#would love to hear your takes on the story!!! perhaps

[shomatoriashi]

11/29/24; 03:03pm

dragon!sylus x fem.reader

notes: for all the sylus girlies out there, this is going to be my thirstiest and most self-indulgent dragon!sylus fic (⺣◡⺣)♡ again, this is all just my interpretation and it may not even be close to canon!

warnings: monster f-cking oh my god i can't believe i'm going to do this since i've never written this type of spicy story before 😭😭😭😭😭 i'm sorry if this ends up sucking so bad !! i just want to type out my spicy thoughts hhhhhh

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

night had fallen across your small village, painting the once lively desert in somber hues of blue. with the moonlight as your guide, you drape your shawl even closer to your body to help with warding off the cold air.

as you made your way to the oasis, your mind was filled with anxious thoughts pertaining to your mother. she had once again fallen ill, her frail body being taken over by a fever as she struggled to even breathe while she lay motionless in bed. your heart was filled with love for your mother as you spent the night wiping the sweat from her brow with a damp cloth, not wishing to leave her side.

feeling your presence next to her, her eyes blearily meet with your gaze as a tiny smile paints her expression. "you should...rest..." even with her reassuring words, you refused to leave her side.

yet when your bucket of water runs dry, you knew you had to leave your mother to get more water. you needed to help her with breaking her fever, and in order to do that, you had to get more water from the oasis. leaving the damp cloth across her brow, you told her that you would return soon before setting off towards the crystalline pool of water. each step that you take brings an image of your sickly mother and the thought of how much weaker she had become-

with a click of your tongue, you banish such intrusive beliefs, refusing to even entertain the thought that you would ever lose her. fighting back against the cold, you push forward as you made your trek across the sands, noticing the palm trees and the sight of those ruby red flowers in the distance as they swayed in the wind. anticipation was felt coursing through your veins, your legs now breaking out into a run until you were just a mere few feet away from the crystalline waters of the pond-

but as fate would have it, you were not alone.

settled in the midst of the pond was what appeared to be a winged demon, his wings remaining spread as you felt pinpricks of fear clenching around your heart. your breathing was uneven and heavy as you slowly backed away from him, only to see the demon lift his head, his silvery hair seeming to glow beneath the moonlight.

"your heavy breathing is a dead giveaway." you gasp, feeling your heart jump within the confines of your throat the moment he suddenly appears before you. rufescent eyes gaze down at you in amusement as full lips remain tilted up in a smirk. your eyes trail toward his silver locks of hair and finally noticed the two horns settled atop his head (the image reminding you of a dark and regal crown). from his broad chest to the alluring crimson gemstone settled in the middle of his pale skin-

the demon was equal parts devastatingly beautiful and terrifying to you.

his wings end up engulfing you, trapping your body against his as he takes in a deep whiff of your hair before trailing the tip of his nose against your skin. as he takes in your scent, you were certain that he could hear the way your heart seemed to pound from out of your ribcage.

"yet perhaps what's more distracting than your breathing is the lingering scent of death you have..."

his words succeed in making your heart cease its beat, your fear now replaced with anxiety as you narrowed your gaze at him. "w-what do you mean?"

a look of intrigue was seen settled within his crimson gaze. "there's no need to be so frightened, treasure. you look to be as healthy as a mare... yet someone close to you-"

mother...!

you gripped at the demon's shoulder, allowing your nails to dig into them while your gaze became wild, "my mother... you're referring to my mother. please, can you save her?!"

he doesn't answer your panicked words, but at this point, you were willing to do anything to save the only family you had left-

even if it meant forging a deal with the devil.

"please, i'll do anything for her! if you have the means to save her-"

the demon lets out a deep chuckle, the sound being enough to send almost pleasant vibrations down your spine. using his free hand, he wraps it around your waist, bringing you closer to his naked chest while at nearly eye level with the ruby settled on it. "relax, treasure... if you're willing to do anything, then i suppose i can give you this."

as if it were made by magic itself, he gently pulls something out of your hair, extracting a vial that held a deep red liquid. "give this to your mother, and it shall heal any ailment that she has."

hope erupts within your chest, yet before you could utter another word, the devil whispers into your ear, "remember your promise to me, treasure."

and with those final words, he disappears away from you, leaving you alone with an empty bucket and a mysterious vial. not wishing to wait another second, you rush back to your mother, nearly pushing your body to its limits.

your lungs were burning now when you finally reached home, a quaint little hut settled near the edge of your village. you enter and immediately go to your mother, holding her frail frame closer to your chest as you uncapped the vial and open your mother's mouth, pouring the crimson liquid inside.

she coughs a bit, but manages to swallow the entire contents of the vial. once you were certain the vial was emptied, you toss it to the side, watching your mother with baited breath.

despite your anxiety, you felt your hope continue to grow when there were noticeable changes seen within your mother. the color slowly came back to her skin, her lips no longer appearing ashen and dry. along with those changes, you noticed how her hair slowly became glossier, and as she opened her eyes, it was clear that they were livelier than ever.

"mother...!" letting out chocked sobs, you cling to your mother, basking in her soft coos of your name as she places a gentle kiss against the top of your hair.

and as you sought the comfort of your mother's arms, you remained blissfully unaware of glowing ruby eyes watching your every move.

{ ... }

your life had gotten brighter with your mother by your side, healthy and glowing with vitality. now that you had her back, the memory of the devil and your promise to him became a distant memory-

however, it would quickly become apparent that not even demons would go back on their words.

one late evening, as you were in the midst of making supper with your mother, the sounds of a stampede approaching fills your heart with dread. the commotion doesn't go unnoticed by your mother as her eyebrows remain furrowed in response.

"what is going on?"

you put a finger over your lips, blowing out all of the lit candles as you listened intently to the conversation from outside of your home.

"our king has requested that we find her and bring her to him."

"but of course, as if i would be foolish enough to go against the drake borne from shadows."

upon hearing such a strange title, your mouth goes dry as your mind goes back to that fateful night-

the night the demon had helped with saving your mother from appearing at death's door-

he had remembered after all.

the sounds of footsteps grow louder and heavier, giving you little time to react when the flimsy door of your home was kicked down. dozens of men dressed in suits of armor began crowd around you, and your mother's panicked cries made your head spin.

"it's her, his bride...!"

"get your hands off of my daughter!" your mother's shrill cries echo within your ear as she tried to claw at the men who had captured you.

"get this wench away from us!" the broad man holds you close to his armored chest while tossing your mother a large pouch filled with gold. "take this as a gift from our king... consider it a dowry of sorts."

"you bastard, give my daughter back to me! SHE'S WORTH MORE THAN JUST A MERE FEW PIECES OF GOLD!" your mother cries out to them, about to reach out to you once more when you stopped her.

"no, it's okay... i'll be okay..." you swallow back your tears and meet her gaze, "i-i was the one who made a deal with the devil. h-he saved your life... and i promised to repay him."

a pained expression crosses your mother's features, "w-what do you mean...?"

the knights remain silent, yet still kept you in a tight grip to prevent you from running away, "that night when you suffered from a fever... you were close to dying... and he had sensed that. i didn't wish to lose you, so he gave me this vial filled with a deep crimson liquid-"

"you have been blessed by the shadow dragon's blood, do not let my king's sacrifice go to waste."

you felt your heart break the moment your mother's face crumpled a bit when she realizes the truth, with her hands immediately covering her lips as she watches you being taken away from her.

as they began to carry you out of your hut, you didn't wish to worry her as you cried out, "i'll be back soon... just please... do not worry about me! i'll come home soon..."

the last sight you had of your mother was of her falling to her knees with tears streaming down her face.

{ ... }

tarus city was what they called this place-

and you felt as though you were living in a dream, surrounded by glittering gemstones and polished gold. your eyes seemed to water with each new sight that came to you.

even with all of this beauty, you felt a little numb and homesick-

but a promise was a promise.

your devil held up his end of the deal by saving your mother-

and it was your turn to repay him.

you were broken out of your thoughts and given little time to take in the new sights as you were lead even deeper into the city. while the knights dropped you off in a golden palace, you were surrounded by women who helped with preparing you for their king. your body was stripped of your tattered clothing before being dunked into a luxurious tub filled with water warmed by what appeared to be heated stones. the sweet scent of rose petals fills your senses, putting you in a daze as the other maids worked on washing your hair.

once your body was cleaned, the women placed a thin sheen of rose oil against your skin, making sure that you were glistening before wrapping a sensual dress made entirely of silk around you. the finishing touches were added when they painted your lips in a light pink hue before taking you out of the palace.

and you were given little choice but to follow.

settled in a line, you follow the maidens as they walked across tarus city, keeping their heads down with every intention of bringing you to their king. your eyes take in the townspeople and felt a sense of discomfort fill you at how they were looking at you-

like you were someone that was meant to be worshipped.

your reveries were cut short when the women stopped walking, not daring to enter the gaping cave as they parted, settling your form dead in center as they made a path for you. with your heart racing with fear and anticipation, you step forward into the cave with your head held high.

the deeper you walked into the cave, the more you realized that the man wasn't a demon at all, but a dragon after all. when you were younger, your mother would read fairytales to you pertaining to dragons and how they liked to hoard and collect treasure.

and surrounding you was just that- an infinite amount of treasure.

you had never seen such riches before in your life. from rainbow gemstones and rare diamonds of every size to varying gold coins, it was no wonder that your mother had received such a high 'dowry.'

your eyes continue to scan all across the cave only to stop when you saw a familiar sight settled before you.

the devil's drake's back was facing you, and you watch as his serpent-like tail sways back and forth almost lazily. he lay on what appeared to be a smooth marble tablet, his wings nowhere in sight as he was dressed in his dark armor (was it even armor after all? or were they just a part of his body?)

"your footsteps are noisy, and you breathe heavily." the drake manages to reach out to your trembling form with his tail, wrapping the armored appendage around you as he brings your form down against the marble tablet. you land on your back with a gasp, heart beating wildly out of your chest when the devastating man smirks down at you. you were left gazing up at him through your lashes, watching as he closes his eyes before breathing in your scent, "ah, but it seems as though the lingering scent of death no longer haunts you."

he brings up a heavily armored and clawed hand up to your face, gently caressing at your skin with the back of it. even as your heart began to race within the confines of your chest-

you felt no fear-

only a sense of duty for fulfilling your promise to him all while ignoring the strange ache and tingling sensation felt between your legs.

"there's no need to be frightened, treasure." he leans closer to you, placing his lips against your temple. "sylus... you may call me sylus, for only you can call me by my name."

you shiver in response to his voice, feeling it reverberate throughout your body as sylus keeps his head hidden within the curve of your neck. "mmm, they did a good job, making you appear so utterly delectable for me..."

you gasp when you felt the tip of his tail travel between your legs, with sylus purposely sliding the underside of his scorpion-like tail against your slick folds. the odd sensation makes you writhe beneath him against the marble slab, your gasps echoing throughout the cave as you felt a strange pressure build up from within your abdomen.

"hah...ah... this feels... weird b-but so good." your mind was going drunk and hazy from the pleasure as you looked down to see his tail lazily going up and down your pussy lips, collecting your honeyed arousal. sylus lets out a soft groan before removing his tail.

"you smell so fucking sweet..." you tremble when sylus meets your gaze momentarily before descending upon your form. the tip of his horns gently gracing at the silk fabric of your dress, making paper thin tears in them as it slowly fell away from your form. with you remaining utterly bare for the powerful drake, you tremble as he lets out a guttural groan of your name, settling himself between your legs while breathing in your pure feminine scent.

with your slick entrance so close to his lips, sylus wastes no time diving into you, pressing his lips against your entrance as the sheer amount of pleasure he gifts you reaches almost dizzying heights. your hands grasp at his soft strands of hair, yet when he introduces a finger inside of your heat, you opted to cling to his horns for support.

sylus knew of how soft and pliant your body was compared to him, and he was able to maintain a certain amount of gentleness when he allows his hands to trace at your pussy lips. your sweet taste was all that filled him, and when he gently pinches at your hardened, bundle of nerves, he knew he was on the right track when it came to making you fall apart for him.

your back arches against the marble slab, hands gripping at his horns when you called out his name before allowing the tightness felt in your abdomen begin to snap. something warm and hot rushes out of you, earning yet another guttural sound from sylus as his tongue laps up everything you had to offer.

in the midst of your pleasured haze, you watch as sylus stands back to his full height, his hand gripping at the leather the covers his lower body before ripping them away from him. while watching him, you felt your eyes go wide upon seeing such a magnificently terrifying sight.

you had never once been subjected to witnessing a man's arousal before, watching as his cock goes hard while ready to be mated-

let alone two hard cocks that appeared pulsating with an angry shade of red. clear fluids were seen escaping from the tip, but perhaps what was more interesting were the ridges seen decorating the underside of his cock. sylus catches your wide (and admittedly, scared) eyes and smiles down at you. gently framing at your face with his free hand, he uses his other hand to help with further stroking his two cocks. "erase such expressions of fear treasure, for these exist for the sole purpose of pleasuring you."

sylus purposely leans over your, stroking his cocks against your slick folds. with a shaky sigh of his name, you wrap your arms around his broad back, feeling the strange ache become even more intense the moment sylus continued to rub himself against you. "my bride... my precious bride... i'm going to mark you as mine for all of eternity."

with those final words (sounding very much like an oath), sylus thrusts both of his cocks into your slick heat, making you cry out to him as your body struggled to take him all in. not wishing to overwhelm you with the flurry of new sensations, he keeps only half of his cocks within you, sliding them in a rhythmic, back and forth motion inside of you, making you feel not just every inch of him-

but each individual ridge as well.

the pain of having your purity taken was there, but more so than that was the intense pleasure you felt upon feeling his cock taking over the entirety of your slick walls. with his eyebrows furrowed in intense concentration, sylus works on pumping his cocks in and out of your aching cunt, basking in the squelching sounds that seemed to echo across the cave each time he rammed his hips back into yours.

"ngh, s-sylus!" being a now former virgin, you had never experienced such intense pleasure before, with your release rushing out of you in what seemed like an intense wave. the red hot sensation courses through your veins as you spilled your love juices down each of sylus's shafts, earning a broken groan from him.

"f-fuck, i can't last even a second inside of you!" stilling his hips, your moans quickly morphed into broken sobs when he pumps your womb full of his thick cum, with your aching entrance unable to hold it in as his seed spills out of your core in soft spurts.

sylus ends up landing on top of you, his chest pressed achingly close to your breasts as his cocks continued to pump you full of his seed. the intensity of his own release makes him let out a string of curses as he kept his hands in a fisted position next to your head.

when the twitching finally stopped, you were able to catch your breath, feeling the droplets of sweat running down your brow. it takes a couple of minutes for the post, lovemaking clarity to kick in, with sylus letting out a dreamy sigh of your name. he was ready to pull out of you, yet you had stopped him with your legs now wrapped tightly around his waist.

"wait, don't leave me..." you admit to him with heat felt against your cheeks. sylus meets your gaze while giving you a cocky expression, "oh? is my treasure getting greedy now?"

sylus lets out a rich chuckle before tossing both of your legs over his broad shoulder, making you moan when you felt both of his cocks harden while remaining buried deep inside of you. he begins yet another rapid pace while telling you, "hah, fuck, i wanted to go slow and be romantic with you... i had thoughts of spoiling you as my mate by promising to protect you and your mother... but that'll have to wait. right now... i wish to witness your further descent into impurity as i make you dumb and needy on my cocks..."

needless to say, your now husband and mate had successfully accomplished such hedonistic goals.

end notes: man sylus being canonically a dragon makes me so h-rny for him,,,, i need him so bad someone send h e l p. this is unedited, but my goal is to make all you sylus girles just as needy as i am with this post 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[softshuji]

Track 1 feat Ran Haitani (part of the campfire stories collection)

Ran remembers it clear as day. The day he gave up the Girl he loved for his baby brother. It was hardly a surprise.

They were both young and free and spirited and you had come at just the right time, when they were both finding themselves, finding a foothold in the world, a steep climb on an even steeper cliff and you had come just then like cool breeze in summer.

Truth be told, he hadn't expected Rindou to like you as well. You weren't the type of girl he assumes he'd like. Or himself for that matter. You're opinionated, independent, the kind of Girl that spells trouble for the both of them and he warns Rindou, and himself, to be careful of you when he realizes the turn things are taking. How serious they're getting when you leave a toothbrush at their place and they let you hunker down because your parents are giving you trouble and you're scared of going back and he wonders often, why the two of them even cared at first.

But it was hard not to. And in the beginning, it hadn't bothered Ran that you'd spend so much time eating convenience store food with Rindou at night. The two of you hunkered down under blankets watching a rerun of some show you'd already seen but wanted Rindou too as well.

And you turn to Ran who walks in after cleaning the kitchen and offer a bite of sushi and scoot over to make a place for him and his chest feels a bit funny at it all. But he's watching Rindou more than the TV. That syrupy glaze, a smile that's hidden behind his palm holding his chin up and a thought occurs that he'd rather not dwell on too much.

You're Rindou's first real friend and there's nothing wrong with that. He likes that he's opening up to you, that there might be someone else who loves him when Ran knows he hasn't entirely succeeded as a brother and their parents are nowhere to be seen. He had tried, in some way, to get Rindou to pay less attention to this gang stuff. Focus on school perhaps, get a decent job and settle with a pretty girl like his brother deserves and he wonders often, whether some prayer has been answered when he finds the two of you poring over a textbook while Rin pushes a pen behind his ear and the plate of oreos is left abandoned on the table. Shouldn't he be happy?

He knows he should. But perhaps he can't avoid this feeling in his chest forever. When he hears your laughter in Rindou's bedroom and the door is slightly ajar to you laying on his bed as you scroll through your phone and showing Rin something over your shoulder. And his chest sinks at it all. Becuase Ran has always been a giver, has always wanted and needed and known sacrifice for Rindou's sake. Whether it be beatings, money, food and now you. It's just one more thing he can give that he'd like to, because Rindou is all he has and he could never ask for brother that's any more his own son in some way, someone he raised all by himself.

So he is proud, if a little upset by it all.

Rindou really likes you, he knows this. And you could be good for him, in the same way you would have been good to him too. So he doesn't mind , even if it aches, even if it burns when you reach over and brush his brother's hair back and Rin flinches and flickers with embarrassment.

It's just one more sacrifice to make.

reblogs and feedback appreciated!

[zigrethsnotebook]

A Northwest

Stan x Reader

words: 2,361

tags: sfw, fluff, reader is a Northwest

a/n: this way to the request for this story

You just arrived in Gravity Falls, a town your family has lived in for generations. However, you had promised yourself to never return. After a big fight with your little brother about a woman’s place in the family and him insisting that he should be the sole heir of the family estate and such, you had had enough. Told him that if he wants it, he could have it all.

Your parents hadn’t cared either. Well. your mother had but… your brother had to have learned his attitude towards women from someone. You and your father had never seen eye to eye on anything, especially when it came to such progressive topics like ‘Should women be allowed to vote’. God, you hated him. Even went to his funeral with a big smile on your face and the most colorful clothes you could find, pissing him off one last time.

But all of that was in the past now. All you cared about as you walked those familiar streets again was your niece - Pacifica. Preston had, unsurprisingly, run his wealth into the ground, leaving himself, his wife and daughter homeless. You on the other hand had made a great career for yourself and earned enough money to live a very comfortable life.

So, as soon as you heard about the whole incident from Priscilla (she calls you about once a month, only when her husband isn’t around to hear it), you decided to help. Not him. But his wife and mostly Pacifica. You had great hopes that maybe the next generation of your family wouldn’t turn out like the rest of them had and well, if you want something done, better do it yourself.

You had arrived a little earlier than expected and decided to stop by Lazy Susan’s Diner. Greasy’s Diner. When you entered and sat down at the counter it seemed like she didn’t recognize you. You didn’t blame her, you looked nothing like you did 34 years ago. After you had left you had decided to reinvent yourself completely, new clothing style, new hair color, although by now it was starting to grey a little.

You probably wouldn’t have recognized yourself either.

As you sipped on your coffee, contemplating whether or not to remind Susan of you, you felt a tap on your shoulder. When you turned to look it was a man in an old looking suit, wearing a fez and the cockiest smile you’d seen this year. You leaned back against the counter, amused.

“You’re new in town, aren’t ya?” You hummed, deciding to play along. “Yes, I suppose so.” He leaned against the counter as well, his eyes never leaving yours. “I knew it. Well, let me tell ya, a pretty woman like yourself should not be wandering about these woods on her own. There are a lot of dangerous creatures lurking just off the main road. But don’t you worry, I will gladly give you a tour of the town, showing you all the places to avoid. And also the places to stop by more often.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at you at the last sentence. You couldn’t help but laugh at his silly flirting. Behind him in a booth two children groaned in an exaggerated way. He looked back at them with a frown. “Hey! Let a man have a conversation.”

Ah, he must be their uncle? Or something? You just smiled at him. Cocky, flirty, broad shoulders and responsible enough to take care of kids. If you had known that a guy like this lived here you would have come back years ago.

“I would gladly take your offer, Mister…?” You trailed off, inviting him to introduce himself, which he did. “Pines. Stan Pines, at your service.” He grinned at you and you nodded as you gave him your first name as well and continued. “Mister Pines. Unfortunately, I have some urgent business I need to take care of first. Perhaps we can postpone this tour?”

The man looked a little deflated at first, but quickly brightened up again at your question. “How about tomorrow evening. We meet here again for dinner. And after that we’ll take a stroll through town?” “Sounds lovely.” Stan clapped his hands together and winked at you before he went back to the booth with the kids.

By that point you had finished your coffee and headed out to look for Pacifica and her parents. You didn’t see it but as you left Stan looked after you, very obviously staring at your ass and grinning. He’d love to get his hands on that.

When you found them you got the basics settled first. Get them some place to stay the night. Then you got them a new set of clothes, their current ones being torn and dirty. That’s how you spent the entire rest of the day, pulling your brother and his family out of the hole he had dug them into.

You made it a point to hold it over his head though, that you managed to get rich on your own while he couldn’t even keep the money he inherited. He was mad at you the entire time but he couldn’t refute your words, you were correct after all. All throughout this you noticed the way Pacifica looked up at you with bright eyes.

To Pacifica you very quickly became her role model. Confident and strong-willed and most importantly, not taking any shit from her dad. She clung to you, asking you countless questions and admiring you for every choice you had made, especially standing your ground and moving away from the family.

She had heard rumors about her dad’s sister, but until today she had never actually met you. Obviously, her dad didn’t want her to get any ideas from you. You, the black sheep of the family.

Seeing Preston crawl back to you now, after all those years, was incredibly satisfying to you. If you’d also get to help turn his own daughter away from his precious ‘family values’ then you’d proudly call you her aunt.

While you were out helping your family, the Pines had also gone back to the Shack, now relaxing in front of the TV. Mabel was texting on her phone with Candy and Grenda. Suddenly, she gasped after having read the newest text from Candy. “There’s more of them?!”

Dipper and Stan looked at her in confusion. “Who?” Dipper asked, but Mabel ignored him, just stared at her phone as another text appeared. “She was at Greasy’s Diner? Today? We were there today! How did we not see her!?” Dipper was starting to get frustrated with Mabel ignoring him, so he placed his hand over her screen, making her look up at him.

“Who are you talking about?” “Pacifica’s aunt! Candy says that she heard her mom talk to her friend on the phone who told her that another Northwest came to Gravity Falls today. Apparently, she wants to help them now that they’re homeless.” Stan bellowed a laugh.

“Serves that slimy Northwest right! Blood runs thicker than water after all. Even he needs to learn that.” Ford, who was also enjoying movie night with his brother and the kids, looked at Stan. He had forgotten how much of a family man Stan really was.

Dipper frowned. “Okay, sure. But if she can help them out then that means she is also rich. Who’s to say she is any better than Pacifica’s parents?” Stan scoffed. “She probably isn’t. But who cares. Hopefully, they’ll just leave Gravity Falls together now and we won’t have to bother with them anymore.”

Dipper turned back to look at the TV. “Yeah, hopefully…” He mumbled, although he didn’t quite mean it. He hated to admit it, but he had started to like Pacifica a little.

The topic was dropped after that and movie night continued.

The next day came and went rather quickly for you. There was a lot for you to do, to get your brother on the right track again. So much so that in that haze you almost forgot about your date with Stan. But you remembered and soon excused yourself, leaving them in the motel room you had rented them.

You went back to Greasy’s and met up with Stan, who immediately greeted you with a kiss on the cheek and his hand on the small of your back as he led you inside. He truly was a man of action and you appreciated that about him. There was a certain honesty in his behaviour which came as a refreshing change to the cold mask your brother and his wife had learned to live with.

“So, what was this business of yours that was more important than the best date you’ll ever have?” The way he was presenting himself in his seat, one arm over the backrest and the other resting on the table, while he looked at you through half-lidded eyes and a smirk on his lips. You loved this. It was silly in a way, but it was so different from the way you were raised that it left you feeling giddy.

“Oh, just some old family squabble. Nothing important.” A lie, of course, at least to some degree, but you knew that your family was hated in this town. And for good reason. So you didn’t want to taint his view of you before he got to know you properly.

“Hm, yeah, I get that. My brother and I had a rough time these last few decades as well.” His smirk had faded and you missed it already. Even so, you asked: “I’m so sorry. Where is your brother now? Did you manage to work it out with him?” Stan chuckled lightly at you and his smirk returned. “Well, considering that I live in his house… Yes, I’d say so.”

You chuckled as well. Now this was something you and your brother would never be able to achieve.

The two of you had a very nice dinner together and talked about everything and nothing. It was a fantastic date. When you left the Diner you turned to look at Stan again. He was already grinning at you and held his arm out for you to take. “Now, onto the tour?” You laughed and gladly looped your arm through his. You had already forgotten about this part of the date.

You strolled through the woods. Stan told you all kinds of fantastical stories about monsters and little supernatural critters that are said to live in these woods. You didn’t believe a word of it, of course, but it was fun to play along.

After about twenty minutes you had reached a wooden house in the middle of the forest. It looked like it was supposed to attract tourists, with a big sign on the top that read ‘Mystery Shack’.

“And this,” Stan made a grand gesture, as if revealing the house to you, “is my humble home. Well, my brother’s, but you get it.” You chuckled lightly and pulled his arm closer to yours again. “Yeah, I’m starting to.”

Stan led you inside, telling you about his family. You were starting to get really excited to meet them. Stan had talked so highly of them, you were sure to like them.

Something you didn’t know was that throughout your entire date, Pacifica had followed you. She was curious who you’d agree to go on a date with, especially so soon after arriving in the town. She was shocked, to say the least, when she saw you and Stan Pines entering the Diner. She was even more shocked when he led you to his home.

After you had entered, she stayed outside for a while, pacing back and forth and considering whether or not to confront you about it. Eventually, she decided to do just that.

Inside the Shack Stan had already introduced you to the kids, Mabel and Dipper, and also his twin brother Ford. It was very sweet, especially when you quickly realized that the kids were very similar to their great uncles. Or grunkles, as they put it. They were such a charming family and you envied them for it a little.

After a little bit of sitting together with them you heard a knock at the door. “Any of you expecting someone?” Stan asked around the room and everyone shook their heads. Dipper stood up and went to open the door. In front of him stood Pacifica.

“What do you want, Pacifica?” At the name your ears perked up. What was she doing here? You told her to stay with her parents. Then again, you wouldn’t have stayed with them either.

“Your great uncle went on a date with my aunt. I want to know why.” Everyone turned to face you, even Dipper craned his neck around the doorway to look at you with his mouth hanging open. Mabel was the first to speak up. She stood on her chair and pointed at you. “You are a Northwest?! …How? You are so… different!”

You chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, well, they don’t call me the black sheep of the family for nothing.” At that Stan’s expression immediately softened again. Being the odd one out in your family was something he could relate to.

By now Dipper and Pacifica had walked into the room as well. Pacifica had her arms crossed in front of her and looked at you like she was trying to figure you out. “I get that. But why… him?” She gestured towards Stan who frowned at her. You just shrugged your shoulders.

“He’s exactly my type. Plus! He seems to have the same kind of… affinity for making a quick buck like I do.” You smirked at Stan and he returned with a smirk of his own. In a way, you two were quite similar.

Pacifica groaned in frustration and turned to Dipper. “No way. I get a cool new aunt who immediately dates your stinky grunkle? This is unfair.” “Well, I’m about to be your stinky uncle as well!” Stan laughed loudly and soon enough everyone at the table joined in, even Pacifica.

[kedicatt-cotl]

Narinder having a mental breakdown for a whole minute

Song: The Truth from 36 Questions

(It has nothing to do with the Baabaa kids AU, the AU Narinder is in a way better place by that plot point)

[joelsgoldrush]

“epiphany” | 21k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: Superheroes and mutants weren’t enough. No—the universe had to throw in soulmates who share scars. Fantastic, right? Except yours had vanished, only to mysteriously reappear with the arrival of a new face: the “Worst” Logan Howlett, fresh from another earth.

OR What happens when a hopeless romantic crosses paths with the ultimate soulmate skeptic?

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ strangers to lovers. drinking. cursing. slow burn. angst. pining. mentions of alcohol. fluff. reflecting on the art of writing/poems/books. dual POV. takes place after the events of “deadpool & wolverine”. TW: multiple descriptions of scars. worst/variant!logan. implied age gap (reader’s in her late 20s). they’re both touch starved. wade’s everyone’s friend. miscommunication/misunderstandings. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering, grinding. some slight hair pulling. unprotected p in v, creampie. sex with feelings.

A/N: HOPELESS ROMANTICS RISE! here we go again with another long ass fic. this is a soulmates AU in which you get your soulmate’s scars. if you feel triggered by this topic, please refrain from reading. i had a lot of fun writing this even though it took me a while to get it done. thanks to @lubdubology for being my beta and allowing me to share my work with you. and also thanks to @brushworth for giving me the chance to write this. having said this, enjoy the story! i’d love to know your thoughts on it <3

Love giveth and love taketh away.

To this day, it’s still hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that love is what humans both strive and die for.

If it weren’t for love, you wouldn’t be here. No one would, actually. Human beings are the result of billions of people who loved each other just enough—or at least long enough to bring life into the world.

But isn’t it in the name of love that people act in bad faith? Why would something so pure be used in vain?

You don’t get it, but as the years go by, you slowly come to terms with the idea that perhaps you never will. Not because there isn’t a reason, but because you’re in love with the idea of love.

How could you not be? It’s on the streets, on the bus, at work. Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is. Love is dressed up in an expensive silk robe, a ribbon tied neatly on top of it. You reach closer, trying to unravel it, though it's pointless. The moment love sees you—truly sees your longing for it—it flees, and you struggle to keep up.

Love runs faster than anyone, hiding within the bushes, counting the seconds until its next appearance.

It had always been a relentless race, your only worry being to catch it before time ran out. But with each day that passed, the finish line only stretched further and further away. Now, they all blur together, to the point where you live and breathe on autopilot. 

In a Jane Austen novel, you’d be considered a lone woman. That character who’s nice, and kind, and loved by some, but not in the way she yearns for. Every time she’s mentioned, you go “Oh, the poor girl,” until the slow realization dawns.

In reality, she’s you, and it’s you who you feel sorry for, not a fictional character. You.

All in all, love giveth. And love also taketh away. 

Love maketh you miserable.

Soulmates—a nine-letter word that holds so much meaning.

It’s one of those words that you learn early in your life, one you hear at home or on the TV. Your parents never fail to mention it if given the chance. The first time you’re introduced to the topic is at school when you're older, a bit more self-conscious, and no longer preoccupied with picking your nose.

“Everybody has a soulmate. And no,” your teacher had added after a pause, already anticipating the inevitable questions from any curious 10-year-old, “there isn’t such a thing as not having one. We all do. You just have to search for them.”

Back then, that had been your favorite game—always keeping an eye open, scanning the crowd more than once in new places. You knew for sure that more than one person probably thought you’d strained your neck from all the times you glanced over your shoulder.

It must be pretty obvious now, the fact that you’re—well, alone. Saying ‘without a companion’ sounds quite outdated. They can’t see through you, but something in the way you walk or speak must give it away. 

Or is it the fact that you always ask for a table for one?

“Are you expecting someone else?” A waitress approaches you, her tone gentle as she makes sure you’re on your own. A small notebook dangles from her slender fingers, and your eyes catch the name stitched onto her apron: Emily.

The response you give her is on the verge of sounding automatic, robotic even, like one of those prerecorded messages busy people leave on their phones. “No. Just me.”

She nods, and you feel the sympathy in her gaze. You’ve mastered the art of recognizing that look—the one hovering between concern and pity.

Of course, people rarely voice it, but they’ll never know their eyes sometimes say more than they think.

As she jots down your order, you’re met with the ring on her left hand. Very pretty, very shiny. Very expensive as well. Your attention must linger on it a little too long, because she catches you staring, making you feel exposed.

Emily—you decide to call her that way from now on, because once you know her name, it feels odd to address her as the waitress—offers you a shy smile.

“I’m getting married next month,” she blurts out, happiness radiating from her pores. Her eyes glint like two lanterns in a starless night. She also looks younger than you, and the abrupt silence forces you to pinch your wrist, a reminder of the fact that this is a conversation, and not just something you're overhearing.

“Congratulations,” you manage to reply, returning the smile. If she saw how your expression faltered the second she walked away, you wonder if she’d still think you were so amiable.

Sometimes, your façade slips—you can’t help it. That’s what the ‘hopeless’ in ‘hopeless romantic’ stands for.

Some minutes later, she comes back with your coffee, and you catch another glimpse of the ring as it twinkles in front of you. Envy doesn’t suit you, so you shift your focus.

Taking out your laptop, you scroll through the latest headlines. This is your attempt at acting more like an adult and less like a girl in her mid-twenties who has no clue what she’s doing.

One article stands out from the rest: Hollywood Actress Divorces Loving Husband of 25 Years to Pursue Presumed Soulmate. “I saw his scars and knew he was the one.”

Interesting. You can’t help but feel sorry for the displaced husband, though.

“Good for you,” you mutter under your breath, clicking the link to read more. There’s a picture of the actress and her new boyfriend that makes you stop dead in your tracks: they’re smiling at each other, their faces close, noses almost touching, while they show off their matching scars—the unmistakable sign that they’re, in fact, soulmates.

Soulmates, superheroes, mutants. It all sounds like a whole lot, doesn’t it? Overwhelming, to say the least. One thing’s for sure—you’ll never get bored in this world.

But, hey! Don’t forget that there are multiple universes out there. Maybe in one of them, you’re not this pathetic.

Why are you being so hard on yourself? That’s not even the point. Shaking your head, you keep glancing at their scars—they’re identical, perfect mirrors of one another. The kind of scars that only two destined souls share.

Their happiness is evident, tangible. You can feel it by just eyeing the image. It’s a bitter sensation that metamorphoses into a warmth, which heavily spreads through your chest, filling up every empty space it finds. 

To say you understand that feeling would be a downright lie. And you may be many things, but a pathological liar is not one of them.

As if on cue, you duck your head, rolling up the sleeves of your jacket. You do the same with your shirt, foolishly hoping to find something other than smooth, unmarked skin.

No scars. No marks. No sign of a soulmate, of a lover. In the world you inhabit—this universe full of the most inexplicable things—you’re alone. 

Without a second thought, you pack your things, shoving them rapidly into your bag. The cafe feels too little and too large all at once, the walls closing on you.

The rest of the customers are looking at you. Fuck, they already noticed it—you can’t escape it.

Have they? Do you think they see you like you see yourself? The lone woman who writes poems for an addressee who will never read them?

In silence, you hand Emily the money for your coffee. You fear that if you open your mouth, a cry will come out, and that’s the last thing you need today. She gives you that look again—pity laced with sorrow, the one you despise. It burns.

At that moment, a man walks in, passing right by you. You see his face, his green eyes, and the way his lips curl into a grin as he greets Emily.

The scar on her forehead, which you'd missed before, mirrors the one on his.

They are soulmates. 

It’s on the streets, on the bus, at work. Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is.

She wishes you a nice morning as you leave the cafe. Little does she know you’ll spend the rest of the day locked in your apartment, mourning someone you never even met.

Until the day you lost them, you wore your scars with pride.

They were scattered across your stomach, back, chest, and even your legs and arms. Some were shallow, others deep. It never occurred to you—the thought that they belonged in the shadows, hidden.

Everyone has them, you thought as you stood in front of the mirror, running your fingers along their jagged paths. I just seem to have more than most people.

Over the years, you might have changed your hairstyle or the way you dressed, but your scars never did—they’d always been there, and they were yours.

Partly yours, of course, since you knew they belonged to your soulmate as well.

The older you grew, the more you realized having a good memory was both a gift and a curse. You still remembered that moment so vividly—when you found out that somebody out there was meant for you and only you.

A point of no return, that’s what it’d been. From that day on, not a single one went by without you imagining the first encounter with your Prince Charming. 

In the meantime, you dated. A few boyfriends came and went during and after high school, mostly as practice for the real thing, you’d told yourself.

God, you were determined to know everything. To be the best girlfriend ever, so that when you finally met him, he’d be over the moon.

At the age of seventeen, it sounded like a brilliant plan.

You never knew how, but your life became that meantime. All your friends began to find their soulmates: in the supermarket, while traveling, at the goddamn doctor’s office.

Everybody was fulfilling the purpose you’d been taught humans were made for—everyone but you.

The scars multiplied, yet he was nowhere to be seen, remaining out of reach. Your soulmate’s whereabouts were a mystery. What the hell does he do in his free time? was something you used to often ponder. Is he suffering? Does he need help?

“Be patient, give it some time. The less you seek, the more you’ll find,” your mother would say, trying to sound encouraging. Although she was trying to do her best, that phrase alone had the power to make you go nuts.

Be patient? Waiting was all you’d been doing. What was so wrong with you that he seemed to be hiding from you? You didn’t want to wait any longer, no—you wanted to find him. If it meant traveling to Italy like your cousin had to meet her husband, then so fucking be it.

Many nights, sleep eluded you. Lying wide awake, staring at the ceiling, you’d imagine what life with him would be like. What he would look like. You were certain that no matter his appearance, you’d think he was beautiful.

Wasn’t that the whole point of soulmates—that the bond you two shared transcended physical attraction?

Nevertheless, you secretly wished he’d have brown hair. He didn’t need to know, but you had a weakness for brunettes.

On the night of your twenty-second birthday, you were getting ready for the big event when every trace of your scars disappeared.

The bathroom mirror was fogged from the shower’s stream, and as you wiped it clean with the palm of your hand, the image you saw reflected on the glass made your stomach do a flip.

There were no scars. No marks. Nothing. At first, you thought your eyes were playing tricks on you—it couldn’t be. Scars didn’t just vanish. It was impossible.

But as you lowered your gaze, tracing your limbs again and again, the truth hit you. The marks you knew by heart, the ones that reminded you, He’s out there, somewhere, were gone.

You felt it deep in your chest, too. Every sound seemed louder and clearer: the blood rushing through your veins, each shaky breath you took. Where are they? Your fingers dug into your flesh, intending to ground yourself.

Is he… dead? It was the only reasonable explanation, the rule you’d known all along. You’d read it countless times, memorizing the principles about scars.

The scream that tore from your throat brought your mother running upstairs, and she entered the bathroom with a horrified expression on her face.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” she asked, but your mind was already far away. Your whole body shuddered in her arms, a sob slipping past your lips as you crumbled to the floor, desperately hoping it was all a nightmare. “It must be a mistake, honey. I’m sure he’s okay.”

But he’s not, you wanted to tell her. The words, however, never formed—only a broken whimper escaped your lips. Isn’t that what we were taught? Our scars belong to our soulmates; they bind us to them in a way that simple words can’t explain.

It goes deeper than the skin. It delves into our bodies, our minds, reaching into the very essence of who we are. What was once his is also mine, but they’re gone.

He’s gone. He must be, because otherwise, how would you explain this void?

When one’s soulmate passes away, that person will notice the disappearance of their scars. The physical marks that once symbolized their connection fade, leaving no trace. This absence is accompanied by a distinct, unsettling sensation—an awareness of loss that goes beyond the physical, signaling the end of the bond.

A part of you died with him that day.

The first time you exchanged words with Wade Wilson, you thought he was a total dick.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t know him—not when he was so infamous for that mouth of his. Deadpool: the self-proclaimed superhero with a vocabulary that was 90% profanity, who made cracking jokes while fighting the bad guys look easy.

Super funny? Sure. But not exactly your cup of tea when all you wanted was to crawl into bed and forget the world existed.

He was apparently long retired from superheroing. No one had seen that red, sex-toy-looking suit in ages, which was why you were only mildly surprised as you spotted him hauling boxes into your building on a Tuesday afternoon.

It was late, and you weren’t in the mood for small talk. He’d been there barely a week, yet somehow, he’d already managed to fuck things up. 

You let out a deep sigh, rubbing the crease between your brows. “Look, Wally—”

“It’s pronounced Wade,” he corrected you, trying to edge his face further into the gap between the door and its frame, though you didn’t let your guard down. “You’re pretty rude, you know that?”

“I’ve been up for twenty-four hours, and I need to sleep,” you groaned, trying to push him away with one hand. Technically, he wasn’t even asking for something that complicated—he wanted to use your microwave to heat his dinner, since his had decided to stop working out of the blue.

The thing was that you’d had the kind of week that felt like a one-way trip to hell, an important detail he wasn’t aware of. “Go ask someone else. I can’t do charity tonight.”

“You’re the only one who answered,” he said, pressing his palms together in a pleading gesture, his lips curling into a heartbreaking pout. “Please, my lovely neighbor, whose name I don’t know. You wouldn’t want me to starve to death, would you?

“I thought you couldn’t die.” You raised an eyebrow, half-interested.

Wade’s arms dropped to his sides, his eyes drifting downward. “And I thought kindness wasn’t extinct, but here we are.” He spun on his heel, acting defeated and dragging his feet like a scolded puppy. “Can’t believe this is what the world’s come to. I’m sure the Bible says something about treating others how you’d want to be treated.”

Why. Just… why? Some cosmic, divine force from beyond might have been testing you that night.

“Wait,” you croaked just as he was about to step into his apartment—which was literally three meters from yours. His face lit up, expecting you to continue, and you moved aside slightly, signaling him in. “Five minutes and you’re out, okay? I really need to get some rest.”

The rest was history. Wade was just standing there, mesmerized by your microwave as if he’d never seen one before.

You could only hear the faint buzzing sound of the gadget, punctuated by the rhythmic drumming of his fingers on the counter. He was humming a tune while shaking his head to the beat.

You tried to focus, replaying the guided meditation you sometimes followed to sleep in your mind.

Allow yourself to feel the stillness of this moment. Notice your breath slowing as your body begins to calm. Be the observer of your breath, flowing in and out naturally, as your lungs—

Yeah, it wasn’t working.

“Please, stop it,” you eventually told Wade, whose gaze shifted from the microwave to you, brows furrowed.

“And why’s that?”

“They say it’s bad for your eyes,” you explained, recalling a half-forgotten news report you’d heard on the TV. Whether it was a myth or not, you’d never know. “I believe it’s because of the radiation exposure.”

Leaning back on the counter, he crossed his arms over his chest. “At this point, I think I’m safe. You, on the other hand… maybe not so much,” he nearly whispered that last part, and your desire to strangle him grew stronger.

Save me, mindfulness, you thought to yourself.

He jerked his thumb toward the pile of papers and books you had on your kitchen table. “So, you’re a writer?” 

“Editor, in reality,” you snapped, your eyelids twitching as you watched him leaf through your stuff. “Wade, don’t touch my things.”

“Sorry, can’t help myself. I’m very curious.” Flashing you a quick grin, he opened your notebook, squinting his eyes as he went through the pages. “But you write too, huh? I’m discovering plenty of material here.”

The bastard. “Give. It. Back,” you snarled, lunging at him and trying to snatch the notebook from his hands, but he was faster, raising it out of reach. “I hope your food explodes in that microwave, asshole.”

“Oh, right. I forgot about it,” he snorted, tossing the notebook onto the couch and retrieving his dinner instead. You stared at him in disbelief, opening your mouth to scold him, but nothing came out. Then, there he was, standing in front of you with his plate and a fork.

Wait. Was that your fork?

“It’s hot, I’ll give you that.” He blew on his food to cool it down, and as he glanced up, he was met with your murderous glare. “Whoa. Want some? You could’ve just asked me. No need to get so angry.”

Calling it a desire to kill him would’ve been an understatement. And the worst part? He couldn’t die. “You’ve got what you needed. Now, can you leave?”

“How long’s it been since you talked to another human being?”

You blinked, feeling the sudden urge to look around, half expecting a hidden camera. “Why do you always answer with another question?”

