween Ms Y/N!” The little creature says, staring at you expectantly.

Your instincts tell you not to scream. If you scream it will only make things worse.

“You know my name?” Your voice shakes and so do your hands as you continue holding the blanket around your body.

“Are you alright, miss?” The child’s mother appears behind him, looking at you with concern.

“I um…I should go.” Your bare feet move to cross the street, making you pause when you step in something wet. You know that it’s blood before you even look down. Vomit threatens to fill your mouth but you continue walking away, dragging the train of the sheet you’re wearing through more of the bloody streets.

More monsters stare at you as you go. Some with long sharp teeth and claws that could easily slice through a normal humans delicate skin. Some walked on two feet and some slithered across the ground like sickly serpents.

“Are you lost?” A horrifying witch grabbed your arm and tried to pull you back into the street.

“No, no I’m just on my way somewhere.” You lie the best you can, yanking your arm away only to immediately see deeps scratches from her long nails.

“So sorry miss.” She cackles, moving to join two other witches who were waiting for her on the other side of the street. They all continued their uneasy laughing until you turned the corner up ahead.

As you turned the corner you ran hard into something. Or someone it would appear when you looked up.

“What are you doing out here in nothing but a blanket, Y/N?” The man asks, pushing a pair of glasses up onto his nose.

This man had stitches across his forehead and down around his neck. Like some kind of Frankenstein’s monster, he’s been sewn together.

“Do I know you? Why does everyone here know my name?” You step back to put space between you and the monster.

“Ah, I see. Come with me.” He turns and begins walking but stops when you don’t follow. “I can help you. Come.” He holds out a hand, and while you don’t know what the fuck is happening, something tells you it’s okay to trust this stranger.

You take his hand.

“Who are you?” You finally ask.

“I’m a friend. Dr. Kim Seokjin.” He swings your hands between you in a silly way. “You usually call me Jin. Sometimes Jinnie.”

“Jin.” You repeat, the name feeling familiar on your tongue. “Where are we going?”

“To my lab. I have things that can help you there.” Jin turns another corner and up ahead you can see a tall crooked tower looming in the distance.

“Your lab is in there?”

“It is. Don’t worry Y/N, I promise you’re safe with me.”

You swallow hard but continue to let Jin lead you inside the tower and up, up, up the long spiraling stairs until you reach a door that he slides open.

Inside is a room filled with equipment and various experiments. Glass beakers filled with colorful liquid bubble and burble over small open flames. Sparks fly from wires that connect to different machines and some that connect to nothing at all. There are also several control panels at the center of the room with gurneys situated next to them.

“What kind of doctor are you, Jin?” Your voice shakes a little.

“The helpful kind.” He answers with a menacing grin on his face and a flicker of something slightly insane in his eyes.

“Wh-what do you have here that can help me?” You look down at the dirty blanket still wrapped around your body.

“First,” he grabs your hand again and leads you to a side room that has a cot with some folded clothes lying on top of it, “you can use those clothes to change into, okay? Whatever you want.”

“Thank you.” You step into the small room and turn to face him. “Is something really wrong with me? Something that makes me not remember?”

“Everything is fixable. I’ll have you as good as new in no time.” Jin winks and closes the door behind him so that you can change in private.

You dress in a daze, still feeling very off kilter from everything that’s unfolded from the moment you opened your eyes. Flashes of the man you woke up next too and his terrifying tattooed face race across your memory and leave chills over your skin.

“Ready now?” Jin calls from outside the door. You take a deep breath and walk back out into the laboratory. “Why don’t you take a seat on one of those?” He motions to the gurneys at the center of the room.

Reluctantly, you walk over to them and sit on the thin mattress. It crumples under your weight and immediately sends a sense of dread swimming into your veins.

“How can you fix me?” You barely get the sentence out before Jin is next to you, situating your arms at your sides and wrapping leather straps around your wrists. “What are you doing?” Panic thick in your voice.

“This is how we fix you. Bite this.” He puts a leather strap up to your mouth.

“Are you crazy?! I’m not doing this. Let me go!” You pull against the restraints, thrashing your head and body in an attempt to get the fuck away.

“I know it’s a little frightening. You do this every time. One of your only flaws.” Jin shakes his head, sounding disappointing.

“Flaws? What are you talking about!?”

“You’re my creation. I made you.” He tilts his head and smiles, “and you’re absolutely perfect except for that mind of yours. It resets. Forgets.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Creation?! I’m a human being! I’m not some experiment! What is wrong with you?” Hot tears starts to leak from the corners of your eyes and blur your vision.

“You’re so adorable sometimes.” Jin yanks on your restraints to tighten them, “sit still, Y/N.”

“You’re hurting me.” You whimper.

“You think that hurts?” Jin smiles before he begins sticking sticky pads to your head and neck. “Just wait.” He whispers into your ear.

You’re such an idiot to have trusted this monster. You were so sure that he was good. A friend. He felt like a friend when you saw him. Familiar.

“Please…don’t.” You beg just before he forcefully shoves the piece of leather between your teeth.

“You’ll thank me soon.”

Terror freezes your body as you watch him slam down a lever on one of the control tables, green electric waves traveling down the wires and entering your body in trembling shocks.

You don’t know how long you lay there, screaming through the pain before you pass out from how much electricity Jin lets pass into your body. But eventually the room goes black and the last thing you hear is Jin manically laughing from across the room.

“It’s getting worse.”

“I tweaked some things this time. I’m hopeful it lasts longer.”

“It better. I’m tired of losing her.”

You hear quiet voices as you begin to come to. Voices that you recognize almost immediately.

“Jungkook?” Your voice croaks. Almost immediately the door to the small room slides open and the silhouette of the only person you want to see fills the doorway.

“You’re okay, immortelle?” Jungkook rushes into the room and kneels next to the cot you’re laying on.

“What happened to me? Why am I in Jinnie’s lab?” You turn your head to face him when he cups your cheeks in his hands.

“You had another episode, my sweet.” He brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles one by one.

“Episode?” Your brows draw together in confusion.

“You forgot who you were. That you belong to me. You forgot it all.” Jungkook looks sad while he explains and it breaks your heart.

“How could I forget you?” You sit up slowly and he helps you. “How could I forget my love?”

“It’s not your fault, immortelle. Don’t blame yourself.” Jungkook looks over his shoulder at Jin who stands in the doorway. Jin rolls his eyes before walking away.

“Take me home?” You ask, wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s neck when he picks you up into his arms bridal style.

“Of course.”

Jungkook carries you down the long winding staircase of the laboratory and outside where it’s pitch black besides the white melting candles inside the lamp posts along the street.

A smile pulls across your face when you see all the monsters that you love busy in the streets. They all smile back at you, tossing greetings and wishes of quick recoveries your way.

“They love you.” Jungkook whispers into your ear.

“No. They love you, you’re their pumpkin king. I’m just lucky enough to be yours.” You touch the skull details tattooed on the side of his face so he looks at you.

“You’ll be their queen soon.” He reminds you. You lean up to kiss his lips.

“Let’s get something to eat before we go home. I’m famished.” Jungkook sits you on your feet but keeps your hand in his.

Jungkook talks with some of the shop owners and you watch as he gathers all of your favorite things into a basket. Wines, cheeses, and some sweet treats leftover from the night before. You love him so.

You make your way over to a stand selling haunted dolls and look around at all the choices. You’re about to go back to find Jungkook when someone grabs your arm and twists you around.

“You’re so pretty.” The drunken vampire says, the smell of blood thick on his breath. He’s had too much.

“I appreciate your compliment, but I need you to let go of my arm.” You pull away but he doesn’t let go.

“Don’t be that way. Come with me.” He stumbles and almost falls on top of you.

“Get off of me!” You say louder but the vampire doesn’t listen, it’s nails scratching through your skin. You’re about to scream for Jungkook when he’s suddenly there, ripping the vampires hand from your arm.

“May I ask what you think you’re doing? Touching what’s mine?” Jungkook says too calmly.

“I…I didn’t recognize Ms. Y/N…I didn’t realize.” The vampire stumbles over his words.

“Is that your excuse?” Jungkook laughs, the terrifying cackling sound sending tingles through your body.

You know what’s going to happen next, and the thrill alone has you aching between your legs.

“I’m sorry, I’ll never make the mistake again.” The vampire takes a few steps back.

“Immortelle?” Jungkook looks over his shoulder to you. He’s asking a silent question that you already know the answer to. You nod yes as a smile spreads across your face.

“Remember in your next life my friend, to keep your filthy hands off my girl.” Before you can blink his hand is shooting out between them and into the vampires chest cavity. He holds it there a moment so that he can watch the life drain slowly drain from the vampire before he yanks his hand back out holding the still thumping heart in his hand.

The vampire falls to the ground in a lifeless heep, his eyes still open and eternally full of the fear he last experienced. The crowd around the market doesn’t take offense, they know if their pumpkin kills someone it was for a damn good reason.

Jungkook turns towards you, handing the heart to one of the children playing with the body on the ground. He pats their head and then slowly brings his hand up to his mouth, licking a thick stripe from the bloody palm of his hand to the tip of his middle finger, all while keeping eye contact with you.

You smile, closing the space between the two of you and claiming his mouth. Your tongue seeks out the blood that’s dropped down his chin and around his lips.

“It never gets old…watching you kill for me.” You breathe into his mouth while his blood hands lace into the strands of your hair.

“We need to get home before I show everyone here how well I fuck you.” His mouth leaves hot kisses against your neck as he leads you backwards down the street until your back hits the iron bars of a familiar gate.

Home.

The gate loudly creaks open as soon as it realizes the two of you have arrived. Jungkook stops kissing you to take your hand and walks with you up the stone stairs to the front door that also opens all on its own, the door knocker welcoming you home.

“Do you want to play?” You whisper, making Jungkook pause at the bottom of the stairs. Those tattooed details raising into a smile.

“Okay, immortelle. Let’s play.” He kisses the top of your hand before taking a step back. He slowly slips of his black and white striped suit jacket and unbuttons his shirt before it joins the jacket on the floor.

You soak in the tattooed planes of his body, the muscles begging to be touched. His dark falling over his forehead as he steps back farther into the shadows until he’s completely disappeared from your sight.

“You know what happens if I catch you, immortelle.” His voice floats into your ear from somewhere unknown. “Don’t let me catch you.”

A thrill shoots through your body again and you sprint for the stairs, loving the way the monsters and ghouls grab at your ankles and whisper your name. You immediately turn left at the top of the stairs, your mind going a million miles an hour trying to think of where you could hide.

He knows all of the good places for hiding.

In a last ditch idea, you run into your shared bedroom upon hearing Jungkook’s footsteps running up the stairs. He took this game of chase so seriously and never took it slowly.

You slide under the bed, your chest heaving in fear but also excitement. You’re hoping by hiding somewhere obvious that he won’t even think to look here and waste his time checking all of the usual spots you tend to hide.

“Where are you, immortelle?” You hear his menacing voice out in the hallway coming closer. You almost giggle. “You know I’ll find you. I will always find you.”

You hear his footsteps stop outside the bedroom door and then the door slowly opens right after, lightly hitting against the wall behind it.

Jungkook’s heavy footsteps make the floorboards creak as he walks into the room. You throw a hand over your mouth to keep from making any noises. Jungkook undoes the buckle of his belt and a moment later slips it from his belt loops and lets it clang against the hardwood floor.

“Are you soaked for me right now, my love?” You watch with wide eyes as Jungkook slowly walks around the bed. “I’ll find out soon enough.”

He doesn’t say anything else and when you look around at the floor you notice that he’s no longer next to the bed, his black boots no longer anywhere in sight. You release a long breath of relief.

And then you’re being yanked by the ankle from beneath the bed, a startled scream escaping you as you flip onto your back just in time to see Jungkook trap you with his body against the floor.

“You caught me.” You smile, lifting your hips up to meet his, desperate for friction against your core.

“Don’t I always?” His mouth is on yours, his hands pushing your dress up around your hips.

He was desperate for you too.

“I love you.” You whisper on his lips, the tattooed skeleton grin on his beautiful face turning upwards.

Jungkook sits up on his knees between your legs giving you a full view of his naked torso. Pretty muscles and flawless skin that you ached to leave your mark on. Scratches and bite marks and bruises were the only things that could make him more perfect.

Your chest heaves as you watch him reach behind his back in the band of his black dress pants to retrieve a silver shiny knife. Your pulse quickens immediately.

“Is this what you want, immortelle?” He presses the cold steel flat against the inside of your thigh, keeping the blade from cutting you just yet.

“Will you torture me?” You ask, your hands coming up to cup your breasts with anticipation.

“Absolutely.” Jungkook moves the knife farther up your skin until the point brushes over underwear. You moan pathetically at the feel of it brushing over your center and slowly sliding over onto your other thigh.

“Jungkook…” you sigh.

“Be patient. I’ll give you what you want.” Jungkook uses his other hand to undo the button and zipper of his pants, pushing them down until his perfect cock springs free from the confines.

You bite your lip at the sight in front of you. Jungkook slowly strokes himself to the sight of the knife moving across your skin. He draws the sharp side of the blade oh so gently across your stomach, so sharp you don’t even feel it draw blood. The view of you on display for him makes him groan and move his hand a bit rougher up and down his shaft.

Your fingers move on their own accord, slipping through the small pool of blood on your stomach and moving them back over your breasts to smear the crimson liquid in a trail.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re so perfect.” Jungkook moves the knife to your throat, gently leaving one long cut from one side to the other. You immediately feel warm blood leave the wound and drip down the sides of your neck.

Jungkook drops the knife to the floor and bends over your body to attach his mouth to your neck. He licks and sucks at your blood, whimpering at the taste of it on his tongue. Your body instinctively arches from the ground, your chest rubbing against his and spreading more of your blood between your bodies. It was the most beautiful visual you could imagine.

You looked down between your bodies to see Jungkook’s hand still stroking his cock as he continues to move his mouth down your body to the cut on your stomach. You can barely stand the burn in the pit of your stomach any longer, your desire for the man on top of you smoldering too hot.

“I need you now. Please.” You lace your hands into Jungkook’s hair and lift his face. The sight of his face covered in your blood, his eyes solid black with lust almost does you in completely.

“Such a good girl, saying please.” He moves back onto his knees, squeezing precum from the head of his cock before he releases it completely and picks the knife back up off the floor. You watch in awe as he brings it to his mouth and licks the blood from the blade.

“I always want to be good for you.” You say sweetly. His cock twitches at the sound of your obedient voice.

Jungkook moves the knife down between your legs and ever so carefully pressed the sharp blade to your underwear and drags it down until the fabric slices apart and reveals your absolutely drenched pussy to him. The knife clangs to the floor again and Jungkook leans back down to claim your mouth, his thumb immediately finding your clit.

Your lips part to moan and his tongue swipes against yours swallowing up all the sounds that escape you. The dripping head of his cock suddenly swipes through your folds and causes a high pitched whine to bubble up your throat.

“Is your pussy desperate to be filled, immortelle?” His hand swipes the blood on your stomach before it’s back on his cock, the blood lubing his shaft to make it easier when he fucks himself into you.

“Yes. It hurts, Jungkook.” You let your hands wander his chest and stomach, watching him watch you.

“I’m not going to last long once I get inside your perfect pussy, my love. But I need you to cum and I need you to scream.” Without warning he roughly spears himself inside you, his hands holding you on his cock as you writhe from the sudden intrusion.

“Oh my fucking god.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he starts to move, rough and hard.

“Made for me. I literally had you made just for me and you’re perfect. So fucking perfect and pliant just for me.” Jungkook’s hand comes down to your throat, careful of the cut across your skin, he gently tightens his grip.

You immediately see stars, wrapping both of your hands around his wrist to keep him in place. You gasp and moan at the feeling of him controlling your breathing and ruining your pussy at the same time.

“I’m going to come. God I’m coming right now.” The words are quiet as he continues to hold your throat but he hears you just fine, moving his hand from your throat to play with your clit.

“Scream. I need you to scream so I can fill you up.” You open your eyes to see Jungkook watching you, his hair sweaty and mouth parted. Just when you’re about to beg for a kiss he punches your clit between his fingers and your orgasm rolls through you like a hurricane.

Black and white sparks explode behind your eyes and though you can’t hear yourself, you know that you scream loud and high pitched. Just what Jungkook needs to find his own end, dropping on top of you as he continues to fill you past the brim and onto your thighs.

Dried blood scratches between your skin and his as he lies on top of you, his head against your chest and your hands roaming the expanse of his broad shoulders.

“You’re okay, immortelle?” He finally asks through his heavy breathing.

“I am, of course.” You lift his face to place a kiss to his lips.

“We didn’t even make it to the bed this time.” He laughs lightly, groaning as he pulls out and helps you sit up with him.

“I didn’t mind.” You both smile knowing he feels the same.

“I’ll never mind being with you, immortelle. Never.” He touches your cheek and kisses your lips once more.

“Even if…even if I keep forgetting?”

“Even then. We are simply meant to be, my love.”

#bts fic #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jjk

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dreamescapeswriting · 7 months ago

Text

Bound By Fate ~ LF

⤜ WORD COUNT: 13.6K

⤜ PAIRING: Fae!Felix x Human!Fem!Reader

⤜GENRE: Fantasy au, Fae worlds, fae talk, description of different worlds, “enemies” to lovers,soulmates, “mates” defeating an evil queen, love, slow burn?

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

You adjusted the grip on the leash as you walked through the woods with your dog, Max, who was tugging you along the new path you'd found the week before. You'd been desperately looking for a new place to take your dog out and when you found this place online you hadn't been able to resist. It wasn't that he couldn't be around other dogs but Max seemed to flourish more when he walked alone with you rather than having the distraction of other dogs around you.

It was an old abandoned road that used to lead to a mining site but it was now just a peaceful path for dog walkers or horses to take a stroll down. It had some reviews online that you'd been reading about but none of the descriptions of photographs had done the place justice.

The path where the old road used to be, was now almost unrecognizable under a thick blanket of grass and wildflowers that surrounded it. The pavement was cracked and fragmented, nature reclaiming it at every inch you looked around.

"Easy Max," You giggled a little as he excitedly began to dive through the long grass in front of you, his ears flapping every time he bounced around. Tree-lined the pathway, providing a sense of peace and privacy and even filtered out the sunlight that was above.

Everything was peaceful, not a single sound of other civilisation around as you listened to the resulting leaves, the chirping of birds and the occasional scamper of whatever woodland creature was around.

"Max..." You trailed off as Max stood to attention, almost as though he could hear something you couldn't and he slowly began to lower to the floor, his eyes fixated on something behind some trees.

Something in the air changed, the calming sense of serenity you had been feeling was wiped away in one swoop and replaced with a sense of dread. You didn't believe in much but what you did believe in was if everything went silent in the middle of nowhere, it was a sign to leave.

"Let's go," You whispered, softly tugging on Max's lead but he barked, his tail down between his legs before he lunged at whatever had caught his attention through the trees.

"Easy! Max!" You screamed, trying to gain control of him but he continued to pull and you felt a chill run down your spine as you ventured further into the woods, a silent warning telling you to turn and leave.

"I'm telling you, no one would even know it's here." Someone said, your head shot around in search of anyone that was around but there was no one, no one at least where you were standing.

"She just wants us to take a look, we look and we come back. It's not that hard, once we're back through the portal shuts and no one would even know one has been opened. The same voice said again. Either someone was very high on drugs or you'd walked in on a set for a film, who talked that way? You frowned looking around for what was making noise when you spotted it.

It looked like a window but floating in the middle of the air, light pouring through it as you saw snow inside.

"Shit, the prince is coming. S-Shut it down!" A nasal voice said before rustling was heard, you turned away from it shaking your head thinking you might have lost your mind for seeing and hearing such things.

"Well, that was weird." You whispered to Max, about to pull him away when you felt something tugging on your bag, you grunted a little at the tug.

"Looky what we found." The same voice from before said before you felt a rough tug on your back and you flung backwards, hitting the floor with a thud and groaning loudly.

You stared up at the sky which was now a dark grey colour and snow fell down around you, your body ran cold as you stared up at the sky.

"What the fuck-"

"Morgath is going to love you," The voice from before grumbled before you were dragged to your feet, your eyes scanned over the tall trees surrounding you, the air was so cold that you could see it.

"Who-" Before you had a chance to ask, who or what had grabbed you, an arrow shot through the sky before the man - thing? - holding you hit the floor with a bang and you screamed, scrambling away from him.

