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peachiejeongin · 4 days ago

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ink and thorns, part 1 | hyunjin

part 2

synopsis: hwang hyunjin is the tattoo artist you cannot stand for the life of you, always acting so smug, so horrendous, and always attempting to flirt with you. you hate him, but what happens when you end up in his arms after a traumatic night?

pairing: tattoo artist!hyunjin x fem!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

warnings: mature & sexually explicit content (18+ recommended), lower case letters intended, swearing, pet names (sweetheart, princess, etc.), mentions of anxiety, cheating (not hyunjin or reader), mentions of losing a parent.

wc: 15.4k

notice: hello, my darlings! tattoo artist hyunjin has been on my mind for a while with the revelation of hyunjin's buzzcut and after being inspired to write a longer hyunjin fan fiction. thank you jeonginsleftcheek for the latter (please go read hate your guts, it is such an amazing read!). i hope you all like this story! i started working on it the minute hyunjin's buzzcut was revealed, and i have continued it between writing the other fictions on my account, so it has been a while in the making. thank you in advance for reading and enjoy :)

divider by: @cafekitsune

the door to prism ink studio creaked open as you clutched your printed design like a lifeline. a scent mixed of antiseptic and ink filled the air, the smell surprisingly soothing your rampant nerves.

this was going to be an exciting day for you; today was the day you were getting your first tattoo—a delicate flower you had carefully crafted to celebrate the milestone. after hours of sketching, you had perfected it; each thorn and petal was drawn to represent your personality, your story even—a girl who, although tested and tried at times, stood strong and beautiful like a rose.

you were enthusiastic, over the moon even, to get your first tattoo; however, the moment your eyes landed on the man behind the counter, your stomach twisted.

hyunjin.

of course, it had to be him—the sharp-featured tattoo artist with a permanent smirk and a blonde buzz cut that somehow made him even more insufferable. he was leaning casually against the counter, tattooed fingers idly tapping on his phone and occasionally making the cool silver of his rings clink. as soon as he noticed you, his dark eyes sparked with recognition, and a grin curved across his lips.

you had to resist the urge to turn around and leave.

hyunjin was not just some run of the mill tattoo artist; he was the reason your best friend, nari, had spent weeks crying over her half-finished sleeve. he had worked on her design for months, only to ditch her for a "better-paying client" before finishing the job, as nari had told you. sure, nari eventually found another artist, who notably completed the work better than hyunjin could have ever, but the drama left a bitter taste in your mouth. now, seeing him here, smug and unbothered, made your blood boil.

"well, hello there, sweetheart," he said smoothly, tucking his phone into his pocket. "you lost, or are you here for a tat?"

you swallowed your irritation and forced a smile, although it was visibly faux.

"i have an appointment with changbin."

'ah," hyunjin drawled, leaning forward and perching himself on his elbows as he tsked. "sorry to break it to you, but binnie's out today. got the flu."

"oh." your heart sank. "should i just reschedule then?"

"well you could." hyunjin tilted his head, feigning his thoughts. "that would mean waiting at least two months, though. changbin's pretty booked these days."

you hesitated, the urge to leave growing stronger with every second you had to look at hyunjin's stupid face; however, you had planned this appointment for weeks and felt as if you had waited long enough.

"fine," you eventually bit out. "who else is available?"

"let's see," hyunjin trailed off as he looked to the sky in fake ponderation. "chan's booked all day, felix is on break...looks like you're stuck with me." his shit-eating grin widened.

"you're kidding." you froze, your eyes narrowing. of course this would be just your luck.

"afraid not." he pushed himself off of the counter, tattoos shifting along his forearms as he crossed them. "unless you're cool with waiting an eternity for changbin, i'm your guy."

every nerve in your body screamed at you to say no, but practicality won out.

"whatever." you sighed in a resigned manner. "if i have to, i have to. let's just get this over with."

"love the enthusiasm!" hyunjin teased, motioning for you to follow him. as you stepped into the back, the smell of ink grew stronger, and you swore you saw him smirking over his shoulder.

this was going to be a long session.

the station hyunjin led you to was annoyingly perfect. black leather chairs sat gleaming under the warm glow of hanging edison bulbs, and his setup was meticulous, with ink bottles lined up like soldiers and glinting under the light; his sketch pad rested to the side, flipped open and allowing you to glance at some of his work, from skulls to portraits. Despite your feelings on the artist, you had to admit that the space screamed professionalism.

"you can sit," hyunjin told you, pulling on a pair of black rubber gloves with a sharp snap. "or are you going to glare at me all session?"

"i'm not glaring," you shot back, giving him a look full of annoyance and impatience.

"sure you aren't." he smirked, motioning to the chair.

reluctantly, you sat down, clutching your design. he took it from your hand, his fingers brushing over yours for the briefest second but just long enough to send a spark of irritation through you.

"a flower," he mused, holding up the design to the light in order to inspect it. his dark brows lifted, and the faintest smirk played on his lips. "how original."

"i like it," you snarled through a clenched jaw.

"good thing that's all that matters." he tossed the paper onto the counter and grabbed a fresh sheet to sketch. "but this could use some life. where you want it?"

"my wrist."

“risky,” he warned. “one of the most painful places for a tattoo.”

“i like taking risks. what can i say?”

hyunjin did not respond; instead, his gaze lasered in on the design as his hand glided over the paper with practiced ease. you hated how skilled he looked, hated the way his lips pursed in concentration and his lashes cast shadows against his chiseled cheekbones. he had no right to be so ethereal while being such an insufferable person.

"i’m making the petals softer," he explained, spinning the sketch around to show you. the design had more depth now, with delicate shading and a subtle curve that made the flower look like it was swaying in the wind. "see? it looks better."

"it's fine, i guess," you muttered, refusing to compliment him. you hated to admit it, but he was right. his artistry complimented the design much better than yours ever could have the potential to, and it looked absolutely gorgeous.

"wow, try to hold back your excitement," he chuckled. "you'll hurt my ego."

you ignored him as he prepped the station, the buzz of the tattoo machine igniting a fresh wave of nerves.

"first tattoo?" he asked, snapping you out of your anxious thoughts.

"yeah," you responded shortly.

"though so." he crouched beside you, his face annoyingly close as he adjusted your wrist with a light grip. "relax, alright? it's not that bad. besides, you can't be scared of needles and be a bitch. pick one."

"excuse me?" you scoffed. "can you just do the tattoo without the comments?"

"where's the fun in that, sweetheart?" hyunjin laughed, the sound low and rich.

hyunjin grabbed a cleaning cloth and quickly dabbed it over your wrist. he then carefully, yet firmly, applied the stencil he had drawn out on the sterilized area.

“look good?” he asked, holding up a mirror so you could see the outline. you nodded, watching as he grabbed the tattoo needle after your response. he dipped it in a fresh bottle of black ink and aligned it carefully over the stencil; its first touch against your skin made you wince, causing hyunjin to pause.

"you good?"

"fine," you replied, albeit through clenched teeth.

"alright. just breathe for me, princess."

"stop with the pet names."

hyunjin tuned out your last comment, already focused on the work at hand. his teasing demeanor slipped away as he worked. the machine's hum filled the silence as you watched hyunjin constantly wiping the tattoo needle clean, dipping it in different colored inks to complete the intricate shading he had added to the tattoo. for the first time, you saw a different side of hyunjin; he was calm, focused, and precise, completely contradicting his normal cockiness. after what felt like hours, he wiped the tattoo clean and leaned back, letting out a satisfied sigh.

"there. not bad for your first time, especially not for a wrist tattoo."

you glanced down at the flower blooming across your wrist, the details soft and intricate, exactly as you had hoped they would be.

"it's nice," you admitted begrudgingly.

"nice?" he raised a brow. "i'll take it. come back when you want another one. maybe get something less basic next time."

“doubt it,” you remarked, shooting him a glare. you swiftly strided to the door, preparing to exit; you did not get too far before hyunjin yelled after you.

“leaving without paying, sweetheart?” he inquired, stepping back behind the counter as he propped his chin up on his palm. you snapped your head in his direction, rolling your eyes as you let out an aggravated sigh. you pulled out your wallet, digging out three twenty-dollar bills and throwing them on the counter before turning to leave again.

“not so fast.” you stopped in your tracks, throwing your hands up in vexation.

“what now, fuckass?”

“only sixty bucks?” hyunjin counted the bills as if to accentuate his words.

“yeah,” you obliviously responded. “that’s what the price estimate was when i talked to changbin.”

“i’m not changbin, princess,” hyunjin retorted, setting the bills down to the side. “for a two hour appointment, especially with that much detail, you’re looking at about a hundred and twenty for me.”

“a hundred and twenty?!” you repeated, your voice raising out of anger. “i don’t have that much on me!”

“well, you’re in luck,” hyunjin replied with a fakely sweet tone. “there’s an atm right behind you.” he pointed to the grey banking machine right behind you, making you groan in frustration. you stomped the couple of steps it took to get to the atm and infuriatingly inserted your card, extracting another set of three twenty-dollar bills and slamming them in front of hyunjin. the smug, amused smile he had on his face made you want to slap him.

“there. a hundred and twenty bucks. can i go now?”

“what? no tip?” hyunjin quirked an eyebrow, his lips curving as he watched your stature further enrage.

“assholes don’t get tips,” you retorted.

“makes sense as to why you’re so uptight,” hyunjin scoffed.

“oh, fuck off,” you turned towards the door, finally making your leave as hyunjin yelled out a comment about how you did not say he was wrong.

you swore you would never go back.

you convinced yourself that hyunjin’s smug remarks and relentless teasing were not worth the trouble. sure, his artistry was undeniably stunning, but facing him again? absolutely not.

yet, here you were, standing outside prism ink studio for your second appointment; thankfully, changbin was finally back, and he had some free time in his schedule. thus, he offered you what he called a “make-up appointment” to apologize for missing your first one. to make matters even better, you had specifically asked if hyunjin would be working that day, to which changbin assured you he was not. your optimism of avoiding hyunjin was high as the bell above the door chimed. stepping inside, you were greeted by the now familiar whiff of the shop.

"welcome back, princess."

you have got to be kidding.

hyunjin was behind the counter again, leaning casually like he owned the place. his buzzed hair was freshly cut, accentuating his chiseled features even more, and his colorful tattoos peeked out from the sleeves of his black shirt. he looked up from his phone, his smirk spreading when he saw you.

"what are you doing here?" you snapped, stepping forward. "where’s changbin?"

"number one, i work here,” hyunjin shot back sharply. “number two, he’s out sick again. i’m covering for him today."

you stared at hyunjin, disbelief and frustration warring in your gaze.

"seriously? he promised he would be here today! does he ever show up for work?"

hyunjin shrugged, clearly enjoying your annoyed stature. "he can’t help getting sick. no use in whining about it."

"whatever. when's his next appointment?" you clenched your fists tightly as you asked, digging your nails into your palms as a way to hold yourself back from unleashing all of your bottled wrath.

"let's see." hyunjin tilted his head, pretending to think. "a couple of months, give or take, but you're in luck; i just so happen to have an opening right now. if you’re desperate enough, that is."

desperate was not the word, but the idea of pushing your design back another two months made you want to scream. it had taken you weeks after your first appointment to muster up the courage to get another tattoo, and the thought of waiting again was unbearable.

"you're really the only one available right now?” you questioned, sighing sharply.

"yup. seems like fate to me," he remarked, a wolfish grin prominent on his face. you thought fate seemed more like a cruel joke.

"fine," you snarled. "but this is the last time i’ll ever come to you for a tattoo."

"sure it is," he drawled, leading you to the back room.

the session started much the same as last time, with hyunjin throwing in a steady stream of comments designed to test your patience.

"another flower, huh? you're growing an entire garden," he teased, sketching out your new design.

"so what?" you muttered. "sure, flower tats are unoriginal, but they’re pretty."

"that's because i made them look pretty," he shot back. before you could retaliate, hyunjin spun his sketch pad around to show you his newly-crafted drawing. the design, which was a cluster of wildflowers trailing along your forearm, was breathtaking. It had depth, movement, and the same soft elegance as your first piece.

you hated how good hyunjin was at his job.

"it's alright," you shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. hyunjin chuckled as he prepared his station.

"you are a terrible liar, you know that?"

hyunjin cleaned the area of your forearm the tattoo would be placed upon before placing the stencil on top of it. once you had confirmed the placement, he dipped the tattoo needle in an ink cartridge ; it touched your skin for a second round, a much more bearable and familiar sensation now. for the next hour, your focus was on any and every thing except the steady hum of the machine. your gaze kept trailing to hyunjin’s hands, which were warm and steady. you noticed how his concentration was absolute, fully devoted to his artwork. you could not stand how professional he could be when he was not preoccupied with driving you insane.

as he worked, your phone buzzed on the counter. hyunjin glanced at it, smirking as he read the notification.

"boyfriend checking in?"

"none of your business," you dismissed quickly, sitting up slowly and swiping your phone away with your free hand, careful not to make hyunjin jerk the needle.

"that's a yes, then," he remarked, his tone casual but sharp enough to cut. "wonder if he knows how much time you've been spending with me lately."

your heart undeniably skipped a beat, but you covered it with a glare of faux annoyance.

"i have spent two tattoo appointments with you, and you act like it’s been two weeks or some shit," you growled. "focus on the tattoo and not my personal life, please?"

"only because you said please, sweetheart."

when the session ended, you analyzed the tattoo; as with the first one, it was absolutely gorgeous, but you would never admit that to hyunjin.

“looks nice,” you commented, though hyunjin caught the admirable glimmer in your eyes.

“yeah, yeah, i know you love it.”

“love is a strong word, fuckass,” you chuckled, knowing full well he was right. instead of responding, however, hyunjin handed you a business card with his number on it.

"here. for appointments," he explained. “because i know after two flakes, you’re not gonna want to try changbin again.” despite his words, the gleam in his eye suggested he had other intentions.

you took the card reluctantly, fully intending to never use it; however, as soon as you had paid and got to your car, you saved the number in your phone, giving hyunjin a contact name that you felt was fitting.