“All I’m saying is I’ve been meaning to talk to you for days now, but you’re practically living the hermit life,” he said between bites of chicken, excusing himself briefly to chew. “That robe you’re wearing? It’s had the same stain on it since I moved in. Also, your doormat’s buried under a mountain of newspapers, so either you really love trees, or you’ve been avoiding any sort of social interaction.”

If he had been wrong, you would’ve felt much better. But he… wasn’t, and it sucked.

“I feel like I should be scared,” you mumbled after a long stretch of silence, your eyes going round.

Wade did no more than laugh at your troubled expression. “Scared of me? That’s cute. I’m a nice guy, sweet pea. Persistent, sure, but I’ve got a knack for getting under people’s skin,” he said, grinning through a mouthful of food—which, for the sake of your sanity, you chose to ignore.

After he had finished eating, he let the fork fall into the sink, the metal striking against the surface with a piercing echo, making you jump. He stretched his arms with a satisfied yawn, and he seemed determined to leave you alone. “Well, I’ve done my good deed for the day.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, following his movements as he ambled toward the door. “Are you telling me your microwave does work?”

“Oh, you’re a smart one, aren’t you?” Wade patted your head, ruffling your hair like you were a puppy who had just learned a new trick. “Good night, peanut.”

From that moment on, the two of you became inseparable. Your personalities clicked in a way you’d never experienced before with any other friend. Wade was loyal to a fault, and he treated you like the little sister he had never had. 

Most importantly, he didn’t pity you—he saw you for who you were, not just someone marked by a lost soulmate. You never told him how much that meant to you, but deep down, you were grateful.

Which brings you to the present day. You’ve been friends with him for over a year, and he’s taken every chance to introduce you to his “weird but lovable” (his words, not yours) group of friends.

“Check your social anxiety at the door, thank you,” he’d tell you every time he hosted a get-together and you were invited.

Somehow, you had managed to bond with them—especially Althea, his elderly roommate, who occasionally forgets who you are despite living next door.

“Remind me of your name again, sweetie? All this disco dust must be affecting my memory,” she’d ask, leaning in close so you’d practically have to shout it into her ear. Then she’d nod, smirking knowingly. “Ah, yes. I thought so. Just making sure.”

She’s quite the character. A real sweetheart if you leave aside the number of times she’s offered you more types of drugs than you knew existed.

Tonight, you’re throwing Wade a surprise birthday party. Among all the party tasks, you’ve handled the decorations and the cake. The room’s a riot of color, with balloons floating lazily from the ceiling and a cascade of streamers draping over the furniture.

Guests start arriving, greeting you warmly, a feeling you once thought impossible. They’re Wade’s friends, sure, but on some level, you like to think they’re your friends now too: Vanessa, Dopinder, Buck, Shatterstar, Colossus, Negasonic Teenage Warhead, and Yukio.

As you hear footsteps approaching the door, Wade’s voice filters through the hallway. Panicking, you whirl around to the group. “He’s here! Everyone shut up!” you whisper urgently, turning off the lights and pressing your back flat against the wall next to the door.

Seconds later, the sound of keys jingling fills the air as both Wade and Peter step into the apartment.

You flip the lights back on just as Dopinder pops his much-anticipated party popper. “Surprise!” you all scream in unison, and Wade’s face splits into a grin, unsure of whom to hug first.

“You guys are lucky I’m not armed,” he quips, slinging an arm around Dopinder’s shoulders. “Six years ago, you’d all be dead!”

And you giggle, because… well, what else are you supposed to do?

As you expected, the night unfolds smoothly. You’re having fun, engaging in conversations despite yesterday’s emotional meltdown at the cafe. It’ll be okay—it always is. The food is amazing, the company even better. You remind yourself that romantic love isn’t the only kind that matters—that’s what friends are for, after all, to teach you that lesson.

The low hum of chatter fills the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clinking of glasses, creating a lively symphony that wraps around you like a warm blanket. Yukio calls your name, waving her head in front of your eyes, trying to snap you out of your thoughts. “Everything okay?” she wonders, concern flickering in her voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, tightening your grip on your beer bottle. “Just thinking, that’s all.”

You all gather around the cake when Wade’s about to blow the candles. You know he’s preparing himself for a speech. “Another year of spinning around the moon, huh?”

“Sun, you dumbass,” Al corrects him, and you have to bite your lip to keep your laughter to yourself.

“Okay, flat-earther,” Wade shoots back, giving her a playful side-eye. “Anyway, where was I? Oh, right—I can’t thank you all enough for being here. These past few years have been... well, rough on me, to say the least,” he says, glancing down at the cake with a small, crooked smile. “But I’m happy now. We’ve got each other’s back, like a team!”

“Like The Avengers, you mean?” Dopinder pipes up, eyes sparkling with excitement. There’s a moment of silence in which you swear you’d be able to hear a hairpin drop.

It’s still a sensitive topic.

“Next time, give me a trigger warning before you mention them,” Wade mutters in a hushed tone, and Dopinder shrinks sheepishly. “I guess what I wanted to tell you was…” he trails off, his palm covering the place where his heart is, “that I'm glad you’re all here. Being surrounded by the people I love most is the best birthday gift ever.”

His words stir something inside you. Vanessa gently nudges his arm, smiling up at him. “Why don’t you make your wish?”

Wade dramatically drops to his knees in front of the cake, eyes fluttering shut before blowing out the candles, whistles and cheers erupting all around.

Just then, you hear the unmistakable sound of the doorbell ringing through the air. You exchange a curious glance with Wade, raising your eyebrows. “That’s weird. Want me to get it?”

“Nah, I got it,” he says, excusing himself to answer the door. He slips outside, shutting it behind him, and everything returns to normal. For a while, you assume he’s chatting with someone who dropped by to say hi—but that doesn’t really make sense.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that he’s been out there so long?” Vanessa inquires, her worry starting to creep in.

“I’ll go check on him,” you tell her, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before heading to the door.

But when you open it, there’s no Wade in sight. Just… his toupee—or “hair system” as he insists on calling it, lying on the floor.

Kneeling down, you gingerly pick it up, a strange sensation settling in your chest.

Where the hell did he go?

After his existence went downhill, Logan turned to prayer.

Completely out of character, right? He thought so too. The number of times he'd stepped foot inside a church could be counted on one hand, so why would a man like him resort to religion?

In the past, he had been told he was part of God’s plan, but somewhere along the way, he felt like he had become God’s mistake.

After living a life plagued with loss and constantly in hiding, he wasn’t shocked that his self-worth was in the gutter.

Things only spiraled after letting everyone down, especially after that particular day when things took a turn for the worse. He had prayed, asking God to make him forget.

When that didn’t work, he just drank harder and smoked more. But not even drowning in alcohol and clouds of nicotine could put an end to his struggles—he was condemned to suffer.

In spite of everyone’s wishes, he’s still going strong, stuck with no defined purpose. It’s almost impossible not to fall into a routine that seeks to numb him, to put him under anesthesia—waking up after passing out who-knows-where, finding the nearest bar, sinking into whiskey and the haze of ashtrays.

Then he does it all over again, a never-ending cycle. His self-destructive habits don’t lead him to oblivion; instead, they intensify every sensation, making each memory and emotion painfully vivid. 

Day after day, he convinces himself he’s got it under control. Logan may be tough as fuck, and he may heal faster than anyone else, but his pride is in pieces.

No amount of strength or supernatural abilities can stop the decay he feels inside, the slow rot creeping deeper within him the longer he remains trapped in this life.

He slams the empty glass onto the counter with a heavy thud, tapping two fingers against it. “Again,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

The bartender looks at him like he's the reincarnation of all things vile. “I told you—you’re not welcome here. You’re not welcome anywhere. Now get the fuck out of my bar.”

Oh, yes. Music to his ears. If he had a nickel for every time he heard that, he’d be rich. “Just give me one more drink and then I’ll leave.”

“That’s not how it works,” the bartender replies, and Logan knows he’s screwed. Another public establishment he’s been banned from—fucking perfect.

Will there ever be a day where he’s not treated like garbage?

“It does now,” an unknown voice joins the conversation, and Logan glances to his side, arching a brow. The masked man doesn’t let his stare falter. “Leave the bottle.”

“Do I know you, bub?” 

“You don’t, but I know you.”

This serves as evidence of how pliant he’s become. Years ago, he would’ve already wiped the floor with this guy. They didn’t call him Logan “short fuse” Howlett for nothing. But now? He just can’t bring himself to do it.

“Everybody does. I’m the—”

Here it comes, the reminder of his personal calvary.

“—Wolverine.” Once he finishes the sentence, his words taste bitter. Perhaps it’s the venom on his tongue, or maybe it’s just the alcohol from yesterday kicking him again. Either way, both hit hard.

“Yes, you are,” the stranger says, continuing to stare at him, as if Logan’s worth the effort. “And I’m going to need you to come with me. Right now.”

Logan holds his breath. The worst part of it all is that his day’s just getting started. He has no clue who this guy is or why he’s claiming to need him.

But he’s got the wrong man—Logan doesn’t know him, and he sure as hell doesn’t have anything good to offer.

Or so he believed five minutes ago. Life seems to have its own way of surprising him.

Knowing he’ll regret it later, he closes his fingers around the whiskey bottle, chugging the liquor until darkness takes over his senses.

Nighty-night, Logan.

I'm aware that you're not mine, and nor will you ever be.

I’ve spent sleepless nights trying to figure out

where this need to call you mine stems from. 

You're like an antique, a rare piece displayed

in a crowded bazaar, drawing curious glances.

I’m aware that you're not mine

because I haven't bought you yet;

I hold no claim over you,

nor can I control who touches you and who doesn't.

I want you to be mine,

but no amount of money would buy your soul.

You're beyond reach—someone has already marked you.

I’m aware that you’re not mine, 

and I guess maybe that’s how life is meant to be.

“Bullshit,” you mutter softly into the quiet of your apartment, where the only sound is the echo of your own voice.

Chewing the end of your pen, your eyes narrow as they skim over the poem you’d written over a month ago.

Since then, you’ve been working on refining the details, but something is missing—that you can feel. The flow is awkward, the choice of words stiff. It’s like a puzzle that doesn’t quite fit together. 

You take a long sip from your coffee, tucking both knees up onto the chair you're sitting in. 7:30 a.m., and already, your mind is spinning, diving headfirst into a poem when countless other things are demanding your attention—like, a hundred things, really.

Right now, cracking this piece feels more important than any other task on your list.

Who do you write to? That part is easy—your soulmate. That deceased, probably buried, long-gone soulmate of yours.

It shouldn’t be funny, but there’s an absurdity to it.

Without warning, a memory slips into your thoughts—one girl you used to work with once advising you to change the subject of your writing.

“You should go for some self-love crap. People usually eat that up,” she said, not even bothering to look up from her nails, red polish smeared over the edges.

Her fingers were a mess, coated in that fiery hue, but she didn’t seem to care as she tapped your notebook with her lacquered index finger. “This is repetitive. Keep writing about the same thing, and people will get bored of you.”

“I haven’t published them yet,” you answered, your voice coming out more high-pitched than usual, betraying the doubt you intended to suppress. Her blue eyes flicked up, studying your face as you slid the now red-stained notebook back into your bag, away from her careless, messy fingers. “I thought… I thought we were supposed to write about what we feel passionate about.”

That managed to catch her attention. Passionate. She let out a laugh—sharp and cold, like something straight out of a villain’s script in a children’s movie. It grated against your ears.

“Sweetie, you call that passionate?” She waved her hand dismissively, standing up from the table.

Taller, older, and more secure—just the fact that she gave you her time should’ve made you feel grateful. “Not to be a bitch, but what you showed me is kind of depressing.” 

Kind of depressing. From that moment on, you kind of hated her. Small victories, though—the agency fired her a year later. You like to think you kind of won that battle.

Still, she might’ve been right about one thing: your writing does fall into patterns. It’s predictable, to say the least—the rhythm, the themes. Even the metaphors you include can be found in several of your poems.

Are you… lazy? Has someone revealed the way to break out of it? If there is, you figure you're fine without it.

You don’t want to write the kind of articles she’d churn out about the latest trends or the five best positions to get pregnant faster. Nor do you want to pick apart celebrities' lives for a flashy headline.

What you do want is to write about love. Real love. Even if you are not the most qualified person to do it. Even if nobody wants to read the words from someone who has never experienced it in the flesh.

And you’ll get there—how? You’re still figuring that out.

As long as you live and breathe, love will remain in your thoughts, haunting you—especially with your muse being the fleeting dream of a soulmate you never got to meet in the first place.

But it’s time to start your day—the real one. The one where you have to step outside the safety of your four walls and deal with reality.

The to-do list assembles in your mind: groceries, that book you’ve been meaning to pick up, emails you need to answer.

You let your mind take over, guiding you through the motions without a second thought. As you head back to your room, you get rid of the comfortable robe you love so much.

Next, your shirt comes off, tossed carelessly onto the bed. Just as you're about to step out of your pajama pants, you notice them.

The scars.

They’re not the same, not the faded lines etched into your skin that you could see every night behind your eyelids. New marks glow against your flesh, each one a map of something you don’t yet understand, standing out like new brushstrokes on an old canvas.

You can’t help but freeze, your breath faltering for a moment, and you nearly trip over yourself. Kicking your pants to the side, you stare down at your hips, thighs, the hollow of your ribcage. 

Tentatively, you press your fingers into the lines, expecting them to fade, to disappear under your touch like some peculiar illusion.

But they don’t. They remain. You can feel the raised edges, the subtle roughness, the heat beneath your touch.

These scars are different from the ones you had before. Under no circumstances are they the faint memories you once carried. No—these are fresh and vibrant. Marks that shouldn’t exist, the stories they’ve witnessed unfamiliar to you.

Within seconds, you’re sobbing, and you blink through the wetness clouding your vision, wiping your tears of disbelief (and maybe hope?) away with the back of your hand.

Nothing changes. They’re still there.

You've never heard of scars returning like this. It goes against everything in the manual on your shelf. Scars vanish when a soulmate dies, but they don’t come back. Not like this. And they certainly don’t change. 

Barely able to stand without stumbling, you scramble to your phone. The first person you call is your mom, your fingers shaking as you press the buttons. She screams into the phone, and all you can do is laugh through the tears.

What doesn’t sit right with her is the change in the scars. She mentions something about reaching out to a specialist, insisting that your case is rare—one in a million.

Almost immediately, you think of Wade, knowing he’d want to hear this. God, he’d be ecstatic. Before you even realize it, you’re standing in front of his door, finger hovering over the bell.

That’s when the realization hits you: he’s been gone for nearly three days, off doing whatever it is he does.

Ringing the bell, a smile tugs at your lips. News like these are meant to be shared.

“Althea, it’s me!” you call out, hoping she’ll hear you. You press your forehead against the door, fidgeting with your fingers. “I have something to tell you.”

Logan has had better days. Days that didn’t involve escaping The Void, fighting a hundred Wades, or saving an earth that wasn’t even his to begin with.

You know, normal days—of being sneered at while drinking to forget and, fuck, how many hours has he been sober? It feels like an eternity.

When the adrenaline wears off and the heroism fades, he’s back to being just Logan again. If he had a watch, he’d probably tap the glass and fake impatience to Wade, pretending he’s got somewhere else to be.

He should leave. That’s his first impulse: to escape before it’s too late, but a question arises in his mind: does he truly want to?

Wade watches as Logan rises to his feet, planning to walk away. Pretty stupid, Logan thinks, considering he knows no one else in this universe—apart from the scarred man he’s become friends with against his will.

“Logan!” Wade yells his name, his voice light but firm enough to halt him in his tracks. Logan turns to face him, greeted by Wade’s familiar, infuriating smile.

It's a silent invitation to a new beginning.

Nothing’s holding him back, so why not accept it? The odds of being the target of hateful glares are lower here, and that’s reason enough for Logan to give a small tilt of his head and return to the bench where Wade remains seated.

“We’re gonna be roommates!” the latter exclaims, a wide grin stretching across his face as they head toward the building. “Can you imagine all the fun we’ll have?”

Logan presses his lips into a thin line. “Looking forward to it,” he murmurs, a small glimmer of sarcasm slipping into his tone, although Wade takes his words at face value.

“Me too, roomie. Me too.”

“Let’s not use that word.”

Wade holds the door open for Logan with an exaggerated bow. “Why not? It’s the truth. We can even share my bed if that’s—”

The sound of Logan’s claws succeeds in silencing him. Wade recoils and covers his crotch, no doubt remembering past close calls.

“You know what? You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch. No problem.”

Was moving in with Wade the worst idea he’s had in a while? Absolutely. The reason? Althea, the elderly woman he lives with, isn’t answering the door, and he doesn’t have his keys.

Logan covers his eyes with a hand, silently questioning all of his life choices. And it’s only been ten minutes.

“This doesn’t happen often,” Wade reassures him, rubbing his neck.

“Hard to believe,” Logan mutters, some unknown muscle in his jaw beginning to ache from how hard he’s gritting his teeth. “You just leave the house without your fucking keys?”

Wade huffs, jutting out a hip in mock offense. “Those TVA guys didn’t exactly send a ‘We’re here to ruin your day’ memo. I was ambushed, okay?” he retorts, keeping a finger glued to the doorbell, its shrill ring gnawing at Logan’s already thin patience. “Al, I swear to God, I’m replacing your blood pressure pills with laxatives if you don’t wake up!”

“How old is she?” Logan asks, searching for anything to keep him from snapping the other man’s neck. Peaceful thoughts.

“Compared to you, she’s basically a newborn,” Wade replies, rocking back and forth on his heels. He’s having the time of his life—meanwhile, Logan’s self-control is reaching its limit.

His claws twitch in his knuckles. He’s had enough, and with a jerk of his left hand, they gleam as they slide out, ready to break the damn door. 

But then Wade jumps in front of him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy there, buddy! I’m not letting you turn my door into a strainer.”

“Move,” Logan barks, not an ounce of friendliness in his tone. His stare is flat, unfazed.

“I’d rather not. You can’t just go around breaking people’s doors, man. Not cool,” Wade blurts quickly, placing both hands on Logan’s chest, pushing him away. “How about I ask my neighbor, huh? I gave her a spare set of keys for situations like these.”

“I thought you said this didn’t happen often.”

“Well, life’s full of disappointments.”

Before Logan can answer back, Wade rushes to the door next to his, slamming his fist on it like a madman, his finger hammering the doorbell simultaneously.

The devil’s orchestra—a symphony straight from hell.

Logan grabs Wade’s wrist before he can knock again, hissing: “Have some manners, will you?” 

Wade tries to shake his arm free from Logan’s tight grip. “She’s in there. I know it,” he replies in the same tone, but now he uses his other hand to ring the doorbell with greater feeling.

After a pause, he stamps his foot on the floor, throwing his head back. “Come on! Is this how you treat me after being away? Shame on you, Missy!”

This neighbor must be very patient, Logan thinks, to keep up with a guy like Wade without often seeing red.

As the door finally swings open, his grip on Wade loosens, and his hand falls limply to his side.

“What… the fuck?”

The sound of your voice—soft, slightly groggy from sleep—pulls his attention away from the door incident. His gaze is fixed entirely on you—you look as if you’ve just rolled out of bed, which makes sense since it’s still early.

Back in The Void, Wade had rambled on about all his friends, you included. Logan recalls how he had described you: a book editor who lived on her own and loved reading. You were younger—but then again, who wasn’t younger than him?

The picture Wade had shown him, with you standing in the background, hadn’t done you justice. He had found you attractive then, but seeing you in person?

You’re… far more than he expected.

More beautiful, for starters.

Fuck. Why is he even thinking about that? He must’ve been staring at you for quite a while—you glance at him like a startled lamb, clearly feeling self-conscious under his unwavering stare.

“May I know,” you start, tightening your robe, “why you were banging on my door like that? I thought I was getting robbed for a minute.” You direct your question at Wade, avoiding Logan’s presence, which makes something tighten in his chest.

He finds the way you stifle a yawn endearing, though.

Okay, that’s enough, he tells his mind. Let it go.

Wade steps in first, dropping his mask on the nearest surface. “Hello, my dear. Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just a few scratches. No, I wasn’t partying—I was kidnapped. Thanks for asking.”

You draw in a long breath, rubbing your eyes to wake up once and for all, and then you proceed to gesture for Logan to enter. Even now, you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. “Do you—would you like to come in?”

Not only are you pretty, but also polite. He nods, muttering a gruff: “Yeah, thank you.”

As he walks past you, your shoulders brush briefly, sending an unexpected jolt through him. A tingling sensation on the verge of being electrifying that has him knitting his brows.

His gaze finds yours, searching your expression to see if you felt it too. But you look away, closing the door to go after Wade.

Great. You must think he’s a weirdo. 

“I’m always up for company, but why so early?” you ask your friend, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. “And are you going to tell me what happened the other day? You left without saying anything.”

Wade hops onto a stool at the kitchen counter, swinging his legs like a child. “You know Al. When it comes to sleeping, she’s like a much older version of Sleeping Beauty,” he replies with a grin, snatching the mug you were about to use for your morning coffee. “Thanks, you’re such a doll.”

“That was—mine,” you sigh, hitting him in the thigh, and Wade winces with a fake whine. “I don’t think I’ve missed you that much. Go back to being missing in action,” you say, grabbing another mug and filling it before raising it toward Logan. “Coffee?”

Logan hesitates. You’re treating him like you’ve known him for years, not minutes. “I’m… good.”

“You sure? I made it fresh, just before you guys arrived.”

“Don’t worry, I’m—”

“I love the chemistry here,” Wade interrupts your conversation, drawing your attention back to him, “but you still got the keys I gave you, right?”

You roll your eyes, blowing on your steamy coffee before answering. “I do, but I want answers first. And I want them now.”

Twenty minutes and a rambling, half-coherent story later, your drink has gone cold, and Logan’s patience is wearing thin… again.

Will he survive sleeping under the same roof as Wade? Stay tuned for more.

“And then I told Paradox ‘He has risen, babygirl’—”

“I think you’re being too specific,” Logan interjects, noting how you’re staring into space with wide eyes. “She seems confused.”

“I am,” you admit, rubbing your temples. He doesn’t blame you: Wade’s a terrible storyteller. You offer him a weak smile as you turn to him. “So… you’re from another universe.”

“Last time I checked.” His back collapses against the couch, groaning softly. He sits beside you, and the way your eyes sweep over him, taking in his disheveled and sweaty appearance, doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“And how is it? I mean, do you have—”

“I’m public enemy number one.”

Too harsh, idiot.

“Oh. That’s… good to know.”

Wade says your name, and you look to your right, lifting your brows. “Do you mind if I grab the keys myself? I need a shower. I’ve been marinating in sweat and blood for way too long.”

You grimace, pointing toward your room. “Top drawer of my nightstand.”

With that, he embarks on a quest to find them, leaving Logan alone with you. Silence stretches between you two.

He doesn’t know what to say, or if he should even say anything. Casual conversation isn’t his forte.

“You and Wade…?”

Letting out a giggle, you lean back on the couch. “God, no. We’re just friends,” you explain, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. For a fleeting moment, your eyes bore into his, and then you return to burning holes in the floor. “I’m single. Haven’t found my soulmate yet.”

It’s his turn to chuckle now—a dark, humorless sound rumbling in his chest. You chew on a cuticle, Logan’s gesture igniting a sense of curiosity in you.

“What?” you ask him, puzzled.

“Do you really believe in that? Soulmates who share scars?” If he were to think carefully, he’d watch his tone. It’s too late, anyway—you straighten your posture, your face contorting with each passing second. “I can tell you do.”

“And I can tell you don’t.”

“Why would I? Those are lies,” he retorts, the corners of his mouth turning upward.

His opinion is anything but objective, totally biased, given that every time he dove into love’s arms, he was met with the crude reality: not everyone’s meant to be loved, himself included.

The look you give him is enough to wipe the smirk off his face. 

“Soulmates exist, Logan. We all have one.” There’s a certainty in your tone, marked by the subtle way in which you say his name, that he finds alluring. He shouldn’t, especially when you seem angry above all. 

“And where is yours, then?”

He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your expression becomes inscrutable. You could be either disappointed, frustrated, or even exasperated—sad, perhaps?

Logan feels as though a weight has settled on his shoulders just from staring into your eyes.

You strike back with silence. Plain, pure, dreadful silence that has him wondering if he’s breathing properly.

At long last, Wade comes back from his expedition, keys dangling from his fingers. “It was quite the treasure hunt, you know? You’ve got a lot of garbage in there.” He sticks his face between Logan’s and yours when you don't answer him. “Guys, is there something wrong? Are you doing a staring contest? If so, can I join?”

“I need to start getting ready for work,” you announce, standing up from the couch. Logan mimics you, and you open the door, your fingers curling around the knob. “You should get going. And Wade,” you pause, acknowledging only him, “I need to talk to you later. In private.”

Without Logan. That’s what you wanted to say but didn’t.

“Sure, my queen. I live to serve,” Wade says in rejoinder, and he kisses your forehead briefly, which forces Logan to avert his gaze the whole time his lips are on you, feeling uncomfortable watching. “Take care, alright?” 

You give Wade a small nod, waiting until he’s outside your apartment to glance at Logan.

“Goodbye,” you croak, and he knows he should say something, that he��

The door almost closes on his nose.

Had he been an asshole? He was merely expressing his thoughts. The idea of soulmates didn’t sit well with him.

Once settled into Wade’s apartment, Logan steps into the shower, water rinsing off his body. Yet he finds himself unable to stop thinking about you.

The disappointment in your eyes when he asked about your soulmate.

The coldness in your tone at the end, so different from the warmth you initially offered.

He feels drawn to you, as if some sort of invisible string is tying the two of you. Were it possible, he would use his own claws to cut it, but he can’t discern where it begins or ends. Instead, he prefers to blame his touch-starved state for this reaction. 

He’s already hating this earth. So much for a man whose skin refuses to scar.

And where is yours, then?

His words shouldn’t have stung the way they did. All the charm—the gruff exterior, the mysterious personality—had vanished.

The guy from another universe, with the claws, the healing abilities, and the raspy voice, is a moron.

A ridiculously good-looking moron? Yes, but a moron nonetheless.

There is something about him you can’t quite place. A chill creeps down your spine as you replay the instant your eyes first locked. Your body had reacted in ways it never had before, drawn to him like metal to a magnet.

Why? You’d seen handsome men before, even been with some. Yet, you’ve never felt this—this gravitational pull, this inexplicable pull to invade someone’s personal space.

How would your soulmate feel if he saw you like this, lusting after another man?

You shudder at the thought. This isn’t like you. You pride yourself on loyalty—perhaps a little too much. You don’t read two books at the same time, and you’ve been buying the same brand of shampoo for the past five years.

So why now? Why him? It feels like a betrayal of your own mind, your conscience turned against you.

Let things stay as they are—it’s safer that way. You don’t want to know the reason behind this forceful need.

After all, being his grumpy and ill-tempered self, he’ll stay holed up in Wade’s apartment, avoiding any interaction with the real world. And you? You’ll forget about him. Easy-peasy.

That afternoon, as you take a nap on the couch, he invades your dreams. It’s not even a wet dream, but he’s there, staking a claim on a part of you he has no right to.

You wake up with your hand clutching your chest, a frustrated punch landing on the nearest cushion.

The next day, you drop by Wade’s place for a quick visit, your eyes darting around the room every few seconds, half-expecting Logan to appear out of nowhere.

“I told you, he’s sleeping. That guy’s got a fucked up sleep schedule,” Wade says, urging you to take a seat beside him at the table. “Why don’t you wanna see him?”

Because he’s messing with your sanity. Your brain cells are practically disintegrating at the mere thought of breathing the same air as him.

“I just—I need to tell you something.”

“Are you pregnant?”

“What? Wade, no! You’ve been gone for three days—pregnancies take months.”

“I’d make an amazing uncle, though.” He grabs your hand between his, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Babies are so adorable at that—”

“My scars are back,” you cut him off, putting an end to his nonsense. Pulling the neck of your sweater to the side, you show him the thin lines etched into your collarbone. “But they are different this time.”

“Different? You mean they changed?” His disbelief is clear as he reaches for your arm, frowning while he inspects more of your scars. Wade’s jaw slackens, color draining out of his face. “Fuck. Fuck!”

“Fuck?”

“Yeah, fuck!” His strong arms envelop you, and you lean into the embrace, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “Is this good news? Are we happy? Does this mean I have a shot at becoming an uncle after all?”

You laugh a little at his eagerness, rubbing gentle circles into his back. “I am happy. I just—I don’t know what these changes mean yet.”

Althea steps out of the bathroom, her cane tapping the floor in rhythmic beats. “I already told you what they mean.”

Wade pulls away from you, glaring at her. “You meddler! Haven’t we talked about not eavesdropping? Hasn’t life taught you anything after all these decades?”

“Upside of being blind: I’ve never seen this motherfucker in Crocs,” she says, pointing her cane at you, though you know her aim is Wade. “Downside of being blind: I hear everything in this apartment. And you, kid, have a new soulmate.”

“I know what we talked about the other day, but... it doesn’t make sense, Al. You only get one soulmate,” you protest, feeling the tension grow as you pace around the table. “Why can’t it just be simple? My friends are getting engaged, years are flying by, and I’m still out here chasing this… this idiot who no one can even find!”

That’s when Logan appears, emerging from his room, holding several empty beer cans. He rolls his eyes and walks straight into the kitchen. “Great. Who else is coming tonight?”

Wade smirks, clapping a hand on Logan’s shoulder as he looks at you. “Sweetie, Logan’s going through his second puberty at the ripe old age of two hundred. The pediatrician said it’s just hormones, nothing to worry about. Excuse his shitty attitude.”

With a low groan, Logan shrugs off Wade’s hand, scowling. If anything, the younger man’s grin just grows bigger. “Wolvie, I gotta admit that whole ‘Don’t fall in love with me or I’ll break your heart’ personality shouldn’t turn me on, but here we are.”

You decide to take that as your cue to leave. You grab your bag, muttering a quick goodbye to Althea as you head for the door.

But Logan calls after you. “Can we talk?”

You freeze, your back to him. “How much did you hear?” you ask, not daring—not being able—to meet his gaze.

“All of it,” he admits after a beat, and you curse under your breath. “But it doesn’t—Hey!” He follows you into the hallway. “I’m talking to you!”

“No, you’re not.” You fumble for your keys, fingers shaking as you try to unlock your door. “Leave me alone.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles behind you, his voice softer now. “Come on. Don’t be so harsh.”

“I can’t believe you,” you whisper, finally finding the right key and jiggling it into the lock. The door swings open, and you step into the safety of your apartment. But when you try to close it, Logan’s foot wedges into the gap, blocking it. “Get out.”

He doesn’t budge. “No.”

“Logan, I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, me neither. But I owe you an apology.”

You wonder if he realizes the hold he has on you. No matter how hard you try to mask it, the unbearable pounding of your heart betrays you.

Scanning his features, you trace the rugged contours of his face with your eyes, lingering on the lines on his forehead—the aftermath of what it looks like a life lived through bitterness and pain.

“Can I come in?” he insists, his tone on the verge of sounding pleading.

You hesitate. The sensible part of you screams to send him away. Thinking that avoiding him would be as easy as stealing candy from a baby is a long-forgotten idea now: you’d been naïve to even consider it possible.

He’s going to find a way to sneak into your space, your home—and you’ll let him in. You’ll grant him a chance to cross a boundary that should’ve been already drawn.

It feels like you’re fifteen again, infatuated with the guy you know you shouldn’t get close to. Paul from high school wasn’t your soulmate back then—Logan isn’t now.

The smart thing would be to take a step back, accept his apology, and ask him to leave. That’s how you preserve what little remains of your sanity and protect your heart, which is already hanging by a thread.

But God, it feels so good to be near him.

You step aside. He walks in. Something tells you this won’t be the last time.

“I’m waiting.” You stay near the counter, pressing your back against it, and keeping your distance. Logan sits awkwardly on the edge of your couch, unsure of where to begin.

“Look, about what I said yesterday…I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” He sounds sincere, earnest. “I didn’t know you believed in soulmates.”

“It’s not a matter of believing in them or not, Logan. My soulmate is out there—yours too.”

Your words coax a grin from him, and he shakes his head. “I guess we’ll never see eye to eye on that.” In a fluid motion, he crosses the room, and you find his unexpected proximity a bit exasperating. “Do you forgive me?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Give me a break, darlin’. I’m trying my best.”

“Well, you were an asshole.”

“Yes.”

“The first time we exchanged words.”

“Also yes.”

“And now you’re apologizing.”

“Positive. I just did.”

It’s not that you’re easy—it’s Logan’s persuasive allure that gets to you.

“What else can I do to win your forgiveness?” he wonders aloud, his syrupy voice making you tighten your grip on the counter.

An idea sparks in your mind. You move toward the pile of books next to the TV, eyeing the titles, until one catches your attention: your copy of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, one of the first novels you’d read when you were younger.

It’s adorned with colorful post-its, and the pages, sort of rough to the touch, are marked with handwritten notes in the margins.

“How do you feel about reading?”

“Not my strongest suit,” he answers, arching a brow as he takes in your enthusiasm. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“You want me to believe you’re sorry for what you said? Then read this,” you say, wiggling the book in front of him, “and we can start over.”

“What is it about? Let me guess: love and soulmates. Did I get it right?” he asks, playfulness lacing his tone. His breath hitches as you press the book against his chest, silently urging him to take it. His pinky grazes your hand, feeling your skin and sending a jolt through you.

Logan watches you with half-lidded eyes, and it takes every ounce of willpower to tear yourself away from him and his maddening touch.

You clear your throat. “Open it to page one hundred fifty-three.”

“Do you—you remember specific pages?”

“And read what’s underlined in black,” you murmur, eyes fluttering closed for an instant. “Please.”

Logan must mutter something along the lines of ‘You’ve got to be kidding me’ before searching for it. It’s only then that he begins to recite the passage:

He is not to them what he is to me. He is not of their kind. I believe he is of mine; – I am sure he is – I feel akin to him – I understand the language of his countenance and movements; though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him. Did I say, a few days since, that I had nothing to do with him but to receive my salary at his hands? Did I forbid myself to think of him in any other light than a paymaster? Blasphemy against nature! Every good, true, vigorous feeling I have gathers impulsively round him. I know I must conceal my sentiments: I must smother hope; I must remember that he cannot care much for me. For when I say that I am of his kind, I do not mean that I have his force to influence, and his spell to attract; I mean only that I have certain tastes and feelings in common with him. I must, then, repeat continually that we are for ever sundered: – and yet, while I breathe and think, I must love him.

You’ve chosen a damn good page.

Logan looks up from the book, his mouth slightly parted, as if he’s about to speak. You interject before he can find the words.

“You’ve got a week to read it.”

“How long is it again?”

“Four hundred pages.”

He surrenders, sighing in defeat. “You’re killing me here, y’know?”

“Write an opinion essay if possible.”

Right there, Logan offers you a mock laugh. “Haha. That’s so funny.”

“It is for me,” you talk back, unable to hide your smile from him, and soon he mirrors your expression. 

As Logan steps toward the door, he hesitates and glances back. “We’re all good then?”

Leaning against the doorframe, you raise your chin defiantly. “We’ll be when you finish the book.”

What he says next has your stomach turning into knots. “You’re trouble.” His tone shifts—no longer teasing, but grounded in truth. Gone are the jokes; he seems to mean every word.

For the rest of the night, one line from the book doesn’t stop echoing in your mind—the line about soulmates: I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him. 

You’re trouble for him, and he’s trouble for you. You hope he knows it too.

He thought that not seeing you for a week would snuff out his feelings. That by next Wednesday, every thought tied to your name, every urge to uncover the last of your secrets, would be extinguished.

That's what time usually did: it diminished dangerous desires that couldn't afford to be voiced, and buried those longings that had no place in the light of day.

Logan now figures he’s been underestimating the spell you cast on him with just a few glances and the intensity of your eyes. He’s seen you animated, angry—both defiant and vulnerable.

Each of your gestures feels like a memory he can’t quite place.

The way you laugh, the right corner of your mouth lifting just slightly higher than the left—he swears it isn’t the first time he's seen a smile brighter than the sun.

Still, he convinces himself it’s all in his head. He must be the one losing his mind, the years finally catching up to him. It’s the only reasonable explanation for the thoughts that consume his every waking moment.

He’s wrong—you’re right. He’s seeing things where there are none—you’re simply too kind.

Too kind. Too young. Too damn clever for your own good, with your books and that sharp mind of yours. He wonders how you see yourself.

Do you like the reflection in the mirror? Are you content with the way your life has turned out?

Do you, too, lie awake at night, the bed stretching endlessly, aching for a touch that never comes?

The walls in this place are paper-thin. When darkness falls, and the moon rises, the big, scary Wolverine can’t close his eyes.

Instead, he listens.

Some nights, you play the same movie on repeat—a romantic comedy that lasts exactly one hundred and twenty minutes. For two hours straight, he’s privy to your laughter, your commentary at the characters on the screen.

He hears you cry when the lead couple drifts apart after a terrible argument, but they always find their way back to each other, and you watch every second until the credits roll.

None of the other films you pick ever ends in heartbreak, he realizes. They all have happy endings—the kind you wish for yourself.

One way or another, there must be a way to get you out of his system. He knows, without a doubt, that you wouldn’t want him. He’s not your soulmate, and it’s clear that finding that person has become the center of your existence.

Logan can’t allow himself to be the moron who derails your purpose.

Sure, he’s done bad things, but he likes to believe that at least a part of him—some small fraction—hasn’t been lost yet. That there’s a piece of him that can be saved, which is the reason why he stayed here: to be a better man than the one he was in his universe.

But it’s hard. Harder still because it’s you who disrupts his quest for redemption. How is he supposed to go on with his life when every thought circles back to you? The idea of holding you, kissing you—sleeping beside you haunts him.

And so the images blur, new dreams twisting with his usual nightmares.

Which one is worse, he can no longer tell.

One afternoon, while deliberately steering clear of Jane Eyre, he reluctantly turns to Wade in search of answers. “Tell me more about her.”

Wade, lounging on the couch, stops scrolling on his phone and drops it onto his chest, drawing his eyebrows together.

“Her? Who do you mean?” His tone oozes with feigned innocence, barely containing a shit-eating grin when Logan grits out your name, his tone rough, almost pained. “Oh, Romeo. You’ve got it bad.”

Intending to maintain some semblance of control, Logan strides into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and the last bottle of whiskey. As he tips it, only a few drops fall into the glass.

“No, I don’t,” he says, extending his arm and holding the bottle up. “We’re out of whiskey.”

“You keep saying we, but you’re the only alcoholic in this apartment.” Wade kicks off his shoes, propping his feet on the coffee table. “So, why the sudden interest in the lady? She getting through that tough exterior of yours? I’ll give her points for that.”

“And you wonder why I don’t talk to you.”

“I saw the book,” the younger man replies, lacing his fingers behind his head, watching as Logan rummages through the fridge with increasing frustration. “You never told me you were into classics. If I’d known, I’d have gotten you a copy of Pride and Prejudice.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“I’m sorry, weren’t you the one who came to me, looking for the essential oil of truth?”

The silence that follows is thick and uncomfortable, mood-killing.

“See what I just did there?” he adds, and Logan feels forced to shake his head from side to side, appearing conflicted. Wade lets out a low huff. “That was Virginia Woolf. Add her to your reading list.”

“Has anyone ever told you how obnoxious you are?”

“More times than I can count. I’m just not everyone’s cup of coffee.”

“Tea, Wade. Not everyone’s cup of tea.”

“Whatever.” Wade simpers, as though Logan’s correction is the punchline to a joke only he gets. He sets his palms flat on the table, looming closer with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, what would you like to know about my dear friend?”

Logan hesitates, the weight of his question heavy on his tongue. “What’s the deal with her scars?”

The air shifts. Wade’s playful expression fades and he tilts his head, his tone turning serious. “I don’t think it’s my story to tell,” he begins, gaze dropping to the floor. “But she lost them years ago. She was living a normal life, and one day, they were just—gone, like they were never there. It broke her. We didn’t know each other back then, but you’ve seen her.”

Wade’s eyes flick back up, while Logan stands there, tongue-tied. “You even know the kind of books she reads—nothing can shake that belief in real love, in soulmates being destined. Imagine how she must’ve felt when she found out her presumed soulmate was dead… without a single warning.”

From what he had heard, that sense of loss was impossible to put into words. Those who’d gone through it described the experience as if half of you—your body, your soul, your very essence—was being ripped away.

The pain was excruciating, and the only way to survive it was by means of tolerating it—no remedy, just the endurance to outlast the agony.

It wasn’t just a momentary hurt. It was the kind of torment that lingered, making you question who you were and what little remained of you.

You and Logan had more in common than he’s willing to admit.

“She’s a good person,” he mutters absent-mindedly, his thumb grazing the cover of the book. He had carried it everywhere for a week now, without even cracking it open.

“Oh, you dirty pig…” Wade whispers, his eyes lighting up as if a lightbulb suddenly went off in his mind. “Now I get it. You wanna know her. Like, really know her!”

“I don’t—”

“Your sex life is none of my business. I’m all up for you putting your mutant dick to work, otherwise it’s just wasted potential. But it’s my friend we’re talking about.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, and he snaps. “Drop the speech, alright? I’m not trying to get into her pants. I just want to be nice. That’s all.”

“Nice, huh? What’s your version of nice? Starting a two-person book club?” Wade stifles a laugh, pressing a finger to Logan’s chest. “Look, if you want to sleep with her, and the feeling’s mutual, then go for it. Just tell me this—how long’s it been since you visited Pussy Village? Was it before or after the Big Bang?”

Things are never truly serious with Wade Wilson. “I’m not answering that.”

Wade raises both hands in surrender, still chuckling. “Fine, fine. But if you’re really interested, just be clear about it. She doesn’t need a half-assed situationship.”

By now, it’s like a mantra he repeats again and again, hoping that eventually both Wade and he will start to believe it. “I don’t want to have sex with her.”

As he heads back to his (now Wade’s old) room, Wade adds, “I’m sure she’d appreciate it if you underlined some quotes you like.”

Much to his dismay, that’s exactly what Logan does.

His handwriting isn’t the most legible, but he tries his best, leaving notes in the margins of some pages, such as:

I hate this John kid.

Her aunt is a cunt.

This is too cheesy.

Mr. Rochester’s married?

St. John—what a prick.

He finishes the book at 7 a.m. A long-ass book—just for you. While getting ready for work, Wade calls him an unemployed fucker, and Logan knows nothing better than to shoot back a similar insult, stretching his arms as the first rays of sunlight creep through the curtains.

Wade was right about something, even if Logan himself doesn’t wish to admit it: he’s behaving like a teenager—staying up until dawn, practically chained to the bed without daring to go out. Falling for a girl he didn’t know a week ago.

Learning to control his impulses has been a hard task, especially with his temperament. Over the years, Logan thought he’d mastered the art of self-restraint, long past the point where his body moved without his mind’s permission.

As his feet carry him down the hall toward your apartment, he recognizes how wrong he is.

This is a terrible idea, he thinks. And yet, his fist knocks on the wood. Three times.

Fuck.

The door opens just a crack. You peek out, your face barely visible, eyes puffy from sleep. “Logan?”

His name isn’t a fancy one. It’s pretty normal, pretty standard. There must be a thousand other guys named like him—yet it’s only when you say it, your voice turning it into something rare and unique, that it feels different, like it’s only his.

The tone you use with him isn’t the one he’s used to: Logan, you’re a disappointment. Logan, how dare you turn your back on your friends? Logan, they’re all dead. Logan, it’s your fault.

Yours is inviting, and warm, and new. He likes new.

“I just finished it,” he answers, holding up the book, mindful not to grip it too tight as not to crumple the pages.

You scratch the back of your head, blinking at him. “You just finished it… at 7 a.m.?

Yeah, it sounds stupid now that you say it out loud, but it’s true. Hoping his reaction is enough to explain what he can’t put into words, he gives you a slow nod.

This time, you don’t wait for him to say more. “Come in?”

Yes, this is what he’s been looking forward all week. This moment, this interaction.

This Come in. This Yes, thank you. You’re so kind.

His quiet acceptance of your invitation, the unpronounced thought of I don’t deserve this, but I can’t back off now, because how could I ever say no to you?

He follows you into the kitchen as you move to make tea. “Want some?” you ask, but he declines the offer. If he were to drink anything right now, it would be something much stronger, not tea, despite the early hour. “You’re here to talk about the book?”

“Well, you told me I could come back after reading it.”

“I did,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips as you hide it behind your mug. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be so punctual.”

You don’t need to know that he’s been counting down the seconds, marking each minute in his mind since the last time he saw you. That’s a detail he’ll keep to himself. “It’s a good story.”

“Tell me about it.” You smile even wider, and he takes a moment to absorb the details of your face—the crinkles by your eyes, the way your nose scrunches when you’re amused. “I lent you my most precious book. Fell in love with it years ago.”

