#this ask was such a breath of fresh air tbh

[mingi-s-dimples]

Christmas Eve - Mingi

First of all.. Merry Christmas, everyone! I know I am *a bit* late to the party 😭 but school has been stressing me out so much... and I haven't had time to write nor the proper motivation to, so I decided to delay my fics a bit in order to regain some of my motivation, since I want to give my utmost best when writing ^^. Happy holidays, and this is a great opportunity to thank everyone for all the support I've been receiving since I started writing! This place is my comfort, I love writing so much.. I love you 🤍

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pairing: bf!Mingi x gf fem!reader

genre: absolute fluff

summary: your boyfriend organised a surprise for you right in Christmas Eve.. which leaves you growing fonder of him ^^

wc: 1.3k (what a contrast between this and the ot8 one lmao)

warnings: literally no warnings, it's pure fluff ^^

Author's Note: I love writing thid tbh.. it felt like a fresh breath of air. I am all about Christmas, so y'all about to find out it took me 10 mins to write the first draft 🧍‍♀️ and 10 mins to rethink parts and finish. (pspspsps, special nye fic is coming... and it’s steamy 🫣)

The biting chill of the December night followed you home, your breath visible in small white puffs as you stepped out of the cab. Tugging your coat tighter around yourself, you couldn’t help but sigh. Christmas Eve had come at last, but work had been relentless. Most of your day had been spent organizing last-minute projects and ensuring everyone left the office in time for the holidays. The thought of warmth, home, and Mingi waiting for you was the only thing keeping you going.

However, as you approached your apartment door, something peculiar struck you. The hallway was dark—unusually so. The soft glow of Christmas lights, typically draped along the railing, was conspicuously absent. You paused for a moment, frowning as you set your keys in the lock. Had Mingi forgotten to turn them on?

Sliding the door open, you called out, “Mingi?”

No answer. The apartment was eerily quiet.

Shrugging off the odd sensation that prickled at your spine, you stepped inside. The familiar warmth of your shared space instantly melted some of the tension from your shoulders. After locking the door behind you, you shed your coat, scarf, and gloves, hanging them on the rack alongside your work bag. You glanced down at the fluffy slippers waiting patiently for you by the entrance—Mingi’s doing, no doubt. Smiling softly, you slipped them on.

The living room was just a few steps away, and as you made your way toward it, you couldn’t help but note the tantalizing scent of something delicious wafting through the air. Your curiosity piqued, you pushed open the door—and stopped dead in your tracks.

The room was transformed into something straight out of a dream.

A digital fireplace crackled warmly on the TV screen, the flames casting a golden glow across the room. The Christmas tree stood tall and regal in the corner, its ornaments twinkling like stars under the soft light of the fairy lights strung around it. Beneath its branches, a pile of neatly wrapped gifts sat waiting to be opened.

But the centerpiece of the scene was the small table in the center of the room, set up with candles, a bottle of wine, and two plates of what looked like your favorite dishes.

“Mingi?” you called again, your voice soft this time.

From the kitchen emerged your boyfriend, a grin as bright as the Christmas star adorning the tree spreading across his face. He was dressed casually in a cozy sweater that you loved on him, his dark hair slightly tousled as if he’d been hurrying to prepare everything.

“Surprise,” he said, holding his arms out theatrically.

Your heart melted on the spot.

“Mingi, what is all this?” you asked, stepping forward, a hand flying to your chest.

“It’s Christmas Eve, isn’t it? Thought I’d make it special.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I know how hard you’ve been working lately.”

Tears stung at your eyes, but you blinked them away quickly, not wanting to ruin the moment. “This is amazing,” you said earnestly, reaching for him. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

He caught your hands in his and kissed your knuckles softly. “You deserve it. Now sit down, let’s eat.”

Mingi guided you to the table, pulling out your chair with a flourish. As you sat, he poured you a glass of wine before serving up the dishes he’d prepared. Everything smelled and looked divine, from the roasted vegetables to the perfectly cooked protein.

“You didn’t burn anything,” you teased gently as you took your first bite.

He snorted, his face scrunching in mock offense. “Wow, no faith in me at all, huh?”

“None whatsoever,” you joked, earning a dramatic gasp from him.

The two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm, laughing and chatting about your day, your plans for the holiday, and reminiscing about past Christmases. The meal was delicious, and the warmth of the digital fireplace added to the cozy atmosphere.

Once the plates were cleared, Mingi brought out a tray of sweets he’d picked up from your favorite bakery. As you nibbled on cookies and sipped your wine, the conversation turned to your shared memories.

“Remember when we bought that tree?” you said, nodding toward the majestic pine in the corner.

Mingi chuckled. “How could I forget? You almost tackled that old lady to get it.”

“I did not!” you protested, laughing.

“You kind of did,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But it was worth it. Look how perfect it is.”

The tree indeed looked perfect, its branches heavy with ornaments you’d collected together over the years.

After a while, Mingi turned on a playlist of faint Christmas carols, the soft melodies filling the room. The two of you moved to the couch, the tree standing sentinel over you as you began to exchange gifts.

“Okay, okay, open mine first!” Mingi said, nearly vibrating with excitement as he handed you a neatly wrapped box.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “All right, all right, calm down!”

Carefully peeling back the wrapping paper, you uncovered a small velvet box. Your heart skipped a beat as you opened it to reveal a stunning white gold necklace with a matching pair of earrings. The necklace sparkled like frost in the morning sun, and the earrings were elegant, perfectly complementing it.

“Oh my God, Mingi!” you exclaimed, your voice rising with excitement. “This is gorgeous! How did you even—”

“I saw it weeks ago and knew it was perfect for you,” he said, grinning so wide it looked like his cheeks might ache. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it!” you said, throwing your arms around him. “It’s absolutely perfect!”

You leaned back, still holding onto him, and added, “Help me put it on?”

Mingi’s hands were steady as he clasped the necklace around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin lightly. When he was done, you turned to show him, and the way his eyes lit up made your heart flip.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured, his voice full of warmth.

“Thank you,” you said softly, before kissing him with all the gratitude and love you could muster.

“My turn, my turn!” Mingi said, bouncing slightly as he sat back.

Laughing, you handed him your gift. He tore into the wrapping paper with childlike glee, letting out an audible gasp when he opened the box inside.

“No way!” he exclaimed, holding up the sleek bracelet he’d been admiring for months. “No freaking way!”

“Way,” you replied, laughing at his reaction.

“You remembered? I can’t believe you got this for me!” His voice was filled with awe as he slipped the bracelet onto his wrist, admiring how it fit perfectly.

“Of course I remembered,” you said, grinning. “You’ve been talking about it forever.”

He leaned over and crushed you in a hug, nearly knocking you backward. “This is the best gift ever. Thank you so much!”

“I’m glad you like it,” you said, your cheeks aching from smiling so much.

“I love it!” he said emphatically, leaning back just enough to kiss you.

The two of you spent the next hour unpacking the rest of the gifts—sweets, small trinkets, and other thoughtful items—but nothing could compare to the excitement and joy of those two special gifts.

As the night wore on, you found yourselves snuggled up together on the couch, the soft glow of the tree casting shadows on the walls. Mingi’s arm was draped around your shoulders, and your head rested against his chest.

“This is the best Christmas Eve ever,” you murmured, your voice thick with contentment.

Mingi pressed a kiss to your temple. “It’s the best because I get to spend it with you.”

And as the carols played softly in the background and the warmth of the digital fireplace wrapped around you, you couldn’t help but agree.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive

[juuheizou]

Hello there!! Hope you're doing good! I love your writing for juuzou and mutsuki so i wanted to ask two ir more questions,,, 1.what would make juuzou genuinely upset/angry in an relationship and how does he act when he's angry/upset? and 2.what is something that would bring juuzou to tears and how does he's particularly sad? would he cry in front of anyone? how does he accept help and comforting? Ty in advance!!💕

Hello! You have no idea (well, you might once you read the full paragraphs below haha) how excited I was to answer your very important, deliciously angsty questions! Honestly I've been wanting to write some Suzuya hurt/comfort for aaaages, because I definitely see both of them having their moments though I know I tend to actually post my writings of one side more than the other. I hope I provided the insight into the inner workings of Suzuya Juuzou that you're looking for, anon!

1.what would make juuzou genuinely upset/angry in an relationship and how does he act when he's angry/upset?

Although we see him become a much more forgiving person in :RE itself and I say this as someone who adores him as a character, a lot of things make him angry. He is the type to have big anger over small missteps, especially those that make him feel like the offender is judging him. Little things that could come with good intentions from a partner, like messing with his doom piles, commenting on his snack choices, or trying to tuck in his shirt that he left untucked on purpose will flip his anger switch just as much as something truly heinous. As far as how he acts, he doesn't get mad. His eye might twitch or he might get a little more fidgety than usual when something upsets him, but for the most part, he just gets even. Now, getting even isn't always crashing someone's shiny new motorcycle or getting violent. It can be as quick and easy as making a hurtful remark back at the person who can't believe he's unwrapping a piece of candy before dinner or hiding something precious to the partner who messed up a pile that he had organized his way and seeing how they like it. He might have come a long way and forgiven Big Madam of all people, and he might actually let some slights against him go once he's had a chance to cool down, but he still holds grudges sometimes and can easily relapse into the vengeful soul he was before. Mutsuki's accepting nature protects him from this side of Suzuya a lot of the time because he doesn't try to fix or change people no matter how different they are from him. He even respects people who are disrespectful to him, but early in their relationship he probably did earn Suzuya's vengeance a couple of small, petty times just wanting to help with things he didn't completely understand. The first time, he apologizes and just takes whatever petty revenge Suzuya throws at him. The second time, the revenge is less petty and he's grown a little more assertive so he doesn't accept it and he's like "that was mean. Why did you do that?" Actually thinking about it instead of just acting makes Suzuya realize he cares about Mutsuki more than cares about making him pay for the initial offense, so they end up talking it out and from then on, Suzuya is better at asking himself if his first impulse is worth potentially hurting Mutsuki before he does whatever act of revenge he had in mind. The answer is just about always no. Gods help whoever makes him angry by hurting Mutsuki in any way, though.

2.what is something that would bring juuzou to tears and how does he's particularly sad? would he cry in front of anyone? how does he accept help and comforting?

Suzuya doesn't cry often, and he's more likely to cry from overwhelm than from sadness. He's more listless and may shut down in situations where others who express themselves differently might cry. Going quiet, staring off into space, not getting out of bed, vacantly trying to roll snacks towards his mouth so he moves as little as possible while comfort-eating, that's how you know he's sad. He would cry in front of anyone and everyone, because if he's at that point, he's beyond controlling his reaction to whatever drove him to tears. As we saw in the Owl Suppression Operation, if something strikes the right chord to make him cry, it's messy and out of control. Screaming in anguish, hammering fists on his surroundings, destroying things or hurting himself, curling up into a ball, it's a tempestuous fit to release the overload of whatever brought him to that point in any way he can. Considering his junior partner doubles as a personal care aide, he's actually pretty good at accepting practical help. Comfort, on the other hand, he often doesn't think to seek in other people. It's not that he doesn't want or need that sometimes, but very rarely does he recognize what he's feeling enough for the idea to occur to him. He's more likely to find distractions on his own until either the sadness passes or he can't handle it alone anymore. He's a hard person to read even for people who devote themselves to offering him their support, and often the first sign that he's in need of comforting is when Shinohara, Hanbee, Mutsuki, or someone close enough to have the opportunity finds him heavily self-soothing to comfort himself. Unless there is self-injury or damaging stuff involved, there's often no way to know if what he's doing is working and he just needs space to let it work or not except letting him know you're there and giving him the chance to do what he will with that information. Most of the time, Suzuya will eventually stagger to wherever Mutsuki is and wait quietly to be invited in for healing hugs, usually taking his sadness ball of blankets/plushies/etc with him, plus or minus venting to him about what's wrong.

[perfectlyoongi-main]

Also some of he works i'm proud of are on my anime blog but i don't feel like they belong there so there might b a chance that i'm moving them to this blog

[youredreamingofroo]

Hi Roo, do you speak any other language?:D

Hallo! I don't :( But I WISH I did, I took Spanish I in High School and can barely pick some stuff here and there. I have tried to learn Swedish (bec I have swede in my dna) but I always end up losing track or forgetting stuff and give up (but I do know very VERY vague bits of it) 😭😭 I also have tried to learn French and only know stuff like "je parle francais/anglais" and "je suis Roo" LMAO

[higgs-the-god]

i hope u feel better soon! :( i'll surely miss ur mgs content and hcs but i understand completely (why tf are there so many 🐜 in MGS out of all things??) and also, could u reblog some more of ur ocelhira art? i really love seeying it

heres a bunch from scouring my art folder! ill be honest and say im not Entirely opposed to drawing them again sometime.............

[illyrianbitch]

An Education in Malice — Part Three

Pairing: Vanserra!Reader x Azriel

Summary: With the sharp tongue of your notorious family, you are Azriel's most tantalizing challenge yet. It only takes one small meeting before you both realize that the line between hate and desire is dangerously thin.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT lots of bickering, sexual tension, threats, name calling, slight torture and wound descriptions, two emotionally dysregulated cunts tbh

Word Count: 8.2k (whoops i got carried away sorry)

←Part Two | Series Masterlist | Part Four🡢

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

After Lucien left Autumn, you saw him once in a while, found time to meet with him in Spring when things weren’t treacherous at home. It wasn’t often, but it was a breath of fresh air when you usually needed it most. You always assumed that feeling came with the openness of Spring— the feeling of being able to laugh with your brother.

But it only got harder over time and things slowly got bitter. Lucien tried his best to persuade you, had convinced you of a future for yourself you never would’ve imagined. Tamlin was ready to welcome you, to give you a space in his court, in his home. But you declined. Over and over, you declined. And eventually, Lucien stopped asking— and stopped pretending he wasn’t deeply hurt by your refusals. 

Before meeting with Azriel, it had been quite some time since you’d stepped foot in the Spring Court.  You hadn’t seen firsthand the damage that was done by Hybern. 

The house you stood in was nestled amidst the Spring Court's grassy expanse, dainty and modest but still beautiful, something so reminiscent of a peaceful, lively history.  You could almost feel an echo in these walls, something dull and quiet, a haunting remnant of a life that was lived here. The silence was broken only by the soft shuffle of your footsteps against the dusty floorboards. 

Sunlight filtered through the large, dusty windows, casting golden hues upon the scattered papers that littered the floor like fallen leaves in autumn— you stared at it for a moment, at the rays of light pouring through as normal, as if there was still a family inside to bask in their warmth.

"This is not where we meet.”

You bit back a grin as you nonchalantly shrugged, casting a quick glance over your shoulder. Sure enough, there he stood, spine straight and eyes burning into your back. Azriel had an affinity for quiet entrances, you’d noticed. But no matter how stealthy he tried to be, you could always sense him. Somehow, somewhere deep inside you.

 "I do things differently than my brother.”

You ran your fingers along a worn tabletop as you walked past it,  turning to face him fully as you leaned against the wood. There was a casual ease about your movements that you knew made Azriel uncomfortable, something you did that made his shadows swarm around him like angry bees to a heavily disturbed beehive. 

Your gaze met his.  "Besides, it's not like Tamlin will mind. Or these people," you said, gesturing around the abandoned, empty room with a sweep of your hand. "Seems like this home has been devoid of life since your High Lady let Hybern decimate this court."

Azriel's rough growl rumbled low in his chest, his shadows quickly slithering up his body to curl around his wings. From behind him they flared slightly, shadows hovering on their apexes like dark sentinels. You watched the display for a moment. And then your gaze fell back to Azriel’s face. 

You raised a single eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips.

"And they call Tamlin a beast."

Your voice was laced with equal parts mockery and challenge, a talent you’d learned to refine over the years. It always filled you with such satisfaction to see the flicker of annoyance on the males you used it with, the anger that grew in the muscles of their body.

Azriel said nothing, gave no response aside from the clench of his jaw and a flare of his nostrils. He was never one for self-composure, never needed to hone the skill. If he wasn’t staying in the shadows, quietly absorbing any information that was willingly shared in the dark, he was using his methods to get answers— and those methods, that duty, didn’t require him to have self control. If anything, his simmering anger helped him. But he was being careful now— around you, specifically. 

Another moment passed and Azriel’s shadows returned to their original place around his torso. He tucked his wings tightly between his shoulder blades. You frowned at the motion, watching as he scanned you, took in your entire presence before him, and turned to leave. 

It was your turn to clench your jaw, for your nostrils to flare in anger. A feeling of deja-vu ran through you like a wave, a memory of how he’d walked away from you in that forest, of how he had dismissed you so quickly then, too. You glared at his retreating form, pushing yourself off the table to stand.

"And where are you going?"

There was a sharp edge to your voice, a dripping venom that Azriel quickly recognized. His footsteps faltered for a moment. 

"Away," he replied tersely.

You weren’t one to beg. If circumstances were different, you’d gladly let him leave, make some comment to push him out the door yourself. After all, the last time you’d seen him your sole goal was to ensure he was out of your hair— out of your business. But things had changed. Eris needed you, and you needed Azriel. You needed an edge– a starting point. Anything. And deep down you knew Azriel had something to offer, that his shadows, his time submerged in them, must have gotten some information, some whisper, that could help you. 

If anything, he’d be able to help you with your current situation. You tossed a glance toward the small hallway behind you, towards the closed door at the end of it. You let out a small growl. 

 "We haven't talked," you snapped, “You’ve been here for less than five minutes. Are you giving up so quickly?”

Slowly, he turned to face you, his gaze a smoldering ember, tense with a restrained fury. "We've talked enough." 

There was a small hunger burning deep inside his stomach now and Azriel knew what he needed to do. He needed to go home and tell Rhysand that he, in fact, wasn’t up for this job. He needed to tell him that he had better things to do with his time, that due to the recent silence, perhaps these meetings weren’t needed in the first place. He made a move to leave once more. 

If you were angry before, you were even more pissed now. You were willing to cooperate despite every fiber of your being itching to set him alight, to leave him and remind him of his place. And he was toying with you. 

With a sharp intake of breath, you snapped your hand out, inadvertently dislodging a piece of wood from the top of the doorframe. Azriel's shadows shot out, snatching the fiery fragment from the air before it could fall. With a swift motion, tendrils of black shadow extinguished the flames, engulfing the fire and leaving only the scent of smoke lingering in the air. 

You blinked, watching as Azriel looked down at the burnt piece of wood that now dropped at his feet. He kicked it off his boots in a gesture of casual regard. 

You took a deep breath as you repeated, "I said we haven't talked.”

Slowly, Azriel turned around, his gaze piercing, expression etched with a simmering anger that would send most fleeing. You matched it as best as you could. He began to advance towards you, each step deliberate and measured, agonizingly slow. You found yourself rooted to the spot, unable to tear your gaze away from his approaching form. Despite the seething anger that coursed through your veins, you forced yourself to draw in deep breaths, fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms. 

Every muscle in your body screamed for action, for release, but you remained still.

Bending down slightly, he brought himself to eye level with you. His eyes scanned you, dissecting you with the precision of a predator sizing up its prey. And then, in a voice that dripped with authority and a burning fury, he spoke. "Tell Eris that if he isn't the one to meet with us, our agreement is over."

Your jaw clenched at his proximity, at the predatory gleam in his eyes that dared you to back down. But you refused to cower. You were growing tired of males in your life giving you commands. 

"Last I checked, you're a lap dog, not a High Lord. You don't give orders.”

His breathing mirrored your own, both turning shallow and erratic. As if in response to the heavy atmosphere, Azriel's shadows stirred, darkness swirling around him like a cloak of night. His wings extended. Then he straightened, the tension in the air easing slightly as he pulled away, breaking the almost suffocating closeness between you. 

“Why would I talk to you?” Azriel spoke. "Did you not threaten me the last time we spoke?"

You narrowed your eyes at his question, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as you shook your head in disbelief. "Oh my gods," you mocked, bringing a hand to your lips in exaggerated surprise. "Is this what this is all about?"

With a sarcastic lilt to your voice, you continued, "Did I hurt your feelings, Shadowsinger? Is that it?" 

Azriel's gaze hardened into something almost tangible, eyes narrowing into slits that bore into yours. Tension coiled in the muscles of his jaw. He gave no response. 

"Fine," you said, "If you're so sensitive, send someone else to keep this arrangement."

You waited for a moment, watched as Azriel stood quietly before you.

"Rhysand should have never agreed to working with your pathetic excuse of a brother."

A familiar heat rose within your stomach.  "My pathetic excuse of a brother," you echoed, "has saved your asses multiple times, whether you're willing to admit it or not."

A silence stretched between you. You clenched your jaw.

"Rhysand made this agreement," you hissed, "So be a good little Spymaster and spill your guts."

His demeanor remained stoic, but there was a subtle shift in his expression as his gaze scanned you once more, eyes narrowing slightly in contemplation. Something new gleamed in them, now, a hint of amusement deep within the hazel-brown. Even his shadows had stilled, coming to a slow circling around his arms. 

"I thought that agreement didn't apply to you?"

"Things have changed." 

"How very convenient for you.”

Frustration boiled in your chest.  "The sooner you give me any updates, the sooner you can crawl back into your shadows to wallow in self-pity," you spat.

Azriel's eyebrow raised in response. But still, there was no verbal answer, no indication of any real response. 

Straightening your posture, you adopted a facade of sweetness, a coy smile playing at the corners of your lips. "At this point, I'm starting to think you're finding reasons to stay and argue with me," you said, "If you want to fuck again, just ask. You’re getting desperate. It’s not a good look."

His eyes darkened instantly— as if you’d offended him in some deeply egregious way. "No updates,” he snarled.

You were torn on whether to smirk at his response or to offer a snarl of your own. 

"That's what you said last time we spoke,” you responded, “Over a month ago.” 

"Sorry to disappoint, princess.”

Azriel made it a point to emphasize the last word, to add as much venom as he could to the syllables that it contained. It practically dripped of contempt. His shadows flickered and writhed around him.

His silence, his nonchalance, his arrogant demeanor—  it was all beginning to eat at you, beginning to gnaw at whatever patience you had collected to be here before him. In the back of your mind you kept reminding yourself, kept repeating it over and over again: Eris needed you. And you needed Azriel. 

“You came here,” you said through gritted teeth, “You found me. Why bother making the trip if you had nothing of use to offer?”

Ever so slightly, like a dog curiously sizing up another animal, Azriel’s head tilted. He offered a half shrug. “It was expected of me.”

You scoffed. "As a good lapdog, I suppose."

A growl cut through the air like a warning. "Watch it," he cautioned.

"I don't think I will," you replied coolly, "You're all useless, as usual, so I guess I'll find out what I need to know by myself."

He raised an eyebrow in response, a subtle tick in his jaw as he scanned your face once more. Then, he turned to leave for what felt like the fifteenth time within the hour. 

You bit at the inside of your cheek. "And to think I had a little gift for you."

He stopped in his tracks, turning back to face you with a scowl. "What are you talking about?" 

“Doesn’t matter.” You shrugged nonchalantly, feigning indifference as you inspected your nails with exaggerated interest. "But, y’know, I always thought one of the perks of being a shadowsinger was being able to hear things other people didn't.”

You dropped your hand to look up at him. “Guess not.”

The muscles in Azriel's jaw tensed, his patience wearing thin as he took a menacing step closer to you. "You’re insufferable," he snarled, his voice a low rumble that reverberated through the room. “What are you hiding?”

“Rude.” You pouted. “And it’s not a what, so much as a who.”

Azriel’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes following the movement of your lips as they curved into a smile.  "Come on, pretty boy,” you taunted, voice laced with amusement, “If you’re not gonna use your shadows, at least use those arched ears of yours.” 

He scowled, letting his shadows fall from where he had been purposely containing them. Instantly they dispersed throughout the house. Az stood still— eerily, stone, still— as his eyes remained trained on you. A moment later, realization dawned on his face, his expression shifting from anger to something cooler. 

You chewed at your lip.  "Now, should I be flattered that my presence is so distracting?" 

A new grin began to widen as he shot you a glare, instantly moving towards the hallway of the small house, his shadows curling around his ankles while a few lone tendrils led the way.

The hallway was small, with only a few doors lining either side. He passed two in quick succession before finally reaching the room at the end of the hallway.

Pushing open the door, Azriel's shadows spilled into the room and he stilled, gaze falling to the unmoving form of a male sprawled on the floor. He was bloody and bruised, features twisted in pain as he lay in a pool of his own blood. 

He was alive. This Azriel knew from both his shadows and the shallow rise and fall of the male’s chest. He blinked, taking in the scene for another moment. From behind him, he heard your soft footsteps cease. 

When he turned to look at you, you were still grinning at him, a glint of something in your eye that made him nervous, of all things. 

"This is…" you began as you walked to where Azriel stood, positioning yourself next to him as you continued to speak. “One of my father's men.”

You gestured toward the man on the floor, shaking your head with a small chuckle of disbelief. "Somehow he’s one of my father's most trusted– has been out on a few errands for him.” You turned to look up at Azriel, only to find his gaze already on you. "Such a shame he’s on a drunken bender now... or at least, that's what everyone in Autumn is saying."

Azriel's gaze shifted from you to the man on the floor, his expression unreadable as he stared at the scene before him. "Did Eris bring him here?"

You scoffed at the suggestion. "I take offense to that, Shadowsinger. This was all me. Eris doesn't know.”

The answer drew Azriel’s gaze back to you, eyes narrowing with what you could only assume was a mix of skepticism and curiosity. 

"Why not?" 

You met his stare with a steely gaze of your own. "Don't worry yourself with the details.”

Your tone was cold enough to make him fall silent once more as he turned his attention back to the male on the floor. 

"You haven't heard even a whisper about Koschei?” You said, “Then he's probably your best bet, given Beron's incessant need for a power grab."

Beron. Azriel took note of how you used the term father interchangeably with his name. He stored the information away in his mind, reminding himself to think about it later– to assess if it was important enough to use against you in some shape or form. 

Azriel turned around to meet your gaze.  "What do you want?"

A smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you met his intense stare. "Maybe you're smarter than I give you credit for.”

But Azriel wasn't having it. He growled in frustration, patience clearly wearing thin as his scowl grew deeper. "What do you want," he repeated.

You didn't flinch. "I need you to be useful for once in your pathetic life and make him talk," you stated bluntly. “Obviously I can't keep him here. But I don't have spare dungeons just lying around. We're a bit more civil in Autumn than you night dwellers.”

"Civil isn't the word I'd use," Azriel gritted his teeth.

You rolled your eyes, biting back the answering remark that was on the tip of your tongue. You knew you’d have plenty more opportunities to tell him off, to make him simmer in his own anger and evident self-hatred. But you needed to buy that extra time first.

