#sunlight!traverse

[edens-garden]

what's in your garden?

unfortunately, im a charlatan and a sham to my own name. i do not have my own garden

it is my dads

it is also mostly trees and succulents in there but he's teaching me bit by bit how to look after them all

[leilawanderingaround]

Watch me uno reverse Kevin Kaslana on Phainon.

__________

Under the golden thread of Okhema, you dream of Aidonia, of being held in the arms of your god who has long since departed. As a servant blessed by Thanatos, fellow daughter of the river Styx, alike to your sister- Castorice, everything you touch will seemingly rot, destroy and return to the soil be it friends or foes.

Cursed, they said. Blessed, you think. For the moment you stepped foot inside the golden gate of the Mnestia, a gaze has been lingering on you, obsessive, desperate and suffocating. You try to brush it off, the civilian doesn't dare to approach you. You are here to finish your duty as told by the prophecy, you said to yourself. Here, your comfort matters little or nothing at all.

And there you met him, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae- the deliverancer- saviour of Amphoreus- the nameless new king. For one who has been surrounded by darkness in the embrace of Thanatos like you, his smile was as bright as the sun. A sudden emotion crawls up your spine. Your mind becomes blank, your eyes wide, with heels dug into the marble floor and body frozen like stone.

It was almost enough for you to run away in fear of being captive in this endless sunlight city. Like the Titan Kephale has stolen away the breath of freedom that you possessed.

Like any other, he can't touch you. You take it as a small favour from all the suffering you have endured under the guidance of Thanatos. But yet, he still searched for you, seeking you out whenever possible. And you realized that he would not hesitate to lay down his life and many others if it means being able to touch you forever.

"Please wear this, my dear." He placed the box onto the table and looked at you with hope in his eyes. Still you shake your head. Phainon's shoulders slump in defeat, he huffs and pouts but comply nonetheless and stepped back five steps. After seeing that, you carefully go and open the box. Inside was a long cape, made of blue and golden thread almost identical to his.

You wrap the cape over your shoulder on you, still unsure of what this meant. Phainon then raised his hand, one side of the cape lifted itself up and traversed to his side. He gets down on his keen as the cape wraps around his hand and wrist.

The deliverancer then raises the piece of fabric up and kisses it, soft yet passionate as if he were kissing you instead.

"I have asked Aglaea to craft this for you. In this way, they will know that I belong to you." he whispered, closing his eyes, almost in bliss. "Until I find a way to be worthy of your touch, please bear with this, my love."

"Agy, why did you do that? You already know how [Name] is around Snowy right?" Tribbie couldn't help but question the demi-god.

"If you already know the answer then why ask, my dear friend?" Aglaea chuckles. While she does feel rather bad for the young girl, it is her duty to do so.

"Crafted by Thanatos, Chosen by Talanton, she- the left hand of darkness shall enforce all rule on humanity, serving peace by her hands that hold the leash." The Goldweaver mused, reciting the prophecy.

Phainon will not raise his hands against her even when law and freedom stance against one another. But to ensure that he doesn't lift a finger towards Okhema, towards Amphoreus, she needs to be there and be the leash that hold the mad dog back.

"All will be well, my dear" Aglaea quietly said, using the golden thread to pull the blanket over the young girl sleeping figure. "I will need you to play your role a little longer."

[rezwrites]

𝓝𝓸𝓬𝓽𝓮 𝓣𝓲𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓼

Vampire!Rio Vidal x Reader

Word count: 3.3k+

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, consensual non-consent, blood, stalking, knife play/knife-fucking, pervy!rio, choking/breathplay, double-ended strap, classic vampire cliches

a/n: happy halloween!

Stepping into the library, you're greeted by the soft creaking of the wooden floor beneath your feet drowned out by the mellow music that plays in the background, creating a soothing ambiance. Ancient bookshelves tower towards the lofty ceiling, dust particles dancing in the slivers of sunlight that penetrate the stained glass.

You make your way to the cafe ordering your usual coffee, the strong aroma wafting through the air, mingling with the crisp scent of old books.

Scaling the winding staircase, you delve deeper into the labyrinthine corridors of books and tomes, until happening upon your favorite cozy, nook by the window that overlooks the town square. Settling in, cautious not to spill your drink, you surround yourself with the new murder-mystery series you’re ecstatic about. The hours slip by unnoticed as you’re immersed in the numinous atmosphere, unaware to the pair of eyes that occasionally lingered on you.

“Don’t you have any friends to hang out with?” Rio’s smoky voice startled you out of your trance, questioning orbs probing you. She seemingly appeared out of nowhere, wavy, auburn hair fell over her tweed jacket.

“You always ask that, Rio. The answer never changes. I just enjoy reading.” You placed your bookmarked in between the pages, closing your book.

Rio pulls up a chair at the small table, “I know. It’s just that you’re here all the time. Always staying late.”

You narrow your eyes, furrowing your eyebrows at her, ”Well, what about you? You don’t ever seem to take off or anything. Besides, don’t you have other customers to bother?”

“Everyone’s gone home.” she motions to the window behind you. Turning to see the sun long gone, the near full moon high in the sky casting its brilliant glow unto the earth. Looking back at your phone you notice it’s almost 8’oclock. Slipping your books into your bag you gave Rio a sympathetic smile, truly feeling bad for losing track of time and hindering her from closing the library.

You gazed at her as she acts uncharacteristically nervous, shifting from foot to foot. Before you could ask what’s wrong Rio blurted out, “Can I walk you home tonight?”

She hates knowing the fact that you’d rather walk home alone at night than take the bus, you had mentioned something about carbon footprint. While she admires your dedication she anguishes over the idea of harm coming your way. Since you’re always the last one to leave, she closes the library as quickly as possible to watch and make sure you get home safely.

You nodded smiling, grateful for the offer. The library was normally quiet, of course, but as Rio led you through the bookshelves it has a different more eerie, quietness to it. You just chalked it up to the fact that it’s nighttime outside. You waited by the front desk while Rio finished up the rest of her duties, returning to you surprisingly quickly, you noted. Watching the lights go out one by one you clutched your tote bag, the darkness of the library was slightly unpleasant. Before any panic could stir Rio called you over to the front door so she could lock up.

The cool air feels crisp and refreshing against your skin as you both stepped outside. Small puffs of breath flowing into the night each time you exhale. The twinkling stars in the sky seem to shimmer and dance. The night is calm and peaceful, enveloping you in a sense of tranquility. The faint rustling of leaves in the wind carrying the scent of petrichor. The streetlights lit your way as you traverse the suburban roads.

“What book are you on now?” She asked, hands in her pockets as she walked on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street.

“That new murder-mystery series I’ve been telling you about! The bookstore across town had it out just in time for Halloween, I’m already on the second book.” Rio just chuckled at your enthusiastic ramblings, you’ve been raving about this series since late-May.

Rio doesn’t understand why you like Halloween so much. In all her time alive and the countless Halloweens that have passed her she has never grasped it. She just doesn’t understand Halloween, much like how she doesn’t understand why she’s so drawn to you. You were just a regular customer in the beginning, and even though you both built an acquaintance you’re still just a regular person. She tells herself it’s because you’re an easy meal but if you’re such an easy meal then why hasn’t she fed on you yet?

“So, why a librarian?” You inquired

“Quite, mundane. Books make decent weapons.” She laughed before quieting again, “Honestly, books provide a solace no one else can.”

“I get that.” You nodded along, “That’s really why I’m hidden away in the corner all day. My friends all moved to the city a few months ago and even though I just settled into my new job, I still have time on my hands.”

Rio listened intently, holding your front gate open, “Books are great way to lose yourself for a while.”

“Exactly!” You both shared a laugh, coming to a stop at the bottom of your porch steps, “Thanks for walking me home.”

“It’s not a problem.” You bid her a goodnight, fiddling with your keychain trying find your house key. Before you could enter your home she calls out, ”Do you want to go on a date?”

Spinning on your heel, shock evident on your face. Rio’s eyes widened at your shocked expression, clearing her throat, “I mean I might as well close for Halloween. We could watch horror movies all night. What better way to take a break, right?”

“I can make us dinner!” You instantly piped up, so many recipes already swimming in your mind, “it’s the least I could do walking me home.”

“Nothing with garlic, please.” She requests, playing coy. Faking an embarrassed chuckle, “I’m actually allergic.”

Bidding an each other a final goodnight, Rio watches you disappear inside your home. Hearing the click of the lock Rio checks her surroundings, before dipping around the back of your house. The lights in your bedroom already on by the time she crouches in your bushes. Peering through the sheer curtains of your bedroom window Rio watches you undress, noting every curve, dip, and mark on your body. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of mapping your body, it’s her favorite thing since developing this routine over the last month. She knows it’s morally wrong, but when she sees your angelic body she doesn’t dare stop herself from indulging in fantasies.

As you step into the shower Rio’s mind wanders to the thought of her hands roaming your warm body. Images of you shaking in bliss underneath her, arousal clear in your blood as she tastes you dance in her mind. Rio grunts lowly when you emerge from the bathroom instantly turning everything off and crawling into bed, upset she isn’t able to gaze at you a little longer. Rio makes her way home after listening to your breathing slow, confirming you fell asleep.

—

Buzzing with excitement when Thursday finally rolls around, you don’t hesitate to log off of work the second the clock hits four. After queuing up the movies for tonight you dash into the kitchen to get started on dinner and desert.

Rio stands in your walkway, staring at the fake cobwebs hanging from the porch banisters. After knocking she counts the fake spiders in your door wreath as she waits for you to answer the door.

“Hey!” You open the door with a cheerful smile on your face, “come in, come in.”

“All deck out for Halloween I see.” She closes the door behind her taking in all the decorations around your house. Little skeleton animals, pumpkin, and witch decor littered every inch of your living space, “My god, it’s like Halloween threw up in here.”

“I made bloody brownie bites for dessert!” Rio rounded the corner into the kitchen with her eyebrow turned up. Setting the brownies on the rack you turned to her, “Brownies with a little cherry filling. I also found a lasagna recipe that doesn’t have garlic in it.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Rio walked closer to you, the rich smell of tomato sauce and cheese filling the kitchen.

“No. You’re my guest, just sit and relax.” Pulling a chair at the table gesturing her to sit. Setting two glasses of water on the table.

"Are you really wearing plastic fangs right now? They look so realistic!” Taking in her dark makeup noticing the sharp canine teeth poking out.

She took in a sharp breath, holding a hand to her chest in offense. "These are my real teeth! This is just the one time a year nobody freaks out about them!”

You laugh, “Sure, sure.” Fixing two plates you place one in front of her, sitting down. A few minutes of silence passed before you spoke up again, “So do you sleep in a coffin or?”

“No. Ugh, those stupid movies never get vampires right!” She breathed out exasperated. She takes a sip of her water, “Call me crazy but I actually live above the library. There were a few rooms on the third floor, so I decided to renovate them as a living space.”

Cackling you held your stomach as it starts to cramp, “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you living at the library. Your commitment to the vampire character is convincing.” Taking a deep breath you wiped a tear from your eye.

“Dinner was delicious.” Rio complemented, handing you her plate, “How about we skip the movies for right now.”

“What did you want to do instead?” You placed the dishes in the soapy water, grabbing a towel to dry your hands.

“Let’s go for a walk. We can come back and finish the night with the movies.” Rio suggested, pushing her chair back in the table. Agreeing, you grabbed a light jacket before heading out.

—

The streets were alive with costumed children and their parents darting from house to house, colorful outfits glowing in the moonlight. The air was filled with the laughter and excited chatter of eager trick or treaters, blending with the rustle of leaves under their feet. The street lights were off letting the glow of Jack-o'-lanterns illuminating the street, casting eerie shadows on the houses and adding a touch of mystery to the atmosphere. The feeling of anticipation hung in the air.

“I’m sure the werewolves are having fun.” Rio stated, gawking at the large full moon.

“What?” You casted a pointed look at her, “There’s no such thing.”

“You really don’t believe in them? Just werewolves or all monsters?” Her face contorts with confusion. She’s not sure why she’s displeased. The fact that you don’t believe in the supernatural despite all your love for Halloween, and folklore upsets her.

“Like ghosts, spirits, stuff like that yeah, but vampires, werewolves, that’s where it gets tough.” you notice the streets getting quieter the longer you two walked. Rio perked up once you neared the graveyard. Running ahead she pushed open the grand metal gate, creaking as it gave way.

“Why in the world would we go in there?” You freeze on the sidewalk, goosebumps breaking out all over.

“Because it’s spooky,” she teased, bringing her hands up making them into claws. Cackling she turned, already walking onto the grounds. Huffing you followed after her eyes downcast, making sure not to trip over any tree roots protruding from the ground. A knot of dread slowly twisting in your stomach as you traversed the rows of tombstones. Rio gasps turning back towards you, “I hope no zombies wake up while we’re here.”

“That’s not funny.” you admonished, pressing a hand to your chest, attempting to soothe your racing heart. Glancing around, wide eyes darting all over, you hear Rio behind you, “Let’s play hide and seek.”

“What! no.” Turning to find yourself all alone, Rio nowhere in sight. How did she even disappear so quickly and quietly? It suddenly dawned on you how much silence there was, save for the crickets and occasional owl hoots. Shouting her name you searched around for her, quietly apologizing to each headstone you passed. Each passing second fear and anxiety welled up in your chest.

Frantically combing every inch of the graveyard, tears welled in your eyes. Coming to halt you let the tears fall, gathering your scattered thoughts. Fear turning to anger when you heard Rio’s laughter. Glancing up you spot her hanging upside down from a tree branch, your fists balling realizing that she just watched you run around the graveyard like a crazy person. Jaw clenching, you yelled at her, “Get down here, Rio! Stop kidding around!”

Rio stopped laughing, her face deadpanned. Dropping to the ground Rio stared you down, not uttering word as she advanced. Your blood froze when Rio’s eyes turned red, lips curling into a sinister smile, baring sharp fangs. Frozen in place, captivated by her hypnotic gaze. Time seems to slow as Rio leans in, breath brushing against your earlobe, “Your turn to hide.”

Immediately turning tail, you bolted out of the graveyard, your blood-curdling screams filling the air. Your breaths heave, heart pounding against your ribcage as adrenaline courses through your veins. Feet hitting the ground as fast as your body could take you, not caring how people looked at you as you ran past them, you just needed to get home.

Rio watched you run away, laughing to herself as she started the long way to your home. Now that you’ve invited her in your home she can come and go as she pleases. By the time she reached your backyard she was surprised you hadn’t made it home yet. Shimmying a library card under your window, she slides it open. Climbing into your bedroom, she heard the lock of your doors clicking. Cautiously closing your window she slipped behind your door, lying in wait.

Checking to be sure all the windows and doors were locked, drawing all curtains you made your way to your bedroom. Turning your on the bedroom light, you felt the cold steel of a blade on your neck. Rio grabbed you tighter, pressed the blade closer to your throat, her singsong voice floating through your ear, ”I found you.”

The blade of her dagger dangerously glinting in the light, swiftly slashing through your shirt. Peeling off your bra, Rio held you down on the bed. Hand on the middle of your back, wrestling off your pants. Hastily ridding herself of her own clothes Rio was thankful she’d forwent undergarments tonight. Every swing of her strap causing the end inside of her to press against her walls, sending a delicious shiver up her spine.

Flipping you on your back Rio caught both your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. Trailing the knife down your neck and across your collarbones, she stops the knife nicking the skin above your breast. Rio made a series of rushed, small cuts down your torso, the sweet sting of each one increasing the wetness between your thighs.

Rio fixated on blood bubbling up to the surface of your skin. Moaning each time she dipped down, warm tongue lapping at the fresh wounds. Rio’s eyes lit up with enamor as she licked your blood from her lips.

She dragged your panties up pinching your clit, jerking your hips towards her. The pulse in your clit growing stronger as she presses the blunt side of her blade on your bundle of nerves.

“Look at this mess. It’d be too easy to just-” voice trailed off as she gathers your slick on the hilt of her dagger. Head falling back as Rio lines the handle to your entrance. A pleased hum passes your lips as the icy steel stretches you out.

You shiver under Rio’s predatory gaze, her hand moving to cover your neck, lightly squeezing the sides. Head feeling light and fuzzy as she thrusts the hilt inside you, the curve of the handle passing over that soft, spongy spot perfectly. She can feel your pulse fluctuating under her fingertips as she tests the pressure around your throat.

Yelping at the sudden emptiness in your core, you squeaked watching her bury her dagger into your headboard. “Absolutely soaked,” she husked out spreading your juices on her shaft. Holding your panties to the side she inched into you, both of you moaning in unison. Sharply inhaling when Rio sped up, deft fingers squeezing your neck again.

It’s such a power trip she thinks, gazing down on you. Your life is in her hands, but your face shows pure blissed-out pleasure. Releasing her hold on you she uses her thumb to push your head aside. Teeth scraping against your earlobe, “Depraved slut.”

Her hips thrusted at a near inhuman speed, nails digging into her wrists as her gripped tightened. Pussy clenching around Rio’s cock, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at the thought of bruises forming on your throat. She swallows your moans, sneaking her other hand between your bodies, thumbing your clit. Each hard thrust sending electrifying, shockwaves through you, heels digging into her back. The squelching sound of her cock pounding you fills the room, mixing with the filthy moans you’re both emitting.

White spots blotted the edges of your vision, warmth rolling over you in waves. Shrieking, a sharp pain radiating as her teeth pierce your skin. Hearing her sucking on your neck realization hits you like a ton of bricks that Rio wasn’t masquerading as a supernatural creature for the night. Dragging your nails across her back leaving red trails in their wake, a loud moan escaping her. Rio latched on tighter, tasting your delicious blood as you convulse in her arms.

She doesn’t want to let go, wanting to stay in this moment for the rest of her eternity getting drunk off your taste. You weakly try to push her off as she licks at the hot liquid trickling down your neck.

Sucking in a deep breath when she relaxed the hand on your neck, her face remaining buried in your neck. Rio stilled inside you, collapsing on you. Shifting around to get comfortable, feeling the sheets soaked through beneath you. Rio found the way your heartbeat gradually slowed to normal rhythm calming, reveling in the way it grounded her. She felt your chest rise before you spoke up, “I know we talked about the- the sex and everything, but you’re actually a-”

“I tried telling you before.” Rio interjects, voice unusually small.

“I thought you were kidding! I thought you were alluding to your Halloween costume and was just super committed! You’re an actual-,” facepalming yourself, “Oh my god. Am I going to become a vampire?”

“No.” Rio rolled off you as you shot up, eyes bulging as you look at her. She figured you’d be screaming more, freaking out. You opened your mouth to ask another question but she beat you to it, “No, I’m not going to kill you.”

Clamping your mouth shut, you looked away from her, fingers reaching up to feel the puncture wounds she left. Watching you flinch, she propped herself on her elbows, “…Are you alright?” Rio felt more vulnerable with each passing second of thick silence, mentally trying shove herself in a grave. Boring holes in the back of your head, awaiting any form of reaction from you.

Thoughts running a mile a minute, too quick for you to grasp and focus on one. Despite Rio being a vampire she still felt like a haven. It shouldn’t be like this, but it is. Exhilaration, that a creature that’s portrayed as this evil being can deliver you such a cathartic experience. Fear, shame, embarrassment, feelings of the like surrounding the erotic fantasies you have, gone with Rio around. The ache in your neck and core solidified one thing: you wanted this again. The thrill of the chase as you ran home, arousal already forming knowing what awaited you the second you locked your doors. Eventually you straightened up, turning back towards her, an excited grin on your face, “Let’s fuck in the library next year!”

Rio’s eyes darkened, a smirk on her face, “Why wait?”

[unintentionalseductress]

When The Snow Melts

Warnings: MDNI, soft sex, virginity loss, angst, and some spoilers for those who aren't familiar with Zayne's lore. A/n: Curiosity got the best of me. I wasn't playing LaDS when the Master of Fate card came out so I went to YouTube and immediately regretted it. Like can this man not catch a break? He sacrifices himself again? I couldn't leave it, so this me, correcting the wrong. A fix-it fic if you will. Because I need Zayne to win, at least once. Also, since Zayne appears according to how MC perceives him, I do believe he will have aged exactly as she has.

The night is bright, and the small cobbled lane you walk on is lit with lamps. The streets are bustling with life. The feeling of excitement, togetherness, and aromatic food graces the air as you wander closer to the town square. Another festival, similar, yet not similar, to the countless ones you’ve seen with your keen eyes. 

You’d wanted to be in company, maybe see the world when you were young, and the curse that was also a blessing was granted. Your body, now wispy and weathered from the years spent wandering cannot move as quickly as you used to, the ever-reminding aches in your joints, the beginning of arthritis weighing down in your bones. Yet you still had a zest for life. Because what else could you do but seek, and take in everything that life had to offer? How could you not? Because it was the grace of the god that allowed it and the terrible price that was paid for you to experience it.

It had been decades since you had last seen the god. You had traversed as far as you could, carrying your umbrella with the everlasting snow coating it like wool on a freshly birthed lamb. The things you had witnessed! Ships with sails as tall as oak trees, strangely flavored meats and delectable sweets, festivals where people had danced, music from instruments brought in from faraway strange lands. You had eaten, traveled, danced, and sung, picking up small jobs to afford simple pleasures. You were a quick learner. Once you were a seamstress helping a small garment shop, another time a jewel polisher. You had even worked as an errand maid for an elderly couple who were profuse with their thanks and offered you a roof over your head for a short while. But staying in one place wasn’t an option. You had to keep looking after all. How else would you find him again?

As your feet carried you into the square, a burst of light and color filled your vision. It’s so lively, as the people flock to the different food carts, admiring the small handicraft booths, and singing folk songs well known to all those who grew up in this region. Children joyfully chased each other, dressed warmly in bright clothes. A hint of winter was already in the air. Based on what you had observed, this festival was celebrating the end of the harvest season, probably one of the last for this year until the harsh snowfall of winter faded. The breeze, not quite chilly enough to make you shiver, felt comforting on your face. 

You supposed you could work as a midwife again. Midwifery was good work, reliable since winter did not stop the delivery of children into the world. It could also guarantee a place to stay if you played your cards right, though you hated staying in one place. The nomadic lifestyle you had adopted suited you. And the winters made you nostalgic. 

It made you long for those days before you had picked up this umbrella and set off to see the world. Of amber eyes flecked with green, like the jars of whiskey at the inns when the early morning sunlight brushes against them, bringing forth colors hidden in the dark glass. Or of soft hands, covered in scars, and whispers in your ear of sleep, of priestesses calling gods down to earth to make love to them. Sometimes the memories consume you to the point of anger.  How dare he leave you? With no explanation as to what his blessing was. 

You vaguely recall those days, back when your fingers weren’t gnarled and wrinkled, your face unblemished by the years in the sun. All spells have limitations, he had said. But he also said he had taken care to make the spell extra strong since you were particularly clumsy. The snow had to melt sometime…didn’t it?

A drum begins to pound in the distance, and the crowd gathers around the stage that had been set up at the far end of the square. You halt at one of the carts to buy some fried chicken skewers. The vendor looks curiously at your umbrella, something you have grown accustomed to over the years. After all, snow that doesn’t melt was bound to bring questions. You had woven a different story for each city you had passed through, sometimes recycling them when you didn’t have the creativity to spin a new one. Initially hesitant to reveal how the umbrella with the everlasting snow had come into your possession, you had tried to pass it off as a novelty accessory, crafting tales of snowy mountains and how it was all the rage in those areas.

As the years passed by, your tongue had loosened. Or perhaps the indignation of him disappearing had made you reckless. Although you still hadn’t said the full story, you’d managed to finally say it was a blessing from a god, shocking the non-believers by letting them touch the snow, their gasps of awe as the cold, wet, powder clung to their fingers falling satisfyingly on your ears. Tonight, however, you were in no mood to entertain strangers. You smile politely as you hand over your coins to the vendor, take the food, and walk away towards the stage. 

The sounds of a flute and an erhu accompany the drum. Elaborately dressed dancers are swirling in coordinated grace on the stage, enacting a scene from an old tale; the common man sending off the goddess of harvest, thanking her for her blessings that year, and praying to the god of winter, that he be merciful to them and allow them to live to see another spring.

You were skeptical if these rituals really worked. The first autumn after you had been gifted the umbrella when the air started to show signs of change, you had danced, danced amongst the trees that were close to shedding their vividly colored leaves of red, mustard, and yellow. You had prayed your heart out, prayed so hard, danced so long that the soles of your shoes had almost worn out. You had danced till you had collapsed with exhaustion, falling asleep on the leafy floor. You had been so sure that it would work, that he would show himself, and when you awoke, it was with a heartrending pang that you realized you were alone. It hadn’t worked. Wherever he was, the god of the snow wasn’t visible to your eyes. It was the first time you had allowed yourself to cry in all those months. Had he really believed this was the better choice? That to leave you behind without telling you what was going to happen to him would make you happier? That was the worst part; not knowing if he was alive, existing somewhere you couldn’t journey to, or if he had given all his power into making the snow that had fueled your existence, and lost himself with it. 

The music becomes faster and the dancers move until the stage is a blur of color. The audience claps as their movements become sharp, with an artistic precision that only years of practice could hone. The last note quavers from the flute and rises into the night air. Cheers and whistles erupt all around you. It was a beautiful performance no doubt, but despite finding it captivating, it also left you feeling hollow. Finishing the last of your fried chicken, you begin to wander amongst the townspeople, enquiring about work that could be had for the winter.

By the time the square had cleared up, and the last of the festival-goers had returned home, you had secured a job; a bakery was in desperate need of an extra set of hands. The pay wasn’t much but the woman had offered food and board and you had accepted graciously. As you sit on the stone steps of your latest lodgings, you gaze at the moon. 

You want to not blame him, to not feel this heavy weight that you’ve carried inside your chest. You know you should be grateful for his sacrifice which enabled you to see so much of the world, and at the least, you weren’t alone. The incident with the people in your village was a distant memory, replaced with so many more pleasant rememberings. Plucking apples from an orchard with trees growing as far as the eyes could see. The feeling of a newborn baby, screaming with the rage of life and the mother wiping tears of joy while offering you her thanks. The herbalist with his toothless smile as he showed you which plants were medicinal and which were poison as you plucked various flowers and leaves and dug the earth for rhizomes of turmeric and ginger. 

You were a well-traveled woman, knowledgeable in all aspects, a rare luxury during this time, you knew. Yet for each memory that stayed clearly in your mind, there was a sense of loss. Everything tied back to him, and you couldn’t bring yourself to forget him, even in your old age, and even with the passage of time. 

The spicy bun the baker had offered you was good. You savored its flavor on your tongue, naming the constellations visible in the sky as you did so, the short astronomy lesson from a young scholar in some past time proving useful. It must be close to midnight based on how still the night is, the whispering rustle of dead leaves as they skitter across the ground audible in the background. With a sigh, you carefully get to your feet, your joints creaking as you rise. As you reach for your umbrella, you pause, fingertips hovering over the handle.

Surely you were imagining it? It must be a trick of the moonlight. The last of the lamps were dying, the faint light casting shadows across the walls of the dwellings. Yet your aged eyes couldn’t shake off the feeling. You stare intently at the umbrella, more so, at the snow perched on its upper slope. A fine sheen of condensation coated the umbrella, surrounding the powdery snow. Had you somehow gotten the umbrella wet? You kneel, observing with fascination as some of the condensation gathers, becoming fat droplets of precipitation, and rolling off the sides.

You’re awestruck. In all your years, the snow had never melted. It had never lessened nor increased but always stayed the same. But now you can see how the powder was turning watery, steadily dripping down into the cold ground. You trace a fingertip on the trails of moisture along the sides of the umbrella, and that’s when you hear it; the unmistakable twang of a guqin. 

You had never encountered a guqin again, not since the night he had played one while you danced for him. The unmistakable notes now begin to form a melody. You look out into the empty street and see nothing. But the song was filling your body like the warmth of a fireplace. Your limbs involuntarily stretch out as your eyes close, remembering the movements you had learned so long ago and sworn to never repeat after the failed attempt to call down the god. Your legs feel unsteady, your hands clumsy, a far cry from the controlled accuracy of the stage dancers. Your joints begin to sear as you move, unable to stop the actions. Oh how sweetly the instrument sang to you!

There’s a sharp pain in your heart, not from the ache of moving your tired extremities, but from the grief bottled up, adding on year after year. There’s resentment, but underneath it all, there’s a strong yearning you’re unable to put into words. How do you describe it? The loss of the only person who seemed to understand you, who helped you control your power?

You knew he did something when he placed his spell because, since that day, you hadn’t been able to harness your powers ever again. He had ensured you could live your life as a normal human being. Before knowing him you would have done anything to not have the power. But the cost that came with it was too much to bear. You weren’t alone, yet you were alone. So of all the days, why was the guqin playing now?

Tears roll down your cheeks as you dance, letting loose your sorrow to the crisp night breeze. You feel like each nerve in your body is frayed, all consumed with the bits of memories you had of him. It takes you a moment to realize you’re not dancing anymore. The guqin has stopped playing. You’re standing in a pose, your head lowered, facing the steps you had been sitting on, and the umbrella leaning against them. Shock passes through you. 

The umbrella was completely devoid of snow. The only evidence it was there was the puddle of water that had gathered beneath it, muddying the grass. 

“Why are you so surprised?”

Your heart skips a beat, then begins to hammer in your chest like a frantic bird trapped in a cage. The deep baritone voice tinged with a hint of sarcasm calls out to you gently. You can’t seem to be able to move. 

“It can’t be.” You murmur, gripping your elbows, trying to calm yourself. “It can’t be. I’m dreaming.”

“What are dreams if not another reality?”

It takes all the effort in your body to not collapse to the ground as a sobbing mess. You turn slowly, as though giving the voice a chance to admit it was a figment of your imagination but it doesn’t happen. Your breath catches in your throat as you see him, at last.

His dark hair has tinges of gray in it, and crow’s feet are visible near the corners of his eyes, but the gentle upwards curve of his lips, the broad shoulders, and his pointed chin are all recognizably familiar. 

“Zayne?” You let his name fall from your lips, sounding like a strange word, lost to your vocabulary from the years of disuse. 

He nods, then stretches out a hand to you. At first, you’re at a loss about what you should do, then, with as much speed as your wizened knees allow, you run to him. He’s solid and grounding, his arms wrapping around you tightly. A brief lick of rage crosses through you, but when you open your mouth to let loose your diatribe, all that comes out is a sob. Your tears flow freely, staining his robes, and you feel his gloved hands gently combing through your hair.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, his chin resting on top of your head.

“Why not tell me?” Your words are choked, your body shivering as you cry. 

Zayne leads you to the steps and helps you sit before occupying the space next to you. He leans you against him, your head resting comfortably on his shoulder as he takes one of your hands between both of his. He sighs deeply and his voice, though calm, is filled with regret as he speaks. 

“How could I tell you? What would I have said? How do you tell someone special to you that their life was in danger?”

You blink back tears. “Danger?”

“There was a powerful entity after you. I did what I needed to do to protect you.”

“Why was it after me?”

Zayne pauses, as though considering how to word his response. “It was convinced you would bring about a cataclysm, and the only way to prevent it was to take your life.”

“But… I don’t understand. How did your spell prevent this? Now that it’s worn off, won’t it come after me again?”

“No.” Zayne wraps his arms around you, his body bringing warmth into yours. “Even cataclysms go away if given enough time. But the harder part was figuring out how to suppress your abilities until that time passed.” He sighs deeply, gathering you close. “The spell on the umbrella was the only solution I could think of, without restricting your freedom. Regrettably, sealing your power meant taking away your ability to perceive me. I never intended to make it permanent.”

“Why not tell me?” You repeat the question. Zayne raises an eyebrow.

“If I had told you the spell would wear off, would you have left the mountain?” He brushes your cheek with his thumb as he takes in your face, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “I know you. You would have spent all these years in isolation, waiting for me. I didn’t want you to miss the opportunity to live. A normal life seemed like the best option I could give you until enough time had passed.”