"fuckass."

the days after your second tattoo were quiet.

you could not stop staring at your phone, where hyunjin's number sat in your contacts under the hilarious nickname; at first, you had told yourself you would delete his number. having it felt unnecessary, especially considering his flirtatious manner paired with your relationship status. not to mention, you did not see the point in keeping the number of someone you could not stand.

but every time your thumb hovered over the delete button, something stopped you. maybe it was the nagging curiosity about his ulterior motives aside from “appointments.” maybe it was the urge to blow up his phone, bombarding him with a million questions about his work or about why he dipped out on nari. whatever it was, yet you refrained, keeping to yourself in an uncomfortable, deafening silence.

the last thing you were expecting that wednesday afternoon was a text notification, his contact name bolded above the messages icon.

fuckass: 'bet you're still admiring my work. don't forget to moisturize btw. wouldn't want the flowers to fade.'

you stared at your screen, incredulous.

you: 'how did you get my number? and do you text all your clients, or am i just lucky?'

his reply was instant.

fuckass: 'you put your phone number down on the information sheet before every session, dumbass. and i just text the ones who talk to me like i ruined their lives. it's cute.'

your fingers hovered over the keyboard, torn between ignoring him and firing back. against your better judgment, you chose the latter. against your better judgment, you chose the latter.

you: 'wow. professionalism really is dead.' fuckass: 'professionalism is boring. you would hate me more if I was boring.

you rolled your eyes at his response, tossing your phone aside and hoping that this conversation would be the end of your interactions with him.

spoiler alert: it was not.

over the next few days, hyunjin made it a point to text you almost every morning; sometimes, it was about your tattoos, and sometimes it was just to talk to you.

fuckass: 'favorite flower?' you: 'why?' fuckass: 'research for your next tattoo.' you: 'who says i'm coming back to you?' fuckass: 'you will.'

his confidence was maddening, but what was worse? he was not entirely incorrect.

you: 'daisies.'

one particularly bad day, you found yourself staring at his contact again, debating on whether or not to block him. the day was a disaster from the start: work was a mess, your boyfriend had not messaged you all day, and your anxiety was spiraling out of control.

to distract yourself, you scrolled through your messages, finding yourself rereading hyunjin's texts. against all logic, they made you feel...happier. his cocky attitude was infuriating, sure, but it was also humorous, almost grounding in a sense.

before you could stop yourself, your fingers were moving.

you: 'why do you always message me? you have to have a bunch of other clients you could be texting.'

his reply came within seconds.

fuckass: ‘yeah, but none of them are as fun to talk to.' fuckass: ‘don't get a big head about that btw. i can picture your smirk from here.'

despite what hyunjin thought via message, you were not smirking; you were smiling, the tension in your chest easing tremendously.

it was weird how the asshole always knew how to unintentionally make you feel better.

the weeks blurred together, each day filled with an irritating mix of responsibilities, and, somehow, more messages from hyunjin. he had worked his way under your skin in the most obnoxious way possible, texting you things at the most inconvenient times.

the weirdest part? it felt like hyunjin was texting you more than your boyfriend was. here recently, your boyfriend had gotten into a habit of going days, sometimes a week without responding to your messages; he always passed it off as you “overthinking” considering you lived together. yet, as the weeks went on like this, your gut began to unsettle at the feeling. you had thought about asking hyunjin for advice, if this was how guys normally acted; however, you subsided, letting the matter play out for itself. in fact, you were in the middle of staring at your phone, waiting for a message to pop up from your boyfriend explaining where he was at the hour. when your phone dinged, you became hopeful.

the wrong contact name popped up, however.

fuckass: 'if you had to pick a tattoo right now without thinking, what would it be?' you: 'a stop sign.' fuckass: 'ha. ha. you're sooooo funny.' fuckass: 'seriously tho. what are you getting next?' you: 'don't you have actual clients to bother?' fuckass: 'i’ve already told you, sweetheart. you’re funner to talk to.' you: ‘funner isn’t a word.’ fuckass: ‘i’m a tattoo artist, not an english teacher.’

you did not understand how he had such a flaring ere to him. he had a sense of self-pride that was unmatched, and he talked to you as if it was a natural, flowing thing to do, despite the prior tension to your "professional" relationship. no matter how much you told yourself to ignore him, you never did. there was something infuriatingly safe about hyunjin. he was consistent, yet annoying in the same way every time you spoke, and he was oddly insightful when he was not messing with you.

if only his thoughtfulness could save you from the heartbreak about to ensue.

it was a saturday afternoon when the first red flag appeared.

you were out with friends, sipping coffee at a small cafe, when your phone buzzed. you glanced at the screen, expecting it to be a social media notification or an annoying reminder to turn your volume down on your phone.

instead, it was a text message; a photo, to be precise.

fuckass: 'this your guy?'

the image was grainy, clearly taken from across the street. no matter the quality, however, you could recognize the face anywhere.

it was unmistakably your boyfriend; he was smiling as he leaned in far too close to a girl who was not you.

you: 'what are you doing?' fuckass: 'saw him on my way back to the parlor after my lunch break. thought you should know.'

you stared at the screen, your vision blurring. part of you wanted to accuse hyunjin of lying, of stirring up drama just so he could get under your skin; however, you knew that the picture did not lie, that it could not lie.

your fingers shook as you typed out a reply, anger clouding your judgment against all odds.

you: 'stay out of my personal life.' fuckass: 'k. suit yourself.

as soon as you got home, your boyfriend called, acting as if everything was normal. his voice grated on your nerves, every word sounding like a lie. you wanted to confront him, to demand an explanation for the photo hyunjin had sent you, but the thought of it made your stomach churn.

instead, you found yourself rushedly hanging up the phone, claiming to be tired. you did not take a nap, though; you typed out a message to hyunjin.

you: 'do you have any proof that he's cheating on me? like hardcore evidence?' fuckass: 'thought i was supposed to stay out of your personal life?' you: 'i wouldn't ask if i didn't want answers.' fuckass: ‘why is the photo not “hardcore” enough?’ you: ‘idk, what if the girl’s like his cousin or something?’ fuckass: ‘why would he be that close to a cousin?’ you: ‘idk. i just need something else to prove it.’ fuckass: ‘you think i would lie to you about something like this?’ you: ‘hyunjin, please.’

it took a few minutes, but another photo came through. this one was clearer, sharper; your boyfriend was holding hands with the same woman from the previous picture.

fuckass: ‘there. i ended up walking past them and snapped that.” fuckass: ‘i was trying to send you the one that would break your heart the least, but you’re fucking stubborn so there you go.’ fuckass: ‘there’s one of them kissing, too, but i’m not making you see that one.’

you stared at the picture for what felt like hours, your chest tightening with every passing moment. how could this be? how could the man who claimed to love you, who claimed he would give everything for you ruin your relationship in an instant? you felt your face go hot, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed to yourself.

you were broken out of your thoughts by another text from hyunjin.

fuckass: 'you okay?'

you did not reply. you did not know how to.

a week passed before you found the courage to do anything.

the photo sat on your phone screen like a tragedy you could not take your eyes off of. it was late, midnight to be precise, and well past the hour confrontations should happen; however you did not care. you had spent the past few days trying to ignore it, hoping it was not true, that hyunjin had misunderstood the circumstance. yet, the weight of the photo was overbearing, suffocating you each time you looked at it.

you paced your apartment as you waited for your boyfriend to return home; he had been out all day, doing only the good heavens knew what. every second ticked by like it was a warning. the image burned into your mind: your boyfriend's hand clasped around hers, his thumb just barely over her knuckles in a way he always did with you.

when his key finally turned the lock, your heart dropped to your stomach.

he walked in casually, kicking off his shoes without a second glance in your direction.

"hey," he greeted, his voice neutral. "why are you still up?"

"where were you?" you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. "your schedule said you got off at 5:00. it's 12:00."

he froze for a split second before recovering, tossing his bag onto the counter.

"out with friends. why?"

"you didn't think to call?" you gripped your phone tightly, the corners of it pressing into your palm. "which friends were you with?"

he frowned, clearly caught off guard.

"why does it matter?"

"because i want to know who she is," you snapped, holding up your phone to show him the photo hyunjin had sent you. his expression shifted in an instant, his confident mask crumbling. he stared at the screen, his jaw tightening.

"the hell is this?"

"you tell me," you retaliated, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and heartbreak. "who the fuck is she? and don't you dare lie to me."

he stepped forward, his hands raised in mock surrender.

"baby, i promise you it isn't what it looks like."

"oh really? because it looks like you're holding her hand," you shot back bitterly. "and it also looks like you've been lying to me for only god knows how long."

"it's not-" he began, but you cut him off.

"don't," you warned, your voice breaking with each syllable. "don't you stand there and insult me with excuses. tell me the truth. are you cheating on me?"

the silence that followed the question was deafening. he looked away, his shoulders slumping.

"it's... complicated."

the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet; your head spun as you formulated a response.

"complicated?" you repeated, your voice hollow. "how is it complicated? you either cheated on me or you didn't."

he did not answer, but his silence was louder than any confession. your chest tightened, and tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

"i trusted you," you told him quietly, your barely-audible voice quivering as you spoke. "i gave you everything, and this is how you repay me?"

"it wasn't supposed to happen," he tried to claim, his voice nearing the octave of a whisper.

his response was all it took to break you. the tears spilled over, smearing your mascara down your cheeks; you laughed bitterly through the pain, almost sounding psychotic.

"i don’t know how being romantic with someone who is not your girlfriend isn’t supposed to happen, but congratu-fucking-lations. it happened." he stepped closer, but you backed away. "don't. get the fuck away from me, and get out."

"y/n, please-"

"i'm not going to say it again," you apprised, your tone crackling with rage. "get the fuck out of my house. we are over."

for a moment, he looked like he might argue, but then he nodded, grabbing his bag and his shoes and heading for the door. when it shut harshly behind him, the apartment felt unbearably empty, the quiet pressing in on you from all sides.

you sank onto the couch, your head in your hands, trying to breathe through the asphyxiating pressure in your chest. everything felt raw, like the air itself was too sharp against your skin.

disregarding how you felt in the moment, disregarding every ounce of pain coursing through you, your mind wandered to one thing: the only person who had warned you of what was coming, and the only person you knew could take away your sorrow in the moment.

hyunjin.

you found yourself self-consciously reaching for your phone; this time, there was no hesitation as you scrolled to his contact.

you: 'do you by chance have an opening?' fuckass: 'for you? always.' fuckass: 'everything alright?' you: 'just need a tattoo.'

you did not offer an explanation, and to your bewilderment, hyunjin did not push for one.

fuckass: 'come to the studio in a couple of hours. i’ll be here.'

the studio was quiet when you arrived; quiet was an understatement, as a matter of fact. there were no cars in the parking lot, and there seemed to be no one inside. you walked towards the entrance, your steps hesitant but purposeful. hyunjin was waiting for you at the door, the only semblance of life within the colorful building. his smirk was replaced with a look you did not recognize as he unlocked the door.

"you look terrible," he commented bluntly as you stepped inside; however, his tone seemed uncharacteristically soft rather than demeaning or teasing even.

"thanks. just what i needed to hear tonight," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "can i just get my tattoo?" hyunjin nodded, not arguing and leading you to his station without another word.

"i thought the studio would still be...y'know, open," you remarked, attempting to mask the quiver in your voice with the smug comment. "why did you tell me to come here after hours?"

"i always bring the prettiest clients here," hyunjin replied, his voice seeming more genuine and sweeter than teasing. "no, i just thought you could use the quiet. we were pretty busy today, and i didn’t want the noise to overstimulate you."

his care surprised you, and you found yourself nodding as you kept your gaze glued to the ground; however, your heart warmed at the gesture, at the smallest semblance that he did have some form of a heart.

"thanks."

"no problem. what's the design?" he inquired once you were seated. you handed him a rough sketch you had made a couple days prior as a way to distract yourself from what was happening with your boyfriend; it was a cluster of forget-me-nots, delicate and intricate.

"pretty," hyunjin remarked after a moment, his voice retaining its gentle demeanor. "why forget-me-nots in particular?"

"doesn't matter," you replied, your voice angrier than intended. hyunjin's lips twitched as if there was some sort of sarcastic comment waiting to spill out; however, he just nodded.

"alright. where do you want it?"

"here," you responded, gesturing to the inside of your forearm.

hyunjin studied you for a moment, his eyes searching yours. instead of pressing, he nodded once again and got to work sketching a stencil.

placing the outline onto your skin, hyunjin flipped on his tattoo gun, its hum filling the silence. for once, he did not try to distract you with his jokes or relentless teasing. his focus was unwavering, more so than usual, and his hands steadied as they moved over your skin.

when the needle paused, you looked up to find him watching you.

"what?" you questioned in a defensive manner.

"nothing." he shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "you're just...quieter than usual. it’s weird."

"maybe i'm just sick of arguing with you." you swallowed hard, forcing the accumulated lump in your throat to stay down.

"i highly doubt that," he replied lightly, but the concern in his eyes lingered.

the machine's faint whir filled the tense quietude again as hyunjin resumed his work. you focused on the sensation, the rhythmic buzz and sharp prick of the needle pulling you back into the present.

hyunjin did not speak again until he wiped away the ink and inspected his progress.

"almost done," he commented, his tone calm. "how are you holding up?"

his question seemed to have a double meaning, and you pondered for a moment, wondering if he was referring to your tattoo or your personal life.

"fine," you lied, no matter what circumstance he was referring to. your voice was tight, and hyunjin tilted his head, clearly unconvinced but letting it slide.

"cool."

the final moments of the session passed quietly. when he finished, he leaned back and set the machine aside, turning your arm to show you the tattoo.

"there," he said softly, his tone almost proud. "whatcha think?"

you blinked down at the design, the intricate cluster of forget-me-nots etched delicately into your skin. they looked fragile but strong simultaneously, their soft edges balanced by the clean precision of hyunjin's linework.

they mirrored your current situation to a tee; you were vulnerable because of what had happened, yet you kept standing strong, refusing to blow over.

"it's beautiful," you whispered, your voice cracking on the last syllable. hyunjin did not respond, his eyes locked on yours as if they were searching for something.

that is when it happened.

the dam inside of you broke, the tears spilling over before you could stop them. you pressed your hands to your face, trying to conceal your sadness in order to keep the same strength the forget-me-nots were supposed to represent, but it was no use. the sobs came in waves, years of trust, love, and betrayal crashing down on you all at once.

hyunjin froze, his eyes widening into golf-balls. then, slowly, he leaned forward, his hands hovering just above your back as if he was not sure you would let him comfort you.

"hey," he called softly. "it's okay. let it all out, sweetheart."

"i...i don't even know why i'm crying. it's so stupid." you shook your head, the words tumbling out in broken stutters.

"it's definitely not stupid," he countered firmly, his demeanor low and grounding. "you're allowed to be angry, y/n."

"i feel so pathetic." you dropped your hand, meeting his gaze through the tears.

"well, you're not," he retaliated, his brows furrowing together. "you're human. and a human who has been through hell, at that."

the tenderness in his voice hit you harder than anything else, and before you knew it, you were leaning forward, burying your face in his chest as your arms snaked tightly around his waist.

hyunjin stiffened for a moment, then his arms came around you, strong and steady. he did not say anything; he just held you as you cried, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

minutes passed, feeling more like hours, before the racing panic inside of you quieted. when you pulled back, your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"i'm sorry," you muttered, wiping at your face as your gaze quickly flickered away from hyunjin's. "i didn't mean to-"

"don't apologize," he interrupted softly but firmly. "seriously. you needed that hug." you nodded, unsure of what to say.

"you have a lot of people who care about you, y'know," he spoke after a moment, leaning back in order to give you space; although, his eyes never left you. "you don't have to go through this alone."

"funny." a small, humorless laugh escaped you. "that's exactly how it feels."

"i mean it," hyunjin responded quietly, his tone unwavering. "you are not alone. i don’t care how that douchebag made you feel. you are worth being cared about. you’ve got this, okay?"

for a moment, the weight of his words settled over you, heavier than you expected.

"thank you," you finally stated, your tone barely rising above a whisper. "you know, you aren't the asshole i thought you were."

hyunjin gave a small, genuine smile in response.