“I need you to take him somewhere and do your job. And I need you not to tell your owner about it—not yet, anyway."

Azriel sent a withering glare your way, but he didn’t bother to respond. If he were to acknowledge your words, acknowledge the jabs you were making at him, he was bound to lose control. He could feel it bubbling inside him already. 

“And why the hell would I do that?” 

You let out a small contemplative hum. The sound held a gentle caress to it, one that stood in such contrast to you— and to the bloodied male that lay before you both. It made Azriel shiver, made him itch to make a move. He wasn’t sure what move it would be, didn’t trust himself enough to think about it for too long. 

“You’re desperate,” you said, cocking your head at him. “I can sense it. This silence, the lack of any movement or threat, it has you unsettled.” 

Azriel’s glare remained fixed on you, a burning intensity that could have set you ablaze if he had been ‘blessed’ with powers just like you. It made you excited, the realization that you still evoked such strong emotions in an otherwise emotionless male. 

“I don’t think you know how to exist when you aren’t needed,” you murmured, “And your only skillset seems to fall in between fighting and fucking.”

His shadows swarmed around him as he rolled his shoulders back, wings extending out and high to tower over you— a reminder of who he was, in case you had forgotten. He was sending you a warning. 

“And what if I were to say no?” Azriel said, his darkened eyes drinking you in like a new challenge. “If I were to take him now, hide him somewhere and get the answers I needed?”

“You wouldn’t get far,” you said matter-of-factly, “You make the mistake of underestimating me.”

He thought back to his encounters with you, to the venomous bite of your tongue and the fire in your veins. He asked honestly, voice deep and rough like gravel, “Is that so?”

“All I care about is figuring out what my father is doing. Everything else? That’s on you.”

It was all true. You didn’t care about Koschei— not truly, not about him specifically. If it came down to it and there was a way to protect your family, to protect Eris and Lucien, to protect your mother and your hounds, even your other brothers, you would let him burn the world down. It didn’t matter to you. All that mattered was ensuring that power, that leverage, didn’t end up with your father. The savior complex of the Night Court could deal with the rest. 

“So if you try to cross me, I’ll kill him,” you pointed to the male on the floor. And then, you brought a finger to Azriel, “And then, I’ll go after someone you care about. I won’t lie and say that I haven’t dreamed of what it would feel like to make your sorry excuse of a family burn.”

Something snapped within Azriel, some thin sense of resolve that he had been delicately protecting by remaining quiet, passive even. In an instant, faster than his own shadows could process, he had you by the throat, pinning you against the wall with a force that stole your breath away. His eyes blazed with fury as he held you in place, grip tightening as he leaned in to share a breath with you. 

"You have a death wish, princess," he growled, voice low and dangerous, sharp like a sword. "I don’t care about Rhysand’s deal with your brother, with you. If you threaten my family, I’ll kill you."

Slowly, a smirk grew on your lips, tantalizing and wicked in a way that made Azriel’s own shadows still. Your smirk only widened as Azriel's grip tightened around your throat.

You could feel his anger radiating from him, could see it in the flare of his wings, in his breathing—heavy and ragged like a wound-up beast on the brink of attack.

"Is it killing me you think about when I run through that mind of yours?" you gasped out, your voice laced with a dangerous, intoxicating edge. "Or is it something else?"

The words seemed to strike a nerve, igniting a deeper, darker blaze of fury behind Azriel's eyes. He knew you were right, knew that thoughts of you had haunted his mind more than he cared to admit. Images of you, of your defiance and your vile mouth, had conjured themselves in his darkest fantasies, igniting a desire within him that he struggled to contain— how much he had enjoyed you, how starved he was to repeat it again, to make you submit in some form. 

"Shut up," he growled, his voice rough, strained.

"You want me dead, Shadowsinger?” you managed to taunt, your words punctuated by ragged breaths as his hand remained wrapped around your throat.  “Allow me to help you get a head start."

With a deliberate slowness, you raised your hand, revealing the glint of Truth-Teller, watching as Azriel's eyes flickered to the dagger, his expression betraying a hint of alarm.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through you as you observed his reaction, as you watched a sense of realization pass through his face— perhaps he had begun to realize that you were not just a challenge, you were an equal. A proper threat.

His shadows surged forward, pinning your wrist to the wall with a force that made a strained gasp leave your tightening throat. The dagger slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor with a metallic echo.

Despite the pressure against your windpipe, you managed to maintain your composure, your voice steady, albeit broken, as you spoke, "I told you that you were underestimating me."

Azriel looked over his shoulder at the male behind him, running the scenarios through his mind. You were right. He was unsettled— not only by the silence, but by some unquenchable thirst he’d been feeling. He veered away from admitting the truth, from admitting that his duties as a Spymaster helped him relieve some deep tension that had forged itself into his very bones, anger that was born out of every event of his life. It made him feel powerful, made him feel useful, made him feel in control. 

He’d been lacking in that area recently. He wanted to be in control again. This scenario, the male before him, a secret deal with you— being with you, it made for some sinister compromise in his deeply troubled mind. Something that made him hungry, made his thoughts hazy. 

“I’m not a patient female,” you hissed, “Make up your mind or get the hell out of here.”

Azriel knew better— somewhere deep in his gut, even deep in his mind, he knew better. But his rationality wasn’t the part he tended to listen to. So against his better judgment, and in favor of the burning he felt in his chest, of the sickening sense of excitement that had begun to grow, and the allure of your grin, he let out a breath and released his grip on you.

 “Fine.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

It had been a few days now, a week almost, since Azriel relocated Renard– as he’d so kindly offered his name— to an area where he could interrogate him farther.

The day had been quiet, nothing beyond familial affairs and brotherly gossip within your home. So you decided to pay Azriel a visit— see just how much this deal was benefiting you.

You stood silently for a while, observing Azriel as he circled Renard with an eerie calmness. You held on to any words that he spoke, absorbing any information you could— just in case Azriel began to pick and choose what he wanted to share. You knew that he knew you were there, that he’d sensed you the minute you’d winnowed in. But he hadn’t made any move to acknowledge you. You doubted he would anytime soon. 

This was how it had been for the past week. Azriel, as you had come to learn, went into a certain headspace when he immersed himself in his duties. He was frightening enough on his own, in his normal stature shrouded in his own shadows, wings on display. But in this state, as an active spymaster, even you found yourself being careful. Not as much as you should have been, but far more cautious than you usually were. 

A few more minutes passed, minutes filled with cryptic talk and groans of pain. You pushed yourself off the wall and walked closer to the opening.

"For a Spymaster, you're awfully bad at your job.”

Renard’s head snapped up to where you stood and he sneered as he caught sight of you, eyes filling with contempt. "If it isn’t the backstabbing whore herself," he spat, "When your father finds out what you've been up to, he'll—"

You clenched your jaw as your gaze flickered to him, taking in his form– bound to a metal chair, covered in his own dried blood. The irritation in your gut calmed as you gave him a scowl. 

"For a male bound to a chair like a bitch, you sure are mouthy.”

Renard opened his mouth once more, but before any sound could leave it, a flurry of Azriel’s shadows snaked around his neck, curling up to his mouth to gag him. He thrashed against the movement, attempting to bite at the strange, foreign feeling that bound his mouth. You grinned. 

You shot a pointed look at Azriel. "See, I had him talking already.”

There was no response. Azriel didn’t even look back, didn’t mutter a sound. He seemed more stoic than usual, more quiet than you were used to. It was unsettling. 

“You’re holding back,” you said. A statement— an observed fact.

Azriel threw a bitter glare your way, but his gaze didn't linger, falling back down to his stained hands as he methodically wiped his blade clean with a rag. "You talk too much," he muttered, tone clipped with irritation.

You ignored his deflection. "Is it Elain?"

He stiffened, hands stilling around the blade. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft rustle of fabric against steel as Azriel continued to clean the blade with meticulous precision, opting to ignore you to the best of his ability. But you could see it, the tick in his jaw, the tension in his wings— his restraint was slowly chipping away. 

"I can't blame you," you continued, "I've heard she's a real sweetheart. I bet you can't wait to get those blood-stained hands on her, ruin her in some way she can never return from."

The color drained from Azriel's face as his jaw clenched further, the siphons on his hands flickering with blue heat. 

"But she wouldn't stay with someone so dark, would she?" you mused aloud, a mocking lilt to your voice. "Someone so starved for affection."

The room fell into another tense silence as Azriel's grip tightened on his blade, the bound male before you shifting uncomfortably in his chair. But still, Azriel remained silent, expression hard as he continued to stare at the weapon in his hands. 

You felt a surge of frustration building within you, prickling and hot. You wanted a reaction, to break whatever resolve he was clinging to so that you could get the information you needed. 

"I miss Lucien quite a bit," you remarked casually. “He’s always had a great sense of humor. Tell me, can you hear Elain’s giggles through those picture-perfect walls of your Velaris homes? As she chooses a Vanserra over you?”

Azriel finally let out a low, guttural growl, a cloud seemingly descending upon his mind— obscuring his thoughts with a haze of anger and frustration. In one fluid movement, he lunged forward, driving the dagger into Renard’s chest, the blade sinking deep into his flesh as if his skin were a sheath. You, his mind seemed to growl at him, you insufferable, pretentious- 

His shadows slithered up his arms like dark serpents, and before Renard could utter another word of defiance with his newfound freedom, Azriel's fist connected with his face in a brutal blow, sending his head down in a motionless heap.

Azriel turned to face you, eyes burning with a loathing intensity that sent a nervous flutter through your stomach. His jaw was clenched, features taut with a dark anger, yet there was something else there too—a glimmer of excitement, perhaps, maybe even a hint of begrudging respect.

You were torn between fear and defiance, heart pounding in your chest as you met his gaze. There was a part of you that continued to relish in the power you held over him, the way you could push him to the edge with just a few carefully chosen words. But there was also a part of you that held strong to the reminder that you were playing a dangerous game with not nearly enough leverage. 

His gaze bore into you with an energy that made your heart quicken. Wings extended, he rolled his shoulders and took deliberate steps forward. Despite your efforts to stand your ground, you found yourself instinctively stepping back. Fuck.

Azriel noticed the movement instantly, his gaze flickering down to where your foot had shifted. When he looked back up at you, there was a gleam in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Is this your way of begging for my attention?" he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Has your court finally grown bored of you?”

A certain heavy anger boiled under your skin. "Fuck you," you spat. Your hands curled at your sides. 

A chilling smirk curled upon Azriel's lips. "You already have.”

He took another step forward and you stumbled backwards until your back hit the cold, unforgiving stone wall behind you.

"It's interesting," Azriel mused, "You say so many things about me, yet you let me fuck you— begged me for it. Do you hate yourself, is that it?"

For a male of little words, Azriel sure knew the right ones to say— and the ways to say them. He was mocking you, playing with you in the same manner you’d toyed with him. You had to admit that being on the receiving end wasn’t as fun. And your patience was wearing thin. 

You met Azriel's gaze with a mask of annoyance.

"Contrary to what your life experience might lead you to believe, some people actually like themselves.”

A small cock of his head.

"I don’t see what there is to like.”

You blinked. Then, a spark in your stomach lit and you were biting back a smirk. 

“Saw enough to fuck me.”

His jaw clenched. Seconds later, something flickered across his face, rolling through the scowl he wore. His eyes narrowed, the intensity of his gaze boring into yours with a new kind of intensity— something hungrier. 

“You were right,” he said, his voice low.

The sudden shift in his tone caught you off guard, leaving you feeling unsettled and apprehensive. He was too calm now, too collected compared to moments prior. It was dangerous— dangerous enough to make your heart quicken. 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" 

Another step towards you, close enough to where you both stood practically chest to chest, sharing a breath. 

"It isn’t just killing you that runs through my mind,” Azriel murmured.

His hand slithered up your collarbone, a roll of anticipation coursing through you at the touch. 

Then, with a swift motion, his hand twisted, fingers wrapping around the base of your neck, fingers threading through your hair. You let out a small, breathless gasp as he pulled roughly at the nape of your neck, coaxing you to tilt your head back, neck exposed fully to him.

He leaned in closer, breath hot against your skin as his nose brushed against your neck— tracing a path to your pointed ear. 

"You have no idea," he breathed, "The things I've imagined doing to you..."

He pulled back to meet your gaze, eyes heavy and blown-out in a haze of lust. He brought a rough hand to grip your chin, the pad of his thumb moving to trail over your bottom lip. "Putting this mouth to better use.”

You let out a small breath, heart pounding in your stomach as a familiar hunger began to grow deep in your stomach. Your body hummed with desire as you locked eyes with him. Azriel stilled, his thumb settling motionless on your lip. His eyes flickered to yours. 

“Does this turn you on, Y/n? Being pressed against a wall, so eager to be put in your place?”

For a moment, you stared intently into those hazel irises, into the dark, sickening sense of desire that flickered in them. Far in the back of your mind, a realization gnawed at you, nipped at you like a small animal begging for attention. This was a bad, bad idea.

Which made it all the more fun.

You surged forward, closing the distance between you and pulling him into a rough kiss fueled equal parts by anger and desire. 

Azriel let out a growl as he pressed you further against the wall, hands roaming eagerly over your body. One hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer to him with an iron possessive grip while the other quickly moved to grip your ass, bunching the fabric of your dress in his hands. 

You indulged him, mirroring the aggression and pressing hard into the hands that grabbed you, into his chest as you pulled him closer by a rough hand around the base of his neck. You moaned into the kiss, the sound muffled by his lips as he ravished you, nipping at your lips in an attempt to coax the sound out of you once more. 

The kiss was forceful, violating. Your teeth knocked together as Azriel moved his tongue deeper into your mouth, moving it in tandem with your own as you met his mouth in conflicted familiarity — movements both desperate, hot and heavy, separated by only your own gasps.

Azriel’s shadows began to coil around him as a distant groan echoed through the room. With a heavy breath, he pulled away from you.

"What?" you managed to gasp out, voice breathless as your eyes shuttered open.

He glanced over his shoulder, eyes falling to Renard’s stirring form, watching as he slowly came to from whatever hellscape Azriel's punch had thrown him into.

There was the clear choice: push you off, swear to himself that he wouldn’t indulge in such fantasies again and focus on getting answers for his family— information to protect those he loved from an imminent threat. 

And then there was the other choice, just as tempting as it was inherently wrong.

He looked back to you, to your swollen lips and dark gaze. 

Without a second thought, Azriel pulled you back into him, covering you both with his shadows as he winnowed away. 

The world spun in a dizzying whirlwind of movement. Disoriented, you pulled away, faintly recognizing the small home you’d grown familiar with, the same rays of sun peeking through wide windows. Azriel closed the distance between you once more— a kiss of tongue and teeth, rough hands pawing at you like an animal in heat, movements led by a hunger that matched your own. With a rough urgency, he guided you towards the small living area— the image of you pressed over a couch, bent over for him, grew in his mind. 

Azriel pulled apart, tugging at the material of your dress. A rough hand snaked up your waist, his large palm grabbing one of your breasts. 

"Take this off.”  He brought you in for another searing kiss. 

"Stop telling me what to do.”

With a swift movement, Azriel spun you around, hand gripping your neck as he pulled you into him. You could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against you through his leathers and you fought the urge to writhe in need. 

"There's that attitude," he growled into your ear. A wave of anticipation sparked in your stomach, his voice sending a wave of arousal that began to pool at your core. "I can't wait to fuck it out of you again.”

A smirk tugged at your lips as you turned your head to peer back at him. “And you say I’m the one who talks too much.”

Azriel's eyes darkened, jaw twitching as he removed his hand from your throat, wasting no time as he roughly threw you forward onto the armrest of the couch. You let out a small gasp at the sudden movement, arousal surging through you as his hands worked to push your dress up, the fabric bunching around your waist.

The fact that you were still clothed only added to the burning in your chest— something about it, in this abandoned home, made it feel even dirtier, even more sinful. The first time could have been written off as a bad decision in a lustful, angry haze, but this— this was deliberate. This was purposeful. And you wanted it— badly. 

A groan echoed in the air as Azriel finally stripped you bare of your lace underwear, fingers grazing over the soaked fabric with a primal need. With shallow, heavy breaths, he took in the sight before him, eyes dark with desire as he drank in the curve of your back, the way you instinctively arched in the open air. 

His hands found purchase on your ass, kneading the soft skin of your cheeks with a possessive grip. There was a haze clouding both of your minds now. Azriel felt like a starved animal, like a man already praying for release. 

For you, there was a deep, desperate need to be touched by him further, to feel him inside you again. 

Another moment passed as he gripped your ass in his rough hands. It was sickening how much he was enjoying it, enjoying the way his scarred hands ran over your skin, how his siphon glared and glistened with every pulse of desire that ran through him. His cock stirred.

You gritted your teeth together in response to the urgency in your body, at the fire his touch started beneath your skin. A sound of frustration left your mouth.  

“Are you just going to stare or are yo-”

Your sentence halted abruptly, interrupted by the sudden slap of Azriel's hand against your ass. 

The sting of the impact sent a jolt of electricity rippling down your legs, the feeling instantly intensified by the burning sensation of his finger tracing along your folds.

"Look at that," he crooned, "So eager for my touch."

Two fingers drove into you. Your back arched in response as a delicate moan left your lips. 

Azriel's voice, low and husky, wrapped around you like a caress as he observed your response to his touch. “So responsive.”

He drew fingers out, slowly working up to circle your clit with your own wetness. He curled his fingers into you again, pulling a faint whine from your lips. You bit at your lip, gnawed at it in an attempt to quiet yourself: With each thrust of his fingers, you felt yourself building to the edge of ecstasy.

You attempted to grind your hips back into him. 

But before you could fully indulge in the sensation, a faint tug wrapped around your legs. His shadows coiled around your ankles with a sudden force, yanking your legs apart and holding them firmly in place.

A gasp escaped your lips as you registered the movement, legs bowing under the pressure as his shadows— as Azriel and his fingers— exerted their control over you. His left hand grabbed hold of your ass, locking you in place as his fingers continue to plunge into you.

Azriel hummed in approval at the sight before him, his tongue running along his lip at your vulnerable position.

"You look even better restrained like a good little whore.”

The voice that spoke was almost unrecognizable, even to Azriel himself,  dripping in lust, deeper and rougher than you’d ever heard. A growl escaped your lips.

"A lot of talk and not enough action, Shadowsinger.”

His jaw clenched at the taunt, the muscles on his arms and throughout his back tensing in response. Instead of responding, Azriel’s fingers worked to undo his leathers, quickly freeing himself from the confines of his pants, his length springing free and throbbing with need.

He stroked himself once, twice, his gaze never leaving yours as you lay beneath him, breathless with anticipation.

“Do you want me to fuck you, princess?”

Your heart gave a throb and something in your stomach clenched. At the sound of his voice, your muscles tightened, and by the way Azriel’s breath hitched, the way his body tensed further, you knew he could feel it beneath his fingertips. “Yes,” you answered without hesitation, because how could you not.

He guided a fisted length along your slit until the thick head was pressed against your glistening core— teasingly, agonizingly slow, Azriel repeated the motion. Once, twice, a third time, watching as the tip of his cock slowly collected the wetness of your cunt— the slick that he had caused.  

He hovered above you, cock poised at your entrance as you ached for the release that only he could provide— a scary, insidious reality you’d come to acknowledge. 

Azriel let out a guttural groan as he pushed himself inside of you, your slick walls welcoming him eagerly.

"Oh fuck," he breathed, face contorting in pleasure as he watched himself disappear into your cunt.

The stretch of him was delicious, a sudden feeling of fullness pulling a whimper from your lips as you surrendered to him. Azriel moved his hips slowly, savoring the sensation of being buried deep within you.

He spread your cheeks with his fingers, wanting to admire the sight of his cock disappearing into you— his grip grew tighter the longer he watched, the harder he attempted to store the image away in his mind, somewhere he could reach for it at a later time. His movements were deliberate, each roll of his hips pushing his cock farther, deeper, into you. Agonizingly, teasingly slow.

But you wanted more. You needed more.

“C’mon, pretty boy,” you crooned from over your shoulder, pausing to bring your bottom lip between your teeth. “You can do better than that.”

He let out a growl— a sound more animal than it was fae. And then he was pulling himself out, quickly pushing himself back in to sheath himself to the hilt once more. The force of it alone sent your body forward, and Azriel was quick to grip your waist in his hands and pull you back into him, into his relentless pace. 

“Gods,” Azriel groaned, more to himself than you, “I’ve missed this tight cunt.”

Your back arched more each time he plowed into you, the bow of your spine more pronounced as Azriel’s hands gripped at the small of your back, pushing you further onto the arm of the couch. You gripped the couch cushions beneath you with tightly curled fits, leveraging your hips higher to meet every thrust.

A prickling heat spread through your body, collecting at the palms of your hand as you gripped onto the couch below you. 

“Prove it,” you managed to whine out— a challenge, an offer.

Azriel took it immediately. 

He pulled you back even more, moving your body so that your weight was leaning forward, stomach pressed against the arm rest, toes barely touching the ground as as he rammed into you at the new angle.

Azriel couldn’t explain the hunger he was feeling now, the deep-seated pleasure he was experiencing as he fucked you, watching as you writhed underneath him, watching how your ass bounced with every thrust. It wasn’t like this with any other female he’d bedded. This, you beneath him, was addicting. Every indecipherable sound you let out was intoxicating, the sound of your whimpers, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. It made him want to test every limit he’d ever set for himself, push every boundary he knew he shouldn’t. But as you moaned for him, as you met him at every jerk of his hips, Azriel couldn’t think of a better way to continue his life. 

“Thats it, princess,” Azriel murmured, “Fuck yourself on my cock.”

It was obscene, truly, the creak of the floorboards under the weight of the couch, the wet sounds of your bodies slapping together, your moans, his harsh breathing. You threw yourself back into every thrust, legs now aching as they remained spread apart, tied by his cool shadows at the base of your ankles. Pleasure laced and bloomed inside of you, radiating down from your fingers to your toes— an electric pressure building to a peak.

Azriel’s mouth salivated as he drank it all in: the sound of his balls against your ass, your breathy moans, the sensation of your wet heat wrapped around him. The room echoed back the sounds of your pleasure in an erotic melody that left you both embarrassed and breathless. He gave your ass a rough smack, a shiver running through his body as he observed the reddening print of his palm on your skin.

“Dirty, dirty, girl.”

You could feel his cock swelling inside you, could feel his hot palms gripping your skin— there would be bruising, you were sure of it, marks of his hands in such unholy, dangerous placements.

You let out a breath, attempting to brace yourself on your forearms as you turned your cheek to your shoulder, just enough to see him moving behind you, just enough for you to murmur, “I think you love it.”

The words seemed to sir Azriel even further and he  increased his pace, thrusts becoming even rougher, sloppier—  more urgent. Your body responded to his movements, cunt massaging him, clenching around him, making him groan instinctively in response.

His breaths were ragged as he bucked into you roughly, a string of curses falling from his lips. With one final snap, you felt the tension within you reach a peak, cunt clenching around him as your orgasm rolled through you, white-hot and dizzying. 

A shiver of pleasure shot from Azriel’s stomach to his cock — with a rough jerk, he emptied against inside you, an animalistic groan filling the room as he came, face contorted with pleasure. You felt the warmth of his seed fill you, felt it leaking as Azriel slowly pulled out.

You slumped over the armrest of the couch, body still tingling from the intensity of your orgasm. 

Azriel’s eyes were fixed on you, his cock still twitching with the aftershocks of his release. He watched his seed drip from your glistening folds. He fought a primal urge to stroke a finger along your folds, to curl them in your cunt again and push his seed even further--- to claim you in a way that would ensure you could never forget the pleasure he had given you yet again.

Slowly, his haze of euphoria slowly faded, his body now relaxed, the tension melting away as his shadows loosened their hold around you. He looked up, watching as you pushed yourself up from the couch, watching as your dress fell back into place as you turned to face him.

A wicked grin spread across your lips, sinful and enticing.

“Now isn’t that a lot more fun than just killing me?”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

←Part Two Part Four🡢

A/N:

and so we begin the fun lil enemies with benefits and forced proximity tropes… we love when 2 heavily traumatized people bond over torture <3

also confession time guys…writing the words whore or slut make me 😟 but in this case lil az using it as a means of trying to be in control… just imagine how he’s gonna feel later when he’s realizing how shitty it was and how he actually respects you omffff

TAGLISTS

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon @glam-targaryen

malice series tag list: @going-through-shit @sidthedollface2 @justasillylittlegoofyguy @mal-adaptive-dreams @alainabooks143 @mybestfriendmademe @sfhsgrad-blog @marina468 @wonderwomanlovesyou @the-darkestminds @circe143 @starsandsins @acourtofdreamsandshadows @ysmtttty @mendes-bae

@breadsticks2004 @tothestarsandwhateverend @kamastar39 @previousloversandmuses @judig92 @romanoffslegacy @sweetcarolina-24 @harryskissies @glitterypirateduck @justyouraveragekleemain @midnightnotice @teenagellamaangel @thesillyyogourt @reiincarnatiion @stinkinstuffie @formulahockey @pruvii @marina468 @nickishadow139

@cherry-cin @quinzzelx @sadiechar @glam-targaryen @moosemahboi @inloveallthetime

azriel tag list: @thisiskaylin

if your username is crossed out it means i was having issues with tagging you so hopefully it works 🫶🏻

[vivmaek]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PART EIGHT (positive vibes only <3)

This was originally going to be another roast. But tbh, my heart has been feeling heavy the past few months. I'm sure some of you can relate, especially with all the events currently occurring in our world. So, I decided to focus on what I love most about certain placements in an effort to spread a little positivity.

✿ Aries Moons stand up and fight for the people they care about. They won’t let their friends be belittled within their presence, they have your back. They’re the first to speak out on injustice and will take action to make things right. 

❀ People who have Gemini in the 8th house ask questions that matter. They invoke deep thoughts within other people and are unafraid to explore topics that are uncomfortable or taboo. 

✿ Those who have a Moon Sextile Venus aspect know how to make others feel loved. They pay attention to their loved ones, and give each and every one of them the special attention that they deserve. These people are relationship builders. 

❀ Libra Venus, how does it feel to be god's favorite? These types invoke good feelings in other people. They’re so sweet and have hearts of gold. Good friends and romantic companionships are easy for them to find because their affection comes from a place of authenticity. 

✿ People with Saturn in the 7th house wait for what's right for them. They take their commitments seriously and don’t play around with people's feelings. They respect their romantic partners. Their firm boundaries lead to successful relationships. 

❀ Walking earth angels have a Sun trine Neptune aspect. They have a divine presence and they don’t get tied up within their own ego. People look to them for spiritual guidance. They uplift the souls of others. 