You’re silent as you let his words sink into you. After a gap, you whisper, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” His thumb caresses each of your fingertips in turn. “But know that I watched over you every day. I saw the world through your eyes and felt your sense of wonderment in my heart. The day you danced so hard for me that you almost fainted from exhaustion-” Zayne draws in a breath and his voice quivers as he continues. “I was in tears. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort you. I was there, separated by a veil, but I felt your pain.”

“That was the year the frost came early.” You recall the memory. 

“Indeed. I couldn’t control my grief. I didn’t know how else to let you know I was there, except to cover the world with snow.”

You glance over at the umbrella. “Will you disappear again?”

“Not unless you want me to.” One of his large hands rests on your knee. “I understand I’ve angered you by acting without telling you everything. Is it enough that you don’t want me around?”

You shake your head no. Your momentary anger with him had faded, like the night giving way to the sunrise. “There’s nothing that could keep me from wanting you. I made many acquaintances throughout my life, but the one person’s companionship I yearned for was yours.”

“My beloved snowflake.” Zayne embraces you tenderly. “It was fate that led you to me on the mountain that day. And It was fate that finally broke the spell. We’re all bound by it, even me.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. Otherwise, do you think I would have kept you sealed for so long? Even gods must play by fate’s rules.”

Silence falls between you both,  the breeze ruffling your clothes. You become acutely aware that he’s gazing at you, and when you turn to look at him, there’s such tenderness in his eyes that it makes you blush, even at this age. 

“You’re beautiful,” he utters, tucking strands of stray hair behind your ears. The amber in his eyes glows as you stare back, captivated by how handsome he is. Your memory didn’t do him justice. You cup his cheek. 

“Is this our happily ever after?”

“It can be if we choose it to be.”

“I do. Wholeheartedly.”

Sparks fly between you and almost as if the both of you are following a rhythm, your lips find each other in the darkness. It’s odd because, in the passing years, you hadn’t imagined what his lips would feel like against yours. You had fantasized about lying next to him, listening to his heartbeat, about taking long, leisurely strolls while holding hands, and about the possibility of letting him rest on your lap while you played with his thick locks of hair.

Now you’re glad you hadn’t tried to imagine it because the reality was sweeter than any dream you could have conjured, the warmth and softness of his mouth, the taste of his tongue as it slips past your lips, the possessiveness in his grip as he molds your body against his, as though silently claiming you. There wasn’t an inch of you that didn’t ache for him. When he pulls away, there’s desire flickering in the depths of his eyes.

Wordlessly, you take his hands and get to your feet, quietly pulling him inside your new quarters. You’re careful to not wake the baker; it was quite improper to invite a man into your room, but you didn’t care. You lock the door and allow Zayne to sweep you away.

Clothes slide to the floor, a whisper lost to the dark. There’s no shame as you reach for each other, hands relishing the feeling of skin, enjoying the contact between your bodies as he gently pulls you onto the bed. His lips leave trailing kisses on your skin, no longer supple like the young woman you once were, but worthy of being worshipped irrespective. You wonder if this moment would have felt different if you had consummated this relationship when you were younger but realized you had little choice in it. If the Master of Fate couldn’t control when things happened, then what good was it to think about what could have been?

Instead, you focus on him, on his skin flushed with vitality as you nibble his ear, shyly running your tongue down his neck. He suckles at your nipple, and pleasure, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced radiates into every part of your being. You feel his erection graze your belly as he patiently kisses you, moaning into his mouth as his fingers stroke your sex, finding the little knot of nerves that makes you close your eyes in ecstasy.

It’s all slow and unhurried, and when you finally gasp out your climax, he eases his body into yours. There’s pain, but only for the briefest moment, then as your body stretches around him, you feel a powerful sense of intimacy as he thrusts, his movements passionate and loving. He gathers you tightly against him whispering the same thing over and over as he empties himself. 

“I love you. I love you I love you I love you.”

A weak ray of sunlight peeks through the window when you wake up, and you panic for a moment when you see the bed is empty. 

“I’m here my love.” Zayne’s voice immediately reassures you and you see him stoking the fireplace. The small flames crackle merrily as he makes his way back to bed, pulling you against him and stroking your skin. It had snowed overnight, and the landscape was now unrecognizable, covered in a fresh coat of it. 

“It appears grief isn’t the only thing that can cause the god of winter to make it snow,” you tease and Zayne good-naturedly smirks at you. 

“Indeed. All thanks to you.” 

You giggle, a soft sound that fills him with joy. 

“I suppose we’re stuck in this village until winter ends. Makes no sense to wander for now.”

“Agreed. I suppose I can set up shop as a fortune-teller, or maybe as a herbalist.”

“We’ll decide what to do when spring comes.” You settle against his chest, finding comfort in the scent of his skin. 

“The snow has to melt sometime. But we’ll survive. Together.”

“Together.” You agree, and lay your lips over his. 

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating support banner by @/ cafekitsune

@theimmortalbuns @otomegamesforlife @sweets-kozume @supernaturalbaesduh @ladyparamount

[staylovesmiley]

Give Me Your TMI ~ Chapter 1

₊˚⊹ᰔ Pairing; Yang Jeongin x Fem!reader, Stray kids x Fem!reader

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Summary; In a world where Humans and Hybrids should be living as equals, Hybrids are still viewed as being closer to their animalistic side than their humanistic. Deep in the woods lives a band of misfit hybrids who reject these societal views and keep to themselves, choosing to live away from humans. What happens when the youngest of this rogue group meets a lost Human girl, befriending her after an incident where he must rely on her for help?

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Warnings; hybrid!au, female!reader, angst, mild violence, mentions of sexual harassment/assault and discrimination, mentions of starvation (not purposeful but due to lack of food), she/her pronouns used for reader, this is very loosely based off the overall themes/tones of the manga and anime fruits basket~

The afternoon sunlight shown through the trees, the late summer breeze blowing gently through his fur as Jeongin rushed through the dense wooded area after the scent of an intruder in their territory. He first caught a wiff of the human wandering in their forest while doing his routine patrol of the area, ears standing up straight as he listened for any noise to indicate where they may be. Once he locked onto the scent better he took off immediately, not giving a second thought to go back and alert the others before jumping into action.

After running for what felt like forever he finally caught up to the source of the foreign smell. Through the trees the fox hybrid could see a girl, looking far too out of place in the large wooded area in a light blue sundress and white socks with lace trim peeking above the tops of her sneakers. Jeongin eyed her curiously from afar, watching as she stumbled her way over fallen branches and briar bushes. She looked hopelessly lost and when she finally turned so that he was able to see her face he could make out the faint traces of tears reflected in the sunlight.

Pretty, he thought, smiling to himself in his head as he continued to watch her struggle for a moment before shaking himself out of his thoughts and making his presence known by stepping out into her view. The poor girl jumped back at the sight of him before freezing completely, eyes wide with fear as she locked eyes with the seemingly normal fox in front of her. “Shit- oh god what do I do? Do I back away slowly or make myself look big and loud?” She wondered aloud, causing the fox to chirp with amusement. Silly girl, that’s for a bear, he thought to himself before stepping forward and letting out a small trill from the back of his throat. “O-Okay, fuck- do I run? Oh god…please don’t hurt me-“ She whimpered, taking a hesitant step backwards. Taking pity on the pretty girl Jeongin nodded his head towards the left, slowly turning to face that direction before looking behind him to see if she understood what he wanted of her.

Cautiously, she tilted her head before speaking up. “Do you want me to follow you?” She asked causing the fox to let out another chirp and turn back to begin walking in the direction he wanted her to go. Silently she followed, trying to both watch her footing to not trip while also keeping an eye on him so she didn’t lose him. Eventually Jeongin came to a stop at the end of the tree line, and if she hadn’t looked back up in time she may have bumped into his tail not having realized just how close she had gotten to the beautiful creature. “Oh- sorry…where did you…” Before she could finish her question, the hybrid dashed off further into the trees leaving her standing all alone at the edge of the forest. “Huh?” She turned back to where the fox had been just moments before and saw that he had lead her to a long dirt road. She wasn’t sure where it lead, but she was thankful to be in some sort of clearing as it would be much easier to traverse than the dense woods she had been lost in. “Thank you Mr. Fox!” She shouted back into the trees before stepping out onto the road and beginning to maker her way to wherever it would lead.

At her thanks, Jeongin felt pride swell in his chest and with a little nod in her direction, though she wouldn’t be able to see him, he began making his way back home.

Once back at the cabin, Jeongin shifted into his human form, naked as the day he was born before picking up his clothes from where he left them before his patrol at the edge of the clearing that was their home. “Ayen! How did your patrol go?” Seungmin asked cheerfully as he made his way towards the other hybrid from where he had been working in the garden. His velvety brown ears flopped lightly as he jogged up towards the younger, tail wagging lightly behind him until he got close enough to smell the scent of a human on him. “Jeongin? Why do you smell like a human?” He questioned, fear evident in his face as he looked over the fox hybrid carefully for any injuries.

“Hyung it’s nothing, I’m alright. But there was a girl in our woods.” He said the last bit cautiously, though he was attempting for a nonchalant tone. “A girl?!” The beagle hybrid screeched, eyes going wide. “Yeah, a girl. She was lost or something- not a threat. I lead her back to the road.” Seungmin shook his head, arms crossing over his chest. “How do you know she’s not a threat? What was she even doing all the way out here? We are like- miles and miles away from the nearest town and there are no other houses in the area for her to be able to walk all the way here to get lost in the first place.”

The fox scoffed, pushing past the older hybrid on his way towards the house once fully dressed. “Calm down, hyung. Trust me she was more scared of me. Thought I was a regular old fox, we’re fine.” The puppy didn’t back down, though his tone shifted as a smirk broke out on his face. “She was cute, wasn’t she.” Jeongin froze mid step, not daring to look behind him or else his face would give it away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The older laughed, walking towards the younger slowly at first. “I don’t hear you denying it.” And with that the beagle took off in a sprint towards the cabin. “GUYS! INNIE HAS A GIIIRRLLLFRIEND!!!” He shouted, letting out a bark to alert the others.

With eyes gone wide, the younger hybrid took off after him towards the house. “Seungmin stop! It’s not- I was just getting her out of our woods!!” He cursed under his breath as he finally reached the front steps of the porch where Seungmin was now standing beside a very disappointed looking wolf hybrid.

Chan stood with arms crossed over his chest, large black ears standing tall at the top of his head and tail flicking with his displeasure. “Jeongin, care to explain?” Seungmin wore a triumphant smirk, chest puffed up as he looked at the younger from his place beside the oldest. “I- when I was doing my patrol I smelled a human, so I went to see where it was coming from…” Chan frowned, raising an eyebrow at the youngest member of their little family. “Without telling any of us first?” The fox pouted, looking away as he felt the piercing gaze of the older hybrid to be too much to look at directly. “I got ahead of myself, I know…I’m sorry. But she’s gone now!” “She?”

Jeongin gulped, throat feeling a bit tight at being put in the hot seat like this. “It was just some girl, she was clearly lost. She wasn’t even dressed like she was ready to be in the woods and she had- she was crying-“ he tried to defend his actions, hands balled into fists at his sides. “You risked getting caught, getting us all caught, because a girl was crying?” Chan huffed and Seungmin rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t just leave her there! What if she got too close and found the house? Found all of us?” The younger pleaded, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “I stayed in my fox form the whole time- she didn’t even know I was a hybrid. She probably thought I was gonna eat her or something…but she’s gone, I lead her back to the road so she can go home.”

Chan stood in silence for a moment, watching the youngest carefully before nodding his head. “Alright, I’ll let it slide this time. But if this ever happens again you tell us immediately. Got it?” Jeongin nodded, his fluffy red tail swaying slowly and his ears pressed flat to his head sorrowfully. “Yes, hyung…”

It had been two weeks since the first time he saw her, doing his normal patrol of their territory. The pretty girl in the blue dress had become a distant memory in the back of his mind as he hadn’t seen or smelled any trace of her since. As he walked around the forest he began to notice something different, little strips of what looked to be fabric and ribbon tied to trees roughly every ten to fifteen feet.

Jeongin was in his fox form, as he always was during patrol, so the markers were a few feet high from his head. As he was inspecting the fabric his ears twitched at the sound of a twig snapping not too far away and that familiar scent was nearby. She was back. The hybrid followed the scent until he caught sight of her, this time dressed in a pair of tan shorts that stopped a little higher than her mid thigh and a light pink top with little daisies embroidered all over it. He stood and admired her from a far for a moment, watching as she tied a small ribbon around the thinner trunk of a pine tree before beginning to move onward. So that was who was behind the strange markers, what was she doing? He wondered to himself before following after her with a little chirp to get her attention.

The girl startled, hand held to her chest when she turned to see it was just him. “Oh, Mr. fox it’s just you-“ a giggle left her lips and Jeongin thought briefly that it was one of the most lovely sounds he had ever heard before shifting his attention to the question of why she was back in their forest. Assuming she was lost again, the fox nodded once again for her to follow him and seemingly without question she did just that. As the two walked, the girl began to speak softly. He wasn’t sure if she was just speaking to herself at first until she addressed him directly. “What do you think, Mr. fox?” Shit, he hadn’t been paying attention to her words. Jeongin nodded regardless, not like he could give anything more of a response in this form anyways so she didn’t need to know he hadn’t been listening. The smile that small gesture brought to her face caused the hybrid to falter a bit in his step and almost trip over his front paws.

Once he had lead her back to the edge of the forest where the same dirt road was from the last time he had seen her, the fox this time stayed there to watch and make sure she left.

He wasn’t sure why she was there, how she got there, of why she was tying things to the trees, but he didn’t want her to get caught by any of the others who most likely wouldn’t be as kind to her as he was. As he stood waiting for her to leave, she suddenly crouched down to his level and began reaching out her hand towards him.

Panic set in and his fur stood on end. Just before she could make contact with his fur the fox pounced, knocking the girl onto her back on the forest floor. Jeongin growled, teeth bared at her and his ears flat to his head as he stood on her torso to keep her down.

As soon as he had growled the girl let out a scream, tears flowing from her eyes as she began to sob. “P-Please don’t hurt me-“ she begged, though to her this was just some normal fox who couldn’t understand her cries. Luckily for her this was no normal fox, and the sight of her tears caused the hybrid to freeze up before quickly pulling away and darting through the woods.

He couldn’t believe himself, almost hurting her like that. She wasn’t a threat, or at least it didn’t seem like it. At the feeling of hatred towards such an animalistic act he felt himself shifting into his human form while the echoing of her cries could still be heard for a moment until he finally broke through into the clearing. Thankfully no one was around to see him as he fell to the ground as sobs of his own slipped out though he tried to fight them, his heart racing and his stomach turning causing him to feel ill. Lashing out like that at just the proximity, he was only proving the humans right that hybrids were no better than any regular animal. Animalistic, wild, feral- words he had been called before echoed in his mind causing him to scream to try and drown them out.

Jeongin hadn’t realized he was screaming until his throat began to feel sore and Hyunjin was running from the house with Felix and Changbin close behind. The ferret hybrid’s strong arms wrapped around him, pulling their youngest to his chest as he began rocking him carefully. “Innie, baby it’s okay. You’re safe.” Hyunjin spoke softly, nuzzling his cheek into the fox hybrid’s hair causing his ears to twitch and flatten to his head as he slowly calmed down. “What happened, ayen?” Changbin asked from over the ferret’s shoulder.

“The- the girl…she was in the woods again-“ the three older hybrid’s eyes went wide but before they could say anything Jeongin continued.

“I know Chan hyung said to tell him if I saw her again or the next time a human was in the forest but- but I don’t know-“ he was still trying to catch his breath, still clinging to the older hybrid who held him close. “I don’t think she’s a threat- she’s so…odd- but she tried to pet me and I almost attacked her.” He began crying again without realizing it, much softer this time. “I’m no better than the animal they said I was-“ he said softly, hiding his face in Hyunjin’s shoulder as Felix came to wrap his arms around him from his other side. “Please don’t tell Chan hyung- I don’t want to upset him I didn’t mean to it just happened so fast and I wanted to make sure she wasn’t lost anymore. She seems a little clumsy-“

Felix cooed at the fox and pet his hair gently. “We won’t tell Chris, Innie…but please next time come get us. Even if you don’t think she’s a threat, we don’t want something like this to happen again.” The younger nodded, staying in their arms for a while longer before allowing the others to lead him inside and help him clean up where branches and briars had scratched his skin from running through the woods completely undressed after shifting.

While sitting in the bath, Felix kneeling beside him and helping clean the small wounds he had procured, Jeongin could see her face washed in fear in the back of his mind and couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of guilt that surrounded him and threatened to swallow him whole as he heard her cries clear as day still even now miles from where he left her laying on the forest floor. He hoped she was okay.

It had been another two weeks since he had almost attacked the lost girl in their woods and Jeongin had been hesitant to go alone on patrol ever since, always having one of his hyungs accompany him whenever he had to go out into the woods. After a while he began to relax, not having run into her in so long made him feel he had successfully scared her away from ever entering the woods again.

Feeling this new sense of peace, he finally felt like it was okay to go on patrols alone again and after a long day of running around the dense forest Jeongin felt as if he could use a drink. The fox hybrid made his way to the river not far from the cabin, the smell of the damp earth and the sound of running water letting him know he was almost there.

Just as he got to the tree line however, there she was deep in the water.

She was submerged up to her shoulders but from the bare skin he could see and the neatly folded stack of clothes sitting on a nearby rock, the hybrid could only assume the girl before him was naked beneath the slow roll of the rivers stream. His thoughts were confirmed as not long after he had arrived she slowly rose from the water and the late afternoon sunlight hit her glistening skin. If he was not in his fox form Jeongin’s jaw would have been dropped comically wide as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the soft curves of her body as she made her way back to the shore.

He had never seen a feminine body before, having been kept separate from the female hybrids at the center he was raised and never having had an owner let alone a female one. Her body fascinated him, but also lit a fire inside his chest that would have caused a bright blush to spread across his cheeks if he were not in his fox form.

As she made her way back to her clothes, the girl picked up a dark colored towel and began to dry her hair until she suddenly caught sight of where Jeongin was hiding in the tree line. “Mr. Fox?” She asked cautiously, though there was no fear in her tone or expression, only curiosity. As if to answer her, Jeongin slowly stepped forward from the trees and made himself known fully, sitting down by the rock where her clothes remained in the perfectly folded stack.

A soft smile spread across her lips before she resumed drying off her hair before moving to the rest of her body. “I’m sorry I scared you the other day.” She said after she set the towel back down on the rock, starting to get dressed carefully. She’s apologizing? For scaring him? The hybrid tilted his head curiously as he watched her, letting out a little whimpering sound as he tried to show his confusion. He was sure it should be him who was apologizing for scaring her. “I know you probably don’t see a lot of people all the way out here…I was just- you have been so sweet to me so I wanted to thank you some how.” She tried to explain, as if a wild fox could understand her words. Thats all he was to her, after all. There was no way she would know he was a hybrid and could understand everything she said to him, still she continued. “I never had any kind of pets but my- um…a friend of mine had a dog once and he always liked to be pet when he did good.” He let out a little chirp at the fact that she assumed a wild animal would accept the same affection a house pet would. Her hesitance in her choice of words caused Jeongin to wonder what it was she was originally going to say, but he would have to take whatever information she would give him as there was no way he could reveal his status as a hybrid to her.

Now fully dressed, the girl took a seat on the rock and looked off to the water. He took in her appearance again, how peaceful she looked before he noticed the twinge of sadness in her eyes. Before he was even processing his movements, Jeongin was climbing onto the rock beside her and laying down at her side. At the feeling of soft fur brushing against her bare thigh she startled a bit, relaxing when she looked down to see he was curled up peacefully at her side. “Mr. fox…c-could I?” She spoke softly, hesitantly lifting her hand though she kept it to herself until he gave indication that her touch was allowed.

Silently, the hybrid lifted his head until the palm of her hand was pressed lightly against the spot between his ears.

There it was again, that giggle that was music to his ears. As the girl began to pet him gently, giving a few scratches behind his ears, Jeongin felt himself melting into her side while content little whimpers escaping him occasionally. They sat like that as the sun began to set, but just before it dipped completely below the horizon she rose from her seat. “I better get back before it’s too dark. Thank you for coming to see me again, Mr. fox.” With that she bid him farewell and left Jeongin sitting against the rock with his brain a little hazy from the affection he had received. Once she was gone from sight he realized he probably reeked of her scent and his hyungs would know he had seen her again. Changbin, Hyunjin, and Felix had kept to their word and hadn’t told Chan about the last time but after the way her soft hand had carded through his fur for what felt like hours there would be no way to hide it from him or the others. The would know the second he stepped into the clearing.

In an attempt to cleanse himself of any trace of her, Jeongin looked around to be sure she was really gone before shifting and taking a dip into the river. Fully submerging himself, the hybrid swam around for a while to make sure there would be no way to smell the lost girl’s scent on him when he returned home.

Fortunately for him this had worked and the only questions he received once back in the cabin was as to why he was soaking wet. He made up a simple lie that he had gotten too hot while on patrol and went for a swim, effectively getting his hyungs off his back for the most part though Changbin had chastised him that it was getting too close to autumn and he could catch a cold if not careful.

The youngest apologized for not thinking of his health, promising not to do it again as he went to take a proper bath just to scrub his skin raw with every scented product in the bathroom and make extra sure that there was no way they would ever find out about his latest encounter with his new secret friend.

Two weeks since the meeting at the river, Jeongin made it a habit of running into the pretty girl. She never introduced herself, or talked about why she was always in their forest, but she would tell him stories from a book she started bringing to the river where they started meeting at the end of every day just before the sun would set. The hybrid would rest his head on her thigh to soak up the warmth there and she carded her fingers through his fur as she read aloud to him.

Jeongin always made sure to take a dip in the water after she left, washing away her scent to keep their meetings secret from his hyungs who undoubtedly would not approve of his new friendship with a human.

It was a normal day on patrol for the fox hybrid, keeping watch of their beloved forest. He felt the slowly chilling early autumn breeze brush around his fur as he walked leisurely through the trees, thinking of what stories he may get to hear from the pretty girl later that afternoon when suddenly a sharp pain shot through his left leg and the loud sound of metal clinking together rang in his ears.

In his distracted state of mind the hybrid had completely missed the bear trap in his path, stepping right on it causing the metal teeth to pierce his flesh and blood to slowly begin trickling down to his paw and the dirt and leave covered ground.

Jeongin was too far from the cabin, and the older hybrids that were on patrol were in areas of the forest too far to hear his cries for help. Those who had chores at the cabin did not have as good of hearing as he, Chan, and Seungmin. He was truly and helpless fucked. The pain was searing and he felt like he could faint but he forced himself to stay together and let out a loud howl hoping that someone would hear him and come to his rescue.

Fortunately for the hybrid, his human friend happened to be walking near by when she began to hear the sound of not too distant fox cries. “That can’t be-“ she whispered to herself, turning in the direction of the sound before she heard it again. The sound was strangled, desperate, and it caused her nerves to stand on edge before she took off running in the same direction. Low hanging branches and thorns tore at her skin with the speed she was running to get to her precious Mr. fox, as she so affectionately called the hybrid. Once she spotted the sight of his orange fur she began to relax, until she noticed the state he was in and her panic kicked into overdrive.

As soon as she was by his side the girl dropped to her knees, hands hovering over the trap with hesitation. “Oh- oh this is bad-“ She mumbled to herself, trying to see how to release Jeongin from the trap. “O-Okay…I’m gonna try and pry it open, then you pull your leg out okay?” She explained, voice shaking though she tried to stay calm. The hybrid nodded to her, braving himself to move quickly once she got the trap open. The girl took a deep breath, holding it as she placed both hands on each side of the trap and began pulling them apart with all of her strength.

As soon as he felt the metal teeth leave his flesh the hybrid pulled his leg free and let himself fall to the forest floor with a whine. The girl let go of the trap once she saw he was free, pulling her hands back quickly as to not get stuck herself. “Okay okay- uh- shit this is bad, you’re bleeding a lot-“ rambling once more, she began looking around the forest then back to the fox laying before her. Before she could overthink things, her arms were wrapping around the fox and cradling him against her chest as she stood and began running back through the woods the way she came. Jeongin felt himself going in and out of consciousness as he used the pretty human girl’s scent to ground himself in reality as best he could.

After a while the pair came to a clearing, much smaller than the one where the cabin was, with a simple camping set up. There was a small tent, only big enough for maybe two people, a small ring of rocks where ashes remained from what he assumed was a fire probably the night before, two folding chairs, and a few plastic bins stacked neatly beside the tent. Jeongin took in the small space curiously, trying to distract himself from the pain as she laid his nearly limp body in one of the chairs before digging around in the bins for something. “I know there is a first aid kit in here somewhere-“ she huffed out, still out of breath from how fast she had run to get them there before he bled out anymore. “Ahah!” She shouted triumphantly, producing a roll of bandages. Quickly, she retuned to his side and began using a small bottle of water to clean his wounds before bandaging them tightly.

She looked rough, now that he could see her fully and give her his full attention, he could see that her hair was falling out of the braid she had pulled it back into and there was tiny cuts and scrapes littering her exposed skin. Her clothing was stained with dirt and his own blood from where she had carried him there. “Alright, all patched up.” She said with a soft smile effectively warming his insides with the gesture. The hybrid looked down at her handwork and smiled in his head. She did a pretty good job for someone who seemed to be clueless most of the time. “Let’s get you back, yeah? I’m sure you’ll wanna go back to your den and get some rest after this…wait- do foxes live in dens or caves?” There was his clueless girl. Jeongin wished he could talk to her, tell her all the things he had to keep to himself in his fox form, properly introduce himself to her so she didn’t have to always call him Mr. fox…In his head he let out a sigh, resting his head on his uninjured right leg before he was suddenly scooped back up into her arms.

The young hybrid chirped, a small purring sound erupting from his chest and she held him snuggly against her soft chest. “I’m gonna bring you back as far as I can remember seeing you, okay? I think your home should be nearby. Think you can get there on your own after that?” Jeongin nodded a bit, though he worried she may try to follow him to make sure he was okay and end up finding the cabin…and the others finding her. After a long walk through the densely wooded area, the girl set him down and gave a soft kiss to the top of his head. Oh- she had never done that before. “Get home safely, please…and come see me when you are better so I don’t worry too much.” She said with a slight teasing lilt in her voice. Jeongin gave her a nod before turning and limping his way back to the clearing.

Once he was past the tree line he looked back to make sure she hadn’t followed, shifting back into his human form and letting out an almost blood curdling scream as the bandages she had placed on his much smaller fox leg now ripped apart and fell to the soft grass of the clearing. At the sound of his scream Minho and Jisung were racing out of the cabin and to his side. Upon seeing his injuries Jisung gasped and a hand shot to cover his mouth while Minho jumped into action much like the girl had, though his movements were much more confident whereas hers were more hesitant. “What happened to you??” Jisung questioned from over the cat hybrid’s shoulder. “Bear trap- at least now it’s been trigged this won’t happen again.” He tried to joke, laughing pathetically at the attempt as Minho scooped him up in his arms and began carrying him back to the cabin while Jisung brought his clothes.

The sight that greeted Chan and Seungmin when the both arrived home from their own patrols was their youngest laid out on their kitchen table, still shirtless though he was dressed from the waist down, pain etched into his face as Minho worked carefully to stitch up the nasty gashes on his arm. Felix assisted the older, wiping away any blood that blocked his path with a warm wet cloth as Han, Hyunjin, and Changbin waited anxiously from the other side of the kitchen as to still show support but not catch a glimpse of the somewhat gory scene. “What the hell happened.” Chan said, the oldest at Jeongin’s free side in an instant while Seungmin was quick to join Felix in helping keep things as sterile as possible.

“Hyung i-it’s fine-“ Jeongin spoke through gritted teeth, wincing as the cat hybrid laid yet another stitch. “It sure as hell doesn’t look fine.” His disapproving frown was so evident in his voice that the younger hybrid didn’t even need to look up to see it. “Chris- can we talk about it after he’s all patched up?” Felix pleading voice called out to the wolf hybrid causing him to sigh and nod in agreement. “Alright, yeah. Later, though. I want a full explanation, no excuses.” With that the oldest went off to clean up and try and distract himself from the youngest’s painful whimpers.

Once Jeongin was successfully stitched back together and bandaged properly to fit his human form, he was sat on the couch in front of a very disappointed wolf hybrid who’s arms were crossed firmly over his broad chest. Hyunjin was glued to the younger’s side, nuzzling up next to him for comfort as the fox in question had his gaze downturned to his lap. “So you were continuing to see this human after i specifically told you not to, and to get us if you ever saw her again?” Chan’s voice was stern, eye brow raising to show he expected an answer after Jeongin had finished telling them the story of his secret friend, how he had come to be injured, and how she had saved him and attempted to treat his wounds. “I’m sorry hyung….she just- she’s different, I just know. I can feel it.” The older scoffed, looking to the side before turning back to the younger. “You only say that now. How do you know she doesn’t just want something from you, hm?” His skepticism and distrust for humans caused Jeongin to frown himself. He knew very well why the head of their little family had so much distain for humankind, and he didn’t blame him for harboring such a bias against them. The fix himself had a very tainted past at the hands of many humans at the facility he was raised, it’s why he had to escape.

“She’s probably trying to gain your trust now so she can use it against you later.” The fox hybrids ears twitched atop his head as he allowed the older to scold him for his actions and his carelessness. “But she wouldn’t-“ he started to say, feeling a deep seated need to defend his friend. “I don’t want you going out on patrol from now on. Hyunjin will take your place.” Chan said finally, cutting off the younger hybrid whose head snapped up at the order. “You can’t- that’s so unfair! Channie hyung she saved my life-“ A low growl echoed through the room effectively silencing the fox, though he glared up at the older hybrid defiantly. “You showed me that you cannot listen to orders, Ayen. I don’t give orders for the hell of it, I do it to protect you. All of you. If you can’t listen then you are putting yourself and all of us at risk.”

Jeongin let out a whimper, choosing to burying his face in the nape of Hyunjin’s neck and let out a choked sob in lieu of an answer. The ferret hybrid held him close, rubbing his back in soothing circles as he gave Chan a look. The wolf shook his head dismissively before heading towards his room at the back of the cabin. Felix chased after him, a look of pity in his soft brown eyes. “You could have gone easier on him, Chris…I get that he didn’t listen but she hasn’t given him any reason not to trust her this far-“ Chan let out another growl causing the cat hybrid to take a step back from him. “Drop it, Lix. I’ve made up my mind. If any of you see that human around you let me know, I will take care of it.” There was an edge to his tone that made the hair stand up at the back of his neck, the younger hybrid only nodding in under before heading back to help comfort their youngest.

It had been so long since he had seen her last, the fox hybrid found it hard to believe it had been only eight weeks since he first discovered the human girl lost in their woods. Jeongin spent his time not on patrol taking over Hyunjin’s chores at the cabin. His days consisted of laundry and tending to the garden with his hyungs that were not out in the forest. One day, while alone in the garden, the youngest looked up at the sky to see storm clouds slowly rolling in. Changbin came out from the house to shout out to the fox. “Ayen-ah! Make sure to bring the laundry in before it starts to rain!” The bunny hybrid gave him a soft smile, all of them knowing the transition to his new daily tasks had been difficult for the youngest. Jeongin called out to his hyung as he made his way from the garden over to the clothes line. “You got it, Binnie-hyung!”

As he was bringing the now folded laundry inside, neatly placed in the large wicker basket, his ears and nose began to twitch and his tail stiffened as a sense of unease fell over him. Something was wrong, very wrong.

Carefully, Jeongin sat the basket on the porch away from where any rain could get to it as a light drizzle began to fall from the sky. Trying to be as quiet as possible, the fox backed away towards the tree line before taking off in a sprint.