"Shh, shhh." A second voice called out, arms wrapping around you before a hand was placed over your mouth and you struggled against the grip until you heard it, more people talking in hushed tones.

"She sent us to find the mortal so we're not going to fail our Queen," Whoever was holding you scoffed but kept you pressed against them, your eyes wide as you listened more.

"This must not be where the portal is. Damn him, always giving us the wrong coordinates," The footsteps retreated as did the person's grip on you and you scrambled away, turning to face whoever had been holding you.

You felt a jolt of recognition as if you had seen him before but you were almost certain you'd remember someone so beautiful. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. The man was tall and broad, his ears pointed as you stared at him he was breathtakingly beautiful, with sharp, elegant features and hair that seemed to shimmer like spun gold, even with glittery pieces through it. His presence was commanding, yet there was an air of melancholy about him.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," He whispered without thinking but you stared at him, your eyes narrowing as you tried to figure out who he was.

"Who-" You barely had a chance to finish your question before the man rudely cut you off,

"You shouldn't be here," Was all he had said, his voice smooth but laced with an edge of irritation at the idea of you being there with him and you felt your ego take a hit. It wasn't as though you'd been asked to be dragged through the damn portal.

"I—I didn't mean to intrude," You stammered, feeling strangely self-conscious under his intense gaze, your eyes went over to the body on the floor but the men stepped in front of your view, blocking the dead body from your eyes.

"I was just walking my dog, and someone grabbed me." You uttered, looking around, the snow around you was making it hard to stay warm and your body was shivering thanks to only being dressed in shorts and a tank top. Your heart sank as you thought about Max back home, you hoped he'd run home since he knew the way but it didn't make the guilt weigh on you any less.

"That much is obvious," he replied curtly, his eyes flicking to your outfit briefly before returning to you, no expression written across his cold face. You suddenly felt yourself feeling self-conscious and you folded your arms across your chest to cover up yourself,

"This is no place for humans." You bristled at his tone but couldn't help being captivated by his ethereal beauty. The man was dressed in, he was wearing a crafted tunic that was a pale green colour with silver embroidery stitched through the fabric. Paired with some form-fitting trousers and a pair of sturdy boots fit for walking through the woods. Clasped around his neck was a dark cloak that looked warmer than what you felt right now.

"I didn't know. It’s not like there were any signs saying 'Keep Out'." You grumbled at him, having enough of his dark and broody attitude toward you. It wasn't as though you'd walked right in. His expression softened slightly, but his demeanour remained aloof.

"You need to leave. Now." He practically growled, his eyes darting around the forest in case anybody else was around and listening in to the conversation.

"You think I don't want that? My dog is left behind..." You hissed at him, looking around you before taking a cautious step closer to the man who had been holding you moments before.

"What is this place? Who are you?" You finally found the courage to ask and the man hesitated, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. Almost as though he seemed upset you hadn't known who he was.

"My name is Felix," he said finally, glancing at you and sighing a little. You were already here there was no use hiding what he was or what the place you were standing in was.

"And this is Eldoria, a realm not meant for your kind." His words were cut off, almost as though he wanted the conversation to end as much as quickly as possible

"Eldoria..." You echoed, the name feeling strangely familiar on your tongue. You couldn't help but think maybe you had read about it as a kid? Why did this place feel so familiar to you, why did he? Your eyes lingered on him once again, trying to figure out where this man had been before.

"I didn't mean to trespass, Felix. It's just... there's something about this place that feels like—"

"Like you belong?" he interrupted sharply, his eyes narrowing at you before a dry laugh left his throat and you couldn't help but feel your heart break at the laughter. He didn't need to be so harsh about it,

"You do not. Go back to where you came from. For your own safety." You wanted to say so much to him, you had so many questions but it was obvious he was not in the mood for any kind of games with you and you sighed.

"Whatever." You bit back at him, slowly walking to where you thought you'd been dragged through, your body shape was on the snow but the portal you'd come through was gone. You stared around waiting for something, any sign of it coming back but there was nothing there, not even evidence of it being in the way before.

"It's closed," Felix said flatly from behind you as if it was basic knowledge for you to know, your fists clenched at your sides. You had no idea what you'd done to make this guy hate you so much but clearly, he did. Irritation brewed inside of you,

"What do you mean it's closed? How do you expect me to leave if it's closed?" You asked, a mixture of frustration and desperation in your voice as you span around to face him. If it was closed how did he expect you to get home? Teleport? Felix stared at you coolly, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of sympathy making you frown a little. He'd never shown any kind of sympathy to you before, why start now?

Sighing a little he turned to look at you, his eyes staring into your soul as you felt your chest flutter. There was something about the brown in his eyes that felt so familiar to you, almost as though you'd stared into them before but couldn't quite place where.

"Portals to your world are rare and unpredictable. This one has sealed itself. Another exists, but it lies on the far side of the kingdom." Hearing this your shoulders slumped, how long was it going to take you to get back home? How were you even going to make it through the woods alone?

"How far is it?" You asked, looking at him and letting out a small sigh. You weren't sure how you were going to make it to the next portal but you weren't just going to stop.

"A several days' journey," Felix replied, his tone shortened. He stared down at you before clearing his throat, he knew there was barely a chance of you walking through the woods without being spotted and he knew he'd need to step in. Reluctantly.

"And it's dangerous. The realm is not safe for humans." You looked up at him, his expression was unreadable as you waited for any sign of him offering to take you.

If this place was so dangerous why was he here? Why had he been in the area when you'd fallen through, or rather had been dragged through?

"I don't have a choice, do I? I need to get home, since you're so adamant I shouldn't be here," Felix hesitated, his cold façade slipping for just a moment, a flicker or something else on his face as you stared at him. Realistically he knew that there was going to be no other way for you to get home, he knew he was your only hope but he needed to maintain distance.

"I will guide you," he said finally, swallowing a lump in his throat as he watched you closely looking for any sign of unease from you. He would need to find a way to get you through the Kingdom without being detected and your outfit was going to draw eyes to you, and the smell of you. Humans smelt incredible to certain creatures in the woods and it would take only a moment for something to catch you.

"But understand this: I am not doing this out of kindness. Your presence here is a threat to Eldoria, and the quicker you leave, the better." You frowned, feeling a pang of hurt at his harsh words.

"I get it. You don't like me or my kind. Let's just get this over with." You scoffed, tightening the bag around your shoulders and looking at him as he nodded his head.

"Good," Felix said curtly, turning to lead the way through the woods, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

"Stay close and do exactly as I say. There are many dangers in these woods, and you are ill-equipped to face them." You tried not to give him a snarky remark.

As you walked through the snow, you couldn't help but steal glances at Felix. Despite his cold demeanour, there was something about him that drew you in, something that felt inexplicably familiar. You wondered what secrets he was hiding behind that icy exterior but you shivered a little, gaining the attention from him and he felt his stomach sink at the thought of you getting sick out here.

"Why do you hate humans so much?" You questioned after a long stretch of silence. Felix stiffened sliding off his coat before wrapping it around your shoulders, telling himself it was only to mask your scent.

"It's not about hate," he said quietly, almost as though he didn't want to admit it to you but he knew it was going to be a long couple of days if he didn't admit the truth to you, or at least part of it.

"It's about survival. The presence of a human in Eldoria is dangerous. The queen - as she likes to call herself -, Morgath, will stop at nothing to destroy anyone who poses a threat to her power." Your heart skipped a beat, a threat? You barely knew how to walk without stumbling over your own feet. How could you ever be a threat to some Fae Queen?

"And do you...think I'm a threat? I'm a human I can't do anything" Your voice had trailed slightly and Felix glanced back at you, his eyes piercing into you before he held his hand up and shook his head needing this conversation to stop.

"Morgath has spies everywhere. If she learns of your existence, she will hunt you down and I can't describe the kind of things she will do to you." He looked ahead of him, there was a cottage coming up soon and he was hoping to find you something else to wear. Something to hide you and mask the stench of your human-ness.

"My hostility is a necessity, not a choice." He added you swallowed hard, realizing the gravity of the situation. You didn't feel like being tortured by someone because you were merely a human.

"I understand." You whispered, stepping closer to Felix as the two of you walked together. If it was that dangerous there then you were going to stick to him like glue.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a twilight glow over the snowy forest as you and Felix approached a secluded lodge. By now you were practically freezing to death as you clutched his jacket around you tighter, your knees feeling weak.

"We need to make a quick stop here," he said quietly, glancing around for any sign of someone else in the area but the place was clearly abandoned.

"You can't keep walking around smelling like a human. It's too risky." He said as he began to walk toward the lodge. Its wooden structure was nestled among the towering trees, ivy creeping up its walls making it look as though it belonged there in the woods. Felix halted, turning to you with a serious expression.

"And how exactly do I fix that?" You mumbled, sniffing yourself trying to figure out what made you smell different to him. The two of you weren't too different, in appearance maybe. Felix's cheeks coloured slightly at the sight of you cuddled into his jacket, a sight that both surprised and intrigued you.

"There's a lodge here that belongs to a Fae family I know." He looked over at the door, trying not to let the sadness overwhelm him as he took in the sight of the place.

"They aren't home right now. We can find you some clothes that will help mask your scent." You nodded, following him up the creaking steps to the lodge's front door, wondering why there had been such a glum expression masking his face. Felix produced a small, intricate key from his pocket and unlocked the door, gesturing for you to enter, his eyes casting a glance behind you as he locked the door.

Inside, the lodge was cosy and warmly lit by the soft glow of enchanted lanterns, Felix snapped his fingers before a fireplace in the middle of what looked to be a living room lit itself startling you a little. The air smelled of pine and lavender, a welcome contrast to the tension of your journey here. If you were home you'd curl up in front of the fire and sleep for the night.

"This way." He whispered, leading you to a small bedroom before opening the wardrobe. He rummaged through the clothes, occasionally glancing at you and then looking away quickly, his ears tinged pink at the sight of you looking around.

Your hands ran over the bed sheets as you wondered who might have lived here, it was a beautiful home.

"Did your friends go on vacation?" You quizzed, glancing back over at him as he pulled out a soft green gown and then reached for something else.

"Not quite, they'll be back though." It almost sounded as though he didn't believe it but before you could push him more on the subject he turned to face you.

"Here," he said, handing you the gown as well as a warm-looking shawl.

"This should fit you, Sharm and you are almost the same size." He uttered the woman's name and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy but you had no idea why. You had no claim to him. He didn't even like your kind.

You carefully took the dress, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment as he felt a jolt run through his skin. You noticed the way his breath hitched and smiled inwardly at him.

"Thank you. I'll, uh, change in the bathroom." You nodded behind you at the separate room and Felix nodded, stepping out of the room to give you some privacy.

As you changed, you couldn't help but marvel at the dress's quality. It felt cool and soothing against your skin, the material imbued with a faint, pleasant fragrance that seemed to blend perfectly with the forest's natural scent.

When you finally stepped out of the room, Felix was waiting in the small living area, pretending to study a map on the wall with his hands behind his back. He turned, his eyes widening slightly as he took in your appearance, he hadn't expected it to fit you so perfectly but the gown seemed as though it was made for you.

"You look... it fits well," he said, clearing his throat as he stopped the compliment from slipping from his lips.

"And it will help mask your scent." He finished, turning his attention back to the map, you slowly began to walk toward him, kneeling in front of the fire wanting to warm up a little before heading back into the snow.

"Not bad for stolen clothes. Do I smell sufficiently Fae now?" You laughed a little, sparing a glance at him and noticing the smile on his lips and a blush on his cheeks.

"Much better." His gaze was on you again as he took in your appearance, his eyes slowly drinking just how beautiful you looked in his world. Finally, he'd gotten a good look at you in a nice lightening and he couldn't help the way his heart skipped a beat. Clearing his throat he reminded himself of why you were here

"Now we just need to—"

"You didn't pick that dress just because it masks my scent, did you? You actually think it looks nice on me." You smirked noticing his glance from before, Felix's blush deepened, and he turned away slightly.

"It's practical. That's all." He said it so formally you almost would have believed him, you got up from the floor and laughed a little, stepping closer to him.

"You know, for someone who's supposed to dislike humans, you're being awfully considerate. Taking me home, giving me clothes. You could easily hand me over to Morgath and be done with it,"

"No!" He yelled, the lanterns practically shaking as you stared at him, shocked that he'd been a little loud and stern with you.

"What-"

"I have my reasons for getting you home," Felix replied, his tone softer than before. He met your gaze, and for a moment, the tension between you seemed to dissolve.

"This isn't easy for me, either. But keeping you safe is important. If I'm caught with you it would very much mean my head on a spike, something I do not need to happen." Something that no one in Eldoria needed to happen, he was the one thing standing in Morgath's way of gaining full power. With him around there was still a slim chance he could take back his throne.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the thought of him keeping you safe.

"I appreciate it, Felix. Really." Felix nodded, averting his eyes once again.

"Have you warmed up enough?" He questioned, gesturing back to the fire that was burning hot behind you, your body had warmed up quickly thanks to him but you nodded a little.

"We should get going. The lodge won't be safe for long." As you wrapped the shawl around your arms you looked at him, unable to resist a small quip at him.

"You know, if you keep being this nice, I might start thinking you don't hate me after all." You teased, but Felix paused with his hand on the door handle, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Don't get used to it." He said in a teasing manner, not being able to keep the smile on his lips from growing. You laughed, and for the first time since you'd gotten to Eldoria, you felt a flicker of hope and something else deep in your chest.

Despite the danger, despite Felix's cold exterior, you sensed that there was more to him than he let on and you were going to keep pressing him for information.

"So are you going to tell me more about this place or do I have to beg for tiny bits of information?" You asked with a giant smile, trying to catch up to him as he strolled through the woods, a deep laugh falling from his lips.

"What would you want to know?" He arched a brow, turning to look at you as he kept walking with you, your eyes never leaving his even though you had no idea where you were walking, it was as though your body just knew the route.

"What other creatures are there here? You're clearly Fae and I'm assuming the queen is?" You looked at him and then in front of you, Felix smiled to himself. He'd never really had someone in his Kingdom he had to explain anything to before and it filled him with a small bit of excitement and he knew he couldn't be silent on your trip. Besides the way your eyes lit up as you questioned him only filled him with more eagerness to fill you with information.

"There are many things here, different kinds of Fae. The Queen is..." He stops for a moment trying to think of the words to describe her.

"She was made Fae, human first though." He rolls his eyes,

"But someone took her and created her for Evil, not knowing it would ultimately be the death of him as Morgath overthrew him," He glanced at you, you were clearly still listening to every word,

"Damn, Karma is a bitch here too." A laugh fell from his lips once again.

"I suppose it is,"

"Isn't there anyone that could stop her? I mean, if no one wants her in power why doesn't anyone try to stop her?" If only it was that simple, people had been trying for almost two years but she was too powerful.

"She's queen, she has many followers who will do anything to see her succeed. Including killing any Human." He nodded to you and you bit your lip, remembering the Fae that had dragged you through to this world.

"Not everyone believes in her though, there are some... admittedly very few, that want her gone and people have been trying for a long time to throw her out of power." You nodded along with him, happy you were having any kind of conversation with him. As you walked you were about to step over a log when he reached for you, his arms enveloping you right away before pressing you to his chest, his heart racing so hard you could feel it. The two of you sat on the floor as he caught his breath,

"Traps," He whispers as he points down, a trip wire on the floor before angling your head up to see the giant net above it.

"Shit, t-thanks," You stuttered, turning to face him, his face inches away from yours as you let out a small and shaky breath. Your heart practically racing but not from the trap, from being so close to him.

"Anytime," He breathed out, his eyes lingering on your face fluttering down to your lips before looking you back in your eyes.

"Felix..." You whispered, almost as though you didn't want to talk or ruin the moment, whatever kind of moment was happening between you. He inclined his head closer and you almost touched lips when a twig snapped and he turned to see what it was.

"We should move," He rushed out, carefully getting to his feet and holding out his hand for you. You stood up, your chest crashing into his as you both stared at one another again, neither of you making an attempt to move from the spot you were in.

"Yn." He breathed out, his hand running over your cheek as you felt your heart flutter, your mind completely ignoring the fact that you had yet to mention your name to him.

"Am I going to forget everything once I'm home?" You couldn't stomach the thought of it. You were almost scared to remember it, knowing what was out there but never going to be close to it again but part of you never wanted to forget the way he was making you feel. A flicker of something you couldn't read ran across his face before he put some distance between you, clearing his throat.

"I'm not sure." He mumbled, going back to cold silence as you made your way through the forest, being extra careful of where you were looking in case of traps.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale glow over the forest as you and Felix trudged through the snow once again. The night had grown colder, the chill seeping into your bones as fatigue began to overtake you. Felix had underestimated how cold you were going to get since it hadn't really affected him all that much and he felt guilt crushing him. The two of you had been travelling for hours, the path growing steeper and more treacherous. He'd been trying to make the trip as quick as possible trying not to get caught with you. He needed to get you out of there as quickly as possible.

Felix glimpsed at you, noticing your slow pace and the way you stumbled over roots and rocks. Your breath came in laboured gasps and you could barely keep your eyes open as yawns escaped you. He could see you were nearing your limit and he needed to do something about it. There was no way you'd made another hour on foot.

“Yn,” he said, stopping and turning to you as much as he didn't want to stop he didn't really have much of a choice when it came to how tired you were.

“We need to find shelter.” You shook your head stubbornly, adamant that you could continue without needing a break.

“I can keep going. We have to keep moving.” Felix sighed, stepping closer to you, clearly, you were too tired.

“You’re exhausted. We won’t make it far if you collapse.” Before you could protest, your legs gave out beneath you, and you fell to your knees, hissing out in pain. Felix was by your side in an instant, his strong arms lifting you effortlessly as he stared down at you.

“Felix, I’m fine,” You grumbled, though your eyelids were heavy with sleep, you didn't want to stop not when he hadn't shown any signs of getting tired yet.

“Clearly,” he replied dryly, shifting your weight to carry you more comfortably, your body was tense in his arms and he breathed into your ear.

“Just rest. We’re almost there.” You nodded a little, your eyes slowly becoming too heavy for you to keep open but you didn't want to stop. Part of you worried you'd fall asleep and never see him again.

"What if this is just a dream and I never see you again?" He chuckled softly at your innocence,

"You'll see me when you open your beautiful eyes in the morning." He let out a low laugh and you snuggled against him, a yawn taking over you.

"Another compliment? I should feel honoured," You breathed,

"Go to sleep, Yn," He urged, you whined at him and shook your head.

"Felix..." You trailed a little, he'd said your name twice now but you'd never even told him it,

"Hmm?" He asked dryly, his eyes forward as he navigated his woods, his eyes straight ahead as he tried to make his way with you in his arms.

"I never told you my name." You whispered before your head lolled against his shoulder as he continued through the forest, his body tense as he realised he'd said your name and hadn't meant to.

Felix moved swiftly but carefully, his keen eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger, he needed to get you out of there sooner rather than later, he'd already let too much go.

After what felt like an eternity, the two of you arrived at a small, secluded lodge nestled among the trees. Warm light spilt from the windows, and Felix approached the door, knocking softly, or attempting to with you nestled in his arms. Your head snuggled closer to him as you let out a small whine at the sudden movement.

A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing an elderly Fae woman, her eyes scanning over Felix before she gasped, her eyes widened in surprise and then softened in recognition.

“Prince Felix,” she whispered, stepping aside to let him in, her eyes scanning over your sleeping frame as she stared at the sight of Felix.

“Come quickly. We’ll keep your presence secret.” She told him, bolting the door shut and blowing out the light that let people know there was a lodging available inside.

This had been one of the many places Felix could come and still feel a little control over his Kingdom, Mary was one of the few people left in his world who cared he was the true owner of the throne.

Felix nodded his thanks and carried you inside of a small room. The lodge was cosy, with a fire crackling in the hearth and the smell of fresh bread wafting through the air. Two other Fae, a middle-aged couple, looked up from their seats by the fire, their expressions turning to concern as they saw their Prince carrying a person in his arms.

“We need a place for her to rest,” Felix said quietly, his eyes glancing down at you as he took in your sleeping appearance. You appeared so peaceful in his arms and he hated how perfect you seemed to mould against him.