✿ Aquarius Mercurys aren’t afraid to evoke controversy. Sometimes this is needed in the world. If there's an elephant in the room, they’ll point out the obvious. They formulate their own unique thoughts, and are not easily influenced. 

❀ People who have their Moon placed within the 4th house know how to make a home. As someone who was raised by a person with this placement, I truly reaped the benefits of this. They keep family traditions alive, or even start new ones. They understand the importance of family and act as the glue that holds everything together. 

✿ Those who have a Uranus trine Ascendant aspect make life more interesting. Without them, the world would be a boring place. There is no one like them, and they cannot be replaced. Their quirky nature is endearing. They are such a breath of fresh air. 

❀ Taurus Mercurys are so level headed that it has a calming effect upon the people who surround them. They take things slow and are not quick to jump to conclusions. Within group projects or endeavors, they are at the heart of it. People can depend on them. 

✿ People who have Uranus in the 10th house prove to others that you can lead an unconventional life and still find success. They don’t follow the rules, and don’t rely on tradition for stability. They inspire others through their free spirit. 

❀ When someone has a Venus sextile Saturn aspect within their birth chart, they make relationships that last a lifetime. These people are loyal friends and they know how to maintain the longevity of a relationship. They show up for people when needed and they never make a promise that they can’t keep. 

✿ People with a Gemini Venus teach other people how to have fun within relationships. They love innocently and there are no strings attached. They make their friends and loved ones feel like a kid again when in their presence. Their lighthearted approach to love is comedic, they live life as if it were a rom-com. 

❀ Cancer 1st housers are quiet leaders. They approach life with a healthy level of confidence. As a leader, they still treat their subordinates with the respect they deserve. They don’t forget about the little people, and are attentive to people who are struggling. 

✿ A Saturn trine Neptune aspect allows the native to grow significantly when faced with opposition and challenge. They understand the importance of spiritual lessons, and go out of their way to right their wrongs. They don’t lose sight of what they’re working towards, and won’t lose their sense of morality once they achieve success. 

❀ Libra Moons remind people how important it is to incorporate pleasure into life. Working hard means nothing if you don’t stop and appreciate the benefits you’ve gained. Having an appreciation for the little things doesn't mean they’re materialistic. 

✿ Uranus 7th houses maintain independence within relationships and don’t lose sight of who they are. They are not going to change who they are just so a relationship can function. They march to the beat of their own drum, you can dance to the music or move along. 

❀ People with a Mercury trine Ascendant aspect bring humor into this world. Of course, they’re incredibly smart and their academic skills are impressive. However, they still don’t take themselves too seriously and are full of witty remarks. They share the best memes and are always in the know. 

[potatoplace]

betty

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

the 1 (part 1) | So Long, London (part 3)

mini-series masterlist | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: In the aftermath of your fall, your sisters stay by your side, comforting you as best they can. The Shadowsinger is lurking, hoping for a chance to apologize. Will you tell him to go fuck himself or take him as your mate once more?

Warnings: suicide mention, self harm, difficult birth, chronic pain (idk if I should tag that?), FUCK AZRIEL

Words: ~3.5k

Author's Note: So. This was supposed to be the HAPPY ending. And it kind of is. So. Yeah. I just couldn't think of a way to make it actually happy except in the way that I did. Because tbh Azriel fucked up TOO. HARD. There's honestly no way to fully come back from what he did... grrrrr. I hope you guys like it anyways, sorry that I can't deliver on some actual fluff to heal your hearts 💔 also the first bit before Feyre finds out about Reader is the same as in 'Gone'. And the final alternate ending will be out tomorrow!

18+ only pls

💙🤍💙🤍💙

Azriel quickly made his way back to Elain, doing his best to put the interaction he had just had with you behind him.

His mate.

Elain’s sister… That’s the only way he had ever thought of you.

As a human you had been… Less than average. Hard to look at.

At least in comparison to Elain.

Elain was a breath of fresh air, so lovely and innocent and so entirely unlike him.

And turned fae, she was even more breathtaking.

He had waited for her to realize how truly damaged and scarred he was, and not just on the outside. How entirely unworthy of her he was.

But she hadn’t. She had seen him, loved him, even with how broken he was on the inside.

And he had meant his words to Nesta, when he had said no one would ever compare to Elain, even his mate.

And he was right. You didn’t compare to her.

But as he reached her side and wrapped his arm around his lovely Elain, he couldn’t help but… wonder.

Had he just made a mistake in rejecting the bond so easily?

His free hand came to rub at his chest, which felt like it was being scraped with a knife, a dull, throbbing pain.

“Are you alright?” Elain’s sweet voice asked, and he tilted his head to look down at her.

“Of course, sweetheart. Join me for a dance?” He asked softly, leading her by the hand to the dance floor after she nodded, a beautiful smile gracing her lips.

The ring in his pocket, so dainty and light, felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds.

He had planned to propose to Elain tonight, present her with the beautiful ring that he had picked out just for her. But now, after your confession and the pain from a severed bond in his chest, it just didn’t feel like the time.

Only a minute into their dance, Feyre screamed in agony, all heads whipping to look at their High Lady.

“Feyre? What’s wrong?” Rhys asked, already holding Feyre in his arms.

She broke away from him a moment later, sprinting further into the House without any warning.

Rhys followed immediately after, running after his mate, and the rest of the inner circle followed quickly.

They found Feyre peering over a balcony, sobbing at whatever she saw before summoning her wings. In the next moment, Feyre was jumping over the edge, diving down towards the rocks below.

Just a few seconds later, she returned, a body clutched tightly to her chest-

You. His mate.

Feyre set you gently on the ground, her hands already glowing with healing powers. “Someone go get Madja. Now.”

Cassian took to the air as soon as she gave her command, flying in the direction of the healer’s home as the rest of them stood, watching Feyre work to heal your broken, battered body with mouths wide in disbelief.

Your other two sisters fell to the ground around you, careful not to touch you lest they cause any more damage.

“What… What happened?” Elain asked tearily. His soft, sweet Elain, tears already streaming down her face, sorrow matched by Nesta.

But Feyre… Feyre was sobbing as she worked to heal you, mending the vital organs that had been damaged in the fall.

Because you had fallen. Somehow, you had fallen over the edge of the balcony that would reach above your waist.

You were so small, so fragile.

The torn bond in his chest felt like a gaping wound, Truthteller twisting inside the muscle over and over and over as he looked at your dying body, the reality of the situation hitting him all at once.

You are his mate! He had rejected his mate!

Cassian returned with Madja in record time, who immediately set to healing the bones that were shattered into a thousand pieces.

“Everyone besides the sisters should leave now, I need to focus,” Madja said sharply, leveling a glare at Azriel himself.

He had been softly sobbing, tears cascading down his face without him even realizing.

Rhys, Cassian, Mor, and Amren all turned their eyes to Azriel, confused at the level of grief he was displaying, nearly level with your sisters.

Quickly, Azriel turned and left the balcony, making his way to another abandoned one, taking to the skies a moment later. He hoped the cold air would clear his thoughts, rid him of this feeling of regret he was holding now, after seeing you nearly dead.

But still, his heart ached with the need to see you, the need for the bond to be whole and healed again, to give it a chance.

Because now, he could see that he had made a mistake. Now that you had nearly left him in a way he hadn’t anticipated, hadn’t thought would ever happen.

Elain… Elain would be sad, of course. And he would miss her truly… It was a shame you were sisters, or he may have been able to figure out a world in which he could have the both of you to love him.

Most likely, Elain wouldn’t want a relationship with her sister’s mate, either. It would be… Cruel of them to continue on, with you still around them.

He didn’t know how he hadn’t realized that the moment you had confessed.

But there was no changing that. There was only the path forward, and that was for him to find some way to repair the bond between you, and do whatever he needed to win his mate to his side

💙🤍💙🤍💙

The first time you woke, it was to blinding pain in every inch, every cell of your body.

Without opening your eyes, your body wrenched itself to the side to wretch up whatever remained in your stomach, the movement sending more stabs of pain through you.

You weren’t awake for more than a minute before you succumbed to the pain, falling into blissful nothingness.

The second time you woke, you could hear muffled words, sounding like they were passing through several layers of cotton stuffed into your ears.

The voices sounded like your sisters, arguing in hushed voices.

Probably about what a failure you were, not even able to take your own life, even by jumping from-

A balcony.

Azriel.

Your mate.

The pain of your body was nothing to the renewed agony of the severed bond, ripped so suddenly after finally being recognized by your mate.

A scream left your lips without a thought, and your hands attempted to raise up to your chest, to attempt to soothe the pain ravaging you so thoroughly.

But they were stopped, held down by gentle hands, and two more cupped at your face, the kindness in them reminding you of only one person-

Twin.

Your eyes cracked open the slightest bit, the connection between you and Feyre giving you just enough to meet her pretty blue eyes with your dull brown ones.

“Y/N, you’re awake,” Feyre said softly, the words echoed into your mind so that you could actually hear her. “Try to stay still, sissy. We healed you as much as we could but you could still reinsure your muscles. Just stay still, I’ll get you more pain potions.”

Tears leaked out of your eyes. “Bond. Hurts,” you managed to whisper to her mentally, and her eyes widened.

One of her hands left your face, the other one curling around to lift your head and tilt a potion into your mouth, the liquid bitter but instantly easing the physical aches within you, tiredness sweeping over your senses and pulling you under.

But you could still feel the pain in your heart.

The third time you woke, the pain in your body was only a dull ache, but your hands shot up to rub at the ache in your chest.

No hands stopped you this time, but you heard three soft gasps as you moved, and after a moment you let your eyes flutter open, squeezing shut after seeing how bright it was.

“Oh, shoot,” Elain’s soft voice said, and you hear her soft footsteps and the swish of fabric before she returned. “It’s darker in here now, you should be more comfortable.”

You let your eyes open again, pleased to see there was only the dim glow of the fireplace and a few candles dotted about the room.

After a moment, you recognized that you were in the room that had been set aside for you in the River House, laying on the plush bed with your sisters huddled around it on chairs.

“What…” You started, but found yourself coughing, your dry, sore throat protesting the action. Feyre quickly offered you a glass of water, helping to raise your head and tilting the glass to spill the cool liquid down your throat.

Once you had had your fill, she set the glass back down on your bedside table, then helped you sit up against the headboard. She fussed with the pillows, making sure that you were only laying against the plush padding, then tugged the blanket up to cover your chest and shoulders.

Feyre was sniffling softly as she looked at you, her eyes gleaming with unshod tears, but her face was puffy and red so you knew she had been crying recently.

“What happened?” You asked quietly.

How did I survive?

“I- I felt you go unconscious, through our mental link. And I- I found you on-” Feyre’s voice was cut off by a sob.

Nesta sighed, to your left. But it wasn’t an angry sigh, like you were used to. Your head turned to look at her, seeing tears on her own face as well.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had seen her cry.

“She could you at the rocks below the House of Wind,” Nesta explained, her hands sneaking under the blanket and taking your left one in them, her thumbs rubbing over the back of it in a comforting manner. “You were… You were nearly gone, when we found you.”

“She and Madja saved you, but they said you might have some… Residual pain, because of the amount of damage,” Elain said softly, her own hands resting on top of the blanket over your right hand.

You blinked at the three of them, lost for words.

The pain in your chest flared again, reminding you of exactly why you were in this situation.

“I… I’m sorry for worrying you…” You whispered, guilt overtaking you as your right hand came to rub at your heart, attempting to soothe its pain, as futile as it was.

“Why are you sorry?” Nesta asked sharply, and you flinched. “I- I just meant that you have nothing to be sorry about. It’s Azriel who should be apologizing, and to you.”

Tears flooded your eyes at the mere mention of his name, and Feyre’s fingers wiped them away with a soft cloth with so much care that you began to sob.

“Oh, sissy, I’m sorry,” Feyre said, and climbed into the bed next to you, her body curling into yours like it did for so many years in that cold, run down cottage. “I’m so, so sorry,” she cooed as she rocked your body gently, joined to her back by Elain and Nesta to your left. “For what it’s worth, he realized what an… Error… He made,” Feyre said softly, but it only made you cry more.

That meant that he had hurt Elain, and that was the last thing that you wanted.

“It’s okay, Y/N, really. I don’t…” Elain paused, trying to find the right words. “I don’t want to be with my sister’s mate, especially not… Not with the circumstances. He won’t tell us exactly what happened, just that… He rejected the bond quickly, and is now searching for a way to heal it.”

Your sobs quieted at that information, your mind confused.

“What?”

“Azriel is… Attempting to make amends with you,” Nesta said, clearly angry with just the suggestion. “Though what he thinks he can do to fix it, I don’t know.”

Elain sighed. “Really, I’m sorry Y/N. If I had known he was your mate… I never would have accepted his advances.”

“It’s okay, ‘Lain. I… I should have told him sooner, given him… An actual choice, not sprung it on him last night.”

“Starfall was a week ago, Y/N. He’s been stalking your room since we brought you here, his shadows are practically coating the door at all times. Feyre hasn’t let them in, though,” Nesta explained.

Your brow furrowed. A week? You had been out for a week?

“You needed the time to heal as much as you could. You woke up a couple of times, but it never lasted for long, your were in too much pain,” Feyre said softly, one of her hands running though your hair.

“Can… Is he… Is he waiting now?” You asked quietly, though you weren’t sure which answer you were hoping for.

Your sisters exchanged weary glances, but Elain was the one who nodded in confirmation.

“Would I be able to speak with him?”

Nesta sighed and squeezed your hand tightly. “Are you sure? I could go roast him alive instead? Save you the trouble of taking him out?”

Despite the pain still throbbing in your heart, your lips curled up at her suggestion. “No, I’ll be… Fine, Nes. I just… Need to do this.”

“Okay, we’ll tell him that he can come in. Would you like any of us to stay?” Elain asked, her eyes soft and worried.

You shook you head. “No, I think it would be better for us to talk alone.”

“If you need us, or to have him leave, just reach out for me, okay sissy?” Feyre suggested, giving you one last squeeze before she slipped from the bed.

“I will, FeyFey,” you said, giving her a soft smile in an attempt to reassure her that you were fine.

Nesta opened the door to your bedroom, shadows instantly flooding inside as she did. You could spot Azriel’s massive frame in the doorway, his wings drooped to the ground.

You heard Nesta hiss something at him, too quietly for you to hear, but the way his wings fell further and his accepting nod came across, you were certain that she had threatened to cut off important body parts if you ended up even more hurt.

Azriel entered the bedroom, his eyes cast to the ground as he stood in the center of the room. Elain left next, avoiding looking at Azriel as she did. Feyre was the last to go, leveling Azriel with a deathly cold stare. You knew that she was the most shaken up by the experience- you and your twin had always had a strong connection, almost like you could read each other’s minds, even before Feyre obtained the magic to actually do so.

She turned in the doorway, her eyes locking with yours. You smiled slightly and nodded at her.

You would be fine.

It’s not like there’s any way Azriel can hurt you more, what with the bond already destroyed in your chest.

The door snicked shut behind her, though you could still hear their heartbeats lingering in the hallway outside, ready to step in if they heard anything concerning.

“So…” You started, once the two of you had been in silence for a few minutes.

“So… I… I wanted to apologize, Y/N. I wish I could take back my cruel words, and undo the rejection of the bond. I don’t know what I was thinking, moving so quickly,” Azriel said, his voice the saddest that you had ever heard it.

Still, you didn’t say anything.

“I am so, so sorry Y/N. I want to take away your pain, I want to do anything that I can to help you. You are my mate and I have done so much wrong by you. Please, Y/N. Please give me another chance,” he begged.

And it broke you.

Your arms came out from under the blanket without you meaning to, reaching for him-

Your mate.

Your mate who was begging for your forgiveness.

Begging for you.

The broken bond in your chest ached even as his hands met yours, grasping them tightly as he kneeled on the bed before you, tears in his eyes.

“Please, let me try everything I can to repair the bond. Let me earn your trust and love, Y/N.”

You sighed and bit your lip, considering his words, the conviction with which he said them.

“Is… Is there a way to fix the bond?” You asked tentatively, squeezing his hands gently.

“There are ways, yes. They require multiple detailed rituals under the separate phases of the moon, with a priestess’s help. I… I’ve already had a priestess practice the rituals, in case you were to say yes. Of course, we’ll only start when you’re ready.”

You nodded slowly.

You could have your mate.

If you wanted.

“When can we start?”

💙🤍💙🤍💙

A month later, you and Azriel had completed the four rituals required to repair the mating bond.

The priestess had warned you that the bond would likely feel slightly hollow, not quite as strong as they normally do once accepted.

You swore to yourself that you didn’t care as you baked a blackberry cheesecake for your mating ceremony with Azriel- it was the first dessert the two of you had shared in your very first date, while you were still on bed rest after your…

Accident.

You swore to yourself that you didn’t care as you lifted a bite of the cheesecake to Azriel’s mouth as your family watched on, clapping and congratulating the two of you quickly before they winnowed out of the Town House, which Rhys and Feyre had gifted to the two of you.

You swore to yourself that you didn’t care once the mating frenzy had subsided, laying in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, hand clutching at your heart.

Phantoms pains still rang through you every day, rattling your bones. The bond was there, yes, but it had been killed and brought back to life, reanimated in your chest and torturing you in life.

You swore to yourself that you didn’t care as you slid Truthteller across your thigh in the middle of the night while Azriel slept in the next room, needing to feel a pain that was real to distract you from how much you didn’t care that the bond wasn’t whole.

You told yourself that you didn’t care that Azriel wanted you for the bond, and likely the bond alone.

The moments that made you not care were the ones where Azriel’s attentions made the bond flare to life in you, imitating the wholeness that you could have once had.

His soft kisses on your lips and sweet nothings whispered in your ears, gentle scarred hands caressing your own scars, trying to erase every pain that he had caused you.

You swore that you didn’t care as you saw his eyes linger on Elain at family dinners, convinced yourself that you didn’t see longing and lust in his hazel eyes as he took in your elder sister, finally attempting to fulfill her own bond with Lucien.

You did the same as his eyes lingered on every pretty female you passed on your walks through Velaris, wishing that he would look at you with the same heated looks he did for them.

Even as you grew with child, you promised to yourself that you didn’t care that the bond felt like it was dying in your chest, draining you of your energy.

All you had ever wanted was to have a husband and a baby, someone who would love you forever, and a sweet child to raise, to shield from the cruelty of the world.

And of course, you told yourself that you didn’t care when he came home smelling of another female, his clothes slightly out of place and hair tousled while you were on bed rest, the lingering pain from your attempt making you unable to walk on your own.

Azriel was with you during labor, and the bond between the two of you shined the brightest then, with your hand squeezing his, nearly to the point of breaking bones, as you pushed and pushed and pushed, finally rewarded with your beautiful baby girl-

The absolute copy of her father, stunning hazel eyes, thick and curly dark hair, and tiny, fluttering wings on her back.

The labor took so much out of you, the wings having torn your body open, but finally, after hours of healing from Feyre and Madja, you were given the absolute joy of holding your firstborn.

You beamed down at her, enraptured by how sweet and precious and perfect she was, her little fingers curling around one of yours.

So small. So delicate.

You knew that you would protect her with your life, with everything you had. You would never let anyone hurt her, never let anyone compare her to those around her. She would be safe, and loved, and love herself like you had never had the chance to.

So you told yourself that you didn’t care, because she was worth it.

She was worth everything.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria

the 1 Taglist: @blackgirlmagicforever @historygeekqueen @angelbunny222

[mintaikk]

Why Blitzø Likes Stolas

I've made jokes about Blitzø liking Stolas bcuz his type is tall, rich, powerful demons with musical talent, and that's probably kinda true, but I wanna talk about the real reasons Blitzø likes Stolas. Tldr at the end.

I think one of the major reasons Blitzø likes Stolas is how kind, sincere, and affectionate he is. Stolas is always making sure he is okay and is very passionate about litterally everything he does (dramatic little bitch, lol). And while he's ignorant ("my impish little plaything"???), he does mean well. Taking Octavia to Looloo Land to make her feel better, Going full demon mode to save IMP, his attentiveness to Blitzø during his mental breakdown in Seeing Stars, him absolutely adoring Octavia, him helping Ozzie when he gained no real benefit, etc, etc.

Also, expanding more on the affectionate part, Blitzø is shown to not get much affection or love in his life at all. His family situation was a giant mess (his dad literally sold him for 5 bucks and a condom Jesus Christ-), and Stolas is a very loving and affectionate person. Obviously, this is shown with Blitzø, but also with Octavia ('my precious little starfire', always staying patient with Via, even if he can be a bit dismissive, going full demon mode when Blitzø said he lost Via), and even his plants (he raised the flesh-eating plant since he was a kid, he pets the plant, on his insta he called a puprle rose "a handsome little rose"). And yeah, he's going to be affectione with Via, that's his daughter, but in Hell, (or maybe just from Blitzø's perspective, it'a hard to tell honestly) that's shown to be a rarity. So obviously, he's going to admire that about him.

And also, compare that to Blitzø's life. His dad saw him as less than, something happened that made his sister hate him, his mom seemed to be a good parent, but she's dead, his best friend and former crush hated his guts for 15 years, his daughter does care about him but she also mostly just shows anger and annoyance with him, and even Moxxie, who'd I'd argue is his best friend, gets annoyed with him constantly (I would too tbh but this isn't about that). Stolas just being his loving and affectionate self and being so happy to see him and always being so sweet to Blitzø is like a breath of fresh air to him.

Another thing is that Stolas shows clear interest in the things he likes. Take horses as example, bcuz we all know Blitzø is obsessed with them. Most of the time, his friends are pretty passive about it, but Stolas actually indulges him. Some of this is from their instas, but Stolas got him a horse Hoodie, he draws horses with him, and Stolas even got inspired to draw because of Blitzø.

(Also, plz note that in another post he commented that it smells like Stolas, and I want everyone to appreciate how happy he looks in this photo while smelling it again)

Blitzø probably admires Stolas's theatrics as well because despite growing up in a Circus where you were supposed to be dramatic and showy, he was still always taught to ignore or hide his true emotions (Cash ignoring that he didn't want to go to the Goetia Palace because "MONEY"). And while Stolas was raised the same way, he still wears his heart and emotions on his sleeve and is always showing them, whether it be positive or negative

And we all know thst Blitzø has major self hatred issues, but Stolas was genuinely interested in Blitzø as a person. Laughing at his jokes, asking how his day went, and with all of this, you can't help but wonder if Blitzø was figuring out that he did too. I think that's why he was so heartbroken about Ozzie's. Because to him, Stolas hiding his face was just proof that Stolas didn't care. That he was just a little plaything. But, Blitzø liked that Stolas liked him for who he was, and that he didn't have to pretend to be someone different.

Yes, ik Blitzø wasn't here for some of them, and he thinks that Stolas is just faking all of this. BUT, Blitzø can notice things subconsciously, and the stuff that Blitzø wasn't there for was to talk about Stolas's character as well. That's why I wanted to talk about this, to talk about what Blitzø sees in Stolas and his character.

Feel free to add anything if you want! I'd love to hear your guy's opinions, takes, and thoughts on the ship. I'm probably gonna a make a post on why Stolas likes Blitzø at some point, lol

Tldr; Blitzø likes Stolas because he's kind, sincere, loving, affectionate, passionate, caring, dramatic, and likes Blitzø for who he is.

[sailoryooons]

Red | KNJ | (m)

☾ Pairing: Werewolf!Namjoon x f. reader

☾ Summary: For as long as you can remember, your village has been relatively normal. But when people begin to turn up dead right after a group of newcomers arrive, pieces of your past start to fall into place, and something feels familiar - particularly the quiet man who can't take his eyes off of you.

☾ Word Count: 21,148

☾ Genre: Supernatural, thriller, smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Fantasy violence, light depections of murder and animal attacks, mentions of gore, discussions about community displacement and violence, Yoongi is an asshole, animal attacks, depictions of blood, tbh reader and Namjoon don’t know each other THAT well when they fuck so idk, implied protecting from a far but not in a stalker way, explicit language, intense sequences of fear and anxiety, reader is attacked by a wolf, there is a mention of animals being hurt/killed but not in explicit details, dead bodies, arson, sexually explicit content invluding vaginal fingering, nipple play, vaginal penetration, a little bit of mention of fluids but not really. 

☾ Published: Sunday, January 21 2024

☾ A/N: I wish I could explain to you how this got to be so long. I wrote it over several weeks and each day I picked it back up, I just kept adding dialogue and scenery and setting. Like half of this isn’t even Namjoon and reader reacting - what was I doing? I wish I knew! I hope you like my spin on Red Riding Hood anyway! I tried to do this in a way that it doesn’t seem creepy that Namjoon was silently looking out for reader but like… I could understand if someone finds it creepy I am so sorry lmfao.  I did read through this to edit but I 100% missed stuff because I'm a rougher editor and this is unbeta'd.

☾ A/N 2: This is a Red Riding Hood Retelling that is similar in vibe to the 2011 Red Riding Hood movie directed by Catherine Hardwicke.

 Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Make Me Your Villain Collab | Taglist

Father always said not to go into the woods at night. Like him, though, the woods have always called to you, feeling like a second home. You’ve never been able to explain it, and you’ve stopped trying to. 

It’s a little chilly outside, the first breath of harvest air nipping at your skin. In a few weeks, it will be freezing outside, forcing you into cloaks and furs. 

Grass crunches beneath your feet as you slip through the small yard and toward the tree line. Your house already sits at the edge of the village, the dark trees stretching high above the rooftops. Soon the trees will be dusted in snow, but for now, they sway gently in the autumn breeze, turned silver by the moonlight. 

You’ve always loved the woods. The sounds of the crickets singing and rabbits dashing underfoot are calming, the smell of sticky pine and fresh air invigorating. You especially love them at night, hidden beneath boughs and walking through the shafts of moonlight that slip through the trees. 

The best part is that you don’t feel so alone out here. There is a feeling you cannot place each time you enter the woods, like you’re a little closer to discovering yourself. You’ve been chasing that feeling since you were a little girl, hungry for finding whatever it is that drives you out here. 

Hands tucked into your pockets, you walk the same route you always follow. It isn’t deep into the woods - you aren’t silly enough to believe you’re safe alone in the dark - but it’s enough of a walk to clear your head. 

Howls echo up into the night, a wolf pack on their hunt. The sound of them makes the hair on your arms stand on end.

The wolves don’t come very close to the village anymore since the vicious wolf hunts when you were barely old enough to remember them. The relationship between the men of your home and the wolves in the wood is violent, a chill cooling your skin every time they’re mentioned by one of your neighbors. 