He wasn’t sure what it was but he had this sinking feeling that she was not okay. Once he was deeper in the woods and was sure his hyungs that were on patrol would be closer to the cabin and there was less of a risk of him being caught disobeying his oldest hyung’s orders he slowed to a walk, eyes carefully scanning the trees as the sickening feeling got worse. This was the first time he had been in the forest in this form, having to get used to the difference in height and view.

The closer he got to where her small camp was, the more wrong everything felt.

Looking up at the sky his stomach sank further at the sight of vultures circling. Breaking out into a frantic run he was quickly thrust into the small clearing where the human girl’s camp was.

It was raining heavily now, and just outside the opening to the small tent laid her limp body on the ground. His feet were moving before he could even process, falling to his knees as he examined what could have caused her to be in this state.

Jeongin let out a little gasp at her appearance. She looked sickly, skin paler than normal and her body was visibly smaller than when he had seen her last. As he thought back briefly to all the times he had seen her he realized that over time she had been loosing weight gradually with every visit. How could he have been so blind? Why didn’t she have any food? He didn’t have time to think about that right now.

The fox hybrid gently touched her frigid skin and felt for a pulse, it was weak but there and he scooped her body into his arms carefully. Fuck he must be insane for what he was about to do, but he couldn’t leave her there to die. Not after she had saved him.

With the girl securely in his hold Jeongin stood up and took off for the cabin, her head cradled against his shoulder as he tried not to jostle her too much as he ran to get back before it was too late.

A soft groan left her lips and with it he felt a glimmer of hope, she wasn’t too far gone.

Rain was blurring his vision, his hair flatting to his head flinging drops of water as he sprinted through the forest, weaving and winding to avoid colliding with any trees or branches as he made his way back to the clearing for help.

Time was completely elusive to the young hybrid as he stumbled up the steps to the front porch of the cabin after what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, almost tripping over the basket he had left there early.

At the sound of his steps on the wood floor of the porch his hyungs came rushing out the door to greet him. “Jeongin where have you been?! We’ve been worried sick, you just disap-“ Han’s words were cut off as he saw the girl clutched tightly to the youngest’s chest. “Oh my god is that-“ Felix pushed past the chipmunk hybrid to see what he was talking about and a gasp left him as he saw her. “You brought her here?!? Ayen if Chan sees you he’s gonna-“ “I’m gonna what?”

Chan moved around the pair of younger hybrids to see what Jeongin had that was causing such a stir. When his eyes landed on her limp body held by the fox and the desperation in his eyes the wolf growled lightly. “What the hell are you doing bringing a human here.” It wasn’t a real question, simply a statement to show his distaste for the youngest’s actions. “Hyung please- she’s starved! I-I found her laying outside and-and there were vultures and I think she’s going to die-“ Jeongin pleaded, stepping closer to the oldest. “That isn’t our problem. She shouldn’t be out here unprepared if she didn’t want to starve to death.”

The wolf hybrid stood his ground, his face void of expression as he looked at the younger with indifference. Jeongin stared in shock, his oldest hyung was usually so caring and gentle. He had his moments of sternness, as any good leader did, but it was only from the deep need to protect and take care of their family. Hearing such harsh words for another living being from his most trusted hyung caused his heart to ache. “Channie-hyung please- I have to save her. I owe her.”

At the sound of the commotion the rest of the hybrids came out to see Jeongin pleading with the wolf, his grip on the human in his arms tightening and tears welling in his eyes. Minho was the first to step forward, moving between the two canines. “Give her to me, kit.” He spoke softly, reaching for the girl causing Jeongin to flinch back and hold her more protectively. “Calm down, I’m not going to hurt her. We can’t keep standing out in the cold or her condition will worsen.”

The youngest eyed him cautiously before slowly and carefully passing the girl into the older’s arms.

“Minho what are you doing.” Chan spoke sternly, eyebrow raising at the cat as he began heading for the front door. “Hyung I know you have a bad past with humans, and you are valid to be cautious of them, but this girl is in no state to pose any threat to us.” He ignored the growling coming from the wolf as he moved inside carefully and headed for the fox hybrid’s room. “Ayen is right, we can’t let her die.” Jeongin followed wordlessly, walking past his hyungs to follow Minho to his room.

“She’s staying with you, though I doubt you’d complain.” He teased lightly, laying her on the bed before starting to remove her clothes.

“What are you-“ Jeongin stared wide eyed as his hyung stripped her to nothing on his bed. Seeing her naked form caused his stomach to turn as he could see just how frail her frame had become in comparison to the time he had seen her bathing in the river. “Go and get me all the blankets and towels you can, throw them in the dryer then bring them here. We need to bring up her core temperature, she’s already hypothermic and before we can think about feeding her we need her temperature back up.”

Nodding, the fox hybrid rushed to get the things requested by his hyung. In some weird show of possession he made sure to grab blankets and towels that held his scent the most, even rubbing against them before tossing them into the dryer before heading back to his room to see what he could do in the meantime.

He saw Han and Felix were at Minho’s side, talking in low voices about the next corse of action. “The stuff you asked for is in the dryer, what else can I do Hyung?” Jeongin’s voice was eager as he made his way to the edge of the bed, taking her cold hand in his much warmer one. “Well kit, we were just talking about that…while we wait for the stuff in the dryer we still need to keep her warm.” She was now laying under the quilt on his bed, her body still shivering lightly as Minho continued. “Body heat is most ideal…” a flash of jealousy and that possession from earlier came back as he spoke up immediately. “I’ll do it.” Minho smirked and nodded to the youngest. “Okay, so you will need to take off your clothes and hold her to you.”

Han and Felix giggled as the fox hybrid flushed visibly at the realization of what he had just volunteered to do. Still, he didn’t regret his words. He would much rather it be himself than one of the others being with you like this. He quickly began taking off his clothes, causing the others to snicker. “No need to be so eager, kit.” Han teased, poking his cheek as he went to check the dryer with Felix in tow. “Shut up-“ once he was fully bare he carefully lifted the edge of the quilt and slipped into the bed next to her.

“I’m gonna go and make something for her to eat once we warm her up. When Felix and Han get back, wrap her in the towels first then the blankets.” Jeongin nodded, listening to the cat hybrid’s words though his attention was on the girl laying next to him. “You did good getting her here, don’t mind Chan-hyung he will come around to realize how harsh he was being eventually.”

Once Minho had left the room, it was just the fox and the human girl. His pretty girl. Finally being with her in this form, he felt he could fully take in her beauty. The hybrid wrapped his arms around her torso, pulling her flush against him so the natural warmth of his body could radiate onto hers. “Hi- um…I know you probably can’t hear me right now…but I figured uh..since we are like this I should introduce myself-“ his nerves caused him to stutter, his face mere inches from her own causing his hot breath to fan over her face gently, the girl in his arms letting out another small groan. “I’m Jeongin, um- Mr. fox is a cute nickname but- my name is Jeongin. God you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to tell you that-“

He laid like that for what felt like an eternity, taking in her features so closely as he attempted to warm her up. Slowly he felt the chill on her skin leaving as Han and Felix came back with the stuff from the dryer. The youngest moved back the quilt so they could get to work wrapping her in the warm fabric, and at the sight of her nude form Han began to blush as he attempted to advert his eyes. Just like Jeongin, the chipmunk had never seen a female before. “Minho-hyung said to start with the towels-“ Jeongin removed himself from her side, sitting up on his knees to help them wrap her up.

After she was safely cocooned in warm towels and blankets. Jeongin redressed as Minho brought in a bowl of broth. “Is that gonna be enough? She looks like she hasn’t eaten in weeks-“ Jeongin eyed the broth skeptically as Minho sat on the edge of the bed and gently tapped at the girl’s cheek. “Come on, sleeping beauty. Gotta get some food in you so you get get better.” A whimper left her lips, but her mouth opened enough for him to feed her a spoonful. “Broth is enough for now. She can’t exactly chew in this state and we don’t wanna put anything too heavy in her stomach or she won’t be able to keep it down.”

Slowly the cat hybrid fed her, watching as the warmth from the blankets brought color back to her skin. Minho smiled softly, brushing the hair back from her face gently as she finished the bowl he had brought her. “There. I’ll feed her some more later. We’ll keep this up until she’s awaken then we’ll move to adding veggies in it if she thinks she can keep it down” with that the older left to wash the empty bowl and give the youngest some space with her.

Jeongin sat back on the edge of the bed, his fingers carding through her hair gently as she used to do with his fur when they would meet at the river. She stirred lightly, eyelids fluttering a bit but they never opened. “J-Jeongin?” She spoke softly and his heart clenched. “I’m right here- I’m here, pretty.”

A soft smile reached her lips and her body seemed to relax as she drifted back to sleep once more. She must have heard him earlier, she said his name! He never thought his name sounded lovelier than coming from her lips. Jeongin let go of her hand and shifted back into his fox form, curling up beside of her on the bed and letting himself rest as well. It had been a long day and his exhaustion was finally catching up with him now that he knew she was safe. The last thought he had before drifting off was that he never wanted to let her out of his sight again, his pretty human girl.

author’s note; aaahh my first ever hybrid fic! I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it~~ big thanks to @chancloud8 for cheering me on and helping me whenever I hit a bump in the road and needed advice! Looking forward to continuing this story (though don’t worry I’m still working on my other series as well~) as usual lmk if you would like to be added to the taglist for this series~~ ᕱᕱ₊˚⊹♡

taglist; @coastinglove @estella-novella @chancloud8 @skzswife @motheraiya55 @zofia515 @skybluelixie

[gnohomotho]

Can we have some husband!junho fluff?? Please i need himmmm 😭😭😭

Your wish is my command, Anon, I did my best but please forgive the cheesiness! ♥♥♥ (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Sun-Kissed Morning ☕

Pairing: husband!Jun-ho x f!reader Summary: Just fluff, endless fluff. ♥ Enjoying a morning of playful bliss with your husband, from kitchen to bedroom. Warnings: You might contract diabetes. Word count: 1.6k

The morning light gently teased your eyes. Instinctively, you rummage around the blankets to your side, trying to feel for warmth and reassurance. Finding none, your eyes flutter open. Your foggy brain registers sound from the kitchen and you breathe a sigh of relief. Not thinking any thoughts deeper than a puddle, you get up, still half asleep, and put on the first thing you find neatly folded across the chair. With a slight yawn you softly walk towards the kitchen, the smell of coffee and sweetness enveloping you as you do. You see your husband, who hasn’t noticed you, softly humming to himself, engrossed in cooking seemingly without a care for the world.

He's beautiful, you think, as you stand there, groggy, arms crossed. As beautiful as the day you met him, though there’s less stress and fervour lining his body and back. He’s relaxed, still humming. He seems…you close your eyes slowly and smile as you look at him again...happy. All of Jun-ho’s movements seem almost carefree, calculated, but no longer rigid. You almost can’t believe how…content he is. You are. You would love to stop this moment and seal it forever, this kitchen, this smell, his humming, his warmth. Your soft smile turns into a small grin as you walk up to him everso quietly and place your arms around his waist, leaning your cheek against his neck, your chest against his back. Saying no words, you gently sway with him.

“Y/N! You’re up…”

Jun-ho’s inflection rises in surprise and falls down in that softness you have grown to love so much. He turns around, still in your arms, brushing against your body entirely on purpose. One hand wriggling out of your embrace to turn off the stove, his other quickly finds your cheek and caresses your smile. He frees his other hand and pulls you into him by the small of your back, as if suddenly needing that reassurance himself – as if you could disappear any moment in the smell of cinnamon and sweetness. His hands are slowly traversing your lower back, gliding along your hips and back and back up again. The sunlight reaches his face and you see the fringed peacefulness that puts you at easy each and every morning. You can’t help but giggle and he immediately catches on your playfulness, spinning around with you and leaning you against the countertop.

“Up so early, my love?” He tries to purr in what would be the most seductive morning voice you’ve heard since yesterday, but he sounds so sweet in his effort that you start smiling into his shoulder as he rests between your legs. The sunlight caught your hair as you dipped for his shouldery sanctuary and Jun-ho is caught in the moment of bliss, snuggling into you and kissing your hair, letting himself relax and melt in affectionate bliss. He’s still cradling you softly by the hips, and you’re caressing his thigh with your calf – even now he holds you as if you could slip away at any moment, as if he’s cherishing and needing that reassurance that you won’t. You shift your hips towards him and embrace him fully – he doesn’t wait for the full cue and immediately sinks into you, hands squeezing your back and caressing your body as you feel his chest against yours. His heart, you smile, is beating into yours, his breath is gently pushing your body as he pushes it back to him.

“I love you so much.” He hums into you, momentarily pulling away to kiss your forehead, which he misses and kisses your nose, before burying himself back in your embrace. Though you barely hear the muffled murmur in your ear, you feel it quite viscerally through your chest – his large frame enveloping yours and softly, so softly, sending a rumble through your body. You pull away gently and slide a hand across his chest, tracing his neck and cupping his cheek, before kissing him on the forehead (without missing), on the nose (on purpose, and feel him chuckle), and finally, slowly, softly, as if you never wanted it to end – on the lips.

“I’m up, sweetheart, quite literally.” You look down at him with a cheeky grin as your legs still hug his waist and your chest is only inches from his – but a slight bit higher due to your newfound high ground.

“Oh?” That cheeky grin spreads until he’s fully smiling, “Having the high ground while wearing my shirt? Oh, we can’t have that.” With feigned abject resolute he pulls you closer in one swipe and lifts you up, firmly holding you to himself as if it was nothing to him. Slowly backing out of the kitchen he only turns for better manoeuvring purposes – and you have no choice but to fall into him for balance, unable to help but erupt in a giggle that you hide in the crane of his neck as you attempt your best playful discontented noises. You softly beat fake fists into his back while your legs and thighs cling to him and he’s still doing his best not to burst out laughing.

“No, that’s grand larceny, miss, Ma’am, a---” he catches his thought while narrowly avoiding the bedroom door with his frame, making very sure you don’t get hit all the while positioning you around himself. Jun-ho’s are hands still sliding and caressing your back when they’re not busy doing the holding, and he himself only moves away from your chest to speak. Jun-ho truly doesn’t want to be away from you and your warmth.

Spoken once again through the rumbling and murmur against your body than clear words, Jun-ho kisses your neck between each word and humms melodically:

“Property theft from a police officer, Ma’am, that’s no grounds for high ground.”

Between supressed giggles he finally gets you to his desired location, and with the last words murmured between kisses, Jun-ho softly half-lays, half-lets you fall into the velvety bed and before you can protest or call a lawyer, he firmly provides you with the right to remain silent with another long, tender kiss. Hands finally free to do as they please without fear of hurting you, they search and caress and slide all across your body through your – his – shirt.

“I’m going to need to confiscate that, Ma’am,” he pulls away and lifts his eyebrows, a supressed grin in the corner of his mouth fighting for its dear life. Jun-ho would almost be imposing hovering over you like that but to you, he’s anything but. You join forces with his grin in fighting the urge to start giggling, instead attempting to remain sullen and insolent. Your attempts at looking unbothered and cool are greatly hindered, however you do manage to play along – and make his efforts to remain stern all the harder.

“I will need something in return, officer…a kind of tit for tat, if you will.” You grin from ear to ear, caressing his form with your thigh, and try to replace the all-encompassing cheerful bliss with something more seductive, eyeing his shirt and belt. Jun-ho follows your gaze and as the realisation hits him, you almost see a lightbulb go off and his own grin loses the fight.

“Too bad I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

You let out a small yelp as he buries himself back into you and kisses your body through, then under your garments, trailing kisses down your cheeks, neck, collarbones, chest, all the while unbuttoning the shirt you almost got away with stealing. Every button unbuttoned is another kiss, the lower he goes, the more his back straightens and finally, he is straddling you and unbuttoning the very last button. Jun-ho looks up to check if you’re still alright with this and his gaze stops – utterly transfixed. It cannot seem to move away on its own accord. His fingers lightly hover and brush around your bellybutton where the last piece of buttoned cloth fell from, Jun-ho’s other hand resting on the side of your ribcage, still so very protective. You always wondered how his hands seemed so large against your body, how his frame and arms against yours seemed to say “I will protect you” while his face and its soft features, lighting up as they saw you, conveyed the entirety of “I see you, I know you, I love you.”

But now, Jun-ho was looking at you, his wife, softly smiling up at him, hair a shining yet beautiful mess on the pillow, hands gently resting where they fell, one along her head and one peacefully laying at her side, seemingly frozen in their forgotten feigned protest. His wife in a moment of bliss that would, only this time last year, have seemed a particularly cruel joke to him. The warmth enveloping your tender features and your content lines were enough to keep him enthralled and tranquil should the moment freeze in time – forever. His dark eyes find yours and you see nothing but tenderness and gratitude, that you mirror right back.

“I’m so glad, Jun-ho.” You whisper. “I’m so happy.”

He finally leans down to you, his hair softly tickling your face. Before Jun-ho gently touches your forehead with his own, you reach him with another kiss.

“I love you, Y/N.”

He seals it with one more kiss, you feel no words would be enough to convey your feelings for him and Jun-ho feels the same way – utterly lost for words but so glad and warm – and you both understand. So you try to say the most sensible thing in this, or indeed any given situation.

“I’m going to need your shirt, officer.”

[brewed-pangolin]

There is just something so endearing about Soap MacTavish in the morning.

The soft golden light of the sun playing along the tips of his disheveled mohawk. Its bright honey color accentuated the stubble along his chin, dabbling it in crystalline sunlight flecks that glisten with every movement of a dreamlike breath.

Yet, somehow, despite the glowing aura that currently surrounded him, it was his eyes that always seemed to pull you in the most in the early hours of the day. Still hidden from view underneath heavy lids and caged behind thick lashes that never ceased to tear a jealous groan from the depths of your chest.

Slowly, as to not outright disturb him from his much needed slumber, you inched yourself closer until your chest pressed against the flesh of his arm. Dipping beneath to place yourself between his muscular reach and the density of his torso. Laying your head just below the cusp of his underarm as your hand delicately laid out atop the flesh of his chest.

A subtle twitch to the corner of his mouth is the first indication that your gentle measures are quickly culminating to the desired effect.

You feel the muscles tighten beneath his taut skin as he expands the bulk of his chest to inhale a heavy breath. Dense fibrous tissue rippling underneath his flesh to the flexion of his limbs, stretching his stiff form from the tight grip of sleep to pull you closer against him as a breathy growl rolls over a lengthy exhale.

"Mornin', bonnie," he mutters. Voice groggy and thick with Scottish brogue while his eyes still hide behind the curtains of his lids.

"Good morning, mo cridhe."

And likes Moses with the Red Sea, that simple term of Gaelic endearment uttered so sweetly from your lips finally parted the veil to his soul as he cast down his celestial gaze upon you.

"Hmm. Yer learnin', hen."

"I do what I can, Johnny," you breathed lowly. Catching a lump in your throat as your thoughts bottle between the walls of your windpipe.

"Besides, I love waking up to those beautiful blue eyes of yours."

"Jus' me eyes, lass?"

The sun's light trickled at the edges of his cerulean maelstroms, igniting a golden blaze that licked towards the flexing obsidian and tugged you further into the gravity that was him.

Words dissolved on the tip of your tongue as you lost yourself within the immensity of his stare. No other could make you forget the simplicity of language and the necessity to breathe like John MacTavish. Only with the gentle feel of his thumb against your shoulder did you ultimately fall back to Earth. Landing in his bed of unending affection to nestle yourself forever into the deep crevices of his heart.

"Not just your eyes, Johnny."

Your admission falls on a gradual exhale, fingers traversing along the middle of his torso between the deep grooves of his abdomen. Guided by a trail of perfectly dusted hair beneath his navel, only to halt your descent and place the palm of your hand along the curve of his Adonis belt.

"Then wha' is it, bonnie? Wha' is it about me eyes tha' makes ya go all dopey?"

You contemplated your answer for a moment. Running your fingers along the length of his pelvis to feel the tightening tension beneath his skin.

"They're like a second dusk before the blinding brightness of the sun washes them away. A last glimmer of twilight peaking through the ether, only to succumb to the glare of breaking dawn."

"Steamin' Jesus, lass. Ya jus' come up with tha' one? Or have ya been holdin' on tae tha' fer a while?"

"Little bit of both."

Your confession rolled over your trembling bottom lip like fog on a pebbled shore. Embedded with a hint of humor that never went unnoticed as Soap responded in kind by gently shifting you onto your back.

Bringing your hands to rest along the dense curvature of his neck, hovering above and caging you against the mattress as he lowered himself between the spreading valley of your open legs.

"Ya keep talkin' like tha', bonnie, an' yer gonnae find these eyes between a pair of very familiar thighs."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Wonnae be tha' last either."

Soap's eyes lit up like glistening orbs caught in a raging firelight. His smile etched across the entirety of his mouth, only further accenting his paradisical demeanor as he graced your lips with a kiss that breathed new life into the dawning of your groggy soul.

Immediately granting him entry into the warm chasm of your mouth. His exquisite tongue carrying the remnants of last night's whisky with the subbtle smokiness of tobacco etched along its fragrant border.

The mind-altering concoction seeping into your bloodstream like a substance not meant for the frailty of this world. Tearing away the cemented walls of reality as you fell like a heavy stone into the sunken fabric of the mattress beneath.

"Wha- what about me, Johnny?" You crooked when his lips tore away from your mouth, moving across your jaw and into the curve of your neck.

"You? Wha' ya mean?" He questioned between gentle, open-mouthed kisses against your neck. Voice subdued and muffled as his tongue lapped at the divine saltiness of your skin.

"What am I to you, Johnny? Right now."

Soap reluctantly pulled his mouth away to stare into your fluttering depths once more. Minding the growing fluster behind your eyes, taking note of your change in breath and the deep flush emanating from the valley of your chest.

"You, mo ghrádh," he started. Accent thicker than molasses and collapsing like time hardened lumber.

"Yer like the first sip of scotch on a cold winter's mornin'. Hot, heavy, and so damn addicting."

The air in your lungs froze, leaching their life giving oxygen into your pleading bronchioles. Halted by his unapologetic sincerity as your blood purged from your chest to pool within the deep chasm of your core.

"Jesus Christ, Johnny. You just bought yourself a one way ticket to Poundtown for that one."

"Aye? Complimentary in flight meal?"

"Of course. Only the best for you."

"There's a good lass."

He pressed his lips to yours for one final union. Only to begin his methodical descent, traversing over the curve of your neck and into the deep vale between your breasts. His calloused yet tender hands following in their wake, gliding over the perking flesh of your nipples while his mouth ghosted over the undulating skin of your stomach. The sporadic movement of your diaphragm creating a constant wave to your torso, tugging a smile to the corners of his mouth as he breathed a muffled chortle against the suppleness of your skin.

"Didnae expect so much turbulence, bonnie."

"Shut up, Johnny."

The bed shifted beneath your trembling frame as he repositioned himself between your thighs. Only now, with heat of his body pulled away did you feel the wetness embedded within your folds. The cool air causing a shiver to run up your spine as he cradled your knees over the sculpted broadness of his shoulders.

"Fuckin' hell, lass. Yer soakin' fer me already," he muttered against the sensitiveness of your inner thigh.

Prolonging the inevitable. Torturous intent with an impish furrow to his brow as he patiently waited for that simple utterance to give him the verbal go ahead.

"Johnny, please.."

"Aye. There it is."

Tagging the Soap Sqaud, as this will be my last post for the season.

@deadbranch @ohgeesoap @writeforfandoms @efingart @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @mini-metal @shotmrmiller @homicidal-slvt @glitterypirateduck @astraluminaaa @ghosts-goldendoodle @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @crashtestbunny @greatstormcat @crashandlivewrites @glossysoap @soapsgf @devcica @gazs-blue-hat @tacticalanxiety @chamomiletealeaf @thetrashpossum @simpingoverquestionablemen @queen-ilmaree @weebumochi @dustycrusty09 @sadstone-s @foxface013 @lily-ilo @slutweeds

[thefreakandthehair]

written for ‘pin’ | wc: 388 | rated: m | cw: n/a | a @steddiemicrofic collaboration with the absolute incredible, always wonderful, mindblowingly talented @ahhrenata!

It starts with a map. 

A faded, folded map with thin red and blue lines traversing the midwest landscape that Steve finds in the console of the RV Eddie hot-wired. When no one's looking, he tucks it safely into his pocket, carrying it with him as a symbol of hope through the hopelessness of the Upside Down. 

Against all odds, they live— Eddie wakes up, Max walks again, Dustin’s ankle heals up just fine— and that little map sits in the glovebox of his car, untouched but not forgotten. At least, that’s where it rests until Eddie finds it one night a year later and Steve, a little hazy and loose, tells him all about his dream. 

The RV. The six kids. The road trip. 

“Well,” Eddie starts, voice syrupy with a slack smile that only ever seems directed at Steve these days. “We probably shouldn’t risk grand theft auto again and I definitely can’t give you six kids, but I do have a van and no responsibilities if you ever wanna stick a pin somewhere in that map and take off.” 

And that’s how, against even greater odds, Steve finds himself on the hood of Eddie’s van at a rest-stop in Minnesota just off of I-94. He’s been driving for hours, trying to make it to the North Dakota border before nightfall, but both he and Eddie need to stretch their tight joints and tighter muscles. 

It may not have been the plan, but Steve’s glad that they decided to stop here because sure, they haven’t technically reached Big Sky Country yet but damn if they aren’t getting a taste of what’s to come. Splattered in shades of pinks and oranges, sunlight pierces the fluffy clouds like prisms and throws the colors across the sky. 

Eddie drags a flannel blanket out of the back and wraps it around both of their shoulders with an uncharacteristically shy smile. As they watch the sunset, Steve turns to Eddie to thank him for indulging this fantasy and finds himself close enough that their noses touch. 

The expansive sky and unending horizon gives him courage, a kind of freedom he’s never experienced back in Hawkins with its arbitrary rules and expectations. Back in Hawkins, he'd pull away but in the vastness of Minnesota, he just matches Eddie's smile and leans in.

[socksracoon10]

Being an Elf and falling in love with Thorin

Headcanons below the cut!

When Gandalf had first summoned you, it wasn't a very easy decision to make.

Being a Sindar elf yourself, the choice of having to derail from your own beliefs bruised your ego... especially since you were entrusted with overseeing Thorin and his company.

"My dear (Y/N)," Gandalf sighed, "I can not trust any other elf with such an arduous task. I know you are capable of setting aside your prejudices and aiding these dwarves."

"You saved my life once from the Uruk-hais. I am indebted to you for that, Gandalf. But I believe that this will be the one time I shall repay you for your kindness in this manner. Do not expect more from me." You muttered with a bitter tone.

"I do not plan on it." Gandalf reassured you.

When you first met the company under Bilbo's roof, there was silence. An eerie amount of silence.

The hobbit before you seemed enchanted by your presence.

You learned his name was Bilbo; he was the most sensible out of the bunch at the moment.

Your eyes traveled across the room and landed on Thorin, who had a nasty scowl on his face.

He wasn't expecting you to actually show up. He had hoped that for once that elvish pride would've saved him from having to face another individual of the same kind that had betrayed him years ago.

The silence continued, and you made your presence known. You were here to help the dwarves, nothing more and nothing less. You would accompany them to The Misty Mountains, but you would not step foot into their sacred lair. Not out of respect, but out of the sheer disgust you had for the dwarves.

Not even Eru could force you to enter their dwelling; it seemed as if death was the better option.

The journey there was not an easy one.

And Thorin didn't make it any easier.

He'd pass sly remarks every so often about you, try to demean you in front of everyone. He was constantly fighting a battle to ensure that you were beneath him in every aspect, despite being one of the most skilled elves to traverse Middle-Earth.

"Ah, it's best not to anger (Y/N), Thorin," Gandalf would quip from the background, wanting to ease the tension.

It did nothing.

There was an instance where you had left the group to gain more ground and a safer pathway for the dwarves through the forests.

Yeah, biggest mistake ever and Thorin wouldn't stop nagging you about it.

Those stupid trolls had gotten to them and Bilbo had managed to stall them long enough before Gandalf used the sunlight as a weapon.

"I left for one day... forgive me, I was merely trying to secure a safe path," You hissed at Thorin as he shoved past you.

"A safe path will only do if the company itself is safe first, elf," He spat, glancing over his shoulder. You so desperately wanted to spear your blade through his heart.

The rest of the trip resumed its unsteady silence. You glared at the other dwarves, not wishing to say anything to them. Occasionally, you'd offer a helping hand to Bilbo.

That didn't go unnoticed by Thorin. He didn't really like Bilbo as much, but compared to you? Bilbo was far better, and the stupid burglar was mingling with the wrong person.

However, his concerns of Bilbo shifted to his two nephews - Fili and Kili.

While they still harbored some resentment towards you for being a Sindar Elf, they were still young. They were naive, they did not experience that devastating day when Thranduil's forces abandoned Thorin's desperate cries for help.

And so what did they do?

They talked. Talked, and talked. Especially, Kili. Fili would add a joke once or twice, but if he ever caught Thorin's watchful eye, he'd gulp his words and nudge Kili to quit.

And then slowly, one by one... the dwarves were opening up to you.

Balin was more sympathetic, he was a very kind and wise dwarf. You actually enjoyed his presence.

Bofur was a bit reluctant to talk to you at first, but slowly came around. You noticed this when he asked you if you needed more food on your plate when you were dining in Rivendell. That was enough to tell you that perhaps there could be friendships between the dwarves and the elves.

You saved their asses a couple times, especially with the Goblins. Killed some orcs led by Azog. And then watched Azog brutally wound Thorin.

And then something switched in you. For a moment, you felt your breath hitch at the sight of him, dazed and unconscious. Something began to stir inside of you, and you couldn't place your finger on it. It almost felt... unworldly.

And that feeling continued... even when you ended up facing Thranduil, who was so puzzled at the fact that one of his own kind was helping those dwarves...

"I am repaying a debt that I owe to Gandalf," You explained, your head jutted up high into the air.

"What a terrible way to repay it, (Y/N)." Thranduil grimaced, "If you wanted an opportunity to keep yourself occupied, you could've turned to Legolas and he would've found you a wonderful position among my kingdom. We could use elves such as yourself, you know."

"Ah, but I could not say the same for you," You bit back, noticing the way his eyes widened at your audacity.

Word of your defiance quickly spread to the dwarves as the elves guarding them gossiped about it with such eager interest.

It fell onto Thorin's ears.

He almost thought they were lying to him. He couldn't believe it.

And as you passed Thorin's cell to enter your own, much farther away from the dwarves, you noticed something different about him.

He was smiling at you, a twinkle in his eyes. He seemed... proud? Ecstatic?

When the company and you had escaped via the barrels, you had almost hit a rock down the river. It was surreal to see the way Thorin's hands stretched out to warn you.

It seemed as if he cared.

You took a daring risk to climb off the barrel to kill some orcs, almost slipping across the branch in the process as you jumped back into your barrel.

"Be careful, elf!" Thorin cried out, "You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"And what does it matter to you?" You snapped, furrowing your brows.

He did not respond.

He did not need to.

Because you sort of knew the answer by the way he glanced back at you with a soft smile.

You mattered to him.

More than reclaiming the Mountains? The answer was obviously no.

But when you climbed up and watched him excitedly open the hidden entrance to the inside of the Lonely Mountains, his eyes flashed towards you for a split second.

As if he was waiting to see your reaction as well.

And when you gave in and smiled.

With or without the gold, the Arkenstone or the throne,

He felt as if he was the richest dwarf to ever live.

You mattered to him.

He mattered to you.

And thus began, the love between an elf and a dwarf.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Stalking Through The Underbrush[*]

Naga!Eris x reader

a/n: it’s October, of course there’s going to be at least one monsterfcking fic <3

synopsis: you’re used to cohabiting with the magical creatures of the forest, but when a naga snatches you from your morning walk and drags you down into his nest, claiming to be your mate, you have more than a few outraged questions to ask. Ones you hadn’t expected for him to show you the answers to.

warnings: teratophilia; dubcon; smut; naga!Eris; mentioned somnophilia; double penetration; overstimulation; cum play; brief fingering; oral (f receiving); secretion of an aphrodisiac

word count: 12,129

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Autumn frost has already begun crisping the chalky red-orange leaves, ensconcing peeling bark and decaying plants in millions of tiny shimmering diamonds that glitter in the early morning light. 