“Of course,” Mary woman replied, leading him to a small bedroom at the back of the lodge. She pulled back the covers on a neatly made bed, and Felix gently laid you down, pulling the blanket over you and gently running his hand over your cheek, his heart racing as he stared at you. You stirred slightly but didn’t wake, your eyebrows scrunching together at the sensation of Felix being gone and he smiled weakly to himself.

“Thank you,” Felix said, stepping back and watching you for a moment before returning to the main room where the Fae who had been watching waited for an explanation.

They motioned for Felix to sit by the fire, offering him a cup of warm tea, which he accepted gratefully, sipping on the liquid and sighing to himself. He knew that they were going to have questions, anyone would.

“Who is she?” the middle-aged man asked, his voice hushed, almost as though he was scared one of Morgaths spies was around ready to pounce.

“She’s a human,” Felix replied. “She stumbled into Eldoria. I’m helping her find a way back.” The elderly woman shook her head, he already knew what they were going to say to him and he wasn't ready to admit it to himself.

“She’s not just any human, Felix. We can all sense it. She could be the one to save us.” Felix’s expression hardened, there was no way he was going to put you in that kind of Danger. There was no way he was going to subject you to that kind of torture.

“Don’t speak of that. She’s not here to fulfil any prophecy. She’s just a girl who got lost.” He hissed out, apologising for his outburst and sighing. The elderly couple left the room as Mary narrowed her eyes at him, she'd always managed to speak freely to him.

“But Felix,” She insisted, her eyes earnest as she ran her hands over his shoulder, rubbing softly.

“The prophecy speaks of a human who will break the curse. You know this.” Of course, he knew it. The damn thing had been drilled into his mind from the moment Morgath had taken the throne from his father but the Prophecy had been much older than that, older than any Fae that Felix had encountered.

In the ancient annals of Eldoria, written in the language of the Fae and etched into the sacred stone of the Elder Tree, there exists a prophecy that has been passed down through generations. It speaks of a time when darkness would fall upon the land, and a saviour from another world would emerge to restore light and harmony.

It had all been something told to children to make them sleep at night, Morgath was nothing but a nightmare until it all finally came true.

"She could be the one and you know it, you already feel it." She mumbled to him and it was true but Felix stood abruptly, his jaw clenched. He'd known it from the moment he'd seen you standing there that you were the one to fix everything but he wasn't going to put you through that. The second he'd locked eyes with you he remembered you, he'd always had fleeting visions of you, his soulmate. The visions had become more vivid as of late and he knew it was because you were closer to one another than before.

But you were human, you were breakable and would grow old. Felix was doing this for your own good, you deserved to be with someone of your own kind. The moon goddess had made a mistake making you mates.

“I won’t let her be used. She deserves to be in her own world! We’re getting her home, nothing more.” The room fell silent, the fire flickering as he shook his head. Felix turned away, staring into the fire, his thoughts a tangled mess of duty and protectiveness. He couldn’t deny the possibility that you might be the one the prophecy spoke of, but he also couldn’t bear the thought of you being thrust into such danger.

Mary placed a hand on his arm and smiled weakly, running her hand up and down his arm.

“We understand, Felix. We’ll help you both as best we can. But remember, sometimes destiny finds us, even when we try to avoid it.”

Felix nodded, though his resolve remained firm. He wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Not if he could help it.

"Don't forget while you're protecting her...You're also pushing away your own happiness." She whispered before disappearing into her own room, leaving Felix to stare into the flames.

The first light of dawn filtered through the small window of the lodge, casting a gentle glow over the room and you stirred, slowly waking to the comforting warmth of the bed and the smell of something delicious cooking nearby. You sat up, blinking away the remnants of sleep, looking at the small room you'd slept in and smiling to yourself that this all hadn't been a dream and you still had some time with Felix.

"Good morning," A woman said kindly, her eyes crinkling with a warm smile when you finally emerged out of the room. Your eyes danced around the kitchen she was in and she looked at you, almost as though she was in awe of you.

"I hope you slept well." You nodded, stretching your sore muscles.

"I did, thank you. Everything smells wonderful." You whined as you took in a deep breath to get another sniff making the lady chuckle softly, ladling a fragrant stew into a bowl bringing it over to you and leading you toward a table.

"Eat up. You need your strength." She told you, rubbing your back softly as you accepted the bowl gratefully, the warmth of the stew seeping into your hands.

"Is Felix here?" You asked as you took a cautious sip, savouring the rich flavours. Mary smirked to herself at you already asking about him. It was clear to her that you cared for him already and even if you hadn't realised you were soulmates something inside of you felt attached to him.

"He went to scout for the morning, I think he wanted to check nothing would happen to you both on the walk today," She smiles, sitting across from you and taking out a knitting needle before knitting while sitting there.

"Oh. Did he eat?" You asked softly, your eyes never leaving the bowl of stew in your hands as you slowly lifted another spoonful to your lips and carefully ate.

"You care that much already?" She smirked and you felt your body heat in embarrassment as you went back to eating in silence, Mary stilled and leaned forward.

"Don't worry dear. I made sure he ate and I've packed you both a lunch as well." She told you while stroking her hand over yours and you nodded a little,

"You're very sweet." The woman waved a hand dismissively, she'd been working this Inn for a long time this was something that was completely second nature to her at this point.

"It's nothing, dear. We're happy to help a friend of Prince Felix." Your food caught in your throat at the mention of him being a prince but she gave you nothing else on that.

As you ate, you couldn't help but notice the woman's eyes occasionally flickering to you with an expression of curiosity and something else—something that looked almost like reverence.

"Is something wrong?" You finally asked, lowering your spoon. The woman hesitated, looking around to make sure Felix wasn't around before clearly choosing her words carefully.

"It's just... unusual to see a human in Eldoria. Especially one who arrived the way you did." You frowned a little, surely there had been stories of other humans coming into the world.

"What do you mean?" You laughed awkwardly and she sighed, sitting down opposite you again and holding your hands in hers, nervously glancing around to make sure the cost was clear.

"There are old stories, prophecies really, about a human who would come to our land and—"

"Mary, that’s enough," Felix's voice interrupted sharply from the doorway, your heart picked up as you glanced over at him. He stepped into the room, his expression stern and cold like the one from the forest the day before.

Mary glanced at him and then back at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of apology and caution as she realised how scared you looked now.

"I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to alarm you." She breathed out, walking into the kitchen as Felix approached, his gaze locking onto yours.

"We need to leave soon. The longer we stay in one place, the greater the risk." He mentioned, glaring over at Mary who was now avoiding his gaze at all costs. You looked between Felix and Mary, sensing there was much being left unsaid and you hated the thought of being left out.

"Felix, what is she talking about? What prophecy?" You questioned, standing up from your chair and looking at him but he avoided your gaze, shaking his head as he went to collect the bag Mary had prepared for you both. Filled with food and things for the road you might need.

"Lix." You breathed out, the nickname slipping from your mouth as though it was second nature and Felix's body froze, slowly turning to look at you, his expression softened slightly, but his tone remained firm.

"It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with right now. Our focus is getting you back to your world safely." Mary stood, her hands wringing together as she studied you closely, she knew Felix would never harm her for speaking the truth but he was a friend and she didn't want to lose him as such.

"Just know, Yn, that you are special. More special than you realize." Felix shot Mary a warning look but didn’t say anything further. Your curiosity burned, but you knew pushing Felix would get you nowhere, right now at least. Maybe you could pester him more on the road since you'd have nothing else to talk about but right now it was clear he wasn't going to move on the matter.

"Thank you for the meal and a place to sleep." You said to Mary, finishing the last of your stew before bringing her the empty bowl, she took it from you, placing it down as Felix made his way to the doorway.

"Let's go." He urged impatiently but Mary wrapped her arms around you, taking in a deep breath and you hugged her back.

"Stay safe, child. Keep him on his toes," She whispered to you. As you were about to pull away she tightened her grip.

"Trust your gut." Was all she said before Felix gently took your arm in his, guiding you toward the door.

"We need to keep moving. There’s still a long journey ahead." You spared a glance over your shoulder at Mary who looked away and sighed.

As you both stepped out into the morning light, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were a part of something much larger than you understood. The weight of Mary's words lingered in your mind, a puzzle you were determined to solve.

"Did you sleep last night? Do fae even sleep?" You asked, rambling a little as the two of you stepped into the woods again, a chuckle left Felix.

"I think I preferred you sleeping, much less questions being sent my way," You playfully glared at him and looked down at the snow that hadn't even melted despite the sun burning above you both.

"Yes I slept, I sleep just like you." He explained, holding your hand as he helped you cross over a log, his hand lingering in your embrace as the two of you walked together.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep," You uttered, you hated that you'd slept in his arms but it had been the best sleep you'd had in the longest time.

"Don't be, you're human, you tire easily. I should have expected it," Felix hadn't meant for the way it had sounded, so harsh and as if he looked down on you for growing tired.

"Why does the snow never melt?" You asked, trying to break the awkward tension between you and Felix raised an eyebrow.

"It seems your sleep has refuelled your brain then." He teased softly and you stared at him,

"I can ask about the world or I can ask about the prophecy, your choice." At the mention of the prophecy, you noticed his throat bob nervously and he let out a deep breath.

"The snow is a present from Morgath, an eternal winter she called it," He rolled his eyes a little. The woman had always had a flare for the dramatics.

"And how did she become Queen...seeing as you're the prince." You tread carefully around the topic. Mary had let the words slip this morning and you hadn't known how to bring it up to him.

"Mary let that slip did she?" He cocked his eyebrow while shaking his head. Mary had always been crafty when it came to him, he knew he should have stayed with you that morning to make sure nothing was mentioned about the prophecy, he was just glad Mary had neglected the soulmate part of the discussion.

"An accident I'm sure." You smirked, biting on the inside of your cheek as Felix rolled his eyes,

"Hmm, I'm sure." He muttered not sounding entirely convinced of the fact. Mary knew how to play people and she was playing both of you perfectly together.

"She married my father, who mysteriously died a short months later ready for her to take over."

"But surely the crown would fall to you?" Maybe it was different here but usually, a queen would never rule alone.

"We tried that, but Morgath was power-hungry. Demanded that she get the thorne only it hasn't exactly worked in her favour." He laughed softly as though he was in on a joke you hadn't known and you frowned a little,

"Meaning?" He stopped walking and held you in place, standing behind you and placing his hands on your shoulder. Your body stilled in his, relaxing a little from his touch as he leaned down toward your ear,

"Watch those trees," He whispers in your ear, your skin heating from the contact as you let out a breathy sigh. You stared over at them, waiting for something, anything, to happen but as you were about to turn and speak to Felix you saw it.

The tree slowly parted ways and sunlight was bleeding through, not an inch of snow below it, all of it beautiful lush grass and wildflowers.

"I'm the heir, the rightful heir to the throne and the kingdom knows it. It's why it still bends to my will, why some of her people fear me." You turned to stare at him, your eyes scanning his face as he smiled down at you, his fingers brushing over your cheeks to remove some of the snow that had fallen on your skin.

"She's been trying to kill me ever since," Your eyes darkened and he could have sworn he saw a flash of red in them before it faded. Your anger boiled deep inside of you at the thought of someone ever harming him.

"Why?" Your voice shook as you stared at him, your eyes brimming with tears at the thought of anything ever happening to him and Felix felt his heart clench. He was already revealing too much to you.

"She'll finally have the Kingdom at her will, she'll be able to do whatever it is she wants," He whispered, his hand gently cupping your face in his as he went to wipe away a fallen tear, you placed your hand atop of his stopping his action in place.

"And the prophecy...it'll stop her?" Felix's hand dropped from your face and he turned away from you, the trees moulding back together to hide the sunlight.

"The prophecy is a story, fictional. Made up by the people of this Kingdom who are scared." He grumbled, walking ahead of you and forcing you to catch up to him.

"If it's just a story why won't you tell me it?" You grunted as you tried to keep up with him, Felix only slowing down as he realised how far behind you were from him.

"I don't wish to bore you." He deflected quickly,

"We've got nothing else to talk about so unless you want to walk in absolute silence-" Your breath caught as Felix spun around, pressing your back up against a tree as he leaned down close to you. His face inches away from yours as his eyes bore into yours,

"Lix?" His finger lifted to your lips and she shook his head, his eyes on you but his mind clearly somewhere else as he listened to what was going on behind him.

"Morgath said she can sense it, the filthy thing is here somewhere." A voice cried out, it was navely and high pitched and you could have sworn you saw Felix shiver as he stared down at you.

"Be quiet," He whispered before disappearing right before your eyes, you reached out to touch him and he was still there. His hands held yours tightly as you watched two creatures stalk by you.

One was a wolf, the size of a bear as he sniffed around, stopping and staring in your direction. Felix could feel your heart racing and he pressed himself closer to you, your heart stilling as you waited for the wolf to pass.

"You find something?" The navily voice asked as the second creature turned to see what the wolf was staring at but it let out a growl before continuing away from you and Felix and in the direction of Mary's lodge.

Once Felix revealed himself and you, he wasted no time in grabbing your hand and quickly pulling you through the forest, his eyes focused in front of him.

The encounter had only hammered it in harder that he needed you out of there, that no prophecy about a human breaking the curse was going to be worth losing you if Morgath or any of her minions found you here. He wasn't going to let a single thing happen to you.

"Lix, please." You pleaded with him, your breathing becoming erratic as you tried to keep up with him without tiring yourself out. The nickname sent shivers down his spine as he was thrust into the memories of dreams about you. The two of you. Except they couldn't be true, you needed to be out of here before you were killed.

"We can't stop, you have to get home."

"Please...I-I just need a minute." You cried out before he finally stopped, taking you through a secluded area and sitting you down on a log, his face pale as he stared around.

"Why are they so adamant to find me?" You questioned, staring at him as you slowly caught your breath once again.

"I told you, it doesn't concern you-"

"I'm telling you! I want to know considering if they find me I'm dead, I'm pretty sure it damn well concerns me," He was slightly taken back by your boldness and he smirked a little, he should have known his soulmate would be able to hold their own when the time came. Taking in a deep breath he looked at you, he knew if you were anything like him you were going to be stubborn enough never to give in.

"It's a story we were told as kids, okay? Don't think about it too much." He told you before sighing,

"When shadows stretch across the Fae lands, And the queen of darkness takes her stand, A foreign soul, pure and bright, Shall cross the veil in the dead of night. From realms afar, where mortals dwell,

A human heart will break the spell, Bound by fate to a prince of old,

Their union is forged in stories told. Through trials dire and love concealed, The truth within shall be revealed, With courage strong and sacrifice, The cursed land shall pay the price. The kiss of life, with power untold, Will shatter chains and darkness fold, As light returns to Fae once more, The saviour’s heart shall love restored. In unity, both worlds shall see, A future bright, where all are free,."

"That's it?" You stared at him, you had to admit you'd been expecting more ever since you'd learnt about it that morning. It sounded more like a riddle than a prophecy someone was supposed to uphold.

"I told you, it's a fictional piece told to us as kids." He rolled his eyes a little and you stilled, staring at him with an arched brow.

"So fictional the Queen of Darkness happens to be real?" You slowly raised from the log you had been sitting on and Felix scoffed, shrugging his shoulders and turning to face the way you needed to go.

"A coincidence." He uttered harshly at you.

"Lix." You breathed out but he was already gone, walking ahead and trying to forget the way his nickname sounded on your lips

The two of you walked in silence for what felt like hours but the sun was still high in the sky when Felix decided to make a camp, parting the trees once again before pulling you inside and letting them shut around you both. It was spacious enough for you to rest and for Felix to get food out,

"I didn't mean to upset you," You finally whispered, your eyes watching him as he shook his head,

"You have nothing to be sorry for, I just want to get you home. I don't want anything to happen to you." He whispered, his back to you as he got the food out that Mary had prepared for the two of you. You needed food before the two of you continued on but he was rationing it so you could get another two meals out of it at least.

"But if I can help...I will." You pushed him on it and his fingers clenched around the flask he was holding,

"The risk isn't worth the cost, you need to go home where you can be safe."

"But-"

"Please," He turned to look at you, kneeling in front of you as you finally noticed tears in his eyes. Your hands slowly moved to cup his face in your hands and you slowly ran your hand over his cheeks. As long as he'd been yearning to feel your touch on him he didn't want to risk anyone finding you killing you for their own sick pleasure and destroying him in the process. He'd never recover if he lost you.

Knowing you were in the human world would be torture but not as much torture as it would be to lose you completely.

"Okay...I'll leave," You whispered, smiling weakly as you let him go, his back to you once again as he finished preparing you some food, both of you falling into an uneasy silence once more.

Your mind going back to the prophecy, if you could help him you wanted to do everything in your power to do it.

The sun had once again set, and the forest was bathed in the silver light of the rising moon, Felix could see how tired you were getting and he sighed to himself. It was one night of rest and the two of you could be at the next portal by the next afternoon if he was lucky enough not to run into any more trouble. He cast you a nervous glance, you'd been quiet ever since lunch and it worried him, if this was all the time he was going to get with you he wanted to spend it talking to you.

"Soon you'll see Max," He offered a small smile but you nodded at him, glancing over at him and smiling weakly.

"He probably ran home, my neighbours probably watching him." You whispered, wondering if you were going to go back to a bombarded questioning about where you'd been.

"Time works differently here," He admits to you, it was probably something he should have mentioned when you first arrived but between saving your life and seeing you in person it had thrown him through a loop.

"You'll go back to find it's only been about four hours missing," You stared at him and nodded a little, too tired to question him more on it and he hated it. He wanted to hear you say something, anything, even if it was a snarky remark about him, anything.

"Yn...Are you tired?" He asked, his voice full of concern as he stepped in time beside you. You refused to look at him, staring straight ahead as your eyes grew heavy.

"A little but I can keep going if we're close."

"We're not." He answered quickly, a little too quickly but if you'd noticed you didn't let on that you had and he smiled.

"There's a clearing just up ahead with an abandoned cabin, we can spend the night in there." He told you as he carefully brushed his hand with yours, taking it into his grasp and walking with you off the main path.

You emerged into a small clearing, where a secluded cabin stood hidden among the trees. Its stone walls were covered in moss, and the roof was partially obscured by overhanging branches but even from where you were standing you could see it was falling apart.

“We’ll rest here for the night,” Felix said, pushing open the creaky door and letting you inside.

“It’s an old hideout we can use. We’ll leave at first light.” He told you as you nodded, stepping inside and immediately noticing the double bed against one wall and a fireplace on the other. It was more of a bedroom than a cabin and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of one bed.

“Where are you going to sleep?" Felix followed your gaze, his expression remaining impassive though a faint flush coloured his cheeks.

“I’ll take the floor,” he replied curtly, not wanting to put you in distress at the thought of sharing a bed, besides, he wasn't sure that if he slept beside you he'd be able to hold back his feelings anymore.

“You need the rest more than I do.” You frowned, feeling a pang of guilt at the thought of him on the cold and hard floor after everything he had done for you.

“You don’t have to do that. We can share the bed. It’s big enough.” You stepped closer to it and Felix looked at you,

"Fine, but stay on your side," He pointed a look at you and you couldn't help but smile at his serious tone.

"Deal. But there isn't any-" Before you could mention the lack of pillows or anything to keep you warm a bright light flashed in the room before it was engulfed in a warm light, the sound of the fire crackling behind you both.

"Fit for a prince," You giggled noticing the bed was now covered in pillows and sheets to keep you warm through the winter night.

After eating you lay on the bed, stiffly side by side as you listened to the fire cracking on the other side of the room.

"Thank you for helping me, Felix." Felix glanced at you, his eyes softened by the flickering flames as he stared at you.

“I’m doing what’s necessary. Keeping you safe is important—for Eldoria and for you.” You smiled gently, sensing the weight of unspoken words in his tone but not pressing him any more than you had today. Right now you were just glad the two of you were speaking again, it had been your own kind of hell not speaking all afternoon.

“Still, I appreciate it. You’re not as cold as you pretend to be.” Felix’s lips twitched in what might have been a suppressed smile.

“Don’t get too comfortable. We’re not out of danger yet...We've still got a trip tomorrow,” He whispered as you yawned, your eyes slowly shutting as you nodded,

“I know,” You replied softly, your eyes slowly opening to find him again.

“But I’m glad I’m not alone in this.” For a moment, silence fell between you, filled only by the sounds of the crackling fire and the distant hoot of an owl. You shifted, trying to get comfortable on the bed, your leg brushing against Felix’s. You froze, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of your clothes.