A terrible howl splits the night. You feel your body go cold with fear, warmth leaching out of you as you press yourself against a tree, heart in your throat. The sound is something like a howl laced with utter anguish, chilling you down to the marrow. It tapers off into a whimper before falling silent again. 

Pressed against the tree, you wait. Your heart is beating so harshly that it feels like you might vomit in fear. Soft whimpering drifts on the wind. You hold your breath and strain your ears. It almost sounds like an injured dog.

It tugs at your heartstrings. You bite your lip, weighing your options. The noise sounded like it came from the south a little off of your path and toward the ravine that splits the part of the woods that is relatively safe from the deeper part where the animals are more lethal and more frequent. You could easily find your way back if you made it to the ravine, and as the whimpering vanishes entirely, you can’t help but imagine an animal in pain. 

The most difficult part about working with Dr. Kim at the veterinary clinic is always the animals that he can’t fix. You’ve held the hands of loved ones who couldn’t save their aging dogs, and you’ve hushed lame horses as Dr. Kim prepared draughts to send them to sleep and then to death. 

Pivoting, you turn and march toward the initial sound. It may perhaps be the single worst idea you’ve ever had, but you suddenly don’t care. You’ve worked with Dr. Kim enough to know how to triage animal wounds, and the thought of leaving something alone and suffering replaces any sort of fear you originally had. 

You’re careful not to lose your footing as the ground slopes steadily as you get closer to the ravines and canyons of the south side. Leaves shift underneath your feet as you go. It feels overly loud in a forest that is suddenly so quiet, only filled with the softest sound of labored breathing.

A small dip in the ground catches you off guard. You gasp, a scream stuck in your throat as you lose your footing and slide down the slope, your back and ass hitting the ground hard as you slide, leaves hissing underneath you. You scramble to grab a hold of something, but the hill isn’t very high and you hit the bottom of it quickly.

Heart pounding, you lay in the damp leaves for a second, panting, hand pressed to your heart as it rattles under your palm. Just as the fear settles down, a growl makes your blood run cold. Slowly, you begin to turn your face toward the left. You realize you’ve slid down a dell, and a few yards from you is a large, shivering form covered in fur.

You blink. Once. Twice. You realize that the large mound of fur is a creature - a wolf. It lays on the ground shaking, a ride of jet black hair standing up on its spine, hackles raised. The wolf’s ears are pinned back and its yellow eyes are wild, nearly consumed by the dark pupils drinking you in. Its teeth are bared, foam and drool lining pink gums as it snares, nose twitching. 

It’s the biggest wolf you’ve ever seen. You can’t move. You can only stare at it, wondering why it continues to snarl and stare at you, but not move. Your eyes rove its trembling form from maw to tail, and you realize its front leg is wet and held at an odd angle.

“Oh,” you gasp, realizing that the wolf’s foot is stuck in a claw trap. “I’m so sorry. I… can I help you?”

The wolf stops growling for a moment as if it understands. You stare with wide eyes, not daring to move as it assesses you. It leans toward you and sniffs, the sound of snuffing loud in the silence of the dell. For a few moments, you just watch as the beast regards you. 

Then, it chuffs and looks at its own foot, whining. You sit up slowly in amazement. The creature watches you with what you can only describe as a caution. You get up carefully and make your way toward the wolf. It watches your every movement. It can surely smell your fear as you get a few feet away, crouching down with your hands held out to let it know you’re not going to cause harm. 

You pause, waiting for permission to examine the wolf’s foot. It gazes at you and for a moment, you lose yourself in that burning, golden gaze. The wolf’s eyes are so human that it’s hard to see it as a simple beast. There is something alive and intelligent there.

As if sensing that you’re waiting for the all-clear, the wolf chuffs and lowers its head toward its foot, gesturing. You smile a little at that, marveling at the communication skills. Carefully, you look at the trap around the wolf’s foot. It’s a metal contraption that is pressure-engaged, with metal teeth. You cringe seeing the red on matted fur and metal.

“You must have stepped on the pressure plate,” you tell the wolf, though it probably doesn’t understand. You gesture to the round plate at the center of the trap. “It would have been in a circle and when stepped on, snapped closed like jaws.”

The wolf whines and bows its head. You wince. “They’re really strong,” you admit, chewing on your lip. “I don’t think I can pull it apart all the way, but I might be able to open it enough just for a moment for you to pull out your leg. Can you do that?” 

A huff. Somehow, you think if it could, the wolf might roll its eyes. Your mouth twitches in an almost smile as you get onto your knees, wiping sweaty hands on your pants. This close to the beast, you realize just how large it is. 

“This is going to hurt,” you insist. “Please… Please don’t bite me, okay? I want to help you.” 

The wolf lowers its head until it's lying on the ground, gold eyes watching you. Its muscles are tense and the hair along the ridge of its back is still standing, afraid and alert. 

“Okay. I’m just… I’m just going to touch the trap and try to get a grip first, okay?” The wolf doesn’t answer. It blinks at you, waiting. Licking your lips, you whisper, more to yourself than anything, “Okay, I can do this.”

Slowly, you reach out toward the wolf’s injured foot. You flick your gaze over to the wolf looking for a reaction. It just watches you, though you feel tension. The metal is wicked cold to the touch. You hiss and the creature flinches a little, a whistle-whine escaping its nose. You mutter an apology, fingers pressing to the ridges of the cold metal. 

It’s slippery with blood. You chew on your lip, prodding your finger in the space between the metal teeth on the edges where it’s not clamped around the wolf’s paw. You wiggle your finger a little, testing the strength of the closed jaws of the trap. It doesn’t budge and you curse. 

Sweat beads on the back of your neck, freezing in the cool air. You lift your other hand, very carefully trying to find a good grip on either side of the jaws to pry them open. The movement jostles the trap a little, the wolf snarling in pain. You flinch and rip your hands away, looking at it. Gold eyes burn and the wolf huffs, as though telling you to be more careful.

“Sorry,” you mutter. “I’m nervous and it’s hard to get a grip on it.” The wolf snorts. You glare at it. “I’m sorry, do you want to do this instead?” Your only answer is a rumble as it looks the other direction. “That’s what I thought.”

Sighing, you turn your attention back to the metal. Anyone a little stronger and older could probably pull it open. Seokjin for sure could - even Hoseok who is as old as you are, but plenty stronger. You try not to think about how weak you are, and instead wiggle your fingers through the gaps in the teeth.

The cool metal stings your hands. It’s not a great grip and your fingers are placed in bad positioning due to the teeth of the trap. Taking in a big breath, you try to pull the metal jaws apart. 

Nothing happens and you let your breath out, panting lightly as you stop trying to pull. The wolf flicks its tale but makes no other sound. With the way you’re gripping the jaws, you realize that pulling it apart is going to be difficult. It would rely on your forearms to peel the metal jaws backward… But if you were to push down and push apart, you could use your body weight as an extra boost. It would be pushing the jaws apart from above instead of trying to pry them apart with sheer strength.

Leaning high on your knees, you position yourself straight over the trap, your weight settling in on your forearms. You take another deep breath and this time when you pull, you push your weight down on the trap. For a second, it seems like it’s not going to give. You hiss through your teeth, muscles clenching, fingers burning as your skin presses against the metal as hard as you can stand it.

Then, the jaw opens a little. You grind your teeth harder, the ache in your arms growing as you push as hard as you can. Your forearms are trembling. You feel the vein throbbing in your neck and forehead. Just when you think you’re going to fail, the jaws give way again. You growl, feeling a surge of energy go through you at the small victory and you shove your body weight down on it hard. The springs creak a little and open more.

Little by little, the trap opens up. Your vision pulses red as you pant, strength waning. And then it’s like you hit the let-off point of the contraption, pushing it enough that the rest of the way it just falls open. You let go of the trap and the wolf yanks its leg from it. It now lies open and bloody as you collapse on the ground next to it, breathing hard, breath misting the air. 

Your heart beats in your ears, pulse thrumming in your neck wildly. For a second, you forget all about the wolf. You laugh up to the dark trees, a giddy feeling shooting through you. You did it, even though you didn’t think you would be able to. 

A dark presence alerts you. Slowly, you turn your head to face the wolf. It’s standing almost above you, looking more imposing than it did before. You swallow hard, mouth going dry as it blinks down at you. It favors the injured leg, but stands nonetheless, watching you. 

“Please don’t kill me,” you whisper, limbs trembling not only with exhaustion but fear. 

The wolf doesn’t kill you at all. Instead, it leans its head down and presses its cold, wet nose to your arm. You flinch, squeezing your eyes shut for a minute. Then the beast chuffs, making you peak at it. When you meet its gold eyes, you get the sense it is vaguely amused.

“Oh,” you breathe, relief sagging your aching body. “Cool. You’re not going to kill me.”

Standing, you realize that the wolf is still taller than you. You tilt your head upward, staring. There’s no way this is a normal creature, but you don’t know what else it could possibly be. You recall the legends of werewolves and dire wolves told by the men of your town, but you’re unsure if those are real. 

“Let’s take care of this,” you mutter, grabbing a branch and jamming it into the pressure plate of the trap. It snaps shut with a loud clang, snapping the branch, but otherwise ineffective now that it’s re-sprung. The wolf flinches and whines at the sound, no doubt remembering the feeling of the instrument on its leg. “Sorry.” 

Silence stretches out over the woods, the night growing deeper and cooler. You shiver, rubbing your hands up and down your arms as you turn to the wolf, which watches you keenly. 

“Will you be okay?” the question comes out as a whisper. The wolf huffs and steps forward, pressing its snout to your head. It’s cold and wet, making you shiver as it snuffs against your skin. “Good. I um - should start climbing this hill.”

It swivels its head and turns, waiting. You grin, realizing it will accompany you back up, at least. Though injured, the wolf is able to walk with three legs, the wounded leg lifted off the ground. Its gait is awkward and hobbled, but the two of you make it up the hill together, your breathing labored. 

At the top, moonlight shines through the trees and you both pause. A series of howls goes up in the night, startling you. The wolf looks up, ears twitching as it tilts its head, listening. Slowly, it turns to look at you, gold eyes sparkling. 

“I guess you have to go, huh?” it bows its head once. “Stay safe, okay?” 

The wolf steps forward. Presses its muzzle into your temple and huffs, making you grin. You smell pine and bergamot, pleasant and calming. “Yeah, you’re welcome.” 

Slowly, the wolf clambours off, vanishing into the dark woods, leaving you to hurry home yourself. 

-

“Wear this at all times for protection, especially in the forest,” you murmur, holding the neatly scrawled note. You frown and look down at the fine cloak folded on the dresser. It had appeared overnight as if by magic, a funny feeling flipping your stomach. “Where did you come from?”

The cloak, of course, has no answer. You lift your hand to feel it, breathing out a dreamy sigh. The inside is lined with soft bear fur. Outside is some of the finest cloth you’ve ever seen, gentle but sturdy to the touch and dyed the most delicious shade of scarlet. 

Carefully, you lift the cloak. It’s a little big for your size, but not unwearable. You slip it over your sleeping gown, loving the way the material ripples like blood over your shoulders, the fur lining keeping you warm. It smells like pine and bergamot, making you pause. 

Certainly, a wolf did not bring you a cloak. Still, the timing is quite odd. You don’t know who else could possibly make a cloak so fine in the village, and the smell… you shake your head. A wolf did not bring you a cloak, but it did seem perhaps you had a secret admirer. 

-

THIRTEEN YEARS LATER

“Boo!” You scream and drop the collection of logs in your hands, whirling around. Hoseok bursts into laughter, doubling over as he slaps his hands against his knees, hot breath misting the air. “You should see your face!”

“You rotten bastard!” You growl, picking up a log and throwing it at him. It doesn’t hit him, but he jumps away from it anyway, careful not to let it drop on his toes. “That isn’t funny!”

“It’s a little funny.”

“It’s not!” You crouch down and start picking up the timber. Hoseok at least has the decency to help you, starting with the log you threw at him. “There was another animal attack last night, in case you didn’t know.” 

That makes him pause. “There was?”

“Yes,” you hiss, snatching the last log and standing. “So stop lurking around corners and scaring me. It isn’t funny.” 

“Well, an animal isn’t going to attack you in the village. Unless you’re talking about Mingyu’s fiancee, anyway. That one is feral indeed.” 

You level Hoseok with a look and he gives you a grin. His nose and ears are red from the cold - and maybe a little guilt for scaring you - and he offers to take the timber from your arms. You let him, shoveling it over to him and marching around the front of your house. 

Wind howls between the houses, ripping at the ends of your red cloak. It catches your hood, throwing it up over your head as you shiver and tuck your hands into the fur lining. A shiver rattles up your spine as you kick the snow from your boots and rush inside, Hoseok quick on your heels. 

“So what happened?” Hoseok asks, following you to your room. 

“The Matheson Family,” you mumble. “They were attacked. San went down to collect new saddles his father ordered and found them slaughtered - their hounds too.” 

“They have hunting hounds - what the hell can kill those?”

“Perhaps it’s the wolves again. Dr. Kim was going with the city council to investigate.” 

Hoseok sighs. “The timing isn’t good. It’s about time the traders arrived. What if they bypass us entirely if the road is too dangerous?”

It’s a thought that has been plaguing everyone in the village. Because of the remote location on the north side of the woods, your small spec on the map relies on traders at the beginning of every winter for things that you’ll need to make it through: salt, extra grain and fruits, tools too advanced and large for the local smithy, repairs on houses and wagons. 

Arrival times of traders fluctuate every year. Sometimes there’s a cold snap, burying roads in heavy snow that are unnavigable. Other times, there is unrest in the woods when a rogue band of thieves gets the idea to rob travelers and hide in the woods until the city council sends a team of men to deal with it. 

Now, though, it’s getting into the late period of their arrival. The entire village holds its breath waiting for them, people looking out the open gates down the snowy road hoping to see a courier come ahead to announce the arrival of wagons and troupes of people. 

“Do you really think it’s wolves?” Hoseok asks. “I don’t think I’ve heard of wolf attacks like this since…” 

Hoseok winces. “It’s fine,” you assure him with a smile. “It’s not like I remember that time, much less remember my dad.” 

It’s true. Early memories of your childhood are murky at best. You remember being happy and loving your dad. You remember a period of fear and general uneasiness in the town, wolf attacks rampant and frequent. There had been plenty of men and women who died during that period, including your father.

That was a long time ago, though. For the most part, life in your small village is uninteresting. Some winters are harder than others, like the current season, but you’ve always managed to get by. 

“Do you remember much of that time period?” you ask him quietly. 

“Not really. Just that everyone was afraid. It was a really harsh winter and it drove wolves down from the mountains. I remember it being strange.”

“Strange how?” 

You chew your lip and shake your head, trying to encapsulate the thread of memory you have. Of feeling the tremor of fear in the air, the cold feeling of dread… like something violent was in the village. Something wrong.

“I don’t know. I was so young.”

“Hmm.” 

The talk of wolves makes you think about your wolf. Your lips curve at the memory of how gentle the wolf was, the somber eyes, and the smell of pine and bergamot. 

It would be a lie to say you had not gone out to the woods several times since that night to try and find the beast again. You haven’t seen him since, but you’ve always had a feeling he’s there somewhere. Watching. Waiting. 

“Either way,” Hoseok sighs. “Dad seems worried this winter will be like that time. He’s been doing a lot of will and testament papers at the office. He works late every night and is gone early in the morning.” 

“Really?”

“Want to hear what Mr. Hillshire is leaving for his kids?” Hoseok leans forward, conspiratorial. “You won’t believe it.” 

-

The bell over the door rings as someone enters the salon of Dr. Kim’s veterinary practice, drawing your attention. You straighten when you see San walk in.

“Hi, San,” you greet. “Here to pick up Maple?” 

“Yeah, is that alright? Mom is busy at the shop.” 

“Of course.” You wipe your sweaty hands on your skirts and gesture behind you with your thumb. “I’ll go fetch her. Dr. Kim is on an errand but she’s ready to go.” 

The back of the building with the kennels is quiet. The Choi family cat and two other sleeping dogs are the only occupants of the practice, making it an easy day. Maple is dozing in her kennel, chirping in protest when you open the cage and scoop her into a carrier. She’s a lazy thing, a calico with pretty eyes and a newly stitched ear. 

Carefully you carry her up front. San is standing patiently in the lobby, hands behind his back as he looks around nervously. You raise your brows as you come around the counter, handing over the carrier. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm?”

“You look nervous. It’s just me and the Lowells’ hounds back here.” 

“Oh, yes.” His ears blush pink as he accepts the carrier and steps back. “Just a nervous energy in general. I have been since um…”

Oh. You had forgotten that it was San who discovered the Matheson family disemboweled by some kind of animal. The constable had thought that maybe it was a pack of wolves but was concerned by how big the claw marks and destruction were. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt.

“For what?”

“That you had to see that, I guess? It must have been terrifying.”

“A little,” he admits, looking at his shoes. “I walked the path to the Mathesons all the time. I don’t ever recall seeing something that could… do that.”

“Was it that awful?” 

He nods. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen. Don’t get me wrong, I go on hunting parties. We’ve seen the leftovers from bears and wolves. This was something worse. It felt like…” He shakes his head and looks up at you. “It felt angry.”

“Angry?”

“Yeah. I know that doesn’t make sense. It was probably just a beast coming down from the mountain because it was starving. You know how harsh winters are.” 

You hum in agreement. 

San dismisses himself, thanking you again for helping with the family cat and throwing a wave over his shoulder. You return it half-heartedly, already distracted with thoughts of what the animal attacks could mean.

You think about your wolf and how kind and intelligent it was. You don’t remember ever feeling a sense of impending doom like you do now, a heaviness to the air as you stand idly behind the counter. 

Dr. Kim's return startles you at the counter. You press your hands flat against the top of the desk, leaning up on your tiptoes as you see his son Seokjin enter behind him. Your heart flutters a little at the sight, still overwhelmed by his handsome face. 

Seokjin is tall and broad, with dark hair and a beautiful face. His sharp eyes find you and he gives you a half smile, though there seems to be something on his mind as he follows his father into the backroom, Dr. Kim barely saying hello as he goes, his brows furrowed in deep thought.

The two of them disappear and you watch the door swing shut behind them. Curious, you trail around the counter and softly walk over to the door, pulling it open a smidge.

It’s difficult to pick up on their words, but you can hear Dr. Kim’s timbre speaking in low tones from somewhere in the backroom. You hold your breath and wedge the door open a little more, pressing your ear toward the gap between the frame and the door. 

“... again. They’re going to want to start hunting parties again soon.”

“So what do we do?”

Silence. Then, “Send a message….”

“... brought it on themselves… it’s time to make things right.” 

Behind you, the bell rings at the door. You gasp, letting go of the door to the back room and spin around, heart hammering in your chest. Hoseok stands at the door, raising his brows in question. 

“What are you doing here?” you demand, suddenly angry that he’s startled you and ruined your sleuthing.

“I promised your mom I would walk home with you at the end of your shift, remember? Dangerous out there.” 

You blink and look out the window, realizing that the heavy gray of evening is setting over the road. You hadn’t realized it was so late. 

Nodding, you grab your cloak in a hurry. You pop your head into the back room, both Seokjin and Dr. Kim looking at you as you do. “I’m leaving for the evening, sir. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you for watching the place while I was gone. Tomorrow we have to make a house call to the Marrow farm. Lame horse.”

Seokjin frowns. “Do you think that is wise?” Dr. Kim looks at his son under heavy brows. “With the current conditions.” 

“We’ll be fine.” Something passes between them, son and father locked in a heated gaze. You stand there awkwardly, glancing between the two.

Seokjin breaks his stare from his father and flashes you a grin. “You have someone to walk you home?”

“Yeah, Hoseok is here.” You hug the cloak tighter to your chest and Seokjin’s eyes drop to it. An unreadable expression passes his face before he nods. “Have a good evening!”

“You too.”

Leaving them behind, you head to where Hoseok waits for you, examining drawings of animal skeletons and anatomy. You pull your cloak on, feeling safe and warm under the red material. Hoseok looks up at you, thrusting his thumb at one of the drawings of a horse. “I don’t look like that, right?” 

-

The red cloak tied around you wicks the sweat from the back of your neck. Your fingers work quickly as you tie it, knowing you’re already late to meeting Dr. Kim. Thankfully, you don’t make a habit of being late and you’re sure he won’t mind too much.

Strange dreams had plagued you all night. Images of wolves, blood and mist. Echoes of howling, screaming and thunder. Now as you hurry out of your home and into the wicked wind of winter, you cannot shake a sense of premonition.

Dr. Kim is already on the doorstep when you arrive at the veterinary office, a heavy coat on his shoulders and a bag of tools in his hand. He nods when he sees you and comes down the steps, turning toward the south exit of the village. 

Neither of you speak. Beyond the fact that you don’t think you’d be able to hear Dr. Kim over the howling wind, it doesn’t feel like the kind of trip that requires speaking. The evergreens on either side of the road loom over you, bows heavy with snow. Every so often, a branch cracks with the weight of frozen icicles, making you flinch with the sound.

It feels like you’re being watched. Every so often, you swivel your head this way and that, glancing at the trees. The trunks are too close together and the branches to tangle to see beyond them on either side of the road. Still, your skin tingles from something beyond the cold, you just don’t know what. 

The Marrow farm is only a little over a mile from the main village, but the snow covered roads make it slow going. As you near the edge of where their acres begin, your boots are already heavy with melted slush and your calves and thighs burn from dragging your feet through the path. 

Perhaps it was not a good day to do a house call. 

Passing white-covered gates, you’re thankful that at least the wind has died down as the morning turns into midday. The sun is hidden by clouds, but there is a hint of warmth in the air. The Marrow farm is made up of three buildings: the small house in front, the large barn to the back left where they keep their animals, and a giant silo for grains. 

As you near the house, a loud banging reaches you. Both you and Dr. Kim pause, listening as the sound carries on the wind. It doesn’t sound like hammering, but rather like a door slamming over and over again. 

“Barn door?” you suggest, looking up at Dr. Kim. His dark eyes look at the house, expression grim. “But why would they let it slam relentlessly?” 

“Keep your wits about you,” he murmurs, ignoring your question. “Go to the main house. I’ll go round to the barn. Perhaps they’ve forgotten the appointment.”

No smoke comes from the chimney. No snow is cleared from the footpath to the door. The shutters are closed, which makes sense to keep the cold out. As you approach the steps leading up to the porch, you note that none of the hounds are baying. The Marrow’s have several bloodhounds, all of which keep noisy providence around the threshold of the door. 

Spine tingling, you lift your hand and knock. There’s no answer. You strain your ears, leaning forward for any hint that the Marrow’s or one of their two sons are coming to the door. Not even the dogs alert them of your presence. 

You think about San finding the Mathesons butchered and your stomach drops. You knock again, knuckles stinging with cold as they rap harshly against the wooden door. Tucking your hand back into your cloak, you wait. 

Nothing comes. 

Taking a deep breath, you reach for the door and twist the handle. It opens easily, swinging inward to a cold, empty home. Inside, the air is still and dead. Behind you, the breeze brushes the edges of your cloak and the hood on your head. 

Silence hangs. Licking your lips, you lift a foot. It hands over the threshold, fear making you pause. There is nothing inside the home, and yet you find that you’re utterly terrified of stepping inside. Your stomach knots and for a few moments, you just stand there with your foot in the air, staring with unseeing eyes into the dark interior. 

You step into the room and pause. Nothing happens. The air inside the home is stale, like the doors and windows have not been opened for a few days. The cold is bone deep, clinging to the undisturbed air. You scan the room for any sign of life, but see nothing that stirs. 

Everything looks lived in. There are knitted blankets tossed across the backs of old arm chairs, boots by the door, unlaced and soft with age. Mugs have been turned upside down and placed on a towel near the basin for drying, and there are dice on the kitchen table. 

Navigating slowly, you move to the hall with bedrooms. Doors hang open, revealing unmade beds and clothes on the floor. Here too, the air feels undisturbed. You hear the breeze outside and the soft creak of the house, but nothing else makes a sound, save for the loud beating of your own heart. 

Shivering, you make your way to the front of the home. Something foul hangs in the air and you want to be rid of the feeling, quickening your steps to leave through the front door and-

Fear stabs deep into your stomach when you see the wolf standing in the doorway. It stands half in the home, half out, only the front two paws over the threshold. The beast barely fits in the door frame, wide as two men standing side by side and tall as a horse. 

You don’t move. It stares at you with bright, burning eyes. Its fur is dark, though there is a jagged ring of light fur around the right, front paw. You swear you smell pine and bergamot. Something nudges at the back of your mind as the two of you stand off - and it clicks into place.

“You,” you breathe. “You’re the wolf I helped!” 

For a moment, the bright yellow eyes stare at you. They’re unreadable, and yet… emotive. Intelligent. Understanding. The wolf dips its snout in a nod. 

“What are you doing here? Where are the Marrows?” 

The wolf’s ears flicker. Slowly, it backs out of the house. Throwing caution to the wind, you rush after him, nearly tripping over a wolfskin rug in the home.

Outside, the wolf stands below the porch. You step on the porch and pull up short, heart racing as you see the pack of wolves standing in front of the home.

The wolves are a variety of colors and sizes. You dare not move your head, but you scan them with your eyes, drinking in the different creatures. The only thing that they have in common is that they are freakishly large. 

Your wolf - for in your mind he’s yours - stands in front of you. He growls, hair on his spine raising as he regards the other wolves. There’s a silent standoff of sorts, the wolf you saved facing the others. You cannot understand their body language, but the air seems charged. 

The smell of smoke is in the air. You don’t dare look for the source, too afraid to do anything to disrupt the standoff. Breathing in deeply, you think you smell cedar. Oil. Something else that you can’t identify. 

Footsteps crunch the snow. You whip your head to the side, a warning on your tongue as Dr. Kim rounds the house, a haunted expression on his face. He stops abruptly, looking at the display in front of him behind frosted glasses. He says nothing - does nothing but glance between you, the wolf in front of you, and the others. 

Finally, one of the other wolves chuffs and shakes, dispelling snow. It has an all white coat and intense, dark eyes that look at you with… annoyance, if wolves can look annoyed. It turns to leave and the others follow - all five of them - as the white wolf leads them at a loping trot toward the silo and the woods beyond.

Your wolf turns to peer at you, ears flicking before it breaks off into a run, trailing after its pack to leave you and Dr. Kim standing in silence, watching them go. 

Slowly, you turn to Dr. Kim. He scrutinizes you, eyes squinted. “Where did you get that cloak?” 

You look down at the rich, red cloth. “I… well it just appeared, one day when I was younger. I don’t know.”

He regards you suspiciously. “I see. Come. We must leave right away.”