"i try not to be. i’m always here for you, princess."

the ride home from the tattoo shop felt heavier than usual, your arm wrapped protectively in the thin plastic film that hyunjin had meticulously applied. the air outside was crisp, the kind that made every breath sting just a little, yet, it did not distract from the hurricane of emotions inside of you.

it was not just your breakup, though the trauma of that alone was enough to leave you reeling. it was hyunjin; his words, his steady presence, the way he held you as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

for someone you had spent so much time resenting, he felt alarmingly like a safe space for you.

when you got home, the silence of your apartment felt suffocating. you dropped your bag by the door, staring at the faint outline of the couch where you had just laid hours earlier, crying your poor heart out from sheer betrayal. the memories lingered in the walls, in the spaces between the furniture, and it was all too much.

your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you out of your thoughts.

fuckass: 'make it home okay?'

the question was simple, but it hit harder than you had expected it to.

you: 'mhm, i got here alright.'

you hesitated before typing the next part.

you: 'thank you. for earlier.' fuckass: 'anytime.'

you stared at the screen for a moment, longer than you had intended to, before setting your phone down and heading to the bathroom. the forget-me-nots on your arm stared back at you in the mirror, their ethereal petals a sharp contrast to the rawness you felt inside of you.

but they were beautiful, and they were yours.

and for the first time that week, you felt the smallest flicker of hope.

the next few days passed in a blur. you threw yourself into work, hobbies, and anything else that would keep your mind from spiraling too far into its own mental traps. hyunjin had not been messaging, and you did not know whether to feel relieved or disappointed at that fact.

but you could not stop thinking about him.

you could not stop thinking about the tattoo or the way he had comforted you. you could not shake off the subtle shifts in his behavior, the way his teasing had softened into something resembling protectivity that night. you had spent years building walls around yourself, and somehow, without even trying to, hyunjin had started to tear them down.

you were not ready to face that music. not yet.

not until a week later, when you found yourself back at the shop. you had not planned the visit; your feet had carried you to the parlor before your brain could catch up with your actions.

the door jingled as you stepped inside, and hyunjin's head snapped up from the counter where he had been sketching. his eyes widened, and his lips quirked into a soft smirk.

"well, well, well," he smirked, a hint of surprise present in his voice. "trouble's back."

"don't sound so shocked," you shot back, though your tone lacked its usual sass.

"what? you miss me already?" there he was. there was the teasing guy you had grown to know, standing there as he crossed his arms over his chest. you rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched upwards despite yourself.

"actually, i need to talk to you."

"about what?"

you hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the strap of your bag.

"the flowers you did. the forget-me-nots. they're absolutely perfect."

"yeah?" hyunjins smirk softened into something warmer, something legitimate. “looks like they’re healing nicely, too.”

"yeah," you agreed, meeting his gaze. "i just wanted to say thank you, but properly this time."

"don't mention it, sweetheart." he shrugged, but the way his eyes lingered on you betrayed his nonchalance. "it was nothing."

"but it was," you insisted. “it meant a lot to me.”

for a moment, the air between the two of you shifted, heavy with unspoken words.

"so," hyunjin started. "you want another one?"

"another tattoo?" you blinked at him.

"duh. unless you came here just to flirt with me," he replied, his playful smirk returning. you felt your cheeks heat up, and you cursed yourself for letting him get to you so easily.

"don't flatter yourself."

"too late," he responded with a grin, gesturing for you to follow him to his station. "you're in luck; i've got an opening, so let's see what you've got."

as you sat down, you could not help but notice how his demeanor had shifted. the cocky bravado was still there, but underneath it was something softer, something almost gentle.

something from that night was still lingering.

you pulled out your sketchbook, handing him the simple sheet of paper; the design you had chosen for this occasion was a simple daisy, its petals unfurling in soft, graceful lines.

"your favorite," he remembered, his voice seeming almost reminiscent; the way he had recalled the information made your heart jump, your body becoming overcome by a heat that was previously absent.

"any reason you chose this other than it being that?" his question fixed you back into reality; his eyes fixed on you, the orbs seeming as if they were searching your physicality for an answer.

"it's..." you hesitated, your fingers brushing the edge of the drawing pad. "it's for me. for everything i've been through these last few weeks. i get a lot of flower tattoos, yeah, but they all represent my strength. this one is a reminder that i’m still me." hyunjin nodded, his gaze softening.

"i get that."

there was something in his tone, something that made you glance up at him. for the first time, you realized how much you did not know about him, like who he was, where he came from, or what had shaped him into the person standing in front of you.

"have you ever gotten a tattoo for that?" you asked, surprising yourself with the question.

"maybe." hyunjin tilted his head, his lips quirking into a faint beam. "but you would have to figure out which one."

you rolled your eyes, but your curiosity grew.

“hm…that one.” you pointed to his forearm, where a dragon wrapped itself around his skin; the detail was intricate, almost as if the dragon was breathing fire in real time.

“very good, princess,” hyunjin smirked. “how’d you know?”

“lucky guess, i suppose,” you shrugged, smiling. “what’s it mean?”

“well, dragons are fierce animals,” hyunjin began. “i got this done after going through a breakup to remind me that i was tougher than i thought.”

"how ironic,” you responded with a dry laugh, to which hyunjin’s eyes brightened. “what's your favorite tat?"

"what's with the questions, sweetheart?" he questioned, his gaze turning cheeky once more. "finally warming up to me?"

"don't get ahead of yourself," you warned. "and i don't know. just curious i guess."

his expression shifted then, turning from bright to thoughtful as he turned his other arm over to reveal a small, delicate design on the inside of his wrist; it was a crescent moon, cradled by wisps of clouds.

"this one's my favorite," he told you softly. "did it on myself, actually."

"what's it mean?" you repeated the question, tracing the shape with your eyes, your heart tugging in a way you did not expect it to. hyunjin hesitated, his stare dropping longingly to the tattoo.

"i got it for my mom," he explained after a few brief moments of silence. "she used to say that the moon was watching over us both, no matter how far apart we were." the vulnerability in his demeanor caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were speechless.

"that's beautiful," you responded quietly. hyunjin shrugged, but his eyes stayed on the inked design.

"she passed a few years ago. i guess this was my way of keeping her with me."

your chest ached at the raw honesty in his words, and before you could stop yourself, you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly atop his wrist.

"i'm really sorry, hyunjin. i didn't know."

he looked up then, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that felt almost unbearable.

"it's okay," he replied. "it's nothing i really go about parading." the moment stretched between the two of you, silent and fragile, until he cleared his throat and pointed to his station. "i should probably get started on your sketch."

you nodded, sinking into the seat as he began to prepare.

the session went as the others with him had gone, adorned with teasing comments but finishing with a beautiful daisy coming to life on your right shoulder. the only difference is, when the tattoo was finished, you found yourself reluctant to leave. the shop felt warmer than the cold, biting air outside, and hyunjin's presence had a way of anchoring you in a way you had not expected.

nevertheless, you reached hesitantly for the door handle of the parlor, only stopping when hyunjin called for you; the door jingled a little as you opened it slightly before closing it once more, and you slowly turned your head in his direction.

"you gotta be hungry after that session, right princess?" he asked, snapping off his gloves and discarding them in a nearby trash can. you blinked in reply, a tad surprised by his question.

"i mean a little," you reluctantly answered. "why?"

hyunjin grinned, grabbing a ripped jean jacket out of the space behind the counter and slinging it over his shoulder.

"come on," he commanded. "there's a place around the corner that has killer ramen."

you hesitated; the idea of spending time with him outside of the shop felt both thrilling and dangerous. not to mention, you were incredibly skeptical of anyone's attempts to be nice after the revelation of your boyfriend's faux love.

"look, if this is just you trying to act on some sort of feeling because i'm single now-"

"it's not," hyunjin quickly interjected, correcting you as he scoffed. "just think of it as my treat to you. you've been through fuck knows what and i wanna give you something nice. is that so wrong?"

"when we're supposed to keep this relationship professional, just a little," you unintentionally snarled out.

"like i said," hyunjin started, leaning down to meet your height, "professionalism is boring. now, are we getting food or not? my break starts in a minute." you thought about it for a few moments, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you nodded.

"sure. why the hell not?"

hyunjin moved his arm down in a victorious motion, holding the door open and giving an 'after you' gesture as you joined him in the chilling wind.

the ramen shop was tucked away on a quiet street corner, its glowing LED sign swaying gently in the cold breeze. inside, the space was small and slightly closed-in, with warm lighting that bathed everything in a golden glow. the hum of soft jazz music mixed with the quiet clatter of chopsticks against bowls, creating a lively yet comforting atmosphere.

hyunjin led you to a booth near the window, shrugging off his jacket and sliding into the seat across from you. you hesitated before sitting, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were to him in such a cozy, unfamiliar setting.

"order whatever you want," hyunjin told you, gesturing to the laminated menu.

you picked it up, scanning the options, though your focus kept shifting back to him. in the warm light, his features looked softer, less guarded. your eyes drifted from the contours of his jawline, to the tattoos decorating his arms and collarbones, back up to the strange beauty of his buzz cut. there was something disarming about seeing him out of his usual sharp surroundings; it was almost like seeing a different side of him.

"you're staring," hyunjin interrupted your thoughts, his eyes still fixated on the menu.

"i am not," you shot back, narrowing your eyes at his teasing smirk.

"sure, sweetheart. and i'm a model." you rolled your eyes, setting down your menu to look at the artist; his eyes were now on you, boring an unfamiliar look into you. there was a certain...sincerity to his cheeky manner, and the realization made your cheeks heat up.

he certainly could be a model.

"whatever," you mumbled. "i'm ready to order." upon your words, hyunjin waved over the waitress and gave her both of your orders with an ease that suggested he was a regular here.

when the food arrived, steam billowed from the bowls, carrying the rich aroma of miso and chili. hyunjin handed you a pair of chopsticks, and you both dug in, the first few bites melting away the lingering awkwardness.

"so, does the parlor know you bring your clients out to lunch, or are we keeping that secret?" you asked, breaking the silence with daring look at him.

"what do you mean clients?" hyunjin raised an eyebrow, adding extra emphasis on the plurality of the word. "i told you: this is just a pick-me-up for you. seeing you quiet is...weird. do you really think i'd go out of my way for everyone that comes to me for a tattoo?"

"i'm sure the charm works on everyone," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"awe, you think i have charm?" he tilted his head innocently, laying a hand over his heart.

"don't push it, hyunjin," you warned, holding up your chopsticks to punctuate your words. to your shock, he laughed; the sound was low and genuine, and it made your chest tighten in a way you did not expect it to. you shook your head, attempting to brush the matter off, but the small smile on your lips gave you away.

halfway through the meal, the conversation shifted, the teasing giving way to something that had been nagging at your mind since you began your appointments with hyunjin.

"nari came by the other day," you said, carefully testing the waters. hyunjin's chopsticks paused midair, and his expression flickered before he schooled it into something neutral.

"she did, did she?"

"yeah," you responded, picking at your noodles with your chopsticks. "whatever happened with that? y'know, her tattoo?" he sighed, leaning back in his seat and running a colorful hand over his buzzed head.

"i'm assuming she told you i bailed on it."

you halted for a moment, unsure whether or not to push on the matter.

"did you?" you questioned, finally looking up to make eye-contact with hyunjin.

"it's...complicated," he answered, his voice quiet.

"i am tired of hearing that from men," you scoffed, unintentionally directing your internalized anger from the week onto hyunjin. "that's not an answer."

hyunjin's jaw tightened, and for a moment, he did not say anything. when he finally spoke, his voice was calm, an edge of vulnerability beneath it.

"nari wanted something really intricate added onto her sleeve. she wanted a phoenix stretching across her entire arm, but halfway through, she changed her mind about the placement and the design."

"so you stopped?"

"i didn't have a choice," he explained, meeting your eyes. "i tried to explain how difficult it would be to start over after we had already done the outline, but she got upset. I told her we could redo it another day, but i guess she didn't take it too well."

"so, you didn't quit on her," you frowned, piecing the story together. "you just tried to be honest with her?"

"yeah," he answered softly. "i don't think she saw it that way though. she said i didn't care enough to finish it, and... i don't know. maybe she was right."

"that doesn't sound like you," you retorted before you could stop yourself.

hyunjin looked at you, his eyes searching your face for something; he was not exactly sure what it was, however.

"you don't even know me."

"maybe i don't know you," you admitted. "but i have interacted with you more than enough to know that you wouldn't give someone a half-finished tattoo without a reason." hyunjin's shoulders relaxed upon your reassurance, which told you that he appreciated the vote of confidence.

"looks like i was right: you are finally warming up to me, princess" he teased, his attention going back to his food.

by the time you left the ramen shop, the sky had morphed into a blanket of stars, the chill in the air biting at your skin.

"c'mon, I'll walk you to your car," hyunjin suddenly insisted, his voice casual but his eyes holding a quiet intensity. you nodded in reply, clasping your jacket tighter around you.

the walk was quiet, the kind of silence that felt comfortable rather than awkward. when you reached your vehicle, you paused before opening the driver-side door. you turned to face him, a small but appreciative smile on your face.

"thanks for tonight," you said gently. "i really needed that pick me up."

"anytime." hyunjin smiled, but it did not reach his eyes; instead, his already dark brown eyes had noticeably darkened, carrying a familiar, intense emotion within them.

the weight of his gaze made your breath hitch, and before you could stop yourself, you stepped closer, looking up at him with pure admiration in your gaze. his eyes flickered to your lips, his body tensing like he was holding himself back.

"don't," he muttered, his voice thick with something you could not exactly determine.

"don't what?" you whispered, a hand unconsciously placing itself on hyunjin's chest.

"don't look at me like that," he responded, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face.

the air between you felt electric, every nerve in your body alive with anticipation. then, as if pulled by some kind of invisible force, your lips met his in a kiss that was slow, passionate, and filled with everything you could not put into words.

for a moment, the world stopped spinning. the only thing that existed was the warmth of his mouth against yours and the way his hand cupped the back of your neck like he never wanted to let go. every emotion you had felt was spilling over into the kiss; hyunjin was an absolute asshole at times, sure, but it was not in the way you had initially envisioned. he never had bad intentions, and his nature only came from the fact that he was an absolute tease with a difficult past.

you were falling in love with the enemy.

"look who's acting on feeling now," hyunjin smirked against your lips, going back in a second after saying it; however, his words contained a different sort of weight. the snapped you back into reality, and you pulled away from hyunjin, your heart racing from a blend of passion and anxiety.

you were falling in love with the enemy…and you were not ready to.

"i...i'm so sorry," you mumbled, your gaze going down to the ground.

"for what, sweetheart," hyunjin questioned, his tone breathy. "don't say for doing that without asking, because you have no idea-"

"i can't do this, hyunjin," you stammered, stepping back until your back was pressed against your car. "I shouldn't have kissed you. i’m not ready for something new."

“sweetheart-”

“no! this was a mistake!”

hyunjin's expression fell, a flicker of hurt crossing his face before he masked it.

"if that's what you think," he shrugged, his demeanor clearly painful.

you did not know what to say, so you thanked him for the meal once more, your heart pounding as you disappeared into your car. hyunjin watched dejectedly as you drove off, his heart aching with the thought of what could have been.

or what could still be, as a matter of fact.

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght, @amararosesblog (If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)

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chipperchemical · 8 months ago

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it's time for my annual insanity arc, so here is every hermit/traffic ship that i actively enjoy and 1 headcanon for each one! (worth mentioning that i love most ships, these are just my favourites)

Grian x Mumbo (Grumbo) -> Grian is the only one who can bring Mumbo out of his redstone hyper-focus mode by cooking him unnecessarily gourmet meals and pretending to be sad when Mumbo doesn't instantly sit down to eat with him.

Grian x Scar (Scarian) -> When Scar's in his wheelchair, Grian will run around while pushing him and sing the Mario Kart star song at full volume.

Grian x Bdubs (Gridubs) -> They have a STRICT nighttime routine and if anyone interrupts then they will never hear the end of it.

Grian x Doc (Gridoc) -> Grian keeps bringing different animals home and Doc keeps trying to say no, but every single one grows on him eventually.

Grian x Mumbo x Scar (Mumscarian) -> Mumbo keeps trying to convince the other two to eat redstone, but he's only successfully convinced Scar.

Bdubs x Doc (Bdoc) -> The absolute embodiment of the sunshine/moon trope, but Doc is the sunshine and Bdubs is the moon.