“Sorry,” You murmured, starting to pull away. Felix’s hand gently caught yours, holding you in place, enjoying the feeling of being close to you, even if only for a night.

“It’s alright,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his heart getting the better of his mind as he shuffled closer to you on the bed.

“Get some rest. We have a long journey ahead.” Your heart raced at the unexpected contact, but you nodded, settling back into the bed. Felix released your hand and turned onto his side, his back to you, though you could still feel the tension in his body from the contact the two of you had shared however brief.

“Goodnight, Lix,” You whispered, closing your eyes for the final time that night, too tired to open them again.

“Goodnight, Yn,” he replied softly. As you both lay there, the boundary between you slowly dissolved as you both sank into a deep slumber, Felix's body moving on its own as he wrapped himself around you pulling you flush against his chest. His own body gave in to the fact that you were there even if for a short while before you returned home.

While the two of you slept you'd not noticed that someone had followed you deep off the trail and watched the house while you slept, waiting to pounce.

The morning sun peeked through the holes in the ceiling, waking you up as you enjoyed the feeling of being in his arms, leaving your eyes shut for as long as possible. Both of you knowing the other was awake but neither making an attempt to move or start your journey together,

"I don't want to go," You finally whispered as Felix tensed from behind you. If he was a selfish man he would have begged you to stay, if he was the King he would have begged you to help but he needed you to go home. He needed you to be safe.

"You must," He whispered, his arms leaving you as he got up, straightening his outfit before snapping his fingers to remove everything he'd bought with him in the night. The sheets and pillows disappear in seconds and you rise from the comforts of the bed.

There was a certain tranquillity in the air as the two of you began your walk that morning, a quiet anticipation that neither of you dared to break with words. Felix walked a little slower than usual, his steps deliberate, as if savouring every moment of your time together.

You noticed his uncharacteristic pace but chose not to comment on it. Instead, you walked beside him, your fingers brushing against one another, enjoying the silence and the unspoken bond that had grown between you.

As the two of you walked, neither of you noticed the snow melting behind you, leaving a trail of sunlight through the trees and wildflowers finally sprouting in the ground, almost as though the Kingdom was reacting to the two of you together.

You stole another glance at Felix, your heart saddening as you realised your time together was coming to an end rather quickly.

“Felix,” you said softly, your fingers wrapping around his own as he stilled,

"Is everything alright?" He looked at you his expression indistinct for a moment before he nodded, smiling weakly at you.

“Yes. Just... thinking.” In fact, he was in a heated debate with himself. His heart and his brain raging against one another fighting a way to keep you with him. You smiled gently, accepting his vague answer for now and continued walking together. Neither of you noticed the silent figure lurking in the shadows, watching your every move, too lost in your thoughts or one another to notice anything else.

As you finally reached a clearing, the shimmering portal to your world came into view, Max was waiting there with his tail high in the air, barking into the portal almost as though you'd only left minutes before, it's light ethereal and inviting. Your heart quickened, torn between relief at the sight of your way home and the sorrow of leaving Felix behind.

“We’re here,” Felix said, his voice tinged with a mix of emotions. You didn't move toward the portal, you merely stayed still looking at him and waiting for him to tell you to stay.

“Felix, I—” Before you could finish, a dark, monstrous figure lunged from the shadows, its claws grabbing Felix and pulling him away from you as you let out a scream. You reached out but Felix was ripped from your grasp, thrown to the ground by the creature's immense strength. The wolf from the day before was towering over him, pinning him to the ground.

“Felix!” You cried, rushing toward him. But the wolf growled turning his attention to you as it snarled, blood dripping from its mouth.

“Yn, run!” Felix shouted, his voice strained with effort. But you couldn’t leave him, you'd never leave him alone like that. Searching around you grabbed a fallen branch from the ground, wielding it like a weapon, and charged at the wolf. The beast swiped at you, knocking the branch from your hands, but you didn’t back down.

"Go!" Felix managed to breathe, if the wolf wasn't attacking you then there was a small chance no one knew you were human and you still had the chance to get out of there.

"GO!" He screamed out before the wolf stepped on his arm, the bone snapping as he screamed. The scream made your stomach drop and your heart shatter.

"YN GO!" He finally boomed out, staring at you with tears in his eyes but you shook your head. Suddenly, a blast of light hit the wolf, sending it stumbling back. Mary, the elderly Fae woman, emerged from the trees, her hands glowing with magic.

"Hurry, child!” She called out, prepared to save Felix the second you left but she could sense your hesitation and the look on your face as you took in the bloody sight of Felix.

“The portal won’t stay open forever!” You stared over at the portal and then back to Felix, The creature was recovering and quickly advancing on Felix again. Your resolve hardened and you shook your head, there was no way you were leaving, you didn't care how dangerous it was. You couldn’t leave him to face this alone.

"Yn." He warned as Mary held off the wolf, drawing it away from you as you stood Felix up from the floor, wrapping his one good arm around your shoulder.

"I'm not leaving you, Felix, I don't care," You grumbled, groaning as you shifted your body to accommodate Felix's weight.

"We need to get you somewhere safe, to heal." You whispered but as you began to walk you stilled. A woman stood there with fiery red hair and a sharp face stared down at you, an evil smile spread across her lips as she took in the sight of you both together,

"So, the prophecy unfolds," Morgath hissed, her voice dripping with venom as she stared you down, trying to intimidate you.

"The human girl and the Fae prince. How touching." You felt your blood run cold as Morgoth’s gaze locked onto you. Felix immediately stepped in front of you, his stance protective. It didn't matter that he was already wounded he wasn't about to let her lay a hand on you.

"Morgath," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

"You won’t touch her." He added as you reached for his hands, trying to steady him, he was in no position to fight

"Romantic...but very ill-advised my darling stepson." She smirked at him, laughing a little as the chilling sound echoed through the forest.

"You think you can protect her? You, whose power has been dimmed by my curse? How pathetic." With a flick of her wrist, Morgath summoned a dark, shimmering blade, its edges crackling with dark energy. She advanced towards you, her intent clear aiming to kill Felix and you shook your head.

"No!" You cried, trying to push Felix aside out of her way.

"I won’t let you hurt him!" You screamed, moving him out of the way but Felix was faster and stronger than you. As Morgath lunged with her blade aimed at you, Felix threw himself in front of you, taking the full force of the strike. The blade pierced his side, and he gasped in pain, collapsing to his knees.

"Felix!" You screamed your throat hoarse, dropping to his side as Morgath stepped back, a triumphant smile on her lips.

"Such noble sacrifice," Morgath sneered. "But futile. The human will never save Eldoria." She spat out as Felix pulled the blade from his side, hissing out in pain. You stared down at him, your eyes filled with tears as you cradled him in your arms. His face was drained of all colour, and his breathing was shallow.

"You have to go..." He whispered, his voice barely audible as he held onto your arms but you were applying pressure to his wound, refusing to leave his side for even a second.

"No," You sobbed, clutching him tighter as tears gushed down your cheeks.

"I won’t leave you. There has to be another way." You cried heavily but Felix shook his head at you, smiling weakly through his final breaths. Morgath watched with a mixture of amusement and annoyance at the scene unfolding before her.

"Your defiance is pointless. The prophecy is a lie. There is no saviour." Felix reached his hand up, cupping your face as tears fell down onto him and that was it.

A flash in your mind before everything became clear, all of the dreams you'd had ever since you came of age, a faceless man you'd never quite been able to picture in your mind but who would constantly visit you in your dreams. Images coming clearer of you and Felix together, spending time together in your dreams, he'd always been there. It was how he knew your name and how you'd slowly remember his nicknames. Your dreams had slowly been drifting back into your memory as you spent more time together.

Your heart ached with despair, but as you looked into Felix’s eyes, you felt a surge of determination as you stared down at him,

"I love you." He breathed out, blood trickling from his lips as Morgath began to laugh erratically, knowing she was close to getting everything she'd ever wanted but your mind went back to the day before. You remembered Felix's words, the prophecy, and the power you'd felt within you.

"I love you too," You whisper, looking at him as he frowns a little. With trembling hands, you leaned down and kissed Felix, your lips soft against his.

A brilliant light exploded from the point of contact, enveloping them both not letting anybody from the outside see in. Morgath shielded her eyes, stumbling back as the light grew brighter and brighter.

As you pulled away you stood from the floor, grasping the blade that had been the one to injure Felix and you turned your attention on Morgath who was stumbling, aiming her hands at you but nothing came of it.

"What's going on?!" She screeched, snow around her melting as you smirked a little as you realised what was happening. The kiss had been the one thing to break the curse.

"The prophecy," You whispered, realization dawning on you as you realised everything had been true.

"This changes nothing! I will destroy you too!" She cried out, snapping her fingers but nothing happened, the wolf and Mary emerged from the bushes behind you, her arm around the creature as it snarled in Morgath's direction.

Felix stepped forward, his hand still holding yours taking the blade from your grasp before kissing your cheek softly.

"No, Morgath. Your reign of terror ends now." He said through gritted teeth. With your combined strength, you faced Morgath together, as she scrambled to get away and sink back into whatever hole she'd crawled from. But it was too late The power of your bond, now fully awakened, surged through you both, creating a barrier of light that repelled Morgath’s dark magic.

You felt the energy within your response to Felix’s, your hearts and souls intertwined as your fingers found one another, your eyes never straying from the woman before you. As Morgath attacked, you countered, your combined power overwhelming her. With a final, desperate scream, Morgath was consumed by the light, her form disintegrating into nothingness.

As soon as everything had calmed, you heard the birds and other wildlife slowly begin to awaken and you slowly turned to Felix, your eyes searching his.

"Felix? Are you...?" You could barely finish your sentence, you felt him dying before, you felt him dying in your arms and you were almost sure it was over.

"I'm here, Yn. Thanks to you." He chuckles, running his hand over your cheek as Mary smirks at you both.

"The curse is broken. The land will heal, and so will our people."

Felix nodded his head as he stood beside you, your hands still intertwined. The portal still shimmered behind you both, but it no longer represented an escape. It was a choice, a path to a future the two of you could shape together if you wanted to try.

Now there was no threat to you he wanted you to stay, he needed you to stay after having you so long but if you wanted to go home he would never be the one to stop you.

"Yn," Felix said softly, his eyes locked on yours before flicking over to the portal, Max still waiting for you with his tail in the air.

"Whatever happens next, I want to face it with you." Your eyes dragged away from the portal and back at him,

"Your kingdom needs their king."

"And their queen," Mary spoke from the distance, earning a glare from Felix but you giggled at him running your hand over his cheek,

"She's right...If you want a Queen that is," He looked at you, he was ready for you to leave and hadn't stopped to think you would want to stay with him.

"You're my other half, Lix, I can't even dream of leaving you," You breathed out almost as though you'd been reading his mind and he wrapped himself around you, bringing you into another kiss.

This time there wasn't a flash of magic but you felt your body explode against his as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and pulled yourself closer to him. Butterflies erupted inside of you as fireworks went off.

"I love you, future Queen of Eldoria," He whispered, a bark separating you both as you turned to find Max wriggling in Mary's arms, jumping free and pouncing over to you both.

"I guess someone else wants a new life here too," Felix chuckled, kissing your cheek softly before you reached down for Max, cuddling him in your arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Epilgoue~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the ancient forest of Eldoria. In a secluded grove, a sacred ceremony was about to commence. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the trees seemed to hum with anticipation.

You stood in the centre of a circle of ancient stones, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness, Felix had explained all of this to you weeks before not wanting you to be scared but it still worried you a little. You wore a flowing gown of silver and green, crafted by the finest Fae artisans, its fabric shimmering like moonlight. Your eyes sparkled under the sunlight and you glanced a look at your mate who was holding your hand firmly in his own,

"Are you ready?" Felix asked, his voice gentle but filled with excitement. He'd been pushing off the ceremony for as long as he could, trying to make sure that you were truly ready for it. You nodded, your gaze unwavering from his as you smiled brightly.

"I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life." You giggled, earning a clap from Mary who had been watching the two of you. She stepped toward you both holding a crystal chalice which was filled with a glowing liquid, you eyed it up before nodding at her,

"By the power of the Elder Tree, by the light of the moon and stars, we gather here to witness the transformation of Yn, who has proven her heart and soul are one with the Fae." The grove filled with a soft, ethereal light as the incantation continued, Felix squeezed your hands, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You’re about to become one of us," he whispered, pride and love evident in his voice. Though he'd never forced you into it, you could see how excited he was for this. The two of you would age slowly together for many years to come. You smiled, a tear slipping down your cheek from how happy you were to spend the rest of forever with him.

"I’m ready, Felix. I want to spend eternity with you." Mary brightened her smile as she slowly handed the chalice to you.

"Drink, and let the magic of Eldoria flow through you." Carefully you lifted the chalice, feeling its warmth against your palms. Taking in a deep breath you gave Felix another smile before you drank, the elixir cool and sweet as it travelled down your throat.

As you finished, a radiant light enveloped you, lifting you off the ground, Felix's hand slowly left yours as he watched in awe as your transformation began. Your hair shimmered like spun silver, your eyes brightened with an otherworldly glow, and delicate, iridescent wings emerged from your back fluttering softly as you slowly floated back down to the ground with a graceful landing.

"How are you feeling?" Felix questioned as your wings continued to flutter, your eyes finding his as you stared at him. Everything was so much brighter...everything was just so much more. The lights were brighter, the sounds louder but nothing overwhelming and you could feel everything. You could feel the flowers growing beneath you and hear Felix's heart from where you stood.

"Felix, I feel... complete." You breathed out before he rushed into your arms, his wings unfurling to wrap around you both

"You’re more beautiful than ever," he murmured, kissing your forehead softly both of you forgetting those who had come to witness the ceremony.

The gathered Fae cheered, their voices a harmonious symphony celebrating the union of their prince and his beloved after so long. You and Felix turned to face them, your hands still intertwined, your love and unity shining brightly.

"I'm going to marry you under this tree," He whispered to you, just low enough for you to hear him and you giggled at him,

"Oh? And what if I decline?" You teased but he wrapped himself around you, dipping you lowly as he leaned in toward your lips.

"As if you would," He smirked, kissing you deeply as the fae around you erupted in cheers once again.

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fairyysoup · 1 month ago

Text

sever the blight

(steve's version) (repost)

pairing(s): werewolf!steve harrington x fem!aristocrat!reader

summary: Steve is your bodyguard. You are engaged to another man. It all seems very cut and dry until a fatal accident traps you alone with him on a full moon.

word count: 11.2k

cw: explicit, smut, monsterfucking!!!, loss of virginity, graphic depictions of violence, blood, gore, minor character death, animal death, horror elements, dark themes, historical au, fairy tale au, some sort of historical fantasy period, idk which one you tell me, forbidden romance, mutual pining, possessive behavior, misogynistic views on sex and marriage, animalistic behavior, marking, scenting, knotting, breeding kink, werewolf transformation, werewolf bites, again steve is a werewolf the reader is fucking a werewolf and all that entails, dead dove: do not eat

a/n: hiiiii this was originally posted in two separate parts, but as it was actually meant to be a one-shot when I started writing it, i've reposted it as one here. I'm sorry lol

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

"Fear and flee the wolf; for, worst of all, the wolf may be more than he seems." -Angela Carter, The Company of Wolves

“Please, don’t do this.”

The hum of crickets at twilight surrounds you as you step out of the inn, into warm summer air. The soft muslin of your underskirts turn heavy with the humidity, as you watch your governess, Miss Fontaine, charge ahead toward the carriage. Already prepared for your departure, the driver twitches his thumbs in anticipation.

You watch her turn to face the only other member of your traveling party with a perturbed sigh. “And lose more time? If we ride through the night we can make Kensworth by morning.”

You feel a heat on the back of your neck before you turn to see him emerge from the shadows, the deep green of his coat highlighting the little bit of jade in his hazel eyes. Steven. Steve. The huntsman. Your guard. You don’t know much about him, aside from that he’s from this region. He’d made his living as a huntsman before your father, favoring Steve for his discretion and propriety, hired him as a personal bodyguard. Your very own knight in shining armor, if you wanted to be romantic about it.

He’s the only man you’ve ever met who manages to make you nervous while simultaneously making you feel invariably safe. Like, as long as he’s around, you know that nothing will dare to hurt you. And nothing will make your heart race beneath your bodice quite the same as he does.

Still, months of his protection haven’t taught you anything about who he is, and it seems like he wants it that way. You know only the things that you’ve picked up by being around him- he prefers ale over wine, fiddles with his hair when he’s nervous, and he enjoys doing people favors. He has a goofy sense of humor. He’s kind, and gentle when he speaks.

Unless he’s arguing with your domineering governess. Like now, for instance.

“You don’t know these woods like I do,” he insists, his voice unnaturally low, nearly a growl as he looms over you on the doorstep of the inn. He stands too close to you, his eyes burning fire as he peers at Miss Fontaine, and then down at you, making your hands shake behind your skirts. His tone softens, “My lady, listen to me and wait for the night. Let the moon wane before we leave.”

You open and close your mouth, looking from Steve to Miss Fontaine. To his obvious annoyance, your governess is already shaking her head at you before he finishes talking. God, you wish you knew what to say to assuage them both. But, ultimately, the choice isn’t up to you. It never is.

“I can’t spare the time. The Duke will already be upset that I’m arriving late to my own wedding.” The words feel flat in your mouth, like a script written by someone else. Truly, you’re running late as it is, days late, all because an avalanche laid waste to the only route out of town, keeping you at your latest stop and delaying your journey beyond repair.

“Your fiancé won’t be happy to know you’re putting yourself at risk to make up for lost time.” Steve spits the word fiancé like a curse, like he’d rather not acknowledge the man’s existence at all. You let it slide; after all, you’re not particularly taken with the idea, either.

You haven’t met him- your fiancé. You know him even less than you know your faithful bodyguard. You only know his face from a painting you were gifted, and his name- not from any sort of correspondence, mind you, but because the betrothal is a big deal, considering he’s a duke. And that would make you, of a sort, a future duchess. Or so Miss Fontaine keeps reminding you.

She raises one petulant eyebrow, now, at your protector. “You’d have us force the Duke to wait at the altar?”

Steve’s eyes darken. “If he cares for the lady at all, he’ll be relieved to know that you did the pragmatic thing and waited to travel-”

“Don’t lecture me about pragmatism-”

“I’m trying to protect her!”

“Protect her, then!” Short of stamping your foot, there’s nothing you can do but stand by as they argue back and forth. “That is your job. Not presuming to call orders. You are a guard, not an advisor.”

Steve glowers at her, his big eyes glinting dangerously in the lamplight from the carriage. “You don’t know-”

“But you do, correct?” You stare up at Steve with wide eyes, while he cocks his head, looking at Miss Fontaine as if trying to find the best and fastest way to get rid of her. She snaps, “I’d expect a huntsman to know a thing or two about traveling in the woods at night.”

She doesn’t wait for his reply. She lifts her skirts and steps into the carriage without waiting for the driver’s hand, all but slamming the door behind her. That’s the end of that.

You move to follow her, but a hand brushes your own, behind your back. You nearly jump out of your own skin at the touch- your blood boils, and your stays grow heavy on your chest as your breath quickens. You rapidly turn to face him, before Miss Fontaine can look out the carriage window.

“Steven-”

“Miss, please, just listen to me.”

You’re struck by how soft Steve’s voice is when directed at you, compared to his snarling at Miss Fontaine. His hazel eyes are enough to make you melt, searching your face for understanding.

“The things that happen in these woods, on a full moon, it’s-” he drops his gaze to your clasped hands, and for a moment, you think he’s going to reach out and grab them. But he simply takes a deep breath, the red flush on his cheeks brightening as he looks back up to your face. His voice drops in register, so that only you can hear him say, “Please, honey, I’m begging- talk some sense to your governess. Going out there tonight, when the moon is full… it’s too dangerous. Believe me. Trust me.”

You take the opportunity to gaze up at him openly, like you’ve wanted to for all the months you’ve known him, but never got the chance to. It occurs to you to correct him on his impropriety, and to remind him that you’re betrothed. To a duke that you don’t want to marry.

You don’t correct him. Instead, you whisper, “I trust you, honey.” And when he blinks, his lashes kissing his cheeks like you so desperately want to, you add, “But you and I both know that if anyone actually listened to me, we wouldn’t be traveling at all. I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington. My hands are tied.”