“I can see why you liked it,” he explains, flipping through the pages to find the one he marked. “All the romance and the yearning—”

“Hey, it’s also good for other reasons,” you try to defend yourself, but any other argument dies on your lips when he finds the passage he was looking for and begins to read aloud.

“I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you, especially when you are near me, as now,” he recites, his voice lower, almost reverent, as he looks up from the page to meet your gaze. “It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your frame.”

You seem startled by the sharp sound of him closing the book. He’s sort of breathless, and from where he stands, he can tell you are too. “That’s one of my favorite passages.”

“I can’t blame you for believing in soulmates if this is the kind of thing you read growing up,” he teases, handing the book back to you.

Though a part of him almost wishes he didn’t have to—so that it would still be a reason, a tether, pulling him back to you again and again.

Grinning, you take it, your eyes remaining trained on his. “I happen to notice it hasn’t changed your perspective on soulmates.”

“It’ll take more than a book.”

“This is, in my opinion, one of the best love stories ever written. How else will I convince you?”

“Why do you feel like you need to convince me?” He takes a step forward—you take a step back. “Why can’t it be the other way around? I might end up being the one who convinces you.”

“You could never,” you respond, clasping your hands behind your back. “It would be like convincing me the sky is green instead of blue.”

Logan retreats slightly. “Don’t you get tired?”

“Of what?”

“Of waiting. Of always being on the lookout.”

You don’t react badly to his question. You’re not even shaken, not fazed in the slightest. “When I meet him, I’ll know all the waiting was worth it.”

“And in the meantime?” Logan inquires, pressing himself further into your intimacy, edging closer as if testing the boundaries you’re willing to cross. His words are a subtle request for more, for answers. “What will you do until you find him?”

If you ever do, he thinks, but it’s left unsaid, lingering in his thoughts. He’s getting better at not saying the things that sit heavy in his chest without thinking.

“I think you misunderstand, Logan.” You study him through your lashes, and he feels he’s become the keeper of your most sacred secrets. “It’s not about waiting as if my life’s on pause. I’ve been with other people. But in the end, I want to choose him.”

That casual admission strikes him like a wave of cold water. A flicker of jealousy burns at the edges of his composure, though he tries to smother it.

I’ve been with other people, you say, your tone so nonchalant, and yet the mental images that flood his mind are anything but comfortable.

He imagines someone else standing in your kitchen. Perhaps in five minutes, there will be another man knocking on your door, here to discuss a book, and it won’t be him.

Perhaps this isn’t rare for you—all this come in, grab something to drink, let’s talk when you’re done reading.

Perhaps he’s not as important as you make him feel.

His thoughts spiral until your voice pulls him back from the brink.

“Don’t you understand how beautiful it is?” There’s a dazzling glint in your expression, a light in your eyes that makes him ache. “Outside of these four walls, there’s a person who’s waiting to meet me, in the same way I expect to meet him. I can’t grant myself the choice not to believe in something like this.”

Far from easing the martyr in his mind, this conversation only deepens his internal struggle. The questions overlap each other: what happens if you never find him? Would you ever consider settling for somebody else?

He rephrases that last one—would you ever consider being with him?

“He’s a lucky guy,” Logan murmurs, and just like that, he feels himself slipping deeper, falling into the rabbit hole with you guiding him through the madness.

For a moment, he can pretend—pretend that matching scars and bonds that defy the rules of his principles make sense.

Maybe, just for you, he’ll allow himself to believe it.

Your eyes soften with sudden emotion, glistening with the beginnings of tears. He feels the primal urge to reach out, to cup your cheek, to be there when the first tear falls. “You think so?” you ask, your voice fragile.

I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you, especially when you are near me, as now.

“Of course I do,” he replies, his tone quiet but laden with a strange, undeniable truth.

It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your frame.

Whatever this is between you—it’s messed up. He’s messed up. And you… you’re just as tangled in this chaos for indulging it, for looking at him in that way that calls out to him.

The more time he spends with you, the less he feels like himself. Everything he’s done lately—reading that damn book, standing in your apartment at 7 a.m.—none of it feels like something he’d do.

It’s not just his mind you’re messing with: it’s his very sense of self.

Logan’s smart mouth had always been a liability, getting him into trouble either by saying too much or by choosing the wrong words. Bad things had always followed in the wake of his tongue.

Somehow, when it comes to you, he’s the most careful he’s ever been. He doesn’t want to upset you, nor does he want to be the cause of any sorrow that might affect your heart.

When the two of you stand at the threshold once more, just as you have other times before, you softly say: “I feel like I’m experiencing a déjà vu.”

He laughs, because it sounds ridiculous. “Care to explain why?”

“You come, we talk, you leave.” You lean against the wall, your hand ghosting over the handle. “But you never stay that long.”

There’s no mistaking the layered meaning in your words. You, who work with language and its peculiarities for a living, never speak by chance—every phrase, every pause, carries an assigned weight. The double meaning in your statement doesn’t escape either of you.

You’re a natural at this madness, diving headfirst into it. You must be losing it, too, because your actions don’t match what you said before.

Slowly, his fingers brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the perfect excuse to feel your skin, to close the distance without saying what he actually wants.

They say food and shelter are the basic human needs, but Logan chooses to believe they forgot to include the longing to reach out and just feel you.

“I can’t stay,” he finally responds to your earlier comment, his hand still lingering against your skin.

His strength—the only thing saving him from completely giving in—helps him pull himself away.

Before the impulse to kiss you becomes too overwhelming to resist, Logan leaves.

Some time later, you’re making lunch, music playing softly in the background at the same time the city’s distinct noise finds a way to break through your tranquility.

You rely greatly on the knowledge that you’re good at multitasking—now more than ever, with a book in one hand and the other stirring the pasta on the stove.

The warmth from the pot rises around you, but you trust yourself not to be careless. Not to be stupid enough to burn yourself with the boiling water.

This time, you miscalculate. Not only do you dip the wooden spoon into the pot, but your fingertips too.

Though it only lasts a second, and the voice in your head instantly screams Hot! Hot! Hot!, the shock makes you drop the book to the floor. You yank your hand back, racing to the sink to run it under cold water.

“Fuck,” you grumble, watching the skin redden in protest. “Lesson learned: no more multitasking.”

The funny thing is, just a door away, Logan’s watching a movie with Wade when he feels a sting in the tips of his fingers.

It’s barely there, practically faint, but he looks down, inspecting his hand like it doesn’t belong to his own body. His skin briefly flushes with irritation before returning to its normal state.

Wade notices his distraction. “Hey, you okay?”

Logan pays no mind to it. “Sure. Just felt something strange.”

Is it still called avoiding if you’re both doing it? You’d like to think so.

For the sake of clarity, let’s say you’ve been actively avoiding Logan, but truth be told—he’s been avoiding you too. That last encounter in your apartment didn’t help matters at all.

If anything, it made everything worse.

You’ve been down this road before, knowing men like him too well: they’re everywhere, until they’re not.

One day, they vanish without a trace, leaving you staring at the empty space they used to occupy, asking yourself ‘What happened to my Prince Charming in disguise?’

They disappear as though they never existed, and not even the best detective can track them down.

So far, your avoidance strategy has worked wonders. Maybe it’s for the best. He’s a distraction—an undeniably attractive one, the kind anyone would want to trip over.

Yet you miss him, which is dumb: why are you missing someone you were never supposed to care about in the first place?

You return home after a long trip to the grocery store, arms laden with bags. It’s the kind of errand that exhausts you, though you keep telling yourself it’s better than thinking about him.

As you struggle to get through the building's exit, you resign yourself to the fact that it’ll take several trips to bring everything up to your apartment.

Then the elevator doors slide open, and you drop everything to the floor.

You should’ve known better than to assume victory so soon. After days of successfully avoiding him, there he is.

And of course, it’s when you look your worst—tired from running around, weighed down by groceries, barely holding it together.

“Hey,” he greets you, standing just outside the elevator, like he’s not sure if he should step inside or stay where he is. He’s dressed in a red-and-black flannel shirt, layered over a white vest, a leather jacket tossed over his shoulders, and a pair of jeans that seem made for him.

He looks... ridiculously good.

“Hi,” you manage to answer after a beat, scrambling to collect the bags you’d dropped. “Just—give me a second.”

“Let me help you,” Logan says, ducking down to gather the groceries, but you pull them away.

“I’ve got it. Are you going out? On a date, maybe?” You nod toward his clothes, trying to keep things light, teasing even.

Glancing down at himself, a crease appears between his brows, and in one swoop, he gathers all the bags with a single hand. “I’m supposed to meet Wade at a bar, but he’ll survive without me.”

“Logan, you don’t—”

But he’s already moving, one hand tugging you out of the elevator, the other gesturing toward your apartment.

“Not up for debate,” he mutters. Then, without waiting for permission, he holds out his hand. “Keys.”

Sighing, you dig into your pocket and drop them into his open palm. He unlocks the door with practiced ease, stepping inside and placing the bags on your kitchen counter.

As he starts to unpack them, you stop him. “You really don’t need to do that.”

That seems to catch his attention. He pauses, turning toward you with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the counter.

His unrelenting stare sizes you up, and he cocks his head to the side. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

He thinks he’s so discreet, so smooth. “Well, I’ve been busy,” you explain, fiddling with the frayed edge of your sweater, tugging at it like it might unravel your nerves.

You hear him click his tongue. “Been busy too.” His words hang in the air, thickening the atmosphere. Your body tenses, and you stare at his shoes, until— “Sweetheart,” he calls you softly, and your eyes snap shut for a moment, your chin almost pressing against your chest. “My eyes are up here.”

A quick flutter of your lashes brings you back to him, and your chest tightens with the effort it takes to look into his eyes. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” you ask, praying he’ll let this go.

You watch as his mouth twitches with something halfway between a smile and a smirk. “You already want me to leave?”

“If you have plans, then yeah.”

He huffs out a laugh, inhaling a shallow breath like you’ve missed something obvious. “Wade can wait. He’ll be fine.” His expression shifts, and the playful tone in his voice falls away, replaced by something more raw. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You can’t help but snort. “Oh, please. Like you haven’t been doing the same.” You walk over to the couch, feeling your legs wobble beneath you. You collapse into one corner, hoping the distance will help you breathe.

Like a shadow, Logan follows after you, sitting far too close. His legs splay wide, so wide they’re almost grazing yours.

“At least I have a reason for it. What about you?” His hand reaches out, fingers closing around yours in a grip that’s both firm and gentle, enhancing your anxiety. Your throat tightens, the room shrinking around you. “I need you to tell me I’m not crazy,” he says, his voice rough and low. “I need you to tell me you feel it too.”

Panic flares in your chest, and you scramble for time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter, but your voice cracks, the uncertainty leaking through the cracks in your bravado.

He doesn’t buy your acting. “You do. We can’t keep playing dumb. You’re gonna make me lose my fuckin’ mind one of these days.”

It’s not just his words—it’s the way he stands so close, heat radiating from his body, the roughness of his hand gripping yours like he’s terrified you’ll slip away.

The intensity of it all weighs on you in ways you can’t even begin to describe, leaving you breathless, caught between denial and desire.

“Logan, this isn’t—”

“What? Okay?” There’s a glimpse of mirthlessness in his tone as he speaks, his forehead furrowing. “I can’t stay away from you, don’t you see it? It feels too good to be wrong,” he utters, inching forward. You know you should take a step back, tell him to stop. Nothing good can come from this. “It takes two to feel these things. It can’t be just me.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to give in.” Blood pounds in your ears, your pulse racing as your heart hammers unpleasantly. Little shivers of ice run through your spine, and yet, your stomach burns with desire.

More than ever, you feel yourself slipping, your sanity at risk.

Logan runs his eyes up and down your face, agitated, almost going cross-eyed. “Earlier you asked if I was going on a date. Would you like that? Me being with other people? Kissing another woman?” His hot breath caresses your cheek, and you avert your gaze momentarily. “Answer me.”

Don’t do it. For the love of God, don’t. “I can’t—I don’t—”

“Come on, baby.”

“I don’t want you to be with other people,” you mumble, your lips almost grazing his, and that’s all he needs to grip your chin and pull you into a kiss.

His mouth moves hungrily over yours, pushing you back until the armrest digs into your lower back. A choked whimper gets lost in your throat, and you bring him closer by grabbing onto the lapels of his jacket, your chest pressing against his.

Logan bites down on your lip, soothing the sting with his tongue, and the moan you let out reverberates in the apartment.

“This is what you were hiding from me?” he rasps, his forehead bumping against yours. “These sweet sounds you make?”

You end up perched in his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips. He’s hard beneath you, and as you shift, your center makes contact with his erection through the layers of fabric.

Both of you sigh into each other’s mouths, your hips moving on their own accord, rocking slightly against his clothed cock. He hooks one of his arms around your waist, guiding your movements.

Everything seems to fall into place. Outside your window, birds chirp. The world feels lighter, like a better place. The beast inside you quiets, and for once, your mind is blissfully blank.

Logic? Error 404—not found.

You tug at his hair, and Logan growls, breaking the kiss. “Do that again.” He jerks under your touch, bucking up into you. Encouraged, you pull his hair again, fingers wrapping around a strand at the nape of his neck, and you’re rewarded with a deep groan.

He’s dizzy for it, but you’re no better, not when he trails his kisses down your neck, his mouth latching onto your skin, tasting the sweat and salt.

“I can’t control myself around you,” he murmurs, groping your tits, and you wail, the ache between your legs becoming intolerable. His hands slip under your sweater, caressing the scars on your back.

That’s when recognition settles over you.

What are you doing? And why are you doing it?

He ceases sucking your flesh when you go rigid on top of him. Pecking your lips once again, Logan’s hands cradle your face, his thumbs rubbing circles on your cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t understand how he does it, how he can remain so calm. Doesn’t he realize the gravity of this? “We have to stop.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask me something you already know the answer to.”

His arms drop to his sides, releasing you from his hold. You push yourself off him, away from the couch, putting as much distance between you as you can.

Pressing your palms to your eyes, you shake your head. “God, I’m stupid. This is stupid.”

Your reaction seems to get on his nerves, his frustration somehow increasing. Logan stands, towering over you. “Was it stupid when you were dry humping me?”

“Fuck you, Logan.”

“I’m not the bad guy here. You kissed me back.” He doesn’t let up, trailing behind you as you try to escape. “You want me as much as I want you.”

“Will you stop saying that?” you bark, throwing your arms in the air. Your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths. “Yeah, we like each other. So? Does that make it right? How can you just ignore how wrong this is?”

His expression hardens, anger flashing in his eyes. “Forget your idea of what's good and bad. You're just upset you can't control what you feel.”

“He’s closer than ever.”

Logan gawks at you, his voice bitter as he goes on with his rambling. “That fucker again? Don’t you ever get tired of talking about someone who you don’t even know? Because you’re certainly wearing me out.”

“You wish you were him, don’t you?” You jab your finger into his chest, feeling his heartbeat, a flutter you choose to ignore. “You want to be my soulmate.”

“Damn right I do,” he practically spits his words, narrowing his eyes at you. “But I’m not him.”

“No. You’re not.”

Everything seems to fall out of place. Outside your window, birds don’t chirp—they scream for mercy. The world doesn’t feel lighter, but heavier. The beast inside you roars back to life, restless and louder than ever, while your mind spins in chaos.

“We shouldn’t see each other anymore.” Your voice pierces through the thick silence in the room, and you swallow down the lump forming in your throat.

“If that’s what you want,” he replies, his jaw clenched tight, irritation radiating off him in waves.

“It’s what we both need.”

“Speak for yourself. I don’t have a soulmate.” His tone is biting, but you don’t miss the undercurrent of longing in his words. “But if in any other universe I do, I hope it’s you.”

Your hand turns the knob, and then he’s halfway out the door, sparing you one last glance before he turns his back to you.

No more visits. No more books. No more bruising kisses that leave you questioning your mere existence.

Let things stay as they are—it’s safer that way. You don’t want to know the reason behind this forceful need.

After all, being his grumpy and ill-tempered self, he’ll stay holed up in Wade’s apartment, avoiding any interaction with the real world. And you? You’ll forget about him. Easy-peasy.

It didn’t go well in the end.

You remember your first heartbreak—seventeen, fresh out of high school. One of your hands clutched a million dreams, and the other, a pillow soaked with your tears.

Your mother remained by your side, caressing your back, attempting to soothe the sobs that racked your body. She murmured that it’d pass, that you wouldn’t feel like this forever. You believed her then, and trusted that things would eventually be okay.

Almost ten years later, another heartbreak shouldn’t come as a surprise. By now, you thought you would’ve developed the tools to survive it. You should be able to piece yourself back together by instinct.

But life, as it turns out, has a peculiar way of catching you off guard.

Whether it’s pent-up horniness, touch-starvation, or genuine affection—it doesn't change the fact that your pseudo-relationship with Logan fell apart.

Though you’re not the one who’s suffering the most. Neither is Logan.

Wade, the third party in this tangled mess, has somehow taken it the hardest.

“I feel like a child of divorce,” he says, his head resting on your lap, eyes distant as they fixate on the peeling wallpaper. “You need to do something about that.”

“I’ll take care of it next month.”

He’s supposed to be the one supporting you, but it feels like the roles are reversed—you’re comforting him, letting him vent.

“My two favorite people now can’t even be in the same room. What are we gonna do for Christmas? New Year's Eve?” Straightening up, he grabs the nearest cushion and buries his face into it to muffle a defeated scream. “Damn it, Cupid! You had one job!”

All in all, Wade’s emotionally unavailable at the moment, grieving your separation from Logan as if it were his own loss, too caught up in his melodrama to be of any real help.

Meanwhile, you fill your days with work, books, anything to keep your mind occupied.

You go to bed too late, you wake up too early. Sleep too little, cry too much.

One thing stays constant—you and Logan don’t talk. Stolen glances in the hallway, awkward elevator rides—those are the only remnants of whatever you once were. Back to being strangers again. 

Well, not really. Strangers don’t know the route to your mouth the way he does.

The ache lingers every day. Missing him when you’re awake is a common occurrence. At night, as you toss and turn beneath the sheets, he stars in your dreams. You can’t recall the last time he wasn’t lodged in your thoughts. 

Where there used to be ideas, creativity, and plots worth scribbling down, there’s now only Logan—a man destined to problematize your stay on earth.

That fucker again? Don’t you ever get tired of talking about someone who you don’t even know? Because you’re certainly wearing me out.

And yet, despite all of it, you continue to prioritize someone else. Someone who isn’t even here. Clung to the idea of a soulmate, you chose him over Logan.

What did he expect? For you to abandon your principles, your belief in destiny? It’s who you are. Nearly thirty years of life guided by one belief can’t just be discarded like trash.

You liked to separate things into categories: good and bad, right and wrong. A simple method to structure everything, to make sense of your world, and it has worked most of the time.

But now? The limits of those sacred categories look blurred. Your judgment feels unreliable, and you wonder if the choices you’ve made lately have been the correct ones.

Each of your decisions seems to be leading you further down a path you can’t recognize. 

What’s the goal? Finding your soulmate, the voice in your head mockingly answers for the hundredth time, rolling its imaginary eyes. And where is he?

You’ve shut Logan out, a man who’s made it clear he has feelings for you, for this elusive person. Isn’t it time he steps into the light at long last?

This is what you fear the most: loneliness.

You don’t want to be the lone woman who sits by herself in a cafe, drawing pity from waitresses who discuss her solitude. By no means do you wish to be that friend who dispenses wise dating advice, but goes home to an empty bed. You refuse to become the godmother whose hand no one holds when her time comes.

No, this can’t be all fate has to offer to you. There must be more. If your life were a book, you’d be flipping through the pages to the last chapter, desperate to see how it ends.

Or, better yet, you’d grab a pen and rewrite it yourself. What kind of ending you’ll have—you’re not so sure about that.

It’s Sunday, one of those endless weekends where the only way to survive is by rearranging your entire apartment. You could manage it alone, but help would be nice—Wade’s help, to be more precise, would be perfect for this kind of task, and you find yourself knocking on his door. 

No answer. Deciding to dial his number to see if he’s fallen asleep, you try calling him, waiting through the rings until he finally picks up. “Hey.”

Except it’s not Wade’s voice that answers. “I’m sorry, who is this?”

The door swings open, and Logan appears right behind it, holding Wade’s phone to his ear.

He narrows his eyes, leaning against the frame, a single eyebrow lifted in curiosity. “How sad. You don’t remember what I sound like.”

You feel foolish for still being on the call, so you lock your phone, ending it. “Where’s Wade?” you ask, frowning as you hold your breath, your voice sharper than intended.

“Out and about. Didn’t tell me where he was going,” Logan replies, glaring at you as he raises the phone to your face. “He left without this.”

Abort mission! Nodding in agreement, you begin to step back. “Great, I’ll look for him later.”

You’re close to being locked up once again in the safety of your apartment when you hear him: “You need anything?”

It’s the most he’s said to you in weeks. You hesitate, keeping your back turned. “I’m moving some heavy stuff around. Thought I could use the help.”

“I could do it.”

No. Not really. He’s doing that thing again—offering help when you know you shouldn’t accept it. You shake your head.

“It’s not necessary,” you say, forcing a casual tone.

“Doesn’t have to mean anything,” he retorts, his footsteps heavy and deliberate as they draw closer. With each passing second, your options shrink, leaving you no room for retreat. “Don’t worry. I won’t try to kiss you again if that’s what’s got you all worked up.”

“I’m not worked up,” you hiss, and he sidesteps you easily, his arm nudging yours.

The electricity is still there, undeniable, but neither of you has the courage to acknowledge it, acting as though it’s an ordinary occurrence.

His eyes roam the room, like he’s forgotten what your apartment looked like. He pauses by the bookshelf, his fingers gliding over the spine of Jane Eyre, and a low whistle escapes him as he slips it back into place. 

You, frozen at the threshold, feel your irritation simmering just beneath the surface, and the urge to hide in your bedroom only becomes stronger.

After this, you’ll have to burn your favorite book. What a pity.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, hooking his fingers into the loops of his jeans, his posture both confident and annoyingly relaxed.

There’s a challenge in his tone, and he acts as if you’re the one who pulled him into this situation—like he didn’t worm his way in here.

You gesture toward the couch. “Can you put it by the window?”

He sets to work, moving the smaller pieces of furniture aside to make space for the couch. Under no circumstances are you going to just stand there and watch him sweat.

Instead, you busy yourself with the long-forgotten glasses and cups gathering dust in one of the kitchen cabinets, each one glinting with past disappointments.

Wetting a towel, you start by wiping the rims. The air feels heavily charged with uneasiness, but you're relieved that for once, you can breathe without feeling like you’re on the brink of a heart attack.

You can already imagine Wade’s face when you tell him—

“So,” Logan’s voice cuts through the silence, startling you, “how’s the search going? Got any luck?”

His words have the desired effect on you, and the glass slips from your grasp, shattering against the floor in a crash that mirrors the jump of your heart. You curse under your breath, stepping back from the mess, taking in the shards sprawled around your shoes.

“Be careful,” he says from the other side of the room, still dragging the furniture into place, and you scrutinize him over your shoulder, your brows knitted.

“I don’t need your advice,” you murmur through gritted teeth as you crouch to pick up the larger shards. His attention returns to the couch, but you guess he’s not technically thinking how nice of a person you are.

As you kneel, your hands tremble slightly, and you wonder when that started. You fumble for a larger shard of glass, bracing your hand against the floor for balance, unaware of the smaller piece lying dangerously close to your fingers.

The sting comes fast, slicing through the skin of your pinky. You flinch, raising your hand, and Logan, hearing the faint wince, abandons his task and crosses the room to you.

"I don’t need your advice," he echoes, mocking your tone as he squats beside you, his hand closing around yours to inspect the wound. "You’re bleeding."

“Brilliant observation, Sherlock. I hadn’t noticed—” The words die in your throat, your eyes widening as you take a closer look at his hand. “Wait, why are you bleeding?”

He snorts, diverting his attention to his own hand. “What do you mean I’m—” Whatever it is he intended to shoot back remains unsaid as both of you stare down at the small cut in his pinky.

Driven by instinct, you place your hands side by side, your finger grazing his. The cuts are identical: same place, same width, same depth. The only difference is his vanishes within seconds, leaving only a few droplets of crimson blood as evidence.

Logan couldn’t have cut himself. He was nowhere near the glass. “Are you…?” You swallow thickly, trying to string together a coherent thought, dizziness making its triumphant appearance. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yes.”

“And what is that—”

“I need a drink.”

“Can you stop acting like a dick for one second?” You peer into his glossy eyes, watching him try to avoid your gaze, though he can’t seem to resist. “Please, Logan. Look at me.”

When he does, his mouth parts as if to speak, then closes again. “I don’t understand. I thought I didn’t have a soulmate.” His gruff tone slows even further, like he's straining to push the words from his lungs. “I thought—I thought I was alone.”

It explains so much: how your scars had reappeared once he and Wade returned from The Void. 

The instant attraction, the yearning to be near him.

The dread that washed over you each time he walked away.

The dreams that plagued your nights, and the tightness in your chest these past few weeks that made you wonder if you could ever coexist in the same space as him without breaking apart.

All those times you felt he was getting closer weren’t just a figment of your imagination—he was, in fact, right there.

But he wasn’t just anyone—it was him. Logan is your soulmate. You two are meant to be together. How long would it take for you to truly believe it? Until it no longer sounded like something too good to be true?

Without uttering a sound, Logan gazes at you, silently pleading to see them. To see your scars. You extend your arm, and with a gentle motion, he rolls up the sleeve of your shirt, revealing the marks etched into your skin.

He runs his fingers along the lines, trying to understand the bond you now share—both his and yours.

In a sense, you’re his. You carry his scars, the physical manifestation of the life he has lived. Even though he may not bear any of his own, you do, and that’s more than enough.

He belongs to you just as much as you belong to him.

“There are more,” you tell him. your voice barely above a whisper. He stands, offering you his hand, and you take it, rising to your feet. Logan inches closer, his mouth hovering just above yours, his large hand coming up to cup your cheek.

The look he gives you is one reserved for those he loves, a look filled with such warmth and affection that it almost feels dreamlike.

“Do you want me to see them?” he inquires, and all he needs is a nod from you to gently tug your shirt up your chest and over your head.

He lets out a dry chuckle when you attempt to tame your hair, the effort proving to be in vain. The clock on the wall seems to pause its ticking the moment his fingers begin to trail each of the scars that captures his gaze.

You can’t even begin to fathom what thoughts might be swirling in his mind, but if the flicker of lust and desire you catch in his expression is anything to go by, you’re not so worried.

Logan’s touch carries an unexpected softness, a tenderness you never imagined a man like him could possess.

Deep down, you wish he understood that these scars don’t hurt, that they never have. “I’m okay,” you reassure him, prompting him to explore more of your skin, to claim you as his.

“Do you… like them?” he asks without meeting your eyes.

Do you like my scars? is the real question hidden underneath.

Do you like me? is the one he can’t bring himself to pronounce.

“They’re yours. I could never not like them.” 

Before you stands a man you once believed was meant to be your burden, your trial. Logan had been the earthquake sent to test your endurance, to see how much you could withstand before surrendering and waving the white flag.

The same fingers that once imprinted his mark on you now linger on the strap of your bra, waiting for you to decide whether to let him go further or stop.

Desire has a limit before it overwhelms. There’s only so much need a person can contain before it spills over, uncontrollable and raw.

This game, one you never learned how to play, feels as foreign to him as it does to you—neither of you knows the rules.

“Can I see more?” He’s still talking about the scars, still fumbling with the strap, and you nod, your eyelids growing droopier as you take his free hand and direct it to the front of your jeans.

He catches the hint, undoing the button with ease, allowing you to shed the last layers of restraint.

Bare, moments away from being completely naked, standing in stark contrast to Logan, who remains fully clothed, your stomach does a flip as he rubs his thumb along the sides of your underwear.

Leaning your forehead against his shoulder, you stifle a sigh when he splays his hand across your lower back, pulling you closer.

His rough grip tightens on your ass, testing the feel of you, while your breathing becomes shallow, erratic.

“What is it, honey?” He slides his fingers your stomach, just below your belly button, brushing a small scar in there. “Want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” you croak, the plea slipping out involuntarily, throwing your arms around his neck. He buries his face against your jaw, his lips parting against your skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck.

You tilt your head back, exposing more of your throat to him, breathless as you whisper: “I’ve waited so long.”

He moves toward the couch, and you follow, trying to anticipate what he’s got planned for you. “I know, baby. I know. You’ve waited long enough.” Guiding your body down, he has you lying horizontally on the sofa. He unhooks your bra, kneading your breasts with both hands, eliciting a ragged gasp from you. “But I’m here now. You don’t have to wait any longer,” he huffs by your ear, rolling your nipples between his fingers, his breath mingling with yours, each exhale warm and inviting. “Gonna let me make you feel good? Show you how much I’ve been thinkin’ about you?”

Instead of answering with real words, you surge forward, crashing your lips against with his, reveling in the way he cages you with his biceps, locking you up in a prison of desire from which you never wish to break free. He tries not to settle his full weight on top of you, attentive not to crush you.

As he nips at the column of your throat, you squirm beneath him, canting your hips up to seek the friction you crave.

He presses his knee against your center and you push back, grinding against him with an animalistic urgency.

You can’t recall ever feeling this desperate, this overwhelmed by a man. But then again, he’s unlike any other you’ve encountered in your array of momentary hookups.

His kisses grow even more insistent as breathy moans roll off to your tongue, merging with the occasional creak of the couch beneath your movements.

Logan spreads your thighs wider, sinking to his knees on the floor to tug your lower half forward until your ass is almost hanging in the air. He places your thighs on his shoulders, supporting you as he leans in to pepper your soft flesh with kisses.

One can be certain that he’s marking your inner thighs with a hickey or two, the scratch of his beard feeling magnificent against your sensitive skin, and you can hardly bring yourself to think about the potential burn he’ll leave behind. Logan inhales your scent, the tip of his nose dangerously close to your cunt, and you tangle a hand in his hair as he continues to test your patience.

“Eager?” he wonders aloud, looking at you through his lashes. While maintaining eye contact, he presses a kiss to your clit through the fabric of your panties.

He does it again, and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, his fingers deftly pulling your underwear down your legs.

The first drag of his tongue along your folds has you scrunching your eyebrows in pleasure, tightening your grip on his hair. Logan moans against you, the sound muffled as he dips the tip of his tongue into your entrance, lapping at your arousal with an insatiable hunger.

The way you purr his name—a soft caress, a pat on his back that says Yeah, you’re doing fine—only spurs him on, infusing every one of his ministrations with fervor.

His longing for you radiates in the intensity of his touch, sending shivers through you, making you writhe because of his hands alone.

Your core throbs. Your skin prickles with electricity. Your legs quake on either side of his face. He’s hungry and you’re his feast. He’s parched and you’re the last bottle of water in an arid world.

Logan eats you out like this will be the only time he’ll have the privilege—each movement calculated, pushing all the right buttons, pulling out every trick he knows to make you think No, it doesn’t get any better than this. This is as much as one can get.

Then his fingers join the symphony of pleasure, pumping in and out of you as he keeps flicking your clit with expert precision, and your back arches from the couch, following his pace with your hips. He pushes back, you push forward—he pushes forward, you push back.

Who is enjoying this more: him or you?

His pointed tongue teases your bud, matched with the persistent hammering of his fingers plunged into your wet heat. The combination has you coming on his mouth, falling over the precipice while you struggle to keep yourself together.

Your walls flutter around his digits, and your cries fuse with his groans, both overshadowed by his insatiable desire to savor until the last drop of your release.

Shockwaves ripple through your body and you prop your weight on your arms to capture his lips in a fervent kiss, your eyes rolling rolling back in ecstasy as you taste yourself, a mix of sour and sweet.

In a frenzy, he sheds his clothes, practically tearing them away, and you wrap your hand around his length, stroking him in time with your kisses. Logan pulls back, panting against you, and you steal a glance at him.

Your gaze travels down to his hard cock, the tip a furious red, and he seizes your wrist.

“Why don’t you kiss it better?” he rasps, his voice dropping an octave. In this moment, you’re taken aback by his beauty, and the urge to express it rises within you.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur against his thigh, showering his skin with heated kisses. You stare in disbelief at the trail of hair leading to his girth, mouth watering at the sight.

A kiss on the tip, followed by a broad lick along a prominent vein—Logan’s grip on the armrest tightens, his knuckles turning white. “So perfect.”

“Shut up,” he retorts breathlessly, but you revel in the strangled noise that escapes him as you take him deeper, his head disappearing between your lips. His palm rests on your nape, anchoring you in place. “Goddammit. The fuckin’—mouth you have on you.”

You try to take him in further once you’re feeling more confident, while Logan fights with all his might against the need to thrust his hips up into your warmth. He can’t stay still, grunting and smothering you with lavish praise that heightens your arousal, slick pouring out of you in waves.

“Pretty thing you are. Don’t even know how to function around you. You got me all—fuck, actin’ all stupid.”

At one point, he tells you to stop, because he doesn’t want to come just yet. You know what comes next as he rubs his cock along your folds, blending your wetness with his precum.

It’s sloppy, and dirty, and messy—and God, do you love it.

He sinks into you and the world collides in a way you never expected. Everything you thought you knew falls apart, leaving you stranded in unfamiliar territory.

You can’t comprehend how you’ve spent so many years without him. Without this.

Your lips find his, and he swallows every sound he punches out of your lungs. His thrusts grow harder and faster as you adjust to his size, how big he feels inside you.

He digs his fingers into the globes of your ass, yanking you towards his shaft every time he fucks into you. You feel the brush of his balls against your skin, the way his muscles flex beneath your touch.

To this day, it’s still hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that love is what humans both strive and die for.

You come to understand it fully as his eyes flicker to yours, checking for any signs of discomfort in your features.

You understand why people write books and songs about love when he breathes your name in the shell of your ear, chanting how good you’re taking him, how tight and wet you are for him.

You understand the place love occupies in your life as the sound of your bodies slapping together creates a melody which has never been played before.

You understand why you’ve searched for this your entire life, lifting every carpet in hopes of uncovering the love you’ve pined for.

In the past, it had always felt like a race—finding your soulmate before the clock struck twelve. Now that you have him, you wonder what the future holds for you, how this connection will evolve.

For now, you can allow yourself the possibility of relishing the drag of his cock in your interior. His pace doesn’t falter for a second—something about mutants and their non-stop stamina, no doubt. He shoves a hand between your sweaty bodies, rubbing circles on your already swollen bud.

Each time he fills you to the brim, you have to ground yourself, resisting the pull of an altered reality.

“So full,” you blurt out, mewling with a specially hard thrust, a chocked sob lodged in your throat. “Please, stay.”

It could mean many things: Please, keep fucking me. Please, don’t leave after this. Please, remain by my side form this moment onward, because I don’t know how to go on with my life now that I’ve experienced this closeness.

Whatever meaning he ascribes to your words is of little importance. He tightens his arms around you, kissing you deeply, tongue and teeth clashing as they compete to see who wins the battle. “Never. I’m never lettin’ you go, y’hear me?”

Heat pools in your lower back, a coiling tension radiating through your limbs. “You’re mine, princess. Can’t afford to lose you now that I found you. Gonna remind you every day.”

His rambling pushes you over the edge, your dripping cunt spasming around him as you reach your climax, moaning his name against his shoulder. You cling to him, convulsing beneath his body, and he grinds his hips into yours, his chest rumbling as he growls.

“Inside,” you mumble, extending your hand to press it to his waist. “Need you inside me. Please, I want it so bad.”

Logan stutters against you, his forehead falling against your collarbone as he finishes with one powerful thrust, his cock pulsing warm ropes of come within your cunt. You clench around him, whining as he prolongs both your pleasure and his, milking the last drop of his seed. His voice is a constant murmur, filling every space in the room until he slumps against you.

Night has fallen. The cut on your pinky no longer stings. Your scars, after all, are still there, nestled against Logan’s unmarked skin. You caress his back, sighing contentedly as a wave of peace washes over you.

You’ve never felt this relaxed.

Logan grasps your chin and tilts it up, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips. “Hey,” he mutters, his gaze roaming all over your face.

You cup his cheek, his rough stubble grazing your palm. “Hey, stranger. Long time no see.”

A genuine laugh pierces through the silence. the kind he rarely allows himself. Crinkles form at the corners of his eyes, his brow furrowing as he glances at you with love.

Love—hadn’t you pondered its existence for so long? Your fuel for living, the muse behind your best poems, a recurring motif in your fantasies.

Love now has Logan’s name written in ink, no longer a blank canvas awaiting its unknown owner. No—it’s all his now.

You’d do it all over again if it meant ending up like this, tangled and intertwined, with the promise of a future together. He has many stories to share—about his past universe, about himself. You have secrets to unveil, too. There’s so much you both have yet to discover about each other.

But time isn’t up. This isn’t a race, you remind yourself: things are just getting started.

Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is. Love is dressed up in an expensive silk robe, a ribbon tied neatly on top of it. You reach closer, trying to unravel it, though it's pointless. The moment love sees you—truly sees your longing for it—it flees, and you struggle to keep up. Love runs faster than anyone, hiding within the bushes, counting the seconds until its next appearance.

Finally, you’ve wrapped love around your finger.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 4th — virginity loss / corruption kink.

PART ONE | kinktober masterlist. | 2024.

pairing: mattheo riddle x berkshires!sister

summary: mattheo’s conscience can only hold him back for so long.

warnings: 18+, hogwarts uni (putting this even tho it’s obvious), jealous mattheo, flirting, tension tension tension, “we can’t do this” type of vibe, “your brother is right over there” type of vibe. bestfriends lil sister trope. part one of two.

Morality—what is it, really? How is it measured? Is it a linear scale? Could someone be morally sound yet sometimes make an exception when the situation called for it?

Perhaps it's subjective. Anything that falls outside of the law, that is.

Mattheo forced a breath from his lungs, the drink in his hand was tasteless, some watered-down excuse for a cocktail. But that didn't matter, not really—what mattered was the way you kept laughing, the way your hand lingered a second too long on that random bastard's sleeve. The sight made something concerning coil tight in his chest, but he stayed where he was, back against the wall, sucking down drinks like he'd been tasked to it.

God, this was stupid. Morality. Right and wrong. He knew the difference, of course he did. Just because he was a Riddle didn't make him a monster. Not yet, anyway. But that line, the one between you and him—the one drawn so clearly in the sand—was practically mocking him with its absolutes and daring him to cross it. Forbidden, off-limits, the one thing he shouldn't want.

His best friend's little sister. The good girl. A virgin, no less.

"Riddle—you coming?"

Mattheo's head jerked slightly, but his mind was miles away.

He waved a hand. "I'll catch up in a bit.”

Malfoy and Zabini nodded, slipping into the night, leaving him behind in the dim, crowded ballroom. Spring dance. Hours past dusk. He didn't even know why he was still there. Normally, he was long gone before the clock struck twelve, but tonight the room pulsed with bodies and the music hummed under his skin. His drink was half-forgotten in his hand, and his gaze was fixed on a group across the room.

Or, more specifically, on you.

You were standing, black dress to your mid-thighs, half-listening to boys from your year drone on about quidditch tryouts and the usual chatter that filled the space between your breaths. But your eyes—your eyes weren't on them. You were looking at him. A soft smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, like you knew something he didn't.

His heart kicked against his ribs. Where was that line again?

You winked, and he sipped his drink. He'd always said bad decisions made good stories—but even if this (unnameable thing between you) was a story worth telling, the people to hear it would be few.

The tension grew suffocating and he finally looked away. You took that as a win, but you weren't about to let the game end there—not after you noted the tense of his fingers around his cup. You excused yourself from the group, your body moving through the crowd like water, fluid and unhurried, weaving your way toward him.

You knew the line well, the one Mattheo pretended so hard to respect. Restraint wasn't his nature—it never had been, not in the decade you'd watched him take whatever he wanted without a second thought. He wasn't made for holding back, and it showed every now and then—every time his lips crashed against yours in some hidden corner, whispering confessions of how badly he wanted more, how he ached for what he couldn't have.

You loved pushing him to that point. You loved knowing how bad he wanted you. Your brother would lose his mind if he found out. But that didn't matter, not even a little. Not when Mattheo looked at you like that.

"Having fun?" He asked upon your approach, his voice a shade too flat.

"A little." You leaned against the wall beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your skin, your presence seeping into the space between you. "What about you? You seem a bit...tense."

"Tense." The word came out bland, barely audible, and he took a slow sip of his drink, like he needed it just to find his voice. "Why would I be tense?"

You wet your lips, slow, deliberate, studying him with that sidelong glance that made his pulse skip. His jaw tightened, and his eyes—those beautiful, dangerous brown eyes—scanned the room with something too close to desperation.

"Good question." You tilted your head, gaze playful, curious, like you were dissecting him right there in the half-light. "Maybe it's because you've been watching me like a hawk. Like you're waiting for me to do something...wrong."

"Maybe I'm just looking out for you," he muttered, his gaze sliding to your brother across the room, lips locked with some brunette. Mattheo's eyes flickered back to you, just for a moment. "Your brother's a little...busy, after all."

You raised an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into an amused, almost wicked smile. "Ah, so that's it. You're just being my big, overprotective babysitter."

"I don't need to babysit you," he grumbled, though his gaze betrayed him, darting over to the group of boys you'd been talking to. "Just keeping an eye on the company you keep."

It was almost amusing—the way Mattheo stood there, sizing up your guy friends like they were targets in a lineup, probably mentally noting who he'd hit first if any of them dared to step out of line. He was different tonight—and you could have brushed it off, could have let that flicker of vulnerability slide, but that wasn't how this game was played. Not with him. Not with you. There was no room for naivety here.

You turned to face him now, full-on, shoulder resting against the wall as you raised a hand, fingers brushing lightly up his arm.

"Keeping an eye," you repeated as you traced the hard line of his shoulder, then down, lower, over his chest. "Ever my hero, Mattheo Riddle."

When your fingers grazed his abdomen, his breath caught and he grabbed your wrist—hard—the suddenness of it making you gasp. Then, he turned to face you, and his gaze finally met yours—really met yours—for the first time since you'd crossed the room.

"Don't." His voice was low, strained, like he was fighting himself as much as you.

Your eyes widened in mock surprise, that innocent look you'd perfected like a sport. You wore it like a halo you knew you didn't deserve.

"Don't...what?" You damn-well knew what.

His grip tightened, just enough for you to feel the heat of it, pulling you closer, so close you could feel the tension radiating off him. He wet his lips, and you melted—remembering how it felt to kiss them.

"Don't play games with me." He said. "Not tonight."

The warning was clear, but instead of pulling away—heeding his words and letting that heat simmer down—you leaned closer, defying every unspoken rule. The thrill shot up your spine, into your brain, turning everything hazy, electric. You were drunk on it.

"Why not?" Your free hand traced up his other arm and his gaze followed the movement, lips parting ever so slightly. "...afraid you'll lose?"

Before you knew what was happening, he had you spun around—so fast you barely registered the movement before your back hit the cold stone wall. His drink found the table beside him, his focus entirely on you.

"Don't to this to me. Not here," he whispered. "Your brother is right over there."

You glanced toward Enzo, still too preoccupied with the brunette to notice a thing.

"He's a little distracted, don't you think?" Your fingers on your free hand resumed their path, this time up toward his collarbone. But his other hand found them, too. You looked down. Two large hands, wrapped tight around your wrists, like he could stop the fire running through your veins if he just held on hard enough. Your thighs shook. "Gods, you really are tense tonight, aren't you?"

Mattheo's eyes narrowed, two embers gleaming in the night— his lips twitching in a way that made your pulse stutter. There was need in him now, a raw, visceral energy that vibrated between you. Untethered.

He leaned in, closer, his breath brushing against your skin. "You're impossible."

"Impossible..." you echoed, the space between you shrinking with every second. There was no choice in it. It was magnetic, inevitable. He leaned closer, and you—against all reason—matched him, drawn by a force you couldn't name. "Impossible to...resist, Matty?"

Your lips were so close, you could almost taste the flavours lingering on his breath. The heat of him drew you in like gravity, pulling you into that dangerous space where everything blurred—boundaries, rules, reason. His eyes flickered down to your mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in a way that felt instinctive—

And then, the world snapped back.

Cheering—loud, raucous—followed by the sharp crack of glass splintering against the floor. It cut through the moment, pulling you both back to reality. Mattheo's gaze jerked toward the sound, and in an instant he took a step back, his hands releasing your wrists like you'd burned him—like you were the danger here, a fire he'd gotten too close to.

"We can't," he whispered, and it sliced through you. It hit harder than the crash of glass, harder than the noise around you. "You don't want this. I promise you don't."

You stared at him. You knew what he meant, what he was trying to say, the warning etched in every tense line of his body. The two of you had been over this before. You knew Mattheo Riddle was not the man who would love you, not the man who would stay, who you'd call your forever. You weren't that naive. You weren't looking for forever—you just wanted a beginning. A first. A first that would teach you the edge of desire, with someone who knew what to do.