Hot, misty breath curls from Eris’ nostrils, exhaling in tendrils that billow above the rolling fog floating up from the river. His claws glitter in the watery sunlight, spritzed with heavy condensation and dew drops that have fallen from the tall grass blades that brush his furred underbelly. It’s a temporary discomfort but one he has to undergo if he wants to keep track of his little mate. 

It’s already late autumn and he has yet to approach you. If he doesn’t secure you soon, you might very well be snatched up by another creature like him, one equally in need of a warm, supple body to keep heat throughout winter. To bring food back to and to curl up against, to wrap around your comparatively slight figure and tuck himself into your scent. 

He’s found the perfect cave for them, inlaid with three of the thickly lined fleeces he’d dragged out of your open window one summer night—they don’t hold your smell as strongly as they had at first and it’s making him anxious to take you. The cave itself is near enough to the river to gather water, while remaining deep enough in the rock that any creature that might try to follow in after you will surely die from traversing the winding tunnel systems. Also deep enough to retain any heat started in the centre of the main cave. He’s certain you’ll love it once you’re there. 

As for now, he can hear your boots crushing through the frozen leaves, crisping and crunching with each step you take. He lowers closer to the ground as he prowls forward, tracking you through the forest, creeping along adjacent to your path, searching for the perfect moment to take you back to the nest he’s prepared. 

Then he can have you all to himself. Explore the appealing sweep of your hips, the softness of your thighs and calves, the delicate skin wrapping your waist. Eris’ teeth glitter in the light as his tongue wet his lips and nose, saliva releasing through his mouth at the thought of having you nesting beside him, at long last freed from those awful clothes he knows scratch at your body. You’ll look so pretty and full once he’s done with you. 

He’ll take you today. On your way to the river. Then he’ll have his mate secured for winter. 

————

You don’t sense any eyes on you as you make your way to the river first thing in the morning. It’s quiet and the air is pleasantly crisp though there’s a definite chill that’s already beginning bite at your throat and nostrils. 

The empty bucket on your arm bumps into your hip again and you attempt to shift it so it won’t be knocking into your leg with every step. It’s tiring doing this every morning. Making the walk down to the river. If you lived closer you wouldn’t have this problem but you’re stranded enough as it is out in the woods all by yourself. Besides, you can’t afford to move, and there aren’t even any homes nearby. You’d have to either build it yourself of scrape together the small fortune it would take to have one built for you. Which is never going to happen. So for now you’ll continue with the long morning walks. 

You don’t even see him prowling forward from the undergrowth. 

He’s completely undetectable to your senses, swiftly bounding up behind you and sliding his lower canines through the bodice of your dress. One moment you’re walking on your own, trying to find a comfortable way to hold the bucket; the next you’ve been suspended in the air, bucket clattering to the floor and rolling thrice across the ground while the waist of your bodice tightens around your body and the creature that’s lifted you begins proudly padding back into the woods. 

Your feet swing frantically as you kick, palms shakily trying to bat at the large creature that’s effortlessly hauling you through the forest, removing you further and further from the path. 

“Put me down!” You exclaim, trying to swat at his great body, but he’s carrying you by the backing of your dress and it’s impossible to reach him. You’re entirely unsure what to do—you’ve met the creatures of these woods plenty of times before, and they’ve never given you any trouble. At most a small pack of sprites might stop by your house until dawn arrived, but then they’d be on their way and might even have left you something on the kitchen table in thanks. 

But a beast this large? 

You’ve only seen them in the distance—heard about their kind grazing on the grassy fields atop the mountain sides during summer, then going into hibernation during the cold months. 

Your stomach drops when you spot the cave opening he’s bringing you to, frantically swinging back and forth in attempt to possibly tear the fabric, allowing you to drop to the floor and run away but—the fabric holds. You try kicking and squirming, try waving your arms, try yelling at him to let you go but you don’t even know if this one is one that can speak your language. 

It’s only once you’re deep inside the tunnel system—so turned around you’re certain you’d become well and truly lost if you attempted to venture out—that he sets you down on- “These are mine!” 

Sure enough you recognise the three fleeces you’d bought to prepare for winter that had gone missing months ago—he’d been behind that? He’s taken them from your home? When you’d been asleep? He’d been inside your house while you’d been sleeping? 

On faintly trembling legs you get to your feet and turn, only to find he’s shifted. 

From what you’d seen on the way over he’d been some sort of large, quadrupedal beast, but now… 

You swallow, taking some subconscious steps back. “You’re a naga.” 

His tail coils tight beneath him, arms folding over his chest, his long, fiery hair hanging soft and silky over broad, dark-spotted shoulders. You have to crane your neck to look up at him even at the distance you are from one another. His pupils flicker, a serpentine tongue flickering out once causing you to retreat a few more sudden steps. 

His eyes drop to your feet, a low hissing noise releasing from his chest, then he’s slithering forward and you yelp, trying to scramble further back but one of his large, clawed hands has wrapped around your ankle and you topple backward as it’s pulled out from underneath you. The fleece cushions your fall but you still try and kick as the naga looms over your, claws lightly scratching at the exposed skin of your calves, your dress pooling around your thighs on the floor. 

“Get off me!” You demand, a prominent edge of terror in your voice, afraid that if you squirm too much you’ll cut yourself on his claws. “Let me go!”

Slitted pupils flick upwards to meet your eyes and you feel like he’s pinning you to the ground with that look alone, never mind his grip tightening on your leg. Gods, he’s about to bite you and drain the blood from your body. Or sink his fangs into your throat to secrete a paralysing venom into your bloodstream so he can unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole. But instead the claws sink back into his fingers. “Take your boots off.” 

You freeze, having not expected the creature to speak. 

The naga watches you silently then his fingers begin working, deftly untying the strings of your boots until you’re free and bare-footed, pale socks peeled from your delicate feet, carefully discarded in a heap with your shoes. But instead of releasing your leg his eyes seem to wander, skimming up your shin to the underside of your thigh. You squirm when you realise he can probably see your underwear. 

“What are you- let me go…!” You put as much command into your voice as you can manage but there’s a distinct wobble. You’ve heard animals can sense fear—a mythical creature like him can probably tell every thought that passes through your mind without even trying. Oh Gods. 

“What are you-… What do you want from me? You should let me go.” You try to pull your leg from his hold but it’s useless, even when you use your other foot to try and push him off he keeps his grip firm. “You… Take me back. I need to go back to my home. Show me out.” 

His tongue flickers out again and you realise it’s forked like a snake’s. You shrink away. 

The naga follows after you and the blood drains from your features as he reaches for you. Your eyes squeeze shut, bracing for claws, heart pounding. But his fingers slide through your hair, palm settling against your cheek followed by the silky tickle of hair and the cool exhale of breath ghosting your throat. 

You peek your eyes open to find him much closer, staring at you intently. He’s slithered forward, his human-looking torso looming over you, where his tail connects to his hips settled between your legs. “I… Let me go,” you whisper, “please.” But he shakes his head, hair tickling your collar bones. Your lower lip wobbles. “What are you…what are you going to do with me?” 

His tongue flickers out over his lips, then his gaze trails over you, his fingers trailing up the outside of your thigh, bringing the hem of your dress with him until the fabric pools around your hips. He doesn’t stop there. Fingers graze the band of your underwear, skimming upward until they meet the ripped bodice of your dress. 

You whimper, trying to squirm away but he’s placed himself between your legs. You can hardly see him in the darkness of the caves, the damp, cloying cold of the subterranean cavern. A shiver runs up your spine, skin littered in goosebumps. 

The naga’s touch pauses. “You’re cold.” 

You stare at him. Shivering in the cold and dark, able to only just make out his shape and the spots of his skin. The luminescent amber of his eyes that makes him look like a nightmare. You nod your head. 

A fire flickers to life in the middle of the cave and light flares along the walls. The warmth is almost immediate, heat beginning to roll from the crackling fire and your lips part in surprise and awe. You hadn’t realised they possessed elemental magic. 

The naga’s fingers graze your collar bones, snapping your attention back to him. “You’re still cold.” 

“It’ll-… It’ll take a while…” You reply, unsure how to take him in. He doesn’t look as terrifying in the light as he had in the dark. Though he’s still terrifying. Just less so now that he isn’t a pair of glowing irises. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” you push, forcing the terror from your voice trying to keep yourself strong. The naga’s tongue flickers again but remains silent, waiting for you to speak it looks like. Your throat rolls. You incline your chin. “What are you…going to do with me?” 

Both his hands fall to your hips, effortlessly suspending himself over you as he helps the fabric of your dress glide further up your hips to be out of the way. “You’re staying with me throughout winter,” he answers. You shriek when his claws slide out again, slipping beneath the front of the bodice and slice upward, shredding the rest of the dress. Your arms slap over your chest, trying to wriggle further away from him, back still padded by the thickly lined fleece, muffling the hard abrasion of the rock enough to be surprisingly comfortable. 

“You can’t just- What? You can’t just take me to…into your hibernation!” You try to scramble away but the hold he has on your hips keeps you from going anywhere anyway. 

“You’re my mate. You’re staying with me throughout winter. At least.” 

“This is the first I’m hearing of it!” 

The naga pauses, his amber eyes glancing away for a second of…guilt? But then he looks back to you, his hold having lessened. “I didn’t want to frighten you.” 

“You didn’t want to… Are you-? Are you mad?” 

His amber eyes narrow. “You don’t like it?” 

“These are mine.” You snap, gesturing to the fleeces. “You stole them from me.” 

“So you’d be comfortable. The rock would have been hard on your bones and skin otherwise.” His brows narrow in displeasure, tongue flickering. “I can get rid of them and keep you on the bare floor if you’d prefer?” 

“I’d prefer to be taken back to the path you took me from.” 

“No.” 

“No?” You splutter. “What do you mean ‘no’?” 

“You’re my mate,” he repeats, a displeased drawl appearing. “You’re staying with me throughout hibernation.” 

“I don’t want to.” You further fold your arms. “Take me back.” 

“You struggle during winter,” he points out, snatching your attention. “You struggle to keep yourself warm, to find food, to keep your life going during the winter. I can keep you warm, and keep you fed, and you can bring anything you like down here. It’s for you.” 

“I don’t even know your name. I’m not-”

“Eris.” 

You blink, pausing. “What?” 

“My name. It’s Eris.” 

“Oh.” Your hold on your clothes lessens, relaxed somewhat. “I didn’t think you had names.” You wince when a scowl works its way between his brows. “I didn’t think you were so impolite.”

It’s your turn to scowl. “So take me back.” 

“I can’t just exchange my mate for another one.” 

“You can’t just take me from my home.” 

“You’re not that far away,” he counters, “and you’ll be safe here.” His amber eyes glint, one edge of his narrow lips curving. “And you won’t have to worry about anyone peeping through your windows, either.” 

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing with wild heat, the fire suddenly beginning to feel like it’s putting out too much warmth. “You-…” You’re speechless. 

“You shouldn’t leave your windows wide open at night.” He muses, tail swishing behind him. “Especially not when you’re completely bare. Anyone could have seen.” 

“You were watching me?” You exclaim, outrage and…something else fuelling the heat in your cheeks. But his tongue flickers again, hold tightening on your hips, leaning closer, “you do have a wonderful figure.”

Your mouth pops open, then your hand is flying through the air, aiming to smack him hard across the jaw but he catches it easily. Pushing himself closer. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re lovely.” 

Why are his words having an effect on you? Why is there a warmth in your chest? It’s probably the fire. It’s definitely the fire. It has to be the fire. No way he’s seducing you. 

You turn your head to the side. “You’re just saying that.” 

It’s the opening he’s looking for, one he knew you’d give him at some point. 

His fingers curl around your dress and the next moment he’s pulled it clean from your body, leaving you only in the underwear that’s hugging your hips. 

A shocked gasp leaves your mouth, eyes going wide as you try to hide your breasts but his large palms have already loosely wrapped around your wrists, holding them down into the thick fleece. You flush deeply, squirming beneath him, embarrassed at how much of you he can now see. How bare you are beneath him. “Let me go…! You- You’re a-…” 

“Mhmm?” 

The flush deepens at his low drawl, the heat creeping southward from where it had gathered in your chest, delicately spreading to your lower stomach…your abdomen…your thighs… “Let go of me, Eris.” The naga’s pupils momentarily expand and for a moment he looks so frighteningly human you subtly lift your chin from the fleece. 

You hardly notice the questioning look in his eyes as he approaches until his lips are tentatively pressed against your own. 

You don’t immediately recoil.

You don’t recoil at all. 

His mouth is soft. Elegant and narrow, lips hiding the piercing tip of his fangs. It’s nothing like kissing another human, his tongue is thin and quick, flickering against the seam of your mouth. Rougher than the velvety wash of another human’s, leaning more on the abrasive side. So you can feel as he flickers against your lips, your own tongue, flicking to stroke the roof of your mouth and swipe along the inside of your teeth. 

The naga slithers closer, one powerful arm sliding beneath the arch of your spine, free hand cupping the side of your head, fingers long and large enough to wrap around two thirds of the circumference of your skull. Glittering jade scales are surprisingly smooth beneath the bare skin of your calves, legs mindlessly snaring around the thick trunk of his tail, coiling further down, his rattle hissing with what you have to assume is pleasure. 

It’s only when you feel the hot, heavy weight of something curved and thick against your naked stomach that you pull away. Though you know what it is before you even look, it’s still a surprise to see the deep jade of his cock, transitioning to pale skin and flushed at the tip, looking somewhat larger at his base and-

Your eyes widen when Eris shifts his body and you spot the second one he has. Just as flushed but longer…thicker…fatter at the base, like the skin is flaring, or swelling. 

You’re speechless, mouth opening and closing as you stare down his well-muscled chest. 

Why does he have two? Is it usual for nagas to have two? Do naga females have two…? Are you supposed to take both of them? Does he know you can’t?

“Eris…Eris what- Why-”

“You didn’t know my kind has two?” Your gaze shoots upwards, staring wide-eyed at him. “I can’t…” But you trail off, eyes growing even wider if possible as your mouth pops open. Eris eyes your lips with interest. “Is this…? This is what you want a mate for?” 

It’s Eris’ turn to blink his surprise. “It is the end of mating season,” he replies dryly. “Have you never noticed the increase in my kind around early and late spring?” 

“You’re not expecting me to…”

His lips curve. “Why not?” 

“Because you’re a…and I’m a…” You shake your head. “No. You’re taking me back up to the surface and you’re going to leave me alone. You can’t just…remove me from my home.” 

“You can bring it all down here. You can keep your yarn in that nook there.” He nods to a crook in the cavern wall that looks strangely like a shelf. “And you can bring your bedding to lay next to the fleeces. Your clothes too, if you must.” 

“No. I have no reason to stay down here,” you repeat, holding your ground, uncomfortably aware of how your nipples are beginning to peak in the cold. How his eyes have also noted that change in your body. “You’re the only one this would benefit. Overall this would be a loss for me—all you can offer is mild warmth throughout winter but you can’t offer me open air and sunny skies. Nor enough money to buy a home I’d like.” 

“I can offer a safe home, warm meals, all the comfort you could want,” Eris replies, and you squirm when his body pushes slightly closer, his hands holding your hips in place. “As well as having a mate.” 

“The mate part only benefits you,” you repeat, huffing faintly. “You can’t just take me from my home. I don’t care if you think I’m your mate—I’m not interested. And are you listening to me?” 

His amber eyes have gone glazed, no longer locked with your own. Heat warms your cheeks beneath that intense look—you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Pressure changes between your legs, then you feel something forming on your lower belly. You try to shift underneath him and his tongue flicks out, making a hissing sound. Looking lower, your mouth pops open when you spot the creamy liquid that’s dripped down from the tip of his lower cock, pooling on your belly. 

“You’ll feel good,” he murmurs, and you inhale heavily as his hips shift, dragging his cock down your centre, able to feel the small ridges from his scales scraping over your clit. “I’ve been waiting so long for you.”

“Eris…” You flush, hands sliding down your body to try and grip at his wrists to free yourself from his hold. “Let me go…” His pupils dilate, and then he’s leaning even closer to you. If you took a deep inhale your breasts would brush his chest. His focus lies entirely on you as he inclines your hips upward from the fleece, slowly rocking you against him. “You want to know what it feels like, don’t you?” 

You inhale sharply, staring at him, toes curling as you wrap your legs closer around the broad trunk of his tail—for stability. “I- What? Know what what feels like?” You’re breathless even to your own ears. The fire burning too hot. Your pulse spiking too high. 

“One round,” Eris growls, lowering himself to your throat, serpentine tongue flickering up the length of your neck, so much rougher than a human one. His hips shift once more, each scale scraping between your legs, hypersensitive to touch. “Let me show you.”

You flush, tilting your head to one side in attempts to squirm away but it only allows more space for him to place himself, razor-sharp incisors dragging themselves over your soft skin. He’s so much larger than you, so much stronger. His tail alone is probably six times your height…maybe seven, and his torso is lined with muscle, muscle that allows him the flexibility and lithe movements of a great snake. It’s probably the hot grip he has on your body, on your hips, that’s making you curious; probably the enticing drag of his heavy cock between your legs that’s making you sweat; probably the intense look in his golden amber eyes that has undeniable arousal gathering along your spine. 

With his head dipped to your throat he looks almost like he’s bowing and a heady pleasure rises to your mind, as though you might have some kind of control over a creature as large and as terrifying as this one. One who could surely overpower you effortlessly, tangling you in his tail and pulling you apart how he likes. He has no reason to ask for your willingness. And yet you want to give it to him. Want to know what it’s like, to lie with a naga. 

Teeth tuck into your lower lip and your throat rolls as the decision is finalised. “One round,” you whisper, arousal making your voice tremble—are you really getting to do this? Eris groans heavily, pulling back from your body to slide the retractible point on his claw down over your abdomen, catching beneath the fabric still clinging to your hips. It sounds like scissors snipping through cloth as he neatly cuts the remaining clothing from your body, his pupils blowing wide as he lays eyes on you. Your hands find his wrists, enough human fear still within you to think. “Be gentle,” you request, shifting beneath him on the fleece, heart pounding wildly in your chest.  

Eris squeezes your waist once in reply, then he’s running the flushed and leaking tip of his cock up and down your centre, mixing arousal with every movement. There’s a lot, even at this stage. Eris pushes himself closer between your legs, his hands moving so his thumbs can dig into the meat of your thighs to hold them apart and you know that even if you tried you wouldn’t be able to pull yourself free. He’s got you completely at his mercy. 

You inhale as the head of his cock presses between your thighs, large and hot, that pearly liquid still leaking onto you and you ache to feel him slide in. An ache that only he can fix, one so acute you aren’t sure how you made it this long without pushing yourself open for him and clambering on top of his hips, seating yourself where you belong. “Eris…” 

Amber eyes pierce into you and your grip on reality dissipates as he slips inside, stuffing your cunt full in one slow, deep stroke. 

Your spine arcs, toes curling as you stretch around him, able to feel every smooth, jade scale of his base as it enters, his cock nestled away inside of you. Something slips out from his tip. Hot and wet. How much of that liquid is already inside of you? Dripping from the slit in his head? 

“Have you ever lain with another creature before?” Eris asks. Are you supposed to be able to respond right now? With the pressure he’s putting between your legs? 

You manage a shake of your head, and glittering teeth flash in a lazy grin. “You’re going to enjoy it,” he whispers, pride and pure arrogance dripping from his tone. “I’ll make sure you’re begging for more after. That you’re crying for pleasure. As desperate for me as I am for you.” 

“You don’t-…” Your spine arcs, eyes sliding shut as your brows knit together, feeling as a wave of his arousal is released inside of you, the liquid releasing more thickly now and you wonder in the back of your mind if lubricant is primarily released by the males rather than the females of his species. What were you trying to say? 

“I don’t…?” 

You can hear the mirth in his voice, that lazy drawl and picture that smug glint in his eyes. “You look fine,” you manage to pant out, chest rising and falling rapidly, wishing you had the energy to shift your hips but the thought of the pleasure alone has your muscles turning slack, thighs trembling as this massive, serpentine creatures keeps you held to the ground. “You aren’t…why…? …I’m a mess, and you’re…” 

“I’m?” You can picture the teasing smirk on his mouth. A moan slips from your lips in place of words and a flush of embarrassment spreads through your chest, fingers moving to soften your noise. 

“I’ll make you moan louder if you try to muffle them,” Eris drawls, his low chuckle razor sharp and honed. “Would you like me to start?” 

“We haven’t-… Haven’t we already…?” His cock drags out of you and you whimper at the emptiness, missing the pleasurable scrape of his scales against your wet inner walls, the hot weight of his second cock resting heavily over your abdomen, leaking more fluid, occasionally pushing at your clit when his hips are tight to your own. Your hands scramble, searching for him in a daze, and he laughs. 

The moan you release when he slides in to the hilt is loud and wanton, a heady pleasure dizzying your mind. You can feel him again, that delicious stretch, probably pushing up through the skin of your abdomen. Looking down, you whimper at the cum pooling on your stomach—would it taste good? 

“Aren’t you a lucky human?” Eris whispers, closing in on your throat as he rocks into you. You’re thankful for his gentle pace, taking care not to hurt you even if you’re beginning to want him to hit harder. You can’t imagine anything hurting anymore, not the buck of his hips, nor the scrape of his teeth, nor the pressure of being entirely full, finding a way to fit both of them inside of… “How many of your kind get to experience this kind of lay, do you think? A few dozen, across the world? And you’re getting to be one of them, too. Aren’t you lucky?” 

Your toes curl as his thrusts speed, his hips rolling so his cock begins rubbing up against a spot inside of you that makes you want to move with him. A biological instinct urging you to lift your hips to meet him. You try to shoot him a glare for his mockery but you can hardly manage to keep your gaze straight. Panting fills the air, the blissed out, needful expression that had been consuming Eris’ features now transferred to you and you have to wonder if his mind has somehow become clearer now his want is being satiated, compared with you own human mind that only grows foggier and dumber with every ounce of pleasure he pours into you. 

You squeal when a peak of pleasure pulses through your body, an overwhelming high that makes your thighs tremble, crying out and making noises you didn’t know you could—that you’d ever be so caught up in your own feelings that you wouldn’t care for how embarrassing they would be. There’s hot liquid inside of you, spilling into parts so deep it feels like he’s inside your stomach. 

He doesn’t stop, cock still dragging in and out of your sensitive heat and your legs tremble, shaking with every thrust as perspiration gathers along your skin. “Eris…” you pant, fingers shakily trying to pry his own from your hips. “You-…you said one round…” Tears gather in your eyes, cunt fluttering wildly as he keeps stuffing you full, head tipping back into the fleece as the flames burn hotter in the cave, feeling like you’re trapped beneath glass during a hot summer’s day. 

“Done already?” Eris drawls, teasing mirth lacing his tone. “You haven’t even taken the second one, let alone the first. Is your etiquette so poor?” 

“I-…” You’re struggling to speak, fingers partially locked around his wrists, needing something to cling onto. “You… You said one round! We… Stop…” 

“Stop?” He says it like he’s never heard the word before. “Why would I stop? I can tell you’re enjoying it.” 

“It’s too much!” You’re going to fall apart if he puts any more pleasure into your body. Breaking past your threshold and obliterating it entirely. “I can’t… I can’t do anymore…” 

Eris laughs, the deep rumbling noise reverberating through the caves, echoing of the rock walls. “You can,” he whispers, an edge to his voice that makes your hairs stand on end. His hands squeeze your hips, then you’re being hauled upward and tossed onto your hands and knees. His hips pull back, then he slams himself in to the hilt, and you’re so full you think cum might start dripping from your mouth. When does he stop releasing it? How much longer until he reaches his own high? You can’t take much more of this… 

Your mouth falls open as his grip on your hips tightens and he begins pounding into you. Pounds and pounds of muscle all working together to snap his hips to your own. 

That creamy liquid begins dripping down your thighs and into the fleece, more spilling onto your back, leaking from his second cock and trickling down to his base before being stuffed inside of you again. 

“For someone who said they can’t take anymore, you’re doing remarkably well,” Eris muses, sounding completely at ease despite the hunger and heat that’s plying you apart. Are you going to come again? 

One of his large hands leaves your hip, curving around your waist to slip between your thighs and tears push from your eyes as the rough pad of his finger finds your clit. Moans grow louder, being shoved from your lungs with every snap of his powerful body. It feels so good, so overwhelmingly good and yet you feel like you’re about to fall apart, like you might collapse any second now and melt into the ground. 

You try to swallow but your throat is dry, your arms trembling beneath the strain of holding yourself up, and he’s still going, showing no signs of fatigue or of wavering. How long is it going to take for him to come?

The circles on your clit grow tighter and meaner, and you almost feel like he’s teasing you, speeding up the oscillations then slowing almost to a stop entirely, giving you calculated bursts of pleasure as his cock drives in and out of you, all while his second is resting heavy against your lower back. Your mouth drops open as he speeds the circles again and another high flushes through your body, making your skin sizzle and tingle, cunt fluttering again while he remains unhurried above you. 

You can’t help it—your arms give out, upper body flopping into the fleece as your cheek pushes against the soft padding. 

Behind you Eris chuckles, like you’ve done something endearing. “Tired already?” 

His thrusts begin to slow, and your breaths pant out into the ground. You whimper when you feel cum beginning to slide down the slope of your spine, squirming at the strange feeling, how hot it still is. You try to push yourself up but the hand between your legs removes itself, instead splaying his palm across your back, keeping you pinned to the make-shift bed while his cock remains full inside of you. 

“What- what are you doing?” You can still hardly speak, despite the break he’s allowing you. You make an uncomfortable noise when he spreads the liquid across your back, lungs sharply pulling in air with surprise and…the smallest bit of arousal. Is it a territorial thing? Marking? You hope not. “Eris,” you whimper, trying to shift beneath his hold but he’s got you pinned. “Eris- What are you doing? Oh-” His palm has slipped beneath you, both hands now running up over your stomach, slicked with his release. 

“My kind lives long,” he murmurs, your breath hitching when his palms cup your breasts, thumbs rubbing across your nipples, still slick with that hot, creamy liquid. “But despite that, offspring are rare. We have our mating season, and breeding frenzies, and we’re still a dwindling species.” You moan as his hands roam your body, palming your breasts in a way that has warmth unspooling in your lower belly. When he pulls away you nearly whine but manage to keep control of yourself. When he pulls out however, you couldn’t care less how needful or humiliating the sounds are you’re releasing—you need him to be inside of you again. 

When he lays you on your back your thighs are already open, legs parted and ready for him again despite how sensitive you still are, cunt tingling with pleasure, clit puffy and swollen from attention. He wraps one hand around your leg, lifting it easily from the ground as he digs his thumbs into the meat of your thigh, continuing to slather your body in release. You tighten around nothing, palms lifting from the fleece to cup your sensitive breasts, lightly swiping your thumbs across the slicked peaks, shivering from pleasure. You’ve never known yourself to be so sensitive. 

“Most of my kind has to survive on those aids alone,” he continues, and you whimper as his hands keep working your body, rubbing through sore spots and pulling taut muscle apart to release the built up tension that’s already gathered in your comparatively small frame. “My bloodline, however,” Eris says, an amused lilt in his voice that has your ears pricking, heat fluttering in your lower tummy as he leans closer, his long, silky hair tickling your collar bones, fangs glittering in the firelight. “We get a little something extra. To help keep us going.” 

Your brows furrow, barely following him. Too busy thinking about what his cock will feel like when it’s inside you again. Because there’s no way he’s leaving you without giving you more. You won’t be able to manage. “What is it?” 

Elegant, narrow lips curve at their edges, pressing himself between your legs so you can feel the hot weight of his cock over your centre, resting against your clit. “An aphrodisiac.” 

Your eyes blink wide open, staring at him. “A what?” 

Eris smirks, hips pulling back and your thighs fall open of their own accord. You squirm, breaths becoming heavier as the head of his cock catches on your clit, dragging down through your centre, coming to a pause between your thighs before nudging once at your entrance. “You tricked me!” You accuse, half-heartedly attempting to squirm away but you want him again so badly. To think of all that release coating your body, skin absorbing those arousing properties so you’re conditioned to want him…should you find that repulsive? Are you supposed to dislike that? You can’t think straight anymore. 

Eris smirks, and your stomach flips, legs subconsciously opening wider. “Would you like me to stop?” He asks, allowing his fingers to splay across the top of your thigh, ticklishly tracing in circular patterns. “I will if you ask me to.” But I don’t think you can, goes unspoken. 

“You said just one round…” you pant, not quite denying you want more but evading his question. Do you want him to stop? If he stops now does that mean you’ll never get this again? Eris’ smirk broadens to a grin and your hips incline from the fleece, trying to push him even a little deeper but he pulls away. “Shall I stop?” He repeats, amber eyes glinting knowingly. “I can return you to your home, if that’s what you’d like? It’s what you’ve been asking for all this time, after all.” 

This time, you do glare at him: a simmering look that you hope he feels the burn of. 

“You want me to ask you for it? Is that what you want?” You’re pleased with the snappiness of your voice. Eris’ eyes gleam with hunger, snaking closer, the head of his cock almost slipping inside of you and it’s a feat of pure spite that keeps you from bucking your hips to get him deeper, fighting off the aphrodisiac that’s already sunk its claws so deep. You incline your chin, desire bubbling away in the pit of your tummy, so desperate for him to stuff you full again. “Make me.” 

Eris’ pupils nearly swallow his irises with hunger, then a deep-throated laugh is rolling from his chest, breathless and lined with strain. His serpentine tongue flickers out once before he’s pulling back, enough for you to desperately bite down on a whine. “Alright,” he muses, rough-voiced, “if that’s what you want. I can do that.” 

You yelp in surprise when he twists you around, so you’re now spread out on top of him, thighs straddling his powerful serpentine body. 

A heady rush of pleasure goes straight to your cunt, finding the view of being seated atop such a terrifying creature a power trip all on its own. He’s massive. Probably eight times your height, from head to tail. 

Eris holds you atop him, and there’s the teasing press of him between your thighs, his tip just nudging at your entrance. “It’s only going to get worse for you,” Eris reminds with a cocky smirk, keeping you suspended just out of reach of what you need, perched on the very tip of his cock, the second, thicker one lying flat against his stomach, a definite swell at his base. He’s not allowing you to feel even an ounce of relief. What have you gotten yourself into? You’d thought asking him to make you would result in Eris pounding you into the bedspread, but instead it seems you’ve started a challenge you have no chance of winning. How are you supposed to outlast him? 

As if he can read your mind he grins. “I can’t imagine how you’ll cope once the symptoms start presenting. Heightened sensitivity; influx of arousal fluid; increase in temperature…” He laughs, eyes glinting. “You’ll be begging me to fit both into your poor cunt, if you aren’t too careful.” His lips curve and his tail rattles, tongue flickering out in that menacing way of his. Eris’ eyes darken, grip tightening, voice softening to a whisper as he croons, “If you ask sweetly enough, I might even give you a break when you pass out.”

 

Hot flame scorches your cheeks, palms weakly attempting to scramble at his fingers, plying them from your hips but it’s a hopeless task. As if to flaunt his power his tail rattles somewhere behind you, serpentine tongue flickering teasingly over his charmingly narrow lips. Sensual, and soft. Fangs flashing in the firelight.

Arousal drips down onto his cock, slowly drooling down the length of him to mix with the leaking cum that’s already gathered at his base. 

You gasp as his tail begins slithering around your middle, coiling once around your hips, snaking up your waist, tightening gently until he’s slid himself thrice around your torso. The rattle snickers before you and you don’t even attempt to pull his tail from your body—you have no hope of overpowering him. And yet it’s arousing, the flush squeeze of his tail to your waist, perched so teasingly atop his cock, his hips poised to drive up into you the moment you give in. Ask for it. Beg for him. 