Dr. Kim begins walking at a fast pace back toward town, clutching his tool case. “Wait! Where are the Morrows?” 

Instead of answering, Dr. Kim continues on. You scramble after him, careful not to slip on the icy stairs. The wind picks up and you smell a fire again, making you turn back as you try to catch up. You almost stumble over your feet, eyebrows shooting up as you see orange flames consuming the barn. 

“Dr. Kim!”

Again, he says nothing. You stop and stare, watching as the fire eats away at the barn. The smoke burns black. Fueled by oil, you think. Looking over your shoulder, you watch Dr. Kim’s retreating back and wonder what exactly it is that he’s done. 

“Did you set that fire?” you demand, chasing him. He gives you a withering look. “What is going on?”

“Speak nothing of this,” he snaps. “We arrived here to make a housecall and discovered that the barn was on fire. We suspect that Mr. Marrow was burning to melt the snow around the barn and that the barn caught. The Marrow family died inside trying to put out the fire.”

“But the wolves-”

“Do not mention the wolves, girl.”

“Did they kill the Marrows?” His jaw works but he doesn’t answer. “Did they kill the Mathesons?” 

“This village has a complicated history,” he says finally. He pulls his coat tighter. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I do expect you to stay out of it. Say nothing of the wolves and stay away from them. You’ll make it through winter.”

-

Two weeks pass, the secret heavy on your tongue. You work with Dr. Kim as though nothing happened, and when people ask about the Marrow farm, you recite vague details. You don’t know why you do it but… the image of the wolf - your wolf - floats in your mind each time you spit out the lie. 

Thoughts plague you as Hoseok lounges on the porch of the office that belongs to Hoseok’s father, who acts as the town’s scribe and legal affairs recorder. A sudden warm day has brought everyone outdoors, lounging on their porches and trying to take advantage of the melting snow around the buildings. The streets are muddy and murky as kids run by, feet splashing. 

A group of men prowl around the outskirts of the village. Sun shines through the slats of the overhang in front of the inn, warming where you lean on the porch railing. Hoseok rattles on about gossip he’s heard from his mother’s tea parties and his father’s work on will and testaments with the growing fear of death in the village. 

“Plagues, serial killings, blood feuds and animal attacks,” Hoseok sighs, staring up at the ceiling where he lies. “Good for father’s business. Bad for my cramping hand trying to help him.” 

“Hmm,” you hum noncommittally, thoughts lost as you stare out into the street with unseeing eyes.

Shouts make you flinch. You stand rod straight, gripping the railing as you look for the source of the disruption. Hoseok stands up immediately, joining you at the railing as the pair of you lean to look toward the entrance to the town. 

At first, you think that it’s about another wolf attack. People rush into the street, looking toward the commotion. Then you see it. Gleeful cheers spring up to the buildings closest to the town’s entrance as the first few traders enter the road. Your heart soars when you see donkeys pulling a cart behind them, followed by more people carrying packs and towing small carts. 

“The traders!” You breathe, feeling a sigh of relief sweep through you. “They’ve made it!” 

Excitement ripples through the village. People come flocking from the buildings to welcome cart after cart full of people. Some traders tow full carriages with riders at the front, the shutters on their carriages tied shut, hiding their wares inside. 

Hoseok lounges back down, letting out a sigh of relief. You feel the same, leaning on the railing again to watch as the carts are towed down the road, pulling down different streets to set up shop and find accommodations. 

Most of the traders look vaguely familiar to you - you see the Robin’s with their cloth cart and Morty with his towering carriage of unusual wares and charms. The Yang twins set off small, popping fireworks from the back of their cart, making the children squeal. 

Something catches your eye. “There are more traders than usual,” you tell Hoseok, frowning as your eyes settle on the large men who walk among the carts, all of whom wear weapons belts and look from side to side as they walk. “I think they’re warriors, Hoseok.”

“Warriors?” he laughs. “Strange.”

“No really, there are several men with blades at the hip and bows on the back. They look… guarded.”

He tilts his head, eyeing where your eyes flit from person to person. “Perhaps the road is as hard as we suspected this year.” 

You hum in agreement, watching as the caravans stop and unload, the muddy streets filling with people and chatter and bubbling with excitement. It feels like the bubble of anxiety looming over the town has popped - at least temporarily - relieving the pressure that had been building with every passing day. 

Leaning against the rail, you’re content to observe. All manner of people and things are pulled from carts. Vendors start setting up right away, people forming lines for ingredients, cloth, and wares. The largest line of all is for weapons and metal tools, Old Man Heo barely has time to park his cart before the men of the village ask how much for iron arrowheads and blades. 

A shiver goes through you as your eyes sweep back toward the town entrance where more people pour in. Fewer caravans come through - now it’s just people with pack mules or bags over their shoulders. 

The hairs on your arm stand up when you see him. Wind lifts the edge of your cloak, making it flutter around you. You watch as he walks down the main street with the other travelers, eyes flicking around as he drinks in the buildings and the crowd of villagers coming to welcome the traders. 

As though he senses your staring, his head snaps to you. You feel frozen to the spot, your fingers tightening on the rail as you meet his eyes. They’re unfathomably dark and yet… a tingle of familiarity slithers up your spine. 

He stares at you in turn. You’re sure he’s looking at you, paused near the cart he stands next to, dark gaze focused on where you stand on the porch. 

You’ve never seen him.  You’re sure of it. You’d remember a handsome face like that anywhere. His long, dark hair is pushed back from his face, revealing a sharp jawline, a strong nose, and intense eyes. His lips are red from the cold - pretty against tan skin.

He’s tall. Taller than most men in the village and broad, with strong shoulders and thick arms, though it’s hard to tell underneath his tunic. Like the other hardy men accompanying traders, he has a weapons belt snug around his waist and the bulk of his frame implies that he knows how to use them. 

The man doesn’t break eye contact. His mouth begins to tilt in what you think might be the start of a smile when Hoseok sits up abruptly, startling you. You break eye contact, looking at Hoseok who bites into an apple, offering you one. 

“You frightened me,” you snap, a little irritated at being distracted. When you glance back up at the man, his attention is elsewhere. 

“What were you staring at anyway?” he asks, crunching bits of apple. 

“Nothing,” you murmur, eyes on the flexing back of the man as he helps unload a wagon near the inn. Something niggles at the back of your mind. I know you. “Nothing at all.” 

“Want to visit the vendors later when they’re all set up? I would love to get some spiced wine and listen to Marla’s stories tonight.”

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation. “Let’s do just that.” 

-

Every minute that passes by feels like an eternity. Incurable energy simmers under the surface as you wait for the day to fade to evening. You clean the entire house, you collect wood from outside, you dress and then change into something else, and you ultimately end up pacing back and forth in your room while you wait for Hoseok to arrive. 

Your thoughts are consumed by the mystery man you had seen earlier. His handsome face swims in your memory. The clear image of his face is accompanied by some feeling you cannot identify, something that almost feels like nostalgia. How can you feel nostalgia for someone you don’t know? 

Hoseok finally arrives, letting himself into your house cheerily. The brief respite from winter is already bleeding away, the wind carrying a painful promise as it lifts your hood outside. The traders, it seems, arrived at the perfect time, the cloudy sky promising snow in the morning once more. 

Energy sizzles in the air. It’s as though the momentary fear of the wolf attacks is momentarily forgotten with the arrival of the vendors and travelers. The noise echoes from every street, torches, and fires lighting up the alleyways and down as people hang lamps in the windows and carts string up tea lights. 

Though you’re nervous, you are temporarily distracted as Hoseok pulls you through a tangle of carts toward Sal’s Sweets. Your stomach grumbles when you catch the scent of melting sugar and sweet confections, joining the line at Hoseok’s side to pick up hot, sticky sweets. 

With hot, sweet rolls drizzled in honey in hand, you and Hoseok explore the vendor carts. It is an explosion of color and lights, glittering jewelry hanging from displays, hot meats sizzling in pants over fires, the flash of powder and light as the Yang twins set off more fireworks, and the smell of spices as you pass by herb carts and tents. 

Everywhere you go, you see the men from before, looming near carts with weapons and steely expressions. But not even the eerie sight of them can bring down the spirits of the villagers, kids running with new kites and jars full of fireflies. 

As you stand in line with Hoseok who wants new inkwells, you listen to passing chatter. From what you gather, it was a hard trip this way on the caravans this year. The winter was just as harsh on the road as it was in the village, and the traders' voices become quiet when they talk about thieves and monsters in the woods.

You exchange a glance with Hoseok and he nods. Wolves. 

Wordlessly, you wait as Hoseok points out the inks that he wants. You begin to crane your neck, looking for the familiar stranger that you had seen before. The square is crowded and packed tight with people, making it nearly impossible to make out much beyond a few feet in front of you.

You spot Dr. Kim walking next to Seokjin, both of their heads bowed as they speak to one another. You narrow your eyes, remembering the way Dr. Kim had silenced you at the Marrow farm. You watch them as they head toward the road that the veterinary practice is on, pausing as a man pushes off the wall to join them.

It’s him you realize. You recognize the broad shoulders and the dark hair as he turns his back to you, walking with the Kims down the road. You don’t even have to think twice.

“Hey,” you tug Hoseok’s sleeve. “I’m going to go see Dr. Kim about something really quick. I’ll meet you at the inn?”

“Sure.” He frowns. “Is it safe to go alone?”

“With all of these people?” You’re already backing away and shrugging. “Definitely.” 

Without waiting for Hoseok to respond, you turn on your heel and rush into the crowd. The bodies of people immediately swallow you. The sound and sights and smells become a blur as you push through the crowd, shouldering people aside. You get some nasty looks from the force at which you move, but they immediately forget you as more people press in.

Less people pass you by as you walk up the street, pulling your cloak in tight. The lights in front of the building are off. You creep up the stairs and try the handle, finding it locked. It doesn’t matter, you sneak around the back of the building to the rear entrance and press your ear to the door. When you hear nothing, you try the handle and it twists.

Victorious, you open the door and slide through. The hallway is narrow with four doors on the right leading to examination rooms and two doors on the left. The first door leads to the kennel area where you hear voices. The second leads to the front lobby and desk.

The front lobby is the safest option, lest you get caught eavesdropping in the hallway when they leave. Carefully, you creep by the door, holding your breath and praying the floor doesn’t creak. Your heart pounds as you inch past the door, hearing deep voices on the other side as you go by. 

Clearing the door, you hurry into the lobby and to the door behind the desk that leads to the kennels. Crouching down low to hide yourself from anyone walking by the windows, you carefully pull the door open, unwilling to open it any further than the width of your index finger. Pressing your ear to the open gap, you listen.

“We talked about discretion,” Dr. Kim says, his voice frustrated. “This isn’t discretion. This is harassment and fear-mongering.”

“I told you,” a deep, smooth voice answers. You assume it must belong to the stranger and you shiver, eyes fluttering as the sound of it washes over you. “It isn’t my decision to make. I do not lead. Yoongi made it very clear how he wishes to proceed.” 

“Yoongi is a lunatic.”

“He’s the alpha.”

You frown. Alpha? You’re familiar with the concept of alphas in packs of dogs and herding animals, but you don’t know what that has to do with people or who Yoongi is. 

“The hunts will begin tomorrow.”

You think Dr. Kim means the hunting for the wolves. It makes sense now that the traders are in town and they can stock up on weapons. 

“As is the way of things,” the stranger answers with a sigh. “You know why Yoongi has chosen this path.”

“Is revenge worth it?”

“Perhaps your kind do not understand.” The stranger’s voice hardens. You wonder what he means by your kind. “You have one foot in the forest, one in the village.” 

“We understand, but we’re also not reckless.” Charged quiet hangs in the air. You hold your breath, your heart thundering in your chest, waiting for the sound of footsteps at the end of a conversation. “Why are you here, Namjoon? You came alone.”

Namjoon. The name washes over you, a warm feeling like the first spray of summer rain. It must be the stranger's name. 

Namjoon answers, “There is… a protected here. But I still fear for them. Yoongi and the others are angry - I wish to further keep them from harm.”

A frown twists your mouth. This Namjoon is here to protect someone from Yoongi. You wonder what this has to do with Dr. Kim. Could… Perhaps someone is using the wolves as tools? You’ve certainly seen a hunter train wolves or wolfhounds before, though it’s a dangerous business. 

Dr. Kim sighs. “That is the only saving grace of you being here, I’m afraid. Seokjin and I cannot help you. Not without exposing ourselves. I’ve already done what I can.”

“You have my greatest thanks for that. You and yours will always be safe. And not just because of your blood.”

Shuffling makes you lean away from the door immediately. You slowly drop it back in place before crawling over to the desk and hiding under it, straining your hearing as the footsteps go into the back hall and out of the back door. You remain there long after you hear the back door shut, waiting just in case they’re still outside.

When you’re sure they’ve gone, you crawl out from underneath the desk and hurry into the hall and out the back door. The alley is empty when you stick your head out, sagging with relief. You hurry out and close the door behind you, spinning around and-

“You know, most people who don’t want to be seen don’t sneak around in a red cloak.”

The man - Namjoon - looms over you, looking down at you with an amused expression. Your scream is cut off when he winces and cups your mouth with his hand. “Well don’t scream! You’ll summon Giho and Seokjin back this way. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Namjoon waits for a moment, your chest heaving as you nod, signifying that you won’t scream for help. Maybe it’s silly, but you trust him not to hurt you. At the least, he is there to protect someone in the village, so he doesn’t seem like he’s there for nefarious reasons.

When he drops his hands, you press yourself against the door, trying to put a little distance between you. Namjoon’s presence is demanding, a tickle prickling at the base of your spine as you look up at him, mystified. 

He’s so beautiful. Up close, you can make out his features far better than earlier that day. His eyes are dark and framed by beautiful, silken lashes. His nose is broad and his jaw is sharp. A dimple appears when he gives you a lopsided grin, dark eyes sizing you up.

The same sense of familiarity from earlier comes back to you, and though you’ve never seen his face before, you swear you know him. Warmth radiates from him, the delicate smell of pine and bergamot reaching you. He feels like… yours. Like some part of him completes you. It is the strangest feeling. 

“You okay, Red?” he asks, tone earnest. You furrow your brows at the term and he grins - genuine and warm. “Your cloak. It’s a very bright red. Pretty, though.”

“Thank you?”

He raises a brow. “Are you asking me?”

“I’m… you’re awfully close.”

Namjoon takes a few steps back from you. You suddenly regret saying something as his warmth vanishes, replaced by the cool wind. “Sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“Why didn’t you alert Dr. Kim if you knew I was snooping.”

“You don’t seem to be a threat. Plus, he’s a bit of a grouch. It didn’t seem worth it to hear him chastise a pretty girl.”

You flush. “How do you know the Kims?”

“Family friends.” 

“What were you all talking about?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Just because I’m not chastising you for listening to our private conversation doesn’t mean I’m going to divulge the details of said private conversation.”

You divert your gaze, feeling flushed. He has a point, but if he’s put out by your line of questioning or your eavesdropping, he doesn’t show it. “Come on,” Namjoon says. “Let’s go back to the square. I need a drink and it’s dangerous to walk around right now.”

“Because of the wolves?”

He stares at you. “Because it’s dark and there are a bunch of strangers in your town, and you’re a woman alone. In the dark.”

“You’re a stranger in my town.”

His grin spreads and his dimple deepens. Your stomach flutters. You’re not unaffected by him, a little dizzy and nervous when he sticks out a hand. “Namjoon. I’m a part of the Kim family.”

“Like… Dr. Kim?” you ask, reaching out your hand and giving him your name.

“We’re related, in a way. Pretty name. I think I’ll stick with Red, though.”

Namjoon takes off walking. For a second, you just stand and stare at him. He shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn’t look back. You lick your lips, heart pounding. You cannot shake the sense of something peculiar about him, something familiar. He’s a Kim - perhaps you know him.

Determined to find out, you take off after him, scurrying to catch up. You fall into step with him and look up to find him smirking down at you before focusing back on the growing noise and lights of the main square. 

“Have you been here before?” you ask, watching him from the corner of your eye. He shakes his head and you frown. “I feel like I know you.”

“Perhaps I have one of those faces?”

“No, I’d remember a face like yours.”

Namjoon turns to you, arching a brow. “A face like mine, huh?” 

Multiple fire pits dot the streets, groups of people clustered around them to keep warm as the chill seeps back into the village. The inn is bustling with people, the door propped open with a chair as people walk in and out with platters of food and tankards in hand. Multiple villagers have pulled out tables and chairs from their homes, setting them up in the street. 

It feels good. The air hums with euphoria and the promise of better days ahead, like suddenly there are not several families mourning their loved ones. The atmosphere reminds you of a festival, and you suppose it kind of is a festival. 

The smell of burning fat and ale hits your nose as you walk into the inn. Voices roar over one another and the workers are busy behind the bar. A fireplace crackles in the far corner where you spot Hoseok guarding an extra chair. 

“I fear this is where we part ways,” Namjoon announces over the din of voices. “Try not to do any more eavesdropping tonight.” You hesitate, wanting to protest. There are a million burning questions you have for him. He must see it in your face, because he smiles and says, “We’ll run into one another again. Don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

You were actually, and you know he knows by his smirk. “Goodnight, Red.”

You watch Namjoon go. He moves toward where the innkeeper stands at a podium looking over reservations, blending into the crowd. Just before he reaches the podium he glances over his shoulder at you, catching you watching. He shoots you a grin and you scowl, pivoting on your heel to charge toward Hoseok. 

Hoseok raises his eyebrows when he sees you storm over to him and yank the chair out from the table, sitting down in a huff. Without a word, you snatch his tankard of ale and take several, cold gulps before setting it on the table, letting it wash through you. 

“Who was that you came in with? And then stormed over here after speaking to?”

“Some relative of the Kims,” you mutter. “I find him very… frustrating.”

“He’s very handsome.”

You glare at Hoseok and see the beginning of a wicked smile. “And frustrating.” 

He lifts his cup, shrugging. “Cheers to being frustrating.”

-

A scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You lurch up from bed, head spinning as you try to gather your wits about you. Blankets tangle your limbs as you try to peel them from sweaty skin. Another scream makes you stumble out of bed, the world tilting on its axis as your body tries to catch up with your sudden lucidity. 

In the main room of your home, your mother is stumbling through the kitchen too, lighting a candle and grabbing a holder. You feel relief as you realize the screaming isn’t coming from your home, but your neighbor’s.

Together, you and your mother rush out into the cold in nightgowns, not bothering with shoes or coats. The cold is bitter, immediately stinging your skin as the Liang family joins you in running to the Hutch family home where it sounds like Mrs. Hutch is screaming like a wild animal in her house. 

“It’s Leanne,” your mother breathes, words turning to steam in the air. 

“Come on,” you urge, pulling your mother as you go, driven by the shrieks.

The front door hangs open as Mr. Liang enters the home first, an ax in hand. It occurs to you that neither you nor your mother have weapons, but Mrs. Hutch has always been kind to your mother, making the both of you charge into the darkness of her home empty-handed.

A metallic tang hits you immediately. You recoil, recognizing the stench of blood immediately. Villagers spill into the home behind you, alerted to the wailing coming from the bedroom. With torches and candles in hand, you spot the red on the dark wood floor in the hallway. 

Mr. Liang stands in the doorway of the bedroom, staring with a haunted gaze at what he sees there. Your mother pushes through the people in the home to look over his shoulder, her hand flying to her mouth as she gasps. 

“Oh Leanne,” she murmurs in horror, shoving by Mr. Liang.

You don’t go to the room. The smell and the weeping coming from the bedroom give you an inkling of what lay inside. You stand in the living room as people fill the hall, gasping and murmuring. Someone shouts to wake the constable. 

“Why?” Mrs. Hutch screams in her room, the despair in her voice rattling your bones. “Why?”

“His throat has been cut,” someone murmurs from the hall. “Murdered in bed.” 

Murdered? That throws you for a loop. You had assumed somehow it was an animal attack but… you shiver. Murder is different. 

Mr. Liang begins shooing people out of the house. You slink out into the cold and hurry to your own home, bare feet freezing in the cold, wet earth. Your mother stays with Mrs. Hutch, leaving you alone.

The dark presses in on you, every creak of a floorboard making you jump. The shadows seem menacing now and you’re quick to find and light a candle, orange light flooding the home. 

Cloth and candle in hand, you return to your room to wipe the cold mud from your feet, skin still burning from the frigid air. Voices carry in from outside, the entire town waking and gathering as the shock of murder ripples through the streets, a stone in a pond.

With sleep nowhere near possible for the remainder of the night, you get dressed. You pull on thick woolen pants, a tunic, and multiple socks, sticking your feet in your boots. Your cloak goes next, fastening it around your throat as you look out your bedroom window. 

Your home sits at an angle in a row of houses that circle the village like a ring. You can see the wall of the home next to you, and a sliver of the backyard as well. It’s that tiny space in the backyard that catches your eye, watching as someone moves from the edge of the home out of sight. 

Heart in your throat, you grab a candle and run outside. The crowd in front of the Hutch’s has grown, but you ignore them, skirting around your house to the alleyway between you and your neighbor. Nothing catches your eye as you run to the backyard, swiveling as you search in the darkness for the shadow you saw. 

The wind howls, drowning out the voices in the street. The treeline behind the houses is dark. You squint your eyes and lift the candle in your hand, the flame barely flickering as the wind makes the trees sway. There is nothing in the darkness and you begin to turn when you see a shadow in the tree line. 

It’s barely there - perhaps a trick of the light, even. You take a step forward, boots crunching in the snow. A gust of wind makes your cloak snap at your ankles, candle going out and leaving you without a source of light. You had not realized how dark it was without it, the shadow vanishing from your line of sight. 

Fear nestles in the pit of your stomach. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs as your limbs lock, realizing how stupid it was to come outside if there was a killer among the trees. Soft snow crunches somewhere close to you. You squeeze your eyes shut, tucking your chin to your chest as panic makes you shut down, unable to move and-

“Red.”

Namjoon’s voice makes you spin around. He holds a torch level with his head, the flame casting an eerie glow on his face. For a moment, he looks lupine and terrifying, your heart nearly stuttering to a halt. 

Then his face twists in concern. “What are you doing out here alone?”

“What are you doing?”

“Dr. Kim sent me over to check on you. No one answered the door so I came around back.”

“Why?”

Namjoon seems confused. “Why did I come around back or why did he send me?”

“Both.”

“I could see the light of your candle and because a murder has just happened.”

You relax a little at the logic in his answer. Snow begins to fall from the sky. You look up at the moonless black,  thick clouds floating as the bits of snow drift on the breeze. You shiver and look back to the trees, seeing nothing but tightly packed pines. Still, there is an instinctual sense of trepidation that sits heavy in your gut.

“Come on,” Namjoon says gently. “Let’s go inside. I’ll wait with you until your mother comes home.” 

Reluctantly, you follow Namjoon. Eyeing him, you realize he is dressed differently than previously that night. Now, he’s in black breeches and a black linen shirt. The weapons belt is gone and he’s without a coat. 

You frown. “Aren’t you freezing?”

“I run warm.”

It’s the only answer that he gives you as you walk back into the street which is filled with people and torches. In the distance, you hear the baying of hounds. It chills you, goosebumps exploding up and down your arms as you watch a cluster of firelights gather far off down the road. 

“The constable is leading a manhunt. They’ll come to question us too.” 

Wordlessly you gesture for Namjoon to join you inside of your home. He closes the door firmly behind you and strides to the fireplace, using the torch to coax the simmering logs to a full flame. Cedar pops as he adds the torch to the fire, orange embers drifting up the chimney. 

Rubbing your hands together, you offer him tea and he accepts with a soft smile. It doesn’t meet his eyes as he looks around the only place you’ve ever called home. Suddenly shy of your less-than-luxurious surroundings, you clear your throat and gesture to one of the mismatched armchairs by the fire as you grab a kettle.

Namjoon hardly fits in the chair. You press your lips to keep from laughing, which feels inappropriate with a man dead just a few yards away. With careful hands, you hang the kettle next to the fire, the flame close enough to heat the water as you scurry back to the kitchen and fill tea bags with herbs. 

“What kind of tea do you like?”

“Yarrow, if you have it.”

“I do.” You grab the jar, popping the top. “Are you in great pain, Mr. Kim?”

“Call me Namjoon. Mr. Kim feels far too formal.”

“Well, we are strangers, after all.”

Namjoon certainly doesn’t feel like a stranger. You cast him a sidelong glance as you say it, looking for his reaction. He turns his head from the fire, meeting your gaze head-on. His lips curve in a secret smile, making your nerves dance.

“I suppose that’s true.”

Is it? You wonder. You’re not so sure. 

Instead of asking him, you bring the mugs with bags of tea over to where he sits, handing him one. Steam rises from the spout of the teapot. With a thick towel, you lift it off of the hanger. Namjoon holds out his cup and lets you pour carefully into his mug, the smell of yarrow and mint wafting toward you. After pouring your own cup, you set the kettle down and sit across from him.

Your cold hands leech the warmth from the mug. You settle comfortably in the chair, relaxing and inhaling the chamomile in your cup. After a few moments of silence, you realize how comfortable and safe you feel with Namjoon, though you’ve only known him for a few short hours. 

“Why have you come to the village?” 

Namjoon watches the fire as he answers, “You were eavesdropping at the veterinary office. I’m sure you heard me.” You look down at your steaming cup and Namjoon chuckles, raspy and deep. It’s a nice sound.

“You said there was a ‘protected’ here. And something about a Yoongi.”

Namjoon’s face darkens at the mention of Yoongi. You chew on your lip, worried you’ve pushed him too far before you’ve even started to ask him real questions. His jaw works as he contemplates what you’ve said, sipping the tea a little. 

“A protected just means someone under protection by my family,” Namjoon says finally. “My extended family is… large. We are a very close group and we consider those in our community blood.”

“It is… not always like that here.”

“Your mother assists Mrs. Hutch, though. That seems like family, in a way.”

“Mrs. Hutch is kind. Not everyone is.” 

Namjoon nods. “It is not like that where I am from. We bear the sins of our neighbors and we share the responsibility of keeping everyone safe.”

“That must be nice.” You sip your tea and scald your tongue, hissing and setting the cup down. Namjoon leans forward as though to help you, alarm on his face. “Tea is too hot. I don’t know how you drink it.”

He smiles and shrugs. “I run warm.” 

“So you said. How are you related to Dr. Kim?” 

“He’s my uncle. He’s my father’s brother. His wife was best friends with my mom.” 

“Oh.” You blink in surprise. “She passed away when I was very young. She… died the same winter as my father.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Namjoon frowns and cocks his head. “What did your father do?” 

“He was a hunter.”