Steve swallows, and you swear he looks like he’s going to cry, or do something desperate like drag you back inside with him. But he just nods, and when you turn to climb into the carriage, he nearly pushes the driver aside to offer you his hand, instead.

Your mind lingers on the touch of his hand even after you’ve settled into your seat, your fingers smoothing over your tingling palm distractedly. You watch through the window as Steve’s trousers tighten across his thighs when he mounts his horse. He gives the driver a furious look as the carriage kicks off.

And Miss Fontaine glares at you when you pretend you weren’t staring at the young huntsman.

“The Duke will be pleased to know that you’re doing everything you can to reach the destination promptly.”

You sigh, your elbow resting heavily against the windowsill of the carriage. The Duke, the Duke. Your future husband already has his clutches wrapped around you, squeezing until you can feel your ribs cracking and blood spilling from your mouth. Miss Fontaine seems to have no qualms about singing his praises for the entire duration of your midnight commute, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. You’ve never been able to sleep while traveling, the rocking of the carriage jostling you awake no matter how hard you try.

Your eyes fix outside, on the white mare keeping stride with the carriage. Steve’s face is partially lamplit from the lanterns beside the driver’s seat, a deep furrow to his brow as he stares off into the dark. He worries his bottom lip with his teeth, lost in thought.

You’d kill to know what’s going on inside his head. There have been times when you’ve thought of asking him what he thinks about this marriage- it’s entirely out of his place to voice his opinion, of course, but nights spent with him standing guard outside your bedchamber have made you curious. What he’s thinking, what he’s feeling, when your future is being decided for you. When you’re helpless to stop any of it, and the only thing he’s able to do is throw himself in front of any physical danger coming your way.

Your curiosity doesn’t form in a void, you know. You aren’t completely blind to his affections. Steve is protective of you to the point of possessiveness, always hovering close, intimidating anyone who so much as looks your way. Would-be suitors were chased off by your guard’s heavy, unblinking stare before the Duke wrote to your parents and asked for your hand. You think the only reason this marriage is happening at all is because your fiancé never had to be subject to Steve’s frightening scrutiny.

You don’t miss the way Steve brightens whenever you’re around, either. The way he smiles and indulges your conversation whenever he’s afforded it, going out of his way to make you laugh. Presenting you with bouquets of your favorite flowers, just because he saw them in the garden and knew you’d love them. He’s so sweet to you, and to no one else. At least, not in the same way. Not in a way that makes you doubt his affection for you, however subtle.

You wonder if he doubts your affection for him. You wonder if he can see it as easily as he can see a fawn meandering through the trees, in the path of one of his arrows. You’ve thought about it so often that it’s kept you up at night, when there’s no distraction that comes to make the thoughts of him disappear. When all you have are your own hands, and the knowledge of his presence just on the other side of your chamber door. If he listens very closely, Steve may be able to hear the wetness of your fingers as they slide between your legs, while you pretend that they’re his.

You wonder if he has heard it; there have been a few times when you weren’t certain, when he wouldn’t meet your eye in the morning after a particularly strong orgasm made you whimper a little too loudly. Maybe he knows, and he’s just more proper than you have the decency to be anymore.

But Steve couldn’t know about your dreams, when you’ve shut your eyes and fallen asleep - ones where your unconscious mind doesn’t fail to give you the closeness you crave from him. Ones where his forehead rests against yours lovingly, his breath ghosting across your lips as he rocks the bed with his thrusts. You aren’t making much noise in these dreams, but why would you, when the noises that he’s making are more beautiful than any you could come out with?

And what a pretty thing you are, whimpering Steve’s name as your hand scratches along the mattress to keep you anchored, the fingers of your other hand threaded in his hair, relief flooding your soul at being able to feel it in your grasp. You shiver, either from the intimacy of it or from the caresses of his tongue against your pulse, but it doesn’t make an ounce of a difference when you come apart on his cock, your head tilted back and exposing the column of your throat for his mouth as you thrash against him.

When his hips stutter, when he pulls you against his chest as the heat of his release blooms deep in your core, it’s with a groan of your true name onto your own tongue, to make sure you know how he’s made himself in the bed of your body. “You are mine now. My lady, not his. Never his.”

Waking from those dreams, after a while, hurts more than the idea of having them in the first place. Because you step out of your bedchamber to find Steve standing guard, smiling at you politely, properly, as the arbitrary rules that keep you apart dictate he should, and the cycle starts anew.

“Are you even listening?”

Your attention snaps back to Miss Fontaine, and her pinched, stony face. You were not, your mind tending to wander to him at the worst times. “I’m sorry?”

Miss Fontaine tsks, and you already know what’s coming. You take a deep breath in. “How do you expect to please a husband when you can’t even listen to me for more than a minute? Stop slouching, child.”

You straighten your spine even as you seethe. You’re a lady when it suits them to burden you with responsibility, and then you’re a child to be ordered around when you don’t please them. “I’m not a child.”

“Quite right, and you’re nearly too old to be a debutante. You’re well on your way to becoming a spinster if you don’t behave. Lord knows the Duke has his work cut out for him.”

It takes all your strength not to roll your eyes. Of course, you should be thankful that you’re being sold off like cattle to the highest bidder. No, the only bidder. It just so happens that he’s a higher ranking aristocrat than you. And, as Miss Fontaine loves to remind you, you should count yourself lucky that anyone showed interest in you at all.

Never mind that you could never have the one that matters most to you. He has to stand by and watch it happen.

Poor, stupid thing. You always want what you can’t have, don’t you?

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the carriage lurching to a stop, the calls of ‘whoa!’ from the driver reaching you through the carved wood of the cabin. Miss Fontaine sighs and moves to open the window latch before Steve’s hand slams down abruptly on the glass.

“Stay,” he snarls at her, his eyes seeming to glow from the inside with a reflective green. Your breath stutters in your chest when he looks at you. The reflective pale green of a nocturnal creature seems to encompass his pupils for just a moment. “Don’t leave the carriage.”

You watch him dismount his horse. You’re craning your neck to try to keep your eye on him out the window, when Miss Fontaine grumbles, “That boy needs to learn some manner-”

You gasp loudly when something lurches the carriage sideways. You grab onto the edge of the seat as it lurches again, keeping your balance as the carriage threatens to topple. Miss Fontaine shrieks, thrown sideways towards the door.

You hear the cries of the driver, just past the wooden walls of the cabin, and you don’t have to have much imagination to conclude what’s happening to him. Your heart plummets, immediately thinking of Steve, out there doing who knows what, with whatever it is that’s making the noise.

“What on earth-” Miss Fontaine grabs onto the door handle as soon as you hear an infernal growling coming from outside.

“Don’t leave the carriage!” You yell, just as she throws open the door to do exactly that.

With one final jolt, the carriage flips.

Breathe in. Breathe out. When you open your eyes, you don’t know how much time has passed, if any at all. You think you may have fainted in the commotion- your head doesn’t feel hurt, but your hip has been bruised. It smarts as you try to push yourself up, where your legs are crushed up against the wall of the carriage. Groggily, you turn your head, and scream.

Miss Fontaine’s unblinking, glassy eyes stare lifelessly back at you. Half of her body has been crushed beneath the toppled carriage, having fallen as she tried to leave the carriage. Blood oozes slowly from her hairline, down across her cooling forehead.

Heaving unmeasured breaths, you raise your hand and push her face away from you. Her head bobs limply to the other side. You don’t want her staring at you still, in death, with that judgemental sneer etched on her face.

With a sob stuck in your throat, you turn your head and stare up at the window above you in the capsized carriage. You manage to sit up and unlatch the door above you, throwing it open like a trap door. Heaving yourself up through the opening is another challenge- even though your summer dress is comparatively light, pulling your skirts upwards and over the edge is difficult, and you end up barrel-rolling out of the opening more than anything.

You come crashing down on the opposite side of the carriage wall, the wheels bracketing you where you sit. The lanterns on the driver’s end have broken, oil pooling and creating a fire that’s rapidly growing the longer it sits. Beside you, Miss Fontaine’s legs stick out comically from beneath the structure like a pair of sticks. You reach over and throw her skirts back over them. For propriety, of course.

You hear rustling off to your left. Scrambling along the ground, dirt and pebbles press into your palms and scrape your knees. You peek around the carriage wheel to see what the cause of the commotion is.

In a ditch beside the road, Steve is wrestling with a… well. In the darkness it’s hard to make it out, but it’s some sort of wild cat. A cougar or a mountain lion, by the looks of it, and monstrously huge. No wonder why the carriage toppled; it has your guard pinned, dwarfing him and trying hard to bite at his throat.

You go to scream to draw the cat’s attention away from Steve, but before you can, Steve already has the cat by the jaws. His two big hands wrap around the wild cat’s upper and lower teeth, prying them open before they can bite down.

And he keeps prying, until the damned thing’s head rips apart in his hands.

You shriek. You can’t wrap your head around all the blood, pouring across his chest and face. Two pieces of a fleshy, gorey skull drop from his hands as he pushes himself up and flings the dead creature off of him. It flops limply to the ground, a pool of blood spilling from the torn remains of its head.

Steve stands tall, hulking and godly against the backdrop of night, and in the flickering light of the growing fire from the carriage, the blood on his mouth and chest glints wet and dark against his tan skin. You don’t know what happened to his riding coat- his white blouse is pasted to his skin, torn in places and gaping at the collar.

You remain, frozen in place, half-cowering behind the overturned carriage. The fire creeps ever closer to you, but you can’t find it in you to move.

You’re glad that he’s okay. At least, you think he is. He’s moving quickly and doesn’t seem to be injured, just… mad. His teeth look a lot sharper than they were before when he bares them. Your heart thuds in your chest, your hands clutching desperately at the corner of the carriage, and the most off-putting part of it all is that you’re not sure that it’s because you’re scared.

He could never scare you. Not your Steve.

“Steven?” Your voice sounds too small, high and girlish in your throat when you want to pretend that you’re being brave. That you’re unaffected by any of this. That you’re not… relieved that Miss Fontaine is unable to voice her disdain of everything you do, and of him.

The guilt you feel at that revelation is outweighed by the instant comfort of Steve’s eyes on you.

He lumbers toward you, eerily quiet and agile for how big he looks, how much of a beating he’d obviously taken. Dripping with blood that isn’t his, flesh from the creature he’d torn apart with his bare hands still clinging to his forearms and clothes.

“My lady, are you hurt?” He crouches before you with his palms upturned, allowing you to keep the carriage between you, as if you’re a prey animal capable of being frightened off.

“No.” Your battered hip throbs like it knows your lie and plans to expose it. “The driver-?”

“His wounds were too deep,” Steve says apprehensively, as if he’s worried he’ll scare you now. “Your governess?”

“Dead.” The word slams out of your throat and falls hard into the air between you. Steve’s brow furrows in a reluctant show of grief. Perhaps you should feel aggrieved as well, but as you search yourself for a show of tears, nothing comes. You don’t know why- perhaps from the shock of it. You weren’t particularly fond of your governess, but you never thought she’d die beside you. “The carriage… she didn’t listen to you.”

He couldn’t stop the scoff falling from his mouth if he tried. “Of course not.”

In the aftermath, everything is too quiet. There are no crickets chirping, no huffs of horses waiting to get on with the journey. The oil fire crackles dangerously behind you, but you’re too busy staring at him to care.

Your Steve. Your bodyguard, your huntsman, who can rip a wild animal in half with his bare hands. The light of the fire flickers in his eyes, a hint of that reflective green still glowing behind his pupils. You open your mouth to ask him about it, but before you can, he shuts his eyes and winces.

“I should go,” he grits out through clenched teeth, shaking his head roughly as if trying to rid himself of his thoughts- whatever they may be. “I should- I should go get help-”

“Are you- have you been hurt?”

“No- I-” he pauses distractedly, looking down at his hands. He clenches them quickly into fists, swallowing against a dry throat as he gets impossibly more agitated. “Not hurt, exactly… I shouldn’t- I need to go-”

“Steve,” you implore, and he whips his head up to give you a startled look when you lay your hand on his shoulder. You don’t know if it’s because of your touch, or if it’s because you didn’t call him Steven, as you usually have under the watchful eye of others. His skin burns feverishly through the thin linen of his blouse. “My god, you’re burning up-”

He flinches away like he’s frightened of your hand on him. “I’m not, I’m fine-”

“You are not fine-”

“You can’t come with me,” Steve snarls, his bloody hands wrapping around your wrists in a vise-like grip. You gasp when you feel his sharp nails dig into your skin, and he instantly softens- both his grip, and his expression. His beautiful eyes bore into yours with a new kind of urgency. “You need to stay here, with the carriage. And I- I’ll find someone-”

“You really think that’s wise?” you ask, staring levelly at him while he blinks dazedly down at your hands. His own completely encircle your wrists, his fingernails far longer and sharper than they ought to be.

You suck in a sharp breath when you see them, but you pull your eyes back to his face and ask him, “Do you really want to leave me alone here? After everything that’s happened?”

Steve’s chest puffs up with the ragged breath he takes, and his hands tighten possessively around your wrists. “No.”

“Right,” you say gently, twisting your wrists so that he loosens his hold. Your hands slip down into his, sticky blood transferring onto your skin all the way. You hardly feel it, with how badly his hands burn to the touch. “We stay together, now. Who knows how many more wildcats there might be?”

“I don’t think it’s them you need to worry about. I’m…” Steve trails off, staring into your eyes. Underneath the rage and the frustration he obviously has, he looks scared.

“You’re what, Steve?” You tilt your head, probably looking much coyer than you feel, with your heart beating loud in your chest. You try your best to be soothing, to be gentle with him even though you’ve seen how strong and violent he’s capable of being- you feel it drying on your own hands.

“I’m going to protect you. I would sooner kill anything that comes near you than see you harmed.” Steve clenches his jaw, his face contorting into a grimace. “My lady.”

“I know you will, honey.” Your thumb traces a little circle around the sharp tip of one of his pointed claws, glinting dangerously in the moonlight. Even if you can’t quite explain how, you know what they imply about your huntsman.

And yet, you like everything about them.

In the darkness, wild things stir. Every crackle of the leaves, every snap of a twig beyond the trees makes you jump. Your eyes search in the dark for the cause, and see nothing.

“What’s that?” you whisper, a frantic edge to your voice.

The forest quiets around you, until all you can hear is Steve’s breath against your ear.

“You have nothing to fear, my lady. Nothing in these woods will harm you while I’m here.” Still, your bodyguard’s hand on your waist tightens, pulling you further against the impossibly warm body beside you. The boldness of his touch makes you shiver.

You want to tell yourself that that’s true, but the longer you walk, the more it becomes clear that Steve is not doing well. The arm that isn’t wrapped around you clutches protectively across his middle, as though he’s trying to apply pressure to some unseen wound. Every so often, he hisses and doubles over in pain- and when you dig your heels into the ground and say, “Steven, you need to rest,” he snaps back, “No, I do not.”

You bicker like an old married couple until you inevitably throw your hands up in defeat. He’s not going to stop trailing through the woods, and you can’t stop him, nor will you turn back and leave him. You trust that he knows where he’s going, because he’s intimately familiar with this forest.

In spite of your frustration with him, you still cling to him, and he still holds you close. His body heat still burns you to your core. There’s a gaping hole within you that he needs to fill, if only he’d allow himself.

If your fiancé has coiled around you to squeeze your life from you, you think that Steve has managed to burrow deep into your chest, to keep you alive and warm. You’d like it if he stays there forever- even if he eats your heart in the process.

In the corner of your eye, you see Steve’s head tilt up, surveying the moon peeking out from behind the clouds. “We have two hours to get back to Havensfield.”

“What happens in two hours?”

Steve’s eyes flicker upwards again. Piercing green reflecting the light, shining like two iridescent jewels. You wonder if that’s why they’re hazel during the daylight. “The moon peaks in the sky.”

Your hand tightens where it rests on his waist, and you swear he gasps. “And then?”

Steve is quiet. His breathing is hard and labored as he stares directly forward. His skin shines with perspiration and blood from the creature that he killed in self defense. Though he’d wiped it from his face, it’s still fresh on his collar and chest, saturating his ripped blouse. You haven’t shown any disgust over it, merely acceptance, with your small hand curled around his damp sleeve. Your fingertips dig into his forearm and make him wince, considering how his mind is honing in on every small touch of your body to his.

You’re a lot easier to read than you think you are. Steve knows that you can tell what he is- to some extent, at least. You know that there’s some sort of transformation taking place, but you don’t seem to understand the real gravity of it. You don't seem scared about it.

That’s what worries Steve the most. You should be scared of him. You shouldn’t be holding onto him like you are, knowing what the raging animal writhing just below his skin wants to do to you. He wants to tell you to run; but then you won’t know where to go, and every beast loves a chase. It’s only a matter of time before his human faculties give out and his primal urges take over.

Sometimes Steve can manage to give into it, when he isn’t stressed. When there’s no real fear, aside from needing to be away from people for a few hours. Usually, by this time, he is alone in the trees, able to tear his clothes off and let his beast control him for however long it takes before the moon hits its peak. And then…

“How much do you know about lycanthropes?”

Steve sounds a lot calmer than he is. There’s a surging in his head, a mad rush to just let go. Stop fighting it. It’ll only be more painful if you do.

“Wolf-men?” There’s a smirk on your lips that makes the human part of him want to kiss the living daylights out of you. “Only what they tell you as a child. They look like men, but they’re not. Their life span is seven years, and if you burn their clothes it makes them stay a wolf forever. They can only be killed with silver. Once they get a taste for flesh, they eat nothing else.”

“Old wives’ tales,” he grunts. Mostly. “The clothes don’t make a difference. And we live just as long as any normal person.”

You blink at him. “We?”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs as another wave of pain slices through his gut, making him stagger. He loses his grip on you, collapsing clumsily to his knees as he rasps, “You’re smarter than that.”

“Steve!” Your hands wrap around his biceps as he gasps, and there’s a battle raging within him- to fling you away or to tackle you to the ground. He finds a midway point between the two where he pushes himself backwards to cling to the trunk of a tree.

“You need to get to town.” He doesn’t wait for you to object. He points a shaking hand in the direction of town. The sight of his own clawed finger aloft in the air makes him flush in embarrassment. You shouldn’t have to see him like this. “If you keep going straight through the trees you’ll reach Havensfield within the hour.”

“I’m not going,” you argue. He heaves a sigh through his nose, and you actually do stomp your foot this time. “Damn it, Steve, I’m not leaving you here!”

“You have to!” He shouts, pushing himself up to stand against the tree as he does. He looks defeated, agonized as he gazes at you pleadingly. “If you stay, you have no idea what I’ll do to you.”

“Will you kill me?”

“No.” He says it so quickly, he doesn’t even have to think about it. Because, you realize, he already has.

“Then I’m staying,” you tell him firmly. Steve opens his mouth to argue with you, and you shake your head at him. “That’s it, Steve. I’m staying here, and I’m not going.”

His voice cracks as he says, “I can’t fight it, honey.”

“Is that why it’s hurting you?” You ask him as it occurs to you. “Because you’re… you’re fighting it?”

Steve trembles when you touch him, a gentle hand on his arm that sends shivers up his spine. He nods. “It’s easier when I don’t.”

“Then don’t.”

He swallows loudly. “It’s- you don’t know what you’re asking-”

“Explain it to me,” you tell him quietly, as soothingly as you can. “Will it- is it not you? Is it something else that takes over? Is it going to harm you-”

“No,” Steve shakes his head vehemently, blinking fast. He’s sorting through his thoughts, finding it harder to cling to anything other than base desire the longer this goes on. “It’s… it’s me. I’m always here, always present. But the part of me that acts on morality is gone. There are no morals. I just act on impulse, for a while. And then… I transform. Physically.”

You nod slowly. “And that’s what happens at midnight.”

“That’s what happens,” he says, and cringes in pain. “Now you see why I didn’t want- why you should have stayed through the night. I would have- I’d be alone. I’d be back by morning. I always am.”

Your heart feels heavy with how much it aches for him. You recall the months that Steve has been employed by your father, and how he had conveniently been absent the night of the full moon. And you had never noticed, never made any sort of connection. There had never been anything to make you suspicious.

But after every night he was gone, he was always there in the morning. Punctual as anything, you could set a clock by him. You could open the door, and where once was a lady’s maid sitting outside your bedchamber, there would be Steve, holding a bouquet of flowers for you with an apologetic smile. You couldn’t place what the apology was for until now.