Is it the aphrodisiac making you think like this? It must be. 

But now you can’t comprehend the idea of ever not wanting him, and logic is lost. 

Heat gathers between your legs—hot, liquid heat that drools like syrup down the inside of your thighs. His tongue flickers again and in that moment you’re convinced that if he had legs he might crawl to drag his tongue over your sex. The thought flies away as swiftly as it’s delivered and embarrassment shudders down your spine from the obscenity. Is it still getting hotter in here? 

Eris’ lips curve in a coy smirk, oozing arrogant self-satisfaction as he watches you begin to unravel, squeezed atop his cock, the tip barely inside. Amber eyes glitter and he removes his hands from your hips, resting them beneath his head while his tail keeps you suspended above, straddling his hips. “You look like you want something.” 

His tail rattles and you open your mouth to argue but then the tip is tentatively prodding between your thighs, rubbing leisurely over the intimate part. Your mouth pops open. Thighs tensing. Toes curling. Insides fluttering. 

His lips curve. “Like that?” 

Eris’ tail rattles, and your vision blurs as sensitive reverberations are pressed onto your clit. Rapid, heavy pulses that have your finger pads digging into the impenetrable scales of his tale, a deep jade at his top and a creamy, cotton pale on his underbelly. 

“Please…” It’s not even a whisper. Less than a breath. 

He hears it. Of course he hears it. But he pretends not to, arching a brow with a smug gleam in his eyes. “What was that?” 

His tail rattles again, and he lowers you a little further onto his cock, his tip nestling just inside of you but keeping the steep head of himself from slipping in any further. You flush, trying to squirm your way into having more but his tail shifts around you and suddenly you can’t even swirl your hips. You release a gasp of frustration. “You can’t do that,” you huff, pulse spiking. “That’s unfair.” 

“Unfair is having to play these games with you just so you’ll be happy about sitting on my cock,” Eris counters in a half-amused drawl. You can’t make out the other half, but it’s something edged. Something fraying. 

You try to turn your nose up at him, weakly attempting to fold your arms over your chest, forearms resting atop the uppermost coil of his tail. “You’re the only one insisting on playing these games.” Eris arches a brow, smirking “Do you wish I wasn’t?” 

Yes. But you can’t tell him that. His smile widens as if he knows and his tail rattles as if in reward. You try to swallow your moan but the tightness of your throat only makes the sound whinier, more needy and sultry. Humiliation flutters in your lower belly and Eris grins. “Can’t you imagine how good it’ll feel? Remember how I stretched you out? Remember how you felt coming with me inside of you?” His tail rattles, tongue flickering, and you’re dangerously near the edge again. “Maybe you need some encouragement.” 

His tail convulses around you as it shifts, parts compressing and expanding as the length of his tail from its last coil to his tip grows longer until it can comfortably slide between your legs, teasingly shifting suddenly so he’s coiled only once around your waist but keeping your ankles apart, the end of his tail allowed to rub over your centre, his rattle scraping your clit. Your legs are shaking, shuddering, a wild heat burning beneath your skin as he holds you apart for him to see, the firelight making it so nothing is hidden from him and you can imagine how your cunt must be glistening with the orange glow of the flames. 

Eris smirks, more liquid leaking onto his stomach. “You should really see yourself,” he says, pushing himself up from the fleece. He’s keeping you suspended high enough that now he’s propping himself upright he’s at eye-level with your cunt. His tongue flickers again, and he laughs lowly at your response. The attempted tilt of your hips. “I won’t make you beg for this,” Eris muses, and you have a curse waiting on your tongue but you’re brought that little bit closer and his palms wrap over the tops of your thighs, holding you like you’re an exceptionally large goblet he’s drinking deeply from. One he must use both hands to drink from. 

Your eyes roll, lids fluttering. His tongue is wet but rough, teasingly light and frustratingly playful in its licks. Zipping and flickering at your clit before his lips close around your heat, sealing you inside the humidity of his mouth, forcing you to endure the tauntingly pleasurable stimulation. And it feels so good. The intimacy and sensitivity of having such a clean part of him on…well…between your legs. Willingly applying himself, sinfully enraptured, eyes slid shut as he tastes you. 

Freedom from observation gives you a fabricated sense of safety and the tension melts from your body, relaxing back into his tail, legs practically falling open for him as your head tips back, ready and accepting, prepared to feel the glistening high barrel through your body, pulsing through your thighs and abdomen, dripping onto his tongue. 

You tighten, and he stops. 

A frustrated cry slips from your lips. “Eris!” 

He smirks. “Ask me.” 

A noise between a groan and a whimper escapes your lungs. You don’t want to ask him. But can you really last any longer? You were so close, like a word on the tip of your tongue, it was right there. You avert your eyes, refusing to look at him. He’s too handsome to look at head on. Your throat rolls. “Please…” You lick your lips. “I want… I want another round.” 

His grin broadens into something that could never be mistaken for human, and his fangs catch in the firelight as the rough of his tongue drags slowly, intentionally over your clit, keeping his eyes on yours. Your toes curl and your hips buck, trying for more friction. “It took you long enough,” Eris grins, flickering his tongue teasingly over your clit as you’re swiftly being brought back to that high. “You’re the one who-” But you gasp as his tongue snakes inside of you, rough and surprisingly strong and it pushes upwards. 

You squirm at the unfamiliar sensation, trying to wriggle away from him but he laughs onto your cunt. When his tongue retracts to return to your clit it’s coated in slick, gleaming arousal, and you feel thick liquid drip down from your entrance. His tail guides your legs over his shoulders, hands wrapping around your hips as he tilts your body to drink from you properly. 

The orgasm blows through your body, heat glistening and pulsing through your thighs as white-hot pleasure sparks. His mouth is entirely sealed over your cunt and he times the small convulsions of his tail to the fluttering of your cunt, making it feel like the high truly is passing throughout your entire body. 

Your skin is slick again, a lasting mix of his release and a fresh sheen of perspiration, chest heaving as Eris’ mouth soothes over your sensitive cunt, clit turned puffy and sore from all the attention. You flinch as he drags his tongue over it again, suckling and tugging with his teeth, your vision blurring and your feet kick. “Eris! Stop, I can’t-” Your breath hitches as his suction increases, stretching out the last drops of your orgasm, feeling the pulses slowly begin to fade into that hazy buzz beneath your skin.

It’s a effort to swallow, compromising precious breaths with the shift. 

Eris chuckles lowly, amber eyes like molten gold in the firelight. “So quickly?” 

You flush, heat gathering beneath your cheeks as you try to look away. It’s not like you could help it. It seems to only further his amusement, tail lightening around your waist and a sigh of relief slips from your lungs as he guides you back from his mouth, allowing you to rest your palms on his abdomen, thighs straddling his hips. You’ll be thankful to bask in the warm heat of the fire for a bit, let the tension and pleasure again seep from your muscles. 

But Eris isn’t even considering allowing you a rest. After all, you’ve only just started. And he still hasn’t reached completion. 

A moan slips from your lips when you feel the head of his cock nudge at your entrance. You can do nothing to protest as he slips you down his length, so wet there isn’t an ounce of resistance. Not even as he stuffs you full, so you’re sat tight to his lap. Now all you want is to buck your hips. 

Seeing your mouth open, Eris presses the pad of his thumb to your clit, your words swiftly failing as your head hangs, too exhausted to hold yourself up anymore. “Feeling tired?” He croons, but there’s heat in his voice. You manage to lift your head to look at him but your eyes instead trail down his body, over his chest, his stomach, his abdomen, until you see where your bodies are joined. You tighten around him once and become abruptly aware of how deep he can go. How full he’s made you. 

Trying to clear your throat but failing, you avert your eyes. “Why haven’t you…?”

Eris smirks. “Why haven’t I…?” 

“Found…completion.” Eris scoffs, but strangely you don’t feel scorned. Maybe it’s something to do with the tender circles he’s putting into your hip with one hand. Skimming across the bare expanse. “You haven’t let me enjoy you long enough to find my pleasure,” he drawls, both hands now at your hips, tail rattling somewhere behind you. You blink. “But isn’t the whole point of this that you…?” 

His brow quirks and you flush. “I will,” he muses, “eventually.” 

“Eventually,” you echo. “How long?”

Eris considers. “At the rate you’re going…” He pauses. “Maybe three days?” 

“Three days!” You stare at him, mortified. You can’t do this for three days, and tell him as much. Eris cocks his head in mock sympathy. “Well, we could always keep going,” he muses, eyes gleaming. “You’re who I’m waiting on.” 

“Because I just-!” Frustration simmers beneath your flesh. You can’t keep going when you’re so sensitive. You need time for a break to cool off. You aren’t like him. “Fine,” you mumble, pushing a decisiveness into your voice that you don’t feel. You swallow. “Just keep going until you…find what you want.” You look to the shadows cast on the floor and wall, seeing how you’re joined together with his long tail coiling behind you. “It seems unfair that you should get nothing out of this…” 

“Believe me, I’m getting plenty out of this.” As if to emphasise, a fresh spill of release is pushed from the slit in his heat, hot enough you shudder as it slips down your thighs. A question passes through your mind. “Can you control that?” Eris raises a brow. “Can you control that?” You nod to his cocks, the cum leaking to his base, “The amount coming out?” He nods, and the liquid stops. Your brows furrow, “Why do you…? Oh.” The aphrodisiac. Right. 

“Anymore questions?” Eris grins wickedly. “I’d be happy to show you more answers.” You shake your head hurriedly, trying to press your fingers to his abdomen to keep the trembles away. Hopefully it won’t be too much. “You can start.” 

The smile Eris gives you is softer than any other he’s offered thus far, and you sit back onto him, letting your weight pull you down. “I’ll be gentle,” he reminds, and you flush. Unsure whether the warmth comes from embarrassment or appreciation. But then his lips curve themselves into a familiar tilt, “For as long as you want me to be.” 

You have half a mind to land a pat to his stomach to exhibit your annoyance but his large palms have wrapped themselves around your hips and an ungodly whimper slips from your lips as he lifts you to the top of his cock and drops you back down. Your eyes flutter, vision stuttering as he hits deep, pushing up cozily to a spongey part that’s soft and sensitive. Your mouth won’t work, tongue lolling just over your teeth, not out enough to brush your lower lip but more relaxed than dignified. 

Eris’ hips work, starting off gradual to re-accustom you to the slow, deep strokes he gives. His tail rattles and a shiver works its way briskly up your spine. He fills you up so well. 

“Feeling good?” Eris asks, and you manage a vague nod, trying to keep yourself balanced as he lifts you up and down. Trying your best to move with him, though he doesn’t need the help. He can move you just fine on his own, and has proved. 

“Come on,” he drawls, “you can do better than that.” 

“I…” You’re breathless. “Like…it…”

“Ready for a little more?” 

“More?” You manage, sounding dismayed. More?

Eris’ hips buck sharply and you cry out from the pleasure, mouth popping open as a gasp splits the quiet of the air. He raises a brow, “You like that a lot, don’t you?” Words form in your mind but don’t reach your lips, tongue feeling numb and far off. “Alright…let’s go a little harder.” Eris’ grip tightens on your hips, muscles flexing along his stomach and forearms and your stomach lurches as the speed increases, his hips bucking up to meet you as he slams you down. 

You babble from surprise, the pads of your fingers scrambling across his chest as you search for some kind of stability. He smirks then his tail once again wraps you in his powerful warmth, keeping you steady as you’re bucked forcefully enough to almost convince you he’s trying to kick you off. Your toes curl and your vision blurs as you feel the tightening of a third orgasm approaching. A whimper slips from your lips—maybe you shouldn’t have said you’d be fine without a break. He’s already reduced you to a babbling mess and it’s been a little more than a minute. 

A small dose of relief is afforded to you when you think you pick out a faint pink colouring his cheeks. But that could just be the flame. You hope it’s colour though. Hope he’s actually getting a little breathless. But it still looks like you’re going to reach your high first. 

“A little harder?” Eris asks, and this time you can tell it’s affecting him. His pupils are dilated and there’s more of a sheen on his chest, a jitteriness to the scales wrapped around your middle. You don’t even think as you nod your head, the pleasure leaving logical thoughts behind. Eager to experience his high of pleasure.  

Before you know it he’s flipped you over, back once again pressed into the fleece allowing him to target spots specifically, holding you down as his hips drive into you and you think you might scream. Breaths rapidly pant from your mouth, chest heaving as he keeps pounding you into the ground. The orgasm swells out of nowhere and you clamp your hands over your mouth to keep your noises muted, a part of you remembering your dignity. 

No sooner than your palm has lifted toward your mouth his hands have shackled your wrists and slammed them to the floor, hips bucking upwards as his amber eyes pierce down into you in warning, his earlier words passing through your mind. I’ll make you moan louder if you try to muffle them.

The third orgasm is overwhelming. More intense than the first and second ones combined and worse than making you moan louder, or making you scream or beg, he rips your voice away entirely. 

Your body tightens, strict stitches of pleasure knotting your muscles and binding you into a beautiful arched bow, drawn back to its full stretch before being released, tension sizzling throughout your body as your ties snap. Tears drip down into your hair and he doesn’t stop—continuing like you’d agreed. You can’t even swallow, struggling to breathe as liquid pleasure floods your lungs, like laughing so hard you become breathless except it’s heat and silver tingles and pure heaven that’s filling your body.

When his pace begins to slow you can’t help but look at him strangely. You’d told him it was okay—and it still is. You want more. You want it to last longer. Want him to put more into you. Until you can’t speak, breathe, moan, sob, or stare. 

“What?” You manage breathlessly, “What are you doing?” 

“That desperate for me?” He drawls, but there’s obvious strain in his jaw. “That hungry?”

“Keep going,” you breathe, arching into him, breasts pushing fully against his hard chest. “Don’t stop.” 

“It’ll feel better soon,” he promises, and you gasp a sob as he begins pulling away from you. His fingers replace the emptiness he’s left but it doesn’t compare and you writhe as they stroke and rub up against that spongey part. “Be good,” Eris chides in a whisper, hot breath ghosting your collar bones, making your nipples harden. “Behave and it’ll feel even better.” 

You can’t imagine him doing anything other than what had originally gotten you tossed into overstimulation ever getting you there again. He should keep fucking you like that. Why stop? 

Breath chokes in your throat as his fingers slide out, coated in thick slick, sliding further down between your thighs. He circles the tight ring of muscle once before slowly working his middle finger inside. 

You jerk, squirming on the fleece at the foreign feeling, wild heat flushing your features as you gasp and scold him repeatedly but he simply hushes you with that look of his. A mix of lust and comfort. Strangely reassuring. It doesn’t detract from the humiliation you feel when both his fingers slide in, slowly, so slowly and gently pushing and prodding further inside, steadily working you open with tentative touches. 

When his fingers withdraw, you breathe a sigh of relief. One that swiftly vanishes when you feel the head of the cock that had just been fucking you dumb push closer between your legs. You look at him, alarmed, but Eris leans down and pushes his mouth over your lips. His tongue flickers out, hot and rough and you moan at the sensation. The abrasive drag as he tastes the inside of your mouth. So pleasing you hardly notice as he lines his second cock up with your entrance, slicking himself up with his free hand as he prepares himself. 

Your arms wrap up over his shoulders, pulling him close enough that fiery red hair tickles your chest, pooling along the line of your collar bones, tickling your cheeks. 

Eris’ hips push forward gently and you arc up into him, Eris bowing over your body as his arm slips beneath the arch of your spine, holding you together as his mouth grazes your throat. The pressure is unimaginable; incomparable. So, full. You can’t even buck your hips. Can’t even shift them. This is what he needs? You guess it makes sense, in some distant part of your mind. If he has two, he’d want stimulation for both. 

“Can you-?” You gasp, unable to speak. “I want… Stop holding it back…” Eris raises from your neck to look down at you, brushing away strands of hair that have been stickily suctioned to your temple and forehead, sweat turning your skin silky. “I want to feel it…” You pant. Eris gets the message well enough, and moans begin dripping from your mouth as liquid begins once more leaking out inside of you. 

“I need you to open a bit more,” Eris whispers, so close you could kiss him again. Instead you stare up at him blankly—open up more? 

“Eris I can’t,” you plead, looking at him beseechingly. But he smiles, pressing another kiss to your mouth, tongue flicking across your nipped-at lower lip. “You can,” he assures, and breath is physically pushed from your lungs as his hands slide beneath the divots of your knees, taking care not to move too swiftly as he lifts your legs to your chest so his torso is cradled between your calves. The position creates just enough room, and you recall the swollen flare at his base like a knot, breath stopping entirely as you feel it slip in. 

You cry out from the pleasure, babbling hotly against his pretty, narrow lips, his serpentine tongue flickering as if he might drink your noises straight from your mouth. “Eris…” you whimper, “I- I can’t. I can’t.” 

“You’re already there,” he whispers. 

Heat pushes up from your flesh, seeping out as droplets of perspiration slide down the length of your spine, rolling along the curve of your breasts to drip down the side of your ribs, dampness gathered beneath the bend of your knees. Surely more at the nape of your neck, trickling back into your hair from your temples. 

Eris rolls you back over and you nearly slump on top of him. Would have, if it wasn’t for his tail coiling once more around your torso. He’s given you some time to adjust but the stretch is still… Your body aches just thinking about it. You can’t help the tears of relief that fall from your lashes that there’s no stinging from the pressure. Just gentle, firm heat. Nothing poking or prodding, just slowly filling you up as far as your body can take, and no further. Pushing your limits while taking exceptional care not to hurt them. Treasured. 

“Ready for movement?” Eris asks, looking up at you with darkened eyes that swirl with arousal, heavy clouds of smokey lust billowing behind his amber irises, pupils blown out wide. Could you deny him even without an aphrodisiac stripping you of sense? You can’t imagine it. 

You nod your head. 

With infinite care, he raises you from straddling his hips, far enough it’s just his head inside each hole, then supporting your weight as you come back down. On the first few goes you lean into his touch, letting him guide you safely. But once you become adjusted to the size, and the stretch, and the pressure, you become steady enough to make your own moves. 

Your hips circle once of their own accord, and Eris’ head tips back into the fleece from pleasure. A low, husky groan resounds off the cave walls, sparkling with humidity, and your insides flutter. Is that from you? Is it you making him do that? Heady power goes straight to your head, repeating the action to find out what he’ll do—if it’s as fun watching him come undone as he seemed to find it watching you fall apart. 

A strained moan breathes from his chest, hungry and needful and energy refills your body. You need him to crumble. 

“Eris?” You whisper, running your fingertips up over the muscles of his stomach, “Is this good?” You flex those inner muscles around him as you swirl your hips and his eyes slide shut, thumbs circling over the skin of your waist. “Should I do more?” You ask, bucking slightly as you begin sliding up and down. Your hands rise higher, running over his chest before dragging back down, the point of your nails lightly scraping over his stomach. 

Eris groans and his palms tremble where they’re wrapped around your hips, keeping a tight hold of you as you rock back and forth. “Are you finally feeling good now?” You murmur, half in a haze of pleasure, your head in the clouds. “Stop…saying things like that.” Comes his strained reply, low and rough in his throat. “Why?” You whisper, moving with more effort, wanting desperately to bring him more pleasure. “I want you to feel good… You still haven’t-”

Amber eyes pierce into you as the end of his tail bands around your jaws, silencing your words. You peer down at his tail, whimpering as you watch him, making sounds that before you would have been too embarrassed to make. “I don’t want to… I’m going to be gentle with you.” 

There’s resolve in his voice that needs breaking.

You make a small noise in your throat of discomfort and his tail releases you, but instead you lean forward and allow your tongue to loll over your lower lip as you take a slow lick up his rattle. 

Eris’ eyes widen, fingers shaking on your hips as his chest rapidly rises and falls, unable to look away. You explore the shape of him, tracing your tongue around the tip experimentally, liking the feel of having something to do with your mouth. Preoccupying your tongue. You whimper, and Eris tentatively slides the rattle forward, pushing past your lips. Heat tingles through your body and you aren’t sure if he’s even getting any stimulation from this or whether he’s just transfixed by the sight. 

With a final circle of your tongue you pull away, licking your lips. “I don’t want gentle anymore.” You press a wet kiss to the end of his tail. “I want you to cum.” 

Eris’ hands put bruises into your hips and you’re able to feel the influx of hot liquid inside of you. Excitement bubbles away in your abdomen. It all feels good and you can’t help but want more. 

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he bites out, tail writhing behind you, sending shadows scrambling across the walls. You nod. It’s enough for him, because the next thing you know he’s raising you from his hips, lifting you into the air so only the head of his cocks remain inside of you, sticky strands of slick webbing between your bodies and then he’s bringing his hips up to meet yours. 

The breath is knocked from your body, sound rendered useless. Toes curl, thighs spasm, mouth opens. Fingers scrambling for purchase. 

Now he’s keeping you aloft in the air, no longer sliding you up and down but pounding you from beneath. You lose track of how long it goes on for, unable to move as he keeps you still through that grip on your hips. Every buck hits a spot, every thrust has your clit brushing his abdomen, every subtle roll he adds makes you want to cry. Tears spill down your cheeks—it feels so good but it’s so much to take. And he’s muttering under his breath, words so fast you struggle to hear unless you pay attention. Mine, and perfect. Curses interrupted by moans. Breathless praises and sounds that seem almost pleading. 

You gasp as hot cum pours into your body, flooding you as it begins pumping out down your thighs, unable to contain all of it. With every fresh wave your sensitivity is heightened, and when his right thumb lowers between your thighs to press on your clit and pull upwards you spiral. 

The world tips and your view is spotted through with strange colours, dots of iridescence dance and it’s all you can do to remain present. 

You’ve never felt like this before. 

His name screams from your lungs, time after time after time, every slam of his hips making it spill again and again. Even through the haze of pleasure you know it lasts longer than it should. His powerful body slicked in sweat and muscles flexing in his stomach, the perspiration on his chest making it obvious with each heaving breath he takes down. He keeps going, his touch unrelenting. 

By the time Eris’ orgasm has seemingly faded his hands are trembling, tail barely strong enough to lift from the ground, completely and utterly spent. With nothing to hold you upright any longer you flop forward onto his chest, uncaring for the mess. His skin is feverishly hot but you suppose so is your own. 

The fire is still crackling in the centre of the cave but no longer bothers you. Now you’ve flopped forward there’s nothing keeping his lengths inside of you save for the knot still stuffed in your cunt, plugging you up as best it can to keep his cum nestled inside. A single amber eye slides open, enough to gaze down at where you’ve tucked yourself against him. “Are you…okay…?” He asks, still gathering his breath. You nod your head, not wishing to speak just yet. 

A smile curves his mouth. “I didn’t think you’d be able to take it so well,” he murmurs, lifting a single hand to stroke hair from your sweat-slicked forehead. “I thought I was prepared to wait weeks until you’d be ready to go long enough…” His expression shifts, something like concern filling his gaze. “Are you certain…you’re okay?” 

“I’ve never felt so good,” you croak. 

It’s insufficient to say so. Nothing in your life compares to the highs of tonight, the adrenaline rush of lying with a creature like him. Learning the different way he fucks. 

You curl tighter into his body, nosing at his skin. Shimmying high enough up his body that you can run your tongue up a part of his neck, tasting sweat in your mouth. So distinctly him. 

Eris shudders underneath you, a final few ounces of cum squeezed from his tip into your cunt, held inside by his knot. 

With surprisingly tender hands he rubs soothingly up and down your sides, both of you exhausted. A small part of you is proud that even he needs a break—one he hadn’t expected to take. If you’d had more energy you would have gloated about it, but with the way he’s holding you, you can’t be bothered. The promise of care and warmth is too alluring. 

You shift your hips and his knot nudges a sensitive part inside of you, making you tighten around him. Eris tenses beneath you before releasing a shuddering exhale. “How long is that going to last?” You mumble sleepily, curiosity the only thing keeping you awake. Eris sighs, and you whine when he rolls his hips tentatively. “Relax,” he encourages, “it’ll go down in a couple of hours.” 

Your brows furrow. “A few hours?” You repeat, but your cheek is smushed against his chest and your eyes have fallen shut. “I’ll explain more later,” Eris shushes, stroking the crown of your head, “when you’re more awake.” 

You can’t argue with that, and frankly don’t want to. There’ll be more to discuss once you wake, but that will be for later. Right now you can hear the deep beat of his heart, your ear pressed close enough to his chest you’re able to feel every beat faintly pulse against your cheek. You never thought you’d come close enough to a naga to hear the tempo of its heart, and yet here you are, happy about it. 

You find yourself anticipating waking, the knot still stuffed in your cunt promising more pleasure, and the warm wrap of his arms around your back promising the home you’ve always secretly wanted. His fingers still awake just enough to be leaving small patterns against your skin, soothing you into sleep with him. 

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna @acoazlove

eris taglist: @feerique

[rubyin-wonderland]

Guilt

opla!Zoro x gn!reader

Summary: Under the control of a hypnotist, Zoro is forced to hurt you. How are you going to heal?

WC: 4.4k

Warnings/tags: blood, injuries, torture, getting stabbed, a shit ton of angst, fluff at the end

The forest stretches endlessly out around you, giving you the impression of complete isolation, despite the danger lurking all around.

You aren't completely alone, thankfully. Zoro stands with you as you traverse the forest, pushing through the bushes to hopefully find some way out of this hellish situation.

Hypnotists hide in the forest with you, prepared to take control of you with a single look. You need to escape, but that seems impossible this deep in the forest.

The sun has been completely blocked out with a blanket of branches and leaves held above your head. It must still been day since you can see, but there is no direct sunlight and there hasn't been since you entered.

You hold onto Zoro's arm like a child, eyes darting back and forth across your surroundings in case anything or anyone jumps out.

Zoro allows you to hold his arm, his hand holding yours. "It's okay." He says, still looking ahead. "We're gonna be okay." It's for him to hear as much as you.

You know it would be unwise to stop. You need to escape, but your legs ache and you are exhausted.

"I need to stop." You mumble, keeping your pace nonetheless. "We can't stop." You resist the urge to whine. That certainly wouldn't help. "I know."

"We'll walk for a few more minutes and then stop, okay?" He suggests quietly, trying to compromise. You hum a yes and nod, trying to keep up before you hear something, stopping dead in your tracks.

"Just a few more minutes." He tries to spur you into motion, but you look up at him, fear in your eyes.

"Something's there." You press your back to his, your natural place when preparing for a fight.

You hear footsteps from behind you and instinctively close your eyes. That way you can't be hypnotized.

You feel Zoro reach for his swords, drawing them from their sheaths, at the ready.

Then something happens. He freezes against your back and you know something is wrong. You take a step away as he spins around, swinging where you had been standing.

Hypnotized.

Your blood runs cold as you see his face, completely void of emotion. No soft smile or mild frown. It's a blank slate, there is emptiness behind his eyes. He's a puppet for the man standing behind him.

His posture is rigid. It's like someone turned him into a mannequin. There is no protectiveness about him. No kindness. He is not there. He's just a vessel. His swords are already drawn.

You run back into the forest, drawing your own sword to defend yourself, moving as fast as your legs will allow you.

The men follow you as you run, but as long as you don't look the hypnotist in the eyes you're safe.

Zoro follows close behind you, eventually tackling you to the ground, knocking the wind out of you.

As you gasp for air, he breaks out of the hold the hypnotist has on him, loosening his grip on your arms.

He looks confused and for a second you want to kiss him for coming back to you, but you know as soon as the hypnotist reaches the two of you the control will take over again.

You break away from him, taking off into the bushes, getting air in staggered breaths.

You look back to see Zoro go rigid again, the simple action causing you to stumble over a root, hitting the ground hard.

Zoro takes his time now, the hypnotist doesn't want to let him go. You stand, trying to regulate your breathing before holding your sword out, preparing to duel.

He lunges at you, but you're lucky. The hypnotist doesn't know how to use his swords. The movements are sloppy and leave plenty of space for you to attack.

You don't attack, though. That's still Zoro. Not right now, but inside he is, and you can't shake that. You can't hurt him.

You dodge his attacks easily, he gives you more than enough time to block. The fight would have a clear winner if you were to actually attack him.

He continues to slash at you wildly as you begin to scream for help. If any of the others can hear you they'll come to help. Hopefully.

You manage to knock him off balance, immediately taking off into the woods again, calling out for anyone.

You run fast and Zoro follows behind you, staying in the trance from the hypnotist, swords at the ready.

You don't look back. You just keep screaming, your legs burning under you. You keep running until your legs physically give out under you.

This time, when you hit the forest floor, you don't get up. You just lay there, heart pounding in your ears, your voice cut short by the fall.

You feel hands grabbing you, turning you over on your back so you can see what's about to happen to you.

Zoro sits above you, his weight holding you to the ground. Your elbows are pinned to your sides. You can't move. You can't escape.

Your sword fell out of your hand when you hit the ground and it now sits out of your reach.

His swords are discarded as well, the hypnotist likely knowing how to use fists far better than blades.

Instead of calling for your friends, you try to get through to Zoro. He lands the first blow against your face and you resist the urge to crack.

It isn't him. It isn't.

Zoro would never hurt you.

He's being controlled.

It's not him.

You hope that by some miracle he'll be able to break through the hypnosis with the power of love, but you can tell it's a silly idea.

Still, you try.

"Zoro! Zoro please! Try to come back please!"

Your begs are cut short by him forcing a forearm against your windpipe. Your voice struggles as he slowly suffocates you.

He adjusts himself at some point and your arms free themselves, reaching up to force his forearm away from his throat, your legs kicking under him.

You are struck by the blankness of his face. So much so that you force your eyes shut. You think it would be easier to handle if he looked angry. His appearance is uncanny. There's no exertion on his features. He's just staring at you, blinking occasionally. There's nothing.

It would be easier if he looked like he had a reason to hurt you. Any emotion. Even joy. You'd prefer seeing joy over this void.

You can't tell if it's worse that he's hurting you or that it looks like he doesn't even care. You know, you know that it's because of the hypnosis that he looks like this, but it's killing you.

You know deep down that he isn't even conscious. He is asleep in his brain while being controlled. He doesn't even know his body is doing this.

It's a small mercy to think at least he won't be tortured with these memories. He won't be able to see his forearm pressed against your neck as you beg him to stop.

He eventually removes his arm from your neck, allowing you to breathe. You can scream for help again. He wrangles your arms back to your sides and leans forward to grab your sword.

His knee digs into your side as he examens the blade. You begin pleading like your life depends on it. In a way, it does.

Maybe you'll be able to contact the sleeping consciousness in his head and wake it up. Have him take over again. You can only hope.

"Zoro, let me go. Zoro, please, please stop this." You start to cry. It's pathetic but it's your only defense at the moment. You can't hurt him.

He moves the sword against your arm, dragging the blade across your skin, watching the red line appear and begin to bleed.

You can feel the blood trickle down your arm as he moves to your opposite shoulder, drawing a line across it, 'accidentally' scratching the skin of your cheek with the pointed tip of the sword.

You continue to scream and cry and beg. You need your crewmates. You need backup.

You watch as Zoro lines up the blade perpendicular to the ground, the tip sitting on your bleeding shoulder.

"No." You say the word as if it will stop him. Nothing else has. He's still emotionless. Still being controlled.

You feel the blade plunge through your shoulder one second before Zoro's body relaxes.

His eyes go wide and his brow furrows as he tries to understand what just happened. When he sees his hands wrapped around the hilt of your sword, buried in your shoulder, his hands drop it. He's terrified.

He gets pulled off of you and he just sits there, watching as Nami approaches you.

You've never seen Zoro so scared. And yet it's a miracle to see anything on his face.

You're more focused on the pain radiating from your shoulder, trying to pull away from it. You hold back the urge to scream, groaning instead

Nami lifts you up, supporting you against a tree. You can see her mouth moving, asking questions, but your vision drifts to Zoro, who sits confined within the hold of the rest of the crew.

His eyes are haunted. They're talking to him but he isn't listening.