Bdubs x Etho (Ethdubs) -> Etho likes trying on dresses and skirts and gives Bdubs little catwalk fashion shows.

Bdubs x Impulse (Impdubs) -> Extremely sweet to each other while destroying their enemies.

Bdubs x Keralis (Kerdubs) -> They spend every Sunday eating cereal and watching a movie in bed.

Bdubs x Mumbo (Bedstone) -> Mumbo's fast food order is always incorrect and Bdubs is the one who has to ask the worker to correct it.

Bdubs x Zedaph x Impulse x Tango x Skizz (BZITS) -> The ONLY thing that makes them all chill out after hard days is a massive cuddle pile in their nest of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals.

Cub x Scar (Cubscar) -> When they're close to each other, their eyes get slightly bluer and their prankster urges get stronger, like a physical biological change.

Cub x Doc (Docub) -> They constantly dress up as Dr Frankenstein and Frankenstein's Monster for Halloween, and they switch who is who every year.

Doc x Etho (Detho) -> Doc leaves little gifts and bouquets around Etho's base, but Etho either doesn't see them or has zero idea who they're from until Doc brings it up.

Doc x Ren (Rendoc) -> The fathers of the server.

Doc x Joel (Doel) -> They are the most stubborn and competitive couple to the point that the others can't tell if they're on the verge of breaking up or not -- they never are.

Doc x Zedaph x Impulse x Tango x Skizz (DZITS) -> They regularly smoke zaza together and bake brownies.

Etho x Joel (Smalletho) -> Their only petnames for each other are vicious insults.

Impulse x Skizz (Skizzpulse) -> Impulse doesn't typically like touch, but Skizz's hugs are so warm and comforting that he doesn't mind one bit.

Impulse x Zedaph x Tango (ZIT) -> Tango and Impulse have amazing body heat while Zedaph is always cold, so their cuddles are the perfect temperature.

Impulse x Zedaph x Tango x Skizz (ZITS) -> The other Hermits figured out that they were a polycule after extreme confusion over why they all kiss each other.

Impulse x Tango x Skizz (ITS) -> Impulse and Skizz both use Tango as a heat pack for their wings and chronic pains.

Tango x Jimmy (Ranchers) -> They're both the absolute best gift-givers and always give each other the perfect presents.

Skizz x Tango x Jimmy (Jizzango) -> Jimmy goes non-verbal sometimes so they all know sign language and are experts at Charades.

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vilsoo · 1 year ago

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𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 ⌇LEON KENNEDY

vampire!reader x prince!leon || WC: 3,626

𖤐 SYNOPSIS. you’ve had your eye on prince leon for a long time, impersonating as a sweet duchess developing an ardent relationship with him. but with your dark intentions, you crave for nothing but his blood and to corrupt him as a vampire…

𖤐 WARNINGS. historical royalty au, duchess!reader, coercion so dubcon warning, seduction, hypnosis, eventual smut, bathtub sex, marking, neck biting, blood drinking, mentions of killing, loss of innocence, kinda ooc leon, multiple orgasms.

HORRORLAND/KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

[HAUNTED HOUSE ANNOUNCER] You are now entering the Lust at First Bite live venue. This haunted house attraction depicts scenes of violence, intense loud audio, special effects, and content warnings posted. For a fun and safe experience, please follow our code of conduct: no touching live performers and decorations, no flash photography, and no eating. Do not block passageways, or this will result in expulsion. Smoking and drinking are permitted for our haunted houses only. We hope you enjoy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Your grace. There is a nice, hot bath prepared just for you in the master bathroom.”

Your gaze settles onto Prince Leon as you were reading a book on your sofa, drinking in the very sight of him. He felt his own heartbeat stomp through his ribcage from how ravishing you looked under the pale moonlight radiating from your window, dressed in your nightgown and the enamoring glimmer in your eyes drizzling into his skin, buzzing in all directions of his soul. You see him with his embellished suit off and only his white dress shirt, a sign that he would be retiring back to his chambers soon for the night.

You’ve favored each other for the longest. You knew that Prince Leon had deep, incandescent feelings for you, the darling duchess of España, but was too abashed to confess. And even though there was a lingering part of you that shares the same feelings, your heart wasn’t in the right place. No desire for love, commitment, marriage, or even the title of queen in the kingdom once Leon inherits his title as king. Only a handsome man like him can writhe you into a carnal fervor, your dark desire growing stronger like a restless, insatiable hunger…

The forbidden lust and tension between you two was tormenting to even bear every second you spend time together; you wanted him in ways that he could never imagine, all those filthy, vivid dreams filling your mind. The passion, the roughness, the danger, the urge to corrupt that sweet, innocent soul… Moments in time when you’re both alone was like playing with fire and ice, aware that such ravenous desire and yearning for each other could be intoxicating…

Prince Leon lends a hand for you as you stand before him, your beautiful, genuine smile causing his heart to flutter. “Why, thank you, Your Highness. I’ll be on my way right now.”

“No need for formalities, remember?” Leon smiled back, still holding onto your hand that his thumb involuntarily grazes your fingers. Your gaze flickers down on his hands and then up into his face, fighting the urge to inch ever so closely to feel his lips on yours.

“Right. Well, are you retiring to bed for the night?”

“I was on my way, but… if you have any requests before I go, I’ll be of service.”

Slowly letting go of his hand, your longing gaze drifts to the bay windows, a silent statement that you didn’t want him to leave just yet. Coronation is just in three days and Leon will become king. Ever since you were inherited duchess, you’ve waited so long for this very moment… Not to celebrate Leon and partake in festivities, but to celebrate your own triumph...

The triumph of finally drinking his blood.

“Will you help me unlace my dress?” you requested ever so fondly. Leon looked as if every fiber of his being seized at the question, rendered motionless and his jaw slightly slackened.

“Uh, are you— are you sure, your grace?” he stammered. “You’re comfortable with me… touching you like that? Wouldn’t we be in some sort of trouble…?”

His innocence prompted a chuckle from you, coyly slanting your head at him with the right kind of heat and ardor pooling in your flaunting eyes. Immediately his mind is haunted by the hollow embrace of your gaze. Oh how you loved enticing the prince without lifting a finger, that he couldn’t help but to get lost in you, already undressing you with his eyes.

“Oh, Leon. You said you’d be of service for me tonight. Why would I get you into trouble?” You simpered, whirling your body around to reveal your delicate frill laced corset beautifully tied into a bow. Though the prince was hesitant to even lay a finger on your enamoring body, he would forever adorn your warming embrace, urging him to please you and surrender to your unfair seduction.

“Forgive me. You know how I tend to be… wary of your grace. I would do anything as you please.”

A smile stretches across your face, emitting soft sighs of relief as Leon loosens up your dress and the pressure finally lifted from your waist. The steady pace of beating hearts and slowed breathing, his calloused hands lightly brushing against your back, the shape of your body seeping into his mind… Your body has already succumbed to this desiring aroma, addicted to each other with such burning ecstasy.

“I worry that once you’re king, the circumstances between us may change,” you murmured as Leon loosened the last section of lace, whirling around to meet his eyes once again.

He held back the urge to lean forward, to finally taste those saccharine lips of yours bathed under the moonlight, to kiss you for reassurance; even though he knew that you did not belong to him...

“Y/N. You know how deeply I favor you. Being a king may have more responsibilities, but that doesn’t mean not spending time with you. Surely that is something I won’t ever miss out on,” the prince professes, ever so sweetly.

“Oh, Leon...” Another warm, genuine smile and a soft chuckle was all you replied with, clutching your loosened dress to cover your semi-exposed chest as you made your way to the master bathroom. “If your desire to spend more time alone with me is true, will you partake in more favors for me?”

“Of course, your grace. Anything.”

You hummed. “Will you light the candles in the bathroom, please? You know I love the ones you gave me.”

Leon scoffed softly, finding your demure request oddly adorable. “As you wish, your grace.”

As he lights a match from your fireplace to transfer to your bathroom, your dress had already pooled around your ankles, completely naked as Leon saunters back and flinched in shock from accidentally averting his eyes on your bare skin. “Your— your grace!” he stammers again, shielding his face away from your direction. “Forgive my eyes, I— I didn’t know you disrobed so quickly— I will be taking my leave—“

“Leon,” you assured, also piqued by how adorable he was. “There’s absolutely no need for that at all. I still require your presence.”

The prince cleared his throat, his head still turned away and eyes fixated onto the wall. “Oh, uh— of course. As long as you are comfortable, I won’t leave your side…”

“Will you look at me when I am speaking as well?”

As much as Prince Leon was flustered from your risqué behavior stemming from nowhere, he couldn’t bring himself to disobey your commands. And though he was of much higher status, being heir to the throne, while you were of a lower rank than him, he always felt rather inclined to serve and satisfy you. When his frantic eyes drifts ever so slowly onto your nude body, the depths of his blood rushed to meet the surface of his cheeks. A slow inhale he took as if he breathed the sight of you in, effortlessly seducing his thoughts…

“What’s the matter?” you spoke, his eyes never leaving the beguiling sight of your body as you dipped your feet in the bathtub.

“Um— nothing, nothing. It’s just… you may have stolen my breath away once again, your grace.”

“Once again?” you teased. “Ah, how could I forget your expression after seeing me in my gown during our tea party in the gardens a week ago...”

With the dandelion colored candlelight dancing off the rippling water, you submerged in the warm bath of rose petals and lavender, the sweet aroma of affection, serenity, and fondness filling the air. Leon was undeniably enticed. As if you wrapped him under a spell with such wanton lust, every soft whisper and every alluring gaze you give each other unleashing a storm of temptation. He felt inclined to feel closer to you as you washed yourself, right beside your grand bathtub, his shadow towering over you.

“Your grace. As honest as I am with you as you are with me... I believe we both know exactly why you require my presence tonight,” he mutters, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

Your eyes widened in utter shock, a facade of panic when deep down you were so close to getting exactly what you’ve wanted. “Leon? Are you— Are you disrobing?”

“Are you planning to make me beg for this? I can’t handle it any longer. And I know you can’t either,” he mutters passionately, lulling your heart from his poetic confession. “Just say the words, my dearest. Tell me what you want.”

Behind those mesmerizing shades in your eyes leave something much more desirable that Leon can sense. Your doe, heated eyes behind the blinds of time, slowly traveling up his chest and bare skin, lips parting like an invitation for him. You tried so hard maintaining your blood thirst that it took every fiber of your being to hold yourself back for years now. It was like a blaring siren overtaking your ears, your chest thundering and pounding erratically, and your gut screaming at you that it was finally time to feast on the man you’ve been keeping your eye on for so long…

“Leon… If we do this, we must—“

“—be discreet, yes. There was nobody around before I entered, your grace. Everybody else had retired to their chambers.”

You stammered on your own words as he undoes the rest of his undergarments, shielding your eyes and turning away as he dips into the rose petal bath. If only he knew your veneer bashfulness towards him, wickedly hypnotizing him with your sultry eyes and mind…

“Your grace. Is this alright with you?” he reassures. “You can, uh… turn around whenever you’re comfortable.”

Ever so slowly you face him, inhaling deeply and sighing softly at the sight of his flesh and body before you. His skin drizzled with drops of water was so beautiful, pale and mysterious, a man that walked straight out of your twisted fairytale. Your hands moved as if it possessed a mind of its own, delicately caressing him and ambling closer to the point he can breathe you in. Just how longer can you bear yourself around him?

“My prince,” you passionately whisper, inclining your neck to take in his warm bright blue eyes and the tingling feeling of his nose brushing against yours.

The bathroom was dimly lit, glinted in darker shades; somber, sultry, and sacred. All air had escaped your lungs, panting heavily and trembling lips parted like an invitation for each other. The gap between you was now inevitably thin. Leon’s hands slide down the slope of your ribs and the curves of your hip, a thrilling shiver coursing in your veins.

“Yes. I can’t begin to explain how much of a… wicked man I am for you,” he murmurs. “You effortlessly bewitch and beguile me. And I must—I must not only tell, but show these strong feelings I have for you. It torments my soul every morning and every night…”

“As does mine, Leon…”

“Tonight, right here in this bath we share… You’re my queen. I live to please and satisfy you, Y/N.”

He dips his head further, pulling you by the neck and settling onto his lips, smiling in between your passionate kiss. Hands wandering the perfect canvas of his skin, he was pressed against the walls of the bathtub as you melted into the kiss. Not only can you taste him, but you can smell his blood so up close, an inferno of passion which was also your tempestuous hell. Your heart became a cauldron, ablaze with yearning and maddening, pulsing blood lust. In a rapturous fervour, your body falls under your unquenched, carnal hunger for him.

“I love you, Y/N,” you hear him murmur. “I love you, I love you, I love you… Let us consume each other right here.”

Consume each other…

Your eyes were forced shut, concealing the wicked change of color in your eyes, emerging into your primal, vampire state. You enchant him with lips grazing against his neck, breathing slowly as his human scent invades you tremendously. He arches his neck with the back of his head resting on the bathtub’s edge, eyes closed in ecstasy from the way you drizzled his body with kisses that were soon to be your markings. Your rapacious desire, your dangerous craving and insatiable taste for blood that no one could ever know, not even the prince himself, has finally risen like the full moon. Terror was now your fine embodiment…

“Oh, Leon… I’ve always wondered what you taste like.”

You finally bared your fangs, its sharpness shining in the light of the moonshine peaking through the windows. Your piercing, cranberry-colored eyes flickered one last time onto Leon’s face like a predator feening on its prey that it just captured. His eyelids began to flutter as he gazed upon the ceiling like he was lost in his own world, somewhat contemplating the words you just spoke of. But as the candelight flickered and the air thickened, you were ready to feed.

“Taste like..?”

With no warning your fangs sink deep into his neck, draining him so harshly as you enthralled in your long-awaited bloodgasm and feral lust. His body beneath you squirmed and writhed, his eyes meeting your predatory, bone-chilling gaze as he was about to scream and shriek from the pain and terror. But you cover his mouth, hissing as he struggled to escape from your grasp until you feel his body going cold, his eyes falling heavy, his heart beating slowly, breath hitching, and his strength staggering. You kept marking him all over his neck and chest, robbing him of his delicious blood that you were sent into a frenzy, intoxicated state. A beautiful bloodgasm.

“Your grace, what— what are you…?” Leon groggily whispers, rendered numb and dazed from how much blood you drained out of him. “Are you— are you gonna kill me?!”

You may have felt a little remorseful for ruining him like this, but after all, this was your mission from the beginning. Nothing but an ardent relationship that arbitrarily developed into something much deeper, where you kept holding back on the days you were dutied to drink him then kill him. You can see the betrayal and longing behind his eyes. The fear staggering in his ribs that you can feel his heart thundering. He was still under your spell, hypnotized and mystified by your seduction, which was why he didn’t react so frantic or hostile. Perhaps he was riveted deep down, stupefied beyond belief of who you really are behind your lovely facade… The poor Prince Leon was a goddamn fool.

“I won’t... If you be obedient for me,” you reassured to him tantalizingly, noticing him quiver as you ran your sharpened lacquered almond nails down his chest.

“So this was your plan all along…? Reveal yourself to me before I’m crowned king?” Leon retaliates weakly. “How were… how were you able to live without… drinking blood?”

“What do you think happened to all our prisoners in the dungeons? All the innocent civilians going missing and found dead from loss of blood,” you smirked, Leon’s blood still draped all over your lips, teeth, and chin. “You should be grateful that you’re the only man I’ve shown mercy to. And with all my markings on your Heavenly body… you may be fatigued from how much I drank, but you’re still alive and useful. For now.”