“Does my father know?”

“Only that I needed the night,” Steve says, panting. “Nothing more.”

“Did Miss Fontaine know?”

He laughs, and it sounds feeble in his chest. “You think she would have let me near you if she did?”

Your lips quirk up at the edges. “You’ve been keeping your tracks covered, Mr. Harrington.”

“Just trying to be careful.” Steve chuckles, sounding strained as his nails dig into the bark of the tree he clings to. “Always have to be careful with you, you have no idea…”

“And you’re afraid,” you inquire, “that if you act on your impulses, you’ll… hurt me?”

“Hurt you?” he echoes. The mere notion of it wounds him- he’s sure he looks offended when he faces you. “No, I’d sooner die. Harm you, yes. Defile you, absolutely. You’d be a wreck when I'm finished with you.”

Your face burns as you watch him double over again, clutching onto the tree like it’s his lifeline, and the sight of him in so much pain hurts you more than anything. More than the loss of your governess, and more than the invisible hold your fiancé has on you. “Stop fighting it.”

“I won’t- my lady, if I don’t try to fight it, I’ll-” Steve squeezes his eyes shut, resting his forehead against the trunk of the tree with a pathetic whimper. He murmurs weakly, “I can’t sacrifice your virtue for my own comfort.”

“My virtue?” You tilt your head with a teasing smile. “I’m not nearly as virtuous as I seem.”

“Yes, you love to test my will.” Steve’s dark eyes lock on yours as he turns his head. There’s a flash of warning in them. “It must be one of your favorite hobbies. My hearing is much better than you think.”

You stare at each other heavily. Shallow breaths get stuck in your throat, now that he’s confirmed what you expected all along. He heard you all those times, standing guard on the other side of the door as you lay alone in your room and touched yourself to the thought of him. The knowledge sets a blaze alight within you.

He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows.

So, you’re at an impasse. He won’t set aside his chivalry. You won’t leave him here alone. All that’s left is to push and pull at each other until one of you gives, and you’ll be damned if it’s going to be you.

Steven: your huntsman, your bodyguard, your… lover. All these can be true if you just let it be.

You have nowhere left to go. No one else you want to turn to. If you make it to the town you’ll simply be foisted off to your fiancé, or returned to your parents, who will then turn around and give you over to the Duke. All roads lead to him, an inescapable fate that you’d been wishing for a chance to get away from.

So, you make a snap decision without considering the consequences- but really, what’s there to consider? This is the death of your previous life, one way or another.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks, even though he knows the answer, as he watches you begin to remove the pins that hold the bodice of your dress shut.

“I’m testing your will,” you tell him flatly.

“You can’t, you’re- you’re engaged.”

“You expect me to believe you really care about that?” Your linen bodice slides off of your shoulders to the ground, revealing your stays and the sleeves of your chemise. “Or am I so undesirable that you can’t bear the thought of seeing me naked?”

As you begin untying your skirts, Steve growls, “Stop it.”

“Or what?” Your overskirt falls to the ground, your petticoat standing out stark white against the backdrop of the forest. “It’s not like there’s anyone here to make me. Except for you.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for-”

“Oh, but I do.” You grin at him as your soft muslin petticoat flutters to the ground, and you stand before him in nothing but your undergarments. Stocking-clad legs disappear beneath your linen chemise, your stays pushing your breasts up and over your neckline with each passing breath. You watch Steve’s eyes predictably fall to them, wide with hunger. “Tick tock, Mr. Harrington. We have two hours, and I can’t undo these stays by mysel- OOMF-”

The wind knocks out of your lungs as you fall back onto the damp earth, pinned beneath an enormous body and held tight by sharp claws. You instinctively wriggle beneath him, but Steve’s large hands hold yours fast against the ground over your head.

A whimper leaves your throat, echoing the ones he’d been hearing all along from just beyond your door. You stare up into his eyes and they’re dark, no longer glowing but eclipsed by black pupils that seem to grow bigger as he watches you squirm beneath him. His face is so close, his breath tickles your skin, and you try to hold still even though every muscle in your body is screaming at you to roll your hips up into his.

“You are such. A fucking. Brat. You- you don’t know how much I have to hold myself back with you. If I don’t, I’ll destroy you. Do you understand?” His voice is at such a low register that it practically rumbles from his chest directly into yours, vibrating in your ribs. Your heart pounds, your thighs clamping down tight on either side of his hips because you don’t want him to move away. “I’m sworn to protect you. I’m trying to do the right thing.”

Between your legs, your muscles tense and release like they’re searching for something to grip onto. “So protect me,” you whisper. “Do us both a favor. Don’t let me go to him. Make me yours.”

He shakes his head, and his nose bumps against yours. “That wouldn’t be protecting you. They’d kill us.”

“Not if we’re already dead. They’ll never find us, they’ll think we died in the crash, or- or…” Frustrated, your hips squirm up against his, and he hisses when you brush the tent in his trousers. “Be selfish for once. Do what you will to me, Steve. Damn it, I want you to…”

You trail off, because Steve is already dipping his head to breathe in your scent, just along your pulse point. A gasp hitches in your throat as he moves downward, his lips dragging gently over the soft skin. The vibration of your moan rumbles against his mouth.

“This… this is a bad idea,” he mumbles, but his mind is already going fuzzy, reason becoming harder to grasp while instinct and desire takes over. He can feel himself drooling onto your skin. Your heaving chest becomes wet with his saliva the longer he lingers over it, mesmerized by the feel of your warmth on his lips.

“Do it. Take me, Steve,” you whine, lifting your leg until the linen of your chemise falls back to reveal soft skin, your inner thigh brushing his hip. “I want you. Please. Please, please.”

The scent of your arousal fills the air, earthy and sweet, and Steve’s will flounders and dissipates. There’s nothing that can stop him now. He’s done for. He sinks his claws into the quilting and linen at your chest, and he rips through your stays without warning.

A rush of breath fills your lungs at the sudden jolt of your stays snapping apart, and turns into a weak noise the moment his wet mouth closes over your exposed nipple. The warm summer night air hangs humid around you, making your skin stickier, sweatier. Steve inhales the natural perfume of your body, more powerful of an aphrodisiac than he’s ever experienced.

“You’re so soft,” Steve croons when you mewl at the scratch of his pointed canines. “My sweet girl, never had anyone kiss you like this, have you?”

“N-no, Steve.” You choke on your breath, your eyes rolling back in your skull as his large hand cups your breast and his claws prick at your skin. The pain and pleasure combine into an entirely new, indescribable feeling that swells beneath your ribs. “Only you.”

His tongue drags over your chest, tasting, savoring the exposed flesh that no one else has dared to touch. The feeling is warm and sweet, melted gold that drips through your skin down to the bone. “Is this what you wanted?”

“I- yes.” You give a muffled mewl in return when he sinks his teeth in, leaving an indent over your heart in the shape of his mouth. “God- you have such sharp teeth.”

“All the better to eat you with,” Steve rasps in reply, his breath fanning over your damp skin and making you struggle against his hold. He releases your wrists, claws digging into the earth instead as he moves down your body. “Always make such pretty sounds f’me- you don’t have to hide them now, you know. I want to hear them. Wanna hear what I do to you.”

Your hands lift to sink into his hair. Feather-soft locks spill over your knuckles, and it’s so tempting to just grab them and pull when he bites again, like he might try to leave a permanent mark there on your ribs for you to come back to later. You don’t think you’d mind it if he did. A possessive part of you wants him to leave his mark on you, so that no one else can doubt who you belong to.

Your hips lurch up to collide with his stomach. There’s nothing there to give you the friction you want, just a solid, hot body that in itself is an entirely new and erotic experience for you. If he notices how flustered it makes you, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps mouthing over your skin, your ribs and your stomach tenderized with love bites that ache the longer he lingers on them.

“I wanted this, too,” Steve says now, while his hands drift over the plane of your stomach and grab the tattered scraps of your clothes to rip them further. A perfect line splits down the weave of the fabric until you’re laid entirely bare before him. “You’ve no idea- whenever I hear you, whenever you taunt me. Want to tear you apart.”

His nose dips over your navel, down to the matted curls that he’s dreamed of, shrouding your sex and wet with your arousal. He breathes in deep. His mind is unable to sort through the waves of desire spinning through it, washing over him in burning rivulets that coalesce deep in his core.

Spit dribbles from his parted lips down to the folds of your pussy, making you flinch as the hot liquid drips across your sensitive flesh. Your hips buck, your cunt pulsing hotly in earnest for him to touch you, but he won’t. Or, he hasn’t. He’s lingering there with his nose pressed to your pubic bone, breathing in long, deep gulps of air that rattle in his throat. Pheromones and sex filling his lungs, clouding his mind.

“What’re you- oh.” Your lashes flutter as he nuzzles his head against your stomach, and slowly drags his cheek over your pelvis, your hip, your thigh. He nudges the top of your stockings with his nose, pulling the fabric back to reach more of your skin. You don’t even think he’s paying attention to the effect that it has on you. He’s somewhere else, lost in his own world as he marks you with his scent. Your cheeks burn at the thought.

“You’re mine now. Mine,” Steve states roughly, nipping at your inner thigh with his teeth as he echoes your dreams of him- the ones you’re sure he couldn’t know, unless being a lycanthrope also constitutes being a psychic. It makes you shudder. “You belong to me, yeah? It’s just you and me from now on. You and me.”

“Yours, Steve,” you repeat, and it makes your head spin. Your fingers sift through his hair, your bloodstained hands mirroring his own against your thighs in the dark. “I’ve always been yours.”

The warm brush of his tongue between your legs is enough to make you jump. Your moan sounds too loud, even to your own ears- so many nights you spent quietly whimpering into your own palm, and now you can’t be bothered to quiet the howl that breaks out of your throat. He takes to your cunt with long, wide strokes that practically burn with their heat.

“Oh- oh, Stevie, I-” you gasp when he growls against you, the vibration shocking you like lightning. “That’s so good.”

Some things you simply can’t replicate with your fingers, and the feeling of Steve’s mouth on you is one of them. He’s messy, drenching you in his saliva, and he’s wild, his tongue broad enough to somehow reach every bit of you.

You open your eyes long enough to glimpse his, and they’re black as the night around you, seeming to get darker the further he indulges his impulses. He squints, as though he’s teasing you, daring you to do something to make him stop.

“Don’t stop,” you whimper softly, letting your head fall back onto the damp earth.

It’s sinful, this feeling of flesh on flesh that should never rightfully meet. Everything is swollen and wet, relaxed and yet drawn so tight you could snap apart. Steve’s enormous hands grip into the fat at the top of your thighs, holding you apart no matter how much your legs try to close around his head. The wool of your stockings scrape blindly along his back when your feet kick and squirm, your calves thrown over his broad shoulders.

His tongue touches your clit, and you jolt. He hadn’t really been focusing on it, more interested in getting as much of your taste in his mouth as possible. But now he zeroes in on it, his tongue going hard and then soft, lapping over it in a soft back-and-forth. You chase him with your hips, riding his tongue and adding an extra layer of pleasure to what’s overloading your mind.

And there’s nothing in his head but primal lust, and the strength to take what he pleases. He wants everything that you can give. But Steve knows, back in the recesses of his mind where his morality has retreated to, that he’s still holding himself back. That he’s madly in love with you, so even the most animalistic part of him wants to taste every part of you, stake a claim to you, even if it means he has to take his time.

So, he licks long and slow through your folds, and you keen up towards the stars because nothing in this world feels quite like it. And it’s the most wretched and awful thing, the pride that swells in his chest when you cum, with your back arched and loud cries falling from your lips. Cries of Steve’s name.

You taste like heaven. He’d stay between your legs for eternity just to have you on his tongue. He comes up panting, mumbling praises that can hardly be made out over the purring in his throat.

“God, you’re lovely,” he says, climbing up your body and marking it with his dripping mouth. Steve aches for you- it’s not enough, not even close to what he wants to do to you. “So agreeable for me. Sweet little lamb. I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

A feeble whimper catches in your throat while your nails scratch at the fabric against his shoulders. Here you lay, completely naked for him, and he hasn’t even removed the tattered remains of his blouse. You don’t have it in you to ask him to, you just tear at the thin linen like it’ll magically disappear on its own.

He dips his head and lets you grip it in your fists, pulling the torn garment off so you can throw it as far away as you can. Steve’s skin burns to the touch, his freckled shoulders searing your fingers when you grab for him. The pelt of hair on his chest tickles your stomach, and you instinctively press further into him, wrapping your arms around his torso when his mouth reaches your throat.

You cling to him, shaking like a leaf. He warms you better than any fire could, laying his weight upon you. Your hands creep lower, stroking down the length of his spine to feel him shudder, his teeth grazing your pulse. He groans when your fingers dance across his lower back and beneath the waist of his trousers.

“Ohhhh god, I wanna do everything with you. Please.” You plant kisses along the side of his face, “God, I’m in love with you. I’m so in love with you, Steve, I-”

Steve turns his head and catches your lips with his, his tongue dipping into your mouth to taste you there, too. It’s a slow kiss, sensual, tender rather than fiery and rabid. You chase him when he pulls back to say, “I’m in love with you too, sweet girl. I’ll give you what you want.”

“I’m tired of waiting, Stevie,” you urge him gently, coaxing his trousers down over the curve of his ass. He snarls when you squeeze at the exposed flesh, his hips snapping forward to ram blindly into yours, his teeth nipping at your jaw. You’re becoming accustomed to the feeling of them on your skin. It delights you. “Let me have you or let me die, but do it now.”

Steve rears back, his bright white grin flashing in the moonlight. He stares you down with big eyes, glowing like cinders while he undresses himself indelicately- he tears through the buttons at his waist, rather than taking the time to undo them properly. Your eyes trace the stripe of hair running down the middle of his stomach, widening into the unruly patch that surrounds his cock.

A moment’s hesitation strikes into your limbs; you don’t see how it could possibly fit inside you. Steve is big all over, and you don’t know if it’s just a trick of the magic on this night or if he’s always like this, a permanent reflection of the beast within him. But his cock curves up toward his navel, thicker at the base than anywhere else, glistening velvety flesh appearing incredibly massive in the dark and blue moonglow. In spite of everything, your cunt pulses. Your body knows better than you, now.

You widen your legs for him.

You satisfy yourself that your work is done, it’ll take no more well-placed temptation and pleading to get him to use you how he wants- how you both want. Maybe in the morning he’ll regret it, when he has the mind to be a gentleman again, but you know with a thrill in the pit of your stomach that you won’t.

Steve’s clawed hands dig selfishly into your thighs, the points of them breaking the skin, and you yelp as he yanks you into his lap. Bent backwards over the thick, hairy expanses of his own thighs, your shoulders crush dead leaves on the ground.

“Feel that, sweet thing?” He asks, his voice resonating deep in his chest as the length of his cock drags heavily through your folds, the same path that his tongue had taken. You feel your pussy lips part around him. His cock gathers up the slickness of your arousal, his swollen head catching on your clit as he does. The lewd, sticky noise of it has your blood rushing hot beneath your skin. Your cunt pulses in warning, like you might cum just from this.

He hums deep within his chest. “Such a good girl, so wet for me. So desperate for my cock.”

The stretch sears when he enters you. You thrash in his hold, your hands clawing at the damp soil beneath you, but all you do is push him further in. Beyond the fullness, the pulsating ache and the pain of the intrusion, he hits something deep within you that makes you cry out, your muscles locking down tight around him.

“There you go, that’s it,” Steve coos, but there’s nothing gentle in his voice. He doesn’t know how to be sweet anymore. He rocks back and then pulls you down against his hips again, making you repeat that same feral cry. “Now you know how it feels to have a monster inside you.”

You don’t know how many minutes he spends there, just taking in your warmth and your wetness, tighter than sin as he rolls his hips. The sting soon fades into an aching pleasure that has you relishing the slow drag of his cock as it slides out of you and back in. It meets its end with the flush press of his hip bones to yours.

There’s a deep roiling in your gut that makes you keen loudly into the night, the sounds coming from your mouth entirely less than human. You find yourself meeting his thrusts with a desperate rock of your own hips, chasing that stirring within you.

“S-stevie-” you whine, your muddy hand reaching forward and clamping around his hairy forearm as he rolls his cock into you with a wild growl. You don’t really know what you were about to say- all rational thought escapes you when he picks up speed.

Steve chuckles above you, his dark eyes raptly watching your face as you lose more of your composure. He watches your jaw go slack, your brows tilted up in quiet desperation. Even if you can’t articulate it, he knows. “Feeling good, sweetheart?”

Your body feels like it’s on fire and he’s no better, scorching you from the inside out. Each push of his cock hits sharp heaven inside you, something you didn’t even know was possible and yet you craved it all the same.

“Mmm- I know you do,” he purrs, far too soft and quiet for the way that he’s fucking you, hard and fast, jolting you across the ground. He runs his nails slowly across your sensitive skin, letting your nipples catch on them with just enough pressure to make you squeal.

You gasp when he snatches you by the waist and yanks you up into his lap in one easy move. A loud moan punches from your lungs when he sits you fully down onto his cock. You take all of it at once, every last pulsating inch, while his mouth hovers a hair’s breadth away from yours.

Steve groans when he kisses you, soft lips to offset his sharp teeth, his strong arms pulling you against his body. The hair on his chest scrapes against your sensitive nipples, making you whimper into his mouth.

Your hands settle onto his shoulders, squeezing the hard muscle when you instinctively rock your hips against his. On shaky legs, you pick yourself up and roll your hips back down, delighting in the deep growl that comes from his chest.

“There you go- such a good fucking girl, ridin’ me like that.” A wide grin splits his handsome face as he guides you against him, his hands draped over your ass to drag you closer. “Just can’t help yourself, can you? Just wanna be full of me, is that it?”

Beyond able to answer him properly, you just nod. Your cunt throbs, tightening around him as you try to draw back- he groans so pretty, you slam yourself down onto him in desperation.

“FUCK!” He snarls rabidly, gripping you by the back of the neck. Steve gives in, jerking his hips to fuck up into you as hard as he can. Your head drops back, cradled by the curve of his forefinger and thumb as you cry out into the trees. His mouth finds your throat, bitten raw but still so pristine- more than the beast in him likes it to be.

He sucks hard on your pulse point, and you clamp down around his cock even harder. There’s a resounding wet noise kicking up from where you meet, loud and slick as it echoes between your sweaty bodies. With a broken noise in your throat, your weak hands squeeze at his shoulders for something to stabilize yourself with.

“Baby,” he warns, “you’re gonna make me cum if you keep-”

“I want it.” You don’t even let him finish his sentence, you’re so worked up. Your hips keep moving, desperately chasing your release even when his hands are tightening on you so hard they make you whine. “Give it to me, Stevie, please.”

You two create a vicious cycle- the harder you bring yourself down on him, the harder and faster he fucks up into you in retaliation. Your orgasm is so close that you can practically taste it. You don’t know which one of you is going to break first, but you know it’ll be devastating.

“M’gonna give it to you- shit- gonna fill this pretty pussy, you’ll be dripping my cum for days.” He curses furiously, a loud moan cutting from his lungs. His hair hangs over his eyes as he stares up into your face. A muscle in his jaw jumps. “Gonna fuck you so full of my kids, you’ll be so round- gonna give you my babies-”

You sob his name, drowning between the legs as your pussy clenches down around him. God, you don’t want it to end, but you can already feel it rearing up within you. You have to bite your lip against that simmering, violent ecstasy that’s welling up deep inside of you. His forehead drops to your shoulder.

“Fffffuck- M’gonna make you mine,” he pants into your skin again, his tongue laving across your pulse. This time, there’s an added weight to his words. “Want that, hm? Wanna be with me forever? Just like me?”

“Yes, Steve,” you cry, clinging onto him as you grind down on his cock, searing pleasure kicking up inside you at the thought. Your pussy pulses, and you give him a garbled noise of warning.

He nuzzles your jaw, and kisses you so sweetly beneath your ear that you think you imagine it. “It’ll hurt. Just for a minute. And then we can be together…”

Then, two things happen at once. Steve’s teeth sink into your shoulder hard, harder than he has yet. And that mounting ecstasy unleashes all its fury within you.