Your eyes meet and you're glad they finally do. He's there. He's back in there. He's him.

The sword juts out of your shoulder, standing up, supported by your body. Nami removes it, launching you into another pained yell before trying to silence yourself.

Nami is quick to work with a field dressing, patching up the bloody wound and covering up the cut on your arm. You'll need more help when you get out of the forest, but it does the job for now.

Nami doesn't try to get any answers from you. She just wipes the the blood and dirt off your arm and hastily wraps it up.

You read her lips and listen hard to understand her. She says you're so close to the edge of the forest. You're thankful, but fear eats away at you. It consumes your mind, squirming through your guts.

You want to throw up, or sob, or both. You end up crying, every other breath interrupted by gagging, but since you haven't eaten all day, nothing comes out.

You can see Zoro and the boys watching this and as much as it hurts to see him scared, you're still glad you can see his emotions.

He's horrified. Fear and grief rush across his face. He knows he did this to you. His eyes briefly dart to the man lying on the ground. Unconscious. He can't take control anymore. He doesn't have to. He's done enough damage.

Your hearing slowly returns and you look at Nami. "What happened?" You know what happened. You remember every grimy detail. You just want the slim chance of being told that it was a dream. A hallucination. That it hadn't actually happened.

"One of those hypnotists found you. He took control of Zoro. He was forced to attack you."

You nod, numb. You want to talk about how scary it was, but Zoro is sitting right there, eyes full of concern, staring right at you. His focus never wavers.

You let your head fall against the tree. You just want to go back to the ship. "I wanna go." You mumble at the ground, feeling hollow.

"Let's get you back to the ship." She helps you up and after some silent discussion, an arrangement is made.

Zoro walks at the very front of the group, next to Luffy and you walk at the back, supported by Nami. This way you have the feeling of security and confirmation that he won't attack you.

You know he won't. Since the hypnotist is out of the picture, everything should be alright. And yet, your brain replays the pain. The fear itches at you and there's a sinking feeling in your stomach.

Zoro wouldn't hurt you of his own accord, but he could be forced into doing it.

You try not to think about how any of the people around you could be manipulated into doing the same.

Sanji and Usopp stand as a buffer between Zoro an you, like some sort of extra protection. You feel like it's excessive, but you don't say anything. Neither does Zoro.

You can tell Zoro wants to look back at you. You see muscles in his neck twitch as he debates looking at you, making sure you're okay.

He turns around once, and you flinch. It's not intentional and it drives shards of ice through your stomach. You're scared of him.

As you walk, you realize the strange fact that Zoro shouldn't apologize. Nothing about this situation was his fault. The actions done against you aren't his. He has no reason to apologize. It's not his fault, but you know the hypnotist isn't going to feel the guilt.

This is the kind of experience that would bring you to his side, snuggling deep into his arms, trying to escape the feeling of your attacker. But when it was him who had attacked you, you didn't know what to do. You craved his touch, but it was his touch that had hurt you in the first place. The arms that kept you warm and protected had suffocated you. The hands that usually wiped away your tears had driven the blade into your shoulder.

You can't stop thinking about it. It replays over and over again in your head. You see Zoro's face hovering over yours. You feel him hurting you. It makes your heart break.

You have to stop for a second when you realize that you don't think you can be left alone with him. Not after that horrific encounter.

Out of the forest finally, you see the sun. It isn't a good sign. It's a dawn on this new trauma.

A doctor fixes you up properly, telling you to rest and what to do and what to eat and drink. You barely listen. Everything is wrong.

There's a celebration for your acts of heroism. For freeing the town from those hypnotists who have been controlling them for years. You don't enjoy it. You pretend like nothing happened in the forest. That your injuries were accidents, and earned in a direct altercation with a hypnotist. A lie, and a terrible one. You and Zoro stand far apart whenever necessary.

You don't know how to feel. You aren't angry at him. You don't blame him. He did nothing wrong. The hypnotist is to blame. But every time you tell yourself that, you flash back to the forest floor, watching Zoro position your sword over your shoulder.

That night, you sleep alone in the room you usually share with Zoro. He bunks with the boys.

The room is empty, but you can't sleep next to him. Every inch of you is simultaneously asking to run into his arms and force yourself as far away from him as possible.

The crew leaves in the morning, without much discussion. The boat just floats away from the harbour, leaving a horrific scene behind you.

For the first few days, you handle things without much trouble. You do your best to avoid thinking about the situation and risk getting riled up. You are forced to stay in bed, which makes the task of not thinking about it much harder, but there's usually someone there to accompany you.

Zoro doesn't visit. You suspect he doesn't want to hurt you further by appearing like a memory of what you've just experienced, but it doesn't feel right to not have him there. The others don't ask if you want to see him for fear of agitating you and you don't say anything about it because your mouth zips up of its own accord any time you ask about him coming to see you.

"How is Zoro?" You finally force out one day, during Nami's visit. You trust her to give it to you straight. "He's not doing good. He blames himself." You shake your head. "It's not his fault."

Nami sighs. "We know. He's the one having trouble. He misses you, but he doesn't want to visit and scare you." She looks over, an unspoken question finally coming to light.

"Do you want him to visit?" She watches the way your mouth closes and your body freezes, stopping you from answering. "You can say no. I won't tell him that you did."

You don't answer, the ever present conflict in your head raging on. You sit on the bed, feeling emotionally exhausted as your silence answers for you.

"That's okay. Take your time. Sanji will bring you dinner later, okay?" You just nod, mouth wired shut. It's too much.

For the first few nights, you sleep out of exhaustion, but once you're caught up on sleep, it wears off.

You suddenly can't sleep at night. You'll wake up at random times for no reason and it takes incredible amounts of willpower to get back to sleep.

It's midnight, and you don't even feel tired. Your thoughts return to him, defending him while your brain tries to fight you off with images of him hurting you.

The bruise on your neck has almost disappeared, and your arm is much better. You suspect the stab wound will have a scar, but the cut managed to heal quite well, only a slight line remaining on your skin.

In the morning, you are expected to make your grand return, allowed out of bed, but as of right now, you need to get out. The world is sour and you can't stay in the room you are supposed to share with Zoro any longer.

You step outside, hoping whoever's on watch duty understands that you need this.

Initially, you want to find Zoro and just see him. Know that he's safe. That he's still there, even if your mind can only conjure images from that fateful day.

You pass by the boys' room without stopping. You don't want to rouse them from their sleep anyways, so you just walk around outside.

The cool night air wraps around you, making you shiver. Your skin comes alive with small bumps in reaction to the chill.

The sky is clear and the water is calm. It's a perfect night. There's no wind, at best it's a breeze, and only the sounds of water lapping at the hull of the ship to help lull people to sleep.

You sit on the deck, staring out at the water, vast, blue, and unforgiving. You feel something bubble up in you, but it's as if the bubbles are made of tar, floating lazily upwards, popping and coating your insides with a sticky, black ichor.

You feel sick, but not like you're about to throw up. You just feel wrong.

You forgot the night watch schedule, who wouldn't after what you'd been through, but it means that Zoro is the first to see you out of your room. He shirks his duties slightly, focusing his attention on you.

He faces your back, watching uneven breaths take your body. He isn't sure if he should go inside and wake someone else up to deal with this. He isn't sure of anything. He can't stop envisioning you after he was freed from the control. Eyes wide, bleeding profusely from a wound brought on by his hand. He feels completely unable to do anything to help you.

He hasn't seen you since the celebration back on the island. Even then he had kept his distance.

You seem to have healed well, you've regained some movement in your shoulder, limited as it is. He's grateful that you haven't been hurt permanently. That would be awful.

He takes a step towards the rooms, planning to fetch Nami, he thinks she'll be the best help you can get, but his foot drags and you pick up on the noise, whipping around to face him.

You look up at the elevated deck he stands on, both of you are frozen in place. He looks blank again. But not in the way the hypnotist had done it. Instead of a lack of emotion, there's too much. He has so much to feel, and only a limited space to express it.

Concern and worry are visible on his face and you remind yourself that this is Zoro. He doesn't want to hurt you. He would never intentionally hurt you. He loves you and he wants you to be safe.

You mind counters this with reminders of how it felt to struggle beneath him, unable to get through to him, to bring him back.

After a while, he takes a cautious step forwards. You don't move away.

"Can we talk?" The question is one you've heard him ask once, when he first confessed his feelings to you.

He doesn't typically engage in conversation, but times are difficult. Changes need to be made. You take him up on his offer.

"Yes. Come down here." Your words are stilted and sound forced. Your heart pounds in your chest as he comes down to you, every movement careful and precise.

When he reaches the same level as you, he keeps his distance, backed up against the railing, allowing you to make the boundary.

He's never been good with this kind of thing. Vulnerability. It isn't easy for him. Which surprises you even more when he begins the conversation.

"Is there anything I can do? To help?" You stare blankly for a second before shrugging. "I don't know." You want everything to stop. You can't stand it.

"I'll keep my distance, if that's what you want." "I don't." The words slip out without warning. For once, your body doesn't stop you from trying to reach out to him. It's the truth. If it's going to hurt with or without him, you want him anyways.

"I want," you search for the words, forcing your head down, staring at the deck. "You. With me." You say it to the wooden boards of the deck, trying to keep yourself balanced as the pent up emotions threaten to overtake you.

"But I need to go back to the start. With the touching." You're surprised at how well the words come out.

Zoro hadn't been overly touchy before you were together, but after a while, the two of you were nearly always touching in some way. He already misses it, but he knows he'll do whatever it takes. You're worth it.

"Yes. Of course." He bows his head to you, nervously.

You think back to the beginning. The first days with him. Small touches. Nothing too strong. Brushing hands, gently pressing against each other when there was no room for personal space.

He used to kiss your hand.

It had made you laugh when he first did it, mocking some romantic man the two of you had been watching. It grew into a joke, and then it was serious. Any time he wanted to make you smile, he would kiss your hand.

And so, as an offering of new beginnings, you slowly walk across the deck towards him, pushing away the memories from that day.

He stays still, trying not to scare you. You take his hand and he lets you guide it up towards your face. His hand is warm in yours.

"Start small." You whisper to yourself, reminding him of the way you spoke to him in the beginning.

"Let's start small." He had said, knowing neither of you were ready to dive in, to have the full experience off the bat.

"Okay." He said quietly, barely a breath in the wind. You lift his hand up, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it.

He's glad it's dark and nobody else can see him because his face is as red as they come.

You can tell though. The slightly flustered look is all you need to see to know he's the exact same shade as a tomato.

You smile and his heart flutters.

"I love you Zoro." The words start to flow easier and for a brief moment things feel normal again. "It's nobody's fault, but I'm sorry we have to do this."

He resists the urge to lean over and kiss your forehead. "I tried to attack him. It's my fault we're in this mess."

You let go of his hand and turn your face serious, watching him carefully. "It was nobody's fault. Not mine, not yours, not Luffy or Usopp or Nami's either. The blame lies on that damned man and his hypnotic eyes. And it's over now. Nothing can be done about it." Zoro nods and reaches out a hand, an offering for you to take, if you should want it.

"To new beginnings?" He says gently and you can tell he doesn't expect you to take his hand. Maybe to surprise him, you do.

Your injured arm raises up, the fingers slide between his, lightly holding him. His fingers wrap around your hand, light enough to let you pull away without resistance should you have to. He's strangely good at helping you.

The two of you sit in silence, your hands sitting between you.

Carefully, you try something risky. You lower your hands and move closer. You just want to try. To know if it feels awful.

You press your body to his and he is deathly still. His breath hitches and you wonder if he knows you can tell he's about to cry.

You wrap your free arm around his body, giving him a gentle squeeze. "Your turn." You mumble into his chest. You feel his arm move. Your heart jumps, but you can't tell if it's out of fear or love. You decide to let it happen anyways.

His arm carefully wraps around your back, holding you to him.

You look up to see a single tear dripping down his face, a sight that makes you want to cry yourself.

You decide that you need this. You cry in his embrace as well. It feels like normalcy. It feels like home.

You separate after a while. It's a bittersweet parting, but your hands stay together.

"Tomorrow, please come back to our room." You say quietly. You don't know how this will work, but you know it will, and that's enough.

To new beginnings indeed.

[penvisions]

zest {chapter four}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Time is a funny thing, isn't it? You and Joel traverse the ups and downs of the pregnancy, doing your best to keep up.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: canon typical language, reader is canonically mid-size and of hispanic origin, adult content, smut, oral (f receiving), use of daddy, age gap, utter filth between two infatuated people, p in v, unprotected p in v, pet names (darling, baby, love), teasing as a form of flirting -they're insufferable your honor, serious conversations, confessions of feelings of inadequacy, mentions of family trauma and drama, reader is in her own head in this, talks of pregnancy and childbirth, slight angst, road trip vibes, slight time jump(s), the photos used in the header are only a rough head cannon of what reader looks like and mostly for the ~vibes - nothing is set in absolute stone, i think that's it!

Fic Notes: this is a sequel series; the previous fic can be found here -> {garnish}

A/N: so proud of myself for not forcing this chapter, letting it sit and my mind wander about them as a whole for a few months really helped me to find my way back to them. special shoutout to @tuquoquebrute for sending in an ask ages ago for a baby shower scene, i hope it's everything you imagined and more

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The hotel room is bathed in soft pink sunlight that glows through the drawn curtains, closed in the wake of your slight headache. But it’s the last thing on your mind as you let out a low, drawn-out moan. Your back is flush with the soft bed, unmade and the sheets are tangled and falling off the edge of it as Joel is nestled in them. Using them as a cushion for his knees atop the plush carpet of the room, just for an added comfort as he firmly holds your hips in place lavishes his tongue in swooping swirls over your clit.

You’re drenched, slick coating his lips and face as he buries it between your thighs. His grip tight around your thighs as he holds them open, ever so effortlessly keeping them from snapping shut around his ears as he practically makes out with your core. It’s messy the way your arousal seeps from you, coating his face, his saliva mixed in and running in thick drips down to soak the white sheets of the hotel bed.

The feel of his warm tongue tracing over your puffy lips and swollen nub, his thick fingers curled inside you and hitting that perfect spot that makes you clench tightly around them. The feel of his proud nose buried in the thatch of thick curls that sit right above it all, soaked too from the devotion he’s giving to you as the sun begins to peek up above the horizon.

The swell of your stomach prevents you from seeing anything other than the sweaty curls plastered to his forehead, the heat in the room and between your humming bodies stifling in the best way.

“My sweet girl, always taste so fucking good.” He pulls pleasure from your body like it’s his sole purpose in life, gently moving his fingers in and out as you throw your head back to shout out his name and clench tightly around them. His tongue replaces them as he licks up the release that smears across your inner thighs, scruff tingling over your skin in an overwhelming way.

“Ah, Joel, ‘s too much, baby.” He moves you up into the center of the bed, crawling over you. The heft of his cock drags over your thighs, smearing glistening precum as it does. And you whine, as he takes himself in the thick curl of his hand and taps the swollen head against your clit. Your hips jerk, you clench around nothing and his dark chuckle

“I think you like it,” He’s dragging himself through your slick folds, head catching just slightly against your entrance each time he does.

“F-fuck off,” You can’t help but slur, the empty threat cut off in a sharp gasp as he suddenly fills you, hands gripping around your knees to wrap them around his waist. He throbs where he’s nestled, and it makes your head swim.

“That’s such bad language, momma,” He tuts, teeth glinting as he smirks down at you. “Why don’t I work it all out of you before the baby comes, hmm?”

"Y-yes, daddy."

All you can do is dig your nails into his shoulders and hold on for dear life as he begins to snap his hips into the cradle of yours, pushing you both up the length of the bed with the force of his movements. In the back of your mind, you’re sure the people on the other side of the wall must hate your guts for being the annoying couple who can’t seem to keep their hands off of each other.

But honestly, you couldn’t care less. You’d take being the annoyingly smitten couple over being the one where sex becomes a routine, choreographed dance that takes place Tuesday nights with no lights on and underneath the covers. You’d take Joel at his most feral and spilling filth from sinfully delicious lips to the soft, slow and syrupy mornings any time, any day, for the rest of your life.

“Joel, I just really wanna go home, take a nice hot bath and get into bed before I have to start planning out the summer semester syllabus.” You feel the fatigue of the trip catching up with you, no matter how much fun it had been. The perfect little getaway has drained you as you enter your second trimester, body working overtime now, but thankfully the nausea seems to have worn off.

Beside you, Joel reaches out a hand to palm your thigh, understanding and concern wafting off of his focused frame in such an easy way. His brows furrow as he glances down at his phone in the cupholder when the screen flashes with a notification.

“C’mon, just lemme stop at the restaurant to grab somethin’ real quick. Check on Ellie, she’s been blowing up my phone about when we get back.” His voice holds your attention more than his words, it’s dipped low, almost a deep whine as he takes your hand in his and raises it to press a kiss to the top of it.

Your new ring catches the sunlight and softens you just as much as the man’s words. He’s such a good father, to the two kids he’s raised all alone. He’s a good man, who even if he prolongs the return to the house, who only wants to look out for those in his care.

“Joel,” You can’t help the whine of your own voice, lips pouting as the man turns a conflicted expression your way as his fingers tighten where they tangle with yours.

“I’ll make it worth your while, darlin’, please?”

“Fine, but I want truffle pasta for dinner.” You jostle his hand in yours, setting them atop your thigh.

“Done.”

Half an hour later, he pulls up to the front of the restaurant, parking the truck on the curb outside the public entrance. He rolls the windows down and you do a double take. There are colorful balloons floating in the gentle breeze, bouncing against each other. They make you smile even as you remember what a hassle parties were as a member of the food industry. You only hope that those on shift were adequately caffeinated and compensated for the hell they were about to endure.

Joel disappears through the front entrance, little bell dinging happily and he’s not gone but one second before he’s at the passenger door. He’s pulling it open from the unlocked handle, looking at you with a small smirk through the lowered pane of glass as you enjoy the breeze through the open window.

“Sweet girl, need you to step in for a second.”

“I’m all road tripped out, dios mio, Joel.” You groan out, really just wanting to be back him and swaddled in clean, fluffy blankets. “I need a bath and some serious skincare.”

He only raises a thick brow and you motion to the slightly wrinkled sundress you’re wearing, the slight bump of your stomach visible beneath the flowing fabric and the seatbelt over your lap. Your hair is pulled up into a haphazard clip in the back with the grown out fringe you had cut over the holidays framing your face. He promises that you look good, the light face of tinted lotion and mascara you put on alongside a natural lip good enough for what he wanted to show you.

Grumbling, you retrieve you phone from the center console beside his. Both phones are pushed into the hands that help you to step out and down from the taller cab.

“Better not be your way of getting me to-“ Your thoughts of helping to check over a liquor purchase fly out the window as soon as your eyes catch the bright scene laid out before you.

Your mouth falls open as you walk through the door being held open by Joel. The entire dining room is done up with sage green tablecloths, more balloons, and fresh flowers are everywhere from the center of the tables to the ledge of the bar. There’s a giant banner over the wall that houses the door to the kitchen. Donning the words ‘CONGRATS ON GETTING KNOCKED UP’. Below it is another slightly smaller one that says ‘AND GETTING ENGAGED TOO, I GUESS’. You snort at the phrasing, knowing that it had to have been a battle at the printers to get it done. And when you breathe air back into your lungs, the smell of fried food makes your stomach growl. Your face breaks out into a wide grin when you see Sarah and Ellie approaching you with their own wide smiles.

They’ve got a crown of flowers, you favorite. Sarah fixes your hair, loose from the clip it had been in and Ellie fastens it in place with a few bobby pins.

“Ready to celebrate, cause we sure as hell are!” Ellie exclaims while Sarah jumps up and down in front of you both, buzzing with energy she seems to have endlessly.

It’s a blur of greetings and photos, of laughter and mocktails. Your hunger from the drive forgotten as you just enjoy the time with your friends and acquired family. Maria and Tommy are floating around alongside the girls to ensure everything is going smoothly, soft music playing over the speakers and presents are placed on their own table. There are so many and you feel choked up over the outpouring of love and support from the community you found in a city so far away from the one you come from.

A lot of the staff from the restaurant are here too, the tightly knit group of about twenty or so from the kitchen staff to the servers. All showing their appreciation and excitement for you and Joel as you navigate this part of your lives. It means so much to you that they didn’t judge you for leaving them to do what you wanted, for focusing on yourself and landing the teaching job you always wanted.

Sure, the timing isn’t right. You’ve only done two semesters, going into a third summer one in a few weeks, but you will make it work. Either offer an online course once your maternity leave is up or even take Joel up on his offer to cut his hours to weekends so he can look after the little one during your proposed class times once you decide to go back to work. Who knows? All of it needs to be discussed, and you’re slowly wading through the conversations as they crop up and thoughts are had.

No pressure, he said. To talk about things unless you wanted to and you pressed the same assurance into his skin with your whispered words.

After the first hour or so, you’re seated with Millie and your best friend at an empty table. Both of them gifting you cards with promises to babysit and bring you takeout any time you needed it as you traverse the remainder of your pregnancy and once the baby is born.

“Look at you, hot momma. Landed the head chef and a baby all in one move. You guys are going to have the cutest fucking baby.” Nia caresses a hand over your shoulder, her nails a light scratch over your skin that feels really good as small waves of anxiety begin to wash over you. She knows, she can see it. Has always been able to see it, you lean into her, resting your head on her shoulder as she pivots to wrap her arms around you. “You deserve it, you deserve everything.”

“Do you know what the gender is yet?” Millie is smiling at the casual intimacy you both display, thinking back to all the nights you two displayed the same after a rough shift, all the smoke breaks and nights out that you shared. Friendship melting her heart, your happiness melting her heart after seeing what a rough year you had endured before this.

“We find out later this week, my blood work came back a little funky last time so instead of an ultrasound, they hooked me up to an IV and told me to rest for a bit while they monitored some stuff.”

“It’s the stuff from your dad’s side, isn’t it?” Nia’s arms tighten around you, worries spoken knowing the things you don’t like to share.

“Yeah, but it’s nothing to worry about. I’m pretty sure it was just elevated blood pressure which for me would be a normal reading and my blood sugar was a little high. They worry about diabetes, but she said my body is just trying to figure out how to process things and find a new balance with this little one taking up so much room now.” You hold a hand to your stomach, gently rubbing at the hardness you feel there now. Soft curves make up your frame, but your stomach is swollen a little more than typical for your physique, giving away the pregnancy now.

“He looks so grumpy.” Mille giggles around her sip of tonic water with grenadine. You follow her gaze and see Joel standing over the table covered in dishes and desserts. His hands are on his hips and he’s frowning as he dissects all the offerings. He almost seems lost in thought with the way his lips purse and roll, pulling a giggle from you too.

“That’s the ‘there ain’t nothin’ here I wanna eat’ look.”

At your stage whispered words, he looks up over at you and his brow furrows even deeper. You haven’t wandered over to the table yourself but he quickly looks back down at it as your trio breaks into a full on fit of laughter. He begins making a plate before heading your way and you try to school your expression even as your heart picks up a tick.

“Gonna make you that pasta you wanted, but here’s a few things to tide you over, momma.” And he’s setting the laden ceramic down with a wink before moving back across the dining room to disappear through the swinging door into the kitchen.

“He calls you momma? Oh my god, swoon.” Nia fans herself with her napkin as she looks your way.

“Do you ever call him ‘daddy’?” Millie’s question is conspiratorial as she leans in, as if afraid he might hear her even through the walls and light hum of conversation that fills the room.

You quickly help yourself to the food he brought over, avoiding both their eyes as you do so. Heat flares high in your cheeks and down your neck, the word bringing up memories that glitter across your skin.

“Oh. My. God. You do.” Nia sets her drink down and stares at you in awe.

“I mean, I would call him daddy if he asked me to.” Millie whispers as she sneaks a chocolate covered strawberry from your plate.

“He didn’t have to ask me.” Is all you say around a mouthful of food at the same time Nia exclaims that’s her boss.

“He started off as this one’s boss too!” She defends, her reprimand falling short as her expression cracks and giggles erupt into the air.

“Yeah, that was part of the fun.” You smirk, remembering the first time it slipped from between your lips as his body moved in tandem with yours. It had only made him growl and pick up the pace, you feel the shock of pleasure at the memory lights you up and you excuse yourself to cross the room with your plate in hand.

“She’s so gonna go make out with her daddy in the kitchen.”

“Girl, I would to if that was my man, fuck I need to get me some of what she’s obviously having. Minus the baby though.”

“Hey, momma, ready to get going?” Joel is gently wiping the excess gel from your exposed belly from the ultrasound you just had. He’s quiet, mind whirling at the news of having a boy. Something that had made your heart swell when you pictured a little toddler version of the man with unruly curly hair and a gap-toothed smile so wide you had gasped when the technician had made the announcement.

“I don’t know anything about boys.” You blurt out, worry and excitement swirling around in your chest and heart. You would’ve been happy with any gender but you find yourself so enthralled at the realization of having a boy. A baby boy. Pudgy cheeks, scraped knees, strong little hands, and then a harsh kick has your hand flying to sooth the ache as it prickles low in your stomach almost like a cramp.

“Oof, felt that one. He’s a little spitfire like his momma, ain’t he?” The vibration of Joel’s chuckle is heartwarming, he’s over the moon. His brown eyes glitter as he looks up at you and you realize he’s got unshed tears in his eyes.

“Joel, I don’t know anything about boys.” You admit in a low voice, worry striking up and beginning to wright down your limbs.

“That’s okay, we can figure it out together.” And his smile is dazzling, teeth glinting in the fluorescents and the dimple in his right cheek is visible beneath his stubble. Even as a few tears brim over and race down his face.

The rest of the day is spent picking out a pastel green and honey gold combination for the nursery. The cart is full of supplies needed for painting and a bulky box of baby proofing effects for the house. He steers it around the garden section of the hardware store as you drift among the plants, trailing fingers faintly over the leaves as you inspect them. It’s a little late for any planting to be done, but he’s agreed to grab a few ferns to place in the room to give it some life until the one it’s being decorated for comes along.

Paint-stained hands wander over ruined clothing as chaste kisses turn heated. Joel licks into your mouth as he pins you to the last white wall of the room across from the one you share upstairs. Your moan is loud and unfiltered as he slots a knee between your legs and grinds it up into the seam between your legs. Your dress doing nothing to shield you from the movement against your core, the rough denim a heady feel through the fabric of your underwear.

“Love the sounds you make, sabrosa.” The timbre of Joel’s voice vibrates through your chest and you sneak your nails underneath the collar of his shirt to dig into his bare shoulders. “Fuck, you sound so fucking good, you drive me crazy.”

“G-good.” You wheeze out just as one of his hands pulls the thin strap of your dress down off your shoulder and kisses the exposed skin around the smears of pain he pressed there. His teeth nip and suck all the way to your chest, where he pulls one of your breasts over the fabric. He swirls his tongue around your nipple, his eyes dilating at the sight of how it hardens and perks up under his attention. When his teeth clamp around the sensitive bud, a yelp sounds into the air as your hips buck against his flexed thigh.

“F-fuck, Joel,” You pant, unable to think with the heat of pleasure scorching over every inch of your body.

As soon as he draws a blinding release from you, he carefully guides you to the floor and smothers kisses all over your face, tongue tangling with yours as you open up for him. Letting him devour you as aftershocks tingle all over your skin. And when he finally frees himself from the jeans that are now stained on the leg to slide inside of your fluttering core, you sigh.

It quickly turns into a squeal as you feel thick, cool paint glide over the tarp you both lay on, tangled together in more ways than one. Shocked laughter springs into the air as he reaches out to press a hand into the liquid and presses a palm in the center of your chest. The giggle you let out cuts his rumbles off into a harsh gasp. The feeling of you clenching around him as you do so tightening around him so tight.

“Fuck, your laughter is the best sound.” His hips grind into you, the tip of his cock hitting that perfect spot and all laughter cuts off, turning into deep grunts and wonton moans as he begins to thrust against you.

As the days winds down, Joel busies himself with transferring the laundry over into the dryer and cleaning up the kitchen while you wander back upstairs into the finished nursery. The tarp laid out over the hardwood shows strange streaks and handprints while you sip a freshly made tea from a ceramic mug that was a present at your shower.

You try to hide the tears when Joel’s steps ascend the stairs but he senses them all the same.

“You okay, sweet girl?” His arms wrap around you from the back, one wide palm flattening in the center of your chest. Reaching out to place your mug on a newly assembled dresser, you place a hand over his and wheeze in a deep breath. The other reaches up to thread your fingers through the hair at the back of his head and you nod.

“Just happy tears, I promise.”

Four months ago if someone had told you where you would be, you would’ve laughed in their face.

You never expected to be laying out on a large towel atop warm sand underneath a large shade and four months pregnant. Joel is in one of the many chairs he brought along, resigning to sit in it when you all but shooed him away from where you settled in the sand. It was formed just right underneath your back and neck, giving you the relief of the weight you’ve put on in your belly. The swell of it was still small, something you brought up at a doctor visit but were assured it was normal with the weight you already carried.

Joel’s hand in yours in that moment made you feel a little better paired with the doctor’s soft words, they weren’t reprimanding you for being mid-size, simply explaining the differences it would cause in your pregnancy from an unjudgmental perspective. It still bothers you, just a little. Eating healthy and trying to maintain a good balance always the goal, but school and work and being social and exercising- well, frankly it was a lot to handle on a good day. Let alone a bad one.

Now, though, you’ve got a good reason to stick to a better diet. The baby boy you’re nurturing is of the utmost importance. Joel makes sure to cook you anything you’re craving, the meals he provides from the restaurant or whips up at home are balanced. He’s been amazing, Sarah and Ellie too. They’ve all pitched in to help where it’s needed.

Hell, they packed and loaded up the truck and then let you take the front seat beside Joel late yesterday afternoon before the drive down to the coast was made. The hotel was nice, a suite booked for the family. Three rooms, a living room, a small kitchenette, a balcony overlooking the beach from the fourth floor. It was nice. It was perfect.

The sun is glinting off your ring, held up as you admire the way it looks settled nicely on your finger. A wave of guilt rises and washes away in tune with the waves crashing softly on the shoreline. It was expensive, it’s such a nice piece of jewelry. You told Joel he didn’t need to get a wedding band to go alongside it, that the engagement ring was enough. But you suspect he already has one hiding somewhere.

When Joel suddenly stirs behind you, you shift your head to peer at him in an upside down glance from beneath your sunglasses. He’s reaching into the bag at his side, the one that he was adamant about carrying himself even though it contained all the things you would both need during the day out at the beach. He’s murmuring under his breath, camera suddenly in his hand and you scramble up as you realize he’s aiming it at you and the red light is on- displaying very clearly that he’s recording.

“Hey! No, no, no. No videos!” You try and cover yourself with a nearby towel, two piece doing nothing to hide much of anything. It was enough to feel secure walking around the shallows and to lay out, but to be filmed- nope, not enough.

“C’mon, darlin’, you look amazin’. Glowing like a goddess in the sun and decorated with that pretty ring.” His deep voice makes your skin tingle, your stomach dip, a tightening pull behind your hips.

“Shut up, you’re just horny, old man.” You deadpan, turning away from the camera and beginning the task of rising from the ground. You make sure to not aim your back or front at the camera, not wanting to give him the chance to record your chest or ass as you manage to stand. Bringing a hand up to look out at the rest of the set up from where you now stand outside the protection of the shade.

Sarah and her “coworker” are splashing around in the shallows, Ellie and her “friend” are building a sandcastle with the youngest member of your group, and Tommy and Maria are enjoying the small break of entertaining a one-year-old.

“You got me there.” And his grin is blinding, his face lit up with happiness and affection.

“Mhm.” You just raise an eyebrow at him, taking in the way he looks as he stands now too, in his red swim trunks. It’s criminal how good he looks, all broad shoulders and thick thighs. Fuck, he looks good and you feel yourself grow slick the longer you aim an unimpressed expression his way.

“Gotta pee.” You break the staring contest gracefully, pulling on the sun cover you brought along with you, it had been your makeshift pillow while you lay about.