Leon growled in frustration his nose flaring and his breath hitching, unable to fathom his demise. He still couldn’t move his arms, for all of his limbs remained numb and his strength rendered docile. “Damn you! What— what is it that you really want, Y/N? I know you’re not only thirsting after my blood— I demand an answer!”

“You… you will be my consort as we terrorize this kingdom and its people together, leaving us as the rightful vampire heirs,” you taunted, seizing every nerve in Leon’s modified body. “The night we have our dinner party, our guests will be treated with a special meal— paralyzing them just for us to feed on their blood and celebrate our triumph. The more we feed, the more we become powerful.”

“I— I would never!” the prince retorts, his voice suddenly cracking from his surge of emotions washing over him. “I loved you, Y/N! This wasn’t… this wasn’t the future I wanted with you…”

“That’s such a shame. With the changes going on in your body right now, our bloodlust future together is inevitable. You already belong to me, Prince Leon Kennedy.”

Moonlight washes over his face, eyes wincing from how rapid his heart was thundering in his chest. Every nerve in his body was on high-alert, tearing inside him in such agonizing, razor-sharp pain. In that fleeting moment, with every heavy breath he takes as his body surrenders to this brain-fazing sensation, he was no longer himself. Your daunting words and hypnotism dwells within his skull, corrupting him in vulgar, ravenous ways.

Not one word was spoken as he embraced the roaring pain slashing in his body like acid. He felt enraged. He felt animalistic. He felt thirsty. He felt… plagued by such a forbidden desire, your seduction like grotesque death to him. Corrupted by lust, he is now a dark incarnate. No longer a human. No longer a king.

He was a bloodlusted man that serves his only purpose of pleasuring you.

“I— I belong to you, Your Grace.”

You smiled a wicked smile, catching a glimpse of Leon’s new fangs as he parts his lips for you like an invitation. The innocence, purity, and humanity that would pool behind his beautiful eyes is now ravaged with salacious filth and hunger. His humanity and dignity will now forever remain unobtainable. With the man you loved and favored reborn as one of the most deadliest, sinister creatures to scorch the Earth, you were an indestructible pair…

Leon tossed away his chastity, his honor, his celibacy the moment your lips clashed together, savoring every bit of each other to engrave in your minds. His immoral lust was a feast of flavors that blazed wildly like an untamed flame. A low growl in his throat as he kissed you so hard and rough, wanting you to bite down on his lips with your sharp fangs. Sensations coursed through his body, transferring to your flesh. Water mixed with blood was splashing onto the floor as Leon tried to push you against the wall this time for control, but he your affect rendered the depraved man docile. He couldn’t win over you, no matter how physically capable he was.

“Your— Your grace,” he gasped, looking down at the water as your swollen cunt started grinding against his aching cock. “Please, I need to feel you… I’ve been waiting for so long to experience this ecstasy with you…”

“Oh, my poor prince,” you feigned a pout, planting kisses on neck and behind his earlobe. “Vampires don’t make love. Vampires don’t indulge in intimacy… We only consume. We ravage. Human blood and power is our lustful cravings for eternity, but you, Leon… Your love is the only lethal drug I can inject into my bloodstream to satiate me.”

“I don’t care what I am anymore, Y/N. As a human, as a king, as a vampire, as a dead man… I’ll always be a cruel, withered man crawling back to you with maddening hunger. My lustful craving was always you. You alone satiate me more than anything in this rotten world.”

You had no idea what took over you at that passionate, endearing moment shared with Leon… but everything fell foggy as you were sitting on top of his cock and kissing him at the same time, hearing the water sloshing around as you moved your hips on him with sultry rolls. He felt better than you had fantasized before; pinpricks of electricity and intensity blossoming inside you, hearing him whimper and groan in your ears as he fills you up so good. It was a whirlwind of pleasure and torture, carnality and filth, intimacy and immorality… Your body enthralled in the exquisite affection Leon has been longing for, causing you to betray your heartless nature.

Leon as a newborn didn’t get a chance to drink a human’s blood, but this fervent moment with you was saccharine of all things. Your pussy wrapped around his cock was like coveted treasure, his prized possession, pulsing erratically inside you that he wanted to release. Holding your waist in his large hands, he’d buck his hips and fuck into you as you held onto him. Such filthy, cloying sounds you made as you threw your head back, him holding your waist up and forcing you to take all of it. He adorned you, every inch of your crevice, every part of your wicked, corrupted soul.

Orgasm after orgasm, rippling waves after waves, crying the most beautiful hymn that Leon has ever heard. You’ve never been so defeated and plagued by tenderness, by passion, by several love confessions from Leon. But you were undeniably raptured from how hard you both kept coming and coming in the heat of the moment, clinging onto each other as you made love and recited your vows in the bathtub.

“Such an obedient man you are for me,” you praised. “As my consort in our new kingdom, what else can you do for me?”

Leon, smitten and trapped in a daze by you, no longer possessed humanity. No morality, no rectitude, no virtue. As long as he can thrive off pleasuring you, he will fall to his knees and always be at your command.

“I will kill for you, Your Grace...”

inspired by the bathtub scene from Queen of the Damned (2002) and “Knight of Relaxation” by Naudio on Quinn.

𖤐 TAGS. @crysugu @rinshoe @cran-berry-vodka @daddyzzlittlewhore @kimekioo @strawberrymilk4k @maidenssymphony @willsdollface @zippertwat @strawstfu @migueloharacumslut @maddietries @milestacy @blackhoodlea @bru1sedclavicle @dollicries @hehehehesthings @dvafoxxystrashcan

#🕸️. 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 #leon kennedy #leon x reader #leon x you #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil 4 smut #resident evil 4 leon #re4 smut #re4 leon #vampire!leon kennedy #prince!leon

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acknowledge-reigns · 4 months ago

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Animals | Jacob Fatu x Black!fem OC (SMUT) 18+!!!

Kinktober Day #8: Breeding & Marking

"Baby, I'm preying on you tonight.

Hunt you down eat you alive

Just like animals.

Animals, Like animals-mals..." 🎶

Description: Jacob celebrates his tag title win with his wife

Warnings: Breeding, marking, rough sex, possessiveness (on a healthy level?), somewhat primal, dirty talk, degradation, vaginal sex.

Face claim: Saweetie

MDNI!! 18+ BELOW THE CUT

My masterlist can be found here and my kinktober schedule can be found here.

As always my fics are based in kayfabe, not about real people.

tag list - @mysticreigns2 @queeny23 @jeyusos-girl @notfancyrebelpaper @xbriexx @skyesthebomb @mzv11 @paigereeder @glitterywitchstarlight @v4mp-reads @hunnidmilly

Jacob sat in the bloodline locker room, anxiously awaiting the arrival of his wife, Arielle. He had just won his first championship in WWE and was eager to celebrate with her. She had flown in just for his championship match.

As he paced back and forth, the door swung open and Arielle walked in, a smile on her face. "Congrats, babe," she said, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. "I'm so proud of you."

Jacob and Arielle had been together for a little over five years, initially she was just his hairstylist. Nights and nights of sitting up just the two of them laughing and bonding while she did his retwist brought on feelings neither of them could ignore.

the amount of times she'd pop his hand with her comb and scold him for his inability to stay still made her feel like she was turning into her grandmama. No one knew how to work her last nerve like Jacob Fatu.

And coincidentally, no one had ever given her butterflies like Jacob Fatu. His laugh was contagious. His genuine personality. He'd swept her off her feet. The way his goofy ass had insisted on telling people that in this story the little mermaid falls for the big bad wolf, not the prince. This of course being a play on her name being Arielle and his gimmick being the Samoan werewolf.

Jacob spent the last 5+ years grinding and putting in blood, sweat and tears on the Indies to support her and their growing family, they had two children, Kirsten (4) and Samuel (2) whom Arielle had sent off with her parents for the weekend so that she and Jacob could have their moment to celebrate. The struggle was over.

Jacob pulled her close, breathing in her scent. "Thank you, baby," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Arielle looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "So, what are we going to do to celebrate?" she asked.

Jacob grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I have something in mind," he said, his voice low and seductive. "But I think we should go back to the hotel first."

Arielle raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Lead the way," she said, a playful smile on her lips.

Once they arrived at the hotel, Jacob quickly pulled Arielle into the room and closed the door behind them. He pinned her against the wall, his body pressing against hers.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he growled.

Jacob's hands roamed over Arielle's body, his touch possessive and hungry. He nipped at her earlobe, his breath hot against her skin. "You're mine, and I'm going to make sure everyone knows it," he whispered, his voice low and husky.

Arielle moaned as Jacob's lips moved down to her collarbone. "I'm all yours, Jacob," she said, her voice breathless. "I've always been yours."

Jacob pulled back slightly, his eyes burning with desire. "Good," he said, his hands sliding down to her hips. "... 'Cause I'm bout to mark you as mine tonight."

He picked her up and carried her over to the bed, laying her down gently before crawling on top of her.

Jacob hovered over Arielle, his eyes roaming over her body. He could feel the heat building between them, the primal urge to claim her as his own growing stronger with every passing second.

He leaned down and captured her lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue demanding entrance. Arielle moaned into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

Jacob broke the kiss and began trailing kisses down her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin. "I'm going to leave marks all over your body," he growled. "So that everyone knows you belong to me."

Arielle gasped as Jacob's teeth grazed her skin, the sharp sting sending a thrill through her body. "Yes," she moaned, arching her back. "Mark me, Jacob. I want everyone to know who I belong to..."

Jacob growled low in his throat, his hands roaming over her body possessively. He nipped and sucked at her skin, leaving a trail of purple-ish red marks in his wake.

He moved down to her breasts, taking one of her nipples into his mouth and biting down gently. Arielle cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair as he worked his way down her body.

Jacob positioned himself between Arielle's legs, his eyes locked on hers. "Ready for me to breed this lil pussy again, baby? " he said, his voice low and seductive.

He thrust into her hard, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. Arielle gasped, her nails digging into his back as she adjusted to his size.

Jacob began to move, his thrusts rough and possessive. He pounded into her relentlessly, his eyes burning with desire. "Mine," he growled, his hands gripping her hips tightly. "Mine to fuck. Mine to mark. Mine to breed."

Arielle's moans filled the room, her body arching up to meet Jacob's every thrust. She could feel his primal desire, his need to claim her as his own, and it only served to turn her on even more.

"Harder," she gasped, her nails digging deeper into his back.

Jacob grunted, his pace quickening as he gave her exactly what she wanted. He drove into her with brutal force, his signature crazy eyes flashing with dominance.

"You like that, don't you?" he growled. "You like it when when I breed you like a lil bitch in heat.... Gonna knock you up again. Gotta grow the bloodline, babygirl."

Arielle's body tensed, her muscles clenching around Jacob's cock as he continued to pound into her. "Please," she gasped, her voice desperate. "Please, breed me, Jacob. I need it."

Jacob's thrusts became even more frantic, his movements becoming erratic as he felt his own release approaching.

"I'm going to come," Jacob growled, his body tensing. "I'm going to fill you up with my cum and breed you so good."

Arielle cried out, her body convulsing as she reached her own climax. "Yes!" she screamed, her back arching off the bed. "Yes, Jacob, breed me! Give me your cum!"

Jacob let out a guttural cry as he finally reached his peak, his hips jerking as he emptied himself inside her. He collapsed on top of her, his body slick with sweat as he panted for breath.

Jacob lay on top of Arielle, his body spent but satisfied. He nuzzled her neck, breathing in her scent as he tried to catch his breath.

"You did so well, baby," he murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion. Jacob slowly pulled out of Arielle, wincing slightly at the loss of contact. He looked down at her, a possessive gleam in his eyes.

"Let me clean you up," he said, his voice low and gentle. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a towel, then began to wipe her down gently, making sure to be extra careful with her sensitive areas.

Once he was finished cleaning her up, Jacob tossed the towel aside and lay down beside her, pulling her into his arms. He stroked her hair gently, his touch soothing and comforting.

"You did so well," he repeated, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You were such a good girl for your alpha." he stated, their honorific being 'Alpha' of course another play on the whole werewolf thing. As an avid romance reader, Arielle loved every bit of it.

Arielle snuggled into Jacob's chest, feeling safe and content in his arms. "I love you," she murmured, her voice soft and sleepy.

Jacob tightened his arms around her, holding her close. "I love you too, baby," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "You're mine forever, and I'll always take care of you."

#jacob fatu #Jacob Fatu smut #Jacob Fatu x black oc #the samoan werewolf #Spotify #bloodline fanfiction

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mollymauksboi · 6 days ago

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୧ ‧₊˚🍂⋅ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ's ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ

This fic is dedicated to my incredibly talented friend and fellow artist, @starrforge. I had so much fun writing Halsin for Adhara, I hope you enjoy it lovely! (If you ever want me to write anything else for you please feel free to send me requests! ♡)

Word count: 2,845

(NSFW, 18+ MINORS DNI.)

Warnings: Hickeys, fingering, pussy eating, p in v sex, creampie, mating season

For so long, all that had occupied Halsin’s mind was the shadow curse, even during his time in the grove being the archdruid, the weight of his past mistakes was a heavy burden that he carried with him for all those years. There was a point in time where the man almost wasn’t sure if he could fix things at all, and perhaps he wouldn’t have been able to if it was not for one person in particular. a stunning young elf that had rescued him from his fate in the warg pens after his capture. Halsin had thought that might have been his demise at one point, he could take on quite a lot in battle, but not a whole camp of goblins.

Adhara and her group of infected travelers had been his saving grace back then, aiding him without question, saving the tiefling refugees. That was the moment Halsin knew he could rely on Adhara and her companions, they needed to get to the heart of the cult, he needed to get to the shadow cursed lands- traveling together would be the best course of action. There had been many trials throughout the coming weeks, the Gith Creche had been a challenge in itself, Halsin had seen the way it had taken a toll on Adhara after. He had wanted to talk, to reassure the sorceress that she had done well, but the woman would have none of it.

She was frustrated that she was pushed around so much, dismissed for being so small, for being so kind. The two ended up having a bit of an argument over this, which had left Halsin feeling quite guilty. He knew that they had a bit of a rocky relationship then, but the druid time and time again proved his loyalty and kindness to Adhara and the others. When they had gotten into the shadow cursed lands, Halsin’s anxiety rose ten fold as did his guilt. He was seeing the destruction and carnage that had been caused and it shattered his heart into a million tiny pieces.

Adhara’s kindness was once again proven when she had selflessly helped him locate Thaniel, had been worried about him just as much as Halsin had been all while she was trying to get through safely to Moonrise Tower. Watching how the storm sorceress fought when it came time had been something Halsin did not think he would have the honor to witness and gods above she was good. So much had happened in just a few months, and every day he could feel himself growing closer to Adhara. Now that the shadow curse had finally been lifted he was free to explore life a little more.