One of the logs pops in the fireplace, making you flinch. You give a nervous laugh and glance at Namjoon, who has gone stone-still. The firelight dances on his face as he peers at you. Your smile falters a little at the gravity you find there. 

“He only hunted fowl and deer,” you find yourself explaining. You don’t know why you say it, only that suddenly that feels important. “He didn’t like to hunt bigger game or predators. Mother says that he believed they were best left alone and that a true hunter knows his betters when he sees them.”

Namjoon hums. “Smart man.”

“I don’t know. He died in an animal attack when I was very young.” 

“You must resent the woods.”

“Not at all. I think…” You bite your bottom lip, trying to find the right words. “I think that he wouldn’t blame the animals. The woods are their home. My mother says he was always very adamant about that. They don’t usually attack villagers, though.”

“Usually?”

“There are animal attacks happening. I’m sure Dr. Kim told you…?”

“Ah, yes. You think they’re without reason?”

“Perhaps hunger? I don’t know. It does not happen often.” 

“Wolves are not known to hunt people.” Namjoon’s fingers drum against his mug, a steady tap. He seems thoughtful as he regards you. “They’re intelligent creatures and their packs are important to them. They take the threat to their land and their family seriously.” 

“Like your family?”

He laughs. “Like my family.” Namjoon sips his tea again. “This land used to belong to several packs of wolves, you know?”

“Really?”

“Yes, until settlers drove them out. Not that long ago there were hunting parties for sport. They slaughtered entire packs, destroying bloodlines and nearly wiping out the wolves here entirely.”

“I always found that incredibly sad.”

“Why is that?”

“They’re incredibly important to the ecosystem here. And I guess I always agreed with my dad. I don’t remember him much, but I like to remember that he was good at heart.”

Namjoon hums but says nothing else. You sit in silence for a while, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Namjoon’s presence is steady, keeping out the cold and the fear just beyond the door. You wonder how he does that by just sitting in a chair, or how it feels so natural. 

Outside, the world begins to turn gray. You yawn as exhaustion begins to set in and you feel yourself sagging. Eyes burning, you rub them with the back of your hands, blinking a few times to fight the explosion of colors in your vision. 

“You can sleep,” Namjoon says softly from where he sits. You glance at him. “You can trust me.”

A hint of pine and bergamot drift toward you, making you drowsy. Namjoon grabs a blanket from the back of his chair and stands up, bringing it to you. He takes your mug and you watch him with sleepy, round eyes as he places the blanket over you.

“Sleep.” His voice is soft, distant. “I will be here.”

Your eyes flutter shut and you drift to sleep, remembering the warm sound of his voice. It… reminds you of your wolf.

-

Gentle voices pull you from the clutches of sleep. You wake slowly, a cramp in your neck making you reluctant to get up. You smell the fire and the hint of pine and bergamot. You hear a low, raspy voice that you instantly recognize as Namjoon. 

How swiftly I know his voice, you think. 

“You must wake her,” a male voice says. You recognize it as Dr. Kim. “The constable is coming for questioning.”

“She’s already awake,” Namjoon answers, a smile in his voice. Your eyes snap open at being caught, meeting his dark gaze as he smirks from near your door. “See?”

You scowl at him. How did he know that? Sitting up and stretching, you appraise the two men lurking near your door. “Is my mother still with Mrs. Hutch?”

Dr. Kim nods and steps swiftly into the room around Namjoon. Namjoon reaches out a hand, catching Dr. Kim with his arm and stopping him from entering the room properly. You watch in puzzlement as there’s a silent exchange between the two of them, Namjoon’s face dark as Dr. Kim raises a brow. 

Then, Namjoon lets him go. You cock your head to the side, wondering what that’s about. Ignoring Namjoon, Dr. Kim approaches and says, “The constable will be here shortly. Say nothing about the farm.”

The farm. The memory of the wolves brings a chill to your arm, the smell of smoke and burning oil. The confusion and Dr. Kim’s refusal to answer your questions. 

“What is going on?” you demand, eyes flickering from Dr. Kim to Namjoon. “Animal attacks, murders, you covering up something at the barn. I’m being lied to.” 

“Say nothing about the farm,” Dr. Kim says again, voice firm. Namjoon makes a noise that startles you. It’s almost like a growl, your eyes going wide as he glares at Dr. Kim. “I told you this village has a complicated history. I’m looking after your safety.” 

Heavy footsteps sound on the porch. There’s a loud knock on the door, the constable announcing his presence on the other side. Namjoon opens the door for him, standing back to let him in. The constable looks him up and down with confusion before looking at you, a question in his eyes.

“They came to check on me,” you offer. The constable has known you since you were a child, it’s no wonder he’s confused at the presence of a stranger in your home. “How can I help you, constable?”

“I’d like you to answer a few questions about last night. Mr. Liang confirmed you were one of the first people to Hutch’s last night.”

Dr. Kim walks to your kitchen and busies himself making tea. Namjoon moves to sit in the chair across from you, his warm presence from the night before replaced with something mildly threatening. You cut him a look but his dark eyes are focused on the constable as though he’s a threat. 

The questions are easy enough. When did you wake up? Did you notice anyone around your home when you came home? Did you notice anyone outside? When did you come home? 

You leave out running into Namjoon behind your home. You don’t know why, but you feel the need to not draw attention to him. You also leave out the strange incident at the farm, glancing sideways at Dr. Kim when he brings you lemon tea. 

When the constable is finished, he eyes Dr. Kim. “Be at the station at four,” he instructs. “We’re splitting hunting parties. One to look for the culprit, the other to get rid of the damn wolves.” 

“The wolves were there first, you know?” Namjoon speaks up, looking at you and not the constable. “Have you ever tried figuring out what they want?”

“And who the hell are you?”

“Please ignore my nephew, constable. He likes to insert himself in conversations he doesn’t belong in. Come, let’s look over the hounds before you send them out tonight.”

Together, the constable and Dr. Kim shuffle out. Before he shuts the door, Dr. Kim levels the pair of you with a heavy gaze. You don’t know what that gaze means, but you know that something is going on in this village and that he and Namjoon seem to have some idea about it.

As soon as the door shuts, you turn to Namjoon and demand, “What is going on?”

He sighs. “Would you listen if I just said to wait it out?”

“Do you know who murdered Mr. Hatch?” 

Namjoon hesitates and shakes his head. You narrow your eyes, unbelieving. “I really don’t know who did, Red.”

“Why are you really here? Why all the secrets?” 

“I told you, my family protects those who belong to their community.”

“What did you mean about asking what the wolves want?” 

“I told you last night. There were wolves long before this village existed. Seems to me that if the wolves are suddenly killing the townspeople, perhaps it’s because they want their land back. Or maybe they’re angry from years of being hunted.”

That shuts you up. You can’t argue with that, exactly. But… “Are you saying that the wolves are capable of revenge?”

Namjoon stands and gestures to your cloak. “How often do you wear that?”

“Every day. It’s… sentimental to me.”

His eyes lighten and he offers a half smile. “Good. Red is a lucky color.”

“Where are you going?”

He opens the door, cold wind hissing past the opening. “Your mom is coming. I’ll see you later, Red.”

Without another word, Namjoon slips through the door and shuts it firmly behind him. You stare after him, openmouthed and confused. As promised, you hear your mother come up the steps, light feet scuffing before she quickly lets herself in, shutting the door firmly behind her.

You offer to make your mother breakfast, happy to help as she dozes in the chair. It isn’t until later that you wonder how Namjoon had heard her coming at all.

-

Little Lucy Larkin

In a little wood

Little Lucy Larkin

Up to no good

Little Lucy Larkin

In her little hood

Little Lucy Larkin

Ware of the woods!

Little Lucy Larkin

Stole a little bread

Little Lucy Larkin

In the woods of dread

Little Lucy Larkin

Is a little thief

Little Lucy Larkin

Die by wolf’s teeth

A sense of unease slithers up your spine as you pull your cloak closer. The voice of the children playing the Little Lucy Game echoes down the street and you pause to watch as the little boy playing Lucy steals the rock from the middle of the circle and the little boy playing the wolf gets up to chase him. 

The other kids scream and giggle as the boys give chase, the sound of their laughter eerie in the cold gray of twilight. Shaking it off, you turn and duck your head as you walk up the steps to the Tall Tales Inn. 

Warmth and the scent of food greet you. It’s a thinner crowd than the day before but still more people than you’re used to without the traders in town. There is a clear divide in the dining room with traders on one side and townsfolk on the other, the murder quick to make the locals distrust the new people in their streets.

Tense conversations hum in the gold light. You navigate around tables until you find Hoseok sitting with Seokjin. The sight of Seokjin gives you pause. He seems to sense your presence, glancing up and meeting your questioning stare. He gives no reaction, though, turning his attention back to Hoseok who is murmuring quietly.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Jin,” you say by way of greeting. Hoseok gives you a look at your clipped tone. You ignore it, sitting down and leveling the older man with a stare, his father’s mysteriousness weighing on you. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

He narrows his eyes a fraction. “Just enjoying the company of friends.”

“Shouldn’t you be helping the constable?”

“I’m on the late-night shift.” 

Grinding your teeth, you sit roughly. Hoseok just watches you, brows raised. You say nothing as you order a drink and a meal, picking at the splinters of the tabletop, eyeing Seokjin. If he’s put out by your rudeness he doesn’t show it, drinking heartily from his tankard and watching you with dark, even eyes. 

You know Seokjin knows whatever it is his father and Namjoon have been talking about. You yourself have not been able to work out what’s going on in the village, but you’re sure the Kims know. And if Dr. Kim asked you to lie to the constable… well perhaps Seokjin is leading him astray as well.

Hoseok pipes up, steering the conversation everywhere he can to avoid the tension building between you and Seokjin and the topics of murders. You participate as little as possible, mind trying to put together the puzzle pieces of the blooming mystery in your home. 

An uncomfortable thought starts to take root in your mind. Is it possible that the Kim family is behind the murders? Dr. Kim has plenty of weapons at his disposal, and they had been talking about revenge, and Dr. Kim had covered up what happened at the Marrow’s farm… but what did that have to do with wolves?

You’re not sure. But you do know that the Kims are purposefully hiding things, that there is a murderer somewhere in the town or near it, and that there is a sense of doom that you cannot shake, a dark itch like stinging nettle in your bones. 

Seokjin excuses himself to take an afternoon nap before his hunting party heads out for the evening. Your eyes track him as he goes. Seokjin certainly doesn’t seem evil, but there’s no telling what’s behind his pretty face. 

“What is wrong with you?” Hoseok asks, leaning over the table and whispering harshly. “You’re behaving rather odd.”

“Something is going on.”

“Yes, your attitude.”

You turn and glare at him. “No, Hobi. Something is going on with the Kim family. I don’t know how to explain it.” You grip your cup tighter. “But I intend to figure it out.” 

Hoseok questions you about what that means. You keep your answers vague, not wanting to rope him into your plan. Too often as children did you lure Hoseok into trouble, and with how dangerous night is becoming in your town, you know it’s a bad idea to endanger him too.

T sun sets over the village. You stand at your bedroom window, watching through the frosty window as the sun turns the sky into a smear of blood. The clouds have cleared away just for this sanguine sunset. It makes your stomach turn, a sense of foreboding heavy in the air.

Still, it doesn’t deter you. Red fades to gray-blue and gray-blue fades to black. Wind rattles the glass in the window pane. Turning from the window, you find your thickest pair of pants and fur-lined tunic. The fabric feels scratchy on your skin.

Dressed, you look at your red cloak folded on the bed. Any other night you would take it with you. It has become your safety net, something that keeps you warm and keeps you safe. You cannot recall a day you haven’t worn it since it mysteriously showed up thirteen years ago, but tonight, you need obscurity.

Instead, you reach for an old, thick cloak that used to belong to your father. It's dark brown and worn at the edges, a little too big for you as the hem brushes the ground. It will serve its purpose in keeping you hidden in the dark of the woods, though. 

All you grab is a hunting knife that you don’t know how to use, a wax candle, and a solid piece of flint and sharp rock to light it with. The candle and flint are for emergencies only. You hope it won’t be so dark that you cannot see, but you’re unsure what the clouds are going to do.

Outside, the wind is sharp. Your nostrils burn as you breathe it in and duck away behind your house. No new snow has fallen during the day, which is a good thing. You don’t have to worry about dragging your boots and tiring your calves. It also helps that the sky is clear tonight, the moon a sliver of sharp light. 

Baying hounds echo through the village and the forest as the hunting dogs lead the men into the woods. You’re quick on your feet, dashing into the woods and heading north. You don’t want to run right into the hunting party, but you do want to find their burning torches and keep them in your line of sight.

They are easy to find, hovering like orange fireflies in the distance. Careful to make your way in the dark, you follow them. Your breath mists in front of you, hands shaking more from the adrenaline than the cold. 

The torches spread out. You chew on your lip, unsure which group would belong to Seokjin. You take a gamble, heading after the group closest to you. 

Everything feels too loud. Each snap of a branch under your foot and crunch of dry leaves feels like it’s going to give you away. Still, you’re good at sneaking for the most part, having spent plenty of time skulking through the village to take nightly strolls in the woods.

Voices carry to you. Through a system of running a few steps forward and dodging behind a tree, you manage to follow the men at a distance. You think that you hear the constable’s voice, which is a good sign. If he’s around, perhaps Seokjin is too.

The deeper you go into the forest, the colder it gets. The ground beneath your feet slopes. The evergreens are packed tighter here, needles tickling your hands as you keep your hands held out from your sides as you slide downward.

This is near where I saved that wolf, you think. 

It’s true. You recognize the slope of the land and the general area. You cannot tell if it’s exactly where you met the wolf, but it’s close enough that your senses tingle and your eyes sweep the land, expecting something to happen.

A sense of foreboding trails you as the men move deeper into the wood. You turn around and look for the other torches and see nothing but a dark, compact forest. Your stomach flips uncomfortably but you continue, unsure now if it’s safer to turn back or to keep going. 

Ahead, the group of men decide to take a break. The hounds sniff the area around them, pulling at the leashes as they go. Crouching low, you watch as the hounds go in circles, following the scent of something that seems to confuse them. 

The men take long droughts of water, making you wish you’d thought of that. Mouth dry and hands cold, you huddle against a tree, bark digging into your back. 

A few minutes pace by. You close your eyes, resting your head against the tree, breathing cold air in deeply. You don’t know what you expect the group to lead you to, only that you-

Something snaps behind you. Your eyes fly open and your limbs lock. Heart beating like a steady drum, you hold your breath and strain your eyes. For a moment, there’s nothing but the dim voices of the men taking a break. You think it’s nothing until you hear something again, a gentle susurration of leaves. 

One of the hounds lifts its head, ears twitching. Your eyes scan the surrounding area back and forth, searching for what you know is there. 

It happens so fast that you don’t even see the wolves enter the ring of torchlight until they’re there, snarls rattling the trees. You clamp your hands over your mouth to mute your gasp as the sounds of screams and tearing flesh explode in the night. Hounds screech, their growls savage and choked as the wolves descend. 

You don’t know how many there are. Torch lights go down and drown you in darkness. Squeezing your eyes shut, you curl in on yourself, panting through your hands as the sounds echo in your ears. A new fear has stabbed its way between your ribs, making it hard to breathe. 

Time moves slowly. Or quickly. You cannot tell which. One moment the sounds of a nightmare turned real are just a few hundred yards away. The next, an eerie silence blankets the dark forest. 

You don’t want to open your eyes, but you have to. Very slowly, you crack an eye open. At first, there’s nothing. Your vision swims with flashing colors, your eyes trying to adjust. Then, there is the vague outline of trees. Ahead of you, where the men had been, lay shadowed piles. 

Shaking, you glance around. You see nothing - hear nothing. You stand slowly. Each inch you gain feels like you’re being too loud. Sweat gathers on the back of your neck. The cool air makes it feel like an icy finger brushing down your nape. 

When you’re sure that there’s nothing else around, you take a step toward where the attack happened. Leaves crunch beneath your feet. You stop breathing, waiting for signs of anything. Nothing happens and you let out a trembling breath, taking one more step. Again, you wait to see if your footfalls will trigger something. 

You repeat this to the edge of the slaughter - for that’s what it is. A slaughter. Bile rises in your throat as you reach the first body and stamped-out torch. The constable and his hound lay in tatters, only recognizable by the batch on his cloak. 

It is carnage. You don’t dare breathe through your nose for fear of breathing in the scent of death, circling the scene with weak knees, hand pressed to your mouth to keep in the whimpers. You see the faces of men you’ve known since you were a child. Ripped, bloodied, gored. 

Finally, you lean over and empty the contents of your stomach. It burns on the way up, choking you. Pressing a hand against a tree, you breathe raggedly. The adrenaline coursing through you makes you twitchy and unstable, each nerve feeling like it’s on fire. 

Leaves crunch a few feet away. Your head snaps in and you zero in on the source of the noise, mouth hanging open when you see Seokjin standing amongst the trees. He stares at you, frown on his face. 

“Who are you?” he asks, voice gentle. You realize he can’t see your face under the cowl of your hood and you’re not in your traditional red. He sighs. “Doesn’t matter.” 

You hear shuffling behind him before you see a white wolf. The white wolf from the Marrow farm. There are others, then. You don’t know how you missed them, the darkness of their fur blending in with the darkness around them.

The white one is spotted in red, muzzle matted, teeth slicked. Your stomach lurches. It isn’t hard to guess where it’s from. You take a step back and the wolf growls, lips pulled back. You freeze, looking amongst the pack of wolves that fan out around Seokjin, desperately looking for your wolf with the kind, intelligent eyes. 

You do not find him there. 

With a growl, the white wolf steps forward. Your instincts kick in and you turn and run, letting out a wild shriek as you do so. If Seokjin recognizes your voice when you scream, you cannot tell. The wolves are after you and you’re barreling through the trees with no hope of outrunning them, especially uphill.

A wolf nips at your ankle and you scream, tripping over your feet in your terror and going down hard. You’re jarred as you hit the ground, bones rattling as pain shoots up your limbs from the impact. Before you can scramble, there are teeth around your ankle, not biting down hard enough to snap, but hard enough to drag.

Your scream is wretched even to your ears. It is a curdling, nightmarish sound. You feel the scrape of leaves and sticks against your skin, cloak picking up dirt and twigs as you go. Your nails dig into the ground but the soil is frozen solid, fingers scraping bluntly against it. 

With a surge of self-preservation, you kick your free leg backward as hard as you can. You hit the wolf in the muzzle, making it cry, and let go of your foot. You manage to crawl to your knees, slipping in the foliage as you try to stand before it’s tearing at your cloak, determined to drag you one way or another. 

Sliding again as it drags you by the cloak, you try to undo the ties at your throat with shaking fingers. It comes away and frees you from the hellish drag to your death. This time, you’re faster to your feet, turning and running in the opposite direction. You don’t know where you’re going, just that you want to get away. 

Your foot slides on the incline and with a shout you go down. This time, your head hits the ground hard. Your ears ring and your vision pulses. Blinking, you roll over and stare up at the canopy of dark trees. The world spins dangerously and you feel nausea churn deep in your stomach.

“Yoongi!” you hear the deep voice but it sounds warbled like you’re hearing it through water. Your head lolls to the side, the ringing in your ears still going as you see feet pass you. “Enough!”

Your field of vision narrows to a sharp point, edges pulling with black. You realize you’re about to pass out, oddly just thankful that you’re already on the ground. Just as your world begins to face, the face of the person in front of you appears.

Namjoon. 

-

“Hey,” a gentle voice calls to you. There are soft hands on your head, brushing against your forehead. It smells like pine and bergamot as you snuggle into them. “I hate to wake you, but you need to wake up every few hours.”

The memory of the wolves comes to you. Your eyes snap open and you blink a few times before your vision adjusts to see Namjoon leaning over you. Cringing away from him, you press yourself into a warm, soft mattress that isn’t your own.

“Easy,” he cautions, holding his hands up. “You smacked your head very hard. I think you have a concussion.” 

“Where am I?” 

The room isn’t so much a room as it is a shack. There is a single fireplace in the far corner, a pile of logs, and the bed that you’re in. Despite the tiny space, it looks well-built and it’s warm, your heart slowing down as Namjoon leans to sit further from you and give you your space.

“Random shack in the woods near your village. I think it used to be a hunter’s stead for the winter.” He jerks his thumb toward the fireplace. “Hasn’t been used in a while. The wood has rotted.” 

“Seokjin - you - what is going on?” 

Emotions spill out of you like a broken dam. You don’t know which to acknowledge first: anger, fear, curiosity, gratitude. 

Namjoon’s sigh is heavy. He visibly looks wearing, running a hand through his hair. You wonder how soft his hair is, followed immediately by feeling ridiculous for the timing of said thought. 

“Just…” he winces. “Try to lean back and take it easy, I’m worried about how hard you hit your head. I promise I have no intentions of hurting you or letting anyone hurt me.”

“You called that white wolf Yoongi. Who is Yoongi? Why was Seokjin in the woods - those people - they’re dead.”

He nods slowly. “They are.” 

You lean back carefully. The bed is comfortable and Namjoon keeps his distance, worried eyes on you. “I will try to explain the best I can. It will require a little bit of faith that I’m not lying to you and that I’m not insulting your intelligence by telling you things that will sound insane.” 

“Like what?”

“Like werewolves exist.”

You stare at him. He doesn’t laugh, crack a grin, or do anything to make you believe he’s joking. Your first instinct is to blow him off. Werewolves were a tale for children and a way to help the children of the village cope during periods of wolf violence. 

Thus far, all Namjoon has done is protect you. Strange as it seems, you know that fact to be true. He didn’t tell Dr. Jim you were eavesdropping, he kept you company after Mr. Hatch’s murder, and he stopped the wolves from taking you.

Namjoon is… there is something between you. You know it.

Hesitantly, you say, “Alright. Werewolves exist. Keep going.”

He is visibly relieved that you’re not questioning or berating him. You don’t exactly believe him yet, but you want to hear his story. 

“There were communities of werewolves who lived here long before humans did. When people migrated to this area, they drove them out and forced those communities to become smaller and smaller. When the werewolves asked for their land back or to share resources, they were hunted and slaughtered.” 

Namjoon’s throat bobs and emotions flicker across his face. His features settle on pain, and you stop yourself from reaching out to take his hand. “What you vaguely remember as wolf attacks and wolf hunts as a child was those families being exterminated. There are a few families in the village who remember that werewolves exist. They took it upon themselves to remove the problem forever.”

This village has a complicated history. 

Dr. Kim’s words float through your mind as you chew on what Namjoon has told you. He lets the information settle, giving you a few moments to think. You don’t recall anyone seriously ever talking about werewolves but… 

“They’re angry,” you murmur, remembering how San described the massacre at the Mathesons. “The wolves now - those aren’t wolves. They’re werewolves who are getting revenge. You spoke of revenge with Dr. Kim. Is that why the animal attacks have been happening?”

Namjoon nods grimly. “There is a very small concentration of people in the village who keep the secret about the massacres and the knowledge of werewolves. Those families have been… targeted recently. They still hunt werewolves when they can.”

“Who is Yoongi?”

“Ah,” he lets out a humorless laugh. “He leads the last remaining community of werewolves. His family was murdered by your constable when he was a child.” You blanch. “Yoongi is angry, vengeful, and very influential. When he was voted pack alpha, he decided to eliminate the last remaining threats.” 

“He’s the white wolf.” Namjoon raises his brows but nods. You think that makes sense, remembering the white wolf at the Marrow farm and the one who dragged you in the forest. “Why was Seokjin there? Did he lead the constable to-”

Namjoon hesitates and nods. “The Kim family are wolf friends. It’s largely the reason Dr. Kim is a veterinarian. They’re what we call one foot in the forest. There were two others in your village that were wolf friends. Your neighbor was one.”

You twist your fingers in the blanket. “Did Yoongi-”

“No. I believe he was murdered by one of the men who knows what Yoongi and his people are.” 

“So that’s why Seokjin led them to Yoongi?” Namjoon gives a curt nod. “This is…. A lot to take in.” 

“It is. Sleep a little more and we’ll talk about it more when you wake up. Your head is already swimming enough, yeah?”

Namjoon’s grin is gentle and you shoot one back. “Do you promise to tell me why you’re really here? And why it feels like I know you?”

“Of course. Sleep, Red.”

-

Namjoon wakes you again a few hours later. This time, it’s with water. It’s cool and fresh, soothing your aching head and waking up your sleepy senses. He lets you drain the entire thing, sitting thoughtfully at the end of your bed. 

This time, you feel more alert. Sitting up carefully, you cross your legs and examine him. He’s dressed in simple clothes and a jacket, the fireplace throwing an orange glow on his face. Again, you’re struck with how much you could swear you know him, like his eyes are something you know and love. 

He waits for you to get settled, placing your hands in your lap. You fiddle with the edge of your tunic, drinking him in. Strong shoulders, rough hands, tawny skin. Your heart does a flip before you shove away thoughts of how pretty he is to think about what he’s told you so far.

“I have questions.”

He smiles and it’s as warm as the fire behind him. “Of course you do.”

“Did the werewolves kill my father?”

You get the tough one out of the way first. It was a thought you had just before you slept, wondering if your father had been someone who helped the constable murder Yoongi’s family. Though you have decided to dislike the white wolf very strongly, you can’t help but pity him.

“No,” Namjoon says vehemently. “After you told me about your father, I did some asking around. He was a wolf friend. That’s why he didn’t hunt big game, Red. He knew about us.” 

A tight feeling works its way up your throat. The relief and anger you feel is a double-edged sword, happy that he didn’t contribute to the displacement Namjoon is speaking of and angry that you know with every bone in your body that he was murdered. The instinct speaks to you the same way it tells you that you know Namjoon. 

You look up at him sharply, realizing something. “What do you mean ‘he knew about us’? Us?” 

Namjoon’s eyes are dark. He regards you intensely, making you shiver. Slowly, Namjoon begins to roll one of his sleeves. Your eyes drop to his hand as he does, long fingers meticulous. He bares his skin and holds his hand out to you, displaying the jagged, white scar that lopes around his wrist. 

Without thinking twice, you reach out to him, pulling his hand toward you. His skin is warm, sending a tingle through your fingertips. His palm is large and rough, your fingers delicate as you flip it to face the ceiling, eyes glued to the scarring around his wrist.

You move your fingers over his palm gently, scraping the calluses as you go. He lets you do what you want, touch stopping at his wrist bone before glancing up at him. His eyes are impossibly dark and he nods, urging you forward. 

The scarring is rough. Thick, ropey lines encircle his wrist like his hand was ravished by teeth. It makes you faintly think of Yoongi’s teeth around your ankle or -

“You,” you breathe, eyes meeting his. They are the same warm, intelligent, and welcoming eyes of the wolf you’d saved all those years ago. The wolf who had stood between you and the others at the Marrow farm. The wolf you dream about every night. “I saved you?”