“Alright then.” And then he presses a few buttons on the camera and wraps an arm around your waist.

Half an hour later, with twin ice cream cones held in tight hands, you share giddy chuckles and giggles with him as you make the trek back across the sand toward your set up.

There are flowers everywhere, balloons, and everyone is standing up the moment you get closer.

“Joel…” You trail off, seeing that Tommy is now wearing a graphic shirt with a tux printed on the front paired with his own board shorts. The girls also have their sun covers on, pale green to match the deep olive of yours.

“Alright, so, I know it isn’t the courthouse like we agreed…” Tears well up in your eyes, warm in comparison to the cold sensation of the ice cream you just swallowed a giant lick of. “But, I figured you would like this a little better.”

With barely held back tears, you let him take the last few bites of your napkin wrapped waffle cone and toss it into the trash bag underneath the folding table. And you marry the man who captured your attention some two years ago guide you to stand in the middle of your found family to exchange the vows you never thought you’d get the chance to at the guidance of his brother who learned the monologue online specifically for the occasion. The man who you love and loves you back, sharing sticky sweet kisses to seal the deal.

It’s better than you ever imagined, better than a courthouse and the formality of standing in front of an officiant that’s done it countless times in the same day. Your heart is full as you feel his arms snake around your body and pull you close, his smiling face and crinkled crow’s feet one of the best views in the whole world.

As the sun begins to dip low, you hold his hand tight as you walk with him through the waves crashing around your ankles, another beautiful ring stacked alongside the one he gave you when he proposed to match the simple gold band he now wears on his own finger. They glint in the warm sunlight and you wish that everyday could feel like this, that you get to spend every moment with the man who holds you tight and sways with you in the water to a song in his head. Twirling you carefully, away and then back to him for your body to lean into his with his hands wrapped securely around you.

“Love you, sweet girl, so fucking much.”

“I love you too, Joel Miller.”

The summer semester starts today, Ellie acting as your teaching assistant alongside a young man who you’ve never met before. Only his name on a file and a long list of recommendations. He’s got another two schools listed under his education, both ivy league in name. They’re both due in your office any second now, you realize as you glance at the clock ticking away on the wall. The papers in your hand, copies of the syllabus and the reading list are warm from the printer. The papers need to be organized and stapled into packs for the students to receive once you mid-morning course begins.

Right now, you’ve got a hot tea and a few crackers paired with cheese and fruit in front of you to keep your stomach from lurching. Nausea still rises up but nowhere near as badly as it had during your first trimester. A snack every three hours between meals helps, though you know you need to work on consuming more liquids. The excessive peeing is something new as more pressure weighs down on your bladder and you are not a fan.

You’re about to text Ellie and see if she’s okay when the door to your office suddenly swings open.

No knock, no voice announcing their arrival- and you’re met with the figure of someone familiar.

He recognizes you when his eyes finally land on you at the desk, a sweep of the office taken in first.

And it’s the guy from the coffee shop in Dallas that shoved you so hard you fell to the ground.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the woman who swings a pretty mean right hook. Should you be working in your condition? Because if I remember correctly, your boyfriend seemed pretty concerned about you being out and about.”

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@theoraekenslover

[mihii-i]

Can I request Kamisato Ayato with a mute!reader? I'd prefer the reader to be female and for this fic to be a one shot, fluff or smutt. You can do any tweaking and write the plot, I don't mind if you can't tho<3

love you just the same.

Pairings: kamisato ayato x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, mute reader, established marriage, envy mention, fluff, there’s literally nothing here, I like this, I’m gonna eat ur pet fish btw, uhm no way gex oh no, drinks the air cutely, holy shit I have no warnings for this one, I don’t care for ayato but I like writing for him yk, r u really silly ahshdhdb, not proofread.

A/N: welcome to the kamisato slumber party (I’m sorry I had to) 🕯️

The towering trees loomed over your figure, enveloping you in a long cast shadow rocking back and forth from the occasional gusts of gentle wind traversing in the clear sky. Glancing up, you squinted your eyes and shielded a hand atop your forehead, filtering the flooding rays of sunlight as it shone onto the earth. You held the porcelain cup between your fingers a bit tighter as the soft breeze of Inazuma whistled into your ears, making your mind wander blissfully amidst the comfortable silence.

Lacking the ability to speak has always seemed like a curse bestowed upon you by the gods. You had never understood why it was you who was subjected to the suffering of remaining silent while everyone around you chattered endlessly. You’d part your lips to speak, hoping for something—anything to push past your throat. However, that wish of yours was to no avail. With a hand to your chest, you’d frequently push past crowds of people, mind racing with a longing to speak as they did.

You believed you’d always fall short of others. That you would have nothing more than longing for your desire to be like those who surrounded you, while you were devoid of the ability to utter even a small sound. Or that was what you thought.

Until you had met your husband, Ayato.

His soothing voice was something you always yearned to hear, preferably over the voices of others who only struck shameful envy in you. However, Ayato had always been a kindhearted man, frequently understanding you and remaining patient as he took his time to understand your quirks. He had never once attempted to push you, nor had he harbored even the slightest bit of frustration whenever you had trouble communicating with him non-verbally. He would only let out a hum of understanding and nurture your hand between his, placing his palm atop your knuckles as his eyes locked onto yours and awaited for you to regain yourself patiently.

It was quite nice, really. Although you couldn’t say it, you cherished your time with him. Always huddling shoulder to shoulder affectionately in his embrace, as you felt as if you had the life that you’ve always wanted when you were in Ayato’s arms. Just by that, he could tell. He always understood your every signal, every cue, every gesture even.

You only let out a closed-mouth sigh as you reminisced upon every time your dear husband had been there for you through thick and thin. You adored every detail about him. His pale blue hair swaying through the wind, that gentle smile complimenting his pool-like eyes, the small mole briefly dotted below the corner of his lip…

You could go on and on about him honestly.

“Dear, I’ve brought some tea.”

A quiet, yet sharp voice called out to you from a distance, inching closer to you as your back rested against the smooth bark. Ayato made his way over to the spot you were sitting, lowering himself into the shade to cross his legs in seated position beside you. The cool tone of the shadows shrouded his face as he carefully set down the teapot, giving his complexion a sweet touch.

You flashed him a grateful smile, setting the porcelain cup down to wrap your fingers around the handle of the teapot. Ayato’s gaze simply followed your movements, as if he was carefully tracing each gesture like a hawk. The tea filled a little below the rim of the cup, clouds of steam drifting out of the hot beverage and vanishing into the air. You blew on it with a subtle breeze of wind from your lips, cooling down the tea as its steam wafted in the direction of your breath, the floral smell still present.

Ayato suddenly cleared his throat, extending an arm out to fumble through a pocket in his clothing. He seemed intent on finding it, fingers feeling up every portion as if he had hidden it quite well. You could only cock your head to the side slightly in response, feeling a blink of curiosity overtaking you, and thinking solely about what this might be.

“Here. Happy anniversary, darling. It may not be much but…I hope you do cherish it.”

Ayato suddenly cupped your face, palms angled against your cheeks as he positioned your head to come level to his chest. Slowly and carefully, he slid a small hairpin into the side of your hair, tangling the clip into your strands steadily. You leaned up to touch the pin, fingers ridging along the gold accents surrounding the center gem. And it didn’t take long for your heart to nearly burst from the fuzzy feeling you felt inside upon realizing…

It was your favorite precious stone.

Although you deeply yearned to verbally articulate how happy you were in this moment, how joyous he had always made you feel—you felt strangely content with not being able to express it. Ayato had understood and cared for you enough, knowing full well what you meant although you couldn’t say it. That was more than enough for you. He was everything you could ever ask for in this jealousy struck world.

His hands kept firm against your cheeks, continuing to cup them as he nearly squeezed them together. You swore he was resisting the urge to do that. Everything went quiet, and time stopped as he pressed his lips to your forehead, both of your eyelids lowering shut as you felt your heart flutter at your husband’s affectionate actions.

You would be together in every life. You knew that as a fact. And you prayed to the archons that in the life ahead of you, he’d love you just the same.

A/N: HOLY SHIT I AM SO SORRY I DIDNT UPLOAD EARLIER MY DRIVING LESSONS MADE ME MENTALLY SHUT DOWN AWHWHHEND BUT IM HERE NOW EVEN THOUGH IRS LIKW 3 AM ‼️‼️‼️

[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Starlight - Part 4

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 5k

warning; /

notes; heyy, I hope that all of you are doing fine ! Here is part 4, pretty calm chapter but I think that you will like it ;))) To be honest I'm already done writing the story, I might change some details because I'm still not really happy about some parts but the overall storyline is finished. Otherwise don't hesitate to comment or ask to be on the tag list ;)) I'm always super happy to see your feedbacks and comments on the story. See you soon, bisous bisoussss

here is the link for part 3 or part 5

---

Wrapped in the warmth of a thick, fur-lined cape, you made your way through the vast and unforgiving landscape that led to the Winter Court. The journey had been long, the cold biting at your skin despite the layers of wool and leather beneath your armor. Your boots crunched through the snow with every step, the sound a constant reminder of the icy terrain you traversed. The fur trim of your cape brushed against your face, shielding you from the harsh winds that howled through the mountains.

Your outfit was designed for both warmth and practicality—leather pants tucked into sturdy boots, a long-sleeved woolen tunic layered under a thick, high-collared vest, and over it all, the heavy cape that provided not just warmth, but protection from the elements. The fur-lined hood of the cape was pulled low over your brow, keeping the icy wind from nipping at your face. Gloves made of soft, supple leather protected your hands, though your fingers itched for the familiar feel of your weapons.

The landscape around you was breathtakingly beautiful, despite its harshness. The snow-covered mountains rose like jagged teeth against the clear, cold sky, their peaks piercing the heavens. The ground beneath your feet was a blanket of pristine white, unmarked by any sign of life save for the occasional tracks of a snow hare or a fox. The air was crisp and clean, filling your lungs with a chill that was both invigorating and biting.

As you neared the Winter Court, the terrain began to change subtly. The trees, tall and ancient, were dusted with snow, their branches heavy with the weight of winter. The air grew colder, the wind sharper, as you approached the heart of Kallias’s domain. The palace, when it came into view, was a marvel of ice and stone, a structure that seemed to rise organically from the frozen earth itself. Its spires glistened in the weak sunlight, the walls shimmering as if carved from a single massive block of ice. It was both awe-inspiring and foreboding, a testament to the power of the High Lord who ruled within.

As you entered the grand hall, the cold air seemed to intensify, but you were prepared for it. Your breath misted before you as you walked, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the ice-encrusted walls. The interior of the palace was no less magnificent than its exterior—glittering chandeliers of ice hung from the ceiling, casting a cool, ethereal light across the room. The floors were a mosaic of frosted tiles, and the walls were adorned with intricate carvings that depicted the history and power of the Winter Court.

Kallias awaited you at the far end of the hall, his tall, imposing figure clad in robes of pure white, trimmed with silver. His eyes, as cold and sharp as the winter wind, met yours as you approached, and he offered a nod of acknowledgment.

"Y/N," he greeted, his voice as icy as his surroundings. "I trust your journey was without incident?"

You inclined your head in respect. "It was, High Lord. The Winter Court is as beautiful as ever."

Kallias’s lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "It is. And I am eager to see the weapon you have forged for me."

With a practiced motion, you unclasped the leather strap that secured the long, narrow case at your side. Carefully, you lifted the lid, revealing the weapon within—a glaive, forged from the finest steel, its blade gleaming with an icy blue sheen that seemed to capture the essence of winter itself. The hilt was intricately designed, resembling the ancient, snow-laden trees of the Winter Court, with delicate, frost-like etchings that trailed along its length. At the base of the hilt, a crystal embedded in the pommel caught the light, glittering like freshly fallen snow.

Kallias’s eyes gleamed with appreciation as he took in the sight of the weapon. He stepped forward, his gloved hand reaching out to grasp the hilt. The glaive fit perfectly in his hand, its weight balanced, its craftsmanship flawless. He swung it once, the blade cutting through the air with a sharp, crisp sound that resonated through the hall.

"It’s exquisite," Kallias said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "You’ve outdone yourself, Y/N."

You bowed your head slightly, a smile tugging at your lips. "I’m glad it meets your expectations, High Lord. It was an honor to craft something for the Winter Court."

Kallias’s gaze lingered on the weapon for a moment longer before he turned his icy eyes back to you. "It more than meets my expectations. It surpasses them. You have a gift, Y/N, and I’m fortunate to have been able to commission such a weapon from you."

There was a moment of silence as Kallias continued to study the glaive, the air between you filled with the mutual respect of two artisans—one of ice, one of steel. Finally, he nodded, his expression softening just slightly.

"You must be tired from your journey," Kallias said, his tone shifting to something more cordial. "Please, stay as my guest. You are welcome in the Winter Court as long as you wish."

You inclined your head again, appreciating the offer. "Thank you, High Lord. I may take you up on that, but I must return to the Night Court soon. There are other matters that require my attention."

Kallias nodded in understanding. "Of course. But for now, rest. My stewards will see to your needs."

With that, he handed the glaive back to you, and you secured it once more in its case. As you followed the steward who had been summoned to lead you to your quarters, you couldn’t help but marvel at the power and grace of the Winter Court—its beauty, its cold, unyielding strength. The journey had been long, but the successful delivery of such a finely crafted weapon made it all worthwhile.

As you were led to your quarters, you wondered what the days ahead would bring, knowing that whatever challenges lay before you, you were more than prepared to face them.

After a much-needed rest in the luxurious quarters provided by Kallias, you found yourself summoned to dinner with the High Lord and his wife, Viviane. The invitation was delivered with the same formality and grace that characterized the Winter Court, and you dressed accordingly, choosing an outfit that was both practical for the cold and respectful of the occasion. You opted for a tailored, high-collared tunic in deep blue, paired with fitted leather pants and sturdy boots designed for both warmth and movement. Over the tunic, you wore a vest of finely stitched leather, its dark hue matching the rich blue of your tunic, and lined with fur for added warmth. A thick, fur-lined cloak draped over your shoulders, adding the final touch of protection against the biting cold.

The dining hall itself was as magnificent as the rest of the palace, with walls of ice that seemed to glow in the soft candlelight. A grand table made of polished, dark wood stood at the center, set with fine crystal and silverware that sparkled under the light. Kallias and Viviane were already seated when you arrived, their regal presence filling the room with an aura of quiet power.

Viviane greeted you with a warm smile, her blue eyes sparkling with kindness. “Y/N, it’s a pleasure to have you join us. Please, sit. I hope the accommodations were to your liking?”

You returned her smile, inclining your head respectfully as you took the seat offered to you. “Thank you, Lady Viviane. The accommodations were perfect—your hospitality is most generous.”

Kallias nodded in agreement, his expression calm and composed. “We are glad to hear that. You’ve traveled far, and your work has been extraordinary. You deserve the best.”

As the first course was served—a delicate soup made with winter vegetables and fragrant herbs—you found yourself relaxing into the atmosphere. The warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth, combined with the rich scents of the food, created a sense of comfort that was almost surprising in the cold grandeur of the palace.

As the meal progressed, Kallias leaned back slightly, regarding you with an inquisitive gaze. “Tell me, Y/N,” he began, his voice casual but laced with curiosity, “are you finally settling down? It’s not often we hear of someone as skilled as you staying in one place for long.”

You smiled softly, nodding as you set down your spoon. “Yes, I’ve returned to my roots. I’ve settled back in the Night Court, where I grew up. It feels right to be back home, even after all the years of traveling.”

Kallias’s eyes sharpened with interest, though he remained composed. “The Night Court, you say? And how has that been? Is it… a unique place, from what I’ve heard.”

You nodded again, careful with your words. “It’s been a good experience, returning to the Night Court. It has its own charm, and I’ve found a certain peace there that I didn’t realize I was missing.”

Viviane, ever the gracious hostess, leaned forward slightly, her gaze warm. “It must be wonderful to return to your roots after so long. I can imagine it offers a sense of stability, something to hold onto.”

“It does,” you agreed. “After years of traveling and crafting for different courts, it’s good to have a place to call home again.”

Kallias seemed to consider this for a moment before his expression shifted slightly, a more contemplative look in his eyes. “Y/N, do you see yourself as a blacksmith for the rest of your life?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated for a moment before responding. “I’ve dedicated most of my life to the craft. It’s something I’m deeply passionate about. But… I’ve also wondered if there’s more I could do, especially now that I’m settled in one place.”

Kallias nodded thoughtfully, as if weighing something in his mind. “With your skills and the relationships you’ve built across the courts, have you ever considered becoming an emissary? You already have a good rapport with most of the High Lords, and your experience is invaluable.”

You blinked in surprise, the idea not one you had expected to hear. “An emissary?” you repeated, trying to imagine the shift from blacksmith to diplomat. “It’s not something I’ve considered before… but I suppose it could be an interesting path.”

Kallias was about to continue when he seemed to catch himself, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Of course, that’s a matter for Rhysand to consider. While our relations with the Night Court are… decent, I’m not one to aid in growing another court’s power.”

There was a hint of amusement in his tone, and you couldn’t help but smile in return. “I understand, High Lord. And I appreciate the suggestion, though. It’s something I’ll have to think about.”

Viviane reached out, placing a gentle hand on Kallias’s arm. “Don’t mind him, Y/N. He’s always thinking three steps ahead, even during a simple dinner.”

Kallias chuckled softly, inclining his head. “Indeed, but it’s worth considering. Your talents shouldn’t be confined to one craft alone, no matter how extraordinary it may be.”

The conversation continued in a more relaxed manner as the evening wore on, the three of you discussing everything from the beauty of the Winter Court to tales of your travels. Despite the formality of the setting, there was an ease to the dinner that you hadn’t anticipated—a warmth that contrasted pleasantly with the cold elegance of the palace.

As the dinner came to an end, you felt a sense of satisfaction not just from the meal, but from the knowledge that you were appreciated here in the Winter Court. The suggestion of becoming an emissary lingered in your mind, a seed planted by Kallias that you knew would take root in the days to come.

For now, though, you allowed yourself to enjoy the moment, grateful for the hospitality of the Winter Court and the new possibilities that lay ahead.

Later that evening, after the dinner with Kallias and Viviane, you found yourself back in the comfort of your room. The luxurious quarters were warm and inviting, the fire crackling softly in the hearth as you settled into a plush chair by the window. The view outside was breathtaking—a serene expanse of snow-covered mountains under a clear, starlit sky. The quiet beauty of the Winter Court seemed almost surreal after the intense conversations of the day.

As you stared out at the snow-draped landscape, your thoughts began to drift back to the events that had transpired before your journey here—specifically, the night with Cassian. The memory of his broken wings and the dark curse that had infested his body sent a shiver down your spine. You had dealt with injuries before, but nothing quite like that. The sight of Cassian in such a vulnerable state, combined with the pressure of having to save him, had shaken you more than you cared to admit.

You couldn’t help but wonder how Cassian was doing now. Madja was a skilled healer, but the curse had been something different—something darker and more insidious. You hoped that your efforts, combined with Madja’s expertise, would be enough to see him fully recovered.

But your thoughts didn’t linger on Cassian for long. Instead, they wandered to Azriel—his overprotective reaction when you mentioned your journey to the Winter Court. You had been taken aback by the intensity in his eyes, the way his voice had tightened with worry when he insisted that you couldn’t go alone. It was unlike him, or at least unlike the composed, stoic Azriel you had come to know.

A small blush crept up your cheeks as you recalled the way he had draped his jacket over your shoulders before flying you home. The warmth of the leather, combined with his proximity, had stirred something in you—a feeling you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge until now. Azriel was undeniably attractive, with his dark, brooding looks and those piercing hazel eyes that seemed to see right through you. But more than that, he was one of the most skilled warriors in Prythian, a member of the Inner Circle, and someone who carried a weight of responsibility that few could comprehend.

You let out a small sigh, feeling a mixture of admiration and frustration. Azriel was everything you weren’t—an elite warrior, trusted confidant of the High Lord, and part of a circle that wielded immense power and influence. What were you, in comparison? A blacksmith, skilled in your craft, but still just someone who worked with metal and fire. You had traveled far and gained respect across the courts, but it was hard to shake the feeling that Azriel was somehow out of your league.

You couldn’t deny the attraction, though. Every time you thought of him—his calm presence, his quiet strength—it sent your heart fluttering in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying. But you reminded yourself that someone like Azriel wouldn’t be interested in you, not in that way. He was dedicated to his duties, and you… you were just a blacksmith. 

Still, the memory of his protective concern lingered, the way his eyes had softened slightly when he insisted on flying you home. It was a gesture that spoke of something deeper, something that made your heart ache with longing.

You shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away. It was foolish to dwell on such things. Azriel was a friend, and that was enough. There was no sense in imagining something that could never be.

But even as you told yourself that, you couldn’t help the small, wistful smile that tugged at your lips. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to Azriel’s concern than simple duty. Perhaps there was a connection there, one that went beyond the roles you both played.

With a sigh, you stood and walked over to the window, staring out at the endless expanse of snow and stars. The Winter Court was beautiful, but your mind was already drifting back to Velaris, to the Night Court, and to the people who had become an unexpected but welcome part of your life.

And as you stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, you couldn’t help but wonder what the future held—for you and perhaps most of all, for Azriel.

—— 

Back in Velaris, the shop was quieter than usual. Without the rhythmic clang of metal on metal or the hum of the forge, the space felt almost too still, the usual lively energy dampened by your absence. But that didn’t stop Alex from doing his best to keep things running smoothly. He was darting between customers, expertly answering questions and showcasing various weapons with the kind of enthusiasm that belied his young age. Stellan, your faithful direwolf, was sprawled out near the counter, watching the activity with an expression that could only be described as long-suffering patience.

A particularly persistent client had been lingering in the shop for the better part of an hour, his eyes darting around as if expecting to spot you at any moment. He was a tall, lanky man with a nervous energy, and he had been pestering Alex incessantly.

“Are you sure she’s not here?” the man asked for what felt like the hundredth time, his tone edging on desperation. “I need to speak with Y/N directly.”

Alex, who had been maintaining his polite demeanor with admirable restraint, forced a smile that was beginning to strain at the edges. “As I’ve already mentioned, sir, Y/N is currently away on business. She won’t be back until next week.”

The man’s eyes narrowed as if Alex were trying to trick him. “But I really need to speak with her. Can’t you just call her? Or maybe she’s in the back?”

Alex’s forced smile twitched, and he muttered under his breath, “On the name of the goddamn Mother, I’m going to hit him.” He forced his voice back to a more polite tone as he said, “I’ve already checked, sir. She’s definitely not in the back. And no, I can’t call her—she’s in the Winter Court. They don’t exactly have a postal service for emergencies.”

The client frowned, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. “But this is important! Can’t you at least take a message?”

“Sir,” Alex said, his voice straining to maintain its politeness, “I’ve taken five messages from you already. I promise I’ll give them all to Y/N when she returns. But for now, there’s really nothing more I can do.”

The man didn’t seem convinced and opened his mouth to argue again, but Alex had reached his limit. He could feel his frustration bubbling up, and he was just about ready to scream when the shop door swung open with a loud creak.

In walked Cassian and Azriel, both of them cutting imposing figures as they strode into the shop. Cassian’s broad shoulders filled the doorway, and Azriel’s intense gaze swept over the scene, quickly taking in the situation.

The persistent client froze, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the two warriors. Cassian’s expression was one of barely concealed amusement, while Azriel’s was much cooler, a silent but clear warning to the man that he was pushing his luck.

“Is there a problem here?” Azriel asked, his voice light but with an edge that sent a shiver down the man’s spine.

The client swallowed hard, his resolve crumbling under the weight of Azriel’s presence. “N-No, no problem at all,” he stammered, his previous determination evaporating. “I was just… uh… I’ll come back later.”

With that, the man all but bolted for the door, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to leave the shop. The door slammed shut behind him, and the shop was suddenly filled with silence, save for the faint crackling of the forge in the background.

Alex let out a long, relieved sigh and leaned against the counter, wiping a hand across his brow. “Thank the Mother for that,” he muttered.

Cassian chuckled, walking over to ruffle Alex’s hair. “You handled that well, kid. He was lucky he didn’t push you any further—looked like you were about to go feral.”

Alex grinned up at him, his earlier frustration melting away. “I was close, really close. But thanks for the help! Can I interest either of you in a fine sword? Or perhaps a dagger? We’ve got some new arrivals that are really top-notch.”

Azriel, who had been leaning casually against the counter, let out a soft chuckle. “Not today, Alex. We’re not here to shop.”

Cassian, still grinning, shook his head. “Yeah, as tempting as it is, we’re actually here to see if Y/N’s back yet. We wanted to check in and see how things are going.”

Alex’s face brightened at the mention of your name. “Oh! No, she’s not back yet. She should be here by tomorrow, though. I haven’t heard anything from her, but she always keeps her word.”

Cassian nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Good to hear. We’ve been worried about her, especially after everything that happened before she left.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened slightly at the mention of recent events, but he remained quiet, his gaze drifting around the shop as if lost in thought.

Alex, ever the perceptive one, caught the shift in Azriel’s demeanor and quickly changed the subject. “But hey, if you want, I can show you some of the stuff she’s been working on! I know she’s got some special orders that are almost ready. You might even find something you like.”

Cassian laughed, clearly charmed by the boy’s enthusiasm. “Maybe another time, Alex. We’ll just wait for her to get back. But thanks for the offer.”

Alex nodded, a little disappointed that he couldn’t make a sale but still pleased that the two warriors had stopped by. “No problem! I’ll let her know you were here as soon as she gets back.”

“Thanks, Alex,” Cassian said, giving the boy another affectionate ruffle of his hair before turning to leave. Azriel followed, but not before giving Alex a small, almost imperceptible nod of appreciation.

As they walked out the door, Alex watched them go, a satisfied grin on his face. Stellan, who had been observing the entire exchange with his usual calm, gave a soft huff as if to say, “Finally, some peace and quiet.”

Alex glanced down at the wolf, chuckling softly. “Yeah, I know, boy. It’s never boring around here, is it?”

Stellan’s only response was to close his eyes and settle back down, clearly content now that the shop had returned to its usual, slightly chaotic but always interesting, routine.

As Cassian and Azriel stepped out of your shop and into the bustling streets of Velaris, the evening air was cool and refreshing, carrying with it the scents of the city—freshly baked bread, the distant aroma of spiced meats, and the crisp tang of the Sidra River. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden hue over the cobblestone streets and the elegantly curved buildings.

Cassian glanced over at Azriel, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know, you didn’t have to scare the poor guy so much back there. He practically ran out of the shop.”

Azriel shrugged, his expression unreadable as usual, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “He was being persistent. Alexander was close to losing his patience.”

Cassian laughed, the sound rich and full of life. “True, true. That kid’s got more fire in him than most people twice his age. But I have to admit, it was fun watching you in action. You’ve always had a knack for that brooding intimidation.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, though the corners of his lips twitched slightly. “It wasn’t intentional. I just wanted to make sure the shop was running smoothly while Y/N is away.”

Cassian’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Speaking of Y/N… you’ve been pretty protective of her lately, haven’t you?”

Azriel’s step faltered for just a moment, but he quickly recovered, keeping his gaze focused ahead. “She’s been through a lot. We all have. I’m just making sure she’s safe.”

Cassian chuckled, clearly enjoying this line of questioning. “Come on, Az. We’ve all noticed how you’ve been watching out for her. And don’t think Rhys didn’t told me the way you reacted when she mentioned going to the Winter Court alone.”

Azriel’s expression remained impassive, though his eyes darkened slightly. “It’s my job to protect the people in this court, Cassian. You know that.”

“Sure, sure,” Cassian replied, waving a hand dismissively. “But this feels a little more personal, don’t you think? You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

Azriel remained silent, his gaze focused straight ahead as they continued walking. The streets of Velaris were alive with activity—couples strolling hand in hand, children playing, vendors calling out their wares—but the conversation between the two warriors seemed to create a bubble of quiet tension around them. Cassian, always one to lighten the mood, decided to press a little further.

“You know, Az,” Cassian started, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, “it’s not like that little kiss she gave me means you’re out of the running.”

Azriel shot him a sharp look, his eyes narrowing. “That wasn’t a kiss, Cassian. She was removing a curse. You know that.”

Cassian laughed, the sound rich and full of amusement. “Hey, I’m just saying—if you’re worried about competition, don’t be. That ‘kiss’ doesn’t mean you’ve lost your chance.”

Azriel shook his head, resuming his walk. "It's not about that. Y/N deserves someone... better.” 

Cassian rolled his eyes dramatically, catching up to Azriel with a few quick strides. "Oh, here we go. The 'I'm not good enough' spiel. Az, you’re one of the most honorable males I know. You're brave, loyal, and let's not forget, you have that brooding mysterious thing going on that females seem to love."

Azriel shot him a skeptical look. "Being 'brooding and mysterious' isn't exactly a selling point."

"Maybe not for you," Cassian quipped, "but trust me, it's working. Besides, Y/N isn't the type to be swayed by titles or power. She values character, integrity, and someone who sees her for who she truly is."

Azriel sighed, his gaze distant. "Even so, with everything in my past, the things I've done... I don't want to burden her with that."

Cassian placed a firm hand on Azriel's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. "Listen to me. We all have our demons, our shadows. Y/N included. But that doesn't mean we don't deserve happiness. You can't keep punishing yourself forever.”

"She is… different. She’s strong, independent. She’s been through so much, yet she doesn’t let it define her. I admire that.”

Cassian nodded, his expression softening slightly. “She is all of those things. And she’s got a good heart. But, Az, you know it’s okay to feel something more. You don’t have to keep everything locked away.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might brush off the conversation entirely. But then he sighed, a sound that was barely audible but heavy with unspoken thoughts. “It’s not that simple, Cass. She’s… well, she’s remarkable. But she’s also tied to things I don’t fully understand. And after everything… I’m not sure it’s right to complicate things further.”

Cassian looked at him, his expression serious for once. “You’re overthinking it, as usual. Sometimes, it’s okay to just… let things happen. If there’s something there, you’ll figure it out. And if there’s not, well, at least you won’t have any regrets.”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, but Cassian could see the conflict in his eyes. Finally, Azriel murmured, “I don’t want to be a distraction for her. She’s got enough to deal with, especially after what happened.”

Cassian grinned, though there was a note of understanding in his voice. “You’re not a distraction, Az. If anything, you’re probably one of the few people who can help her with whatever she’s dealing with. And, just so you know, she’s not out of your league, no matter what you think.”

Azriel remained silent, the internal battle evident in his eyes. The bustling sounds of Velaris seemed to fade as the two friends stood in the midst of the crowd, locked in a moment of understanding.

After a beat, Cassian grinned, attempting to lighten the mood. "And besides, if you don't make a move, I might just have to swoop in. You know, for the sake of not letting such a wonderful female go unappreciated."

Azriel snorted, a rare genuine laugh escaping his lips. "I'd like to see you try."

Cassian winked, clapping Azriel on the back. "That's the spirit! Now, how about we head to Rita's and grab a drink? Maybe by the time Y/N returns, you'll have mustered up the courage to tell her how you feel."

Azriel smirked, his shadows swirling playfully around him. "Only if you're buying."

"Deal," Cassian replied, leading the way with a swagger in his step. "But remember, the next round's on you, especially if it gives you the liquid courage you clearly need."

As they made their way towards the river, laughter and camaraderie enveloped them. Yet, beneath the teasing and banter, the seeds of self-reflection had been sown in Azriel's heart, leaving him to ponder the possibilities that awaited with your impending return. 