You cum screaming, from the pleasure tearing through you, and the pain only seeming to build into it- wild, animalistic sounds coming from your own throat. Your blood is in Steve’s mouth, your flesh torn against his teeth. He’s released something into your body that writhes and squirms, just below the surface. Just like what lives in him.

You claw at his back- your nails aren’t nearly as sharp as his, but you still manage to raise welts as your spasming cunt drenches his cock. It burns you alive. It eats away at you until there’s nothing left of you or your soul- just the feeble part of your brain that loves and feels him.

There’s a swelling deep within you, an anguished cry against your torn skin that you hardly register as his before you feel him cum, his cock pulsing hard within you. Steve presses up into you, slow and easy, holding you there against his hips with all the strength in his adrenaline pumped body.

Your head is spinning. You feel dizzy, and even then you can tell when you’re stuffed to the brim, the swelling becoming an overwhelming stretch again. You whimper into his neck, hoping that the inquisitive noise will convey your question, because you don’t trust yourself to be able to come up with the words to articulate it.

“Fuck- this is going to take a minute-” he groans when you squirm, his hands trying to hold you still. “It’s- it’s meant to keep you there- keep my cum in you.”

You harumph against his skin, your eyes rolling back into your head. You’re still twitching, still pulsing from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Even though the swelling of the knot at the base of his cock is bordering on overstimulating, you relish the closeness that it forces you to have with him now. That he has to stay here, inside you. That he has to hold you for a while, as his body readjusts to normalcy.

As you accept that there’s no going back now.

“I want to say that I’m sorry,” Steve murmurs, his voice rough and gravelly, still fussing over the bite on your shoulder. He runs his tongue over it- not necessarily trying to be erotic, but you think anything he does to your body comes off that way now. “But I wouldn’t mean it if I did.”

You hiss a little as the wound stings. “I’m not sorry.”

“You can’t get married to the Duke now, you know.” Steve pauses. “And, I suppose you can’t go back to your family either, so… I think it’s time you meet mine. Now that we’re mated.”

That makes you smile, a half-giggle falling from your lips. That’s probably as close to a proposal of marriage as you could hope for, right now. Your eyes fall shut, the slow stroking of his tongue over your wound and the strong heat of his body lulling you. “Am I gonna turn tonight?”

“No.” He shakes his head, nuzzling his nose against your neck. “Next month. It has to take, first. Get into your veins, make you suffer. Just the good stuff.”

“But you…”

“I’ve got an hour,” he says, and you feel him tilt his head up toward the sky.

You hum sleepily, letting yourself relax in his arms. They’re covered in more hair than they had been before- pretty much all of him is. Wherever it grows, it’s getting thicker and denser the closer it gets to midnight. “Stay with me.”

“I’ll be here,” Steve assures you, soothing your skin with kisses. “I’ll always be here. Forever.”

Things lose their clarity, your surroundings slowly slip away with your consciousness. You fall asleep against him, soothed by his warmth and the pace of his breath on your neck.

At some point, well after midnight, you rouse sleepily to find yourself curled up on a heap of torn clothes, between the paws of an enormous, brown-haired wolf.

You wake in the morning at the impact of a pile of cloth hitting you squarely in the chest.

You startle, coming up with a screech. Steve’s arm is around you- strong, muscular, and a lot less covered in hair than it had been the last time you’d seen it. He makes an inquisitive noise and sits up, naked as the day he was born, with leaves sticking out of his hair. He resembles Shakespeare’s Puck- streaked with dirt and grime, a bit of blood still matted in his chest hair, but the morning sun creates a golden halo around his head.

“Morning, lovebirds.”

You don’t know what comes over you at the sound of the strange man’s voice, but you scramble so quickly that you practically barrel roll over Steve’s body. He grunts and moves to grab you, but you’re already plopping down on the other side of him and using his body as a shield.

Steve blinks hard against the white light of morning, and squints at the strange man who had thrown a stack of folded clothes at you. “Eddie?”

“In the flesh.” The man stands proudly, clad in a mishmash of old and new, very new, clothes. His dark hair hangs loose and unkempt around his face, which smiles prettily at Steve with a pair of enormous, pointed canines.

“What’re you doing here?”

Eddie snorts. “Did you somehow forget that we turn in these woods, too?” He shakes his head, tutting condescendingly. “Stevie boy, you’ve been away from home for too long.”

“No, I-” Steve stops. “Where’s Robin?”

“Still getting dressed. Which you should do, too. Glad I’m the one who found you, there’s some kind of uproar about the Duke of Hargrove’s lady-love going missing, and- oh. Wait.” Eddie crouches, his eyes peering over Steve’s shoulder at you. He grins in a way that tells you he already knows the answer when he asks, “That couldn’t have been you, could it?”

“Eddie, watch it,” Steve growls territorially, throwing his hand backwards as if to shield you further from him.

The man- Eddie- chuckles, and stands. “Well, I figured you’d want to introduce us. Seeing as how that pretty mark on her shoulder tells me she’s, ah…” he twirls his finger, clad in a large, silver ring in the air, “a part of the pack, now.”

Steve huffs a sigh, and lifts his hand. “My lady, allow me to introduce you to Edward Munson.” Eddie bows dramatically, smirking at you as Steve says, “He’s a member of my family.”

“The best member.”

“Debatable.”

“Wait-” you start, sitting up further, your gaze still trained on Eddie’s hand, and the ring he wears. “Is that… Miss Fontaine’s ring?”

Eddie pauses. “Oh, was that your carriage back there?”

Steve snarls, moving to jump up. You yank him back into place to shield your naked body as he growls, “Eddie I’m going to fucking kill you-”

You’re not that far ahead yet. “Does that mean the thing about silver killing us is an old wive’s tale, too?”

Eddie and Steve both pause, and look at you blankly. Then, Eddie laughs- a bone-deep, guttural laugh that sounds like a wolf’s howl.

“Better watch out, Harrington, she’s way quicker on the uptake than you were,” he chuckles. “She’s gonna fit right in.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #werewolf!steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #roses*

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kasagia · 8 months ago

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Dancing with the devil II

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: The Na-Baron's birthday celebration on Giedi Prime at the beginning of the season makes you realise just how much work you'll have to put into becoming Empress—and even more into avoiding Harkonnen, who's showing you way too much attention. This is something that your almost-fiance definitely shouldn't like, and something that he doesn't notice. After all, there's little you can see in the darkness of Giedi Prime. Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; Inspired by: Bridgerton and "Would've, could've, should've" - Taylor Swift Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART I ~•♤♤♤•~ PART III ~•♤♤♤•~

"Smile. And powder yourself. You look pale, as if we were going there for a beheading and not a ball." Your mother says, adjusting the position of the grid of diamonds decorating your head. You flinch as you feel the cool metal of the gems brush against your cheek.

The damn thing was heavy, but nice. You remember perfectly how Lord Luwael's eyes lit up when he saw you wearing a similar ornament in your hair.

"In a way it is. First we will see the fight in the arena." You are sceptical of what comes next when your ship lands on Giedi Prime. You didn't like this place. It was black and white, barren, devoid of life and any moral principles. It was therefore an ideal place for gossip to arise - especially the spicy ones.

Besides, your... last encounter with Na-Baron was still fresh in your memory. Especially in dreams. On those terrible nights, you dreamed about how, in the darkness of your gardens and under the moonlight, you allowed him to do... more wicked things. Things that even husbands and wives shouldn't do behind their chambers' doors. And as much as you felt aroused after every dream like this, you were also disgusted with yourself and hated the Na-Baron even more for your little fantasies.

This helped immensely when it came to increasing motivation to win the emperor's cousin's heart, but no amount of flirting with him helped you forget the touch of a certain Harkonnen. You found it very interesting. And you hoped that after fighting in the arena, your body would adopt the same attitude towards him as your brain. He was dangerous and should have been avoided by you at all costs, and yet, in every fantasy about him, you enjoyed his burning touch more than the previous ones and wanted much more to happen between you two.

"Better for you. Half of these charpies in silks and sparkles will faint and never set foot in a ballroom. Take this opportunity and stick to the arm of the emperor's cousin." She advises you, licking her finger and twisting a lock of your hair so it rests unruly against your temple and falls onto your cheek.

"Lord Luwael wrote to me all summer. Besides, you saw for yourself that he visited our planet several times."

"It does not mean anything. He could only be bored, so he flew around the planets looking for entertainment. You have to charm him, Y/N. Drive him crazy with a... desire for you so great that he will do anything to have you—only then will he propose to you. It's still a miracle that he looked at you, since we come from a worse dynasty than him." He reminds you dryly, and you press your lips into a thin line. He doesn't wait for your answer. She leaves your room, clearly expecting you to follow her, when the ship announces that you are about to land.

You take a shaky breath, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your home-coloured dress hugged your curves perfectly, showing off the best of your figure, and your makeup highlighted your cheekbones and gave your eyes depth. All of this made you an irresistible sight. Lord Luwael would have to be blind not to appreciate your beauty. You will leave Giedi Prime with a ring on your finger or on the ship of the emperor's cousin. You did not see any other possibility, nor did you want to allow something other to happen.

You put on your soft, genuine smile and leave the room to join your mother on the exit ramp. Moments later, the ramp descends, revealing the black sun of Giedi Prime. You frown and squint as you adjust to the atmosphere on the planet. Your mother and you come down to earth. As soon as you can see beyond the patch of land in front of you, you shiver as you notice the Na-Baron waiting near your ship. You feel your anxiety and nervousness rising inside you, but you try your hardest to maintain your polite smile.

"Viscountess Y/L/N. Lady Y/L/N." He greets you, his gravelly voice sending shivers down your spine. You try to control your breathing and heartbeat, as panic is rising within you.

He looks... even more intimidating than on your home planet. That night, his mask had covered practically his entire face, but now you could see him in all his glory. And damn you, because those tempting lips he had weren't the only advantage of his appearance.

His face looked as if thousands of painters had worked on it, as if it had been lifted from ancient paintings depicting beautiful demons tempting people to damnation. And, oh, what a handsome devil he was. If you believed in an afterlife, you would wonder if he escaped from hell to lead people into temptation.

You couldn't help but wonder if he would recognise you. Does he know that it was you who went with him to the garden a few months ago? You try to read some reaction from his face, but he maintains an emotionless, composed demeanour as he looks at you and your mother.

"Na-Baron. It's a great honour to be here to celebrate your birthday. May fate always be in your favour." She greets him kindly. You shiver in relief as he thankfully doesn't pay much attention to you as his gaze comes back to your mother.

"I hope it will. The maids will show you the way to the guest wing and your chambers. All celebrations will take place tomorrow. I hope that you will soon get used to the atmospheric conditions in Giedi Prime. Until then." He nods at the maids standing behind him. Bald women come up to you and hand you tiny baskets. "Our guests find it quite useful."

You look at the things in the basket; your attention is caught by sunglasses with black lenses and a strange coat. Your mother reaches for her coat and, with practiced skill, slips it gracefully over herself, along with her glasses, as you stare unsteadily at the strange fabric.

"Lady Y/L/N. May I?" Na-Baron asks. However, he doesn't wait for your answer.

He comes closer to you, takes your cloak from the basket, and hands it to your servants. He wraps the coat around you, adjusting it to your figure and making sure to cover all of your exposed skin.

"We Harkonnens have a special pigment in our skin to prevent the carcinogenic effects of sunlight and burns from long-term exposure. You must remember to wear this coat outside to avoid any diseases, Lady Y/L/N." He says, standing behind you and tying the fabric of your coat together. He uncovers your face for a moment and puts on your sunglasses. "Nor your beautiful eyes to be damaged." He whispers, so only you can hear him.

You shiver, staring at him blankly, glad that your sunglasses allow you the convenience of hiding your eyes from him and whatever you're focused on.

Was it possible that he recognised you? Was he giving you a hint that he knew you were his white swan? NO. Impossible. He probably flirted with every single woman who came to Giedi Prime. After all, he was going to find a wife this season. He had to show his softer side and hide Giedi Prime's brutality from the naive noblewomen so that some stupid and naive one would marry him.

"We thank you very much for your kindness, Na-Baron." Your mother speaks for you, obviously angry that you haven't spoken up for yourself. You just nod, shifting your gaze to the castle behind him, trying to escape his watchful, searching gaze for a moment.

"Your welcome." He responds with a nod to your mother.

He takes your hand in his, making you tense slightly as he leans down and presses a short kiss on it. A shiver runs through you as you feel the shape of his lips through your gloves, and your mind automatically recalls the memory of that night. You smile at him politely and quickly join your mother's side, leaving Na-Baron on the ramp as another ship arrives.

"Do not act like that. Don't show that you're afraid of them. And be careful. It's very common for people here to disappear after showing disrespect to the Na-Baron. You know how, right?" She whispers furiously to you as you are led inside the palace by the maids.

"I... I know. I'm sorry." You say this thoughtfully, turning discreetly over your shoulder to watch him greet the other noble families. This time, he doesn't kiss anyone's hand or help anyone put on their protective cloak. You shake your head. He probably saw that you weren't engaged to anyone yet, and that's why you got... special treatment from him.

"Just don't act like a scared mouse. I raised you better."

Right. Your mother raised you better. That's why you shouldn't have disappeared into the garden with this mysterious stranger from the very beginning. It would save you a headache now that wasn't caused by the oppressive atmosphere on Giedi Prime. You just wanted this season to end as soon as possible. Preferably your marriage.

You walk hand in hand with Lady Y/F/N towards the arena, gossiping about what happened since last night. The Giedi Prime sun is somehow more bearable today; you don't know if it's because of the items given by Na-Baron or because the weather was exceptionally not as cruel as the day you arrived, but you feel much better. (Or maybe it was because you didn't see Na-Baron Harkonnen today.)

"I tell you, Princess Irulan was furious. I heard she destroyed her room, and the maids worked all night to get it back in order. Do you think it's possible? That the Emperor wants to marry her off to Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha?"

"Possible. It wouldn't be a stupid move. After all, Irulan cannot become emperor. She may be the firstborn, but she has no right to rule. It is logical that her father wants to marry her off to the second-best possible party, of course, when it comes to financial and political issues."

"Second best? Who's first?" You just smile at her question, watching the other noblewomen and their families walk towards the arena.

"Of course, as a woman in love, I must say that Lord Luwael."

"Has someone talked about me?"

A faint blush appears on your cheeks. You and Y/F/N turn around to see a smug Lord. You give him an equally mischievous smirk and curtsy, grabbing the arm he offered you.

"I do not think so. You must have misheard, Lord Luawel. Maybe it's the sun of Giedi Prime that bothers you so much that you lose your hearing?" You tease him as the three of you enter the arena.

"Lady Y/N, you don't have to worry about me so much, as sweet as that is. Fortunately, I don't need as much protection as you ladies do. However, I must admit that Giedi Prime is a terrible place. It does not allow you to see the natural beauty of certain things, taking away their colours."

"Maybe there's something… positive to be found here?" Y/F/N asks hesitantly as you pass a group of Harkonnens heading to the arena. The men say something in their harsh, unpleasant language that makes you shiver. You are only further insisting that there is nothing good to find on Giedi Prime.

"Positive? With all due respect, Lady Y/F/N, the Harkonnens have destroyed everything beautiful that could be left on this planet. Including their appearance and behavior." You giggle, careful not to let anyone else but the three of you hear you. But you wonder why your friend's attitude is so... sullen. She plays with her glove nervously as her eyes fall on the baron's older nephew, Rabban. "I don't know who is worse, him or his younger psychopathic brother."

"I think both of them are equal in their madness." You comment, agreeing with Lord Luwael.

Your eyes involuntarily land on Na-Baron, who exchanges a few words with one of his servants. You shiver when his eyes find yours—as if he has a special detector that makes him aware every time someone's eyes linger on him for too long.

He nods to you, looking at you carefully and examining your dress. His lips twitch into a smile when he sees you're wearing the coat he helped you adjust to your figure yesterday. You quickly turn your head towards Lord Luwael and give him one of your practiced, beautiful smiles.

"I… I'm sorry. I should join my family. Lord Luwael. Lady Y/N."

You frown, watching her walk away like a beaten puppy. You decide to question her about her strange behavior later in the evening. Now you had to focus on your lord.

"And you, lady? Are your wonderful mother and father with you?" Lord Luwael asks, placing his hand on top of yours after managing to penetrate the layers of material protecting your skin. He acts as if he wants to pull you much closer to him.

You feel the skin of your hand burn where it touches his, but unfortunately, not from... the excitement of this tiny, forbidden contact. Someone's eyes are watching you carefully, but you are too afraid to look towards Na-Baron to confirm that it is his irises that are staring hatefully at your joined hands.

"My mother had a headache, so she staid in her chamber. Unfortunately, my father couldn't show up at all. I hope you won't abandon me and leave me so lonely in this barbaric place, my lord?"

"I wouldn't dare do that. I am a gentleman. After all, someone has to catch you if you faint, my lady."

You smile sweetly at him, ignoring the sudden urge to kick him in the crotch for his words. You must maintain the innocent demeanour of a cute, awkward, and sweet noblewoman. Even though you hated it...

"Oh, you don't know how much I appreciate it, my lord." You say, wondering if you should actually pretend to faint and let him catch you. It would be very romantic if he carried you out of the arena in his arms and took you to the medic. Plus, you wouldn't have to watch... Na-Baron's entire performance.

You take your seat in the guest box. The arena shakes with the screams and applause of people who are truly eager for their Na-Baron to shed blood. Lord Luwael hands you the binoculars and gently removes your cloak as you both notice that you are protected from the sun's rays by a special black glass window.

You shiver as the Harkonnen's war drums sound and the announcer says something in their language, announcing Feyd-Rautha's fight.

A blush involuntarily blooms on your cheeks when you see that Na-Baron has decided to fight without a shirt or any armour protecting his chest. You hungrily stare at his muscular torso as he shows off his warrior body, which is decorated with paint—probably their war symbols, bringing good luck in battle.

"A real poseur and playboy. He only does it to attract attention."

"Probably. But you can't say, that it doesn't work, my lord." You say and nod towards the other ladies, who are also staring at the muscular figure of a warrior that Na-Baron proudly displays.

"Does it work for you?"

"I'm just a woman. But I prefer… slightly more hairy men." Lord Luwael chuckles at your comment, giving you a mischievous look. His attention briefly returns to Na-Baron, who lets out a belligerent cry after the murder of the first prisoner. You see him shiver slightly and his eyebrows furrow before his attention returns to you.

"So would I also gain your attention if I appeared… in a similar condition?"

"My lord, you would then have my complete undivided attention." You respond equally flirtatiously. The man sitting next to you hums in appreciation. His hand reaches up to cup your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as he stares at you, entranced.

"You, lady, have my undivided attention at all times and occupy my every thought." Unfortunately, you can't respond to his comment with something as sweet as Na-Baron's angry, painful scream that echoes from the arena.

Your attention returns to the fight. Na-Baron fights the last opponent, who, surprisingly, is not under the influence of drugs. You watch the fight with curiosity, even more so when you see blood pouring from Na-Baron's side.

"He had to distract himself. So far, he hasn't had any problems fighting him." You hear people commenting around you, but your eyes are focused only on Na-Baron.

You shiver as his gaze wanders towards your box, and it feels like he's looking right at you, making sure you're watching him. You put this idea out of your head. He probably didn't even know your name. He couldn't recognise you; he would definitely show it by now if he did.

You shiver as he lets out a menacing scream and charges at his opponent. His movements are quick, well-aimed and aimed as he delivers slashes, perfectly avoiding the blade of the prisoner he is fighting. You hold your breath as he knocks the blade out of your opponent's hands and stabs him in the stomach several times.

Na-Baron whispers something to the warrior and slowly lowers him to the ground as he draws his last breath. You can't take your eyes off his bloody form. His piercing gaze is still directed towards your lodge as he raises his blade. The crowd in the arena screams, people applaud, and you feel Lord Luwael next to you slowly begin to fall to the ground.

"Lord Luwael!" You scream, attracting the attention of the people around you. Several men help you, and they lift the unconscious lord. They carry him outside, and you want to follow them, but unfortunately for you, the second round of Na-Baron's fight begins, so you can't just leave. So you go back to your seat, thinking hard.

Lord Luwael apparently had another negative trait besides being a hopeless romantic—a firm believer in preserving a strictly traditional, patriarchal system. He fainted at the sight of blood and abhorred violence.

You sigh, wondering how the hell you're supposed to cope with a husband and an emperor who's afraid to draw someone's blood and pick up a sword.