Someone experienced.

"I do," you whispered, barely holding steady under the weight of it all—the realization that you'd almost kissed him, right here, where anyone could've seen, where your brother wasn't far. "More than anything, I do."

His jaw clenched, that flicker in his eyes darkening. He ran a hand through his hair, curls falling messily back into place, his face twisted in thought, already calculating the fallout, already seeing the inevitable consequences.

"Your brother will kill me," he muttered. "He'll kill you."

"He’s not my dad, Mattheo. I’m an adult. He doesn't have to know." The words came out firm, too firm for how fast your heart was beating. You didn't dare move closer, but the tension between you was still electric, still alive. "No one except us."

For a heartbeat, his eyes locked onto yours, and you felt it—that gravity pulling you both back to the brink. It was visible—the weight of his indecision, the way he was measuring the risk, the pull of you against the walls he was trying to keep intact. It'd been months of this. You were relentless. His scowl deepened, but he didn't pull away. He let the silence stretch, your words simmering between you like a match lit, waiting to catch fire.

And then, a nod.

Barely there, just a sharp dip of his head, almost as if he didn't want to acknowledge it himself. You couldn't tell if it was for you, or some silent permission he was giving himself, a final surrender to the pull that neither of you could fight.

"Room of Requirement," he said, vibrating with the tension that still hummed in the air. "Ten minutes."

Your stomach leapt into your throat, every bone in your body suddenly weak. After a moment that felt as though it went on forever, you nodded, and he took another step back.

"Ten minutes." You repeated.

"Ten minutes." He confirmed, before turning and heading out of the ballroom.

[college-cryptids]

thinking about telemachus recently and how odysseus was gone for like. his entire life. strictly speaking, telemachus wasn't the child of a single parent but he may as well have been. do you think that showed through, when odysseus did finally return home?

certainly, he was always a mama's boy. no one doubted that. he had no one else, after all. there was laertes, and the men around the palace (who harbored a disgust for the horde of suitors that almost rivalled penelope's) and he loved them all dearly, but it was not the same. telemachus grew up loving his mother with all of his heart, and defending her with all his strength.

and then this man comes home, and he has telemachus' smile and he knows things that only telemachus' father would know, but he is a stranger. odysseus arrives home as a creature of myth, the misty stuff of fables that you could almost touch if you reached, but never quite grasp. telemachus does not know this man, but seeing him that day in the throne room is the first time in twenty years that penelope has shed tears of joy instead of pain, so he decides there must be something to him. he smiles at this man's jokes and listens raptly to his stories (and he does have so many stories!) but there is always that distance there. a gap in the planks of the bridge, a crevasse that's just too wide to jump across. he tries to know him, but it is not as easy as either of them would like it to be.

it is penelope that finally bridges the gap. telemachus finds her in tears again one day, tucked away somewhere odysseus would not see, and he rushes to his mother's side, but when he reaches her she cups his face the way she did when he was a boy. her hands are thinner now than they were then, and there are lines on her face that had not been there before, but behind the glimmer of tears is that spark. that strong, intelligent spark that first drew odysseus to her; that spark that convinced young telemachus that his mother could rival athena in wisdom if she wished to be so bold.

but these tears, he finds, are not the ones he expected. as penelope takes her son into her arms she whispers, you're just like him. you're so much like your father, and i am so proud.

and that sticks.

telemachus meets the stranger with his father's face and thinks, he's just like me. he watches him laugh the way he himself does, he compares his face and odysseus' in a mirror and the similarities make him smile this time. he hears others in the palace tell of the king's courage and his wit and he thinks, perhaps i can be like him. perhaps he is like me.

telemachus greets odysseus that night and calls him father, and for the first time, the word does not feel strange on his tongue.

it feels right.

[temis-de-leon]

Pick me girls and OM! Brothers - Part 1

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon and Levi (x reader, separately)

Part 2 - Satan, Asmo, Beel and Belphie (x reader, separately)

Part 3 - Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon (x reader, separately)

Masterlist

CW: pick me girl behavior, suggestive, mentions of sex between the brothers and mc, mentions of violence, a bit of magic, mentions of cheating (not actual cheating), mammon and mc taking a shower together, jealous mc, some fluff, some hurt, some comfort, kinda ooc but i had so much fun with this

.

Lucifer

Wherever you went, rumor followed. Haven't you heard? The mighty Lord of Pride has a significant other. Who could it be? Maybe the prince or his butler? Both of them? Or perhaps it was just some random demon? Surely not the human... right?

"Of course not!" said the witch, surrounded by both curious and jealous nobles.

You weren't in the balcony, but you could still hear the conversation in your spot near the open door. You could also hear the gasps and the murmurs. It was ridiculous.

What to do next? You could interrupt the gossip and make your relationship public; after all, it was only a matter of time before someone spotted you both in Ristorante Six or an empty hallway in RAD.

Ignoring them was the better option, however. No words sounded aggressive and yet polite enough to get the witch to shut up without making a scene. Plus, Lucifer was looking exquisitely fine that night. His wings did wonders to his appearance.

"Then who?" the voices asked while you walked away towards your boyfriend.

"Well, I wasn't supposed to say anything..."

Oh no she did not.

"But we're just so in love"

I'll be damned, you thought. She did.

The wrath you felt was primal and it provoked a worried glance from Satan, who was chatting with one of his many contacts in the other side of the ballroom.

You wanted to make an entrance, a dramatic one, but you could only watch as the witch talked and talked about her supposed first date with Lucifer, their first kiss, their first time, his performance in bed (which... No. She was so wrong about that one).

Finally, you opened your mouth.

"You don't say?"

But that wasn't your voice.

Beside you stood Lucifer in all his glory, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes and a hand hugging your waist. The floor trembled under your feet as he walked and, if it wasn't for his tight grip, the magic induced vertigo would've send you to the ground.

You could tell he was trying not to harm you too much, but the group in the balcony wasn't so lucky. All of them were on their knees and some even coughing blood.

"Do tell all your stories tonight, by dawn you'll have no tongue to keep lying"

The witch had tears in her eyes, too focused on her own pain to be aware of her surroundings or his words. Was he being serious? You wanted to ask what would really happen to that woman, but Lucifer was always two steps ahead.

He cradled your face and kissed you, slowly yet firm. His cold skin felt good against yours, already blushing under his half lidded eyes.

"Dance with me?" he asked, caressing your bottom lip with his thumb.

Damn, did he know how to distract you.

Mammon

"You're dating the Great Mammon!" he'd said with his characteristic smile, both of you eating ramen in your bed while watching bad romcoms "That's something to be stoked about! You need to tell everyone about it!"

Of course, that translated to: please, please, please, I need people to know that I bagged YOU and YOU chose ME.

So, there you were, chatting with his makeup stylist and some other models while he posed in front of the camera. It was better than you expected, actually. You thought the fashion world in the Devildom would be full of self righteous assholes and insufferable divas, but you couldn't be more wrong.

Well, of course, there's always an exception.

There was a demoness in the other side of the studio, taking selfies with a pout in her lips and a fake, nauseating, innocence in her expression. She looked toxic from a mile away.

And yet, your boyfriend dated her for three months; three long and excruciating months, yes, but still. They'd dated.

And you were cool with that. So so cool with that. You were chill. A freezer, even. You loved Mammon and everyone and their mother could tell Mammon loved you. Everything was fine.

Except... well...

It was easy to forget the brothers were famous and popular bachelors, princes of hell, that, just like in every human monarchy, had fans to spare. People that would support them no matter what they did and no matter who they dated and people that would hate everyone they dated because... You don't really know why.

You just had some haters.

And this bitch was taking advantage of this, you knew it in your heart.

Rumors of Mammon cheating on you with one of his model coworkers had been there since the beginning of your relationship. It was something you just had to live with, one of the reasons the Avatar of Greed doted on you with everything he had.

Mammon loved you.

So why did you panick so much when he stood up in the underwear he was advertising, getting ready for the next picture, and the demoness took a selfie of her lips with his half naked body behind her?

"That whore" whispered another model behind you. You liked them.

But it was okay, you didn't mind. No, really. You didn't.

Except you did.

And so did Mammon.

"Oi!"

Everyone looked at him and you could swear his demon form was starting to show, blending with his siluette in blurred edges.

"Delete that"

She could've laughed at him, like everyone tended to do. She could've ignored him and tempt fate, but it was not a wise idea.

There was static in the air, black mist barely clouding your vision and a faint voice whispering in the back of your brain. The sound of feathers filled the room and soon crows started to surround the studio outside the window.

After a couple of sickening minutes, a loud pop settled the place back to normal and caused the birds to fly away.

The demoness gasped, letting her DDD fall to the ground like it burned her. Looking at her smoking hands, it probably did.

After that, everyone acted like nothing happened. You, however? Your whole body was buzzing, leaving you paralyzed with feelings you needed to explore in the future and making Mammon look at you with a knowing smile.

"...sick of those rumors..." he'd say hours later while he washed your hair in the shower "and you dumbass humans believe everything you see, even if it's stupid"

He'd wait until you were both in bed, ruminating about every little thing that happened back there before talking again.

"Because it's stupid, you know? I'd never cheat on ya. The Great Mammon would never do that to you. I mean, I'd never to that anyway, but specially not to you. Keep that in mind, human! You catched the best demon of all hell! Lucky you!"

Lucky me, he wanted to say instead.

You understood him anyways.

Leviathan

@/f3istyk1ttenuwu sent you a message!

.

.

You stared at the screen and the screen stared back at you.

Reading the user name physically hurt you and you'd lie if you said you weren't worried about it. Did you trust Levi? Yes, absolutely. Did you trust f3istyk1ttenuwu? Not really, no.

So (this time voluntarily), you opened the gates of hell.

It was the Devildom version of Discord, which was worrying enough, and the user's pfp showed a cute pinked hair girl with dainty horns and half of her boobs out.

With a frown and your heartbeat in your throat, you opened the chatroom.

@/f3istyk1ttenuwu: r u lone?

@/f3istyk1ttenuwu: did ur frend leef?

@/f3istyk1ttenuwu: their a party pooper

@/f3istyk1ttenuwu: didnt let u join the grp

@/f3istyk1ttenuwu: :(

@/f3istyk1ttenuwu: leviachsn?

.

Oh, heeeeell no.

First of all, it was leviachAn. Second, YOU were the only one who could call him THAT.

Ignoring the voice of reason, you checked the door before investigating the previous messages. Levi was in your room, retrieving your nightwear as punishment for not letting you win in Devil Kart YET AGAIN, so, knowing how flustered he got everytime he saw you in the Ruri Chan's inspired piyamas he got you for your birthday, you were sure you had another couple of minutes alone in his room.

@/f3istyk1ttenuwu: thx 4 sving me !!

@/f3istyk1ttenuwu: we shld team more

@/f3istyk1ttenuwu: were zo good 2gether

wEre Zo gOoD 2gETheR

You couldn't help but mock her in the privacy of your mind. Did she think writing like a 10 year old was attractive? If so, what the fuck?

@/f3istyk1ttenuwu: call? brke my pc & cn't fix it alone \(-o-)/

"Call a fucking tech" you whispered to yourself.

"Henry?"

Fuck.

You turned around like a deer in headlights. Levi's cheeks still wore a furious red, but he remained quiet at the door when he saw you snooping through his private conversations.

Fuck it, you thought after some uncomfortable seconds. If someone could understand jealousy, it would be him.

"Who's this girl?"

Levi frowned and got closer to you, leaning over your shoulder to see his computer, probably giving you the closeness he'd crave if he was in your place.

"Oh, I don't know" his final answer disappointed you "Some girl the others wanted in the party"

But why was she talking to him like that?

"And why is she talking to you like that?"

He shrugged his shoulders, knowing that both of you knew the answer. Then, he straightened like he had an epiphany, and looked at you with shining eyes and a smile too big for his face.

"Are you jealous, MC?"

Levi jumped in happiness before you could say anything, unable to truly express how happy he was upon his sin affecting you.

"My Henry is jealous!! Because of a yucky disgusting otaku like me!! This reminds me of that anime: 'Help?! My crush snooped through my pc and now they're jealous because someone else is flirting with me??'"

It was obvious by now you had nothing to worry about, so you let him be. You let him appreciate how much you loved him.

In the end, you had to shower his face in kisses to shut him up and, for great measure, you also changed into that extra large Ruri Chan t-shirt in front of him.

Hours later, both of you were sweating in the comfort of his bathtub and Levi was completely sure you fell asleep.

And if you saw how he offered himself to fix this girl's computer only to hack her camera and post her real face all around the internet, no you didn't.

Tagging them lovely people: @hello-gloomy @the-sassiest-toaster @hero-nii-blog @yourlocalyin

Hope you like it!

[ozzgin]

Santa baby are you really there?!

*hears a voice in my backyard*

FUCK SKIN WALKER

- you make Yan skinwalker i’ll do anything to get a skin walker to love me … yes I am 100% mentally stable

I'm not sure if you had something horror-esque in mind, because my immediate idea was Reader accidentally getting cursed and continuing her life completely unaware with a ""dog"" everyone is freaked out by, but she finds it cute. So more like dark comedy vibes. You be the judge. :D

Disclaimer: I have changed the name to Shapeshifter as to not delve into potentially offensive takes on native folklore. Thank you for informing my European ass.

Yandere!Monster x Reader [Shapeshifter]

On your last hiking trip, you've stumbled upon a helpless, lost dog. Or rather, it stalked you down to your cabin and spent the night in front of your window. You didn't have the heart to abandon the poor soul and so you brought it home with you. Strange things have been happening ever since and no one knows how to tell you that the monstrous coyote-like creature might be to blame. You're oblivious to everything.

Content: female reader, dark comedy, monster romance, reader is cursed and proud

It wasn't your intention to return home with a new pet. Some might say it was written in the stars, this fateful encounter of yours. You had finished packing your supplies for a day-long hike, vehemently refusing to join your group of friends that would be guided around by a native. They’d warned you many areas of the mountainous forest were supposedly cursed or haunted, so you just scribbled the limits on your makeshift map and promised to stay on the main trails. After all, this was your chance to commune with nature. As the sun begun to set, you wondered if going by yourself was indeed a smart idea, given your lack of spatial awareness and difficulty to navigate maps. You flipped the piece of paper several times, deep in contemplation. Could it be that you’ve reached the forbidden lands? You quickly surveyed the area: based on the stuffed rag dolls hanging from old branches, and the animal skulls arranged in patterns among patches of burnt grass, it was very much a possibility. Perhaps the improvised slab that said “Stay away” in dripping crimson letters should’ve been enough of a warning, but you assumed they’d just been creative with trail markers.

You didn’t have the time to panic. Just as you were furrowing your eyebrows in a final attempt to decipher the map (at the time upside-down), your ears picked up a faint shuffle of leaves. Further away stood a dog, its glossy eyes fixated on your form. A lost puppy? It seemed to be on the larger side, but then again some breeds grow rather fast. You lowered yourself and patted your knees, whispering diminutives in an effort to call the animal over. It remained in place, staring quietly. Alright, then. You focused on finding your way back instead. Every now and then you'd turn back and see the dog, motionlessly eyeing you at a constant distance. Oh, dear. Was it lost? Frightening affair.

Back at the cabin you told the others about your discovery, with a hint of worry in your voice. You hoped the little pup had found proper shelter. You'd expected a similar reaction coming from your friends, but one of them suggested: "What if it was some shapeshifting monster? There's many legends and stories from the area." Everyone laughed and you joined hesitantly, mildly annoyed by the lack of empathy. That night you barely slept, twisting and turning under the heavy feeling of being watched. You woke up tired and nervous, dragging your feet towards the window for some fresh air. That's when you saw the same forest creature, fully awake and tall in its glory, positioned before your room. This was no coincidence. You had been plagued by the guilt of abandoning a vulnerable quadruped and you weren't about to continue as a passive observer. You strode out without a word and lifted the large dog with a huff, carrying it back in to figure out the transport logistics.

Thus started the unexpected companionship. To you, it's a lovely tale of two lost souls finding one another. Most people seem to disagree. Can you blame them? The rescued puppy you often speak of is, in the eyes of everyone else, a monstrous beast by all definitions. It resembles a coyote more than a dog, but even this description is too gentle. The fur is always raised threateningly and the protruding clusters of fangs remind one of the anatomical anomalies displayed in museums. The eyes, oh, the worst of all perhaps, bottomless depths that pull you in until you run out of air. The creature stares with the all-knowing gaze of a human. "Don't be rude", you snap at whoever dares to point these details out. "It must be a mixed breed or something."

Their persistence is truly ridiculous. You've even had guests run out in panic, claiming the dog stood on its back legs and whispered in a language unknown. Or that its shadow would morph into a grotesque man with claws and crooked antlers. Or that they've found it hunched over your sleeping form, its spine twisted outwards with jagged peaks breaking through the wild fur. Rubbish, all of it.

Strange things have been happening, no doubt, but your adopted fur-child has no blame to carry. You've been trying to distract yourself, going on dates and occasionally bringing potential suitors over. They all vanish overnight, nonchalantly leaving an empty, ruffled bed for you to wake up to. "Am I just unlucky?" You sigh, running your fingers through the coarse fur of your dog. It lowers itself under your touch, visibly enjoying the affection. For a split second, it glances out the window. By the time you come out of your depressed slump, the birds should've finished feeding on the remains. He made sure to tear and grind everything fine enough to not leave any marks behind.

That's how curses work, after all. He didn't expect, however, that you'd be utterly unaware of it. He has to give you the credit, not many people become stalked by an ancient curse and continue their life in blissful ignorance. Even more, for them to just casually pick up the haunting entity and bring it inside their home willingly...You're, uh, certainly a special one. Hence the change of plans. He was supposed to torment you into an early grave, but he's grown rather attached to your bizarre antics. And you do provide some damn good chin scratches. He's therefore satisfied with causing anguish and destruction to anything and anyone in your immediate vicinity instead. Since you've been complaining about the resulting isolation...

You wake up with a gasp, wiping your drenched forehead and checking the sheets. The dog is curled next to you, although its head is now tilted in your direction. "O-oh. It might be the loneliness talking...but I had the strangest dream." How troubling and embarrassing. Your beloved pet had turned into a deformed, monstrous man instead, pinning you down and hungrily grazing your skin with his sharp teeth. Your fearful protests eventually turned into shameless moans, your frail body at the mercy of the mysterious beast. It unfolded so vividly that your core feels sore. You stretch a sheepish hand towards your pet and abruptly stop halfway, noticing the marks diffused into your wrist, like violet smudges of watercolor. What the hell did you do last night?

The dog buries its head under the sheets and nuzzles its snout into your soft flesh. Heh. How many more disappearing guests will be needed for you to figure out your situation? He does find your obliviousness terribly amusing, as well as your willingness to clutch onto him despite his unsightly appearance. He was feeling particularly cheeky and thought of giving you a little scare, only to be once again taken aback by your neediness. He has to wonder who exactly is trapped in this situation, because your reactions to everything he does are frighteningly tempting. Maybe tonight he'll finally let you know, just as you're about to come undone beneath his heaving body. Something like, hmmm. "By the way, love, this isn't a dream." He could even add a little "woof" to tease you more.

[earthtooz]

in which: a moment of impulsivity has ratio knocking on your door at 3 am with a grand confession.

There is a great cloud of curiosity that surrounds Dr. Ratio.

His intelligence is far beyond the average person’s comprehension, mind working at insurmountable speeds to reach conclusions and answers that no others have come to before. Mediocrity and Ratio could never stand to be in the same room, intelligence and reputation as an academic preceding him.

When people find out that you have been in a long-term relationship with the scholar, you can almost see the question mark above their heads. How did you meet? When did you start dating? How did you start dating? How do you put up with him? (You always answer that with ‘I’m still trying to find out myself’. He always rolls his eyes when you say that, but it’s nothing a kiss to the cheek can’t solve.) 

Only your closest friends know the story of how you started dating, but it’s always one you love recounting, much to the dismay of Veritas. 

For the decades that he has lived for, there have been few moments he regrets, always critically scrutinising every move six steps before he makes them. No one has ever seen him messy, uncertain, or dishevelled- except you. 

Towards the end of your university years, with an urgent final assignment due soon, you’re rudely awoken one night by frantic knocks on your dorm’s door. You notice the clock reads 3 am, and since the knocks only got louder by the second, you throw your covers off with a groan.

Who could be at your door at 3 am? Perhaps a drunk dormmate who forgot their keys? Or someone knocking thinking it was their room?

Looking through the peephole, you’re stunned to see a certain violet-haired friend on the other side, trouble etched deeply into his features. His hair was messy, falling haphazardly around his face, and his usual accessory of a laurel wreath was discarded, flamboyant outfit discarded for something more comfortable. 

It’s clear that he’s troubled by something, but you have half a mind to leave him outside until he goes away (that’s what he’d do to you, or so you think).

Opening the door, you begin by scolding him. “You better have a good reason to show up at this godforsaken time or otherwise-”

“-I’m in love with you.” 

Perhaps if it were a normal hour of the day, and if you hadn’t just been rudely awaken from your sleep, you would have processed his words faster. Instead, you blink at him once, twice, three times, fatigue weighing heavily on your features as you struggled to keep your eyes open. 

“What?” You murmur, shaking your head as if that would clear up the mental blockage.

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, firmer this time. 

You grab his wrist and drag him inside your dorm, blinded by the harshness of the hallway lights illuminating the outline of his figure. Turning on the softer light on your desk, you take a seat on the edge of your bed, gazing down at your hands. Veritas, however, stays near your door, annoyingly muscular arms flexed over his chest.

“I have so many questions,” you grumble, rubbing your eyes. “Why are you awake? You’re always asleep by 11 to get your ass up at 6 to exercise, or whatever.” 

“Are you avoiding the main point, or just stupid?” He grabs you by the shoulders and shakes. “I love you.” 

“Excuse me! You were banging bullets on my dorm room, I’m disorientated right now, not stupid- what?”

It’s almost like his statement from earlier only pierces through your brain now with the way you freeze, eyes morphing into something akin to disbelief and shock. He sees all the changes in your expression in the dimness of the room, nervously biting his cheek with every subtle shift.

“Did… I hear that right?” You whisper after what feels like an eternity. “You love me?”

He nods. “For a few years now.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Am I not doing so in this very moment?” 

Tonight has been nothing but agitating for him. First, he was kept awake by the pounding of his heart and the burning desire to see you, significantly delaying his sleep until Veritas decided to cast all caution into the wind, running to your dorm all the way on the other side of the University. Now, he is trying to pour his heart onto your hands, all because of a moment of impulsivity and bull-headed stubbornness, and a secret he cannot keep to himself any longer.

He may be stubborn (as are all geniuses), but Veritas is never impulsive. All truths will come to light eventually, no matter how hard he tries to hide them. 

“While I accept that my feelings may not be reciprocated, can you at least say something rather than stare at me blankly?” There’s an unfamiliar look of concern in his eyes, contrasting the usual pride and arrogance he always wears.

What happened to the Veritas Ratio you know? Who is this man by your feet?

“No- that’s not. I… I love you too, I have for a while now, but everything about this is… just… unbelievable.”

“Why?” 

“You’re aeons out of my league, Veritas. I never once considered you would return my feelings.”

He stifles back a laugh, dropping his large hands off your shoulders and clutching the mattress on either side of you. You won’t forget about the way the sheets crumple beneath his grip, or the way his head hangs, bangs tickling your legs.

Bravely, you raise a hand to his hair, running through it. Seemed like he could use the comfort.

“You make me too damn nervous,” he breathes, a hand coming to clutch at his chest. 

“Never thought I’d live to see the day you admit you get nervous.” 

“Why’s that?”

“The only thing bigger than your brain is your ego.”

His confession, and everything about that night, was unorthodox, never predicting that you’d end the day curled up next to Veritas, or the long relationship that would follow.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 3] Wedding Night

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Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, Mentions of Cannibalism, Smut, Slight Dub-Con, Virginity Loss, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Masturbation, Creampie, Slight Breeding Kink

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

You swore that on the day of your wedding, you’d be the happiest woman alive. Being born a mere peasant and in a happy family gave you the option of marrying for love. But things change in the blink of an eye.

Neither of you really have families to do most of the wedding ceremony traditions, which cuts the wedding short. He has no interest in any of it, and you don’t feel any sort of joy while you commit yourself to one another. Perhaps you feel a twinge of satisfaction when you receive the title of Sukuna’s wife. 

If you die today, at least you won’t die as a nobody.

After the ceremony, he sends you away to your room. You’re not allowed to do anything even when you hold the title of his wife, at least not when your whims contradict his wishes. Therefore you’re left to sit in silence in your room, and you have no idea for how long you’ll be left in this state. He’ll visit you at night to get what he wants, and you still have a long way to go.

You’re staring off into space, your mind playing a filthy scene of how this will play out. He’s not going to be patient nor gentle, he definitely isn’t the kind. He’s going to fulfill his task and leave you seeking for pleasure once he’s finished. You aren’t expecting anything else, from what you’ve heard, men are selfish lovers. Though Sukuna isn’t exactly a man, you’re sure it applies to him.

“King Sukuna ordered for lady Kyoko to join you.” Uraume informs you before opening the door and letting the woman walk inside, not waiting for your response. She holds her head high when she walks into the room, wearing similar attirement as you. The servants don’t dare to look you in the eye anymore, the news that you’re the wife of Sukuna has spread, and they won’t dare test your authority.

Yet this woman isn’t scared of looking you in the eye, that’s all you need to know.  You have the authority of telling her to look down, but you have yet to find the voice.

“And who are you supposed to be exactly?” You ask her, wanting the confirmation that she’s been intimate with him before jumping to conclusions. There’s a hint of a smirk on her face, an aura of superiority around her. She sits directly across from you.

“One of King Sukuna’s dearest companions.” She sounds cocky, which gives you every answer that you need to know. “He told me to prepare you for tonight.”

“Right, of course.” You nod, feeling your face get warm. The cockiness goes away, and she gets serious as she begins to speak about Sukuna. She’s been ordered to tell you all you need to know for your first night with him, even though she clearly doesn’t want to speak about this.

You only hear about how to please him. You hear about everything you need to do to satisfy Sukuna, and how to handle two of them. You pick up on the jealousy as she explains everything, and it’s hard to ignore the way she glares at you.

You’re taking in every detail about her. She wears the makeup Sukuna expected you to wear last night: white powder, and red beni on her lips. The same makeup look that Uraume said made you look like a fool. 

“It’s not that hard, anyway.” She finishes. She’s staring you down, her eyes feel like they can burn a hole into you. Her gaze feels cold and nasty. “Though you don’t look like you can handle it.”

“I don’t think so either.” You don’t want to begin bickering and get on anyone’s bad side, even if you’re already her mortal enemy. You can’t lay it on thick. You look down at the ground, as if you were too ashamed to say it, “I’m not sure why he would pick me to carry his heir… Why didn’t Sukuna pick you, his dearest companion?”

“Sukuna? You dare call your king, Sukuna!” She yells, not really caring about anything else that has left your mouth. You dare call Sukuna merely by his name when you’re just a lowly human. “This should get your head rolling on the floor! No one calls King Sukuna simply Sukuna.”

“I understand your confusion… But I’m not just no one, I am his wife.” You correct her, fighting back on smiling as the words leave your lips. “I’m not sure either, we just met yesterday. He arranged a ceremony per my request this morning but it’s all too sudden.”

“His wife.” She scoffs, rising from her seat. A title that you don’t deserve, therefore she won’t acknowledge you as such. She doesn’t say anything else before exiting the room, leaving you to sit in silence once again. You could’ve handled the situation in a different manner, but regardless, you’re satisfied with your course of action.

“You’ll be having dinner with King Sukuna.” Uraume announces before promptly dragging you out of the room and where you’ll dine. You’re met with a long table filled with all kinds of foods, and your stomach growls, a hunger that you didn’t know you had, consuming you. Uraume takes you to the end of the table, the end that’s far away from all the food. “You must wait for him before getting your food.”

“Of course.” You nod in response. Every meal that you’ve been offered so far has been awful, but the food on the table makes your mouth water so perhaps the cooking changes when Sukuna is going to be present. “When will he show up?”

“He should be here soon.” Uraume tells you, before stepping away. The moment they step away, you hear the echo of his loud footsteps as he approaches the dining room.

He walks inside, sitting across from you and not even bothering to spare you a look before digging into the food. He’s taking it all for himself, and you’re too scared to even stretch your hand out. You’re too shy to ask for any food, but thankfully, you’re brought your own separate meal.

Your appetite dies down the moment your eyes look down at it… It’s very different from Sukuna’s. Either different people cooked your food or there was no effort put into yours. You try not to judge the food by its appearance, and take your first bite. You nearly gag when the food touches your tongue, but you try to remain polite and force yourself to chew then swallow.

“Is the food not to your liking? It looks like you’re being forced to swallow shit.” Sukuna speaks up, and you look at your plate in shame. 

“It’s bad.” You answer. He yells for the servants, and within seconds a group is gathered right before him. They’re on their knees, eyes staring at the floor in front of them, not daring to look up at him.

“Remake her food, and make it right this time.” He orders, and they respond in unison. The same response that Sukuna gets every time he speaks: Yes, king. Sukuna glances at you before glancing at the people that kneel before him. “Bring out the person that made the food.”

“What are you going to do to them?” You chime in, but you’re ignored. Your word doesn’t seem to matter when you’re speaking to Sukuna. He knows why you ask, and he doesn’t care enough. You’re bound to see some bloodshed eventually, you better start getting used to it.

“Uraume made the food.” He’s informed, and his opinion changes. He retracts his former statement, simply ordering that someone else makes it to your liking. He dismisses them, and continues to eat his food.

“Does Uraume make your meals?” You ask him, your question falling on deaf ears. It’s a situation where you speak when you’re spoken to, and he didn’t speak to you first.

“Kyoko came running to me, yelling how you disrespected me.” He brings up, and you raise your brows. Suddenly you begin to feel sweaty, nerves consuming you. “What did you exactly say about me?”

“I called you Sukuna instead of formally addressing you.” You confess, and you begin to think over and over again of how to begin your apology. But you know that an apology won’t be well received, so instead of saying anything else you look down at the table in complete and utter shame. “Which should be fine, no? We just got married.”

“It is fine.” He reassures you. “You have the power to be harsh. Don’t embarrass me.”

“Embarass you how?” You question. “Were you listening?”

“Don’t try to get under her skin, words won’t shed blood.” He ignores the question. “If someone dares disrespect you, you must make them pay.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to hurt your dearest companion.” You answer, and he scoffs. It’s clear that she thinks highly of herself when Sukuna couldn’t really care less about her.

“You said it yourself, I picked you instead of her.” He responds. “She’s not so dear to me if I chose a woman I just met over her.”

“Right… I’ll make her pay next time.” You nod your head, but you’re not going to do it. You aren’t going to make anyone shed blood because you aren’t like him. 

You hear your stomach growl as Sukuna continues to eat, and you can’t help but ask, “Can I taste?”

“Of course.” He doesn’t even waste a second before stretching his arm out in your direction, holding a bowl full of food. Before your chopsticks touch the food, Uraume comes into the dining room and speaks up,

“He’s a cannibal.” Which makes you freeze in your spot. You retract your hand, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. It now makes sense why he has a whole separate meal, and why his meal seems so tasty even if it’s made by the same person that cooks your food. It should be a more shocking confession, but you’re not surprised at all.

“Why’d you ruin my fun!” He yells, though he sounds more annoyed than angry. He’s ignored by Uraume, truly the only person who has that power. Instead of listening to him, they put your new plate of food in front of you.

“I’m so sorry the food wasn’t to your liking, my queen.” Uraume bows down before you, and you’re taken back by it. You’re not sure how to respond, it isn’t anything that warrants an apology in your eyes. “I didn’t make the meal, another servant did.”

“Bring them in.” Sukuna orders, and Uraume rises from the ground. They walk away and you’re about to dig into your new meal, but his voice stops you. “Don’t you dare.”

“It looks fine.” You answer. The food actually looks appetizing, and your hunger grows by the second. But he refuses to give you permission, and you won’t dare defy him. “Can I have just a taste? I’m hungry.”

He ignores you, tapping his finger on the table impatiently. Uraume finally walks back inside, dragging the woman that cooked your meal by her kimono.

“It was her.” Uraume speaks, as the woman bows down on the floor, not daring to raise her head. Sukuna lifts her up by the collar, while one of his hands reaches for your food. He forces her mouth open and stuffs her mouth.

“Chew.” He orders, and she’s trembling in fear. She forces herself to chew, too slow for his liking. “Hurry up and swallow.”

Once she swallows the food in her mouth, he tosses her aside and puts the plate right back in front of you. He stares at the woman for a minute before he finally asks, “Do you think that’s good enough for her to eat?”

“Yes, my king.” She almost hesitates, but she knows that hesitating won’t do her any good.

“You may eat.” He directs his attention to you, and you nod in response. You feel nervous for the woman that kneels before you. She’s around your age, probably here for similar reasons as you, and her life hangs by a thread. Even if you hate the food that’s in front of you, you’ll put on a smile and pretend that it’s the best meal you’ve ever eaten.

Luckily, you don’t have to fake anything because the food that touches your tongue is one of the best things that you’ve tasted. You tell him with a mouthful of food, “It’s so good.”

“Then she’ll be your servant.” Sukuna responds before standing up and walking away. Uraume follows, leaving you to look at her in confusion, though she doesn’t dare to lift her head. What exactly does that entail?

“What’s your name?” You ask her.

“Hina.”

“You can lift your head, Hina. I don’t bite. I’m not Sukuna.” You can’t help but chuckle. She slowly lifts her head, and she finally gets a good look at you. Her cheeks slowly get pink as she stares at you, and she averts her gaze. “Please keep me company, I’ve been dying to have a conversation with someone normal.”

You wait in your room the same way you did last night. Uraume got you ready again, changing your attire into something more fresh and with less layers. They realized that putting you in traditional attire is just going to be a waste of time and resources since they doubt that Sukuna will be gentle with the robes.

You feel more comfortable this time around, feeling like you can finally breathe. You’re ready for what awaits tonight. Kyoko wasn’t the nicest woman, but she explained everything well enough. You had an idea of what was waiting for you, but now you exactly know what the night has in store for you.

You hear the sound of his loud footsteps, and you feel your nerves building up. This time around you don’t tremble in fear. You take a deep breath to calm yourself before he gets to you. She told you it’d be quick, and while at first it’s going to be uncomfortable, what’s to come will also leave you craving for more.

He enters the room, eyes immediately glancing down at you. You rise, remembering what she told you: First, you must help him get undressed. But before your hand touches the fabric of his robe, his hand stops you. 

The simple touch awakens something in you. Your hand tries to break free from his grasp, but it won’t move. A new feeling consumes you, and the thought of feeling Sukuna in every sense doesn’t make you tremble– Quite the opposite, you want it. You want everything he has to offer.

You’re looking up at him, studying each and every one of his features. He looks unusual, though that doesn’t mean he looks bad. He’s handsome in his own way, at least more handsome than the many men that you’ve come across with.

“There’s no reason for you to be in a rush.” He tells you. No matter how hard you try to break free from his grasp, he can hold back all of your strength without breaking a sweat. “I’m not running away.”

His hand goes under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He’s smirking at you, knowing he’s about to ruin you. Two hands are trying to take off your robe, which isn’t a hard task but he grows impatient. You’re hearing the fabric rip, realizing that he’s getting straight to the point.

“Can you kiss me?” Your words make him freeze in his spot. It feels pathetic to say but if you don’t ask, he won’t do it. He rolls his eyes before leaning down and pecking your lips, pulling away quickly. He continues to tear down the fabric of your robe, until it’s on the floor. 

He saw you naked yesterday while you bathed, but you still can’t help but feel shy when you’re completely bare in front of him. You don’t have enough hands to cover yourself, and even if you tried, he’d tear them away. There’s no reason for you to feel shy, after all, he isn’t going to inspect your body and look for any flaws it might have. He gets straight to the point.

He lowers his head, lips kissing down your neck to your breasts. His lips feel tender on your skin, a sensation that you would have never imagined to come from Sukuna. A chill runs down your spine as you feel his tongue circle around your nipple. You weren’t warned about it, but you aren’t unhappy either.

You squeeze your legs together, an increasing sensation between them with each of his movements. His warm mouth takes in your nipple, harshly sucking as his hand fondles your other breast. He pinches your other nipple harshly, making a whine escape your lips.

Sukuna bites down before pulling away. He kisses the valley of your breasts before his tongue swipes over your neglected breast. Your mind focuses on how his tongue feels on your skin, that you almost miss one of his hands traveling down your stomach and to your pussy.

A breathy moan leaves your throat, your body getting overwhelmed with what he’s doing. You were expecting a lot tonight, just not this. Two very large fingers spread your folds, and as a reaction, your legs squeeze together. You swear you hear a low chuckle from him before he bites down your nipple once again. This time your whine is much louder.

“I’m going to have fun with you.” He’s amused with this. He nearly drops you to the ground, but luckily he puts his hand under your head before it touches the floor. He gets on his knees while his hands go to your legs, nails digging into your thighs. 

He puts your legs over his shoulders, and you hold your breath, knowing what’s to come. You expect him to take off his robe, and finally do what you’re expecting him to do. You’re clenching around nothing, your excitement radiating through your body. He doesn’t make an effort to get undressed though. 

“No one’s ever touched you here before, right?” He sounds cocky as two fingers run through the folds of your pussy. You bite down your lip before shaking your head, making a smug smile come to his face. He’s proud of it. “No one else will either.”

Sukuna has never been one to care for virginity or purity of any sorts when it comes to sleeping with other people– With you it’s different. He picked you for your innocence, and getting the chance to ruin you in every sense is thrilling for him. Knowing that he’s going to be your first and your last lover fulfills him.

“What–” You begin when he begins to lower his head, though you’re cut off by a breathy moan that leaves your lips as his tongue runs through your pussy. His tongue lays flat on your clit, and you feel your breath get caught up in your chest as an unfamiliar feeling overtakes your whole body.

His tongue flicks your clit, and your back arches, shutting your eyes as pleasure overtakes you. He’s yet to do anything, yet your mind is clouded with sex. Is this what you were worried about? You can’t help but mutter, “That’s so good.”

“Be loud.” He orders, pulling away from your pussy. His fingers take the place of his tongue, lazily circling your clit with little to no pressure. 

“What if someone hears?” You question, and he scoffs. He’s never heard a dumber question.

“What? That you’re my woman?” He responds, and you feel your face get even hotter than it already is. You talk as if Sukuna doesn’t control everything and everyone that resides in the place, he couldn’t care less if they hear what he does. “If it embarrasses you, I’ll kill them.”

“No– Ah!” His mouth goes back down, his warm lips going straight to your clit and sucking on it. You feel as two fingers run through your folds, gathering the slick that your body has produced, before he pushes his middle finger into you. 

It’s an uncomfortable new feeling, even if his whole finger isn’t inside of you. He’s kind enough to give you a moment before slowly piping his finger in and out of you. His head rises from between your legs and he tells you, “Relax.”

“Can you put your mouth there again?” You quickly ask, and just this once, he’ll please you. His tongue messily runs through your pussy before focusing on your clit once again, using the opportunity to push a second finger into your cunt. 

He curves his fingers in a manner that makes a loud moan escape your lips. You can’t hold yourself back when Sukuna worships your body. You were expecting the night to head in a very different direction with your given knowledge, but you couldn’t be more happy to be proven wrong.

“Sukuna!” You moan, as pressure builds up in your lower abdomen. He takes his fingers out of your pussy, leaving them to clench around nothing but within seconds his tongue moves down to your entrance and he pushes it in. You feel his tongue move around, while his thumb begins to play with your clit. 

You look at him through heavy lids, your eyes shutting on their own as pleasure consumes you. He’s too focused on doing his task correctly to actually spare you a glance. You’d say that he’s enjoying this more than you are, but you quickly stop that train of thought. Sukuna isn’t the type to enjoy satisfying others.

Your voice gets caught up in your throat, your body becoming tense and your back arching as you reach the high that you’ve been told about– They always told you that you’d know when it would happen, and you never believed it. It’s an unmistakable feeling.

And just as you come down from that feeling, you realize that you’re getting to the part that you’ve been anticipating.

Your legs come off his shoulders, and Sukuna undoes his robe with such gentleness that your outfit sadly wasn’t met with. You swallow thickly, seeing his full body on display. You don’t consider yourself a greedy woman, but seeing him completely naked makes you want more. 

You need more. 

“Is it going to fit?” You can’t help but ask as your eyes land on the two dicks. One stacked on top of the other. They aren’t exactly small either.

“We’ll make it fit.” He says without thinking twice about it, and your thighs squeeze together. His palm goes to the front of your face and tells you, “Spit on it.”

You don’t have to be told twice before spitting on his hand. He uses your spit to coat his cocks before grabbing your legs, and wrapping them around his waist. Even when you see what awaits you, your desire and hunger for him grows. 

He takes his bottom cock into his hand, stroking it a couple of times before running it through your folds. You watch him bite down his lip as he slowly pushes himself inside of you. A whine leaves your lips, feeling uncomfortable as his cock stretches you out.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He says, waiting a second before he begins to thrust in and out of you. His eyes are nearly rolling to the back of his head, feeling too good as he feels you around him for the first time. He manages to remain stoic, as if this isn’t one of the best sensations that his body has felt in ages.

She was right, it is weird your first time, especially with how big Sukuna is. You’re too focused on this new feeling to allow yourself to feel any pleasure. But you’re sure of one thing, you’ll definitely be wanting more. With the way he’s made your body feel, you’ll definitely be begging him for more.

You watch as one of his hands begins to stroke the top dick, fulfilling his needs since he can’t expect much from you tonight.

“Sukuna…” You mutter, and you hear him groan as you say his name. You know he likes it.

“Say it again.” Sukuna is getting off at you saying his name. You feel a pair of fingers toying with your clit, and you feel that sensation once again. Your back arches, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as it consumes you.

“Fuck!” You loudly moan, instead of saying his name per his request. While he’s strict about people following his orders, he’ll let it slide this one time. He’s too lost in you to care about anything else.

“I’m going to fill you up with my child.” He tells you as his thrusts speed up. You’re squeezing even more around his cock, your second orgasm building up and washing over you quickly. “You’re going to give me my heir.”

He’s getting a little too rough for you, his thrusts becoming harsher by the second until he finally fills you with his seed. He gets you messy, his top cock making a mess and coating your stomach. He finally pulls out, leaving you empty. 

He’s taking deep breaths as he grabs your legs, bending your knees and bringing them to your chest. You’re too overwhelmed to say anything, and you know he isn’t one of many words.

He grabs his robe and puts it on once again, while you remain in the position he put you in. He doesn’t tell you anything until he’s finally dressed, practically out of the door,

“I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

[1d1195]

Hummingbirds

~5.2k words

From me: Based on a song of the same name--you'll see the lyrics in a moment. You'll need to suspend your belief a bit. I'm not sure everything makes perfect sense, but. Some of this story takes place through emailing and I didn't have a good method for this. So bold will be Harry's emails. Pink writing will be hers.

Warnings: angst, fluff, anger honestly just fluffy. second chance love

Summary: Harry has been angry for a really really long time. Only one person ever made him confront his anger.

“Eli, baby, we have to go!”

Harry could hear her from outside. He smirked, sipping his tea while he waited for Buddy to do his business. The air was crisp just like October should be. Decorative spider webs lined the front porch and the flower bushes in front of it. He was utterly pleased with his life. So completely happy.

“Mommy! I can’t find my dinosaur sneakers!”

“I don’t know how to spell it,” Evie frowned. “I’m going to fail!”

“Just do your best and practice, my love. I believe in you,” she assured as she zipped her backpack up at the doorway and stuffed her feet into the slip-on sneakers by the door. They make me feel old, she told Harry. They’re the perfect shoes for a busy Mum, he assured her. And I think y’look hot wearing them.

“Eli, honey!” She called back. “They’re here by the front door!”

Harry couldn’t stop smiling. “How lucky am I, Buddy?” He asked shaking the leash slightly. The dog turned to him and then tugged him around the yard looking for the right spot; totally unaware or unaffected that Harry had the best life there was to live.

“I-M-P-E-R-U-T-I-V-E.”

“Close, baby girl,” she smiled encouragingly. “It’s an A, not U.”

She looked miserable as she stepped off the porch. Evie approached Harry while his wife bent to help Eli with his sneakers. “I’m going to fail, Daddy.”

He chuckled at the little nine-year-old. Crouched to her height twirling the leash tight around one hand. He straightened her little hair bow on the side of her head, pinning her hair back to one side. He kissed her forehead. “Mummy said y’were close. Y’did a great job. Y’jus’ have t’remember there’s an A,” he reminded her and then pinched her cheek gently. “Like the grade you’re going t’get, right?” He winked at her.