It had been some time since he was able to have any sort of companionship, and although at first Adhara was not fond of him, with their nights spent by the fire talking, comforting one another and laughing together, the archdruid could feel that spark ignite into a flame within him. Perhaps a bit stronger than it should have, considering by now it was Spring- the one time Halsin was not a fan of. Spring meant it was mating season for the bears, and he could feel it even now, that familiar aching in his trousers. Halsin had always been rather good at ignoring his more primal urges, but sitting near the woman he fancied made it incredibly hard to resist her…

Sitting next to the sorceress while the others had gone off to do their own thing for the night left Halsin to his own devices. Now was as good a time as any to confess, he only hoped those feelings may be returned, though even if they were not, he would understand. “You know… i never truly realized how burdened I was, until I met you..” He began albeit a little hesitant at first. “The politics at the grove, the threat of the shadow curse.. I had nearly forgotten who I was.. But you lifted the fog.. Thank you, Adhara.” the man gave her a gentle smile, watching the way her bicoloured eyes lit up with both intrigue and that same compassion he had seen with others. “Of course, you are most welcome, Halsin”

Gods above and below, the way she said his name… He loved it, of course he always had, but right now, it was like the sweetest of melodies, the only thing that could sound better would be her cries of ecstasy when he… Halsin stopped himself, this was not the time to think those horny thoughts. He had to make sure she wanted that before he let his imagination run wild. “I have lived a very long life… Taking on many lovers, my heart does not stir lightly. But it does now, because of you.” Halsin could see the slight flicker of confusion behind her eyes as she asked what he had meant, and a soft chuckle left his lips. “It means I want more than to fight at your side or sit around the campfire with you.”

He paused, watching carefully for any sign of discomfort but when there was none, he knew it was safe to continue. “I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine.. If you will have me.” There was another slight pause “If you do not feel the same, tell me so and I will let the matter rest. I do not wish to sour our friendship, but I have to know if it can be something more” Adhara’s cheeks flushed from the confession, her skin blossoming with an adorable pink tink “I.. I want you too. But…” Halsin watched as she paused, growing shy, he could sense her unease and he placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder “You are inexperienced, do not worry. I do not mind teaching you.”

“When the others are sleeping, we will slip away together, but I can assure you, we won’t get much sleep~” He winked, chuckling as he watched that pretty little blush darken before she stammered out a sheepish response and scurried away. Now that he had his confirmation, Halsin slinked off to his tent for a while and let his mind wander. What would Adhara taste like? What would she sound like? He knew her scent well, but the smell of her arousal would be another thing that would drive him wild, he just hoped he could contain himself tonight- the druid did not want to scare her away or harm her if he lost control while mating with her.

An hour or so passed before Halsin emerged from his tent to see nobody was up anymore, and found the storm sorceress standing nearby, causing him to smirk, the aching in his cock growing harder to ignore. Leading Adhara a decent distance away from their camp and into the forest, he hummed softly, leaning her back against a tree, towering over her tiny form. Gods he loved the height difference, he was sure he might break her if he wasn’t careful. “I promise I will be as gentle as I can be, but I must warn you… Sometimes if I let myself get too excited, I cannot control the wild shape… it gets harder around this time too, as it is the mating season for bears.”

Leaning down, Halsin’s breath mingled with Adhara's, her eyes already half closed, though he could still sense her nervousness. “May I kiss you before we begin, my heart..?” The elf nodded and halsin very gently pressed his lips to hers. They were soft and plump, everything he imagined they would be. He pressed his body against hers, pinning her to the tree, groaning against her lips as he began to grind his hardening cock against her, kissing the woman deeper. After a minute, Halsin pulled away and began to nip at her neck, listening to the gentle whimpers and whines that fell from her lips, her hands gripping his muscular arms tightly as he sucked a decent sized hickey into her skin- it would be hard to hide such a mark, but Halsin did not care. He liked marking what was his.

His fingers slipped under her tunic, silently asking permission to undress her, and after a moment, Adhara nodded. Slowly, the druid removed each article of clothing from her body until she was bare for him, and he kneeled before her, pressing affectionate kisses to her stomach and thighs, thumbs gently tracing over her beautiful scales. “You are so beautiful.. Just as nature intended..” Looking down, he could see the way she trembled with nervous anticipation, the scent of her arousal finally hitting him and for a moment his eyes flashed golden and a deep growl left his lips. He chuckled softly, gently parting her legs so that he could see her better.

“I’m going to devour you…” Halsin could not hold back any longer, his head dipped between her thighs, tongue dragging across her slit before teasingly flicking over her sensitive little bud; ears twitching and perking up when he heard the noise he had been wanting to pull from her. A soft, quiet moan. His cock jumped within their confines, but he remained patient. Halsin was going to make her cum before he even thought about getting himself off inside her. “This may hurt a little my darling, I am… More well endowed than any man I have seen before” Halsin gently guided Adhara to lay on her back within the soft grass, stripping for her- his erection free and standing at attention for her, the sight alone was enough to make her eyes go wide.

Halsin placed himself between her legs dipping his head between her thighs once again, two fingers circling her clit with a little pressure, not too much but enough to pleasure her, while his tongue delved inside her core, lapping up her sweet nectar, feeling the way her walls trembled and clenched around his wiggling appendage. “Let yourself go, cub. I want to watch you come undone for me…” Halsin hummed, removing his fingers from her, wetting one with his saliva before probing at her entrance, his one finger was already quite thick, he’d need to prepare her to be able to take him. “Relax, and if it hurts too much, I will stop.” Halsin began to very slowly insert his finger, leaning down to suck and lick at her clit to soothe any pain and turn it into pleasure- his eyes flashing between their usual brown and their golden hue as he struggled to remain in control.

“Such a good girl Adhara… Taking my finger so well… Hells…” Halsin growled, bearing his fangs a little, the instinct to push her down and bury himself to the hilt before railing her all night long was hard to ignore, the longer he ignored his primal urges the more feral he became. And gods, those whines and whimpers and moans she was giving him did not help either.. “There we go.. You did so well” Halsin praised her, finally having slipped his finger inside her completely. He gave her a few moments to adjust to the stretch before he began to slowly thrust it in and out of her, watching the way her eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open so delightfully. “Fuck…” halsin panted, cock twitching and dripping precum into the grass.

The way Adhara’s face twisted with pain and pleasure had Halsin’s heart beating like a jackrabbit against his chest, she was so beautiful like this. “I’m going to insert a second finger now, little one.” The sorceress gave a slight nod and Halsin pulled his fingers out, lubricating them once again with his saliva and her slick. The druid slowly and carefully pushed his fingers into her core once again, alternating between nipping and sucking hickeys into her thighs and lapping at her clit to pleasure her. He could feel the way her core spasmed around his thick digits and his fingers twitched within her, itching to fuck them into her until she was screaming.

“You are so perfect Adhara…” Halsin curled his fingers inside her, fingertips brushing against that special spot within her that made Adhara’s back arch off the ground, her hands flew to his hair, taking a fistfull of it. That was his undoing. A moan left his lips, and he began to finger her faster now. He was gentle of course, but he was beginning to lose himself in the pleasure of watching Adhara lose her mind. The woman was writhing beneath him, moaning and panting with flushed cheeks and half lidded eyes. “That’s it my love… Lose yourself, cum for me..” The command was enough for Adhara to come undone, she cried out his name and came around his fingers.

Growling, Halsin fingered her through her orgasm and when she was thoroughly pleasured he pulled out his fingers, licking up her nectar. His eyes never left Adhara’s trembling form, gently kissing along her body to ease her, allowing the woman to catch her breath before he continued “Such a good girl Adhara… Are you ready for more?” He asked softly. “Y-yes…” Her sheepish voice came out quiet, but sure of herself. Halsin kissed along her neck, inhaling her gentle scent for a moment before lifting her smaller frame into his lap. “Then you shall take all of me~” The druid used his free hand to spread his precum along his shaft, shuddering a little as he positioned Adhara over him.

Groaning loudly, Halsin pushed himself carefully inside her core, biting into her shoulder a little as he felt her heat wrap tightly around him. Adhara’s cries filled the air around him as he took complete control, her legs over his arms with hers wrapped around his neck. “Keep your eyes on me, my heart. I will take good care of you” Adhara nodded and Halsin carefully pushed himself inside of her inch by inch, his eyes glowing that beautiful golden colour. “Good gods… You feel so good wrapped around me…” Halsin groaned, a growl leaving his lips. Adhara’s walls fluttered around his cock the further in he pushed, whimpering in delight at the sensations that coursed through her, alighting every nerve ending on fire until he was fully seated within her, the head of his cock so deep inside that it was kissing the entrance to her womb.

Halsin angled his hips a little, thrusting in and out of her. The lewd sound of skin against skin surrounded them, his pointed ears twitching in delight as Adhara’s moaning grew louder and louder. Before she even announced it, Halsin could feel the way her walls tightened and fluttered around him. She felt so damn good, he was losing his own ability to think straight, the only thing on his mind was the need to breed her. “H-Halsin… G-gonna cum soon-” The druid gave a wicked grin, thrusting faster and deeper “Good girl, taking my cock so well… I’m going to fill you so full of my seed you’ll have my cubs in no time~”

His teeth gently sank into her neck once again, sucking at her delicate skin as he thrust into her at an almost brutal pace, losing control- the need to mate with Adhara taking over. Halsin could feel his climax rapidly approaching, groaning against the woman's neck “Cum for me, Adhara…” He commanded, thrusting furiously into her, feeling her tense. His eyes never left the way her face contorted with pleasure, her mouth hanging open in an attractive little ‘o’ shape, her stunning voice calling out his name as she came hard around him.

That was his tipping point, Halsin’s hips stuttered, thrusts growing sloppy as his seed splashed against her womb. Halsin shuddered, keeping her sat in his lap and watching the way his cum slowly dripped from her; he had filled her well. “I love you, my heart” Halsin smiled softly, pulling the woman in for a gentle kiss, rubbing her hips with his thumbs to soothe her. The poor thing would likely be quite sore come morning, but he would take good care of her. Halsin pulled out of her after a few minutes, allowing her to rest against his chest, stroking her hair and tucking a few strands behind her ear. His arms gently wrapped around the woman as he kissed her head. “Rest now, my love. You deserve it”

Halsin had taken many lovers over the years, he had many trysts. But never in his long life had he ever felt so complete. Never in his life had he felt so loved by another being. His gaze shifted towards the twinkling stars above them as he felt Adhara’s breathing even out and she fell asleep comfortably against his chest. A small smile graced his lips, and he silently sent his thanks to Silvanus for blessing him with this woman.

This had truly been the most perfect evening, all because of one special woman that had stolen his heart.

#tav #halsin #oc x canon #silvanus #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 halsin #high elf #storm sorcerer #druid #archdruid #romance #smut #mating season #readers first time

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elect1z · 2 months ago

Note

Hello! I have a tf2 request for you if you like.

GNC Tenth Class reader, with any Mercs you would like. Romantic or platonic, whichever you want.

Matches have been going the same as usual over the last week, though Reader has been acting just a bit stranger each time they Respawn. Their appetite grows bigger, their senses grow stronger, and small little things keep changing about their body.

Their hunger grows stronger and stronger, forcing a very confused and scared reader to lock themself into their room, hoping the urges go away. Whoever comes to get them is in for a bit surprise.

(tldr, Reader has been either turned into a vampire/werewolf, or something is going on with the Respawn Machine. Feel free to make this sexy if you like!)

Sniper x Vampire!Reader cw: Blood, Dead animal, and bad writing

⚡︎ Everything has been normal like usual. The matches for the past few weeks have been good.. But there is something wrong lately. ⚡︎ Every time you respawn, you feel a change to you and your body.. ⚡︎ You notice that your body has slightly evolved, and so has your appetite. You are hungrier than ever, but nothing seems to satisfy you every time you eat. Your body has grown a little stronger too. ⚡︎ Now, you seem to get a pretty bad sunburn on every match. Other mercs notice your sudden change of behavior too, especially Sniper. ⚡︎ After a while, you start to drool whenever you see blood on the match, the voices inside your head telling you to do something... The urge is getting stronger. Something is definitely wrong with you ⚡︎ You decided to isolate yourself in your room, to keep yourself sane from your loud ringing thoughts... Sniper is concerned about you at that time and decided to check up on you Oh boy, he never expected this would come to him ------ "Roo, You haven't left your room in two days. Are you alri-" As he enters your room, He sees you on the floor, your back facing him, and your hands seem to hold something alive with a liquid dripping down on it... Is that blood..? One of the floors of your room is covered with said liquid and so does your hands. The horrifying scene that flashed right at him was you eating one of the Medic's pigeons.. "Bloody hell.. " You turned your head and realized he had witnessed your doing, you tried to explain to him. "S-Sniper! I..." You can't explain to him, you really can't. His face already turned into disgust, and he already covered his mouth from the stench of the dead animal. "What the fuck is wrong with you!" He was already backing away closing the door. In an instant you grabbed his leg and dragged him inside, locking the door. He kept struggling in your grasp trying to escape from it. But you're too strong and put him on hold, with you behind him and your legs locking his waist. He kept making noises, and it ended up with you shutting his mouth with your hands. With you saw him, the voices inside you kept getting louder as your face was inches away from his neck. He could smell the iron coming from your bloody hands. The stench of the dead pigeon still lingers in the room making him disgusted. "As much as I like you, Sniper. I couldn't help but to try shut those, loud voices" You let go of his mouth and grab his face positioning him and pulling his collar down where the the neck is more visible and accessible. "I'm sorry for this..." "What are yo-!" In a matter of seconds, you dug your fangs into his neck, and his own blood dripped on it. He screamed, the pain hitting him like a bullet. The taste of his delightful blood kept getting stronger as you dug your fangs further. Making him grunt loudly. After a while, his grunt became more and more less. With you feasting and not caring about the world. He knew that he would either pass out or die of blood loss. Another minute had passed and the grunting had really stopped, Making you snap out of your dream and come back to the real world. You stopped immediately and pushed him away from you. After checking his pulse, you are glad that he is still alive, turns out he just passed out. Wiping the blood on your mouth, you look at your hands and the mess that you made, Sighing to yourself you decide to clean what you did. You carried Sniper to his camper van and put him on the bed. While the dead pigeon.. you buried it somewhere safe, Thankfully it was nighttime and no one saw you. You cleaned up the blood on your floor with Luminol and cleaned yourself after that. After all of that, you went to sleep. But you couldn't help but think of the blood you feasted on Sniper. God, it was the best thing other than a pigeon's blood. Maybe one day, You could enjoy all of the blood you wanted...

A/N: DUDE I FORGOT TO PUT THE KEEP READING THING 😭

#mine #Tf2 x reader #tf2 x reader #Sniper x reader #Mick Mundy x reader #Sniper x Vampire!Reader #Writing #Fanfiction #Sniper tf2 #tf2 sniper #Vampire!Reader #►electriz works!

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romione-trope-fest · 11 months ago

Text

Sleep Hexed

Title: Sleep Hexed

Author: cheesyficwriter

Selected Trope: Only One Bed

Brief Summary: A No Voldemort tale featuring two idiots in love who don’t quite know it yet. Post-Hogwarts years.

Rating: T

Word Count (if applicable): 3,738

Trigger Warnings: N/A

---

Chapter One

Sleep.

Interesting, isn’t it?

All humans need to have the energy to go about their daily lives. Although sleep is unavoidable, the task can become significantly compromised at any moment.

For Hermione? Sleep has always seemed so simple, yet it causes her much more grief than she cares to admit.

It’s midday during an impossible season of trials at the Ministry, and she can’t focus on the work that needs to be done simply because she tossed and turned all night long. Instead of her brain deciding that she needed proper rest before a full day of work, Hermione found herself laying awake for the fifth straight night in a row.

Why can’t she sleep when it feels like she’s tried everything in the books to help her? Hermione always maintains proper hygiene, avoids caffeine as much as possible, performs a nightly Atmospheric Charm to keep her bedroom at an ideal temperature, and even has a set bedtime—no matter how often she has to remind Ron and Harry that the use of her Floo after ten in the evening should only be for emergencies!

Although the cafeteria is bustling with energy during the busy Ministry lunch hour, Hermione’s only point of focus is to mentally strategize ways to get at least an hour of shut eye tonight. Yet she nudges the food around on her plate with her fork, lacking any appetite to eat.