His throat bobs. “You did.”

“I… that’s why it feels like I know you.” Your fingers trace his scar, almost fondly. Namjoon’s eyes flutter. “I do know you. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He smirks. “‘Hi, my name is Namjoon and I can turn into a wolf whenever I want and you saved me a few years ago and I’ve been thinking about you ever since’ is not exactly a great opening.” 

“Better than ‘you know most people who don’t want to be seen don’t wear a red cloak’.” He scrunches his nose. Cute. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s alright. I’ll talk if you’re willing to listen?”

You nod, not letting go of his hand. Now that you know who and what he is, any residual fear is gone. You scoot toward him, wanting to be closer. “I want to know.”

“Giho is my uncle like I said. He’s not a werewolf, though. That trait passed through my mom’s side of the family. Still, he was family and he knew about the werewolves that my father married into. He's a wolf friend and does what he can to help us, including making house calls and stealing us goods in harsh winters.”

“Huh. I always just thought he was a quiet, grumpy vet.”

“He is very much that, but he has also been a lifeline. He helps Yoongi far more than he should. It puts him in danger. His wife was killed for being a wolf friend. Giho was left alone simply because he is useful to the village.” Your fingers squeeze his hand at the hurt in his voice. “That night you found me… I was pretty young then. Fourteen, to be exact. I was nosing around the village that everyone was so afraid of and never saw the trap. I cannot emphasize how much you saved my life.” 

“It seemed like the right thing to do. I was afraid but you were… hurt. And your eyes were so kind. I don’t regret it.”

“What a relief.” You smile, genuinely happy. “I was worried you might after finding out my family were sort of… killing people.”

“When you put it that way,” you wince. “But I do believe you. That humans drove you out. That people are hurting you and your people. You don’t deserve it and I… don’t think I am in a position to offer moral arguments to what you’re doing.”

“I knew I liked you.”

“You barely know me.”

Namjoon turns his hand and catches yours, lacing your fingers. Your heart skitters as he pulls you a little close and leans, eyes narrowed playfully. “Hmm, sorry. I wasn’t really allowed to come hang out around your town, Little Red.” 

“Why did you finally come? Is it to help Yoongi?”

He shakes his head. “I only have one goal.”

“Which is?”

“To keep you safe.” That quiets you. Namjoon doesn’t meet your eyes when he continues, “You showed me such kindness, I just wanted to repay you. I liked to keep an eye on you when I could, always from a safe distance. You might not know me, but I grew up knowing you.”

Your mouth goes dry at his words. For someone who poses such a threat, Namjoon is gentle. Soft. Kind. You swallow past the lump in your throat. “Did you give me the red cloak?” 

“Yeah. It was to mark you as a friend. We give them to those who are under our protection.” He narrows his eyes. “Which is why Yoongi swears he didn’t know it was you in the woods tonight. Seokjin’s eyesight is too piss poor to realize it was you. Idiots.”

“Well if you know about me, tell me about you. What’s your favorite color? What do you like to eat? What's your favorite thing about being a wolf?”

So Namjoon does tell you. You both end up sitting on the bed next to one another, arms touching as he traces the lines on your palm. Your backs are pressed against the wall, feet dangling off the edge of his bed as he tells you about his childhood. 

It is fascinating hearing about the dynamics of his community but it’s also sad. Hearing how they live in fear, hearing how so many of the people he knows are gone. Realizing that the things he tells you match up with things you realize about your own community. 

Sadness sinks to the bottom of your gut like a rock. It isn’t pity that you feel, but something far more profound. It’s regret that you didn’t know any better. Frustration that he has suffered. A radical feeling of anger and desire for justice knowing you lived in comfort while Namjoon and his family suffered. 

There are good parts, too. Namjoon recalls happy moments and blushes when he recalls seeing you a few times. It doesn’t feel weird or strange, knowing someone was looking out for you. It feels comforting, like old friends catching up. 

Namjoon’s eyes sparkle as he tells you about his favorite books. You don’t know when you stop listening to him and start staring, but it’s inevitable. You love the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, dimple making an appearance as he recalls a story about putting Yoongi in the dirt with his brother, Taehyung’s help. You love the way he gestures wildly with his hands, every word evocative and enthusiastic. 

He’s the kind of person you would have been friends with had he grown up with you. And maybe a little more, you think, watching Namjoon watch you. His gaze is even and heated, making you squirm. His mouth twitches and you’re so sure that he knows he makes you nervous.

“I never thanked you,” you mention. He hums in question, letting you go back to tracing his scare delicately. He twitches and you grin. Good. “For saving me from the jaws of Yoongi.”

“Ah, that. I think he knew it was you. There’s a reason he dragged you instead of killing you on the spot.”

“Huh. Well, that’s very rude.”

“He’s good at that.”

“You sound fond, still.”

He nods. “I love Yoongi. Is my brother, in a way.”

“Well still. Thank you.” 

You look up at Namjoon. You’re sitting so close, shoulders pressed against one another. He smells like pine and bergamot, your favorite scent. It’s heady, awakening a foreign ache in you. Your heart speeds up as you lean into him just a little more, watching him through your lashes.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he rumbles, voice deep. 

Your toes curl. “Like what?” 

“LIke you wanna do more than just thank me.”

“Maybe I do.”

“I know.” 

Ah. You start to pull away and turn your head, realizing that he’s not interested, but Namjoon catches your chin with his other hand, tilting you back toward him. Your heart stalls when he looks down at your mouth, then back up to your eyes. “I’ve known you for all my life. Not how I wanted, but I’ve known you nonetheless. But you haven’t had the chance to know me.”

“I want to. I feel like I have known you. Like I knew you were always there.”

“Is this what you want?”

This. Namjoon. Whatever is crackling between you. The thing that has sparked since the moment he caught you eavesdropping. It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t have to make sense. 

Namjoon makes sense though. The way his gaze softens when he sees you. The way he looms on the edge of your life, a silent protector. The way he could do so much damage but is soft instead. The way everything about him feels like the sun on a summer day, like a field of wildflowers in spring.

He must sense you tipping over the edge. His grip on your chin becomes firm and he tilts your face toward him, leaning down to press his warm, full mouth against yours. The effect is instantaneous. You melt into him, sighing as a feeling of belonging slots into place.

The kiss is chaste. Namjoon pulls away and your lashes flutter. You hadn’t even realized your eyes closed. His gaze is dark and half-lidded, his face close enough that you feel his breath. His lips have stoked a fire in you and you want more, you want to spill out the years of longing for something you didn’t know was there, for the sudden confirmation that he’d been there all along.

Surging forward, you press your lips to his again. This time, it’s searing, your mouth fierce as you push up off of the bed. Namjoon falls in your rhythm easily, hand leaving your chin to grab you by the waist and pull you into his lap.

Knees slotted on either side of him, you pour everything you have into the kiss. Your fingers card through his thick hair, silky strands sliding between them like you knew they would. His lips are soft on yours, mouth warm as you break the seal of the kiss with your tongue.

Namjoon lets out deep, throaty sounds. It coaxes the flame inside of you to a roar, tongue tangling with his. It’s wet and messy and a little impractical but you don’t feel embarrassed or nervous. It’s Namjoon. It feels like home. 

Pleasure tingles down your spine. Namjoon grips your hips, fingers digging into your flesh. It feels hot and your skin is burning up, static trapped between your chests where they’re pressed together. Your hips twitch, tentatively seeking friction in his lap. Namjoon responds immediately, pulling your hips toward him and letting you roll. 

Your mouths part but Namjoon doesn’t stop kissing you. You pant while he presses his mouth to your chin and jawline, tongue tough against the softness of your skin. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he growls. You tilt your head back, letting him pepper your throat. “You have no idea.”

“I always felt like something was missing. I think it was you.”

Namjoon moans at your admission. The heat between your legs is almost painful. One of Namjoon’s hands goes from your waist to between your legs, cupping you. You gasp back bowing as he presses firmly, deft fingers providing mind-numbing pleasure.

“That feels good.” You fist the collar of his shirt and squeeze your eyes. You feel tense, color exploding behind your closed lids. “Don’t stop.”

“Whatever you want,” he whispers. He pulls you in close, fingers curling. Your hips buck and you realize it isn't enough. You need the barrier of clothes gone. You want it more than anything. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Yes.”

You do know. It’s second nature. You knew even that day in the street when you’d first seen him. Just like Namjoon knows what you want and need, land leaving the apex of your thighs to help you off his lap and onto the bed under him. 

There’s a confidence in his movements that makes the room spin. Long forgotten are the wolf attacks and Yoongi’s teeth around your ankle. Here, it’s only the rasp of your pants against your skin as Namjoon pulls them down. It’s only the heat of his skis as you yank on his tunic, desperate to feel him.

Namjoon does run hot. His skin is burning up as your hands explore his firm chest. He captures your lips again, sucking your bottom lip in his mouth as he spreads your legs open with a knee. You shake under his touch, equal parts eager and stimulated. 

He’s so, so gentle as he caresses your inner thigh. When he brings his fingers to your sticky center, you let out a pitiful whine. Namjoon pauses, fingers pressed to your swollen kiss as he laughs and breaks the kiss, forehead pressed against yours.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout, leaning your head up to bite his chin. “It feels good.”

He gives you a quick kiss. Once. Twice. “Good. I want to make you feel good.” 

Namjoon circles his middle finger lazily around your clit. Your feet press into the bed, hips pulling up off the sheets. It feels amazing, pleasure sparking in your stomach. “That,” you gasp. “I like that.” 

He dips his head down, attaching his mouth to your neck as he teases your cunt. You don’t have to say anything else, Namjoon’s inquisitive fingers learning what makes you squirm and sigh. You’re a mess beneath him, chest heavy, beats of sweat making your shirt cling to you.

You claw at it, pulling it away from you. Namjoon leans up and lets you take it off, eyes dipping as he smiles appreciatively. He combines the efforts of his fingers with his mouth, bending low to catch a pert nipple with his teeth.

“Shit!” you squeak, making him chuckle again.

His fingers circle your clenching hole, pussy leaking onto his fingers. He presses a finger in and you let out a long, quiet whine. The feeling of his finger pressing against your walls is perfect, your cunt clenching as he shallowing thrusts the finger.

Everything he does is perfect. He sucks at your nipple hungrily as he fingers you slowly, making sure to press up inside your cunt in a way that has you seeing stars. Your fingers tangle in his hair, unable to think about anything except his teeth scraping your sensitive bud and your pussy clenching around his finger.

Namjoon is attentive. The heel of his hand presses to your clit and he eases another finger in, slower than the last. He looks up at you, mouth slick with spit to watch your mouth fall open. You nod, urging him further, sound stuck in your throat. 

The wet squelch between your legs as he fucks you with his fingers is obscene. You like it though, driven by the fact that it’s Namjoon doing it. Namjoon who you saved. Namjoon who watched over you. 

You open your eyes and look up at him, cradling his face in your hands. His forehead is damp with sweat from the heat building in the little shack. His skin is flushed and his hair hangs in his face. You pull at his bottom lip with your thumb and he gazes at you, hungry and wild, pupils blown.

Greedy, you pull him to you. The kiss is more teeth than lips, the two of you panting. Your leg hooks around his waist and you nibble his bottom lip, hips rolling to meet his thrusts, an orgasm starting its ascent. 

“I want you,” you breathe against his mouth. Your lips are sore from arduous kissing. “Please.”

He kisses you. “Okay.”

It’s that simple. You ask for it and he gives it to you.

Namjoon retracts his fingers from your cunt. You feel the sudden loss, fidgeting as you wait. He makes quick work of his pants, kneeling on the bed and bringing his hands covered in your juice to pump his cock. You feel your eyes bulge at his thick length. 

He notices and grins, slowing his movements. You watch as his hand smears precum down his shaft, twisting lightly as he gets to the top, his thumb brushing over his dark tip. “You can take it,” he pants, grinning wolfishly. “I know you can.”

Instead of answering, you nod, lifting your hips eagerly. He hums, pleased as he lets go, cock bobbing heavily while he shuffles over and leans over you. He places his hands on either side of your head, arms flexing as he holds his weight to bend down and steal a quick kiss. 

You kiss back feverishly, one hand traveling between your sweaty bodies to grip his length, trying to stroke him the way he did. He sighs, breaking the kiss and dropping his forehead against your chin as a shiver ripples through him. You smile, continuing to pump him.

“Want to be inside,” he mumbles, barely coherent. 

You open yourself up more, gently guiding the blunt crown of his cock toward your trembling entrance. You hold your breath as his hips follow your hand, breaching your ring of tight muscles and pushing in. 

Immediately your muscles spasm and resist, overwhelmed by Namjoon’s girth. You blow out a long breath as he enters you so, so slowly. It’s heaven and it’s hell, it’s pleasure and it’s pain. Namjoon presses his mouth to you, tongue distracting you as he bottoms out, stuffing you full.

Nothing has ever compared to how stretched you are. He doesn’t move, letting your cunt twitch around him. He holds himself up with one hand, the other brushing up and down your side, squeezing bits of flesh comfortingly as you try to still your beating heart under him.

The pain fades. You get greedy, wiggling your hips back and forth experimentally to feel the way Namjoon’s cock rubs against your walls. He blows out air sharply, a half laugh before his hand drops down to your hip, pushing you down into the bed with his weight as he slides backward.

“Ohhhh,” you sigh, head lolling to the side. The pressure of Namjoon pressing you down as he sets a slow pace of fucking into you is just right. You close your eyes, letting him set a slow pace in silence. “Yeah.” 

Namjoon’s breath is unsteady. Every little sound he makes sets you on fire. You’re pliant beneath him as he picks up his speed, properly fucking into you. One of your hands reaches up to grab his bicep, nails digging in, the other shooting to his hand on your hip, squeezing his wrist. 

Everything feels right. Connected. Overheated. The air is so thick you think you might suffocate, sheets sticking to your balmy skin, toes curling as Namjoon’s cock hits that spot inside of you that drives you mad. 

Nothing but this matters. Nothing but knowing your wolf isn’t really a wolf at all, and that he’s been there all along. Just like you’d hoped. 

“Fuck,” Namjoon pants. “I never dreamed I’d have you.”

“I dreamed of you,” you gasp on a particularly hard thrust, your nails dragging down his arm. “I just didn’t know it.”

His mouth crashes to yours. “Mine,” he growls. “My savior, mine to protect.” 

Your orgasm spins like an out-of-control spool of thread, winding tighter and tighter. Namjoon can tell, chasing your orgasm with reckless abandon, throwing his gentle movements out the window and fucking you hard into the bed. 

The sounds and words coming out of your mouth are useless babble, your thoughts turning murky as that spool tightens so much inside of you that it bursts, unspooling and spilling out of you around Namjoon’s cock. 

You can’t even breathe as you come, feet kicking, nails digging into his skin, teeth clenched. Your heart beats in your ears, the only thing you can hear for a few seconds as you spasm, eyes clenched shut. You are vaguely aware of Namjoon coming shortly after you, your name ripping through clenched teeth as he does. 

There are a few minutes of nothing punctuated by your stilted breathing and rapid pulse. Finally, you blink, stars swimming in your eyes as you look at Namjoon, who hangs his head on your chest. You reach a hand up and run your fingers through his sweaty hair.

Your wolf. Somehow you’d always known it. Even when you thought you were crazy. 

Gently, Namjoon pulls out of you, fluid spilling between your legs. You don’t care, limbs too heavy to move. Your skin is still burning up from exertion and you roll your head to the side to watch Namjoon as he lays next to you, pulling you toward him. 

For a little while, it’s quiet. You listen to the beating of his heart, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. You’re content just to lay there feeling whole just for once. 

After a while, Namjoon sighs. “You have to go back eventually.”

“We.”

“Hmm?”

“We have to go back.”

Namjoon pulls away and frowns at your tone, eyes reading your face. Your mouth is set in a firm line and you look at him with all seriousness. “We’re not letting them get away with what the humans did to you and your family.”

“You want to help?”

“Yes.” You pause. “I think it’s what my father would have wanted. It’s what I want. Even if Yoongi bit me.”

“Yoongi will never bite you again,” he vows fiercely. Then, a little more gently, “But he… would be glad to hear your sympathetic stance. I’m glad to hear it, Red.”

“Good.” You snuggle closer. “You’re mine to protect too. And I will make them pay.”

For Namjoon. For your father. You’ll paint the village red. 

[moonsgemini]

dress - ii

summary: rafe is finally able to show his girl just how much she means to him.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smutty smut, oral (f+m), p in v, smidge of dirty talk, praise kink, rafe, teasing, creampie (hate that), choking (nothing crazy), fluff, fem reader

wc: 3.7k

an: this can be read as a stand alone tbh, also this is my first time writing smut in a while so if it sucks girl I apologize lol I was really losing it towards the end but I pulled through. I TRIED MY BEST PLS

part one

The sunlight seeping through the sheer curtains had gently woken Rafe up. He had been dreaming about her and he wished he could go back to sleep. When he rolled over with his eyes still closed he realized there was someone next to him. He opened his eyes with furrowed brows, his confusion fading once he saw her messy hair sprawled against the pillows. The events of the night before coming back to him.

He smiled to himself feeling content. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. In her sleep she lightly groaned and pushed up against him. Subconsciously trying to get closer. Rafe could get used to this. The smell of her shampoo filling his senses, the warmth of the sun coming through her window. He didn’t even want to sleep anymore he wanted to be awake to enjoy this moment.

What if she woke up and remembered who he was or his reputation and decided she never wanted to see him again. Maybe the kiss last night was a tipsy mistake.

The girl in his arms began to stir awake breaking him from his thoughts. She hummed as she turned to lie on her back, stretching like a cat before turning to face him. Rafe could have died a happy man then and there as he looked at her sleepy eyes and the lazy smile that formed on her lips when she saw him.

“Morning,” she mumbled, almost shy.

He smiled, “Morning.”

He reached forward and brushed her hair out of her face, he wanted to see all of her. A comfortable silence fell over them as they both just observed each other. She couldn’t believe she had this greek god in her bed. Her friends were going to kill her but she didn’t care.

“So what’s for breakfast?” She asked innocently, hinting that she didn’t want the day with him to end yet.

Rafe pretended to think, “hmmm I can think of few things that sound good,” he smirked.

“Oh yeah like what?” She definitely didn’t get his innuendo.

He moved quickly to hover over her, he used his knee to nudge her legs open so he could rest between them. His arms on either side of her head supporting himself up. The closeness made her face get hot. She was suddenly aware that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and he only had boxers on. She was in some tiny shorts and a tank top. She was grateful she didn’t wake up with a boob hanging out.

“I believe I owe you an act of appreciation,” He smirked and placed a soft kiss against her cheek. She closed her eyes and swallowed thickly, he was going to be the death of her.

“What does that have to do with breakfast?” She asked in a breathy whisper. She felt like if she talked too loud she would ruin the moment.

He placed a kiss on her other cheek, her forehead, and then her chin, “Well I see a very sweet meal in front of me. I’ve been dying to get a taste,” he placed on last kiss on her neck. This one lasting a little longer.

Her eyes fluttered closed savoring the contact, “You’re so cheesy,” She laughed softly.

“You turn me into a romantic,” He smiled genuinely and she reciprocated it.

Rafe leaned down to finally place a kiss on her lips. It was just as good as the night before, the kiss feeling like electricity. He sighed like he was finally breathing fresh air. The kiss started out soft and gentle but quickly turned into something more passionate. Like he wanted to make up for all the time they haven’t been doing this. Her hands found purchase in his hair. Tugging at the short strands when his tongue began poking into her mouth.

She had been dying to know what he tasted like and after finding out last night that he was even better than she imagined, she was addicted. She didn’t even care if she had morning breath because it didn’t seem like Rafe cared. One of his hands moved down to her waist. Rubbing up and down, his thumb catching onto her tank top and tugging it slightly. Her skin felt like it was on fire as he touched her. She moved one of her legs to wrap around his hips to tug him closer to her. Rafe hummed in satisfaction.

His hand moving to her hips and legs, touching as much skin as he could. He’d been dreaming of this for so long he wanted to savor it. Take advantage of having her here and feel as much of her as he could. He moved his lips back down to her neck needed to catch his breath.

She let out a small moan as he kissed that spot below her ear. It was like he knew exactly what to do. His kisses started moving lower. He sat up on bis knees and placed his hands on either side of her shirt. Looking at her to ask for permission, he didn’t want to mess this up. He wanted to be perfect for her. She nodded her head quickly, wanting to be naked already.

Rafe tugged her shirt off and lost his breath. He could have cum then and there. She was better than his dreams. She started getting timid as he kept staring at her. She’s slept with people before but it was never like this, no one ever actually looked at her.

He leaned forward and pressed teasing kisses on her stomach working his way up her torso. He cupped her breast in his large hand, his thumb moving back and forth over her nipple gently. He kissed in between her breasts before moving his mouth to the one that wasn’t getting attention. He kissed around it before he wrapped his lips around her nipple, his tongue moving back and forth languidly. He’d switch from licking to gently sucking. She was in heaven, feeling an immense amount of pleasure over something so simple.

“Fuck,” She muttered softly. Arching her back on the mattress to somehow get closer to him.

“You’re amazing,” He muttered as his mouth traveled back up her body. Reaching her lips once again he kissed her with meaning.

Rafe’s hand moved down to her shorts. His fingers skimmed over the top of them, fingers slipping teasingly under the band. He moved to sit back on his knees, he looked at her and groaned at the sight. Her pretty lips were swollen and her chest was moving up and down at a faster pace. Her hair messy around her. He wished he could take a picture but he knows he’ll never forget how she looks in this moment.

He began to rub her thighs before grabbing her shins and pushing her legs up so her knees were bent. He looked at her core seeing how the fabric pulled tightly against her heat. He could tell she wasn’t wearing underwear and he just couldn’t believe he was getting to have his way with her.

She had been struggling below him. Wanting him to do anything, she felt her pussy ache as he just watched her with a dazed expression. She could feel how wet she was already, she had began clenching around nothing. Just the thought of Rafe was enough to turn her on.

She sighed weakly speaking up, “Rafe please do something.”

He looked up at her and smirked, “Patience baby. Good girls are patient.” He rubbed his hands all around the expanse of her thighs. When he’d rub her inner thighs he’d purposely rub his fingers against her clit pretending it was an accident. His hands felt like heaven on her, she was so turned on any contact from him was sending her over the edge.

After what felt like hours he splayed his hand across her groin and his thumb hovered over her center. He teasingly rubbed light circles over the fabric. He could see a small wet patch in the middle of her shorts. It was feeding his ego to know she was this attracted to him. He felt like he didn’t deserve her, she was a goddess in his eyes. Everything about her was so perfect to him, even the way her body reacted to him was perfect.

“Fuck I can’t believe it’s taken us this long,” He pressed his thumb down harder making slow circles.

“I’ve wanted you for so long baby. Have wanted to make you feel good for so long,” His words and the movement of his hands caused jolts of pleasure to go through her body. She felt like she was on cloud nine.

“Oh Rafe I’ve needed you for so long,” She sighed opening her eyes to find him already looking at her. He had been watching her reactions enjoying how good he was making her feel.

She let out a small wine when he pulled his hand away but then he swiftly moved one of her legs to the other side and pulled off her shorts. He put her leg back to where it was so he was in between them again. He positioned her back to how she was with her feet flat on the bed. He licked his lips, saliva pooling in his mouth as he gaped at her glistening pussy. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

“Baby you’re so gorgeous,” He mumbled as he moved lower on the bed to lay on his stomach. His face now level with her hips. He kissed the inside of her thighs beginning from the top of the knee to where her legs met her groin. He did this on each side wanting to savor her.

She felt like she was being worshipped with the way he kissed her and touched her. Like he thought she was better than him and needed to be indulged and savored. Rafe used two fingers to run through his slit, his fingers getting coated in her arousal as he rubbed between her folds. The squelching sound turning him on even more if it was possible. Rafe felt drunk off of her.

He almost missed the pretty sounds that were leaving her mouth because he was so concentrated on the area that needed him most. She moaned and whined at the feeling of his fingers running over her. Her hands were gripping his hair. He pulled away and wrapped each of his hands around each of her thighs to spread her even wider.

Rafe leaned his head against her inner thigh as he went back to rub her clit in that way that made her eyes roll back. He would do that then move his fingers down to run through her folds to gather her wetness. He teasingly pushed the tips of his fingers into her. She let out a louder moan at this. He couldn’t wait to be inside of her. But he also wanted to tease her for as long as possible.

“You like that?” He asked not looking up at her too concentrated on rubbing circles on her clit. His other hand, that wrapped around the leg he was leaning on, reached up to cup her breast. The feeling of his fingers tweaking her nipple lightly was sending her closer to the edge.

“You’re so wet for me, you’re such a good girl.” He said turning to kiss her thigh lightly. He moved his fingers down her slippy folds teasingly until he got to her entrance again.

“Always wanna be good for you Rafe,” She whined trying to lift hips up to his fingers. If he would just put them inside of her already she’d come in two seconds.

He smiled as he slowly pushed two fingers into her, “You are good my love, the best.” He murmured as he watched some of her arousal drip down his fingers as he pushed farther in.

She was tight and warm, his dick aching in his boxers to be inside of her. But he could wait. He moved his fingers in and out slowly. His fingers curving up getting that spot that made her back arch and moans fall unabashedly from her lips. She could never reach it herself and no other partner had tried. But Rafe’s long fingers were perfect, he knew her body already.

He started to pick up the pace as her moans got louder. He could feel her walls squeezing him and that wet sounds of his movements never stopping. He lifted his head from his position and leaned forward wrapping his lips around her clit. He continued with his fingers as well.

She moaned loudly, “Oh shit I’m about to cum babe.” Her eyes were closed not being able to keep them open because of the pleasure. That fire in her stomach suddenly exploded and a tingling feeling over took her whole body. Her back arched off the bed, her legs squeezing around Rafe’s head as he relentlessly sucked and licked.

He started to slow down once she had come down from her high. He slowly removed his fingers but continued to clean her with his mouth. Not wanting to miss a single drop. After he lifted himself up to be on top of her again.

“Open,” Rafe said as he hovered over her.

Eager to obey she opened her mouth and he placed the two fingers that were inside of her on her tongue. She closed her mouth and moaned at the taste of herself on his fingers. She closed her eyes and sucked on his fingers licking him clean.

“Good girl,” He leaned down and kissed her. Her hips lifted up as she felt the tip of his dick in his boxers rub against her core. She needed him but she also wanted to make him feel good.