Evie’s sweet eyes lit up with new hope. She turned to the pretty woman at the door holding Eli’s hand to usher him quickly out of the house now that his shoes were securely on his feet. “Mommy! Did you hear what Daddy said to help me remember?”

She grinned so beautifully; it melted him. The center of his chest felt deliriously warm. It felt equivalent to being snuggled under a blanket with her, warm and close while it snowed outside their house. The kids drinking hot chocolate at the coffee table and a movie playing in the background.

It was unbelievable she was all his. “What did Daddy say, Evie?” Eli held onto her hand tight while he jumped from the second to last step of the porch while Evie explained the A she was going to get. “Well, I guess you inherited your smarts from Daddy, hmm?” Which was unequivocally a joke. She was a hundred times smarter than him. Or at least it felt that way. But he loved her so much for never making him feel less than. She was good at that. It was impossible to feel less than in her presence.

She was good at everything. Her job, being a wife, but perhaps his favorite thing, she was a tremendous mother. Something he knew she would be good at, but not to the extent he witnessed on a daily basis. Eli hurried to Harry and Buddy petting the dog’s head and giggling when he licked his face. Harry kissed the top of his head and gave his little body a squeeze. “What smarts?” Harry asked.

She rolled her eyes as she finally approached her family. “You’re plenty smart, baby,” she shook her head with a gentle smile. The two kids that looked like the perfect combination of them went to her car and climbed into their respective seats. Harry wrapped his free arm around her back and pulled her to his side. He kissed her temple, nosing along her hairline.

“Not as smart as m’beautiful wife,” he reminded her. She laughed.

“I love you.” She tilted her head up for a kiss which Harry never let her wait for.

“I love you,” he grinned into the kiss.

“Ew!” Eli called.

“Mommy, let’s go!” Evie was eager to get to school and ace her spelling test.

“Bye Daddy!” Eli shouted. She gave his cheek a final peck and she headed across the yard to take their kids to school. “See you at my soccer game!”

“Hey kitten?” He called.

“Yeah?” She asked over her shoulder.

“M’a lucky man t’have you,” he reminded her.

She shook her head, laughed. “Me too, baby. Luckiest girl in the world to have you.”

The second her door closed behind her a swarm of hummingbirds fluttered so loudly into the yard. Seemingly out of nowhere. The noise of their wings was unbelievable. A dull roar. It was hundreds of the little birds, and she paid no mind to them as she started her car. Buddy didn’t care about the intrusion either. Even the kids were indifferent. “Are y’seeing this?” He called out to her. He blinked curiously when she didn’t respond. “What’s with all the—”

*

I had a dream last night / we were married in that house you always talked about / you were rushing to get the kids to school / packing their lunches, reviewing their spelling words / it was hummingbirds

Harry’s heart was beating like he had just finished a workout. His skin felt clammy. The sheets were wrapped too tightly around his legs. He groaned as his alarm vibrated to the same hum of the birds in his dream. The music playing alongside the vibration made him grumpy. “What the fuck?” He whispered and smacked the song off. He wished he could go right back. Did Evie pass her test? Did Eli score a goal?

Did she still love him the way he dreamed about?

*

Dr. Hendren listened to Harry’s dream but very much already knew the ending. It was the same as all his dreams with the house and the girl that he had been hearing for ten years.

“Harry,” the doctor said gently as he watched Harry on his screen. “Do you know what hummingbirds symbolize?”

“No,” Harry was grumpy. He always was after a dream that was so real so lifelike. It wasn’t fair. He just wanted her back. Wanted to see her. Wanted to know.

“Healing.” Dr. Hendren was quiet while Harry processed that. He worked his jaw, swallowing, and flexing it as he tried to get the words to come out. His body felt tense. Like he was trapped inside a box that was too small. That didn’t seem right. He didn’t feel like he was healed. He was still frustrated most of the time. Work was a minor distraction, and the loneliness was crippling at times. The only reprieve was dreaming of that pretty girl he knew so many years ago.

Why did it have to be her? She didn’t deserve Harry and his bad attitude. She already suffered through it for two years at a time when life should have been fun, lovely, sweet. They were kids and Harry was an ass. He never even said he loved her back then.

“Don’t you think,” Dr. Hendren continued quietly, and Harry knew what he was going to say. “You’ve been quiet long enough about what you want?” He shrugged. “Harry,” he tutted.

“I wasn’t a good boyfriend.”

“You were a kid.”

“She deserved more.”

“Then tell her. Worst case scenario, she doesn’t want to talk to you and you’ll have some closure and you can stop dreaming about it.”

Harry remained silent, looking around his empty apartment. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Alright. I’ll reach out to her.”

“Harry,” Dr. Hendren said quietly. “Have you thought about the best-case scenario?”

He shook his head. Thatkind of hope could kill him. But he knew why the dreams were so powerful these days. Why they were so steady and quick.

Woke up bleeding from my mouth / I bit my tongue right through / well I broke the habit / I guess that I’d had it not saying the things I need to

The following morning, he searched his inbox from an email he hadn’t used in ten years and found the address he never thought he’d email again after he broke up with her way back when.

But Harry wasn’t twenty anymore. He was trying to move on. Trying to fix things that should have been fixed a long time ago. He sat on the couch, typed out seven different versions of the message and clicked send before he could overthink it any longer. He slapped the computer shut and rubbed his hands on his pants. He took a sip of the tea he made hoping to calm himself and told himself that it was okay if she didn’t answer.

Hey. Long time. Not sure if you use this email. I know it’s been a long while. Hope you’re well. ... I’ve been thinking of you. And truthfully, I had a pretty realistic dream that you were in the other night. Nothing weird. Just my old self and back then and... I don’t know. ... How are you?

If she was working, she might just be getting settled. Or maybe out with a friend. Running errands. He refrained from imagining a little family that was waiting on her for dinner but reminded himself anyway that there were a million reasons she—

His phone lit up on the table beside the computer and his heart skipped a beat.

Harry Styles. As I live and breathe :) I’m well! How are you?

That little smiley face made his heart ache with adoration for her. He could picture her pretty face smiling. But she answered.

Good. Yeah. I… I’ve been going to therapy regularly. Finally had to and... my doctor and I have discussed a lot of things. You were one of them. I just... wanted to chat with you. I’m sorry, this is so out of the blue and weird.

No! Not at all, Harry. I’m glad you reached out. It’s really nice to hear from you. Therapy? That’s amazing! Do you like it?

I’m a work in progress.

Aren’t we all? :)

He smiled feeling relieved. Even just reading words on a screen made him feel at ease. He could practically hear her sweet, encouraging voice.

What are you up to? Do you live in state still?

Yes! I actually just moved down the road from the college. I’m a guidance counselor at the local high school.

That’s lovely. I’m not surprised you accomplished your goals. Your students are lucky to have you. Are you doing okay? It has to be draining.

A lot of the time yeah. But it’s rewarding as hell. You know I love kids, and I love being able to help.

Harry wondered if it was possible to love her more than he ever had before.

There’s a shadow on my shoulder / always whispers in my ear / that I’m so angry all of the time / I should be alone another year / I didn’t say it how you needed it / must have written it down a thousand times / all the things I would scream at the top of my lungs / if I wasn’t so busy saying I’m fine.

Harry had a habit of not saying what he was feeling. He bottled so much of it up and hid it from the rest of the world. Even people he loved. When he was dating her back in college, he kept a lot hidden and exploded when she asked him simple questions about himself. Trying to understand him and why he was angry all the time. Her willingness to look past it, try and help, and just continue to be kind to him made him angry too. It was constant, draining. It was like he couldn’t help himself.

There was a tiny voice in his head that told him he was too angry for her. She deserved someone lovely and sweet. Someone who would talk to her and tell her things. Be the person she deserved. Because despite everything, Harry loved love. It was nearly impossible for him to show it back then. But he did. He wanted to love her the way she needed.

But he was so busy being angry and bottling his emotions he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t love her the right way.

It was so unfair to her and looking back on it made him feel like a proper ass.

So, he was grateful for the email communication. He couldn’t imagine having this conversation with her about all this in person. They chatted for days. Catching up on things, reminiscing. Their email chain was up to 100 something messages. Some messages were long. Harry chatted about his family and she about hers. There were updates on work. On friends they still spoke to and no longer did. The conversation continued over the course of a little under a week.

But the most shocking details came from her.

I mentioned I moved... my ex-fiancé broke off our engagement. Don’t feel too bad for me, it’s actually a relief in hindsight. Something I’ve been trying to figure through. It’s why I know that anything you feel you did wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it was. There’s far worse relationship enders than a little bit of anger.

Jesus, I’m so sorry, kitten.

Well, isn’t that a sweet name for sore eyes :) Don’t be sorry. It’s good. I have this cute apartment to myself and it’s for the best it happened now before there were too many variables to consider...like kids or a house or something, you know? I’m definitely sad. But he wasn’t the one for me at the end of the day.

Sorry for dumping all that on you. It’s not really fair given our past. I think a lot of my friends disagree with my choice on this to let him go so it’s nice to just tell someone non-judgmental.

Harry felt angry the way he used to. The way that made him want to scream and he felt the desperate need to message Dr. Hendren because he felt out of his depth. All he said was sorry. How could she feel he was non-judgmental. He was judgmental. He was judging the fuck out of the piece of shit that broke her heart and made her sad.

But he was no better.

The man is an idiot to lose you. I know from experience.

:) I have to head to bed, there’s a big pep rally tomorrow at school so I have to have my brain ready for chaos. Sleep well Harry.

Good night, kitten.

He reread those messages over and over and right before he was going to fall asleep, his phone lit up with one more message.

You’re not an idiot by the way. He might be, but you, Harry Styles are not.

So of course, he dreamed of Evie, Eli, and the sweet girl at the other end of his emails that night.

And hummingbirds.

Thousands of hummingbirds.

*

Most of their messages were short.

I’ve been going to therapy for three years now.

That’s wonderful, Harry. Really. Do you like it?

Yeah...it’s hard.

:( Yeah... It really is. Do you like your therapist?

Yeah. I’ve had him the whole time.

Yeah? That’s good. I’m... proud of you. I don’t want to be weird about it, but I know you were angry. Really angry. It wasn’t good. You didn’t deserve that. I’m glad you have someone to help you work through it.

...You were so nice to me. When you shouldn’t have been. I didn’t treat you right.

You were wonderful, Harry. We were practically kids. If our relationship had any faults, it was because we were too young. I don’t regret a second of time being with you.

His heart skipped a beat. He felt that frustration from back when they were young, and she was so understanding but it didn’t make him grumpy or feel inadequate. All he felt was a sense of belonging. Something he probably would have felt back then if he could have gotten out of his own way. She was willing to look past it then as she was now.

You’re much too forgiving. He wrote. Because old habits die hard.

You weren’t fine, Harry. You didn’t know. We didn’t know what we were dealing with at that age.

Harry hadn’t a clue what he was dealing with. Did he even know now?

Can... can I give you something?

Give me something?

Yes. I... I can bring it to your apartment or to school or we can meet, I just... I’ve been trying to let it go but I think... I think my dream was reminding me that... there’s more to you. More I need to do for you.

Sure, if you think it will give you closure.

God, Harry wanted anything but closure.

Just to clarify: I don’t think you owe me anything.

I kept a lot hidden from you. I held back and it wasn’t fair. All you wanted was to love me and I wouldn’t let you.

It’s a vulnerable thing, Harry. To be loved. You didn’t do anything wrong. We were just young.

But... you knew I wasn’t fine, and you tried and... I just wasn’t fair to you.

You were fine, Harry. I promise. Bring me whatever it is that you need to give me to make you believe you did what you could with what you had.

*

Her apartment had a wreath on the door. It was beautiful with an array of burnt orange and red flowers and green vines. The perfect fall wreath. Beside the door were three pumpkins of different sizes. If he didn’t have her address, he almost thought he would know it was her place. He looked at the mat in front of the door that said welcome, and he wondered if there was any other place where someone actually meant it.

Swallowing, he took a deep breath and knocked. After a minute, the door was out of the way.

At 18, Harry thought she was beautiful. The most beautiful girl he had ever met. During the time they dated, he thought she got more beautiful every second. Apparently, he was right because the woman before him somehow got exponentially more beautiful. Her smile was so inviting, so warm. Like he was seeing an old friend. “Hey Harry,” her voice was sweet. Not an ounce of distrust, frustration, nothing. Their breakup was ten years ago. Not a degree of anger was left.

Harry wasn’t angry either. Not anymore. But if she had broken up with him and he hadn’t done all this work to better himself, he would have been. He didn’t know how she could be so sweet after all she went through.

“Hi,” he swallowed. “I don’t want t’keep you. S’really nice t’see you,” his dream didn’t do her justice. Sure, she was beautiful especially with their imaginary kids. Simply stunning. But this was more. This was the beautiful angel he loved so much even when she wasn’t his to love.

“You’re not keeping me; do you want to come in?” She shifted to open the door wider. “I can make some tea. Or we can order pizza?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I jus’ want t’give y’this,” he handed her the shoe box.

She opened the lid. “Well, you know I won’t say no to shoes,” she smirked.

As much as he wanted to laugh at her joke, he felt like he made a mistake. The box was out of his hands. Not because of what was in there but because of the fear of rejection and being so vulnerable. Feelings of inadequacy were currently circulating through his bloodstream. “Um... s’not—”

“What is this?” She asked, tilting her head. He swallowed, pinched his lower lip between his fingers and took a deep breath.

“S’letters.”

“Letters?”

“I wrote t’you.”

“Me?”

He took a deep breath. “M’sure y’know m’not good at saying what m’feeling.”

She replaced the lid, leaning against the frame. “I feel like I’m a little lost here, Harry.”

He nodded, shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t fidget or reach back out to take it from her. His mouth felt dry. He wished he had taken her offer for a glass of water now.  “I know y’said y’thought we were fine. But m’not happy with how I treated you. Y’were an angel. The perfect girlfriend and I treated y’unfairly a lot. I guess I’ve really held onto that and some of those letters are old but when I hit low points I thought ‘bout what y’said back then. How I wasn’t on m’own. I was allowed t’be angry. But I had t’let people in. All that. I wrote t’you a lot over the years. M’therapist said it was actually one of the smartest things I’ve done on m’own,” he chuckled. “I want you t’read them. When y’have time. I guess. I don’t know,” he cleared his throat. “This is really scary,” he admitted.

“Okay,” she nodded encouragingly and reached out to his forearm. She squeezed it reassuringly. It was only a touch on his arm, and he felt so good feeling it. He knew it was her training kicking in. Like a broken, beaten student at her office door. “I can do that,” she assured him. “Do you want me to text you about each one? Or just a summary of all of them? Or do you want me to not say anything?”

He looked at his feet. “Fuck...” he whispered to himself. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” she took a deep breath. “Thank you,” she smiled. “I’ll start reading tonight and I’ll decide in the moment. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”

He nodded, looked at his feet. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“S’a lot.”

“I enjoy reading, Harry,” she grinned and moved her hand to his upper arm and soothingly rubbed up and down. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Of course he did. There was no one else he really did. He nodded, feeling nauseous but still lighter. “I’m gonna go now,” he swallowed.

“I’ll email you,” she assured him with a smile and headed inside.

*

Like it grows old real fast / how much you can love and not get it back / were we too attached? / It’s a shame how often goodbyes last / I thought we were better than that / I thought I was stronger at last.

The knock on the door was hurried, eager. Insistent on being heard.

At first, he felt frozen in the kitchen cleaning up the dinner he made himself and placing the dirty dishes in the sink. Maybe he imagined the knock. Maybe he was just dreaming again. Plus, she said she would email right? This wasn’t something to feel nervous about.

But the flutter of knocking continued. He hurried from his frozen position as the rapid taps hit the wood. He knew. His gut telling him exactly who was on the other side of that door. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed before pulling it out of the way.

“You bought me the house?!” She shrieked.

Harry dipped his head to avoid her eyes. “Yes.”

“Harry Styles, what the fuck?!”

He felt sick. “You hate it?”

Her eyes were red, glossy. Not what he expected at all. But why wasn’t it? This wasn’t normal. After a breakup of her own where she was sure she was going to marry the guy. Harry appeared out of nowhere. Telling her that he had a dream about her, and he hadn’t stopped thinking about her.

She covered her mouth and shook her head. “Harry,” she croaked.

“I’m—"

“You can’t buy me a house! We’re not even... Harry. This is insane! You have to see that!”

He shrugged. “I guess... but... I don’t know, kitten. I think about you all the time. I see this house in my sleep. I see our life in m’dreams every night.”

She was wearing only socks. Like she didn’t even have time to put on shoes. She held the paper in her hand wrinkled like she had read it hundreds of times already even though he had only given it to her the night before and he just knew which one was in her hands. She cleared her throat and read the date from ten years ago before she read the remainder of the letter.

To the resident(s) of 1278 Chestnut Street

My name is Harry Styles, and I am a college student in town. My girlfriend and I walk by your lovely home every day when we head to our favorite coffee shop after class. We love your home. Or I should say, my girlfriend LOVES your home. She claims it’s her dream home. The porch, the yard, the location... everything. She even loves your driveway. Every bit of your house is part of this fantastic dream she has of the life she wants in the future.

I don’t know if I’ll be with her forever. I am... working on myself. I’m not very good at all this relationship stuff. Especially when it comes to her. Quite frankly, I think she deserves way better than me. But on the off chance I am lucky enough to keep her in my life for as long as I would like, I want to make her dreams come true. She deserves that. She deserves every single one of her dreams to come true. She is the kind of girl that deserves every good thing that can possibly be provided for her.

If you ever find yourself selling, would you please consider emailing me first? Of course, if you have family that you plan on giving your home to, I understand. I can’t even promise I’ll be able to afford it, but I’ll want to know. If only to pass on the message to her somewhere down the line. She deserves the chance to have all her dreams come true.

I’m not sure where you are in life or if you have ever been in a relationship like this one. This girl is so special. She’s an angel. The kind of love that even a movie couldn’t show, or a book couldn’t write. I’m lucky to have her right now and I don’t know why she’s with me. I don’t know why I’m even sending this crazy letter other than I know I have to try. Even if she’s smart enough to leave me, I want her to know her dream home is available. Somewhere down the road. Even if we’re not on the same road anymore. That’s what she deserves.

I’m sorry to bother you like this. I hope you can understand what love can do to a guy in college with a girlfriend who is LEAGUES above him. Thank you for taking time to read this and I hope you continue to enjoy your lovely home.

Sincerely,

Harry

Her voice shook as she read it. “You sent that when we were in college.” He nodded, swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at the packet stapled together. “They emailed you,” she whispered. He nodded again.

“Dear Harry. We got your letter. When the time comes. We’ll be moving closer to our children. They’ve never expressed interest in our house the way you have. My wife and I met in college and believe me, I know a little something about finding the girl of your dreams. It’s nice you’re working on yourself. You deserve the life that fits this house too. We hope it’s with the girl that is leagues above you (although, we imagine she’d think differently). We’ll be in touch. The Andersons.”

Harry watched her flip the page as she made eye contact with him briefly before returning her gaze to the paper in front of her.

“Dear Harry. We hope life is treating you well. That you’re working on yourself, and your girlfriend is still around. If she’s not, we hope you’re not being too hard on yourself. We wanted to let you know we’ll soon be moving to a retirement community close to our son. We want to have you (and your girlfriend) over for dinner if you’re available. Let us know.”

Harry knew what was coming but he was still terrified. Why was she here? Barefoot. Reading the letters to him. What did she think.

“Dear Harry. It was so nice to meet you in person. Here is the contract we discussed. See you soon.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Kitten,” he whispered.

“Dear Harry. We hope you get her back. Enjoy your home. Never stop giving out your love. The Andersons.”

She was teary, swallowing hard. Her hands were shaking as she held the papers in front of her. “You bought me a house.”

He nodded. There was a pause. “M’sorry I took so long.”

She dropped the papers and launched herself into his arms. He stumbled back at the impact. Her arms around his neck, her feet barely touching the floor as she tucked her face into his shoulder. “Harry,” she whimpered. Harry sighed, wrapped his arms tightly around her, one at her waist, the other hand cupping the back of her head.

“I’ve loved you for so long,” his voice felt raw. Like he was the one that was crying and shaking. Not her.

She sniffled and nodded. “I know,” because she did. She read every single letter. Watched the date change but one thing never did and that was the love she felt in each letter.

“M’so tired, kitten,” he croaked.

“Of what, baby?” She cupped his face. The emotion on his face was tender and nothing like she remembered from ten years prior. Her thumb soothingly rubbed his cheek.

“Life without you,” he closed his eyes tight. “This house is yours I want nothing more than for you t’have it, but I want it t’be ours.”

She sniffled, ducked her head briefly as she glanced around. “You decorated it for Halloween,” she whispered.

“You would have done better.”

She snorted. “Harry...”

“If this is the house that makes you happy then I want it jus’ as much, kitten. But you’re my home. You always have been.”

“I don’t know what to say Harry,” she whimpered.

“Say yes.”

“Harry...” she whispered.

“Please, I’m so tired of loving and loving and never feeling that way. I know s’how I made y’feel in college and y’jus’ dealt with it. Y’jus’ wanted love and I didn’t give y’what y’needed. But m’ready now. M’so ready t’do whatever y’need t’love you the way y’deserve. The way y’always deserved.”

Not for the first time in his life, Harry prayed that if this was a dream, he would never wake up.

He never thought he would hold her again. Never thought she would be in the house she always wanted. Or that she would know he was sorry for how he was back when he was an angry kid.

Perhaps most importantly, he never thought he would feel her lips on his ever again.

--

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

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[alicentofhightower]

being the targtower’s youngest sister would include…

pairings: platonic!alicent hightower x daughter!reader, platonic!aegon targaryen x sister!reader, platonic!helaena targaryen x sister!reader, platonic!aemond targaryen x sister!reader

synopsis: what it’s like to be the youngest daughter of the green queen.

includes: reader being the only somewhat normal targtower, i went overboard on aegon’s are we surprised, might be ooc, sorry for how short alicent’s is i wasn’t feeling much inspo for her

a/n: one of my favorite things about alicent’s dynamic with her children is that they all represent a part of her: aegon, being used for politics, helaena, her innocence that she used to have, and aemond, her rage and thirst for power. so i decided to have reader represent alicent’s devotion to her family and her “duty”. hotd is so weird abt character ages so for my sanity aegon is 20, helaena is 18, aemond is 17, and reader is 16 in this. forget daeron pls

Alicent

Alicent has incredibly complicated relationships with her children. They are mirrors of her anguish, but her blood nonetheless. She will protect you and your siblings with her life, if necessary, but she also cannot look you in the eye without a pit of guilt settling in her stomach.

She feels nauseous when Viserys has you betrothed to a Lord from the Crownlands, but apart of her is satisfied with the match, though only because it means you will be allowed to stay in the Red Keep instead of leaving her.

She is just as gentle as she is with Helaena as she is with you. You are one of the only good things that have come from her. She cherishes you. When word of your pregnancy spreads through the Keep, Alicent orders an abundance of maternity gowns for you from Myr. She will always, without fail, offer you a guiding hand when going up large sets of stairs.

By all means, she is not a perfect mother, but she does what she can. She gifts you lots of her own accessories, like the hairnet she wore during Aegon’s second nameday celebration. Helaena is her “dearest love”, and you are her “sweetness.”

Trying to include you in her own private matters is one of the only ways she can spend time with you. She takes you to the Sept with her when she can, though her eyes are always averted from you.

That is one of the other strange things you’ve noticed about your mother; she can never make eye contact with you. Perhaps it is because you are with child just as she was at your age.

When the time comes, she cannot be by your side to hold your hand while you give birth. It’s improper. But she is overjoyed that both you and your son are healthy.

— “You have done well, my sweetness,” Your mother whispers, voice soft and melancholic and warm. Grand Maester Orwyle, bless him, had propped you up on great plush pillows after you’d finished your labors. He’d quietly congratulated you and helped you get comfortable in your bed, then had left you to rest.

She sits on the edge of your mattress, right by your side, thumb gingerly tracing your cheek. The forest green she’s clad in brings out the auburn of her hair. “The babe is a beautiful one. A handsome son for the realm. I am… proud of you.”

Articulating her thoughts has never been her strong point. It is the hour of the owl now. The only sounds you can hear are the padding of raindrops against the tall windows in your chambers and the crackling of the hearth.

“Aegon’s birth came quick for me as well,” She mutters, almost to herself. Peculiarly, she clings to the little ways you are alike to one another; they are fading as the days pass by. Her brows furrow as her mind begins to race.

Your firstborn sons’ births had come with ease. You were both married off far too early in your lives. In girlhood, you had both favored naive stories of brave knights and pretty ladies and romance. You both committed yourself to duty to further the family—

She stops the list she’s making in her head there. Far more resolutely than before, as if putting a wall around herself again, she kisses your forehead and retracts into herself.

“I shall leave you be. Good night.”

Aegon

For Aegon, news of a new sibling is unsurprising. It’s the same old thing to see his mother waddling around the castle, belly swollen. He’s a little indifferent when you’re born.

As a teen, though, Aegon is certainly the type to smack you a bit too hard in the training yard and then shush you, begging for you to hit him just as hard before you wail too loud and one of your mother’s handmaidens hear and alert her of it.

It makes him feel shameful, the first time you see him drunk, stinking of the whores of Flea Bottom and sweat. You promise to not tell anyone of it, if he, in exchange, does not do it again. He still does. You still do not tell.

After the events of Driftmark, you are the one to cut his hair short. Seeing Aemond bloody and bruised had frightened you, caused you to weep in front of the crowd in the great hall, and you’d tearfully asked Aegon if you could sleep in his bed together that night. He forces you to help him trim his waves the next morning as “repayment”, though he did not actually mind it.

You grow closer as you become older. To Aegon, you are the only one who has a semblance of faith in him; your mother was constantly repulsed by him, as was your grandsire and own father. Aemond had given up on him a long, long time ago, and Helaena focused on the children far more.

On his better days, Aegon likes to fly on your dragons together. Seeing you windswept and almost free is strangely satisfying for him; he misses when you both hadn’t been burdened by what your parents had put on you. In the dead of night, he likes to imagine what life would have been like if he hadn’t been forced to marry Helaena, and you your “fat, old husband”, as he put it.

Speaking of, he’d made a great fuss at your wedding. That was the angriest he’d ever saw you; he’d drunk himself half to death at the celebration afterward, made a fool of himself when he got into a fist fight with one of your husband’s brothers. Even the bards had stopped singing to stare at the spectacle. You’d almost lost your voice that night from how loud you’d yelled at him, asking when he’d ever think of anyone but himself, cheeks flushed from deep embarrassment.

“You know of my apprehension when it comes to large events such as these, and yet you cannot steel yourself for one night for my sake? What will you do when Jaehaera is married? Light the castle aflame?”

(You do not know the reason he’d done such a thing was to make such a big scene your consummation ceremony would be an afterthought. That, and the fact he was drunk and angry.)

Some part of him feels guilty when you get pregnant. He knows, deep down, that he had no part in it, and he could not control your fate, no matter if his efforts were weak or strong. But he was still your elder brother, was he not?

One day, while you sit in a rocking chair and he plays with the twins in their nursery, you tell him, “I should like for my son to be like you.” Aegon says, quietly, that yours will be better than he ever was, with you as his mother. He vanishes back into the Street of Silk soon after that.

One of his best qualities is being able to make light of anything, and he does just that after your labors, laughing at how disheveled you are and kissing your forehead. It’s hard not to laugh with him.

Days later, at his coronation, you are the first he looks to for approval, after your mother. The subtle nod you give him makes him wonder how you would’ve reacted if he had been successful in running to Essos. He hopes neither Aemond or Cole told you of what he’d said.

After becoming king, Aegon grows to value your input more and more. On his council, he feels you are the only one to genuinely listen to his concerns and thoughts when it comes to winning the war, and so he ignores the disapproving looks the men around him give him when you come to the meetings.

He does not mention your dragon when discussing battle plans, almost seems to ignore it when Lord Jasper brings you up; your dragon is great and strong, and he knows he will have to utilize you one day, but he refuses to think of it until it’s absolutely necessary. His mind has already been spoiled by what he has seen in brothels and taverns, and he imagines it will only further be by the sights of war. Aegon will do everything he can to avoid what happened to him happening to you.

The assassins Daemon hired infiltrate the Red Keep. They kill his son, leave with his head in a sack. Aegon rages and drinks and rages. He will not allow even you to see his tears, but he cannot stop them from soaking the cloth of your dress when you hug him tenderly, as if afraid he’ll slip through your hands like sand.

Bile floods into his mouth when Otto suggests wheeling his son’s body through the city to secure the approval of the smallfolk. The image of you insisting on going instead of his mother is burned into his brain. “If you will force Helaena, then at least spare Mother and allow me to go,” You’d begged. It does nothing.

As foolish as he can be, Aegon is also not one to forget what others have done for him. You were the only one who’d taken his side against your grandfather. He is glad he was not forced to marry you, glad that he did not force you to a brothel as he did Aemond; he is glad that he has not ruined you.

Aegon’s visits to your child become less and less frequent. He loves the boy dearly, like he’s his own, but he cannot stand to look at him. It’s only a reminder of what happened to his little Jaehaerys.

Rook’s Rest destroys him. He does not even need to tell you that it was Aemond who did it, you just seem to know. There is no way for him to verbalize that he is listening to you while he is in his milk-of-the-poppy induced coma, but he does appreciate the stories you tell him while sitting at his bedside.

He specifically forbids you from looking at him while the Maesters change out his bandages, but he’ll allow you to sit on the other end of his bed with your back to him and hold his unburnt hand while they do so.

— “I feel a monster,” He admits to you one night while you light a candle on the stand next to his bed. You’re clad in a warm nightgown; many whisper that winter is coming, and it’s hard not to notice with how cold the breezes have been lately.

“Why is that?”

“You know why.”

You can’t even fight the scoff that comes from you, and you turn back to him with a frown etched deeply into your face. “You should not. You are king.”

Aegon rolls his eyes. “That did not stop our cunt of a brother from burning me like the Conqueror did Harrenhal.”

Huffing, you smooth out your dress, then walk to the other side of the bed and slowly crawl on. You’re careful not to move around too much, so as to not cause him any more injury, and sit next to him, back against the headboard. You bring your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs. His eyes are slightly glossy when they meet yours.

He takes a sharp breath. “…If it had been my decision, I would have named you regent.”

You laugh incredulously at that, shaking your head. “They set aside Mother for Aemond. They would have forced you to do the same.”

Aegon raises his remaining silver brow. “I am not as feeble and weak-minded as Father. I speak truly. It is you I trust the most.”

Helaena

Helaena is perhaps the least expressive out of all of your siblings, but even she felt happy when Mother’s babe had come a girl.

She does genuinely appreciate that you do not judge her and make fun of her behind her back; she has never felt like she has been able to fit in with her ladies-in-waiting.

As mature as she is, Helaena does like to indulge girlishly sometimes; she enjoys matching her gowns with you, as well as hairstyles and (light, so as to not overstimulate her) jewelry.

Observant and introspective, Helaena also has a great memory. If you tell her you’ve had a fascination with direwolves as of late, or have particularly enjoyed reading about Valyrian history, suddenly the dresses she gifts you will subtly be embroidered with subtle little wolf icons or ancient Valyrian imagery. She is very thoughtful.

Unbeknownst to most, she also gives very good advice. There have only been a handful of times her council has not helped you. Wise and empathetic, she is, and she is always willing to listen to you explain your troubles while she plays with one of her bugs.

It pains her to see you inflicted with the same fate as she was; married off to a man you had no love for, forced to be his incubator. Just as it was during Aegon’s coronation, her head is bowed at your wedding. She does not want to look at your doom.

Despite this, she is perhaps the most supportive of you during your pregnancy; she likes suggesting names for the babe as well as crafting him little clothes for him to wear when he is born.

Although you do not understand her prophecies, it does quell her anxieties a bit that you at least listen to them instead of dismissing them like all else do.

When noise gets to be too much for her, you are the first to cover her ears with your hands, guiding her to the lush gardens of the Keep to breathe. You are the only person she has a likeness of boundaries with; when she does not want to be touched, you leave her be. It’s why you are the sibling she is fondest of.

Her hand immediately flies to grasp yours when Meleys erupts from the boards at Aegon’s coronation. The look on her face had confused you. She’d appeared fearful, but simultaneously also put at ease, as if she’d known that this was going to happen.

After Blood and Cheese, she cannot find rest at night. She takes to pacing about the Red Keep, almost looking like a ghost; pale and silver and paranoid. Despite the fact that it distracts you from your own slumber, you insist on her staying in your chambers with you. She still paces, never sleeps. Some nights you even walk with her around the castle.

— “This one will not live,” She blurts out randomly, interrupting you from one of your tangents, confusing you. She never interrupts you, always listens to whatever your qualms are for the day without complaint.

“What?”

You feel like you’re about to burst; partly from the grand lamb you had for your midday meal and from how heavy the babe in your belly feels. She seems surprised that the words had actually come out of her mouth.

She pushes her face closer to the fly she has somehow managed to capture in her palm, a perturbed glint in her eye. “I do not think this one will survive.”

You decide to indulge her, tilting your head to the side from where you sit across from her, lounging on a velvet sofa. “Why is that?”

“The art of the spider is subtle. It shall trap another in its web.”

(Later that day, you can only wonder if she was speaking of Lord Vaemond after he’d been beheaded by Prince Daemon from behind.)

Aemond

Aemond can barely remember the day you were born, much less the day a celebration had been held for Mother’s pregnancy.

Alike to his siblings, Aemond is not one to forget what you did for him when you were children; how you always offered to take him on rides on your dragon before he’d claimed Vhagar, how you were the only one uninvolved in the “pink dread” incident, how you cried for him after he lost his eye.

After the loss of his eye, Aemond begins to put a wall around himself. Unfortunately, that does include you. Before Driftmark, you were closest with him, but afterward, you had slowly drifted toward Aegon; nevertheless, he shows his affection for you in his own way.

However, he does keep the little gifts you’ve given him over the years safely hidden in his chambers, away from the eyes of curious maids and servants, like the eyepatch you’d embroidered a little Vhagar in in the weeks after his eye was cut out.

When Vaemond’s head is cut off, Aemond immediately places a hand on the pommel of his sword, lest Daemon himself attack you next. When he becomes regent, he is the one who orders you to be given a sworn protector. He is the one who’d help you learn Valyrian when you struggled, even after all your lessons.

Aemond never, never shows much affection to anyone in the family publicly, but he doesn’t mind it if you place a hand on his forearm or his own hand. He prefers it if you keep things like cheek or forehead kisses private in the sanctity of your or his own room.

In his immediate family, you are perhaps the most normal of all, which does make him seek out your company the most. The mornings after he seeks out Madame Sylvi’s assistance are the mornings he spends the most time with you. The shame of it all almost eats him alive, and you are a welcome distraction.

Additionally, the one-eyed prince does genuinely appreciate how you show your devotion to the family, though of course he’d never verbalize it. Almost every training yard session he has, you sit on the balcony, embroidering a dress or two while he swings his sword at Criston’s morningstar.

Your wedding to some old Crownlands lord was a memorable one, mostly because of when Aegon had pinned your new brother-by-law to a table and began beating him senselessly. Aemond was the one who had pried him off, mercilessly tugging him by the collar of his doublet away from the man.

You become pregnant quick. Aemond says that when your son is born, he will bring him to meet Vhagar himself, stating that a “new Targaryen babe should learn the ways of his predecessors”.

As the moons pass by, the Maesters order you to bedrest. Your elder brother likes to visit during his free time, sometimes bringing a book with him to read or nothing, just to converse with you quietly. You are the only “quiet” Aemond has ever known.

When Rhaenys bursts through the boards at Aegon’s coronation, Aemond’s palm finds your wrist, gently grasping it with his long fingers.

Just as your mother does, you begin to shun Aemond after Luke’s murder. It does not make him resent you as much as it does Alicent, but it does make him spiral a bit quicker.

Many a time have you slept in Aemond or Aegon’s bed because of nightmares. The only time he’s ever slept in yours was the night Aegon had found him in the brothel with Sylvi. You had not been awake when he’d crawled into bed with you, just laying beside you and shutting his eye. He makes sure to leave before you wake. Aemond does not know that you were quite aware of his presence, but had chosen not to say anything. If Aemond of all people had decided to find sleep in your bed, something awful must’ve happened. Why take that moment of respite from him?

He knows that you know he burned Aegon, but he does not ever bring it up in a conversation with you, much less acknowledge it. However, Aemond is observant. He notices the fearful glint in your eye when he is around you, now, but this is what he has always wanted, has he not? To rule?

— Aemond is with you the morn after Blood and Cheese, standing in one of the Red Keep’s balconies as you watch the wagon carrying your mother and Helaena depart. Your eyes are sunken in from crying, cheeks swollen; you wear a veil of mourning yourself, though there is no crown settled on your head. The way you lean over the railing to peer at the ground, the way your back is hunched, the way you grieve so openly.. it does not befit a princess. It does not befit someone from the Targaryen family, someone who is supposed to use honeyed words and cunning tricks to protect themself from the environment of King’s Landing.

You sniffle. “Where were you?”

Aemond’s eye goes wide. A deep pit was already settled in his stomach, but it only seems to get worse at your questioning. Even his throat seems to tighten up, make it impossible for him to even choke out an answer.

“When news of… the boy spread,” You begin, “I went to find you myself. But you were not in your chambers, nor in the library. Where were you?”

“Patrolling.” It’s an obvious lie. He regrets it the moment it comes out of his mouth, jaw clenching immediately. There was no use in patrolling at night, when he could barely see anything. His hand unconsciously squeezes the stone railing.

He’s ready to leave with haste when you nod to yourself, face blank and detached from reality. “…I won’t tell anyone,” You mutter, just loud enough for him to hear. “Wherever you were.”

[volleychumps]

Kurōo cheating on his s/o for his new manager but quickly falling out of love with her and she realizes so she quits as manager. But when he comes back to you he realizes you’re with someone else so he begs you to lie to him and say “I love you”.

Won’t You Lie to Me?

- the one in which Kuroo Tetsurou would do anything to hear the lies that stain your tongue

xFem! reader

Warning(s): cheating! angst, lots of tears, reader doesn't want Kuroo's touch in the last part, read with caution this was a painful write but I love angst soooo

---------------------------------------------

If you could go back in time, you wonder if you would take the detour to stop by your boyfriend’s volleyball practice again. It’s a bitter afterthought really, an afterthought to the scene before you. 

She yelped, manager tracksuit zipping up quickly in the process as one of her hands flies to her hair, attempting to smooth down the mess of it as if it would magically fall back into place.

But you're not staring at her. How could you? Why stare at her when the raven-haired boy standing behind her with a slackened jaw and crumpled t-shirt was just such an interesting sight to see?

"Someone's hard at work." your tone is sarcastic, but the slight crack in the tinge of your words is enough for Kuroo to take a step towards you, watching the light fade from your eyes as the cowering manager of their team stares like you're a bomb about to explode.

"Y/N-"

"Don't."

Your reaction is mild and tame, simply tilting your head to the side as you don't break eye contact with him. It was a silly high school love story to begin with, perhaps one of those where happy endings don't exist and things are too good to be true.

If you knew that, then why does it feel like every inch of you won't stop trembling?

"Go to hell, Tetsurou." But he knows. He sees it in your eyes, the finality in your tone that sealed things in place. He knows you mean it. He knows you never say things you don't mean, the same way he knows things will never ever be what they once were.

So why can't he will his legs to move towards you?

Instead, dark eyes watch you hang your head with a heavy sigh, as if you were suddenly exhausted before shoving something in the manager's hands, ignoring the yelp that left her swollen lips.

"It's for the headache he claimed he had." Your voice was monotone as you refused to lift your gaze. "He's your problem now."

"Y/N."

It almost broke you. Almost. The gentleness in his tone, the way in which a shaky hand lifted towards you, but you simply took a step back. Staring down at the manager you once called a friend, you giggle humorlessly before simply turning on your heel and walking away.

"She's so calm about it, Tetsu-kun." The manager sniffed at your absence, trying to put a hand on one of his broad shoulders. "She must have never loved you, I told you so."

But Kuroo knew better. He wasn't sure why he gave in. He wasn't sure why for a second he believed what Yue was saying before she came onto him, not denying her when she advanced. Something about your plans to break up with him? Something about how you had giggled to Yue about how you were planning on leaving him for someone better?

He can't recall why or what was said. All he knows is as he's watching you, he strangely feels quite empty inside. This must mean he doesn't have any outright feelings for you anymore, right?

If he isn't hurting when he watches you go, isn't this for the best?

He's lost in his thoughts when the gym doors come to a tight shut, your knees hitting the soft grass outside as your legs give out from underneath you, a silent wail wracking your whole body as your heart splits into pieces, taking the form of salty tears that slide down your cheeks.

--

Kuroo Tetsurou still isn't really feeling much of anything.

He didn't feel much when he told Yue he still didn't want to be with her despite the deceptive steps taken. Not when she slapped him across the face. Not when Kenma had eyed him with a look of pure disgust with a sharp warning not to speak to him for the next couple days.

The only twinge he felt was when you handed in your resignation as manager, the gym an eerie quiet before the first years hug you tightly, teary-eyed as they exclaim that they didn't want you to go but they understand. Yaku glared at him the whole time, but Kuroo kept setting up the net as the first years tackle you in their last couple of embraces, glancing your way as you stroke their hair lovingly and explain you'll still find the time to hang out.

Kuroo was waiting for you to be on your way, out the door to catch you and say one last thing-

"Y/N, you have to know I'm so-"

"Sorry." Your voice is a little breathless, like you just had the wind knocked out of you. "But let's not, okay Tets-" You catch yourself, inhaling a shaky breath before managing a small smile.

"Okay, Kuroo? I'm happy being strangers. I don't hate you, okay?"

Your shoulder taps his as you stride past, a finality in your footsteps.

"I just wish we never met."

Kuroo stands there, a single emotion stirring in his chest as his gaze stares straight ahead, his shoulder on fire from where you had gently grazed it.

Confusion. Confusion swirls in his chest as his eyes brim with unshed tears he can't exactly match an emotion to.

--

A couple weeks pass...maybe a month or two? But the raven-haired third year doesn't even notice it. He goes through the motions of school and club activities, his team eventually having to slowly begin speaking to him again as preliminaries near the corner.

Kenma taps his head against the doorway of his room, staring at him blankly.

"Hey cheater."

"Funny." But Kuroo isn't laughing, sitting up in bed to eye him with an even stare. Kenma doesn't like the look in his eyes, the usual sarcastic and confident glint in his irises and smile nowhere to be seen. "What's up."

Kenma shrugs, taking a comfortable seat on the floor before pulling out his handheld device, Kuroo blinking once in surprise before laying back down in bed, listening to the click of the buttons and the movements of the joystick.

The cat-eyed boy glances at him, looking back down at his device before taking something out of his pocket and placing it on the end of his bed.

"Y/N wanted me to return this to you."

Kuroo eyes the red scarf at the end of the bed, Kenma focusing on the next level of his game before he sits up again to examine the fluffy fabric, the characters for Nekoma High School on the corner of one end.

His chest seems to twist.

"Don't be a brat, Y/N, it's cold out here."

"What if you get sick, idiot?"

""Stop calling your best friend an idiot! You're the worst, you know."

"Don't kid yourself. Kenma's my best friend."

A lump forms in his throat.

"Fine, whatever." Kuroo had smirked down at you from his towering height, wrapping the scarf around your neck despite your wishes as you eyed him weirdly. He leans down to your height, his eyes twinkling with something you can't pinpoint.

"I don't wanna be just your best friend anyway."

You glare at him a little, tip of your nose colored from the cold before standing on your toes to lean up and kiss him, smiling as your bag hits the snow beneath you, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as the first snow falls around you.

"Promise me." Your sweet voice is hushed, eyes staring at him brimmed with straight adoration as you cup his cold cheeks, Kuroo's onyx eyes holding yours carefully.

"Let's go see next year's first snowfall together."

"Cheesy." Kuroo's grin is cocky as you swat his chest in slight embarrassment, but he grabs your hand anyways, stopping your attacks before leaning a little closer to your face, so close your breaths are mingling. His fingers are touching the scarf wrapped so carefully around your pretty neck, stroking your cheek with a gentleness you didn't know he possessed.

"We'll get a front row seat, kitten, don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"Tetsu?"

"Hm?"

You smiled, snow in your hair as you kissed him again.

Kuroo Tetsurou could now feel again.

"I love you."

And it was his heart absolutely breaking as regret fills the beginning of the onslaught of tears.

Kenma looks up, eyes widening a fraction as his childhood friend hunches over the now clenched red scarf, his body trembling as sob after sob pours out of him, the fabric smelling of you as he holds it close to his seemingly irreparable heart.