Her legs are restless beneath the table as she fights the urge to bounce her knee in a jerky rhythm. Ron slides into the empty seat across from her, kinking an eyebrow in her direction as the table shakes from her incessant knee movement. He opens his mouth as if he wants to address it, but says nothing. Hermione bites her lip to hold back a yawn, her eyelids drooping of their own volition.

“Ron!” Harry plops into the open chair next to Hermione without warning, his eyes bright. She jumps as his lunch tray clatters onto the table. “Mate, that match last night—”

“Was fucking brilliant!”

The two boys fall into a natural conversation, allowing Hermione’s thoughts to drift to topics that don’t involve her. She takes a long sip of her water, hoping the sensation will keep her engaged long enough to excuse herself to the loo without appearing suspicious.

Harry and Ron discuss Quidditch stats for the next five minutes, but her red-headed best friend steals glances her way every so often. A throbbing headache beneath Hermione’s temples grows stronger and stronger with the excessive noise in the room. As she reaches for her glass of water again, her hand collides with the rim and tips the clear liquid onto the table.

“Bugger!” Hermione withdraws her wand and mutters a quick Scourgify, but nothing happens. She inwardly groans, agitated over her inability to even hold her wand with a steady enough hand.

Unfortunately, she isn’t the only one who notices. Ron frowns and stops speaking mid-sentence, studying her movements with sudden interest. “What was that?”

“What do you mean?"

"You. With your wand, just now.” He nods at the 10 and ¾ inch of vinewood dangling loosely between her fingers. “You fumbled a simple spell.”

Hermione scoffs at the critique. “Thanks, Ron.”

“No! It’s just—” He blunders, gesturing towards her face. “I mean it’s you. You’re brilliant. Are you feeling okay?”

“I feel a bit off today. That’s all.” The retort snaps out of her mouth all too quickly. “Maybe I’ll leave early to get some rest.”

“Leave early?” Ron snorts, leaning back in his chair. “You mean actually leave on time with the rest of us for once?”

Hermione rolls her eyes but clamps her mouth shut. It’s baffling how he manages to keep track of her work hours when he’s usually the one cutting out early. But she’s certainly not going to tell him that.

Ron sighs, propping his elbows on the table as he leans forward. A whiff of sandalwood hits Hermione’s nose, and she struggles to find a way to hold her own underneath the intensity of his gaze.

The growing lump in her throat is too difficult to swallow down, so instead she averts her eyes while mulling over a way to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Are you getting enough sleep, Hermione?”

He’s so dangerously close, it’s unnerving. Can he spot the dark circles around her eyes? She’s tried so hard to conceal them with magic this week. Hermione blinks as she fights off another yawn. In a curt tone, she responds, “I’m getting sleep, yes."

Hermione omits the max one hour a night part, but still.

Both of Ron’s index fingers shoot out from the fists propping his chin up. "Your spell must be wearing off. These weren’t there earlier.”

He’s pointing right at her eyes. Oh Merlin.

The implication of Ron’s words rings loud and clear. But Hermione is determined to remain Silencio regarding her sleep cycle. She just needs time to sort out what to do with her dilemma.

“You’re still coming to our party at Grimmauld Place tonight, right?” Harry asks through a mouthful of pea soup, cutting in like he hasn’t been listening to their conversation, even though it’s obvious that he has. It’s so like him to want to maintain the peace. “Gin will hex you if you don’t.”

It kind of feels like I’ve already been hexed.

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to see how the rest of the afternoon goes.”

Ron tuts, clearly not happy with her answer. “What are you on about? You have to come!”

“I don’t think I have to do anything, Ron.” Her scathing reply comes out much snappier than she intends. She can tell her mood is starting to swing in the wrong direction, and she needs to put a stop to it before her friends pry any further. “Look, I’ll try my best to make it. I’ve got to get back to work.”

As she stands up with her tray, Ron mutters under his breath, “Got to get some sleep is more like it.”

He’s right. Of course he’s right, and that’s what’s so frustrating.

Hermione ignores his comment and starts on her brisk walk towards the Floo, as fast as her legs can carry her. She’s got a stack of files on her desk at home. Maybe taking a half day and tending to those would be a sufficient amount of work for the day. Kingsley will understand, and she’ll make sure to send him notice as soon as she arrives at her flat.

Although not certain she’ll have the energy to even make it to the gilded fireplaces, Hermione has to try. There’s a good chance that she might give in to her fatigue before she is even out of view from her two best friends. And she certainly doesn’t want to be caught drooling all over the papers on her desk in the Law Enforcement department if Ron pops in to check on her.

A part of her still believes it’s useless to go home right now—with the intention of getting some rest��when there is so much work to be done. She already knows that as soon as she crawls into bed, she’ll be wide awake again.

–

It’s no surprise that Hermione ends up at Harry and Ginny’s party, after all.

Even though Ron had sent an Owl to persuade her to attend—five times, to be exact—it’s still a decision that she made on her own.

After giving it much thought, instead of getting her desperately desired sleep, it occurred to Hermione that exhausting herself at a large gathering might be exactly what she needs to fall into a snooze-filled dream tonight.

So here she is. Along with every other witch and wizard from her year at Hogwarts, apparently. It didn’t occur to her that this would be a class reunion. Harry really does like to embellish when he insists that “it’ll just be a small gathering with a few friends” but there’s no turning back now.

Music surges over the boisterous conversation as Hermione steps out of the Floo, and the atmosphere is immediately electric. The party is in full swing as she squeezes her way through the sweaty bodies of many familiar faces who greet her upon arrival.

Luna is twirling underneath the large overhead chandelier in the center of the entryway. The twins are giving out free demonstrations of their joke products to individuals who are none the wiser. Ginny is already the life of the party, stumbling around and singing off-key to a Celestina Warbeck classic.

The air is hot and sticky, clearly evidenced by the prickle of sweat developing on Hermione’s forehead. It’s quickly apparent that even with so many partygoers pressing in all around her, she still feels alone, as ridiculous as that sounds.

At least until Ron appears out of nowhere, as if he’s just apparated straight into the middle of the drawing room. It’s a possibility, but it would be an impressive feat for someone holding two drinks in his hand. He thrusts one cup in Hermione’s direction.

Her nose wrinkles as she catches a strong whiff of cheap whiskey. “What is this?”

“It’s a drink,” he yells over the music, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You look like you need one more than anyone else here.”

She knows exactly what he means without needing to go into more detail. Loosen up, Hermione. You’re too proper.

A heavy sigh leaves Hermione’s lips, but she takes the drink he offers. “Thanks. Great party.”

Ron cups a hand around his ear, leaning closer. “What did you say?"

"Nevermind,” she shouts, just as her gaze falls on a man standing across the room, waving both hands in their direction. “I think Dean is looking for you.”

He follows Hermione’s point, snorting when he spots Dean and Seamus gesturing to the pyramid display of flipped over plastic drinkware set for another round of the wildly popular House Cup. Before jetting off, Ron’s fingers close over her arm. “Will you stay?”

The urgency displayed in his eyes warms Hermione’s cheeks. She falters, but agrees. “I’ll stay.”

Making such a promise turns out to be a hard one to keep. Apart from frequent check-ins by Ron, she keeps to herself. While her time at Hogwarts was great—fantastic, really—the best memories she has are with Ron and Harry, navigating their classes and gorging themselves on monthly Hogsmeade trips.

Many of her classmates once spread rumors that she was in a love triangle with Ron and Harry. It was absolutely absurd! None of them had ever crossed that line. Can’t men and women be just friends without any romance brewing? She was there for Harry as he sorted out his feelings for Ginny and helped him come up with a solid plan to tell Ron, which turned out to be not so solid, but Ron got over it eventually. The boys were also there for her when she got her heart broken by Viktor Krum—well, more so Harry. Although Ron used to worship the Bulgarian Seeker, he is always in a foul mood nowadays whenever the subject of Viktor is broached. That particular period of Hermione’s life is now hidden away in the Forbidden Forest of conversational topics.

Throw Lavender Brown in that forest too, but no need to go into detail there.

Regardless of her close friendship with Ron and Harry, she’s now surrounded by many people who have better relationships with the boys than anyone else ever did with her.

Is that Hermione’s fault? Did she not socialize enough at school? Sure, she took her studies seriously and spent more time in the library than on the Quidditch pitch, but Ron and Harry did their part to remind her to take breaks long enough to have some fun from time to time.

The thought consumes her, enough to crave more breathing space. Hermione scans the olive green walls that seem to be caving in on her, looking for an escape. She locates the grand staircase at the end of the hall, which spurs a new idea. Of course! Harry recently converted one of the bedrooms upstairs into a library. She’ll take a short perusal through the stacks and then return to the party afterward, refreshed and ready to mingle.

Once she navigates through her schoolmates and reaches the landing at the top of the stairs, her attention goes over the banister to the people down below. Hermione catches a flash of ginger hair in the entrance hall and meets Ron’s gaze. His brows furrow as she ascends the stairs, as if he has been keeping his eye on her the whole time.

Oh well. He can follow me if he wants.

Hermione continues on her path until she reaches the library, jiggling the rusty doorknob until it creaks open. The darkly-lit room has a faint, musty scent of wood, and she could sneeze from the amount of dust clouding the air. Harry really needs to tidy up the place.

Yet she could still spend hours in this dark corner, looking for hidden treasures or important insights. Harry’s bookshelf, she soon discovers, leaves much to be desired. It’s mostly filled with miscellaneous titles, such as Charm Your Own Cheese, and a stack of old periodicals, like the Sunday Prophet and Which Broomstick. The real eyebrow raiser though has to be his copy of 12 Fail Safe Ways to Charm Witches. Was that one a Ginny purchase?

And not a single one of their textbooks from school!

“Don’t tell me you’re going to hide out here all night.”

Hermione grins despite the disruption, knowing that Ron would follow her. His curiosity always wins in the end. After setting one of the books back onto the shelf, she turns to find him leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

Taking a step forward, she goads, “I didn’t realize I needed a security guard to keep a watchful eye over me.”

Ron’s eyes twinkle. “Did you just label me as a security guard? That’s a bit insulting.”

“Says the Auror with a massive ego—which proves my point, honestly.”

It’s amazing how their banter is doing wonders to re-energize her. Getting into a compelling argument is the only strategy that really works to keep her mind off her present situation. And for that, Ron is the best partner.

“And furthermore,” she continues before he has a chance to contend her claim, “it’s clear that you managed to lose your game of House Cup, seeing as how you have nothing better to do than to visit me in a library—of all places to find the likes of Ron Weasley!”

Ron’s eyes narrow as he takes a slow step in her direction. “Why are you picking a fight right now?”

“I’m not.”

I am.

“You are, and it usually means you are avoiding something.”

All these years of knowing Ron Weasley, and she had somehow forgotten how well Ron Weasley knows her.

“Are you deflecting?” He continues, not loosening up on his interrogation tactics. “Is this still about our conversation from earlier? Please tell me you at least got some rest when you went home.”

“Rest, maybe. Actual sleep, definitely not.”

His lips press into a firm, thin line. She hates when he gets concerned. Ron is so fussy and determined and stubborn. The minute he sniffs out a problem with her, he gets all bent out of shape until he solves it.

“Have you taken any Dreamless Sleep? I don’t recommend extended use of that stuff, but if you need something to give you a little push—”

Hermione holds back the urge to roll her eyes, not interested in hearing a list of solutions that she’s already worked through herself. “Tried it. Didn’t work.”

“How about seeing a Healer at St. Mungo’s?”

After two days of minimal to no sleep, it was the first place she went. “They say I’m perfectly healthy and there are no physical indicators as to why I’m not sleeping.”

“Well, have you tried counting Hippogriffs?”

Hermione’s forehead crinkles at the absurdity of his suggestion. “What?”

“You know, as the saying goes?” Ron waves a flippant hand. “Don’t Muggles count to one hundred in their head using some sort of quantifier? Like Chocolate Frogs?”

“It’s sheep, actually.” Hermione covers her mouth, stifling a giggle.

“Even better!” Ron gives an exaggerated head roll when she doesn’t react. "Well, I think it would be fun.”

She really can’t think of something she’d rather do less, honestly. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Ron taps his chin, giving this unauthorized role of being her Healer for the day a considerable amount of thought. “Have you tried keeping your room dark and cool?”

“Always.”

“Ear plugs?”

“It’s almost too quiet.”

“White noise charm in your room?”

“Doesn’t work.”

Ron’s shoulders sag as he slumps back against the wall, blowing out a steady stream of air that removes a stray ginger curl out of his eyes. “Of course you’ve bloody tried everything.”

Hermione releases a frustrated groan before sprawling herself out on the black velvet chaise in the corner of the room. Ron follows her, nudging her boots hanging off the edge of the furniture.

“Budge up.”

“Fine,” Hermione grumbles, lifting her legs up long enough for Ron to slide in. He lowers her legs down over his lap.

“Well, you just recently transferred from Care of Magical Creatures to the Law Enforcement Department.” He squeezes her ankles in a supportive manner. “Give yourself some time to sort it all out. You’re probably just in your head too much.”

The longer Hermione goes without so much as a power nap, the less convinced she is that Ron’s theory is true.

She flops a hand over her eyes and allows a small yawn to escape her. Where did that come from? “I’m actually pretty tired right now.”

“Good. Sleep.”

Although she can feel her consciousness ebbing away, the universe must have a twisted sense of humor because all Hermione wants to do is continue talking to Ron. She needs to convince him that she will be just fine, and that she will figure out a solution on her own.

Still, her eyelids flutter closed as she allows the world to fade to black.

–

A blazing ray of sunlight filters through Hermione’s eyes. The tingling sensation in her hand indicates that it must still be heavy with sleep, and her eyes shift to find the culprit.

Ron.

The last visual she can recall is him sitting next to her on the chaise. Now he’s sprawled across the length of the seat, squashed in between her and the backrest. It’s also very likely that she’ll fall flat on her face given the precarious position she is now resting in, much in thanks to Ron’s body taking up most of the available space.

Her legs and feet dangle off the edge of the chaise, and the lack of proper pillow support has her head tilted downward towards the floor. She’s even got sore limbs and a kink in her neck to prove it.

Wait, is it morning?

Hermione gasps, making a quick attempt to sit up, but she can’t move with the weight of Ron’s arm curled tightly around her waist.

What in the world—

“Ron, wake up,” she hisses, nudging an elbow back to poke him in the ribs.

“Mmm…no.” Ron sniffs the air, shaking his head down into her curls that are splattered across his face. “Not the spiders, Mum.”

Hermione holds back her laughter, giving him a rougher shake. “Wake up, Ron!”

He groans, an action that only pulls her tighter against his chest. The pressure steals a significant amount of air from her lungs. “Ron, oomph, I can’t breathe!”

“What?” He finally croaks, his eyes clouding over in a sleep-filled haze. “Hermione? Wha—oh, fuck, sorry!”

Unfortunately Ron’s sudden realization of their positioning doesn’t fare too well for Hermione, who tumbles to the ground with a squeak as he releases his hold on her. It’s sheer luck that her forearms break her fall, preventing her from actually landing on her head.

Ouch. That’ll leave a bruise later.

“Shit!”

Hermione rolls her eyes, huffing stray pieces of hair out of her face. “Language, Ron!”

“Fu—er, I’m sorry, Hermione. I didn’t know…wait, is it morning?”

She clammers to her feet, rolling out her wrists. Glad you’re catching up, Ron. “We must’ve fallen asleep.”

Ron nods, letting out a yawn and stretching his arms above his head. “That’s good though, right? Looked like you needed the rest.”