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[domesticgoddess22]

wish upon a cowboy

chapter 2: i like my whiskey neat

pairing: raider!joel miller x fem!reader Summary: A rugged raider takes you under his wing after hunters leave you for dead. The two of you form a team and you quickly grow attached to him–mumbling, grumbling, protective Joel Miller. When you divulge your wishes to experience life before the outbreak, Joel decides to make them come true. All of them. warnings: age gap (early 20s/mid 40s), praise kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, unplanned pregnancy, unprotected piv, canon-typical violence, light choking, dom!Joel, angst word count: 4.6k (this is ch 2) rating: 18+ explicit MDNI masterlist here

Down a winding, unpaved road, you and Joel traverse deeper into the trees. Birds sing their afternoon tunes and the rubble from civilization is completely out of eye’s reach, fooling you into believing that the world is still as it once was. 

A lone cabin comes into view, seemingly untouched from the horrors. The windows are intact and not shattered, the vegetation hasn’t swallowed the structure, and there’s a truck neatly parked beside the house, dusty and unused.

Inside, like a perfectly preserved moment in history, the cabin still has a few pots and pans, blankets, and a bed. Your eyes light up when you notice the fireplace in the living room. September in Texas was blazing hot during the day. At night, it was far too cold for your liking.

“Looks like we don’t have to cuddle tonight,” you say playfully. Not that the two of you ever did anything like that.

“You sound disappointed.”

“Not as disappointed as you're about to be when I tell ya I’m an excellent cuddler,” you add.

“That so?” Joel tilts his head and you search his expression for any sign of emotion, but his gaze is rigid. Bored even.

He isn’t interested. Quit with the flirting and pull yourself together.

“Hungry?” Joel asked. Like he always did, ready to provide for you.

“A bit, yeah.”

“I‘m gonna get us some firewood ‘n see if I can catch us a rabbit.” He declares before dipping outside. “You wanna see if you can find anythin’ useful in here?”

“You ever gonna teach me to hunt?”

Joel’s mouth pulls into a subtle smile. “Soon. Just relax for now ‘n I’ll take care of it.” 

You think about how sweet it is for him to think about your comfort. It’s true that your feet are in blistering pain and you’d give anything to just kick back on the sofa and snooze.

Sinking into the cushions you dusted and wiped clean with a damp cloth, you drift off to thoughts of the rugged man outside, chopping wood and hunting game. Thoughts of what it’d feel like to have him kiss you, tongue exploring your mouth, hands groping your soft mounds. You craved to feel his touch, and longed for his faroff gaze to focus on you and only you.

A gunshot shakes the quiet earth. Through the glass window, you see birds emerging from the trees in swarms like dust exploding from an old quilt. You peek outside to see dark storm clouds brewing in the distance.

Joel returns about an hour later with an armful of firewood and kindling. The sunlight slowly fades, casting a soft, orange glow on the logs–receding gently with each passing minute until the house is covered in shadows, the only source of light now is flickering flames at the center of the room. 

“Cabin is nice,” you hum, poking the fire with a stick before tossing it into the heap. The flames swallow it appreciatively, dancing more aggressively from your offering.

“‘S good for the night.”

“Just the night? Why don’t we stay here for longer? Settle down for a while–it’s gonna get colder soon, and this seems like a good place to stay for the wi–”

“Ain’t a good idea.” He clicks his tongue, cutting you off before you can say more. 

“Why not?”

“‘cuz I said so.”

“Joel. This place is safe. You saw that little corner shop we were in. It was barely picked over,” you plead and it was true. Places like this were so detached from the cities that they’d have less clickers, and if you were lucky, more stuff to scavenge. 

“We don’t know who’s around here. Ain’t never been in these parts before so it’s best we keep movin’.”

Always so strict, this one. 

You don your best puppy dog eyes. “Two days. Just–just hear me out…” Your hands wrapped around the neck of a whiskey bottle tucked in your bag. It was a lucky find, sitting in the back of one of the cupboards. “I promise it’ll be funnn.” 

He tuts, shaking his head but a subtle smile betrays him. 

There it is. 

That smile that sends your heart soaring. 

He shifts his weight to one side and crosses his arms across his broad chest. The green flannel shirt now stretches across his muscles, nearly ripping at the seams. “Fine,” he caves. “But just two.”

“Who knew Joel Miller liked to have a little fun?”

“scuse me?”

“You’re always so strict. That’s all.”

He frowns. “Ain’t strict.”

“Okay, stern.”

“Ain’t stern. I was a lot of fun back in my day, I’ll have ya know.”

“Okay, cowboy,” you tease. 

“Alright, miss know-it-all, how am I strict?” Brow cocked, elbows resting on his knees. “Enlighten me.”

“Well–first of all, you’re all do what I say any time I try to challenge you on somethin’.” You exaggerate his southern drawl and he narrows his eyes at you. “Plus, you won’t even tell me anything personal about you.” 

The first drops of rain pitter patter against the cabin walls.

“First of all, I say what I say ‘cuz I know what’s best for us.”

Us. 

You loved the sound of that. Like you were a team now and he wanted to protect that. 

Your lips fold together, hiding that damn smile that creeps up whenever he says something you like.

“Been through a hell of a lot more than you have ‘n I know what we need to do. Where we need to be. Who and what we need to stay away from.” He leans back against the couch cushion, gazing into the fire that dances in his dark orbs. “Was doin’ just fine until you came along, if I’m bein’ honest.” 

“Oh, I don’t believe that. I’m a hoot.”

“You… are trouble. The amount of times I’ve had to run into a Randall’s to search for Twizzlers is plain stupid.”

“Shut up. They’re good and you know it.” You press the neck of the whiskey bottle to your lips and tilt it back, letting the liquid heat bloom across your tongue.

“They were good ten years ago. Not worth it now.”

You hand him the bottle and his calloused fingers brush yours.

“Ya ain’t got any sense of danger, dunno how you made it this far before you met me, baby.” 

Baby.

Joel runs a hand through his hair. “Far as I can tell, I’m all you've got, so have a little faith in me.”

He wasn’t wrong. Mom and dad were long gone. FEDRA killed them for leaving the walls past curfew. Had to do with contraband or somethin’, you weren’t too sure. Just knew that it was bad enough to get them killed. You were fifteen when it happened and on your own. Took ten years later for you to bust out of there with a desert eagle and a backpack full of ammo and granola bars.

Not that you got very far.

Hunters found you trekking along the outskirts of Austin, shot you down just because they wanted your piece of shit backpack. You were lucky they left you where they did and that Joel found you when he had.

You never imagined it would lead you here, though. Sitting in a cabin right outside of the middle of nowhere Texas, drinking a bottle of crown with the man who tossed a coin and snatched you from the grim reaper with his bare hands. 

And you wanted to thank him for it. 

Kiss his co–

Stop.

The rain picks up, nearly drowning out the crackle of the fire with it’s steady rhythm.

“How’d you get this far all by yourself?” There's enough liquid courage running through your veins now, and probably his too, so you figure now is as good as ever to learn the secrets that build Joel Miller.

“Ain’t always been just me.”

“Oh? You save someone else from death and let her tag along with you for a while?” There’s no way he’d pick up on the jealousy hidden beneath the slight strain in your voice. The worry that he’s got someone, somewhere, waiting on him. You run your fingers through your hair and pretend to be disinterested.

“Not quite. Brother, actually. We used to hunt together, but uh–haven’t seen ‘em in a few years.” 

The breath hitched in your throat finally escapes.

“Do you know where he is?” 

“Thinkin’ he’s up north from here. Had to know he was alright, so I got a tip from the fireflies and they suspect he’s in Wyoming.”

“You gonna go see ‘im?”

Joel breathes in, eyes watching the dancing flames. He brings the bottle to his lips–the same place your lips were, you note–and tilts his head back. 

When he rests it back on his knee, he rubs his thumb against the smooth amber glass.“We had a little disagreement ‘n he took off.”

You scoot across the carpet to sit a little closer to him, letting the weight of your body rest on the balls of your feet. Your hand is a featherweight on his knee. “You should go see ‘im.” 

“No.”

“Come on. The fact that you have a family member that’s still alive is a fuckin’ miracle! You should celebrate that and reunite with your brother.”

“Ain’t gonna happen.”

He leans forward and offers you a swig and you accept, letting your hand abandon his knee. 

Even though you’d only known the man for a short while, you were familiar with his moods.There were a lot of things he didn’t like to talk about, and if you pried too much he’d ignore you. Change the subject. Some would probably say he was cold, but you knew that there was pain beneath his hardened exterior.

There was a silence that fell over you for a while, a comfortable silence as the two of you watched the fire and clung to the smallest shred of comfort left in the world. A warm fire. A false sense of safety–for the night. Someone to sit next to. 

And then his gruff voice rips through the silence, scraping the floor with its rich baritone. “Forty-eight.”

“What?” You knew what, but you couldn’t believe he’d just shared something else about himself.

“‘M forty-eight.”

Fuck. 

Forty-fucking-eight. 

You knew he was older, sure, but now that you had a number it really sank in. It’s not like you were bothered by his age, but it was moreso a confirmation that he wasn’t going to do anything with you and you weren’t ready to accept that.

“You?”

“Me?”

“Your age.”

“Ah,” you hesitate before speaking again. As if to buy yourself time and keep him guessing for a stretch longer. You almost think about lying but the truth slips from your lips before you cook one up. “I’m twenty-five.”

Joel’s arm is draped across the back cushion of the couch, casting his gaze over his shoulder at something in the room. His expression bored, legs spread, features hardened. 

This is the first time in your life you wished you were forty. You take another sip of whiskey to wash the thought away.

You’ve had your fair share of booze at this point and now you’re buzzing,  the weight that’s been on your chest for weeks is slowly lifting.

He rolls his head back to you and casually says, “Figured you were in your twenties or somethin’. Makes sense.”

“What makes sense?”

“Why you ain’t careful,” he’s smirking at you now and you roll your eyes.

“I’m careful when I need to be, Miller.”

“Yeah. Well ya got me now to look after ya. Keep ya outta trouble ‘n all.”

What does it even matter if he’s twenty something years your senior? It’s the apocalypse and you’re both adults.

Fuck it.

“Musta been lonely before, just you and nobody else...” Your eyes are on his denim, right around his knees and then up, up, up until you reach his face. “You ever uh–you ever been with anybody since the outbreak?”

Joel’s eyes snap to yours. “What?”

“You know what, Mr. Quietly Charming. Can’t imagine you haven’t run into someone looking for a little escapism?”

His brow lifts when the realization finally hits and he clears his throat. “I’ve had a few...” 

“A few? Impressive considering there aren't a lot of people around. So you got a type then?” 

“Not really.”

“Oh come on, everybody's got a type.”

“Well…I like a woman that's got a mind of her own.”

“How modern of you to let the woman take control.” There’s no hiding your smile that’s stretching from ear to ear.

“Didn't say that. I like her to have a mind of her own… during the day. At night…” He leans forward, voice low, the scent of whiskey on his tongue. “...I like ‘em submissive.”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip.

“You been with anybody?”

“He was a FEDRA guard. Took him for a spin so I could steal his ration cards.”

Joel chuckles. “Now why doesn't that surprise me?”

“And just what do you mean by that?”

“Nothin’ bad. Maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe you do have what it takes to survive.”

“That I do.”

“But you could learn a thing or two about fightin’,” Joel's hand lands on your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze. It's the first time he's touched you since the day he found you and carried you to the doc.

When he removes his hand and leaves your shoulder cold, you feel a desperate need to feel more of him. The two of you drink and talk and it isn’t long before Joel sheds more of those thick outer layers of his, revealing little pieces about himself that you didn’t know before. 

He used to play guitar, still would if he had one around. The Eagles and Pink Floyd were a few of his favorite artists to play to. Back before the outbreak he was a carpenter, could build anything from a wardrobe to a house with his bare hands.

The key takeaway: Joel was good with his hands.

“How do you normally take your whiskey?”

“Only way I can take it. Neat.”

“Not now. Back in your day when you were loads of fun. I would love to hear more about that too, by the way. Ya ever get arrested? Steal a car? Have a one night stand and knock somebody up?”

Joel chuckles, getting up from his seat and kneeling in front of you. “The hell kinda guy did you think I was back then?” You feel his calloused palm brush against your fingers again as he takes the bottle from your grasp. “I think you’ve had enough of this for tonight.”

“‘I was just gettin’ started.” 

Joel reaches over you to set the bottle up on the aged wooden table,  filling your lungs with his smoky aroma the closer he gets.

“I stole plenty of cars.”  The glass thuds against wood, Joel rests his palm on the edge of table so that he’s caged you in. “Since the outbreak.”

Deep brown eyes bore into you, a muscle working in his jaw as he contemplates the rest of his story. 

You loved his stories.

“Wasn’t worth it to steal back then–we had rules.”

His scent. This position. It’s making you positively feral. You look up at him, doe eyed and eager. 

“What were your rules when it came to sex?” A bold inquisition, but you're ready for the answer.

There's a brief pause as Joel’s dark gaze is on your lips. Parted, plump–kissable, you hope.

“Don’t go lookin’ at me like that, sweetheart. If you keep givin’ me those eyes, ’m not going to be able to control myself.” 

“Then don’t.”

He groans with temptation. “You’re young. I should know better.” 

“What happened to fun Joel?” You tease.

He chuckles darkly, his bedroom eyes focused on the curves of your lips. “Tell me what you want, baby and I’ll give it to ya.”

A single beat of time passes, letting the heat between you two fester for just an agonizing stretch longer. Joel traces circles into your inner thigh with his finger. 

“You said you like ‘em submissive,” the sound of your voice is sultry, inviting. “Show me what you’ve got, Miller.”

Now his hand is possessively gripping your thigh. He nods, a silent agreement between the two of you that what you once were to each other is now going to change tonight. What was about to transpire would undoubtedly redefine your relationship, but you didn’t care. You needed him, so, so badly. And by the burning look of desire in his gaze, he needed you too.

Thick fingers take hold of your chin and force you to look up, cranking your neck back so Joel is dominating your view of the world. “Needy lil’ thing,” he teases, but his tone is thick with approval. With lust.  

Joel’s lips crash onto yours, his hand still firmly gripping your jaw, digging his thumb into your cheek bone to better force his entry. His tongue commands yours, lapping in a circular motion to taste you.

Strong arms wrap around your waist, slowly laying you back until you’re pinned under his heat. 

The wetness of his tongue glides across your neck with insatiable desire while a rough hand cups your mound, kneading your breasts.

Joel’s urgency felt animalistic as he explored every inch of you, hands sliding down to your waist, saving the feel of you to his memory for now until the end of his days.

He smooths his hand across your stomach, down until his calloused fingertips brush your waistline. You moan into his mouth, grabbing a handful of his plaid shirt to reel him in closer to you. He groans, rutting into you. “Fuck. You’re already soakin’ wet for me?”

“Mhmm,” you say, eyelids heavy with lust.

Licking his lips cravenly, he tugs your panties down with ease. Your back arches when the pads of his fingers slide along the wet slick of your swollen bud, a euphoric feeling coupled with a desperate thirst to taste his lips again.  As if he heard your plea, his tongue is sliding against yours again, the taste smooth like whiskey. His fingers glide across your folds, slowly at first, gradually picking up the pace as he masterfully brings you to the edge.

“Joel, I want you so bad.”

“I know, baby. I know.” He nuzzles his nose into your neck and breathes deep before looking back at you, pupils blown out. “Just be patient. I wanna make ya feel good first–think ya can do that?”

You bite back a moan and nod your head with eager obedience. Joel lifts your shirt, revealing your bare breasts as he hums in approval, his lips graze your skin and then he’s biting and sucking your sensitive peaks with fervor, groaning and sucking, sucking and groaning. Two fingers sink into you and your jaw goes slack, the sensation utterly electrifying from head to toe. 

He pumps into you with a slow and steady rhythm, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your clit. You feel his cock hard and throbbing against your leg, his hips bucking into you with carnal need, a male response to the sounds of your feminine moans.

“Good girl, show me how much you like it–lemme hear your pretty little voice.” 

“Joel–please–I need more–I need–” You babble.

“Just be patient. If I take you right now, baby ‘m gonna split you open. Need to warm up this lil’ pussy first.” He sinks a third finger into your heat, walls tightly constricting around him. You beg and plea for more as he pulls his name from your lips over and over again until finally, he’s guiding you to your sweet release. Needy fingers pull on the fabric of his shirt, toes curling with pleasure, mouth agape as you absorb the blissful sensation of Joel’s wide fingers, knuckledeep inside your cunt.

Then the fullness of him is gone and the emptiness of the room is replaced with the angry sound of a zipper. Between your knees you see Joel’s massive, pulsating cock bucked in his hand and a dark, lustful smile painted on his lips to match. “Spread your legs,” he growls.

His hand  is pressed to your thigh, spreading your legs even further apart, drawing his hips closer to yours. You shift your gaze downward to see the bead of precum oozing from the head of his cock. His tip tastes the sweet slick of your entrance just before he plunges into you and your back arches violently, jaw slack as you struggle to adjust to his impossible girth. He pulls out slowly only to thrust back into you, curses pouring from his lips at the feel of your walls snuggly wrapped around him.

It’s this moment that makes you realize that you were made for him.

And if you weren’t, you were utterly ruined. Your pussy would forever be molded to the shape of him.

“So tight baby–fuck. You’re takin’ me so well–such a good girl.” The man was so deep inside you and drunk with lust, he could barely construct coherent sentences.

“M-More!” You beg despite his brutal pace, you craved for more of him. 

He craved more of you, fucking you dumb, the wet sound of his balls slapping against your skin is drowning out the downpour outside. You’re moaning at a decibel so high, if anyone else is in the neighborhood, they’d surely hear you. Everytime you moan, Joel groans. Sometimes he growls, usually when he was buried to the hilt in your heat and you’d grind against him, urging him to stay there and never leave, wrapping your legs around his hips.

“H-Harder.”

“Needy lil’ thing, beggin’ for more.” The pace quickens and so does the amount of kisses on your neck and the sweet nothings you only dreamed he’d be capable of saying to you. His praises are endless. How tight your pussy is, how wet you are, what a good girl you are for him.

Wanton moans pour from your lips after each praise–shameless noises, really, but you don’t care. You scream for more, more, more as he mercilessly pounds into you, fucking you with the same ferocity that he fights with.

“You like that baby? You like getting fucked by someone old enough to be your daddy?”

“Come in me. Please. Please.”

“Can’t do that, darlin’.” He smiles sinfully into your neck, licking and nibbling at the sensitive spot just under your ear. “But I wish–wanna fill you up so fuckin’ bad ‘til you’re full of me.”

His hand firmly grips the base of your throat, a grip strong enough to keep you pinned down but not enough to hurt you.

“Joel–I’m gonna come!”

“Come on my cock like a good girl.” The deep command of his voice sets you over the edge and Joel takes you to the finish line, thrusting into you in slow, long strides and then merciless pounding. “Baby, you’re suckin’ me in, ‘m not gonna be able to hold it.”

You wrap your legs tightly around him, body still convulsing as you ride your high, walls fluttering dangerously around his cock. 

“Fuck it,” he says through gritted teeth, taking your waist in each of his hands with a bruising grip. His thighs are slapping into you, jeans still half on, his loosened belt buckle branding the right side of your ass and then he’s pouring himself into you. Hot ropes of Joel’s cum fill you to the brim, his cock pulsing, straining to empty his last drop. Warm seed trickles down your ass.

His chest is pressed against yours, both of you heaving as you settle from your climax. The only sounds are the crackling fire, the once harsh downpour of rain that’s now reduced to a gentle simmer, and the sound of your breath tangled with his.

“Again.” His voice is more of a demand than a request, his cock twitching inside of you with interest.

“Joel, I can’t take it anymore.”

He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at his eyes, wild with lust. “Yes, you can.”

Your chests are heaving and foreheads tacky with sweat.

“Mmmmm, Joel…”

The sounds of your tryst carry on until the early morning hours when Joel’s desire finally subsides. Your ear is pressed to his chest, listening to the sound of his beating heart, his ragged breathing. In between breaths, he says, “Been thinkin’...” The rumble of his gravelly voice reverberates in your ear.

“Oh yeah?”

“‘Bout helpin’ you finish that bucket list of yours.”

“I don’t have a bucket list, Joel.” 

“Learn to drive, eat pie, go to school, go on a date…” He starts listing everything you mentioned earlier. “Ain’t that what you wanted?”

“Yeah, but it’s a fantasy. Can’t go on a date at the diner when the world has ended.”

“Sure ya can, just gotta have a little bit of ‘n imagination.” The scruff of Joel’s beard brushes against your forehead as he speaks to you. “Close your eyes.”

You oblige, a playful smirk on your face.

“You’re wearin’ one ‘a them summer dresses. Pink.”

“Yellow,” you argue.

“I like yellow.” Joel says with approval.

“Does it hug my chest real nice?”

“Sure does, darlin’. But I ain’t just lookin’ at that. ‘M lookin’ at how beautiful your eyes, wide and lit up with excitement for our first date.”

“Go on.”

“I just got off of work, picked you up in my old chevy and drove us down to 4th Street to the town’s favorite, the Millcreek Diner. Fifties style, decked out with a jukebox and red leather barstools, and a glowing neon sign that says Milkshakes ‘n Fries.” There’s a vivid picture painted in your head as Joel narrates the world from before, images pulled together from old photos and books you stumbled across throughout your travels. 

“I want a burger. Extra fries, extra cheese, and a milkshake.”

“Good choice.”

“What’s it taste like?”

“The burger is juicey ‘n savory–Fresh. Fries are salty and crispy, ‘n then they melt in your mouth after the first couple crunches.”

Your mouth waters at the thought of having something so hot–so fresh.

“And the milkshake?”

“‘S a little cold, perfect for dessert. Tastes like sweet strawberries. Comes with a little cherry on top of the whipped cream. You ever had a cherry before?” 

“Once.”

“Tastes like that, but sweeter. The color is bright red. They’re called maraschino cherries or som’ like that.”

“You sure know a lot about things.”

“Was basic stuff everybody knew back then. And shh–ain’t done with our date yet.” He clears his throat and continues, “Watcha goin’ to school for, darlin’?”

“Film. Parents think it’s a bad idea though. It’s not practical, probably won’t pay the bills. Blah, blah, blah.”

“Bills. That’s one thing I can say I’m glad is gone.”

“Joel.”

“Sorry, sorry. Yeah–film, ‘s good. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with following your dreams. Everybody can’t play it safe and be a carpenter like me, otherwise we wouldn’t have nothin’ to look forward to at the end of the day. Movies, books, all the good stuff.”

“Yeah, well I think carpenters are pretty sexy. Might even mean a guy is good with his hands, no?”

He rolls over so his body is hovering over yours. There’s an arrogant smirk on his face, his breath ghosts your lips when he says, “you tell me, sweetheart. But we ain’t even had our first kiss yet.”

“Kiss me then.” 

This time his lips gently press yours, his tongue slowly sliding between your lips. Unlike the makeout session from earlier, this kiss is sweet and gentle. Like the kiss of a lover.

You couldn’t imagine a better way to end a first date.

[stellar-haikyuu]

in my dreams ☆ nishinoya yuu x reader

synopsis: in a world where soulmates exist, you’re not entirely sure what you’re destined for…until your dreams become reality. details: fluff | soulmates au | song fic | strangers to lovers | ~1.8k words | gn! reader | timeskip! nishinoya | my entry for @phantasmaebg warnings: this is my first time doing a soulmates thing and i’ve had a bit of a writing slump recently, so please bear with me!

Soulmates have long been a point of contention in your world.

Every pair is destined to share a unique “power.” Some people can share emotions or senses, read each others’ minds, have similar words written somewhere on their bodies, and whatever else you can imagine. 

The only definitive confirmation is what most call a zing—a short-lived, electrifying feeling when partners hold hands for the first time.

In theory, the idea of having a “forever partner” was lovely. Your parents are a prime example of the lifelong bond most people dream of having.

On the flip side? Some relationships have crashed and burned, despite being confirmed matches. Others have thrown out the idea entirely, choosing their hearts over fate.

Where do you fit in all of this? You don’t know. You’ve spent most of your life being pulled in both directions.

Your family is hopeful—eager, even—that you’ll continue their successful story. It’s pressuring, to say the least, not to mention terrifying.

What if your destined partner doesn’t believe in soulmates? 

What if the person you grow to love is hell-bent on looking for their soulmate?

What if you never meet your soulmate in your whole lifetime?

What if…

You don’t even want to think about it; nothing is certain and that exhausts you.

The only comfort you have is your dreams, where you feel free to exist. 

Ever since you were a child, you never understood how people could forget their dreams. Yours were incredibly vivid; the images lingered long enough for you to draw them in detail.

You easily recalled the way sunlight dances on crystal-clear waters, the soft whisper of wind through leaves, the fineness of the sand beneath your feet, the kaleidoscope of colors in the night sky, and how grand architectural feats towered over you.

You longed to see all of it with your own eyes.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. Traveling was a luxury for your family, and they weren’t the adventurous type either. The only thing you could do was create a bucket list of places you hoped to visit as an adult.

While most people desire to traverse the globe, there was something about yours that felt…different. You’ve dreamed of places and people that you’ve never seen before.

At first, you assumed they must have come from random glimpses of magazines lying around the house, or pictures your teachers had shown in class.

Then things got even weirder.

At some point in high school, new locations started appearing in your dreams. Gyms, volleyball courts, and stadiums. The exact same ones, over and over again.

A particularly beautiful girl started appearing more too. Slowly, more people joined her—at least thirteen more, if your count was accurate. You didn’t recognize any of them, but their unique voices stayed with you. 

While they were mostly pleasant dreams, it was still unsettling. You ended up asking your parents about it, but they quickly leaped to conclusions. "It’s probably connected to your soulmate!" they said, excitement lighting their faces.

It wasn’t exactly the reaction you expected, but thankfully, it pushed them to be more supportive of your dreams to travel. 

Eventually, the volleyball dreams faded, just as you started pursuing a degree in journalism. At last, you were carving a path to the life you’d always wanted—one where your curiosity could take you beyond the limits of your hometown.

You were one step closer to finally exploring the world.

A few years after graduating, you’ve been lucky enough to land a job with a well-known travel magazine. 

Apparently, you had an exceptional portfolio; your words alone were capable of painting the clearest pictures in the readers’ minds. It felt surreal to hear this praise, but more than that, it felt right. 

You felt like you were finally where you belonged.

Though you don’t get to choose the destinations for your assignments, it hardly matters. You’ve fallen in love with each place you’ve visited.

Whether exploring the whitewashed buildings of Santorini, cycling through the charming canals of Amsterdam, or basking in the turquoise waters of Boracay, every experience has broadened your horizons. 

Best of all, the company covers most of your travel expenses, so how could you complain?

Yet, one dream continues to elude you—the lantern festival.

For years, you’ve been enamored by its magic, picturing the moment hundreds of glowing lanterns fill the night sky. 

It’s been at the top of your bucket list since childhood. You’ve researched every detail: the best time to visit, the most stunning viewpoints, even the perfect wish to write on delicate paper. You’ve imagined the feeling of releasing your lantern so many times that it’s become second nature to dream about it, over and over.

Perhaps that’s why, as much as you’ve traveled, there’s a lingering ache in your chest. A small part of you feels incomplete, as if something is waiting for you there.

And then, one night, something in your dreams begins to shift.

You find yourself in the familiar scene of the festival, surrounded by the warm glow of lanterns. As always, you write your wish on the translucent paper: achieve my dreams and live a fulfilling life with no regrets.

But this time, something is different.

Beside your neatly written wish, there’s something new. Foreign characters—delicate strokes of Japanese script—appear as if they were always meant to be there. The ink feels familiar, though you don’t recall writing it.

Confused but curious, you prepare to lift the lantern. That’s when you notice you’re not alone.

Someone is with you. Their presence is so natural that it doesn’t feel strange, even though you can’t see their face. Together, you hold the lantern between you, your hands brushing as you gently release it into the air. The glow reflects in their silhouette, and for a moment, everything feels perfect. 

When you wake, the dream lingers. The feeling of their hand against yours stays etched in your mind, warm and tangible in a way none of your dreams have ever been.

You can’t shake the feeling that these fragments are leading you somewhere, like pieces of a puzzle waiting to fall into place.

You really hate delayed flights; you wouldn’t be running and panting now if things had gone as planned.

To be fair, the situation wasn’t anyone’s fault. A coworker unexpectedly fell sick, so you were asked to fill in and cover the annual Yi Peng Lantern Festival in Thailand at the last minute. 

Despite the frantic circumstances, you suppose it was a blessing in disguise.

Lungs burning, you finally arrive at the festival venue. The paper lanterns have already started to float into the night sky like glowing stars. You hope you’re not too late.

At the registration booth, you show the ticket your coworker had purchased in advance, only to encounter a new problem.

“We are very sorry, but there has been a shortage of lanterns,” the stationed employee explains. “There were a lot of walk-ins this evening. Would you be willing to wait? We are still looking for available vendors.”

You hum to yourself, thinking about what to do. Though it would have been nice, you suppose you didn’t need to release a lantern to write the article.

“Okay-”

“Share?” 

The sudden voice beside you makes you jolt.

Turning, you see a man with a bright, toothy grin. He points to his lantern, which looks a little big for him. It’s kind of adorable, now that you think about it.

“Me?” You point to yourself. “You want to share your lantern with me?”

“Yeah. So you happy. Uh, sorry, my English is not that good,” he says sheepishly.

You wave your hand dismissively. “It’s okay. Don’t worry, I understand you.”

“Great. Let’s go!” He gestures toward the crowd.

You bow to the event employee and thank him before following the stranger to a quieter spot.

“This is okay?” He looks back at you.

“Yup,” you reply. “Thank you so much.”

“Welcome. Here, write the wish.” He hands you a black marker.

Taking it, you select a blank area and write your wish down without a second thought. You’ve done this a hundred times in your dreams.

As you return the marker, you catch a glimpse of his wish. They’re written in Japanese script—the same characters you’ve seen in your dreams.

Wait.

Wait.

Your heart skips a beat as the realization hits.

The man notices your sudden silence and looks at your wish. He freezes, his expression unreadable.

“Uh,” you look at all the people around you, hoping to break the silence. “So, let’s get our lantern flying?”

“Yeah!” He positions himself at one end of the lantern. “Ready?”

Grabbing the other end, you nod.

“Three, two, one, up!”

Together, you release the lantern. It floats gently into the sky, joining the sea of glowing lights.

It’s breathtaking—something you’ll never forget.

“Thank you, uh, what’s your name?”

“My name?” He points to himself. “Nishinoya Yuu. Nickname is Noya.”

“Noya?” 

He enthusiastically gives you a thumbs-up. “Yes, Noya! And you are?”

You share your name, and he repeats it. You don’t know why, but you love the way it sounds on his tongue. He seems happy to have gotten your name right on the first try too.

“I feel like I just got déjà vu,” you comment, gazing at the sky.

“Decha what?”

“Déjà vu,” you explain. “Uh, it feels like I saw this happen before. In a dream.”

At your admission, something shifts in the atmosphere.

“Dream?” He furrows his eyebrows. “Dream, like sleeping?”

You nod at him, gesturing to everything going on around you. “I dreamed of this many times.”

Noya’s gaze remains fixed on you as he responds. “Me too. I dream of this. Many times.”

You glance at his bag, noticing a volleyball hanging from it. You’re immediately reminded of your high school dreams.

Were your parents right all along? 

Could it be?

“How about last night?” Your voice lowers. “Did you dream of fireworks?”

He gasps, eyes widening. “Yes. Beach fireworks.”

It can’t be a coincidence anymore.

“It’s you.” You can’t wipe the grin off of your face. “You’re the one.”

“The one?” Noya tilts his head.

You pause, wondering how he’ll react to your suggestion. “Soulmate?” 

For a moment, he stares at you, and you wonder if you’ve gone too far. You hope he doesn’t think you’re crazy.

However, before you can take your words back, he steps forward and takes both your hands in his.

Almost immediately, something surges through your body, like some sort of warm, vitalizing energy.

The zing.

You can’t tear your eyes away from each other, and you can see the same astonishment reflected in his.

“Soulmate,” Noya whispers. “Dream soulmate.”

And for once in your life, things start to make sense.

“Yeah, it’s you. You’re the one in my dreams.”

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