No, it wasn't that he couldn't feel.

His body was numb and in shock with the loss of you.

--

Kuroo Tetsurou wasn't a complete idiot.

He knew the damage done was nearly permanent. There would be no fixing things, the "nearly" part of that statement lingering on the sense of false hope he had that you would at least begin talking to him.

Strangely enough, it wasn't that difficult. You began nodding to at least acknowledge his existence when dropping off a packaged treats at practice. You even began saying hello when he was with Kenma, Kuroo only being able to manage an awkward greeting back before watching you walk off with a longing in his eyes.

"Doesn't Y/N-senpai seem so much brighter these days?" Inuoka slurps his yogurt pouch, brightening up as he mentions your name. He finishes tying his shoes, stretching out his arms overhead with a careless yawn.

"Maybe she's seeing someone new."

Kuroo misses a spike, chest heavy as the first year looks up at his captain, startled.

"Relax." Kenma scolds him, not missing a beat. "It's probably not true."

Yeah.

Kuroo jogs back to center court, watching Kenma's fingers set the ball up perfectly.

It's probably not true.

He misses the spike again.

--

"After we win this, I'm going to ask Y/N for another chance."

Kenma doesn't look surprised, eyeing Kuroo seriously before releasing a heavy sigh.

"Kuroo, you should really know that-"

"Oi. Get a move on, you two, this is the last preliminary match before the qualifying match to Nationals." Yaku cuts off the team's setter, Kenma groaning a little as Kuroo jogs ahead of him onto the court, Fukurodani waiting for them on the other side.

Kenma waves to you in the stands, and you smile, waving both hands in the air at the entire team as Kuroo's heart skips a beat.

That smile was still his, it has to be.

Bokuto greets his friend with a wide grin, slapping Kuroo on the back with a little less energy than usual as the two teams begin their warm ups, the two captains meeting once in awhile since the training camp.

"Hey hey Kuroo!" The owlish boy crosses his arms, smirking a little as the crate of balls gets rolled out onto the court. "You look great, better than I was expecting!"

"So you heard?" Kuroo sighs, a hand coming up to rest on the back of his neck. "about me and Y/N breaking up?"

"Hm? Oh, that too. I just thought it would've been a little weird seeing as she's dating Akaashi now and all."

What?

His hand freezes midair, voice caught in his throat by the huge lump that forms. Slowly, even though his body was screaming at him not to, he looks back up at the stands.

Akaashi had draped his jacket around your shoulders, slight smile on his lips as he seems to be immersed in conversation with you, Bokuto allowing him to run up real quick to see you before the match began. The setter's blue eyes were brimmed with so much adoration, the beginning sparks of new love evident between the two of you as you shyly nodded along to what he was saying.

Akaashi looks down at the court once before looking back at you, bringing your hand up to kiss once affectionately with a content smile on his face before placing a quick one on your cheek, jogging back down the stairs afterwards.

You don't know what to expect when you look back down at the court, warmth in your cheeks and chest with a foreign form of love you're not accustomed to yet. You want to meet Akaashi's eyes, cheer on Kenma and the Nekoma team, wave a greeting to Bokuto-

but the look of Kuroo's absolutely broken stare was not within the scope of your expectations.

Among the feelings Kuroo Tetsurou was learning how to feel again,

Panic was not one of them.

Panic is all he knows as the whistle blows in his ears, the game calling for someone to serve the first ball.

--

"Y/N."

"Kuroo." You say his name so easily, as if you're not the same person you were that day in the volleyball practice that never existed.

The one where he took your heart and completely discarded it.

"Where are the others-?"

"Washing up after the game." Kuroo can't meet your eyes, his head swimming with the things he rehearsed for hours on end, yet unable to communicate them.

"Oh." You say softly, and Kuroo hates it. He hates how you grow awkward and uncomfortable, like he wasn't the one kissing down your neck as you giggled for him to quit teasing. Like he wasn't your first love.

Like he didn't mean anything to you anymore.

"Y/N." Panic. Panic is what paints his voice as he steps closer to you, reaching an arm out to tug you into his chest, pretending like he doesn't feel you grow rigid at his touch. "Please."

"Let go, Kuroo." Your voice lost it's soft edge, void of emotion-

just like he used to be. You love him right?

"Say it."

"What-?"

"Won't you lie to me? Say that you love me, please say it."

False hope. He recognizes the next feeling when you shakily put your arms around him as well, your tears beginning to soak through his shirt.

Please say it.

"T-Tetsu." Your trembling in his hold. "I..I love you."

Confusion is next. He feels it when you break out of his hold, pushing him back abruptly with an ocean of emotions across your face, the feeling of holding him simply wrong.

Kuroo doesn't even know he's crying, not until your placing a careful hand on his cheek to swipe at his tears messily before laughing a little at the situation.

"Tetsu, let's put us in the past." Your voice is quiet, the air freezing as your warmth creates a slight puff from the contrast. "It's over for us now, don't you see? There's too much hurt-"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Don't go to him. Please, I love-"

"I won't lie to you again." The tone in your voice is gentle, Kuroo's breath stuck in his throat again as his eyes well up with fresh tears. "I don't feel the same anymore, you broke my heart first...why do I have to take responsibility for yours?"

Kuroo says nothing, another familiar feeling inching towards his chest.

"But look-" You point up at the sky, snow falling down almost mockingly for the first time this season, a sad smile on your lips and wet tears down your cheeks. "It's the first snowfall."

You've never looked more beautiful, with snow in your hair and warmth in your lips.

"You kept your promise."

You turn around after that, continuing to cry as you walk off to go find Akaashi to apologize for the lie you let stain your tongue as Kuroo falls to his knees, his skin numb from the cold-

but his chest isn't numb.

No, he knows this feeling. He knows this feeling a bit too well, the snow seeming to shower at his expense in a rueful manner as he stares at the dark swirl of the sky above.

Heartbreak.

--

[ddollipop]

CURB THIS SICKNESS. . . ! — ( SOFT YANDERE!PLAGUE DOCTOR OC X READER. )

#. synopsis! — there's a virus outside that's snuffed out the lights of many. . . and lucian refuses to let you meet such a miserable fate .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , multiple orgasms , vaginal fingering , implications of paranoia , cum swallowing , oral sex , cunnilingus , blowjob , vaginal sex , obsessive behavior , frequent usage of endearment terms (love, darling, angel) , missionary position , bathing , established relationship , slight choking , slight hair pulling , creampie , biting .

#. word count! — 5.1k .

#. oc carrd! — click here to find more information on lucian + other original characters of mine that i might write for in the future! xx .

When the virus began to spread in all directions from its alleged location of origin, —you were certain you’d be dead before winter. If not from sickness, then certainly from another disease, or at the hands of some twisted maniac just searching for someone to slaughter that nobody would care enough to miss. You thought it was only a matter of time before you succumbed to hunger or thirst or the changing chill of autumn, or maybe something completely different: but something was bound to happen, and you were sure of it.

And it did. . . But it was nothing like what you had in mind.

Lucian may have seemed like something out of a horror story passed down through generations, still clad in his working attire the night he scooped you up in his arms from a shabby alleyway like a stray kitten, but he was surprisingly gentle (and perhaps unusually quiet.) He wasn’t very talkative, but he cared for you in a way you were completely unaccustomed to, —prepared you a warm meal, brewed you chamomile tea, ran you a hot bath, and gave you a place to sleep for the night. He said you were slightly fevered and a bit malnourished, but all things considered, it could have been worlds worse.

“You’re lucky,” he hummed, a gloved hand smoothing over your jaw, “the pestilence hasn’t taken hold of you.”

Even back then, that wasn’t why you felt lucky. . . No, much to the contrary, you felt lucky because this man had taken you in without expecting anything of you in return, and he sought to keep you safe from the rot of the outside world. Thus, little by little, you stopped caring much about going out there. 

His place is a bit quaint for two, but it’s homey, and it smells perpetually of lavender. Over time, he’s shifted the sleeping arrangements, and now you rest in his arms each night; about as close as one can get to being a lover without having the label.

A part of you is sure you could get it if you asked, but to you, it doesn’t matter much. At the end of each day, he comes home to you, and that’s what counts. You take care of the housework while he’s away (not that there’s ever much to do.) For as odd as he is, his living space is free of most things, —no trinkets unrelated to his work (which you are not keen on touching), and he’s meticulous about picking up after himself and keeping all his items in order, so your unofficial duties are few and far between. Otherwise, the rest boils down to cooking meals, washing clothes, and keeping yourself entertained while he’s away. . . Like some kind of glorified trophy wife.

And sure, this will probably get old eventually, but for now, this is what you’re working with. He likes to have you close and to know where you are, —to know that you’re safe and not out getting infected by anyone or anything. If you’re at his home, you’re safe from all the filth of the outside world, and heaven knows it’s so nice to come home and lie next to a body so utterly unmarred by the grime of society.

You’re sure once the virus has stilled, he’ll ease up.

But tonight is not that night. Lucian all but stumbles through the door, and you can hear his rapid breathing through the long, beak-like shape of his mask. He seems startled and frantic, and you rush over, a concerned expression crossing your features.

“Lucian? Are you alright?” You ask, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

In an instant, he snatches your wrist and grabs for the other, holding one in either hand. His grip is fervent, but far from painful, and you become more confused the longer he goes without explaining the state he’s found himself in.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he cuts you off, “you mustn’t get near the door.”

“Okay,” you nod in compliance, “but why?”

“The pestilence has taken hold of this city,” he replies. “The air out there, you wouldn’t believe the thickness of that putrid aroma. It’s suffocating.”

Before you can ask if there’s something you can do to quench his worries, he tugs you away from the entrance and into the bathroom. He removes his gloves and sets them aside, reaching down to begin running a warm bath. Then he looks to you, almost expectantly.

“Strip, please,” he encourages, —saying it like he’s desperate for the act, albeit not necessarily under the context you’d prefer of him.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he hisses, “please, do as I ask of you.”

His bare hands cup your cheeks.

“Please,” he repeats.

It’s hard to deny him when he asks like that and has been so good to you, and it’s not as if he’s asking for a lot. He’s just having a bad night, and if scrubbing yourself down will help ease his mind a bit, you’re willing to put in that sliver of extra effort for his sake.

Lucian sighs in relief as you begin to disrobe.

“Thank you,” he comments. “I really don’t have a clue what I’d do if you fell ill. . . I don’t think my heart could handle such a thing.”

You slip the last of your clothing off and step gingerly into the filling tub. It’s not long enough to stretch out in, so you bunch yourself up neatly to fit the space and look up at him once more.

“I feel fine,” you assure.

“I’m glad,” he replies. “Even so, it’s much better to air on the side of caution. The human body is a dangerously fickle thing, and it can be incredibly fragile. I’ve seen as much firsthand more times than I can count. In its infancy, this virus is little more than a common cold, but progresses into something fatal at a rapid pace.”

You simply nod as he kneels next to the tub, rolling his sleeves up.

“Your breathing is ragged, Lucian,” you state, “you should take that mask off and get some fresh air.”

“After,” he answers quickly.

He reaches for the half-used lavender soap bar and lathers it on his palms, then reaches out to smooth the suds over your arms and neck. His motions are a little rough and all too urgent. This is far from the first time he’s accompanied you for a bath, but it is the first time he’s ever done so and been this aggressive in his approach (if only as a result of his own anxiety.)

For the time being, he seems to avoid your breasts, instead reaching for one of your legs to hike it up out of the water. He repeats this process with the other, cleaning you until he seems satisfied. When he makes no move to revisit your chest, you take the soap from his hand and lather it yourself, placing it in its previous spot before leaning back slightly and allowing your hands to travel where you’d have liked for his to go.

Lucian watches but doesn’t touch. Your fingertips nudge at your nipples, feeling them harden under the minstrations, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth. If nothing else, he should be getting the hint by now.

Surprisingly, you’ve never had sex with him in all the months you’ve spent curled up in his arms, sleeping in his bed. He’s watched you take care of yourself on a number of occasions, has helped with his fingers another few times, —and allowed you to wrap your hand around him once a few weeks prior; but anything beyond that has seemed to be off limits. You’ve chalked it up to his shyness, or perhaps his distaste for human contact as a result of the pestilence; but tonight feels distinctly different.

Even in his previous state of frazzlement, Lucian seems all too content to sit back and watch you fondle your own breasts, soapy fingers clutching and releasing in tandem. You’ve always liked for him to watch you do things like this. Though his mask obscures the view of his face, you just know his eyes are trained on you, soaking up every movement, and you like to think he’s drooling at the way you grope yourself for his enjoyment (and for your own.)

“Lucian?” You prompt, half-lidded eyes glancing over to him.

His shoulders straighten as you say his name.

“You’re very beautiful,” he says, words almost too muffled by the mask to be made out.

“You think so?” You smirk a bit.

“I do.”

Ah, but that’s nothing new, and it’s nothing he hasn’t shared with you before. On the very night he took you in and washed your hair, he smoothed his gloved hands against your scalp and mumbled about how pretty you looked, even with dirt still caked on your skin. Even covered in filth from the alleyways you’d been sleeping in, he thought you were nothing less than stunning, —a real vision to behold, and he’s never skimped on such compliments.

You pause for a moment, reaching out to grasp for his hands. He allows the gesture, though he seems a bit confused, leaning in closer to the rim of the tub as you position him to your liking.

“Do you think I feel feverish?” You inquire, placing one of his hands on your neck and another on one of your breasts.

He makes no move to pull away, firming his grip up almost instantaneously, as if he’s been itching to feel you this way.

“Perhaps a bit warm,” he mumbles, taking a moment to roll your nipple between two nimble fingers, “but body temperature is known to rise during times of. . .” he trails off, clears his throat, then utters: “arousal.”

You trail your nails down his arm, letting your head tip back again. His hands are a bit calloused, but they feel so good against your skin, and you let a few moans slip past your lips. It’s not often he touches you like this without his gloves on, but the flesh-on-flesh contact is electrifying.

“Not to worry you, but I do feel a bit strange,” you huff slightly.

Through the slightly tinted bath water, Lucian can still watch your hand as it travels between your thighs.

“I’m just a throbbing mess,” you hum, giving him a pointed stare; “but you’ll take care of me. . . Right, Doctor?”

It may just be your imagination, but you could swear you heard his breathing shudder at that request. You’ve never been this forward with him, but something apart from the facial expression that’s still hidden away tells you that he likes where this is going. His fingers clamp down on the column of your throat, squeezing just enough to make taking in air a bit more of a struggle, but not anywhere near hard enough to be fatal.

The bit about being a throbbing mess was by no means an exaggeration on your part, so you take matters into your own fingers for the time being, drawing circles on your clit beneath the water.

“Of course,” he finally finds the voice to agree, “—I’d do anything to keep you from feeling unwell.”

That is what you like to hear.

“Anything?”

“Anything.” 

His grip tightens on your throat again, for emphasis, and with that, he seems to come slightly undone.

“Darling, that’s why I’ve demanded you stay here in my home, —our home. It’s safe here, free of contaminants and filth and anything that could cause you harm,” he says, the words spilling out like he’s been holding them back since he first set his sights on you.

“The world outside is ill, not just this rotten city. I’m working tirelessly to combat this pestilence, but as things stand now, the safest place you can be is here. With me. You understand that, my love. . . Don’t you?”

You’re only half listening, but you nod in agreement anyway. Whatever he’s saying, you trust his opinion on the matter.

“Of course,” you gasp, almost slipping a finger inside yourself to the tune of his melodic voice.

“I knew you would,” he continues, loosening the grip on your neck again. “You know I only want what’s best for you, that everything I do is to ensure your safety, —to eliminate the possibility of you ever falling sick.”

“Of course,” you repeat, head growing cloudier by the minute. “You’ve always taken such good care of me, right from the very beginning.”

God, he’s so elated that you’re seeing things his way. The way this makes him feel is almost too much to handle.

“I try so hard, darling, I truly do,” he says, both hands coming up to cup your cheeks.

“Please, Lucian,” you mumble desperately, “I need you tonight.”

He complies, shedding his long coat and draping it over your shoulders once you’ve stepped out of the tub. The chill of the air against your wet skin leaves your nipples hard and sensitive, and as he leads you to the bedroom, you hope he realizes just what it is you’re asking for. His fingers are a plentiful start, and you just know they’ll feel so good stuffed inside you, curling to hit all the right places, —but they’re nothing compared to the cock he’s stingily hidden away for all this time.

Tonight, you want him in all his glory in the glow of the lanterns on the walls. You want to strip him bare and gag on the length between his thighs, feel him twitch against the roof of your mouth, tease every vein that runs up his shaft. It’s not enough to grind against him while you’re half asleep or hump his clothed thigh until you’ve left his pants damp and your pussy sopping, just begging to be fucked by this man who might just love you more than he could ever fear any virus that lurks outside these walls.

“Don’t fret,” he tells you, though it sounds more like a command than a gesture to soothe any worries, “just lie back. I’ll be sure to give you. . . A proper examination.”

You could cum just hearing that.

With half your body pressed against the headboard and his coat nearly slipping off your body completely, he sets to work in his underclothes and mask. It’s by no means an uncommon sight, but there’s something distinct about him this late evening; the way his black attire contrasts so beautifully with the stark paleness of his skin and the mystery it shrouds him in that you’re just dying to sink your teeth into. Everything hidden beneath that cautious wardrobe and that long mask. . . You’ve gotta have it. It’s a necessity.

His fingers, ungloved, begin softly with your calves, tracing senseless lines.

“I’m not so fragile,” you remind him.

For as oblivious as he can be, Lucian takes the hint, and by the time he’s reached your thighs, he’s content to give them the same treatment as your throat.

The way he splits you apart is almost painfully clinical, a thumb on either side of your lips, peering through the eye holes of his mask to admire the way your folds glisten in the orange lantern light. A few prodding strokes leave you biting your lip again, body waning in anticipation for the moment he finally turns his hand over and sinks the longest of his fingers inside you, —slowly, but deliberately. It’s impossible to see his expression, but you hope his mouth hangs open a little at the way your cunt suckles on his finger, encouraging him to prod more and maybe stuff another few inside for you to grind against.

There’s something about the warmth of his fingers that gets you off almost in equal amounts to the way he moves. Another finger inside, and you whine, halfway to an orgasm from this alone.

He’s not particulary rough in his execution, but there’s a clean meticulousness in every movement that leaves every cell in your body craving more, begging for anything he can offer. Months upon months of wanting, of dropping hints, of hoping he’d catch on and finally see things your way, —and at last, you’ve made it. And now that you’re here, you’re content to simply lie still and let him have his way with you.

“Please don’t stop,” you beg, nearly choking on the words when the tips of his fingers brush just the right spot.

“Before you’re satisfied?” He sits forward a bit, resting his free hand on your stomach to press you down onto the bed. “Darling, I couldn’t fathom it.”

You will your upper body forward, grabbing for the hand on your stomach to move it up to your throat. He squeezes, scissoring the fingers inside you, watching closely as your body shakes and your eyes roll back a bit in ecstasy.

“I’ve tried,” he says to you suddenly. “I’ve tried so desperately to be gentle with you.”

You smile.

“I appreciate that,” you answer. “But I don’t want you to be gentle at the moment.”

“That’s a dangerous request, my love,” he warns.

God, you hope so.

You reach forward and grab at the beak of his mask, pulling it upward gently until it begins to slip off and reveal the handsome face underneath. Dark hair, dark eyes, but skin almost pale enough to be sickly, you meet his gaze just long enough to ask for permission, then lean in to kiss him on the mouth. It’s the first time, and it’s electric. He’s avoided this for months, —avoided your mouth, your unspoken pleas, all the passes you made for the sake of keeping himself at bay. But here you are now with two of his fingers stuffed inside you, his hand on your throat, and your lips slotted against his own.

“Please,” you murmur, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

And you can feel the restraints of his mind come unwound.

He’s no longer gentle in the way he fucks you silly with his fingers, hammering them over and over and over again into that delicious spot buried deep inside you, squeezing your throat hard enough to cut your breathing off. The way your pussy spasms as you cum is blissful, and he loves the way your arousal soaks his digits, loves the way your back arches, soundless moans spilling forth as he makes you orgasm.

“I fucking tried,” he says again.

It’s almost manic, so desperate and sort of pathetic in the kind of way that turns you on. This is the first time you’ve ever heard him curse, and it dawns on you that even the filthiest of words sound so unendingly elegant when they’re spoken by Lucian.

“I tried to be gentle. I tried to keep you safe here, —to shelter you from whatever forsaken wasteland remains out there,” he insists, his fingers still buried in your twitching cunt. “I just wanted to protect you.”

He lightens the grip on your throat as you lean in to kiss him again, cupping his face in your hands.

“You have,” you assure him.

“You take such good care of me, Lucian,” you mumble into his ear. “Let me show you how grateful I am.”

The fingers stuffed inside you slowly slip out, and reach for his hand, guiding them to your lips, taking his digits into your mouth to taste yourself on them. He watches with hunger and interest as you clean him with your tongue. He leans in to kiss you to get a taste of it himself, grasping your hair near the scalp and taking a fistful hard enough to make you gasp.

“I can’t let you leave,” he murmurs. “It’s not safe out there. When this pestilence has been subdued, I’ll do this all correctly. We can start from the beginning, and I’ll be a gentleman.”

“I look forward to it,” you answer softly.

“You’ll stay until then?” He inquires.

He’s clearly overreacting, but it’s hard to care when you just want him inside you. Lucian has seen death day in and day out, —so it’s no wonder it feels like it permeates everything around him. He just doesn’t want you to suffer such a fate, and you’re confident that you won’t, as long as he’s yours.

“Of course I will,” you answer.

It’s like something primal takes over. Suddenly his lips are on yours in a bruising kiss, and his hands are grasping roughly at your breasts, pushing you down onto the bed as he crawls between your legs. He pauses, hovering just above your dripping cunt, turning his head to sink his teeth into the meat of your thigh. It makes you squeal a bit, and he kisses the teethmarks he left behind as if in apology.

You can’t help but wonder how long he’s been yearning for this. It’s like every part of him is thrumming from the thrill of it all, and this man who has previously refused to even kiss you on the mouth is now stationed exactly where you want him, tongue lolling out to lick a solid stripe up your folds. He laps like a man starved, then spreads you apart with his thumbs to suck your clit mercilessly.

It’s good enough to make your vision go blurry, and you can’t seem to form proper words through the haze. Desperately, your fingers claw at the sheets of this mattress, and he moans against your hot cunt, sending a vibration rippling through your core that makes your back arch on instinct. You mumble something that comes out like gibberish, pussy convulsing against the flat of his tongue.

His arm comes round to press your hips down, forcing you to be still. It’s the kind of toruture you’re sure you’ll learn to live for. There’s only so much you can wriggle under his arm, which has a surprising amount of force despite his rather lanky stature.

From what little friction you manage as you attempt to grind against his tongue, you tip yourself over the edge and as the knot in your stomach unties for the second time tonight, he continues licking, lapping at the juices that spill forth.

He stands and reaches for the top button of his shirt, not bothering to wipe his face, chin and lips glistening with your aftermath. You watch him undress with lustful eyes, propping yourself up on your elbow, then slinking back against the headboard once again, resting your weary body against it. The quiver of your thighs doesn’t stop you from nudging at your swollen clit.

“I wanted to be a gentleman,” he comments, untucking the shirt from his pants and pulling the front open.

It’s not skin you haven’t seen before. In fact, you’ve seen every inch of him at one point or another; just never all at once, and now, you’re waiting with bated breath to see him completely exposed for your eyes only.

“I truly did. I wanted to give you comfort and security, —to love you as you deserve. And I knew from the moment I saw you that only I could give you exactly what you’ve always needed.”

You hum in acknowledgement as he continues to strip himself bare.

“But it’s so clear to me now that I’ve neglected you,” he continues. “This beautifully desperate display is all a result of my negligence. . . I failed to realize just how much you needed me like this. How much you needed the touch of a man. . .”

He sounds apologetic, but your eyes are fixated on his half-hard cock. The last time you saw it, he asked that you keep your mouth away; insisting it wasn’t sanitary to use it for such purposes, terrified that you might contract some sort of illness if you sucked his dick for the sheer enjoyment of doing so. This time, however, you have a feeling you’re well past that.

To test the waters, you let your hand fall away from your cunt, slipping off the side of the bed to kneel before him. He gazes down at you as you open your lips and let your tongue fall out, encouraging him to make what he will of it.

“My love,” he says, placing four fingers under your chin to rest his thumb against your tongue for a moment, “—I’ll make everything up to you. . .”

His free hand pumps his cock once, twice, thrice, —then he places it gently on the flat of your tongue, letting you feel the weight and the warmth of it. He sighs.

“Darling,” he groans, “ah. . .”

It takes very little for him to come close to cumming in your mouth, just a few minutes of sucking him off, listening to him moan, feeling him quiver at your touch. You hum with his member stuffed down your throat, and he cants his hips reflexively, an orgasm bubbling up beneath his skin.

Your non-dominant hand holds his cock steady while the other is stuck between your thighs, rubbing furiously at your clit, making you whimper along his shaft. When he notices, Lucian finds that wholly unacceptable and snatches you up to position you on the edge of the bed, relieving the pressure on your aching knees. You weren’t down there for long, but kneeling was hardly comfortable on the hard floor.

He spreads your thighs apart and smacks the pads of his fingers against your slit.

Whatever he’s doing, you’re sure you’ll enjoy it to the fullest, so you occupy yourself with his cock again from this new angle, bending awkwardly to mouth at the reddened tip. His fingers find their way inside you once more, working their delicate magic, brushing against all the right places. At this point, you’re more desperate for his dick to slip inside you like this, but you take what he offers in stride (and more of him into your mouth in the process.)

He’s vocal, and that’s utterly divine. His gravely moans and the pump of his fingers leave you cumming for a third time before his first orgasm arises, depositing a sizable amount of his seed into your mouth.

“I love you,” he huffs, —and if he were anyone else, you’d be certain it was just the oral sex talking, but no. . . Lucian wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it.

Of course, he’s made similar confessions over the months, and has certainly treated you like it long before he ever expressed it so directly, but still. . . It feels nice to hear it, if nothing else.

“I love you too,” you answer honestly, urging him closer with your arms wrapped around his neck. “I’m yours tonight, completely. . . If you’ll have me. . .”

“Oh, darling, don’t be foolish,” he remarks, kissing you deeply. “You’ve been mine since the moment we met.”

Your back to the cool sheets, he lingers over you now, his shadow looming over you so monstrously. There’s a stark flush of red on his face that has begun to spread down the length of his neck, and one of his hands finds its way to your breasts as the other smoothes across your thigh. The head of his cock kisses your sopping entrance, sending a series of chills from the top of your spine to the bottom.

His breath on your neck makes your chest tighten, and he finds your lips with his own again as he sinks inside you, filling you up.

“Lucian,” you whimper, helpless to his touch as he pauses, buried down to the hilt inside your cunt.

He presses a few gentle kisses to your throat, murmuring something about how nice it feels to be stuffed inside you. He feels your nails dig into his shoulders as you adjust to his intrusion.

“You must understand by now,” he says, mumbling the words right next to your bitten earlobe. “Everything I do is for you.”

“I do,” you gasp slightly. 

As he begins to move, your walls clench around him, and he exhales deeply against the junction of your neck and shoulder. You roll your hips to match his pace, but as he goes faster, that becomes fruitless. Eventually, you resign yourself to the fate of lying there against the pillows, speared on his cock, him making a mess of you as you moan uncontrollably.

This was everything you’d been hoping for and then some, like some erotic dream come to life. Lucian’s lips travel where they please, —stopping to peck at your jaw, then to suck on your throat. Your breathing is haggard, and he smooths a hand down your side, resting it against your hip for a moment.

“Just a little more,” he whispers, as if to be reassuring.

“Just look how stunning you are, angel,” he murmurs, “how pretty you look like this.”

He kisses you once more.

“You take this so well, like your body was made for me.”

You’re delirious enough to believe that might be the case.

His cock pounds a little harder, and he hits the perfect spot, tearing a desperate yelp from your throat. You’re overstimulated and weak, but your high is itching just under your skin, and you couldn’t bear to see it disappear.

“Please,” you whimper to him, completely at his mercy, “—please, I’m so close.”

He loves the desperation that clings to your voice. The hand on your hip travels to your clit, pressing roughly against the abused little button, making you jerk slightly. He rubs a few heavy circles against it, and you come undone, cunt spasming around his cock as he chases his own release inside you.

Lucian is sloppy near the end, which may just be the only time you’ve ever known him to not be perfectly calculated and precise. His breath hits your neck again, over and over as he huffs through the hunt, finally sinking his teeth in when he comes to a finish. His cum sits hot inside your cunt, and he catches his breath for a moment, head resting against your throat.

“I apologize,” he utters. “I hope that wasn’t too much for you.”

You exhale slowly, his cock still buried in your heat.

“Don’t apologize,” you murmur, “I enjoyed myself.”

You feel him smile against your neck.

“I’m glad, darling.”

For the first time, he sleeps next to you without clothing, letting you touch every part of him, tangling your limbs together. Your face buried in the crook of his neck, breath fanning softly against him, as close to sleep as you can manage without tumbling over the precipice, Lucian reaches for his long coat and drapes it over your body, holding you closer.

[bvidzsoo]

Take your breath away

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: werewolf!Jeong Yunho x werewolf!female reader

☾ Warning: nudity, quite suggestive at times (honestly, they are pretty horny for each other), cursing, unhealthy amount of subtle (or not) jealousy and possessiveness ☾ Word count: 28.9k ☾ Rating: mature ☾ Genre: supernatural creatures!au, academy!au, werewolf!au, omegaverse-ish!au, unrequited love!au...or is it?, mates!au, angst ☾ Summary: New beginnings are always scary, and you are no stranger to them as your family moves to a town called Nocturnal Parade, filled with other night creatures. You find lovely people here, a community, a pack to have your back, and even a best friend called Choi San. What you don't expect, however, is to find your mate, who wants nothing to do with you.

A/N: Hi, my lovelies, I am back! I know I was gone for a while, and I won't lie, I wasn't inspired at all and felt really depressed (some things just pilled up for me in these past autumn months and that mixed with seasonal depression have hit me hard), but I am feeling a lot better now! I won't promise anything, but I'll try to post again more often, and hopefully continue the on-going series I already have. Please, please, please, imagine Yunho in this one with long hair, like in the top-middle picture! And for those who have read my Mingi Preying on you tonight oneshot, I have some exciting news...this story happens in the same universe, sooo, you'll get more insight on everyone's character! ^^ (If you haven't checked it out yet, you should give it a read, the world building goes more in-depth there ^^) Also, important note to keep in mind: everyone in this story goes by the 'Song' surname since they are siblings! I hope you enjoy this story too, and a small reminder, your feedback always gives me an inspirational push, so I greatly appreciate hearing what you think of this oneshot! <3 divider ~ and because I might as well dedicate this oneshot to you for hyping me up and helping me out with it, I hope you enjoy it @hongjoongspoetry <3 ~

            No matter how long I looked, he’d never glance my way. I had gotten used to his constant ignorance, but it still stung. I couldn’t help it, it was the only reasonable reaction considering we were mates.

It wasn’t anything we had spoken about, let alone even addressed, but I had known since the very first time I had laid my eyes on him. It was the change of my pulse, the way the world seemed to quiet around me, my breathing which got shallow, my pupils dilating and my eyes switching to an orchid colour that seemed to persist as my heart thundered in my chest, loud, and overbearing as I couldn’t help but watch the tall man who people surrounded, his head thrown back and mouth shielded by his long fingers as his body shook from laughing loudly. Until now I had only heard stories of what finding your mate felt like, but now I knew the feeling. I didn’t need to read fairytales about it anymore, nor would I pester my mother for the nth time to retell her story about meeting my father. I wasn’t desperate, per se, to find my mate, but the worry of growing old on my own had felt like a mosquito always buzzing around my ears, unable to kill it since I couldn’t see it. The fear of remaining alone seemed to persist in the back of my mind, and based on my mood, sometimes it would make me angry while other times just really anxious.

While living in Colourful River, the big city from North here, finding a suitor for myself had always felt like a challenging feat. There were too many creatures and humans alike who were too nosy and pestering, and I had never felt like I could be truly myself around them. I didn’t have many friends, humans or creatures, and at first, I blamed it on my shyness. Then, I started blaming it on my nerdiness as school rolled around, then it was the thought of being too plain for anyone to find me interesting and approachable, and then I gave up on finding an answer and decided that perhaps I was meant to be lonely, like my parents. In the big city, despite having lived here our whole lives, it seemed like we never found ourselves belonging to a community. Living closer to the border, the cities and towns were inhabited by many night creatures, however, that didn’t seem to change much when it came to my family. Maybe it was because we were all quiet and reclusive, maybe it was because we had never truly felt comfortable surrounded by so much happening at all times. And that is why I hadn’t felt any type of resistance or regret when my parents packed up our things and announced to me that we’d be leaving for a quiet and safe town just South of Colourful River, far from the border and the humans.

Nocturnal Parade has been a place I’ve heard plenty of. I knew it was inclusive of all the night creatures while being heavily influenced by the clergy. After all, it’s the town where the first attempts at a civilised and united nation amongst the night creatures had sparked. The vampires had taken the initiative, better said the Petrova family now known as Bae, were the founders of said town and the party that now advocated for all the night creatures all around the globe, making our voices heard, demanding respect and inclusion. They were, also, the ones to end the hatred between vampires and werewolves. Thanks to the effort and constant hard work, the werewolves had complied and formed one of the strongest alliances known to mankind with the vampires, pledging to fight by their side, to honour and respect them if their passion was returned by the vampires. And the respect had been mutual, the Petrovas didn’t stop until justice was brought to everyone, until every night creature could live a harmonious and pleasant life. It was a bit nerve-wracking to know I’d be cohabiting in a place with such ancient and respectable creatures from now on. From what I had heard of them until now, I knew only the daughter and her parents lived there still, keen on carrying the town’s, but also the family’s, legacy.

I wasn’t afraid of the change, however, I was reluctant and a little hesitant to join the Academy that had ultimately become a symbol of our unity and equality between us creatures. Back at my old schools, which were just simple regular schools frequented by both humans and night creatures, I wasn’t very liked. Everyone seemed to single me out, even my own kind, and they hadn’t always been the nicest about it. I supposed they saw me as an oddball just because I didn’t enjoy chasing a ball in our breaks and would rather play video games on forums with online friends, than play pretend that I was part of their made-up pack. Which brought another issue to light. My family had never belonged to a pack. My father’s family had long ago moved to Colourful River, leaving behind their abusive and mistreated past, meanwhile, my mother’s family had always been tightly-knit but not inclusive of strangers. So, as the elders all died, it was just my parents and me. I didn’t have any siblings, which seemed to make me even weirder since most werewolves reproduced more than once as they preferred to have big households full of children. My parents rather enjoyed the peace a single child, like me, offered them. The less mouths to feed, the better.

However, my worries seemed to be in vain once I had finally arrived in town, and then at Wilden Pine Academy. The town was lively and buzzing with creatures at every corner, all of them friendly and lacking the judgement and nosiness of the big city folk, who always watched you with inquiring eyes, desperate for a drop of gossip. Here, in Nocturnal Parade, everyone seemed to respect your space and didn’t pry anything out of you, they were simply grateful that you had chosen their haven as your home. Moving here had been probably the best decision my parents could’ve made. I liked it here, living by the outskirts of the Haunted Woods was refreshing. I could go for evening runs whenever I wanted without having to share my space with other restless werewolves, who genuinely enjoyed sharing the running track with their friends. I always found solace in solitary, I could clear my mind when it got too loud in there. Runs were pretty much therapeutic to me, I quite disliked it when I was bothered by other rambunctious werewolves who’d howl at the night sky just for the fun of it, mostly to spook the humans that ogled us rather disrespectfully.

My aloneness, however, wasn’t chased away until the academic year started and I passed through the tall iron gates of the Academy. It was a sunny day and I was impressed by the heat despite being surrounded by vast forest, the drive a long four hours until the next town, which was Nocturnal Parade. My parents were probably more excited about me starting my penultimate academic year here than I was, but it didn’t bother me. I knew they wished I’d make happy and lasting memories here, unlike the lack of them at my old schools. They hoped amongst so many night creatures I’d find at least one person who was like me, or even if not, creatures who would accept me the way I was. I hadn’t been walking down for long the gravel path when my backpack was pushed off my shoulders as someone ran past me, only to pause once they realised their actions. My luggage was heavy as I had been pulling it after me, but the boy who I thought wouldn’t even apologise for bumping into me, turned and faced me with furrowed eyebrows and a small pout.

“Sorry, my parents always say I get too excited and lose my coordination.” The boy’s voice had been gruff, a contrast with his soft features despite his sharp face. His eyebrows were straight, his eyes small and dark, his nose petite and pointy, lips pouty and fleshy, his jawline and cheekbones both sharp and defined. His short hair and the razor cut in his left eyebrow made him look intimidating until he spoke or smiled. His lips formed a pout and his eyes disappeared as a dimpled smile formed on his face, brightening his features. He was a cute boy and I had let him help me pick up my backpack, which, surprisingly, he didn’t hand back and threw around his own shoulder instead, “Are you the new family in town? The Byuns?”

I nodded and then extended a hand for him to shake, “My name is Byun Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“I’m Choi San!” The boy shook my hand with excitement lacing his tone, “I was on a holiday when your family arrived in town, that is why I wasn’t able to attend the welcoming party organised by the Songs.”

“Ah, it’s fine.” I muttered as I had started walking again, San falling in step with me, “The party was rather…overwhelming. Not that I didn’t appreciate it, but I had never been surrounded by so many loving people at once.”

San chuckled under his breath as he seemed to carry his two duffle bags as if they weighed nothing. It wasn’t hard to guess what type of creature he was simply based on his appearance already. He was massive next to me, his shoulders wide and strong looking, his chest puffed out and back rigidly straight, his hips surprisingly narrow, but his legs well-worked. He wasn’t too tall, but he had almost a head on me. Besides, his spicy scent was strong and confident, a little bit too harsh for my sensitive nose buds, but not nauseating. And like the rest of the werewolves who had been at the welcoming party, I felt no malice nor judgement coming from San, just a lot of excitement and joy as he had led us towards the right wing of the Academy, where the designated dorms for the werewolves were.

“It might sound a little bit strange, but all the werewolves act like a big pack here in Nocturnal Parade, I assume you didn’t have that back in the city?” San’s perfectly straight eyebrow raised as he threw me a quick glance since we were nearing more students, and San was obviously popular. Everyone seemed to greet him, eager to gain his attention.

“Not really,” I answered San, walking ahead to pull the building’s door open for him, “My family didn’t belong to a pack, actually.”

That had gotten San’s attention as his eyes widened once we stepped through the threshold, the inside of the building just as grandiose as the outside. It was spacious with big windows, natural light seeping through and casting a warm glow over the space, “It must’ve been lonely, then. But fear not, the Songs will adopt your family quite quickly, if they haven’t already.”

I smiled, my heart had skipped a beat at the mention of the kind, but energetic family, “They have already, actually. They had pulled my parents aside before the party and told them that we were now part of the pack, of the family, and that the community would be there for us.”

San hummed as we went up the first flight of stairs, a small smile on his face, “Our community hadn’t always been as close as it is now, but with the Songs' arrival to Nocturnal Parade everything just fell into place. I don’t think I had seen them go a day without doing something for the town or for their fellow creatures—hey, which floor is your room at?”

And that had been one year ago, when I was new to the town and wondering whether San would ever again speak to me. Right now, however, as we sat in the Flower Field behind campus, laying on a blanket and basking in the late afternoon sun, I knew San wouldn’t go a day without speaking to me. Spring was finally around the corner, and so was the Spring Break every student was impatiently awaiting. One week back home sounded really nice right now, I never failed to miss my privacy. The dorms at the Academy were shared, and my roommate snored really loudly and whined all the time. It was hard to discipline the second youngest of the Song family, so the Academy’s ruling board decided to place her with someone older than her, more mature, and possibly a good influence on the fiery blonde who liked to wreak havoc wherever she went. Not in our shared room, though, I had laid down some ground rules after rooming with Song Yeri. No loudness nor messiness was allowed, and of course, she couldn’t bring back boys into our shared room. As long as I didn’t, she wasn’t allowed either. She wasn’t thrilled by the idea, but because her parents had gotten really close with mine over the past year, Yeri was forced to abide by the rules out of fear of me ratting her out to her loving, but unforgiving, parents.

The air was still chilly and you’d become cold if you sat in one spot for too long, but the bodies of werewolves were warmer, our blood hotter, almost to the point of boiling in our veins. My cheeks were rosy as I sat with my legs crossed, a book in my lap as San hummed a silent tune next to me, laying on his stomach as he solved equations. He was planning on leaving for the big city to pursue further education, but he promised to return once he was done with it. He aspired to teach at Wilden Pine Academy, and I was more than eager to be his number-one supporter. He was great with children, and even those older seemed to respect him. San had a demanding aura, and despite him never taking advantage of that, he did know when he had to put his foot down and stop someone from running all over him. Being friends with San had showed me the wonders of companionship, of what a natural and gentle, but platonic, love felt like. I could share whatever was on my mind, at any given time, and San would be there to listen, and even take my ideas further beyond my imagination.

He was a driving force when it came to my creativity, always inspiring me and pushing me to do better and to go harder because I was capable of creating grand things. I wasn’t too sure of what I’d do once I was done with the Academy, but I could see myself being a novelist. It wouldn’t be easy at first, but if I remained diligent and focused on my task, I knew I could do it—at least San had told me so, he was kind like that. Whenever I felt insecure about something, he picked me up and changed my mind about it in mere minutes, grinning from ear to ear as his eyes twinkled. If kindness had a definition, it should’ve simply said Choi San, and I was sure everyone would understand why. The serenity surrounding us, however, didn’t last for long as a squeal of my best friend’s name echoed around the blooming flowery field. San’s body tensed for just a second before he turned onto his back, sitting up as he leaned back on his hands, looking towards the boy he was too scared to confess his true feelings to.

“Sannie!” With little regard for those around him, Wooyoung threw himself at San, tackling him back down into the blanket as San groaned, the back of his head colliding with the hard ground, “Stop doing your homework and come on a run with me, hmm?”

Wooyoung was a charming young man, mischievous and painfully loud, but he had good intentions. If I ignored him always trying to sway San away from studying, then yes, he did mostly have good intentions. I shifted a bit since Wooyoung’s leg dug painfully into my hip, who was still ignoring my presence as he blinked at San slowly, placing his hands on my best friend’s firm chest as San tried to stabilise Wooyoung by holding onto his waist.

“I have a bit of homework still to do, though.” San’s voice was quiet as the sun shone down on the two friends, and I smiled to myself as I went back to reading my book, “Could you wait for half an hour?”

“But I’ve been waiting all day for you.” I could hear the pout in Wooyoung’s voice, breathy and whiny as I chuckled under my breath, eyes focusing on the words in my book. It was jarring how alike Yeri and him were at times.

“Then you can wait a bit longer.” San’s tone wasn’t harsh, but it was chastising a bit, and it made Wooyoung groan as I smiled to myself, amused by their antics. I was sure that if I could hear San’s slight change of heartbeat, the spiciness of his scent spiking too, then Wooyoung was aware of it too. Sometimes I wondered how the latter didn’t realise San’s obvious feelings for him, but I suppose Wooyoung wasn’t a very observant person, unlike his older brother, Mingi.

“Can I stay though—” Then I felt eyes on myself and I heard shuffling around, Wooyoung finally removed himself from on top of San, “Oh, hey, Y/N. What are you doing?”

“Reading,” I muttered as I flipped the page, bored by the story but knowing I had just two days to finish reading the remaining two hundred pages.

“Is it for Literature class?” Wooyoung pressed, coming closer as he hovered over my shoulder, “Yunho’s been complaining about how shitty the book was, something about the story being too slow-paced and the side love story not making too much sense.”

I hummed, completely agreeing with Yunho, who shared a Literature class with me. At the same time, I was beyond grateful that I had learned to control my reactions at the mention of Song Yunho, who had looked my way a total of three times ever since I had arrived to Nocturnal Parade. I didn’t understand what I had done wrong to be brushed off so blatantly by him, but it hurt. It had hurt a lot more in the beginning, but I had gotten used to the feeling of dejection and disappointment that followed whenever we crossed paths. I didn’t understand whether I had upset him or not, considering that our first encounter had gone rather well. To me, it had gone more than well, but maybe Yunho didn’t share the sentiment. Almost as if summoned by some deity, I didn’t have to look to know he was approaching us. My body knew upon a simple whiff of the air, the earthy and intense scent of firewood and vanilla making my lungs feel like they couldn’t expand anymore to breathe in deeper, my skin covered in goosebumps as the world seemed to quieten around me in his presence. Yunho’s tall shadow was looming over us as he stopped at the foot of the blanket, his question directed at Wooyoung.