A throat clears, alerting Hermione to another occupant in the room. Harry stands in the doorway clad in his pajamas and full of messy bedhead, squinting his eyes through his glasses.

“Blimey, I thought you two had left. I saw the light on when I was walking to the loo.”

Hermione meets Ron’s gaze, both sets of their eyes widening. “Uhm, actually we were just chatting. Must have lost track of time,” she manages to get out through shaky breaths.

Harry’s eyes dart between both of them, appearing unconvinced. “All night?”

“Yeah.” Ron’s gaze remains fixed on Hermione, a slight twinkle in his eye. “All night.”

Hermione’s fists clench into two tiny balls at her sides. If Harry had shown up just mere moments earlier, he would have found them asleep together. What could he have possibly imagined then?

“You do realize it’s morning now?” Harry continues on with his line of questioning.

Ron tilts his head towards the window in the room. “Worked that out for ourselves, thanks.”

“Got to be honest, Ginny was pretty miffed when she thought you two left without saying goodbye.” Harry crosses his arms, a devilish grin curling onto his face. “Wait until she sees that you’re still here!”

“I’ve got to go actually,” Hermione blurts out. There is no possible universe in which she will stick around long enough for Ginny to take the mickey out of her over this. “Crookshanks needs his breakfast and he’s a right terror whenever it’s late.”

Ron harrumps. “Bloody cat. Want me to see you home, Hermione?”

“I can get myself there, thanks.” With a brief wave at both of the boys, she exits the room in a hurry before either of them can see her flushed cheeks.

She fell asleep. She fell asleep.

And it was all because of Ron Weasley.

#submission

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starryybrained · 4 months ago

Text

Overwritten Routine

Whumptober Day 8: Isolation chamber

Content: Isolation, lab whump, captivity, nonhuman whumpee, self harm

It’s been hours now.

Solstice hasn’t seen another soul since it was left behind in the enclosure. Its only company is the warm yellow of the light in the ceiling beating down on him and the dirt beneath his feet. Every so often, a mist comes from the ceiling. He uses the mist to count how long time has passed, marking a line on the ground to help himself recall how many. He can’t count, but he can tell the row of lines is beginning to get long. Worried, Solstice recounts them on its fingers, checking how many sets of both hands there are. One set and its pointer, middle and ring finger… not including some it didn’t track.

The loneliness eats away at him. Where did they go? What are they doing? He paces, tracing the walls with his fingers like he’s done so many times before. He’s done this for many sets, so many he can’t keep track, trudging the circumference of the room, dragging his hand against the smooth walls and vocalizing to himself. With the room empty, it stretches its vocal cords, humming and making noises, anxious. He hasn’t resorted to crying or screaming yet, but he might, feeling his hope wane and the fear of the uncertain grow stronger.

It continues to trudge through the room, until the familiar feeling of moisture hits it. Misting. He makes his way to the tallies in the corner, adding a line and counting them on his fingers again. One set and the pointer, middle, ring, and pinky finger. Almost two whole sets. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.

Solstice holds back a worried cry, biting its tongue. It hurts to do so, but Solstice soon realizes it’s a new sensation and welcomes it. Leaning back against the wall, it bites its tongue over and over – and hard – until it’s tender and sore, running it against the roof of his mouth and teeth. It hurts, yet he can’t help but do it anyway. He doesn’t understand why he would want to hurt. Its own behavior is indecipherable to itself.

The cool droplets of water from the mist roll down his back, and he finds himself tearing up. It just doesn’t understand. Where is everyone? There’s only so much it can do while waiting for them–!

It paces around the room again for half a set, until suddenly, it sits on the ground, back against the wall. It digs its fingers into the soil, raking it up, ripping out fistfuls of it. With nothing growing within it, it’s easy to do so; it crumbles in Solstice's hands, crumbs of it falling to the ground.

He lets the dirt fall out of his fingers, uncurling them. Then, with a newfound fury, it shoves its hands back into the ground. Something deep inside of him awakens, twisting and writhing, and it pours out from his palms, burning. Something creaks from beneath the dirt, penetrating the surface, wooden, gnarled. Solstice pushes himself further, urging the energy into the ground and into his creation, making it grow larger until finally, in front of him stands a thin, crooked sapling.

For a second, time is frozen, and he stares in awe, his hands still buried in the dirt, his body fixed in place. Then he reaches for the trunk, caressing it, feeling the grooves of the wood under his fingers. In that moment, it feels an almost motherly connection to it, forgetting about being lonely, forgetting about the scientists, forgetting about everything.

Then it begins to decay.

Frantic, Solstice holds on to it, trying to summon up the energy once more, having only known his power for a fleeting moment. He fails and the sapling crumbles into the earth, dying until there’s nothing left but the rotten, petrified remnants of its leaves and branches.

He is unmoving again.

He lets out a tiny sob, and with a shaking hand, reaches for one of the blackened branches. Then he raises his hand with the branch in it and slams it down on his leg, stabbing himself. He does it over and over until he’s numb to the feeling, shuddering with silent sobs as he does. Once it’s done, it drops the piece of wood, betrayed by its own feelings and actions. It brings a hand to its thigh, rubbing the raw skin gently, its touch feather-light.

Gingerly, it lays itself against the wall, curling up and holding its legs to its chest, letting its hair fall over its eyes, closing them tightly.

#whump #whumplr #whumpblr #whump writing #whumptober #whumptober2024 #lab whump #lab whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #captivity whump #isolation #my whump #my writing #my ocs #solstice oc #not really an isolation chamber per se but idc close enough #he’s isolated and he’s trapped it counts ok #not taking any criticisms that it’s otherwise

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goblins-riddles-or-frocks · 2 years ago

Note

dual-part fic prompt: first a moment where nikolai ran across the darkling as a little boy, potentially even a scene where he'd broken into his private rooms and was hiding or something, and then a moment where he's mocking nikolai sometime circa R&R or KOS just before the monster takes over again (can be real or a hallucination)

Not the exact same concept but I was already working on a one shot with vaguely similar elements! Pre KoS I had a lot of thoughts about the Darkling resurfacing as basically a voice in Nikolai’s head. So I’m leaning into that with this.

***

At first, Nikolai thinks he is going mad. Ever since that fateful night, where he plummeted from the sky, still more monster than man, the Darkling’s power rapidly fading from him, but not quickly enough, he’s felt it. There’s an ice in his chest, always with him, an invasive presence chilling him to the bone. There are thoughts, urges, he doesn’t quite understand, that don’t quite feel like his own. When he dreams, even his nightmares aren’t fully his.

He might dream of meat, of sprouting talons and wings again, of losing sanity and taking flight. Or see his family dying at that last wretched dinner in his honor, gruesome memories from the army, from his time at sea. Those things are horrible, but they’re familiar. They’re not foreign things lodged into his mind.

Other nights though, he dreams of traveling endlessly, changing names with every village and city, always looking over his shoulder for fear of being discovered. Of hands holding him underwater, in an iced over lake. But in the most frequent dreams, he is only terrified of being alone in the all-consuming dark.

Then there are the dreams of Alina. Her hands, her neck, the feel of her. The way her face betrays her every single emotion. And the collar. Always the collar. Mine, a quiet, resentful voice whispers to him. She should have been mine. Mine to shape, mine to guide. My balance. My right.

It would be simpler to call it madness. But of course, Nikolai would never have such good fortune.

He’d hoped it— whatever it was— would go away with time, that it was just a matter of readjusting to life as a mere mortal again. That it was only the simple business of becoming reacquainted with trivial civilities such as speech, and literacy, and complex thought. But no, even as his monstrous foray feels more and more like a dream, Nikolai continues to feel distinctly altered.

Sobachka, he’ll hear the ghost of the Darkling say in his head. In the dark of night, half-ensared by sleep, when he will not fully remember. Usurper, he calls him. Thief. You foolish, boy-king. Your life is like a flicker of a candle, snuffed out before it’s begun.

The voice persists, grows stronger with each passing day, seeping into his waking moments. A nagging, bitter thing, a wound he cannot help but worry at, and feel it grow even more painful, inflamed.

Sometimes when the nightmares are at their worst, they’ll leave him thrashing in his bed, stumbling out of it with a will he doesn’t fully understand. Sometimes he’ll come to in the halls of the Little Palace, having slipped past multiple sets of guards, and through the wooded tunnel in his sleep. Usually he wakes before he gets too far— after all it’s always the same route, to Alina’s door.

This time, he wakes with his fingers— always stained with black, he still shudders at the sight of them— curled around the cool metal door handle. He recoils, almost stumbles, and he is about to turn away, but then the door opens a crack and he can see her peering out at him.

“Nikolai?” Alina says, voice raspy like she’s been asleep or perhaps crying. He can see the warm glow of lamplight behind her. She’s told him she cannot stand the dark anymore. That makes two of them.

He runs a hand through his hair, not quite fully awake yet. That dreaming urge to be near her still eating at him. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“Is something wrong?”

Tell her you’re pathetic, a drowning child, foolish enough to wade out into the sea. Instead he blinks, tries to smile. “I couldn’t sleep.”

She finally opens the door all the way, gesturing for him to come in. His gaze flickers to the antlers at her neck, the scales at her wrist, and the second fetter, bone white but delicately carved into the shape of talons clasped around her other wrist.

He always wonders if she’d requested that bit of obfuscation, or perhaps David had been feeling artistic. It’s weakness. Even now she refuses to face difficult truths.

She ushers him through the impersonal audience chamber and to the hexagonal bedroom all in shades of black. He wonders idly if she’ll ever change it.

She fusses over him to sit by the fire. He hadn’t realized he was shaking.

“I’d ring for tea,” she says. “But you hate it, and it is unreasonably late.”

“It is an abominable hour isn’t it? I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

She smiles faintly, fetching glasses and a bottle of brandy instead. He takes his own glass gratefully, tries not to spill it. He wonders how drunk he’d have to be before he stops hearing that cool voice in his head, trickling through his own thoughts like meltwater.

It hasn’t quite been a year since the Shadow Fold was destroyed. Since she drove a dagger in the Darkling’s heart to do it.

Nikolai doesn’t remember this part, or well, he shouldn’t remember, he wasn’t back to himself by then. But somehow he knows. The roiling, cold thing, whatever remnant of the Darkling still exists inside him, it remembers. How could I forget? When I was so close to my purpose, so close to lifting this country out of its misery.

After all was said and done, Alina had quietly accompanied him back to the capital. The Saint at his side to bolster his claim. She’d weathered the coronation with him and the chaos of drawing Ravka back from civil war.

But mostly she just sequesters herself in this room and its funerary elegance. He wonders if she likes it because it’s so miserable, or simply because it belonged to the Darkling. It’s a strange shrine to a dead man.

He’d proposed to Alina yet again, after everything, and she’d rejected him firmly enough that he’s resolved that it will be the final time. It had stung though, so much that he doesn’t like to think about it.

Even an orphan girl that comes from nothing will not have you. How humiliating.

Nikolai wants to say, if certain dreams are anything to go by, then it appears you’re in the same boat. But he catches himself before he does.

The most frustrating part of this, beyond the confusion and the unnerving distraction of having a foreign voice nattering in his head, is that more often than not he cannot reply. Nikolai has always been uniquely terrible at keeping his mouth shut. Over the years he’s become very adept at knowing the right thing to say, but simply staying silent is not one of his strengths. It’ll be just what he needs, walking around arguing with an invisible adversary.

He can see it now. Mad King Nikolai, remembered for his good looks and the pesky habit of interrupting nearly every conversation with entirely irrelevant, but admittedly clever, insults.

Alina lets him drink in silence, waiting for him to collect himself long enough to speak.

“There’s something wrong with me,” he says finally, more bluntly than he’d like.

“What do you mean?”

There’s too much open concern in her eyes, startlingly dark next to the rest of her face. This close he can tell that she has been crying. For her tracker no doubt. Wasted tears on an otkazat’sya who was only ever born to die.

He must really look wretched, because she touches his face gently. It’s meant in simple comfort but for a helpless moment he wonders if she’s trying to hurt him.

That’s pity on her face. She sees you for the broken, repulsively frail thing you are. A clock with a missing cog, a puppet with cut strings. Pathetic.

The firelight catches in her pale hair, makes it into a halo. It gleams off the amplifiers too, turning the bone white of them to a warm gold. He doesn’t like the way his eyes keep catching on them. And the place on her shoulder, where beneath the nightdress, he shouldn’t know she has a scar.

He pulls away, looking to the fire, the rest of the room, anything but her.

Despite everything, his wounded pride and his wounded heart, he’s glad now that she knew better than to accept his hand. Perhaps she sensed it somehow. How he is still stained by the Darkling’s mark.

“I’m not entirely certain yet,” he tells her, attempting for a light tone and failing miserably. “There’s a few possibilities, I don’t much like any of them.”

“Well, what are they?”

He remembers, as a child, in his rowdier days before anyone had come close to mastering the art of making him sit through an entire lesson at a time, he’d actually snuck in here. It’s virtually unchanged since then, the same carved forest on the walls, the same chips of pearls on the ceiling. He’d known no tutor would dare to look for him in the storied Darkling’s quarters. And he’d been right.

Unfortunately the room’s occupant himself had the audacity to be there, sitting by the same fireside with a book. Nikolai still remembers how towering the Darkling had seemed to his child’s eyes, gazing down at him with a bemused expression. The smoothness of his gestures nearly uncanny, almost serpentine as he approached him and crouched to nearly eye level.

“Moi tsarevich, it’s an honor,” he’d said, too seriously.

Nikolai had only backed towards the door, unnerved.

“I assume you have very important business.”

He’d nodded. “I snuck a live lizard in tutor Mitkin’s lunch and now he’s very cross with me.”

“Hm, a noble endeavor. Stay out of my way and tutor Mitkin needn’t know where you’ve taken refuge for the moment.”

And then the Darkling had offered him cake.

It’s an odd memory he can’t quite reconcile with everything that came after. Far too ordinary.

Should I have poisoned you? I believe that’s your brother’s wheelhouse though.

“Insanity,” he tells Alina, moving to stand. He feels restless in this confined space. His skin itches, feels too tight, ill fitting and wrong. “Which would certainly be a very interesting way to start a reign.”

Alina lets him pace, watching him quietly. “The other options?”

“A very creative imagination. Rather unlikely, I would say.”

“And?”

“The Darkling has taken up residence in my mind. Somehow.”

“What’s it like?”

“It’s like he’s whispering in my ear. Like I can feel him, taking root inside me.” He still vividly remembers the shadows pouring down his throat. The strange wrenching feeling in those moments before he’d turned into the Darkling’s creature. “Unfortunately he fancies himself a conversationalist.”

“Oh. That sounds unpleasant.”

“It is.” He sits down beside her again. Feeling rather defeated and sorry for himself.

“Aleksander,” she whispers.

And the voice that answers is not his own. “My Alina.”

“I killed you,” she breathes. But she’s also drifting closer, like she wants to touch him— the Darkling, not Nikolai, he knows that— but is afraid to.

“And I’ll haunt you for it.”

Alina takes a shuddering breath. It looks like she might cry again.

He doesn’t expect her to kiss him. He barely feels it, though his body responds regardless, hungry, possessive. At least for now, the Darkling’s voice is blessedly silent.

#ideally I’d edit this but I’m too busy so woo hot mess version instead 💖#I’ll get back to it one day…#grishaverse #shadow and bone #darklina #nikolina #alarkling #darknikolina #kind of?#nikolai lantsov #alina starkov #aleksander morovoza #the darkling #a string of words #*writer’s cap*#silence #step into my office #dark stories of the north

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