She pulled away and pushed his chest, “Lay down please,” she said softly knowing she would get her way with how she was looking at him. With big innocent eyes, ones he couldn’t say no to. He got off of her and laid next to her. She followed him and got on top.

y/n sat directly on his dick. His hard length pressed against her dripping core. She moaned closing her eyes leaning her head back. The feeling of him against her core was sending her over the edge. Any touch from him was making her feel like she was on fire. She leaned down to kiss him. Her hips slowing moving to grind against him, the friction causing a satisfied moan to break their kiss.

“I need to be inside of you,” Rafe said roughly, his hands gripping her hips. He pressed her down harder against him wanting more.

She kissed his chin then pressed a few kisses across his neck. Rafe closed his eyes and savored her gentleness. She continued to kiss down his chest as she moved lower. Her hands following as well as they felt the expanse of his muscular chest and torso.

She tugged at his boxers, “But I want to take care of you first,” She had a mischievous look in her eye. One that made Rafe swallow roughly.

“oh sweet girl,” He sighed, “You’re too good to me. Gonna wrap your pretty mouth around my cock?” He reached down and cupped her her face. His thumb stroking back and forth before it started tugging on her bottom lip. Y/n leaned forward with an open mouth taking and sucking on his thumb. Her tongue swirled back and forth and Rafe could have came just with that.

He knows he won’t last long if he lets her go down on him but he can’t find any words to say. Especially not when her ass is in the air as she hovers over him. Her big eyes staring up at him eager to please, how was he supposed to not let her do this?

She took his silence as a good sign and continued tugging his boxers off. His length came out slapping against his stomach. Her mouth watered at the sight, she had never wanted to please someone so badly.

She licked a stripe on the underside of his cock. Rafe let out a sigh, it felt like torture in the best way. She spit in her hand before wrapping it around him, her hand moving up and down as she got it wet. She leaned forward and took the tip into her mouth, teasing him by sucking and licking softly.

His hips moved up trying to get her to take more of him. She was killing him, he had never felt this good. She took more of him and her mouth. Threw her teasing out the window and bobbed her head up and down taking him in her mouth. Rafe groaned at the feeling of her wet warm mouth. His hands reached down to wrap around her hair and hold a makeshift pony tail. Rafe felt immediately close once he saw her swollen lips around him with drool dripping down her chin. Her eyes watering from taking him deep.

He pushed her away abruptly trying to catch his breath, “I’m literally going to cum if you don’t stop that, and I have a lot I still want to do to you.” He smirked standing up on knees and going behind her.

Rafe pushed her gently forward. Y/n went up the bed and bent over. Her ass in the air with her core on full display for him. He could see that she was still wet as her folds glistened, his ego inflated at the thought of her getting wet from giving him head. He leaned forward and wrapped his lips around her clit. He sucked gently before licked a few stripes across all of her.

He pulled away and slapped her ass. She moaned softly at the feeling shaking her hips and pushing herself towards him. Rafe grabbed his length and gave himself a few pumps before lining himself up with her entrance. He pushed forward slowing getting inside of her. They both moaned at the different feelings of pleasure. He was stretching her so good she couldn’t help but roll her eyes back.

He rubbed his hands all over her ass as he continued to push inside of her at a slow pace, “You’re so tight baby. So wet too fuck,” Now fully inside of her he leaned his head back at the feeling, “I’ve been obsessed with you since we met.”

He began to move his hips back and forth slowly, “Rafey you feel so good inside,” She moaned. He began to pick up the pace wanting her to be louder for him. He was hitting every spot she needed.

The room was being filled with the sounds of their moans and their skin slapping. Rafe had been waiting for so long for this and it was even better than he imagined. He couldn’t wait to give her what she deserves outside of the bedroom. He wanted to buy her everything she needed, would even get her a new house if she asked. He couldn’t wait to please her in every way.

Reaching forward he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her up so her back was against his chest. The new angle he was fucking her at felt incredible. She leaned her head back laying on his shoulder, he brought his hand around her placing it over her neck.

Rafe was in heaven, he felt like the luckiest guy in the world by being able to have her like this. His other hand reached down her stomach until his fingers were over her clit. He gathered some of her arousal and began moving his fingers in circles. An unbelievable amount of please ran through her body. She started to feel that familiar knot in her stomach start to get tighter and tighter.

“Rafe I’m g-gonna cum,” She was able to mumble out through moans. Her mind was a mess and her vision was hazy. All she could think about and focus on was Rafe. Her body fell forward so her lower half was back on the bed.

“Cum for me baby,” He said gruffly into her ear doing his best not to cum yet. She let out a loud moan telling him she was cumming. Her face was buried into the mattress muffling her cries. He felt her walls tighten around him and he groaned, leaning his head back at the feeling. He slowed his pace as she finished.

Rafe fully pulled out and gently moved her to lay on her back. He wasted no more time and pushed into her once again. She let out a gasp at the feeling of him. Rafe began to thrust in and out of her. The wet sounds from her arousal getting him even closer. Rafe groaned at the sight of her, he leaned forward and captured her lips in his.

Their tongues danced against each other. Her hands running through his hair and scratching at his back when he’d hit that particular spot inside her. She arched her back, their faces still close together. She really liked Rafe and she really hoped this would be a one time thing.

“Ah shit where do you want me to cum?” He asked as he felt himself close to finishing.

“Inside, fuck I’m gonna cum,” She whined as she felt her whole body go tingly. Her whole body on fire. She couldn’t lie that if her head wasn’t so dizzy she’d say somewhere else but she needed him in every way. And she was on birth control.

“Fuck,” Rafe’s pace picked up as he came inside of her. After finishing he slowed down, breathing heavily. He pulled out gently and laid next to her.

y/n turned to lay her head on his chest. His heart was pounding, hearing it made a small smirk appear on her lips. They didn’t speak for a couple of minutes just enjoying the silence and being close to each other.

“I really like you if I haven’t made that clear enough,” Rafe said breaking the silence.

She laughed, “I really like you Rafe. I have for a while.”

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to do something,“ He ran his fingers through her hair.

She turned to look up at him, “We’re together now.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her, “Will you let me take you out somewhere nice tonight?”

“Yes of course,” She kissed one more time barely being able to because she couldn’t stop smiling.

-

tags: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @kw13cheer @weareatthebadlands (if I missed you I apologize!!)

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt idfk tbh

Pairing: Sauron/Halbrand x Reader, Saurons/Halbrand x Galadriel, mentioned Isildur x Reader

Summary: And again, Sweet One is all alone.

Tags: Major tw for blood. Violence, grief, talk of death, crying, angst, some fluff at the end perhaps if you squinted maybe

Notes: not super well edited. But here's some angsty angst. I couldn't bring myself to write about sweet one realizing that Isil is dead. I cried the entire time writing this.

It's just blood.

You reminded yourself of this over and over. Your hands were covered so much that your skin was painted red. It dried and cracked against your knuckles, the smell of it filling your nose. But it was just blood. How many times had you stitched a wound, applied a bandage? This was nothing new. It was just blood.

You took a shaky breath, closing your eyes and exhaling before getting back to work stitching skin together. There was a poison inside the wound, but if left alone, he would surely bleed out. The amount he had lost already was concerning enough. It drenched his clothes, seeped on to blankets, and painted your hands.

It's just blood.

You tied up the stitch and bit off the string with your teeth. The blood-soaked bandage contrasted against pale skin. Too pale. If you touched it, it felt clammy. It was cold but slick with sweat from fever. He was sick. He likely wouldn't get better. You sat back and, without thinking, pressed the back of your hand against your mouth to help sniffle any cry that would come.

It was just blood, but now you could taste it. Metallic and still warm. It wasn't just blood anymore. It was his blood. Your hands were drenched in his blood. Your nostrils were filled with his blood. Your tongue tasted it, your lips stained with it, and you were surrounded by it.

You couldn't stay in the tent. It felt as if it was closing around you, like air was being taken from your lunges. The fresh air on your face did nothing to stop the overpour of feelings. The ache to your soul. Your feet carried you away, the tents and people and horses but a blur as you walked and walked and walked. Until the chatter of soldiers was but a whisper, and the air no longer smelled of burning wood but of salt. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was what broke you from your haze. You stared out at the horizon. The dream life you had for yourself in Numenor felt miles away. It was a past that didn't even feel like yours anymore.

You were alone.

You had gotten used to friendship and love. You had gotten used to having someone to lean on, to talk to, to laugh with. You had been happy, hope had won out like you knew it would. Yet here you were, alone again.

Isildur was dead, Elendil couldn't bring himself to look at you, Halbrand didn't have much time either. Three days ago, you were in love, laughing with your best friend. Today, you were covered in the blood of your love, mourning a friend whose body could never be recovered.

“Death isn't the end, little one.” The deep voice of your father once told you, not long after mother had passed. “You will see her again. In the smell of the flowers. In the colors of the sunset. She will always be here.”

You had asked him what would happen when he died. He told you he'd always be with you. Anytime you felt a breeze would be him giving you a hug. It wasn't long after that he'd found your grandfather's old books, and he spiraled into insanity. Your heart ached for him now. You needed his warm breath and the strong hug that took all your fears away. You missed the hum of your mothers voice and the way she stroked your hair. Your brother's stupid jokes that always made you laugh.

Their deaths almost destroyed you. They left holes in your heart that could never be filled, but that ache was made easier these past months. Whenever Isildur would smirk and whisper something incredibly stupid into your ear just to make you laugh. Or Elendil would bring you into a hug when he greeted you. Or how Halbrands' presence seemed to calm you. Even Galdriel reminded you of your hard-headed uncle. It all was a bit easier to bear. The missing parts of you weren't so loud. It wasn't so hard to drown out the sorrow.

Now they were gone again.

You fell to your knees, your fingers digging into the sand. A scream ripped through your lungs, quickly followed by deep, gasping sobs. They were so powerful that you were bent over. Memories replayed in your mind, over and over. Your chest ached, and your throat was sore. You cried, and you sobbed until there was nothing left to do but look out over the ocean, watching the gentle waves.

“Why'd you leave me? I wasn't ready to say goodbye, Mama.” You spoke softly, your lip trembling.

You watched the sky change from blue to a beautiful hue of orange and pink, a breeze rustled your hair, and you could smell the smallest hint of lavender. You closed your eyes and inhaled the scent, behind your closed eyes you could see the smirking face of your brother as I leaned in and spoke, with a voice you'd been missing for years, “Did you know the fastest horse in the world is faster than all other horses?”

Perhaps you were crazy, but for a moment, as you basked in the sunset, with the breeze in your hair and a smile on your face, it felt like your family was one once more.

~

By the time you were back in the village, Galadriel had returned. You'd never expected to feel relieved to see that head of blonde hair. You made eye contact with her, and her eyes darted briefly to your hands covered in blood. Instead of any look of condemnation, though,she instead gave you one of respect. Perhaps she'd been told of how you worked tirelessly to heal the wounds of the injured. Perhaps the eruption of the Mountain of Fire had given her some perspective. You two were headed for the same tent, though you stayed a few steps behind. You still did not know where Halbrands' heart was, and if it was truly with her, you'd allow her an uninterrupted reunion. You stayed right outside the tent.

“Better for me if I had done.”

Of course, he spoke to her. You had to remind yourself that it wasn't fair to think that way. He was dying. He could not control when he was awake or when he was asleep. Something about it still stung.

“He needs elvish medicine. Can he ride?”

“I'll have the healers gather provisions.”

With that, you stepped into the tent, and your eyes darted to Halbrand and his to you. The moment he saw you, he moved to get up, but he winced in pain and laid back down.

“I'll get two horses ready. I'll make sure they have what they need.” You told Bronwyn, you feel Halbrands eyes on you, but you didn't look at him. Perhaps that was cruel for the state he was in, but if he was being taken to the elves, he would have more than a fair chance at survival.

“Three horses,” his voice was broken as he spoke.

“Halbrand,” Galadriel spoke.

“No,” he looked at her and then back to you. “I will not leave you here. I will not leave you alone.”

“I do not suspect in the slightest that I will be welcomed in any elven city.” You reminded him, finally looking upon him. His sickly face and pale skin broke your heart.

“Then I will not go.”

“Halbrand,” you shook your head, “you will die.”

“I will not go where you are not welcome. I will not leave you if you can not follow.”

You were about to speak once more, protesting his stubbornness, but Galadriel spoke first.

“Celebrimbor will not turn us away. He will not turn her away.” She looked from Halbrand to you, “He will see the content of her character and the motive of her heart and realize that no darkness lies within her. That what tainted her kin had never touched her. She will ride with us to Eregion.”

[rhiannonsknife]

i love you like the moon loves the stars, like the sun loves the flowers, like one piece of the puzzle fits with the other. i love you to the moon and back, and some more.

“you make it bearable”

this is what got me, tbh. literally in tears and in love with this work.

if you can take the time to make the bot of this, i would’ve appreciated it deeply. if not, i’ll reread this masterpiece over and over again <33

— summary: you’re taking care of lottie after a ritual.

— a/n: thank you so so much!! <3 i hope you like this bot as well! based on this blurb! info + link below <3

the cabin is cold, and the air smells of damp wood and ash from the fire barely keeping everyone warm. lottie sits in the old tub, her back turned to you, shoulders slumped. the water is murky now, tinged pink from the blood you’ve rinsed off her hands and arms. her breathing is shallow, and she doesn’t say much. she hasn’t since the ritual earlier today.

you try to be gentle as you scrub the dirt and dried blood from her palm, her fingers limp in your grasp. the silence between you isn’t uncomfortable. it never is with lottie. you know what she’s taken on, the weight she carries, not just for herself but for all of you.

no one else could do what she’s doing. no one else would listen to the wilderness like she does, give it what it asks for, no matter the cost. you trust her in a way that no one else seems to, even when they roll their eyes or whisper behind her back. you trust her because she’s the only one who’s made you feel like there’s a purpose to all this chaos.

the rag in your hand drags over a fresh cut on her forearm, and she flinches slightly but doesn’t pull away. “sorry,” you murmur, your voice soft.

“it’s fine,” she says, so quiet you almost don’t hear her. then, after a moment, she adds, “i don’t think anyone’s ever taken care of me like this before” her voice wavers, raw, as if she’s not only talking about the blood or the wounds but something deeper.

you pause, your hand lingering on her arm. “you don’t have to do this alone, you know,” you say, and even though she doesn’t respond, you can see the way her shoulders soften.

when you finish tying the last strip of cloth around her arm, you sit back, your fingers brushing hers briefly. she looks up at you, her face still pale, her eyes tired but filled with something warm, something unspoken. “you make it bearable,” she murmurs.

— c.ai

[rowarn]

I’m so happy i found your blog ;___; your soft simon/konig are literally a breath of fresh air like the other anon said😍💕 you write them so well and so tender and caring, they’re literally dream men tbh😮‍💨💕 what are yiur thoughts on how they’d be w a reader whose inexperienced?? both when it comes to intimacy and love in general (im thinking of a feral and skittish cat 🐈‍⬛ who mistrusts every approach and touch and backs away 😭) i always read abiut these men when they’re w a reader who is very sure of her self/sexuality and confidently engages w them (and don’t get me wrong i love reading it regardless!) but what abour when reader has no clue how to act/what to do and is kinda ashamed about it bc she doesn’t want to let her partner down bc she still possesses the v card🥴

(im totally not projecting 😭🙊 btw it’s totally fine if you don’t want to answer this!! wouldn’t want to overwhelm or cross any limits!)

HI MY LOVE IM GLAD UR ENJOYING MY STUFF!!!

hmmm i think both simon and könig wouldn't actually rlly say anything about sex unless you brought it up.

simons very perceptive, he can tell that you're a little shy and skittish about anything too intimate so he keeps his touches pg and simply follows your lead. he lets you guide the pace and he won't bring up getting his dick wet unless you do first.

if he catches on that you may actually want to properly discuss it (even if u don't flat out say it, again he can tell if somethings on your mind <3) then he'll be SO patient and soft with you as he listens. if you're embarrassed or scared, he'll do his best to reassure you that he's not some bumbling idiot who doesn't know how to make it feel good. and he's also not the type to really care about the idea of virginity. doesn't matter to him; he'll guide you and teach you everything snd he'll be so careful and sweet with you, you don't need to worry. he's not great with words but he does his best to get his thoughts across to put you at ease!!

könig wont bring it up bc he's kind of nervous. his thoughts sort of race when he doesn't get a black and white answer so when he notices you're a little skittish about him touching you, he goes thru 400 different reasons why and doesn't want to ask and scare u off by thinking he's some sex obsessed maniac (he's a pro at catastrophizing!!!)

will not ever bring it up avtually, you definitely will have to sit him down and spell out your thoughts to him. he'll noticeable relax in relief when he realizes you're not scared of him you're just....embarrassed?

unlike simon, he is pretty good with words. he blunt and gets straight to the point. he'll tell you that he's...big....everywhere and that he knows how to prep you so it won't hurt and that he would be SO careful if u felt like you were ready. he also assures you that it's nothing to be embarrassed about. contrary to simon, he does understand that some people view their virginity as something special and that if u want he can make it a rlly romantic evening for u!! it's up to u!!! just tell him what u want and he will follow your lead without a single thought <3

overall, simon isn't rlly the type to just jump into bed unless he gets the idea that you CLEARLY want to have sex with him. he's had his fair share of bedmates and he will definitely be able to pick up on any flirting. if he thinks you might not want to have sex, he wont say anything. he's a grown man who doesn't need to get his dick wet (: he's got his hand (yum) <3

and könig is.....könig. he's just happy to be here <3

I HOPE I ANSWERED UR QUESTIONS!!!!!

[itonashi]

Hi I saw your requests were open

Would it be okay to ask for a Nozel from black clover fic where Nozel who has been very busy for months and neglecting his wife s/o and ends up having a huge argument with s/o when she confronts him about it and they both give eachother the silent treatment but later finds her collapsed because she got super sick from the overstress and not taking care of herself cuz she thought nozel didn't love her anymore and would divorce her or she thought maybe he fell out of love with her and found someone better

I just love nozel angst to fluffs

ONLY LOOK AT ME.

pairing: nozel silva x wife!reader

warning: neglect, sick, fluff, angst

note: ill be honest with you, i completely forgot what the magical team are called like i completely forgot the lore of black clover... sorry for the late. alot of things have been going on tbh.

2 years of marriage with nozel silva.

in the beginning of your marriage, nozel treated you with care even though he was the captain of a magic knight group. you knew the responsibilities those captains hold.

you knew it all to well. nozel became too busy to the point that you don't even see a strand of his hair at home. whenever nozel became too busy, you didn't know if you want to confront him about it or just let it go — but he neglect you too much.

whenever you tried to ask him to eat dinner with you, it was always the same response — "i have mission" or "i still have a lot more paperwork" with that cold tone of his. you know nozel is trying his best but won't he look at you once when saying that? at least try to make sure you knew you were still loved by him.

it has been more than 3 weeks, you couldn't handle it anymore so this time you tried to be brave and confront him about it.

"nozel, do you have time right now?" you ask him with that soft tone of yours. nozel glanced at you "i do, what is it?" for the first time in weeks he finally face you and look at you in the eyes.

you breath in and out "nozel, don't you think you're neglecting me too much? i know that you have your duties as a captain but can't you atleast.. please, if you actually have the time to atleast tend to your husband duties? is this asking too much for you?" you were shaking because this is the first time you confront nozel about anything.

you hoped that his answer wouldn't hurt like a stab on the heart.

"i have been neglecting you? [name], i have bigger duties to do. i cannot just linger around. clover kingdom is the magic knight's responsibility and im a captain." he said with his famous cold tone of his. he sighed loudly and you can't help but grip your first.

"i know. i know that you have your duties but please atleast try to make it like you still loved me!" you exclaimed while you were on the verge of tears. you look down on the floor and nozel sigh yet another time.

"[name], stop being overdramatic. i will try to make time for you." he tried to reach out for you but you slap his hand away. "you better promise that then. don't make any empty promise..." you glance at him, his face was shocked with how you push him away.

"ah, nozel! im sorry. i didn't me-"

"maybe it was a mistake for me to have this talk with you."

after that argument you had a few days ago, you gave silent treatment to each other. you didn't greet him home neither did he come looking for you. ever since that day you found comfort in isolating yourself in the bedroom that's always occupied by two people but now the other side of the bed felt cold.

it ruins your mental health though, without the company of your lover, you felt like your world is falling apart. the maids tried to make you eat the foods but you didn't. you kept rejecting them.

just like how nozel was, you started to be diligent in your duties on taking care of the house but you overworked yourself to the point whenever you stand up from your seat, you get a major headache.

you started to not going out of the house to have fresh airs and just locked yourself in. the staffs were worried about you. they whispered to eachother what will happen to you and nozel's marriage. will it break?

you sit on the edge of your bed while gripping your head "it hurts..." you mumbled to yourself. this time, you couldn't handle the stress and the headaches. you felt dizzy and nausea. soon enough, you fainted in your room.

hours later, nozel finally came back from his mission and wanted too relax in his room for abit when he suddenly saw the state you're in after he entered the room. he ran over to you and carried you to the bed, he called the maids to help him with you.

"[name], [name], what happened to you? please wake up!" he panicked seeing you in that state. your skin was pale and your breathing was also low. it put nozel into being an overthinker.

he questioned the staffs on the reason why you fainted. the staffs that was around him had a panicked look. they knew the reason why so one of them spoke up "[name]-sama has been overworking herself. s-she also hadn't been eating well. we tried to let her rest and also tried to make her eat but she refused too... also! we don't want to put any blame but we think that it's because of you, nozel-sama. maybe it's because of the big argument you two had few days ago..." the staff stammered, the staff looked around the room instead of meeting nozel's eyes while saying that. the other staffs agreed with what they said.

nozel had a shocked face after he heard the reason, he looked back towards your sleeping figure. "it's... because of me?" nozel thought, he bit the inside of his cheeks. he remembered the argument all too well. so because of that, you overworked yourself..?

nozel cleared his throat and ordered the staffs to get out of the room, the staffs hurried out of the room not wanting to witness nozel's wrath. well they assumed that nozel is gonna be mad at them.

the room is finally quiet with only you two's own breathing. nozel sit beside you on the bed and looked at your face. he felt guilty and regretted what he said. he knew the damage can't be undone.

but this time, he will try and only look at her. even if his work keep piling up, his wife's happiness is his first priority. he will try to be the better version. he will try to have quality time with her.

he will try balancing work life and his private life.

"if you thought that i fell out of love. i didn't, instead i fell in love with you all over again. you can't hear me right now but forgive me. forgive my behavior. im yours forever."

[marsbutterfly]

HANJI ON DATING APPS HEADCANNONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Headcanons: Hanji Zoe Using Dating Apps

a/n: alright so idk SHIT about dating apps, never used them, never will, but tbh this was funny as fuck. not really proud of these but oh well, sorry :(

warnings: none <3 not beta read, we die like men <3

/ So the first time Hanji ever used a dating app was after a pretty bad breakup. their relationship was kind of a long one and they felt like "a love like that" would never happen for them again, like they messed up their one chance at a happy life. but their friends convinced them to try their best to move on and download at least three different dating apps.

/ they weren't really sure what to add to their profile, so they went on google and started searching things like "best bios to add to hinge" or "what to add to your tinder profile" or even stupid shit like "funny dating bios to pick up girls."

/ their bio ended up a combination of their hobbies, all of their college degrees just to show every girl they come in contact with just how smart they are, the names of all their cats, and some other curiosities about them here and there.

/ they only added three pictures of themselves: their favorite selfie, a picture taken by Moblit during one of their hikes and a full body picture compared to a measuring tape to show how tall they are. it was taken while they were drunk but they thought it was hilarious enough that it might earn points with "the ladies."

/ the rest of the pictures on their dating profile is just their cats. like, with more descriptions about the cats than they gave a description about themselves. that's just how much they care about the cats. does it work? like a fucking charm.

/ the first few days their profile was up, they completely forgot about it. it wasn't until Moblit texted them saying a girl in his class asked for their phone number after seeing their profile and not getting a match that they remembered the thing. And oh did they have A LOT of notifications.

/ messages from girls ranging from asking about their day to the girl who begged moblit for their phone number to a couple who were a little creepy about the cats, not really caring about hanji themselves, only wanting to meet their cats.

/ while still trying to learn to use the apps, they saw a picture of you. their heart nearly stopped and, in a moment where their brain stopped working, they swiped the wrong way and your profile was lost forever. they tried for so long to find you again but with no luck.

/ finally, after long days of scrolling, they set up a date with one of the least threatening girls. not because they want to, but because levi will not shut up about it, they agreed to have a single date, nothing more. if it goes well, great. if it doesn't, they'll give up on this dating app bullshit until they feel like they are actually ready.

/ their date goes well. they go to a coffee shop and talk for a while. the girl will not let them talk, she just keeps going on and on about herself and her life and how amazing she is. so hanji has to distract themselves, looking around the shop, focusing on the smell of their coffee, but their breathing hitches the minute you walk in.

/ your bright smile lights up the entire room, the smell of fresh flowers of your perfume filling the air and replacing the smell of the coffee, the way your skirt shifts when you walk and the way you are laughing at your friend's joke. everything about you so damn captivating that they can't help but stare.

/ you can feel a pair of eyes fixated on you, so you lift your gaze from your phone. your eyes immediately find theirs and your heart nearly stops in your chest. their whiskey brown eyes stuck with yours, neither of you being able to torn your gaze away for even a split second.

/ your friend asks for your order and you have to shake your head to bring yourself back to reality. turning to face the barista, you stutter out your order before turning around as soon as you are done talking, making sure the beautiful person who once stared at you is still looking.

/ their date hasn't noticed that they aren't paying attention, they even pull out their phone to answer a call in the middle of the date and hanji takes that chance to excuse themselves, eagerly walking through the crowd to get to you.

/ their hands are trembling in excitement, phone in hand as they are eager to take down your phone number. once standing behind you, it takes them a few seconds to actually tap on your shoulder, but when you turn around, their heart nearly stops.

/ you are the most beautiful girl they have ever seen. their words nearly fail to come out as they speak. "I- Hi.. I'm Hanji." the trembling in their voice is the most endearing sound you have ever heard in your entire life, so you smile at them, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

/ the two of you talk for a while and decide to exchange phone numbers. by the time you leave the coffee shop, hanji's date still hasn't noticed they've gotten up so they just pay for her coffee and run into the street after you.

/ they ask if you are free tonight and you look at your friend, silently asking her to go away. you smile and nod, saying something along the lines of "oh, looks like i am free right now!"

/ as the two of you walk down the street, laughing at some stupid joke, hanji pulls out their phone, immediately deleting their profile on all the dating apps and deleting the apps themselves. they can't wait to rub it on moblit and levi's face the fact that the apps did not work at all.