“Did you take my cologne, again, Wooyoung?” He didn’t sound angry, but his tone was demanding. I heard Wooyoung scoff next to me as he sat mirroring my position, looking up at his brother with a defying look in his eyes.

“No, I don’t like its scent.” Wooyoung was bad at lying, especially when we had heightened and sensitive senses and he was reeking of Yunho’s sandalwood essence cologne.

“Sure, where did you put it? I need it.” I didn’t have to look to see Yunho roll his eyes, I continued feigning that I was reading the book, but my eyes were stuck on the same sentence as I read it over and over again, the words not registering in my mind. It was hard to focus when Yunho was around.  

“Are you going on a date, or what’s the rush?” I willed my heartbeat to remain steady at Wooyoung’s teasing question, to bite back the whine that threatened to leave my lips. I had no right to make claims over Yunho, but my wolf seemed to struggle to understand that. We weren’t mated, and we’d probably never be with how Yunho disregards my existence.

“Where is it, Wooyoung?” Yunho had lost his patience as his voice had an edge, his shadow still looming over us as I heard San fidget around as he turned onto his stomach to continue his homework.

“In Mingi’s bottom drawer, by the bed, where he keeps his condoms—”

“Alright.” Yunho’s tone raised, a tired huff leaving his mouth as San snickered under his breath. I didn’t react but I would’ve smiled too, Wooyoung’s brutal honesty and oversharing skills, I fear, would never be matched by anyone else I’d come across. I had a feeling it was the same for San and Yunho too, “Stop taking my things or I’ll tell mom.”

“Stop being a pussy and always ratting me out to mom,” Wooyoung’s tongue was stuck out as Yunho leaned down and harshly flicked his little brother’s forehead, making him yelp, “I’m telling mom!”

“Who’s the pussy now, huh?” I couldn’t help the smile spreading onto my lips this time as Wooyoung started whining loudly as he rubbed his forehead, his scent souring just a little bit.

San’s heart skipped a beat and I wondered whether the other two noticed, but based on their glaring contest, I highly doubted it, “Whatever, Y/N’s reading the same book as you are. Didn’t you say—”

“I’ll see you at dinner, Wooyo.” Yunho’s sharp intake of breath made me gulp as I fought hard to not show my disappointment, I knew Yunho wasn’t interested in me, but going to the extent of not even wanting to hear about me definitely stung a lot, “And don’t bother Sannie too much.”

Don’t bother Sannie too much, but I suppose he could bother me. Not that Yunho had even noticed me lounging around on the blanket, despite Wooyoung being almost all nestled up into my side since San wasn’t paying any attention to him now. I gulped down the bitterness and growing lump in my throat as Yunho departed, his footsteps loud and heavy, the sounds of the world returning to my ears once he wasn’t around anymore. Breathing was easier too, but it was a bit difficult seeing anything written on the yellowing paper since my vision was suddenly blinded by tears. It was alright, I have heard of mates that weren’t fated to be together. Of mates where only one of them imprinted on the other, and was forced to watch the love of their life mate with someone else, forced to live and die alone, without having ever experienced true and honest love. It was alright, I wouldn’t know how to gesticulate a relationship either way. I gulped and blinked my eyes fast, willing the tears to disappear before Wooyoung could notice them.

The younger boy sighed loudly next to me before he rolled over, crawling on San’s back as he laid his cheek against his friend’s scapula, “Do you mind if I take a nap like this?”

“No.” San’s voice was deeper as we shared a knowing look, Wooyoung remaining oblivious to San’s racing heart as his cheeks flushed in embarrassment when I gave him a subtle wink. If I couldn’t find my happiness, then I truly wished at least my best friend would. He’d deserve it, San deserved to be cherished and loved like no one else, and I had a feeling Wooyoung would be able to provide San with everything he needed. If only he wasn’t so oblivious to San’s feelings, besides, I had never seen Wooyoung courting anyone, we had no idea of his preferences. Whenever San tried to bring up the subject, he’d told me Wooyoung would smartly twist it until they weren’t even talking about it anymore. Maybe he was avoiding it because he had noticed San’s reactions and was afraid to hurt his best friend, or maybe he was avoiding it because he had been feeling something he didn’t understand quite yet. It wasn’t taboo for werewolves to find love amongst their own gender, but I suppose growing up in a place where nobody was like you must be nerve-wracking and rather full of uncertainty. This only made me realize that despite the cons of living in the big city had its pros as well since I grew up in a diverse and inclusive place, open and uncaring of who loved who.

But if Wooyoung’s romantic preferences remained unknown to us, Yunho’s certainly didn’t. He was unlike anyone I have met before, starting from his personality and ending with his looks. He was the eldest of the family, a good few minutes older than his twin brother, Mingi, and so naturally he was also the biggest and strongest. He was intimidatingly tall and freakishly broad, his shoulders wide and his back strong. He wasn’t visibly muscular but I’ve seen him countless times lifting logs, and even heavier things, without breaking a sweat to know that Yunho was outrageously strong. His hair was a dark brown and it had grown out since I had first met him, now always messy and curly as it reached his shoulders, making him look more boyish than the first time I had seen him. He had red highlights in his hair a year ago, adding to his mysterious allure, as his lips were a soft pink, the apple of his cheeks and nose dusted coral, which was a nice contrast with his paler complex, unlike Mingi’s whose skin was a beautiful caramel. The twins weren’t identical, but upon a closer look, you were able to tell just how many attributes they shared.

Yunho loved experimenting with his style, and he mostly wore coloured clothes, all flashy and somehow still cosy looking, however, his shoes always seemed to be mismatched. It was a peculiar feat that had me wondering whether Yunho was just generally weird or he just had a particular taste when it came to fashion, I soon had realized it was the latter. His nails were always well-kept and painted either a turquoise or a yellow colour, bringing attention to his already beautiful hands, his fingers long and bony and mostly decorated by black rings. His scent, that earthy firewood and vanilla, was just as attention-grabbing as the rest of Yunho. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve assumed Yunho was a very serious person, highly focused on his education, someone who spent his days cooped up in his room reading and learning all the time. But the Songs weren’t too focused on getting high grades, and that became apparent rather quickly after I arrived at the Academy. Yunho was a goofy guy, he loved having fun and he really enjoyed being surrounded by people, always eager to share a laugh with someone, or just fall into idle chitchat for hours on end. People seemed to gravitate towards him, eager to have a word with him. It wasn’t just him, though, students at the Academy all seemed to love the Song family, especially the twins who felt like fresh air in the dull and mediocre town that Nocturnal Parade seemed to be at first glance.

However, as mediocre as it was, I had never felt more at ease in a place before. It truly felt like I had found a community for myself and for my family, a place where everyone had your back and expected nothing in return even at the slightest of help offered. My parents loved it here, it was rather obvious since my mother was smiling more, the wrinkles were gone from her face, and my father wasn’t as stressed as before. Working as an archivist in the big city had been demanding, but in this quiet town where nobody was rushing forward with their lives, my parents could take a breather. And I could too, until I quickly realized I had been blatantly rejected by my potential mate before even getting to know them. The day we had arrived in Nocturnal Parade had been long and nerve-wracking, I had no idea what would await us in this new place. That same day, the werewolves threw a welcoming party for our family, eager to welcome us into their pack.

It was late evening by the time my family had sorted most things out at our small house, which was on the same street as the Songs and right by the Pinecone Forest, the perfect neighbourhood for relentless werewolves that needed a lot of space to get rid of their impulsive energy. The party was in the backyard of the Songs family and was full of creatures by the time we made it there. It was warm, welcoming, and felt genuine from the second we stepped through their threshold. The family was big, but each one of them was gentle and eager to meet us, even the troublemakers which were Wooyoung and Yeri. And after that, it didn’t take long for me to become once again invisible as I stood close to the drinks table in the Songs' backyard, gazing out towards the bonfire as the sun was about to set. The evening breeze was warm still and a light sheen of sweat coated my temples as I sipped my cool lemonade slowly, embarrassed to refill it for the fourth time. My solace, however, didn’t last for longer as I noticed two towering figures beeline towards me. Their hair was tousled and they looked like they had been wrestling before they headed here, and I felt nervous upon realizing that they were probably the twins Mrs. Song had been talking about.

They had been out on their evening run and would only join us later, and they were very much so headed my way to introduce themselves. My heart was racing and I felt nervous, but I willed myself to calm down since I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of two potential classmates once I’d started attending Wilden Pine Academy, which had been another anxiety-inducing thought at that time. The two guys, so very different in appearance yet so similar in mannerisms, sported matching smiles on their faces by the time they reached me. The one who was dressed in all-black and wore heavy jewellery had long hair which was pulled back into a half-up ponytail, his hair blonde and red, a rather cool-looking hairstyle. His features were sharp and his gaze was intense, but his open-mouthed boxy smile softened his features, his crooked front teeth endearing. The other one, however, was dressed in a pink crop top and high-waisted yellow jeans, one of his sneakers green meanwhile the other was turquoise. His hair had been shorter than the other guy’s, darker in colour too as it had red highlights, parted at the forehead. His features were a lot softer, his eyes rounder and warm, his cheeks puffy and rosy, his pouty lips a dark purple. His nails were painted turquoise and his jewellery was a lot simpler than the other guy’s, and I quickly realised that unless he was smiling, he looked just as intimidating as his twin brother.

But really, Yunho’s appearance wasn’t the first thing that caught my attention, sure, he looked unusual and made me remember the days when I was a lot younger and would purposefully dress up my Barbie dolls in silly outfits and organise pageants for them, but it was all about his scent and demeanour. The world seemed to dim around me when we had made eye contact, my arms and legs feeling numb suddenly as his rich earthy musky scent tinged with a hint of sweat invaded my nostrils, followed by firewood mixed with vanilla making my tongue feel like lead. My heart was racing and I couldn’t do anything about it as I watched Yunho’s pupils expand, his body turning rigid as Mingi remained oblivious to the subtle exchange between me and his twin. I had known that whatever I felt just upon a glance and a whiff weren’t simple reactions of my body, but when I heard his voice and touched his warm skin, all of my fears and worries were answered.

“Hi,” It was the slightly shorter twin that addressed me first, his voice deep and lightly raspy, “You must be the Byuns’ daughter, right?”

I wasn’t able to find my voice as I nodded wordlessly, hands tightening around my cup of icy lemonade. Thankfully they didn’t seem offended by my lack of verbal response, I could only pray they would assume my heart raced so wildly because I was nervous. I tried to ignore the fact that the taller twin’s heart was thumping even louder than my own heart, blaming it on the remaining adrenaline from his run, “My name is Yunho and this is my twin brother, Mingi.”

One large hand was extended towards me then, and as I grabbed it to shake it, I was positive Yunho must’ve felt the electricity that coursed through my body at the simple touch. It had felt as if my whole being was charged, as if I was experiencing the whole world for the first time. Everything sounded sharper, looked brighter, and smelled fresher. I could feel Yunho’s pulse in my own palm, his gorgeous eyes shaking as we stood frozen, gripping each other’s hands tightly. But upon Mingi’s awkward throat clearing, I ripped myself away from under the charm, and faced the guy with a small smile, “Nice to meet you two, I’m Y/N.”

Touching Mingi, however, felt like touching anyone else. My body was still tingling from Yunho’s touch, but I had felt nothing special as Mingi grinned widely at me, his handshake just a little firmer than Yunho’s had been. Once we released each other’s hands I was quick to down my lemonade, subtly trying to pat the sweat from my temples away, embarrassed over the fact that my scent was most probably spiking and irking them. But neither boy commented about it as Yunho’s deep eyes remained trained on me, tracking all of my actions.

“You just arrived, right?” Yunho’s voice was a lot steadier than mine had been, and I gulped, trying to ignore the sigh that threatened to leave my lips at the warm rumble of his tone.

“Yes, somewhere around noon. The drive wasn’t too long, though.” I hoped if I spoke fast and a lot they would blame my reactions on nervousness, “We’ve been looking forward to moving here, I’ve heard a lot of great things about this town due to the Petrovas and everything. I assume living here is rather good.”

The mention of that name seemed to make the twins grimace, but I didn’t pry and they didn’t say anything about it, “Surely it is, we’ve moved here roughly nine years ago, but it just feels like we were meant to be in this town, to live here.”

Mingi’s tone was earnest as he spoke and I smiled at him, my eyes constantly slipping back onto Yunho, who looked like he hadn’t blinked since the twins had reached me. I gulped and smiled softly at him, wondering whether he felt the same visceral emotions as I did in his presence, under his burning stare.

“I hope I’ll find a home in this town too, I haven’t been here for long, but it certainly feels a lot cosier than the big city had been for my whole life.” My tone turned a bit sour as I shifted on my feet, making the twins look at me curiously.

“You’re from Colourful River, right? It’s a big city, we always liked going there for random trips.” It made me wonder if Yunho and I had unknowingly run into each other before, but my inner wolf told me that we hadn’t. If we had been, I’m sure our parents would’ve never been able to separate us from each other, “It must’ve been nice living amongst humans.”

I tried not to stare at Yunho’s inviting plush lips while he spoke, but it was hard. Everything about him was so captivating, “Since the city is closer to the South than North, it isn’t dominated by humans, but they were rather alright, not as scared as all the legends say. But if you go up North they might not be as friendly as those living closer to the border.”

“Did you have human friends?” Mingi’s tone was eager as he grinned at me, and I didn’t want to disappoint him, but there was no point in lying to these two.

“I didn’t have many friends,” I muttered, chuckling a bit sadly, “But the humans were less evil compared to the night creatures.”

Silence settled upon the three of us as I didn’t look up at the two, but Yunho’s stare remained insistent. He had stepped closer meanwhile we had been conversing, and I hadn’t even noticed until his strong scent hit my nose once again, making me take a deep breath and gulp it down hungrily, thankful when it felt like the scent got stuck in my throat. I hadn’t experienced anything like this before, but the yearning to be close to him, to touch him and feel him was overwhelming all of a sudden as I looked up, finding Yunho’s head tilted as his eyes slowly racked over my body. It made my cheeks burn and my muscles tense, my wolf stirring in something that I could only call arousal. I have certainly not experienced anything like this before with anyone. I wondered if this meant anything deeper, whether imprinting on first sight was a real thing or only something made up for hopeless romantics.

“You’ll see finding friends here will be a lot easier than in the big city,” Mingi’s smile was warm and he reached a hand out to pat my arm, making Yunho’s eyebrows furrow as he looked at his twin sharply. Mingi just cast him a curious glance before his name was being called by his mother, her voice louder than the cacophony of the party, “Oh, I’ll be back after I see what mom needs from me.”

Then he left, jogging towards his mother with a smile. Yunho, however, took another step towards me, looming over me as his eyebrows furrowed, nostrils flaring as I gulped nervously, wondering whether he felt the same as I did. I wanted to ask, but I was embarrassed. He reached a hand forward, his fingers brushing against mine, but he seemed to catch himself as he took a step back, jaw set tightly. And then, without saying anything, he turned and hurried away, ignoring the people who called out his name. My heart raced as I watched him leave, suddenly feeling cold and empty. The wolf in my head whined and whispered at me to chase after him, to claim him and tell him that he was ours, but I couldn’t do that. Yunho had free reign of his feelings and thoughts, I couldn’t force something like that on him. We hadn’t even known each other five minutes ago, it would’ve been so wrong.

But what was even more wrong and more painful than anything I had experienced before was the fact that Yunho never looked my way again after that, remaining silent and avoidant, ignorant, he’d even flee the room if it was just the two of us. I didn’t even have the chance to have him before I lost him, and deep down, I knew I had been denied by my own mate. It was painful, but it wasn’t anything I could change, at least, it didn’t feel like it at the moment.

            With the Spring Break right around the corner, the hallways were liverier than before as students pilled together, eagerly discussing what they were up to once they’d return home. The professors seemed to be in a lighter mood as well, a lot friendlier too, and more understanding if someone slacked off a bit. Everyone but our Literature professor, who demanded we hand in our essays right before the week ended. Today was Friday and we’d be heading home tomorrow, I was hitchhiking with San’s family since they’d offered to drive us home as they were out of town and would drive by our Academy on their way home. San’s parents were busy businessmen so they were always on the go, oftentimes leaving San and his much older sister at home, who was a rather successful makeup artist in Nocturnal Parade and not just. She’d gotten an out-of-town offer just last month and the gig went well, so, she was now successfully expanding her business. But because I had been procrastinating my essay until the last moment, it meant that I had been cooped up in the Library this whole morning, and then later in the Study Hall as late evening was approaching.

My muscles ached from sitting in the same spot for so long and my eyes stung from being too dry, I had been staring at my laptop’s bright screen for an ungodly amount of time, if I wasn’t a werewolf I bet my eyesight would be horrible by now. Thankfully, the Study Hall was a lot less packed than usual, and the absence of students meant I could work in peace without distractions. That is until Yunho decided to walk into the vast room, eyes scanning the place and quickly jumping over my presence as my eyes burned into the side of his head. Of course, it was no surprise that I had been completely ignored by him once again, resigned, I went back to the finishing touch-ups of my essay. My heart ached and my hands felt cold now that I knew Yunho was in my vicinity, so close, yet miles away still. I gulped and willed myself to ignore his musky scent that seemed to haunt my every sense now, and I could’ve cheered when I was finally finished with the essay. I didn’t waste any more time sending it to my professor as I swiftly gathered my things and rushed out of the Study Hall, heart racing in my chest.

My muscles had been aching for an evening run and I knew I’d have to skip dinner tonight since I felt restless, my thoughts messy and filled with anxious whispers. Since most students were returning home tomorrow morning, it meant that the community would be organising a welcome home bonfire as soon as possible. The bonfires were great and I always had a good time, but it was inevitable to come across the Song family there since they were the main organizers of it. Just last year, when the Summer Break finally arrived, I had been squeezed between Wooyoung and, tragically, Yunho on a log, forced to endure Yunho’s rigid stance and complete ignorance as he chatted and laughed with everyone around us. My skin had been burning, not because of the close proximity to the fire, and my wolf was whining at me to touch him, to lean closer, to speak to Yunho. But I knew it was pointless, and thus, decided to save myself from embarrassment as I quickly excused myself and walked back home, rather glad that San wasn’t home to pester me about my sudden sour mood. San was a dear friend, but sometimes he was awful at giving me space, at understanding that I needed to be alone to figure my thoughts and feelings out.

That was why I never let him know when I’d go on runs, I preferred to be alone either way. The air wheezing past my ears, which were in tune with everything around me, was always freeing and relaxing. My jumbled thoughts became a silent murmur in the back of my mind as my paws hit the forest floor powerfully, strong and long legs carrying me far away from the Academy, from the campus, from any other possible wolf that I could come across. I liked solitary, it’s what I knew my whole life, it was comfortable and comforting. Whenever I let my wolf take over, it was as if I was reborn once I shifted back into my human form. I felt invincible as my burgundy fur gleamed under the setting sun rays, and I leered whenever another animal made haste in my presence. In my wolf form, everything felt simpler, more primitive, and less complicated. If I could, I would probably never shift back into my human form, but that was unethical and very unhealthy. I wasn’t a wolf, I was just a simple werewolf, and abandoning my human side would mean that I was going rogue. And lone, rogue, werewolves never survived for long. It wasn’t what we were designed for, so I couldn’t abandon my true self.

My run tonight had taken longer than usual, the forest was now dark as I returned to the shed that lay just on the outskirts of the campus, not too close, but not too far either in case of an emergency. I had found it on an early morning stroll with San, and I had been using it as my hideout ever since. It was a good spot for privacy while I’d change out of my clothes, away from prying eyes when I’d turn back into my human form, naked and unprotected. I wasn’t uncomfortable by nudity, after all, it was rather common and normal amongst werewolves to see each other bare, but I was shy, and thus, preferred to remain hidden from other’s eyes. San had joked once that I was a prude and old-fashioned, but I just simply wished that not everyone saw me so exposed, it was a tiny bit embarrassing even if it was very normal for our kin. So, the shed was the perfect spot for me to stay out of sight while being close enough to campus that if I was late for curfew I’d make it back swiftly and unnoticed, like tonight. I knew I probably had only a few minutes to make it back to the right wing, but as I had no devices on me, I wouldn’t know until I made it back to my clothes. San was certainly blowing up my phone by now, asking where I was and why I didn’t join him when it was quiz night—which only meant that I would question him about whichever lesson he had decided he didn’t know well enough, so really, it wasn’t a fun activity, but I loved San, so, I helped him out from time to time.

Taking a deep whiff of the air, waiting for a second to determine whether anyone was in my vicinity, I was glad when my wolf sensed nothing, so I nudged the shed’s door open with my fur-coated head and walked inside. The small lamp I had turned on cast a dim warm hue over the abandoned place, and I approached the table as I felt my bones shifting, my jaw locking in tight and my lungs constricting for a second. My joints popped and my head felt like it was splitting in two, but it all lasted for a second or two, until I was standing tall on my legs, hands reached out to stabilise myself on the table. Shifting wasn’t painful by any means, but it always left me a bit disoriented. The doctors in the city had told me it was because I was an early bloomer, my body forced to mature before its right time, so it wasn’t anything necessarily bad, just uncomfortable. As I regained my senses and shook my head to clear the dizziness, my muscles locked up and my wolf purred loudly, almost to the point it escaped past my own lips. Something was amiss. In the dim lighting, I noticed another heap of clothes thrown on the ground, just by the entrance. The scent too…it was familiar, too familiar, and I panicked. How had I missed it? Had I become so used to it that it didn’t faze my wolf anymore?

As I hastily tried to grab my clothes, nakedness be damned I’d get dressed on the way, the shed’s door was slammed open, a low grunt echoing in the otherwise silent space. My eyes widened as a gorgeous black wolf with orchid eyes stared back at me, huffing and puffing as saliva dripped from its mouth. It was big and strong, its vanilla and firewood scent a lot more permeating than before. My knees felt weak as my hands tightened into the table, holding myself up since my brain was short-circuiting. For a second, the big black wolf didn’t move, its snarl loud in the shed, but then, bones cracked and the black fur slowly disappeared as the wolf shifted into something more human looking, tall and lean, strong and…very naked. My eyes widened when I finally realised it was Yunho standing in the doorway, his eyes still orchid coloured as they bled into mine, and I was frozen as my wolf started whining, whispering to me to approach Yunho, to touch his hot and strong body, to entice him and make him claim us.

Yunho’s body was anything like I had seen before. He was alluring by all means, and the lower my eyes dropped the tighter my chest felt, the lump in my throat getting bigger and harder to ignore. I had seen many guys naked before, but they couldn’t compare to Yunho, everything about him was…big. My hands flattened against the surface of the table and I tilted my head before I could stop myself, well aware that my wolf was more in charge of me than my own conscience, my eyes a bright orchid as Yunho’s lips pressed into a straight line, his eyes not shy of taking in every curve of my body, his hands balling up into fists at his sides. It was hard to breathe, and it was even harder to control my bodily reactions when Yunho was so close, so exposed and vulnerable for taking. And maybe he was thinking the same thing because all of a sudden, we were moving towards each other, our eyes glimmering in the dim light and our chests heaving as I bared my fangs at Yunho, whose lips curled into a low snarl. I was so close to touching him, I could feel his body heat, but I knew I couldn’t. We weren’t ourselves just yet, the adrenaline coursed through our bodies from the run, and our wolves were stronger and louder than under normal circumstances. He would’ve been so easy to touch, though, as we stopped barely a few feet away from each other, desire written all over his features, but in a last attempt to find control over my body and mind, I snapped out under my wolf’s control.

I found my voice, but just barely, as my cheeks flushed a deep red, “I’m—I—I thought nobody knew of the shed, I—I’m, uh, I’m sorry for barging in. I didn’t know—I’ve never seen you here before, I—”

“Y/N.” Yunho’s voice was deeper than ever before, his round eyes dangerous as they were narrowed into slits, watching me closely. Just hearing my name said like that shut me up really fast as my heart raced in my chest, and I knew Yunho could hear it. It was so loud. I could’ve touched him, my wolf wanted it desperately, but Yunho wasn’t himself just yet, he didn’t look like it, “I’ve gone to this Academy for longer than you, of course I know about this place. Mingi and I come here all the time.”

I released a shuddering breath, forcing my eyes to stay on his face, anywhere but lower as I couldn’t trust myself and my wolf just yet. I really wanted to reach out and trace his firm muscles, to cradle him close to myself, to burry my face between his pecks, to lick the sweat beads that rolled down his navel, lower into his happy trail until they reached his— “You should go before Mingi returns.”

I jumped, mouth dry as I realised I was staring lower than I was supposed to, my whole chest and ears burning now, not just my cheeks, “I’m sorry.” I managed to mutter before I hurried back to the table and clumsily put on my clothes. I knew I looked like I had been mauled by how messy my hair was, my shirt untucked and one of the pantlegs rolled lower than the other, but I needed to leave before I’d do something I’d regret later. Yunho wasn’t mine, we weren’t mated, and I couldn’t do anything about it. But as I went to rush past him, he caught my wrist with frightening speed, his palm hot and large. I gulped but didn’t look at him, my eyes falling on the heap next to his clothes, very clearly Mingi’s now that he had pointed it out.

“You shouldn’t show yourself to just anyone, Y/N, it’s lowly.” The pang in my heart was more painful than anything I had experienced before. What did he mean by that? I had literally been on out a run, of course, I wasn’t showing myself to just anyone, it was only normal I was naked, or was I supposed to shift while wearing my clothes only to rip them apart? Besides, who had permitted him to say such things when he was the biggest manwhore I had known to date?! His words hadn’t just hurt me, they ignited an angry fire deep in my veins that had lay dormant for too long.

“Is it lowly shifting back into my human form after a run, Yunho? Really?” I chuckled humourlessly, my next words coming out in a snare as I looked at him with a glare, “You’re rather quick to judge me when you have no shame sleeping with half of the Academy, shouldn’t that be considered lowly?”

Before Yunho could say anything and before I could regret the words I had just spoken, I stormed off, flinching as I almost collided with a large white wolf, its head tilted in confusion as we stared at each other for a second. I gulped and averted my orchid-coloured eyes, “Hello, Mingi.”

The wolf huffed and bowed his head slightly, and despite wanting to flee, I pushed the door open for him as the wolf let out an appreciative whine, its eyes switching between Yunho and me once it was halfway inside the shed. But I didn’t wait around to hear Mingi’s questions as I rushed back to campus, checking my phone to see five missed calls from San and ten even angrier texts than the voicemails he left, clearly upplaying his sadness. I could hear Wooyoung’s witchy cackle in the background as he no doubt was playing on San’s new PlayStation. A quick text later, I let San know that I had lost track of time while I was on my run and that we’d see each other during breakfast the next morning. Sneaking around the dorms to sleep in San’s bed tonight would’ve been worth, if only my heart and mind weren’t in turmoil, aching all over again due to Yunho’s nasty and undeserved assumptions. I had no idea why he acted so differently with me, it’s like he was a completely different person in my presence, and I didn’t enjoy it. It hurt me deeply. What had I done to deserve such coldness from him?

            The ride home with the Chois was filled with laughter and sharing stories, the radio lowered once San and I started telling them about the Academy and our classes. San’s family had always felt like a second family to me. They were warm and very loving people, even if I had initially struggled to warm up to them, they had never pushed or pried for any information, no matter how insignificant it was. Thus, I came to trust them rather quickly since Mrs. Choi loved baking and would often invite me over during the holidays. Besides, I’d always leave with a basketful of whichever cookies Mrs. Choi decided to bake that day, and since my mother has a sweet tooth, she was always more than eager to send me over to the Chois to help them out. San’s parents' business trip was successful and they managed to expand their branches to the North as well, which would require them frequent trips to Aurora Falls, which was the biggest human settlement in our country. It seemed that there were human investors who were eager to expand their businesses to the South, which would benefit them a lot since their franchises were mostly nonexistent around here. It was a day to celebrate, which the Chois were really good at doing. I knew they’d smuggle in some really expensive champagne tonight to the bonfire, after all, they did everything with grandeur.

My parents had been lounging around the front porch when the Chois's expensive SUV pulled up in front of our humble abode, my mother’s face had lit up like a Christmas tree as she came to welcome me home, and the Chois as well. After quick hugs and kisses, the Chois were off and I was left with my parents, who were smiling from ear to ear.

“Look at you!” My father had said as he engulfed me in a bear hug and spun me around, making me giggle into his chest, “You’re radiating, what are they feeding you at the Academy?”

“Mrs. Nam’s cooking is really delicious, but I don’t think it’s because of the food.” I giggled as my feet had finally touched the ground. My mother stood to the side, my duffle bag already in her hand as she shook her head at our antics, “I suspect it’s the clear air and the vast forest grounds.”

“You’re still running on your own?” My mother’s eyebrows had furrowed as I walked up to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders as we headed for the house. The rumble of a loud engine reached our ears as we took the steps up the porch. I knew whose car it was, it was hard to miss when nobody else’s car engine was as loud as the Song twins, “Mrs. Song told me her sons had proposed to go on runs with you, but you’ve turned them down each time. I know we’re all still adjusting to living in a pack, but having company on your runs is actually very healthy for you and your wolf, my dear.”

I wished to correct my mother that it had been Mingi who had proposed to come on runs with me, no mention of Yunho. We had crossed paths once while we were both out hunting during a full moon and because my cramps had been really bad that day, Mingi was nice enough to remain a respectable distance away and guide me for the night, keeping an eye out for other not-so-kind predators. There were months when my shifting went a little haywire during the full moon, my senses dull and my bones all miss shaped. Again, the doctors hadn’t found anything wrong with me, they suspected it was due to my early blooming, which wasn’t helping much. As we reached the front door, my father already opening it for us, the honk of a loud car made us turn back and look towards the orange Jeep, its windows rolled down, and the younger Song siblings cooped up in the backseat.

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Byun!” Mingi called from the driver’s seat, all smiles as his glasses looked to be slipping off his nose. Wooyoung was just as enthusiastic as he leaned out the window, the car going at a slow pace now that they had almost reached their house.

“See you tonight, right?!” Wooyoung shouted as he grinned widely, pointing specifically at me, “Can’t leave Sannie on his own, right?!”

“Right.” My voice didn’t have much force to it as my eyes stalled on Yunho, who was facing the windshield, his jaw set tight as he looked at Mingi and said something inaudible. I released a quiet sigh as we stepped through the doorway, my parents sharing a laugh at the siblings' antics. I tried to ignore the lump in my throat, the fire in my veins, the ache of my heart. Yunho’s hurtful words were still too fresh in my mind, the look in his eyes and the vivid image of his body a constant image in the front of my mind. It wasn’t surprising that I was still thinking about him. We had encountered each other just last night, after all, but I wished we never had. It was hard to ignore the yearning, especially when we were back at home, forced to visit the Songs weekly since our parents had grown so close with each other. I was happy for them, don’t misunderstand me, but I wished the Song parents stopped blaming my ‘loneliness’ on being an only child, thus forcing me to constantly hang out with their children. I didn’t have any issues with the five of them, per se, but I hardly found anything I had in common with them—minus Yunho, since he wouldn’t even look my way, let alone have a conversation with me.

“You should tell San to sleep over tonight, maybe his parents can stay too!” My father’s words distracted me from my thoughts as I headed for the stairs, eager to fall into my comfortable bed, no Yeri to disturb my peace this time.

“Honey, they had barely returned home, let the Chois enjoy having their son home for at least three more days.” My mother gently chastised my father as she headed up the stairs after me, my duffle bag still in her hand, “He’ll sleep over before they go back to the Academy.”

“Fine, but I found a really cool book about genealogy, I’m sure he’d love reading through it.”

“Sure, honey, sure.” My mother and I shared an amused look which made us chuckle, my father’s mumbled words blending into the background as he was headed for his study room, surely eager to get back to whatever book he was reading this time, “Get some sleep before lunch, Mama Song asked us to head over before they set the bonfire, she’s making a new mushroom stew recipe she’d like us to try.”

“Yeah, okay,” I mumbled as I fell face-first into my pillows, groaning loudly as my muscles finally eased up, my body cocooned in the safety of my own scent. Finally, a little peace of mind.

But that peace of mind didn’t last for long. The Song household was buzzing with life and laughter even before the other members of our community had started joining the bonfire. The mushroom stew was beyond delicious, and if I wasn’t too shy, I would’ve asked for a second plate but decided I could sneak in sometime during the evening and have a second plate, I knew Mrs. Song wouldn’t mind since she was generous like that. Lunch went surprisingly well, mostly with everyone talking over each other, especially Wooyoung, Yeri, and Mr. Song, but that was to be expected. The Songs were very eccentric people and their household had always been chaotic. However, what did take me by surprise was the presence of a newcomer, someone who wasn’t a werewolf. Her hair was dark and fell in long curls, her skin pale and her eyes very sharp, her lips the colour of blood and her stance very elegant. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought she hated us, but anytime Mingi looked at her she’d smile at him and her heartbeat would waver whenever he laughed. It wasn’t hard to guess that she was the Petrova heir, the youngest vampire of the Bae’s. Knowing so much about them, thanks to my father, sitting at a table with her now felt surreal.

She didn’t look like she wanted to talk much, but when my father’s innocent curiosity got the best of him and he started asking questions, she seemed rather pleased that she could gloat about her family. Her tone was sharp and she spoke rather straightforwardly, yet it was somehow obvious she didn’t mean bad. She was a peculiar person and I felt immense respect for her, no real reason as to why, maybe it’s because I thought she was very cool. I wasn’t brave enough to speak to her, so, besides stolen glances and a few shared glances, no words passed between the two of us. Besides, she was an amazing distraction to preoccupy my busy mind since conveniently Yunho and I ended up sitting next to each other. His body was warm, his scent almost tangible, and with every bite I took of my stew, it felt as if Yunho’s sandalwood scent was deep in my throat, forcing me to gulp down copious amounts of water as if I was sitient all the time. Yunho sat rigidly next to me, his body mostly turned away from me and facing Dahyun, his youngest sister, who looked absent-minded as she played with her fork, occasionally staring at Mingi if he made the vampire girl laugh. She carried Mingi’s scent and a bite mark was visible on her nape, it wasn’t hard to guess what she and Mingi were. Mates.

Thankfully, after lunch was over, San shortly arrived too and I could escape from the Song family, from Yunho, walking around the back garden as we searched for timber that would be good for the bonfire. Wooyoung, of course, came to join us and Dahyun was quick to do so too, with Mingi and Yunho busy setting up the back garden as our parents all helped. The vampire girl was busy in the kitchen, apparently, she could bake really yummy muffins, so she was busy doing just that. Once everything was set and people were coming over, Wooyoung sneaked off to bring us cans of beer, San cheering as we all uncapped ours, clinking them together loudly. The cold sparkling drink burned my parched throat as I wolfed it down, making San chuckle as Wooyoung was busy checking his friend’s free hand for splinters. I said nothing as a blush covered San’s cheeks, his eyes fond, as Wooyoung fussed about his friend.

“Mom said she’d leave us a little bit of champagne,” San grinned as he switched the hand holding his can of beer, Wooyoung’s eyebrows furrowed as his fingers gently traced San’s free palm, “It’ll be in the highest cupboard.”

“Only Mingi and Yunho can reach that high, though,” Wooyoung mumbled with a pout, still holding onto San’s hand despite being done with his inspection. I chuckled as San gave Wooyoung a look, his chest almost puffing out more.

“Are you sure about that?” He raised a straight eyebrow, leaning closer to Wooyoung’s face. I watched with intrigue as Wooyoung slightly caved in on himself, gulping almost nervously. His heartbeat remained steady, though, so I couldn’t tell for sure whether San’s proximity made him nervous, “Who got that stuck ball off the basket last time, I don’t reckon it was your brothers?”

“Well,” Wooyoung huffed, averting his eyes when San only leaned closer. I almost grinned when Wooyoung’s heart very loudly skipped a beat, but his eyebrows furrowed as he swiftly straightened himself, giving San a pointed look, “You can jump high. And I suppose you have strong arms, it was sheer luck, really.”

Before the two could start bickering, I chuckled and reached a hand out towards Wooyoung, “Won’t you check my hands for blisters too?”

Wooyoung seemed a little bit too eager to scurry off the log he was sharing with San as he kneeled in front of me, taking my hand into his. I chuckled and looked at San as I took a swing of my beer, Wooyoung’s warm fingers tracing lines as he hummed under his breath, turning my palm over, “You have pretty hands, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” I said, then switched my hands as Wooyoung continued to inspect them, a flush appearing on his face when San reached out to pet his hair since it was tousled by the wind earlier. It had settled now into a pleasant evening breeze. The chatter, music, and laughter coming from around the bonfire felt nice, warm. As I gazed at the fire, I was greeted by the sight of werewolves cosying up and sharing drinks and stories. I’ve never had this in the big city, it felt really nice to be surrounded by creatures that had your back even if they didn’t know you well.

Wooyoung chuckled, his finger digging into my skin, right underneath my pinkie, “Yunho has the same exact moles here too, on the same hand as well.”

My body froze as San’s eyebrows raised, he quickly scurried off the log to join Wooyoung crouching in front of me. I tried to keep the smile on my face, but the taste in my mouth soured as I looked down at the three moles that I’ve always had on my left palm, right underneath my pinkie finger.

“Really?” San sounded surprised and excited at the same time, “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Wooyoung scoffed as he gave San a side glance, “He’s my brother, I know him. He’s always said that they look like stars. Before our sisters were born, he’d said they represented him, Mingi, and me. Of course, the closest to the one he called himself was Mingi because they are twins and blah blah, sometimes this twin thing gets old.”

“You’re just jealous.” San teased Wooyoung as my eyes were stuck on the three moles, something in my stomach dropping. I’ve always said the three dots looked like stars and represented my family: my mom, my father, and me. We’d always be there for each other, close by, looking over one another. Wooyoung and San’s voices drowned out as they started bickering about whether Mingi and Yunho had a deeper bond than any other werewolf due to them being twins, but my mind was spinning with this new piece of information. It suddenly felt wrong having those moles there, especially since Yunho didn’t want to have to do anything with me. I gulped, retracting my hand from Wooyoung’s hold as I stood abruptly, taking the two guys off guard.

“Uhm, I’ll just see what my parents are up to if you don’t mind…” I knew my scent had soured, San’s furrowed eyebrows told me he had realised something had upset me. But I just smiled and patted Wooyoung’s head before I walked around my friends, my heart slightly racing as the chilly evening seemed to bite at my nose, making me sniff harder and harder by the time I reached my parents, who were talking to the Academy’s Principal, Mr. Kim.

“Oh, Miss Byun,” The Principal was the first one to spot me, and he smiled as my parents beckoned me even closer, “I was just complimenting you. Ever since Miss Yeri started rooming with you, her grades not only went up but she’s been better behaved too.”

“Oh, uhm, that’s great.” I tried to even out my expression, praying that my parents wouldn’t question my souring mood, “I didn’t do much, just asked her to follow some rules. She also asked if I could sometimes help her out with her homework.”

“Fascinating,” The Principal muttered as my parents looked at me proudly, making me feel a little bit shy, “I knew letting her room with Miss Son wasn’t too smart, those two gave me more headache than the ruling board does on the daily.”

The Principal’s comment had my parents laughing, the shared glance between them amused, and suddenly I realised I’d never have that. I would never have a mate that stood by my side, cosied up to me, spoke to me about whatever insanity crossed their minds, no shared understanding glances, no cheek or neck nuzzles, no unbreakable bond, nothing. My jaw tightened as the air spiked with sandalwood and vanilla, and I hoped it would pass by before the tears could spring into my eyes. But the Universe seemed to be working against me today because the Principal caught Yunho’s bicep before he could stalk off, his expression soft and his eyes questioning. He hadn’t noticed my presence yet, because I knew his round eyes would turn harsh and his pouty lips would pull into a straight line the second he noticed me. His outgrown hair was tousled by the breeze, long strands framing his face handsomely as they brushed against his nape, some strands darker than the others.

“Mr. Song, fancy seeing you.” The Principal patted Yunho’s strong back with a proud smile, “I was just telling Mr. and Mrs. Byun how your little sister has been improving both academically and behaviour-wise too.”

“Oh,” Yunho’s pale cheeks flushed with colour as he slightly bowed, I could see my parents practically fawn over him. He was handsome, too handsome, everyone around here was in love with him whether they wanted to be or not, “I know my siblings give you a lot of headaches, but if it helps, you’ll have to deal with fewer of us after this year.”

The Principal laughed as he shook his head, “Between you and me, I’d rather have you and Mingi attend the Academy for five more years than your younger siblings, although Dahyun is a sweet girl despite being odd.”

Even if the comment wasn’t well received by Yunho, his left eye twitched slightly and his smile looked a bit forced all of a sudden, he just chuckled and bowed his head again, “They’ll mature with time, Mingi and I did too.”

“Indeed, that is true.” Then the Principal was suddenly facing me, and I noticed the way Yunho’s eyes slightly widened as if he actually hadn’t noticed me standing just a few feet away, “You’d be surprised to hear that Yunho was unstoppable as a child, we had to sedate him more than once during his runs. He also struggled to shift back until he became ten, isn’t that peculiar?”

Before Yunho could interject, however, my mother spoke up to my horror, “My daughter still struggles to shift, being an early bloomer is really straining.”

“I’m not an early bloomer, though.” Yunho’s tone was a bit harsher, but I bet nobody noticed but me as his eyes bore into mine, his face void of any emotion. I sighed and looked away, trying to push the image of his exposed collarbones due to his unbuttoned shirt out of my head. His cheeks seemed unnaturally pink, he must’ve used some blush before coming down for the bonfire.

“Sometimes when mates—”

“I think we should leave the younglings alone, no?” My father cut the Principal off with a charming smile as I looked at him, slightly taken aback. Nobody knew Yunho and I were supposed to be mates, not even Yunho, I hadn’t told a soul. I doubt my father knows, he must’ve misinterpreted Yunho and my exchange as I winced and he just cleared his throat, sounding uncomfortable. Then, without wasting another second, my father was rushing us towards the bonfire, my mother laughing at something the Principal said as I turned to look at my dad. He was smiling gently and winked when he caught my stare, making me question whether he truly was oblivious to whether I had already found my mate or not. Yunho and I marched towards the bonfire wordlessly, and I flinched when I felt his warm knuckles brush against the back of my hand, but almost as if it was a fragment of my imagination, Yunho was beelining it towards a log on which a girl I didn’t know sat, next to her Yeri with a bored expression on her face.

“Yunho!” The unknown girl called out, making grabby hands at him. I watched as Yunho grinned and sat next to her, leaning into her space as the girl instantly flushed. My stomach coiled as I averted my eyes towards the fire, feeling its warmth slowly seep into my bones, but my muscles didn’t ease up, they remained tense.

“Did you miss me, baby?” I tried not to whine as my wolf told me to pounce on the girl and drag her into the forest and show her what happens to those who touch Yunho, but I would’ve looked completely insane if I had done that. Yunho wasn’t done speaking, however, and I felt eyes on me which made my skin crawl, “I got held up, but I’m all yours now.”

I tried not to feel sick as I chanced a glance towards Yunho, who was looking at me with a smirk. I could feel tears threatening to appear in my eyes, I didn’t want to look pathetic, however, Yeri seemed to save me from the shame, “Dude, did you get me a beer?”

“Of course, I did.” Yunho chuckled, finally looking away from me, “Just don’t tell mom or Wooyoung.”

“I won’t, chill out.” Yeri scoffed as she opened her can of beer, grinning to herself in triumph, “My room is yours tonight, then.”

They shared a look and I released a shaky breath as I had decided that I needed a moment away from everything. I knew everyone could smell my spiked scent and hear my heart thudding in an uneven rhythm, I didn’t want them staring at me, so I quickly hurried inside the house and headed for the kitchen hoping it was deserted. Maybe I’d find that bottle of champagne San was talking about and help myself to it, I knew nobody would mind. The kitchen was dark when I stepped through the archway, so I quickly felt around the wall for the light switch and gasped when light flooded the kitchen. When I got too into my head, I completely missed other scents or heartbeats around me, otherwise the vampire girl wouldn’t have taken me off guard. She tilted her head and raised an amused eyebrow as she nibbled on a cherry.

“Did I scare you?” She asked, her tone still cold, “I thought werewolves have heightened senses too.”

“Uh, we do.” I muttered as I walked further inside the kitchen, “I was distracted.”

“Why is that?” The girl asked, looking curious as her expression slightly shifted.

“No reason.” I lied as I opened a cupboard and grabbed a tall glass.

“Are you drinking wine?” She looked surprised as I walked to the cupboard I knew the champagne was hidden in, “Can I have some too?”

I paused and considered her question for a second, then shrugged, “Sure, but it’s champagne.”