Your gaze falls back on the fighting Na-Baron. If only he was less... Harkonnen... You shake your head at the idea that crossed your mind. No. You are going to become the empress. Nothing could change that plan, and certainly not one night of oblivion and pleasure with a brutal, psychopathic future Baron of a dead planet.

But that doesn't stop you from admiring the way Na-Baron's muscular chest ripples with each rapid breath or the way his muscles twitch with his movements. And unfortunately, you can't stop your thoughts from wandering and imagining him moving into a much more... intimate situation.

"Did she watch the fight?" Feyd asks his servant as the medic stitches up his wound.

He finished the fight a few minutes ago. People were probably starting to gather in the ballroom, but he had to clean up and put things in order before he appeared in public. Before he shows himself to you.

"At first, she was a little distracted by this... lord. But he fainted halfway through Na-Baron's fight, so afterwards her attention was entirely on you, my lord."

"He fainted? Weak spawn. Did she enjoy my performance?" Feyd asks, slightly irritated by the way the medic's fingers are shaking with fear as he tends to the wound.

"She was definitely impressed. I think Na-Baron's decision not to wear the breastplate helped, as did the fact that the guards made sure not to let Lord Luwael into the arena again."

"Very good, you did a great job. Keep it up. I'm going to need you to distract that pet of hers for a while. You can do it, right?"

"Of course, my lord Na-Baron."

"Women like flowers. Those outside Giedi Prime." The medic comments as he finishes stitching up his wound. Feyd looks at him for a moment, then nods at his servant.

"This is a wonderful idea. Order a vase of the rarest flower species to be placed in her chambers. I'll give you a note tonight, after the ball."

Before Feyd finishes his sentence, he already holds the medic's arm and plunges a dagger into his stomach. The man groans in shock as he stares in sheer terror at the Na-Baron.

"Because of you, I'll be late for my own ball." He growls and puts on a black shirt, ignoring the blood on his fingers as he walks out of the infirmary.

He walks through the halls of the palace, hurrying to his chambers to change. His thoughts involuntarily go to you, remembering your intoxicating scent and the softness of your skin under his lips. Damn him if he lets some lesser man have the taste of what is his.

You belonged to him from the moment he killed for you the emperor's dog that tried to bite you. If necessary, he will kill another one to make sure that no man will dare to adore you again.

But Feyd couldn't do it; as much as he dreamed of it, he preferred to gain your... feelings rather than force you to marry him. And maybe he enjoyed the thrill of chasing you, but only as long as his claims for you weren't at risk. And this little... lord was hanging around way too close to you.

He didn't know at all what you saw in this weak man. He wasn't handsome, he couldn't fight, and he couldn't defend you. Certainly not before Feyd. You needed someone strong—someone who wasn't afraid of your true nature or unleashing it. You weren't yourself hanging out with that lord. He watched the two of you closely, and countless times he saw you tighten your hand around a glass, a fan, or in a fist when that lord made a remark that irritated you, but instead of snapping back like you did with Feyd, you smiled falsely sweetly and nodded obediently.

His beautiful, brave swan, instead of hissing at the fools around her, only tried harder to attract them. And this annoyed Feyd immensely. You could be so much more than just a pretty face. You had a character that Feyd admired in you, but instead of showing it with pride, you hid it deep inside, afraid of society's opinion.

You would make a wonderful Baroness. With you by his side, he wouldn't worry about anyone seeing him as weak man. And he himself found worthy company in you during that wonderful night on your planet. If only you hadn't run away from him, hadn't believed the rumours so much, and weren't afraid of him, but rather of what he might do to you, you and Feyd would make a wonderful match.

As he approaches his chamber, he hears the ladies giggling. He decides to hide in a side corridor and wait until the gossiping women leave. But he perks up his ear excitedly when he hears what they're talking about—and that you're among them too.

"Na-Baron put on quite a show. Have you seen these muscles?" Feyd can barely keep from giggling. But he can't help but wonder how you assessed his... muscles.

He did it especially for you—to tease you a little with what you could have had that night if you hadn't run away from him like a scared little mouse. How many nights did he spend dreaming about catching you before that frail lord got you...

"Oh please. He's a cruel brute. Psychopath. Did you see how he treated that poor man? Moreover, most of his opponents were under the influence of drugs."

His hairless eyebrows furrow. He feels his rage rising; he wants to come out of his hiding place and show this royal bitch a real fight, but he knows that his uncle will kill him for laying a hand on the emperor's daughter.

"I'm not surprised at him. After all, he's the next Baron, they won't risk his life for some lame arena show."

"What do you think about it, Lady Y/N?"

Feyd licks his lips, eagerly waiting for your opinion on his fight. His heart beats fast as he wonders what you will say. Will you praise his fighting skills? Appearance? Ruthlessness and brutality? Or maybe you loathe it as much as Princess Irulan does?

He waited nervously, his heart beating fast as he waited impatiently for even one word from you.

"I… think we had a rather… interesting fight anyway. Regardless of the circumstances."

His excitement fades when you limit yourself to such a simple, diplomatic, and natural answer. He doesn't want to hear something like that from you. He wants your opinion; he wants to hear the burning heat in your voice as you express your true thoughts and emotions with great conviction, even if they go against what he wants. He wants your passion—the same passion he has experienced the few times he has had the opportunity to be around you.

"But it's not honorable! How dare they treat prisoners like this?" Irulan growls furiously at you.

"And in your country, how are they treated, my princess? They either end up in a noose or have their heads cut off. Here, maybe being under the influence of drugs isn't the best thing, but at least they have a dignified death for warriors—those who don't fight Na-Baron are fighting in the arena for their freedom and are not under the influence of any substance. I don't think this is the case in many countries. Besides, it boosts morale and entertains the people. Two birds with one stone."

Feyd feels a smirk involuntarily form on his lips. He knew that his little, wise swan would think just like he did. However, I regret that you do not praise his skills as a warrior but only focus on the usefulness of such fights. Next time, he will try harder for you. Maybe he will even give you the heart of the strongest warrior?

"Of course you'll flatter him, Lady Y/N. After all, he clearly has his eyes on you. I saw the way he looked at you the day you arrived—it was clearly love at first sight."

"Oh yes! And I saw him looking across the arena towards your box! He got so distracted by looking at you that one of the prisoners stabbed him in the side! It's so sweet, just like a real romance book."

Feyd freezes for a moment. Was it that obvious? He couldn't, right? Maybe he was accidentally looking for you in the crowd of other people, but... he couldn't be that easy to read, right?

"I would never dream of courting Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, not even in your wildest fantasies my ladies. So maybe let's focus on the real, more likely matches that could happen this season."

At your words, Feyd clenches his hands into fists. How dare you so openly reject his possible advances? It was the best match in the empire. In fact, he could be a future emperor, and he'd damn well do it for you if that was all it took to get his hand in marriage. Seething with rage, his hand involuntarily went to the blade attached to his side. He had to find someone; he had to take it out on someone; but then again, he needed to hear more. Why does the thought that he adores you bother you so much? Did he do something to you? Has he offended you in any way? Was it your reluctance and disgust at the idea of having him as a suitor just because he was a Harkonnen?

"You mean your questionable engagement to my cousin?" Princess Irulan mocks you, fueling Feyd's anger both with the way she speaks to you and with your engagement to that weak piece of flesh wasting air in your presence.

"Why questionable, my princess? I think this would be the perfect match. Lady Whistledown herself devoted several of her paragraphs to it."

Feyd rolls his eyes at you. Have you also read the nonsense of some old lady who was bored enough to comment on events in the world of noble families? And here he thought that his swan was too smart for that...

"My cousin may be stupid and be fooled by a few pretty words and eyes, but he doesn't make rash decisions. He knows what kind of marriage will be best for him. He won't marry someone from a lesser family just because some anonymous writer is having fun spreading rumors."

"Do you have someone special for Lord Luwael in your mind, maybe?"

"I think we all know very well who I mean."

Feyd smiles, and for the first time, he is not hating the princess's existence. If she actually took this weak lord from you, the fight for your hand and heart would be much more enjoyable for him; after all, he wouldn't have to worry that you would marry some other man while he was trying his best to get closer to you. It would definitely make courting you easier if Irulan tried to charm your weak little lord...

"Hmm… possible. But tell us, princess, how's your Bene Gesserit training going? Has the Reverend Mother assigned you any task yet?"

"I believe this is none of your business."

Ah, so you knew. You knew that the Bene Gesserit were planning to marry him to Irulan—something he certainly wouldn't allow. But if he lets you believe it, would you fight for him? Would you try to convince him to stop chasing Irulan? You could. After all, you would see it as a threat to your position as empress. Feyd is curious what lengths you would go to if such a situation occurred—how far would you go in trying to seduce him and leave Irulan?

Feyd is no longer eavesdropping on the rest of your conversation. You pass him, and he quickly sneaks back to his chambers, changing his clothes. His mind races as he wonders what he should do now. And he decides to give you one last chance before he puts his plan into action.

The balls at Gieid Prime are… different from those you usually witness. The ballroom is lit by a thousand candles, the room is kept in semi-darkness, and you are more than convinced that some orgy is taking place somewhere in the corners and recesses of this huge hall.

You are just finishing your dance with Lord Luwael when Feyd-Rautha enters the hall. Na-Baron is greeted with loud applause and cheers. He smiles at the crowd of people, showing a row of night-black teeth. You shiver at the sight. You just don't know if it's out of fear or desire. You realise that every time you think he can't make himself a more terrible monster, he comes in like the bane of your existence and proves you dead wrong.

Oh how you wanted to finally leave Giedi Prime.

"Unfortunately, I think we should wish him a happy birthday. Everyone does it."

You nod at his words, seeing the rest of the guests actually gather around Feyd-Rautha. You place your hand in the crook of his arm and let him guide you towards Na-Baron. The alcohol you managed to drink without your companion's attention and the man's mere presence will give you a bit of courage. Although you know, if a real fight broke out between these two men, the candidate for your husband would probably faint from fear when he saw the first blood and lose it. What a pity he had such an annoying condition...

"Na-Baron. Happy birthday." Your companion says as you reach Feyda-Rautha. His blue, ocean-glacial eyes stare at the two of you, ignoring you for a moment to send an appraising glance towards the man whose arm you're holding. You see a strange tension building in the room between these two...

"Thank you very much, lord…"

"Luwael." He finishes for him, angry that he is not properly recognised and acknowledged by the Na-Baron.

"Ah yes. It slipped out of my mind. Wouldn't you be offended if I took the liberty of asking your lovely partner to dance? It's my birthday, after all." Na-Baron's attention is completely on you, and you wish he and Lord Luwael had spent more time on this little alpha male fight. You open your mouth, ready with an excuse to deny him the dance, but the man next to you speaks first.

"Of course. Enjoy yourself." Na-Baron gives him a smug smirk that only widens when Lord Luwael flinches at Feyd's black teeth.

You suppress a grimace and give your hand to the Harkonnen. He takes your hand with incredible gentleness and leads you to the centre of the room, right onto the dance floor. Before the dancing starts, he has the courage to take off your gloves. You give him a confused look, your heart beating faster, as he leans in to press a kiss on your hand. You shiver as the skin of your hand registers the now familiar shape of his plump lips.

He places his hand on your waist and connects your hand with his, leading you to the rhythm of a rather calm song.

"Such fire… and yet your anger does not reach Lord Luwael. What did he do to deserve this special treatment, my lady? Maybe you're worried about him after he fainted in the arena like some weak, little boy?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about." You say, turning your gaze away from him, wanting to spend the rest of the dance in silence. You keep your eyes peeled for Lord Luwael, but unfortunately, you can't find him anywhere. As if he had evaporated.

"Is it so, little swan?" A cold chill runs through you as you use the nickname for you that he used that night. You feel your world freeze for a moment. He continues to lead you in the rhythm of the dance, allowing himself to pull you a little closer to inhale the scent of your perfume, but you don't notice, terrified of what he told you he knew.

"I... no." You blurt out, trying to control your emotions, and put on the mask of indifference on your face again.

"Well... I guess you know. Your heart beats so fast, almost as fast as that night when I tasted your wonderful nectar straight from the source. You know there's nothing as sweet as your juices?"

"How dare you speak to me like that?!" You growl furiously, unconsciously digging your nails into his palm.

"So she can still hiss! And she even has claws. I remember how sweetly you scratched my neck with them before you ran away like a scared little bird."

"Shut up." You growl, feeling like you're starting to lose control of this whole conversation. And not just conversation. You noticed that you had somehow found yourself outside the ballroom. The music from there reaches you in the form of a gentle hum as it presses you against the wall of one of the empty corridors. You swallow, realising what a sh*t situation you are in.

"Or what? Watch your tone, little swan. It's my birthday. You should be nicer to me. I didn't actually hear you wish me a happy birthday; your little puppet did it for you."

"Unlike some, he is a real gentleman, not a puppet or monster."

"Ah, but we know very well that you don't want a gentleman. A gentleman wouldn't do to you the things I did to you, and we both know how deliciously you moaned under my touch and how you shuddered as my tongue tasted you. Do you think your weak lord can do to you the things I showed you in the darkness of your house planet? That he can satisfy your desire? That he can free you from your shackles of social conventions as I can free you? You need someone bigger than the lesser man. I've already told you that. You won't settle for a man like that."

"You do not know anything about me. One night—not even the whole night—spent under my skirts won't suddenly make you know my true desires. You have changed, Feyd-Rautha. You're not the same boy from the Lankiveil I used to know." He hums thoughtfully at your worlds, watching you carefully and curiously.

"Hmm… maybe you're right, little swan. I think I need to do more to convince you that I am right."

You sigh as his lips press against yours in a frenzied, passionate kiss. You punch his chest, trying to push him away, but he presses hard against you, pinning you against the wall. You feel the toned muscles of his body as he grinds against you, demanding full access to your mouth.

You bite his lip until it bleeds, but that only turns him on more. His strong, large hand cups your breast, squeezing it tightly. You let out a surprised moan, and his tongue somehow finds a way to slip into your open mouth.

The material of your dress tears under his strength; his hands pull your breasts out of your dress and caress them as if his life depended on it. His fingers graze over your sensitive nipples, and you can only moan into his mouth as he sends a warmth straight to your core that reminds you desperately of how his tongue was working so well to release you that you had denied yourself.

You come to the shameful conclusion that maybe you could have let him bring you to orgasm before you ran away from him.

His lips finally leave yours, but you don't enjoy this freedom for long. They move to your neck, licking and nibbling madly, as if someone were about to tear him away from you. And the worst thing about it all is that you don't really know if that's what you want.

You scream as his black teeth dig into your skin, leaving a mark in the crook of your neck. You hear the click of enamel against metal as he accidentally catches your necklace, but he doesn't move away; he just sinks his teeth into it, as if trying to split a diamond in half.

He pulls away from you; you see the blood on his plump lips—your blood—and it only makes you more aroused. His hand slips under your skirts and reaches to your core, caressing you teasingly. You gasp, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.

"Such a good little whore when she gets fingers and a few hickeys on her neck. Does your lord know what a shrew you are until someone kisses the venom from your lips? Does he know what fire burns inside you? Does he know what a wonderful feast you have between your legs for a thirsty man? Does he know you as well as I do? Has he seen how beautiful you look in the whirlwind of passion?"

His every question is punctuated by the rhythm of the thrusting of his fingers. You moan softly, holding back tears of pleasure, as he slowly brings you to the edge. You dig your nails into his shoulders, holding onto him with all your strength as he plays with your clit and sucks hickeys on your breasts.

"So sweet… so soft… so wet. And it's for me. Just for me. For Harkonnen. Say it. Tell me who fucks that little pussy so well with his fingers. Tell me who's driving you crazy. Tell me whose attention you really want, you wanton little bitch, and maybe I'll let you cum, despite the way you treated me… and on my own birthday…"

"I... you... you..." You gasp in rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers.

"Nah. Not like that. My name, beautiful little swan. Scream my name. Exactly the way you should have done that night in the garden." He whispers into your ear, biting the lobe. You moan as his fingers go deeper inside you, and his other hand caresses your breast, playing with your nipple.

"I... ah... Feyd.... Feyd, please..." You cry for him as your hips grind against his hand, seeking the sweet release that only he can give you.

"Yes…just like that…cum for me. Give me my birthday present and shout my name." You can only nod dumbly as you feel him take you over the edge. You bite down hard on his neck, refraining from making any noise as you tighten around his fingers, finally coming.

You gasp, feeling the metallic taste of his black blood on your tongue.

You move away from him as if burned. Your heart beats insanely fast as you stare at him, trying to process what happened. He pulls his finger out of you with a squelch, and you blush furiously. He puts his fingers in his mouth, sucking them. He moans at the taste of you, never breaking eye contact with you.

"Perfect birthday gift. Although I believe I can get more." Just as he moves to kneel between your legs, you hear the voices of the guards patrolling the halls. You push him away from you in panic and run forward, trying to improve your appearance a little.

This time, he's not after you. He didn't make any attempt to chase you. He allows you to traverse the halls of Giedi Prime without the feeling of his breath on your back, but you are very aware that you have miserably lost today's battle against him. He did exactly what he wanted with you and would have gone much further (and unfortunately, you would have let him) if you hadn't sobered up with the possibility of getting caught.

You told yourself that this was what you needed to get over him. After all, forbidden fruit always tasted the best, and once you experienced the Na-Baron's... undoubted skills, you could move on and marry a man who was the absolute opposite of him, a man with whom you didn't have to worry so much about the future, as with Feyd-Rautha.

Yes, this was what you needed—one last affair before the wedding—to make sure you're doing it right. Because what would await you as Na-Baron's wife, or, God forbid, concubine? Nothing good. The Harkonnens were the harbinger of misfortune, suffering, pain, aggression, and, apparently, good sex.

Whatever you and Na-Baron were doing, it had to end now.

"I'm supposed to be his wife?! This barbarian?! You can't do this to me, father! Feyd-Rautha will destroy the empire and plunge us into the blood of war and senseless brutality. He's a psychopath; can't you see it? Surely there must be another way to keep the throne!" Irulan's screams echo throughout the guest wing. Your eyes widen in surprise, the unpleasant pang in your chest only adding to your daze.

So the rumours were true. The emperor wants to give Irulan to Feyd. You don't like this idea very much. If the Harkonnens married into the Corrino family, your right to the throne of Emperor, or rather the right of Lord Luwael, would be in jeopardy. No one stood a chance against them.

You snap out of your daze when you see the door handle to Irulan's chambers begin to move. You quickly run to your room and close the door quietly behind you as you wonder what the hell just happened in these few hours.

You return to your chambers blushing and with a rapidly beating heart. You can still feel Na-Baron's lips vividly on your neck, and you're sure you'll have to cover it tomorrow so no one will see the hickeys that bastard gave you.

How stupid you were again! How could you let him get so close to you again and corner you when you were alone in his territory?! And what's worse, he knew that it was you who went with him to the garden that night; he knew and he wanted more from you...

You shudder as wicked thoughts enter your mind, all because of Na-Baron's tantalisingly absurd whispers. How could you enjoy his attack on you? How could you moan so loudly in a deserted corridor? How could you shout his name and attract the attention of the guards?

You were damn lucky that no one caught you, that Lord Luwael disappeared somewhere, and that he didn't see you giving yourself to this... this monster like a mindless whore. It had to be the alcohol. They must have put something in your drink; you couldn't just... enjoy the touch of a Harkonnen, a Harkonnen who just a few hours ago had slaughtered you in the arena before your eyes and was enjoying it like a little child enjoys a candy... A Harkonnen whose body was ethereal beautifully...

You are snapped out of your thoughts when your mother enters your room in a state of… extreme daze.

"Mother? Have something happened?" You ask her, worried that your little (another) tryst with the Na-Baron might have turned out to be not such a secret at all.

"Lord Luwael just asked for my consent to propose to you. You did very well, Y/N. You will be an empress."

You swallow nervously and smile, nodding your head. Your mother hugs you, and you feel millions of thoughts racing through your head. You will become empress, but only if Irulan and Feyd-Rautha don't marry, and there was only one way to make sure that would happen.

You had to play a game with the devil himself and seduce and deceive him until the day it would be too late for his marriage to Irulan and you and Lord Luwael would take the emperor's throne. But how the hell were you supposed to do that without getting burned?

Taglist: @iloved1lfs0 @heartarianagran

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