“Good, I like that more.” She smirked as she grabbed a tall glass too, then approached me. She was cold, she lacked the warmth werewolves emanated, but her scent was oddly not exactly hers. I studied her from my peripheral as I got on my tiptoes and grabbed the bottle of champagne. I had been around the Songs for long enough to know them by scent, and she very strongly reeked of Mingi. There was no further information needed to know they really were mated if only someone failed to notice her bite mark. The vampire girl said nothing as I opened the bottle of champagne, mindful of leaving some for San and Wooyoung as I poured the bubbly drink for the vampire before for myself. I could feel her eyes on me, studying me closely, and then she hummed, leaning her hip against the counter, “I might not be a werewolf, but you absolutely stink. Don’t get me wrong, all werewolves do besides Mingi, but your scent is very bothersome right now.”

I gulped, feeling my cheeks heating up as I placed the bottle of champagne back into the cupboard. Getting told that you stink certainly wasn’t very nice, but I knew firsthand that werewolves had distinctive scents, perhaps vampires weren’t too fond of it. Not that I knew much about vampires, there were few in Colourful River and they seemed to frolic more with the humans since they were their blood bags. Still, her comment only worsened my mood as I handed her one of the glasses, trying not to grimace.

“Sorry, I’ll try to keep it down next time,” I muttered over the rim of my glass, and then I took a bigger gulp than necessary. The vampire girl watched me with a raised eyebrow as she took a small sip, savouring the sweet taste unlike me. I didn’t like the amused glint in her eyes, it felt as if she was looking down on me, but I really wasn’t up for a confrontation right now.

“As much as I would love to insult you right now,” My eyes widened as the vampire girl sighed, “Over the past year I learned that when your scent turns sour, or just becomes really unbearable to me, it means that you’re upset. So, I didn’t mean to further upset you, I’m just not very good at understanding how werewolves function.”

I chuckled under my breath as my next words escaped before I could stop myself, “Funny you say that when you’re surrounded by werewolves only right now. Why do you even hang around us if you can’t stand us?”

Despite expecting harsh words as an answer to my jab, the vampire looked dejected as she leaned back into the counter, sighing loudly as she averted her eyes, “If it wasn’t for Mingi and I being—mates, then I certainly wouldn’t be here. When I was young, I had a really bad encounter with a rogue wolf and I have hated you all ever since, but I can’t deny the pull I feel towards Mingi, it’s weird, but it’s there. And when I had tried ignoring it, it had hurt the both of us, so I’m here now, trying to still embrace the fact that now I’m part of this pack that I’ve hated my whole life and of the family that’s been getting on my nerves ever since they moved to Nocturnal Parade.”

I hummed in surprise and took another sip of my drink, now suddenly understanding why the Song twins had reacted with disdain when I had brought up the Petrova family a year ago, I assume she and Mingi weren’t together yet then.

“It must’ve been hard accepting Mingi, then.” The girl’s cold exterior slowly melted away as she looked at me with surprise. I suppose she had been judged by many for her prejudices, but didn’t everyone have some? I couldn’t completely blame her for them, “Seeing a werewolf and a vampire together isn’t uncommon, but I haven’t heard of them being mated before. Do you mind if I ask how that happened?”

The vampire chuckled as she turned her head towards the window, gazing out as she took another sip of her champagne, “We were drunk and had sex. I, apparently, bit Mingi where his scent gland is and triggered his imprinting. It feels weird to think about it, that maybe we would’ve never ended up together otherwise, but I don’t think that’s true. I think I had always liked Mingi, my hatred had just gotten in the way of me realising my true feelings for him.”

I hummed, gaining a new perspective on their relationship. I have heard bits and pieces from Yeri, even Wooyoung sometimes, but Mingi’s younger sister was mostly speaking ill of the Petrova girl. Yeri didn’t like the vampire at all and never failed to go on angry rants about how much she wanted to rip Mingi’s mate apart, but she couldn’t because she’d been accepted by the family, so the vampire girl was now untouchable. Speaking to the vampire, however, wasn’t as awful as Yeri made me think it would be. She faced me again, her head tilted as she looked at me with a curious expression on her face.

“What’s your story? I don’t think we had spoken before, right?” She asked as I shook my head, plastering on a small smile.

“We moved here a year ago, the big city just wasn’t for us anymore.” I shrugged, then traced the edge of the counter with my finger as I averted my eyes from the vampire, “Nothing is interesting about me, I think I’m just a regular, boring, werewolf. I did make a friend, though, it’s Choi San, if you know him?”

“Of course, I do,” The vampire scoffed, rolling her eyes as if hearing my best friend’s name was irritating to her, “Wooyoung never shuts up about him, if I wouldn’t have known better, I’d suspect he’s in love with San.”

That caught my attention as I perked up, subconsciously leaning closer to the vampire. It felt as if she was wearing a patch of Mingi’s familiar scent, it was almost endearing if it wouldn’t have reminded me of the fact that I’d never have this with Yunho, “Really? You think Wooyoung is in love with San?”

The girl chuckled, looking at me with a smirk, “I wouldn’t want to assume such a thing, but you must know Wooyoung is very irritating, so he only settles down when I threaten to tell San he’s always gushing about him behind his back. That must mean something, no?”

I bit my lower lip, buzzing with excitement at the prospect of Wooyoung returning San’s feelings. However, I’d have to trade forward with this information very smartly, I didn’t want to ruin something that apparently had so much potential. I only wanted to see San happy with the person he loved with his whole might.

“I hope it means something,” I muttered into my glass as I took another sip, making the vampire girl’s eyes gain a mischievous glint. I hoped she wouldn’t say anything that would set back the two boys' relationship, but maybe I had finally gained an insider who could help me give tips to San to push their relationship a step forward.

“Interesting,” She mumbled as she took another sip as well, raising an eyebrow, “What about you, though? I know you’re rooming with Yeri, for which you have my condolences, but you’re connected to this family in more ways, right?”

I felt my palms sweat all of a sudden, “What do you mean?”

“I have sharp eyes, and very sensitive hearing. What’s between you and Yun—”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.” I would’ve looked guilty even to a newcomer by how quick I was to shut down the vampire’s question and assumption, she hadn’t even fully spelled Yunho’s name yet. I gulped, feeling my heartbeat pick up, then I averted my eyes and hoped she would just drop the subject…but she didn’t.

“It’s not my place to say what I’m about to say next, but be careful.” My eyebrows furrowed as I dared take a peek at her from between my eyelashes, “The Song twins aren’t bad creatures, they really aren’t, but Yunho is…a jackass, simply put. He’s dated Seulgi, my friend, and things were really messy between them. I hear now he’s messing around with a girl who finished the Academy last year, I just don’t want to see you end up like Seulgi. You seem like a genuine werewolf, kind-hearted too, I would hate to see Yunho destroy it all. It’s not my place at all, I know, but maybe just let it be? Maybe it’s better if you’re not meant to be, you know?”

But we are meant to be, I wanted to say it, I wanted to snap at her, but she knew better. If she could see it, a complete outsider, then who was I to correct her? She had known Yunho for longer than me, she probably didn’t have any bad intentions by warning me, but it still hurt. I gulped and downed the last of my champagne, knowing that my scent had soured once again. I came here to escape everything that was Yunho, yet, he was the subject once again. I hated it, but I couldn’t do anything about it. As long as the both of us lived in this town, Yunho would somehow always be the subject, he was too popular and well-liked by the others.

“No, you’re right, I—” I paused when I realised I sounded shaky, “I don’t even like him, don’t worry. I know the type of guy he is, I won’t mingle with him. I’m glad you found Mingi, his scent is all over you, by the way.”

The vampire blushed all of a sudden, it surprised me, but I was glad I had successfully diverted the subject from Yunho. She had a fond look on her face as she tried to save herself with a loud scoff, downing her champagne quickly, “Mingi isn’t too possessive, but since I don’t have a scent as you guys do, he’s scenting me all the time. It was annoying at the beginning, but he wouldn’t stop, so, I just had to accept the fact that everyone would know I was with him now. It’s kind of endearing, but don’t let him know, please! His ego is already through the roof.”

I chuckled, wondering what she was talking about because Mingi was one of the nicest creatures I had ever met. We weren’t very close, but he always stopped to talk to me if we crossed paths in the hallways, and during the summer break, he’d even come over sometimes with baked goods, eager to discuss whatever book he’d lately read. I liked Mingi, he was nice to me and my family, sometimes perhaps too nice. Silence settled between the vampire girl and me, so I decided it was my time to excuse myself and join San and Wooyoung in the back garden once again. Surprisingly, I felt more at ease after speaking to the Petrova girl, I had always thought she was intimidating and too cold, but she was a lot nicer than I have been told. I cleared my throat and pointed towards the archway, an awkward smile making it onto my face.

“I’ll head back outside if you don’t mind.” But as I took off, she called out for me to stop.

“Wait,” The vampire cleared her throat and looked a bit embarrassed as she dug into her pocket, her lips pursed as she avoided making eye contact, “So, uhm, Dahyun forced me today to make some shitty bracelets with her and, honestly, I can’t give this shit to any of my friends, they aren’t werewolves.”

I quirked an eyebrow as she took her hand out of her pocket, then extended it towards me without meeting my eyes. Her palm opened and a simple, but pretty, brown leather bracelet sat in it. I chuckled, reaching for it with an amused smile. The bracelet was braided and it had a cute wood wolf charm, it looked like it was howling upon closer inspection. I was just about to make a playful comment about it when I noticed a very similar bracelet peeking out from underneath the sleeve of her blouse. The only difference was that the leather was a lighter brown than mine, so, I swallowed down my comment and instead looked at her with a big smile.

“Thank you!” It oddly felt like a friendship offer too, but I didn’t want to get too ahead of myself. Maybe she just genuinely didn’t want to give it to her other friends, maybe she was embarrassed to do so, “It’s really pretty.”

“Whatever,” The vampire grumbled as she lowered her hand, fidgeting with her bracelet absentmindedly, “That little animal forced me to—not that I’m calling Dahyun an animal, or other werewolves, I—well.”

I laughed quietly as I wore the bracelet, looking at it for a longer second before I grinned at the Petrova girl, “Don’t worry, I get what you’re saying. We are animals, after all, and since you’ve already brought that up, please be a little nicer to Yeri, I can’t keep listening to her whine about you.”

“I hate that brat.” The vampire scowled, but quickly caught herself, “I mean, sure, I’ll try to be nicer…sort of.”

I chuckled and raised my hand to wriggle my wrist, the wolf charm moving around, “Friends, maybe?”

The vampire seemed to think for a second before she smiled, a real smile that reached her sharp eyes too, “Yeah, friends.”

I felt rather happy as I left the kitchen, fulfilled even, that I had managed to befriend another creature, and this was the Petrova, well now Bae, heir on top of it all. It made me feel excited as I hurried out of the house, planning to tell San and even Wooyoung, but I almost collided with two creatures once out on the porch. The girl's giggles became quiet as my wide eyes stared up into Yunho’s equally surprised ones, but then, his grip tightened around the girl’s waist and he was suddenly manoeuvring themselves around me, a dark look crossing Yunho’s features. I gulped, my heart racing as I heard the girl mutter something about me to Yunho, and then both were laughing. It was fine, I was alright. Yunho was free to do however he pleased, he didn’t owe me anything, no explanations or promises. But my wolf howled inside my mind, a harsh ache suddenly hitting my insides, freezing me into my spot for a second as I gasped for air. I wondered if this exact feeling was the same as the vampire and Mingi had experienced when they tried ignoring their bond. If yes, it made me wonder how was I strong enough to still be going and acting as if Yunho wasn’t my mate, as if his ignorance wasn’t slowly killing me on the inside. All I wanted was to crumble to the ground and let the sobs wreck my body, but instead, I tried to clear my mind and find San’s scent to cosy up with him, burry my pain deep down, and revel in the safety my best friend had always offered me.

But as I finally reached my best friend, he was sitting by the bonfire with a very drunk Wooyoung stuck to his side, arms around San’s middle as his head was pressed into San’s collarbones. We made eye contact and San’s eyes were sparkling with elation and something else as he gestured with his head subtly at Wooyoung, so I knew I couldn’t bother them. I didn’t want to ruin their moment, I could basically smell just how happy, and drunk, San was. I would’ve been a terrible friend if I had walked up to them just to mop around without telling them the real reason for my displeasure, so I decided to just head home for the night. The champagne had left my blood buzzing, and even though I wasn’t tipsy, I knew how my night would end. I’d bury myself deep underneath my pillows and blanket and cry myself to sleep, letting out my wails since nobody would be able to hear me. My parents wouldn’t return for a few more hours, so I could just wallow in misery as loudly as I wanted to. But to leave, I had to grab my jacket first, which was in Wooyoung’s room courtesy to San who had thrown our jackets somewhere on his bed.

The house was silent as I made my way back inside, the kitchen dark once again, and since I couldn’t hear a second heartbeat, I knew the vampire girl had left, probably, to find Mingi. I realised I was fiddling with the wolf charm as I made my way up the stairs, my body covered in goosebumps for no reason. I had been inside this house multiple times, I knew where everything was, but for some reason, my intuition was telling me to turn around and just go home without my jacket. My wolf was basically whimpering in my mind, trying to convince me to turn around as I stepped off the last stair, ears picking up on a faint noise. The hallway wasn’t too narrow but it was long, and Wooyoung’s room was next to the upstairs bathroom, across from Yeri’s. The scents were so mingled up here that I couldn’t tell whether anyone was upstairs, so I just hoped I didn’t run into anyone because I wasn’t capable of conversing right now. I felt spent, upset, and heartbroken at the same time. I knew this would happen, I’d get ignored by Yunho once again, but it still stung each time it happened, I thought I had gotten used to it. Maybe I was reacting this badly because he had insulted me last night as well, and now his actions from tonight were also bugging me.

The faint noises got louder the closer I got to Wooyoung’s room, and with slight terror, I realised they sounded like hushed whispers and muffled moans. Glancing towards Yeri’s room, the door had been left slightly ajar, and despite dread filling my stomach, I found myself walking towards it, eyebrows furrowed once I picked up on a foreign citrusy scent. That, however, was the least of my worries as Yunho’s intoxicating sandalwood and vanilla scent carried through the air in intense pumps, twisting something in my lower stomach, and making my mouth go dry. It was so intoxicating that I found myself creeping towards the door, my breath baited and my hands slightly trembling as my wolf whined at me to barge inside and let Yunho have us, ravish us. But the small crack left by the door being ajar was enough for me to see inside the dim room, making my heart drop in seconds. The girl Yunho had been hanging out with all night was on her knees in front of Yunho as he sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands as his mouth hung open, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes squeezed shut as low moans left his swollen lips. I couldn’t pry my eyes away from Yunho’s face despite the sudden urge to cry as my wolf howled loudly, making my blood boil now that I knew for sure others could have Yunho like this. At a particularly high-pitched moan, Yunho’s eyes snapped open and found mine through the crack of the door, making me gasp loudly as I jumped back, feeling disgusted and full of rage at the same time. It wasn’t fair of Yunho to constantly push me away, whether he knew I was his mate or not, and it wasn’t fair that he could easily mess around with others while I was forced to suffer and watch him from afar. I didn’t stall any longer, I was out of the house before I could hear more of the sounds they were making, Yunho’s strong scent burning my throat even the next morning.

            The Spring Break passed by in a frenzy, and I had barely gotten any rest while I was home for the week. Every invite to the Songs I had turned down, disgusted at the thought of facing Yunho after everything. I didn’t want to see him, I didn’t want to hear him, I didn’t want to smell him. I had made up my mind. If he didn’t want me, I wouldn’t want him either anymore. I have yearned enough after someone I’d never have, so, I decided what’s enough is enough. I knew the change wouldn’t happen overnight, especially when my wolf snarled at me anytime I pushed the thought of Yunho away, whining loudly whenever he came up in a conversation. My wolf wasn’t happy with my decision, but I was the one in control, and I was done being hurt all the time. I missed the serenity I once had before meeting Yunho and the rest of the Songs, but if finally living the life my parents had always wished for came with the price of finding an unrequited mate, then I could live with that for now. Perhaps if I went far enough from here then the bond would somehow finally completely break. I could only hope that was the case and I wouldn’t get somehow incurably sick, I’ve heard of it happening before, and it scared me.

Today had been a long day, I felt tired and my back muscles were aching from having been sitting all day long, my brain sore from having been paying close attention in my classes. My notebooks were filled with notes, there was not a second to rest now that we were back at the Academy. San and I had wandered on our own paths sometime during the afternoon, his classes different from mine, besides, I knew he liked working out before going for his run, where he’d most probably be joined by Wooyoung. He had texted me asking whether I wanted to join the two of them, but I had politely declined. San knew I liked being on my own, so he never pushed me if I wasn’t feeling up to it. I always enjoyed my runs more on the Academy grounds than back at home, because here the forest was large and I rarely ran into other wolves while being out there. At home, the boundaries were clearly fenced in, to keep us from wandering too far into the Haunted Woods and getting lost. Other creatures than us, more ferocious ones, lurked deep in the forest, and some of us from Nocturnal Parade had never returned once they ventured too far in.

I knew I couldn’t go back to the shed, especially not now, out of fear of running into Yunho. And as if the Universe was laughing at me today, the way my wolf started purring before the scent even hit my nose should’ve been a clear sign to turn around and go the other way towards the campus, on the backroads where not many liked walking. It was a good spot for the Fae to hide away and drink in nature’s powers, so most of us kept clear of it to offer them privacy. I knew they wouldn’t mind if I stumbled upon them, and I’d rather face their wrath than run into Yunho right now. As I rounded the corner, I stopped walking just in time to avoid crashing into Yunho’s larger body. He gasped and pressed a hand against his chest, gulping almost too loudly. I didn’t look at him as I averted my eyes, nor said anything despite my wolf trying to nudge me towards Yunho. I just tried to step around him and hurry towards the entrance. However, something very unexpected happened. Yunho’s low voice sounded unsure, almost, a little breathy as well.

“Are you headed for a run right now?” My body froze upon hearing Yunho’s question, and I tried to fight every particle of my body from stepping closer to him when his sandalwood scent called out to me. It was deeper, more earthy than ever before, and my wolf was purring so loudly it echoed in my ears as if it were real.

“Yes.” My answer was short, but before I could leave, Yunho followed up with another question.

“May I join you?” He sounded more confident this time, I could feel his eyes on me as my eyebrows furrowed.

What? I gulped, trying to keep my heartbeat even as his question echoed in my mind. Why now? Why did he want to join me on my run all of a sudden? Why was he even talking to me? Why was he acknowledging me? Without even realising it, I had started fiddling with the wolf charm of my bracelet, finding courage as I raised my head and looked into his chocolate brown eyes.

“No.” Yunho’s face became blank as he gulped again, his left eye slightly twitching, “I don’t like going on runs with others.”

Yunho was silent for another second as I raised my eyebrow at him, challengingly. What did he want? His tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he huffed, a cynical smile crossing his features, “I see.”

I hummed, fingers tightening around the charm as I was displeased with his reaction, but I didn’t say anything as I nodded once, stepping around him this time to resume my walk. But, once again, Yunho spoke up before I could leave.

“Have you done the assignment? For our Literature class.” Just what was he on? My eyebrows furrowed again as I looked at him confused, Yunho slightly turned his body to face mine since I was standing next to him.

“Yes, we were supposed to hand it in before the Spring Break.” I knew my tone was sharp as I deadpanned, but I couldn’t help myself. Yunho had never spoken to me like this before, let alone asked about a run or an assignment. If he stumbled into me on accident, he wouldn’t even apologise, so this whole interaction was bizarre, “Why? Have you not done yours?”

“I have.” Yunho’s eyes narrowed then, slowly trailing down my body until it stopped on my wrist. I shivered and hid my arm behind my back as if I had done something I wasn’t allowed to, my wolf whispered at me that I was wearing something that hadn’t always belonged to me, “Are you—did Mingi give you something of his?”

Once again, what? I huffed, closing my eyes for a second as I could feel irritation seep through my body. It wasn’t just my scent souring, Yunho’s sandalwood got replaced by the vanilla, which didn’t smell as sweet as usual, “No, why would he?”

But Yunho didn’t answer as his jaw tightened, his eyes switching between mine before they fell back down to my wrist as if he were trying to see through the sleeve of my jacket. His long hair was tousled, almost as if he had been running his fingers through it too often, and his cheeks were covered in a coral blush and littered with fake freckles. His nails were painted yellow this time and they matched the neon yellow of his bomber jacket, which seemed to hide a purple mesh shirt underneath. A blue tie hung loosely around his neck, and his jeans had daisies stamped on his thighs. He looked amazing, even if peculiar, he made my wolf purr in a dreamy way that had me move slightly towards him, hoping that he hadn’t noticed since he was still busy staring at my wrist, which I was still hiding behind my back.

“Are you lying to me right now?” Yunho’s tone had turned a tad bit aggressive, and suddenly, I found him all up in my face, closing the distance between us with an alarming speed. My heart skipped a beat and my wolf leered at Yunho’s actions, whispering sweet nothings into my ear, distracting me for a second from Yunho’s sudden, and unwarranted, fury.

“What is your problem, Yunho?” Despite craving to touch him and nuzzle into the crook of his neck, I pushed through the sudden lustful haze and made my anger apparent. That seemed to catch Yunho off guard as his expression fell a bit, his eyebrows furrowing as he gulped, opening his mouth before he closed it again, seemingly not knowing how to answer my question. I scoffed, gave him a fierce glare, and ignored my wolf’s whimpers when I stepped back. Then I turned around to storm towards the exit. Where was all that audacity coming from?!

            It was a warm spring day, the sun had finally melted the last remnants of frostbite and dew, yet most students were cooped up in the Study Hall or Library, busy catching up with the projects and assignments they had procrastinated on so far. Perhaps going to the Library would’ve been a smarter choice since the cacophony of the grand room distracted me more than once from my coursework. Midterms were right around the corner and everyone was squeezing in study time even on the weekends, determined to memorise as much material as possible. Thankfully, I wasn’t behind in any of my classes but I still had to finish my Alchemy assignment, which was proving to be a headache. San was busy reading through his Anatomy notes and scribbling down even more information in his notebook as four different books were opened and strewn around him on the table. The sight made me chuckle, but I didn’t bother San as I knew he’d get anxious if he wasn’t able to finish checking all the materials he had proposed for himself to go over that day. He was quite literally a prodigy, yet he strived for even more perfection. I knew his whole future depended on his grades, but San was too smart for his own good…academically, at least.

As I jotted down another sentence about my failed experiment just from last night, Yeri’s chewing gum snapped loudly, making San flinch. He was so focused he didn’t even look up, but his eyebrows slightly furrowed. I peeked at Yeri from above my laptop and raised an eyebrow at her when I realised, she had been staring at me already. She sighed as she placed her chin in her palm, grimacing as the chewing gum had stuck to the corner of her lips. I chuckled as she quickly got rid of it, and cleared her throat.

“Do you think you’ll pass your Alchemy class this semester?” Yeri’s tone was deadpan, and it almost made me laugh. Maybe I should’ve gone to the Library where we weren’t allowed to speak much to each other, maybe then Yeri would’ve spared me from her brutally honest questions.

“I sure hope so,” I muttered as I searched for the right formula on the internet, which was much faster than flipping through old pages of books, trying to find the answer for my magick elixir.

“Will you have to retake your class if you fail?” Yeri pressed, genuinely interested all of a sudden.

“No, it would be the first time I failed this class, I’d just retake the final exam,” I explained as San hummed next to me, highlighting something with green in the book he had borrowed from the Library. I was sure he’d get a good scrutinising from the librarian for that.

“How many passes do I get before they fail me? Like the exams and shit.”

“Which class are you failing, Yeri?” San spoke up with an amused tone as he sneaked a glance at her. I chuckled as I found the formula, then copied it into my notebook before putting it into my slideshow.

“Don’t tell my brothers,” Yeri lowered her voice as she leaned over the table to be closer to San and me, “But I might be failing Literature this year.”

“Literature of all subjects?” San started laughing, prompting me to giggle as well. It was one of our easiest classes, trust Yeri to fail it. It seemed like the Songs were easily tricked by the easiest of tasks, Wooyoung was another prime example of that. He failed his Sports class last year, which should’ve physically been impossible for a werewolf…even all of the vampires had passed it.

“Stop making fun of me,” Yeri pouted as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, “Not everyone likes to read—I certainly don’t.”

“Well, you should from now on, or you’ll have to retake the whole class next year.” Yeri’s eyes widened at my inoffensive threat.

“Whatever,” She grumbled under her breath as her ears perked up, eyes looking around the room. San’s body seemed to tense too for a second before he relaxed, his ears tinged slightly red, “Don’t wait for me to come back to our room tonight.”

“Where are you going?” I felt like an older sister worrying about their younger sibling as my eyebrows furrowed. Yeri just rolled her eyes with a loud huff, eyes fixed on something behind me as she started smiling.

“I’m sleeping in Seungwannie’s room tonight.” I could hear footsteps approaching us rapidly.

“What about her roommate?” I asked as a familiar citrusy scent caught my attention, I didn’t have to turn around to know who was coming.

“She’ll be fine, we like her.” I chuckled as Yeri winked, and then her eyes settled on San, or rather who stood now next to him. Before any of us could react, Wooyoung leaned down and pressed a fat kiss against San’s cheek, unleashing a heavy thundering of heartbeats. I ignored San’s heartbeats as I smiled at Wooyoung, who looked embarrassed by his actions, but he was grinning sheepishly as he lowered his head.

“Hi!” He greeted us as San finally snapped out of his frozen state, giving Wooyoung a genuinely wide smile.

“Hello, Woo,” I said as the younger pulled out a chair and sat in it, dismissing Yeri when she stuck her tongue out at her brother. Wooyoung rested his chin in his palm, head tilted as he looked at San.

“Are you still studying?” Wooyoung’s tone was impatient as San’s sigh was exasperated. I chuckled under my breath and went back to my slide show, looking over it for the nth time, “I’m so bored, San, you promised to come back to my room with me and entertain me.”

“Oh, did you now, San?” Yeri grinned mischievously as she giggled, making Wooyoung’s eyes widen as he shot her an alarmed look. I watched the exchange wordlessly as San’s ears flushed a darker shade while he tried to make his body look even smaller as his wide shoulders hunched forward, “Does that form of entertainment involve—”

“Song Yeri.” Mingi’s tone was authoritative as Yeri’s eyes widened, lips pressing into a straight line. How have I missed them approaching? Yunho was directly looking at me, his soft and chocolate brown eyes drilling into my forehead as I quickly looked away, once again busy with my PowerPoint presentation, “Leave your brother and San alone, must you always be such a menace?”

“If they are idiots…” Yeri grumbled under her breath, and I watched curiously as both San and Wooyoung looked away, blushing and their hearts skipping a beat. I suppose it won’t take them much longer to finally come to terms that they like each other, Wooyoung’s been rather reactive lately around San, it was certainly fun to watch. What wasn’t fun at all, however, was Yunho’s unrelenting stare and his scrunched nose as he sniffed at the air.

“Hello, Y/N.” I didn’t expect the vampire girl to speak to me, she even had a smile on her face as my round eyes fell on her. It was a small smile, but it was there. I watched the people around us turn around surprised as they looked between me and the Petrova girl. I smiled and waved at her, the small wolf charm swishing around on my wrist. I didn’t miss Yunho’s eyes instantly falling onto it, nor the vampire girl’s satisfied smirk when Yeri scowled at her, “Are these rascals bothering you?”

“Oh, not at all.” I chuckled, looking at San and Wooyoung as Yeri scoffed, but everyone just ignored her.

“Well, if you ever get bored of them, you can always join me and my friends.” The vampire girl’s eyes fell pointedly on Yeri and Wooyoung as Mingi’s grip tightened on her waist, “I know some creatures forget they cohabit a place with others whom they are constantly bothering and irritating.”

“Oh, shove something up your—”

“Alright!” Mingi chuckled, jumping in to de-escalate the situation, as always, “Before this turns into another argument, my lovely girlfriend and I will be on our way.”

The Petrova girl winked at Yeri as she kissed Mingi’s cheek, and then the two turned and were off to a table where three creatures sat, all smiling at them except for one. She had long black hair, bangs that fell into her eyes, and a fierce glare as she stared at Yunho, then at me once she realised, I was looking at her.

“Won’t you sit?” Wooyoung gestured towards the empty seat next to Yeri, and that seemed to snap Yunho out of whatever train of thought he seemed to be lost in. I chanced a glance at him before I went back to check for typos in my presentation, trying to ignore Yunho’s vanilla scent spiking all of a sudden, so sweet it almost made me gasp. The last time it had been that sweet was when I caught him and that girl at the bonfire enjoying each other. I gulped and willed my wolf to remain silent as suddenly it took me everything to remain seated and not throw myself at Yunho, God, I so desperately wished to touch him and inhale him whole, but once again I had to remind myself that I had made a choice. No more Yunho, no more yearning, it was over. I deserved better, I could do better than this.

“No, see you around.” Yunho’s voice was strained as he quickly walked off, sitting alone at a large and almost empty table.

“That was strange,” Wooyoung mumbled as Yeri hummed, turning around to stare at her brother with a frown.

“He’s been acting strange ever since Y/N came to town,” I froze as Yeri faced me again, lips pursed, “Not that I’m blaming you for my brother’s behaviour, I just don’t understand what’s up with him. His scent gets stronger around you and he’s always moodier and snappier after he sees you, did you do something to him?”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes too as I closed my laptop, “Right, as if your brother had given me the chance to do something to him.”

Before anyone could question me, I stood and stormed towards the large bookcases lined closely to the exit, my muscles tense. Now that I had decided that I wanted nothing more to do with Yunho, my wolf had turned even more stubborn than it had been. I wanted to consume him, I wanted him to touch me and feel me up, it felt like I couldn’t think or breathe in his presence. And when he wasn’t around, my wolf whined and cried, begging me to find him and make him want us. But my will was stronger and I was determined to stay away even if it became harder and harder daily to go against my wolf. I wondered if Yunho felt the same way, if the thoughts of me were eating him up alive, if he was desperate to have me, if his wolf whined at him just like mine did. I sighed and closed my eyes, trying to ground myself into the present and push away all thoughts of the mate who didn’t want me back. I would’ve been struggling more half a year ago, but now it was second nature yearning after Yunho one second, then blocking him out the next one.

I still needed one more book for my presentation, the one that I could document myself from more in-depth as to why my experiment had failed…and I also shouldn’t forget to cut the sound for the recording since Yeri is giggling and making fun of me in the background for almost ruining my desk. My fingers traced the sturdy shelf of the bookcase as I craned my neck back, reading the titles of the books, wondering whether I was in the right section. I was tall, but these bookcases were over two meters, so I might need a ladder if I find my book and it’s way too high up on the shelf. As I scanned the next aisle, I grinned in triumph when I read the title of the book I was searching for, Do’s and Don’ts in Elixir Making, Alchemy, Level: kindergarten, by A. Turner. I chuckled under my breath at the blatant jab before I pushed myself up on my tiptoes, reaching forward and finding stability in the bookshelf when a sudden invasive warmth burned my nape, the scent of sandalwood forcing my eyes shut as I took a deep breath, my wolf purring when the sweet vanilla seemed to linger in my throat and oesophagus even after exhaling.

“Is this the one you were looking for?” Yunho’s voice was low, too close to my ear, and I couldn’t stop my heart from jolting in both fright and excitement. I whirled around, which was a mistake. There was barely any distance between our bodies as Yunho held the book in his big hand, long fingers curling around its old spine, his eyes soft, but his expression hardened. I gulped since my mouth felt dry, but the words didn’t come to me as Yunho and I stood staring at each other. His grip tightened around the book and I finally looked at it, nodding hesitantly. He hummed and handed it over, our fingers brushing in the process and making my body lurch forward. Yunho’s eyes widened, and I wondered if he had felt it too. The electricity, the low humming, the sudden tremble of my body at the fleeting touch, the depravation and desperation that was suddenly flowing through my veins, so close to claiming him as mine.

“Yes.” My voice was steady despite my hammering heart, and the sweat that coated my brows. I cradled the book against my chest as if I was trying to protect myself from Yunho, protect my heart and mind too. But Yunho didn’t look like he was about to move away, and I was too scared of making any moves, knowing that my legs would carry me straight in his arms, shamelessly at that. I couldn’t let that happen, it would’ve been humiliating. Yunho’s lips parted as his eyebrows furrowed, long strands falling into his eyes, and he swiftly ran a hand through his hair as my eyes followed the motion. I gulped, wishing to do the same, but then Yunho exhaled and I felt my body lean towards him again, vanilla so sweet my mind was clouded with want.

“Mingi’s girlfriend told me she had given you the sparse bracelet she and Dahyun had made.” I hadn’t expected that, so I was curious where Yunho was going with this, “She reeks of Mingi, so it’s no surprise your bracelet also reeks of Mingi.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I raised my hand, staring at it incredulously. Does it? I hadn’t even noticed, how come? After all, Mingi’s scent had never been as invasive and constant as Yunho’s. Bringing my wrist closer to my nose, I sniffed at it for a second, eyebrows furrowing when I noticed the faint hint of the earthy and cinnamon scent that was Mingi. It was barely even there, I wondered why Yunho was so sensitive towards it.

“Oh, well, I can faintly smell it now that you’ve pointed it out,” I muttered with a shrug as I lowered my arm, looking at Yunho with a questioning gaze. He bit his bottom lip and my eyes stayed there, wondering what the pink plush flesh would feel like underneath my teeth, whether Yunho would whine or growl if I were to sink my fangs into it and nip at the sensitive lip. But before my face could flush at the vivid image created in my mind, Yunho cleared his throat and took a small step towards me, making me press myself up against the bookcase. My body felt alive, my heart was racing, and my ears were ringing. I felt like I could do anything with Yunho around, as if I was untouchable.

“Listen,” Yunho seemed to hesitate for a second before his eyes glazed over with conviction, his scent so overbearing that for a second it was all I could focus on, and his racing heart, “I had never meant to assume things about you, nor insinuate anything, but I realise my words had come off wrong more than once. I was harsh when I didn’t mean to be, and I know you think I’m a dick. Frankly, you have all the right to think that about me, I hadn’t been the nicest to you until now.”

I wanted to ask why now, what had changed that he was finally acknowledging me, what was spurring him on to even talk to me like this, because it sounded like he was about to apologise and I hated how my heart was beating harder, making my wolf was howl in happiness, ready to accept Yunho’s apology even if he didn’t say the words. I remained silent as Yunho licked his pouty lips, and my eyes seemed to remain on them even as he continued to speak, “Do you—do you believe in soulmates?”

I couldn’t help but give Yunho an amused look, quirking an eyebrow, “We’re literally werewolves who imprint on each other and have lifelong mates, do you believe in soulmates?”

Yunho froze, a little taken aback that I had answered his question with a question, “What about mates? Do you believe in mates, then?”

It seemed like neither one of us wanted to answer questions right now, but I sighed as I gave Yunho a resigned look, “I do, I believe in mates.”

“Since when?” Yunho’s tone was turning slightly desperate as he kept pressing on, and I cleared my throat, averting my eyes for a bit.

“Since I was little, but I suppose I started firmly believing that mates do exist after I came here.” Maybe if I didn’t say it too directly, he’d still understand what I was trying to hint at.

“Yeah?” Yunho’s tone was faint, his face suddenly softening as he exhaled quietly.

“What about you? I don’t think I’ve seen you settle with anyone for a longer period since I came here.” Yunho’s jaw clenched as I looked back into his eyes, tilting my head as my eyes narrowed at him.

“The concept of mates was silly to me…” Yunho’s tone was hard as he took a step back, making my wolf whine in protest, but I remained silent and ignored the sudden coldness that plunged through my body, “Until you came to Nocturnal Parade.”

My whole body went cold upon hearing his words, and my eyes widened as Yunho’s admission echoed in my ears. Did that mean he knew we were mates? Could that mean that Yunho was aware that we were fated, but he was ignoring it on purpose? That was utterly more painful than being in a one-sided mated situation, because it meant he was purposefully rejecting me. My eyebrows furrowed as Yunho’s expression was blank once again, his eyes hardening the longer I stared at him in silence.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe, so many questions whirling in my head, making me question every little interaction that we’ve had in the past year, even more so the recent ones. Why would he ignore me? Was I not good enough? Was I not pretty to him? Was I not appealing to his wolf? Why did Yunho hate me so much that he ignored the fact that we were mates for a whole year, making it so hard for me to be in his vicinity? I blinked, suddenly aware that I had tears in my eyes, even my wolf was whining at the realisation. Yunho didn’t say anything as he watched my shocked expression morph into something of sadness mixed with anger, and then I squared my shoulders and glared at him. I didn’t say anything as I pressed the book against his chest to push him back, trying to keep it together in front of him despite wanting to scream at him, demand answers, and throw all the books from the shelves at him. Yunho looked taken off guard as I pushed him back by his chest, his gasp loud as I ripped the book away from his chest and stormed back to the table I shared with San and the Song siblings, my blood fuming and my thoughts running a mile per hour. Yunho was horrible and he didn’t deserve me, even if we were mates. As I loudly and aggressively sat back down in my chair, heads turned to look at me curiously, but nobody bothered me when San shook his head once he noticed Wooyoung open his mouth to drill me with questions.

There was one insistent pair of eyes, however, that didn’t look away even after I had given them a death glare, and it was the creature who was sitting with Mingi and the Petrova girl. Her eyes tracked Yunho as he hurriedly gathered his things from the table and left the hall, a scowl settling on her face before she was watching me again. I opened my book and opted to ignore her, I didn’t have time for all this drama, I had to finish an assignment and study for the midterms as well.

            The next day wasn’t much different, except that there were barely any empty seats to find in both the Library and the Study Hall. After San and I had squeezed ourselves in between a Fae and a Druid, we spent four hours in the Library, our backs aching by the time we headed for lunch. My brain felt numb and my eyes ached from dehydration, and if I thought San would stop his revision while we enjoyed our meal, I was wrong. He was reciting a whole paragraph as he mumbled to himself over a mouthful of vegetable soup, scooping up the baby carrots into his spoon and placing them in my bowl absentmindedly. I smiled at his antics and found myself feeling fond of San and our friendship. Even though I have been here for a year and three months now, I got to experience so many new things and emotions. It was as if I was born for the first time, eager to experience our world through new lenses. If I thought back to my whole life spent in the big city, I couldn’t help but feel sad over how much I had missed out on. The community, however, in Nocturnal Parade had a way of filling in the gaps, and the absence of fond and good memories in a way that tricked my brain into believing that I was always part of this town, of this community, of this pack. It was exhilarating, and for the first time in months, I found myself craving partnership.

So, when San finally started complaining about physically being unable to revise and learn anymore, his muscles crying out for a good stretch, I proposed we go on a run together. It took San only a few seconds to realise what I saying, and then he sprung up from his seat with newfound energy, packing all of his belongings in mere minutes. I giggled as I followed suit, my backpack almost falling from my hands when San grabbed my biceps and hurled me after himself with little care that I was struggling to keep my feet from tangling together as we basically ran out of the Library. I ended up giggling as San faced me with sparkling eyes, his mouth wide but curling into a dimpled smile.

“I’ve been waiting for this day since forever!” San exclaimed as we hurried down the hallway for no reason, but San’s excitement was so palpable that I could almost touch it. It would be the second time I’d join San on his run, so I understood why this felt like a life-changing event to him. I chuckled and linked our arms together to try and slow San down, calm him down a little bit, “Which deity must I thank that you chose me as your companion for a run?”

I rolled my eyes and turned my head to watch San as I released his arm to let him hop down the stairs, “It’s warm outside and I can’t study anymore, I feel tired. I thought you also needed a second away from it all.”

“I sure do,” San muttered under his breath as he waited at the foot of the stairs for me to reach him, “All this studying just for me to not know which major I actually want, we’re four months away from graduating from the Academy, Y/N.”

I hummed and linked our arms together again as I veered us towards the backroads leading to campus, “I know, but you’ve got this San. Whether you choose Medical Engineering or Medicine and Pharmacy, you’ll do well, I just know it.”

“I want to do so much, but I feel like we have so little time,” San mumbled, his lips downturned as we left the building.

“We might not be vampires, but we certainly have more than enough time to live a lifetime full of completing our wishes and wants, don’t you think?” I tried to cheer my best friend up as I nudged his shoulder, but San just sighed long and stopped walking. His scent suddenly soured, and I frowned as he shuffled on his feet, keeping his eyes on the ground.

“I’m just…” He sighed and I hummed, spurring him on to continue, “What if Wooyoung doesn’t like me the way I like him?”

That was a tough question, I would hate myself if I answered it the wrong way and only saddened San more. I gulped and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him lightly, “San, do you not see the way Wooyoung just gravitates towards you? His eyes glimmer when he looks at you, he’s always smiling and laughing in your presence, and he’s always whiney when you don’t pay attention to him. He searches for you in every room, and he’s always talking about you, somehow roping you up into a conversation that has nothing to do with you. I know baring our feelings is scary, but what if…what if Wooyoung likes you the way you like him, and you’re just both wasting time? And if he somehow isn’t into you, it’s Wooyoung, you know nothing will change. He’ll treat you the same way, San. You might be heartbroken but life goes on, and you’ll find someone who is…not Wooyoung.”

“Wow,” San chuckled, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing, “You really were doing so well until you brought up Wooyoung not being into me.”

“I’m sorry!” I exclaimed, feeling bad only for a second as San started laughing. I huffed as he threw an arm over my shoulders and pulled me into his side, a light flush settling over his cheeks. He was still smiling and his scent had evened out, so I knew he wasn’t upset anymore. Maybe my speech was good, after all, even if I ruined it by insinuating Wooyoung might not be into San.

“You’re right, Y/N,” San and I started walking again, “I won’t waste any more time. I’ll tell him before the next full moon.”

My eyes widened as I looked at San’s side profile, “That’s in five days.”

“I know.” San and I shared a look before I hummed, grabbing him around the hips to give him a reassuring squeeze. He smiled in contentment as we wobbled our way through the grass-covered path, thankful that we didn’t come across any Fae that was drinking up the warm sun rays as they lay in the grass.

And, well, that’s how I ended up on a run not just with San, but Wooyoung also. It didn’t bother me, it turned out that Wooyoung was a lot more coordinated and serious when in wolf form than he was in his human shape. His wolf wasn’t too large, but it had great stamina as it ran ahead of San and me, its fur a mixture of black and white, reminding me of his brothers, who both had beautiful fur and majestic builds. At first glance, it seemed as if Wooyoung was aimlessly leading us around the forest, but I was proven wrong when we arrived at a small waterfall, of which I had no idea it even existed. My wolf purred as it shook its fur, looking around with sharp eyes, making me chuckle inside my head when I noticed San headed towards Wooyoung, rubbing their muzzles together. My wolf howled, making me feel embarrassed when both San and Wooyoung looked my way, the amused glint in Wooyoung’s wolf eyes unmistakable even like this. When I was in my wolf form, it was hard to control its reactions, so I was forced to wallow in the embarrassment of the jealousy my wolf felt over what San and Wooyoung had. Even to my wolf, it was obvious that the two’s bond ran deep, that there was something they wouldn’t be able to deny for much longer.

As if San’s wolf had sensed my shift in mood, he approached with strong footsteps, rising a little taller than my own wolf. He was nowhere near as large as Yunho or Mingi, but the wolf was still big and menacing looking. The darkness of its eyes was intimidating to anyone who didn’t know it was San. The sourness of my scent, however, disappeared the second San affectionately brushed its body against mine, huffing under his breath as our heads bumped together in an acknowledging way. It was sweet, it tempered my wolf’s antics if only for a second as we heard the bushes rustling, the steps sounding closer and closer. My skin twitched as I bared my fangs for any unwelcome predator, but even my wolf was shocked to see a black and white wolf emerge from behind a large boulder. It was hard to think straight when your wolf was in control of your body and mind, and I had to pull every part of my mind together to stop my wolf from pouncing on Yunho the second they made eye contact. Something deep rumbled out of the black wolf’s throat as Wooyoung skipped over gleefully, its mouth opened as it made a funny sound.

Mingi imitated the sound as they bopped their noses together, a rumble leaving San’s throat as he stood next to me, protectively, as he watched Yunho’s wolf. A very quiet whine managed to somehow slip past my clenched jaw still when Yunho and Wooyoung acknowledged each other, and the second I realised my wolf would actually throw itself at Yunho, I somehow gathered enough mental strength to force myself to jump away from the group, a loud howl leaving my throat. I knew everyone was watching me, but I was panting and my wolf was purring, I knew I had to leave before I created an even bigger scene. So, when I took off, hopeful that the others would let me be, my wolf almost leered at me when Yunho’s vanilla scent permeated every part of my being, its burning gaze on my body making me choke up as I could see the big, black, wolf chase after me. Everyone else wasn’t far behind, but Yunho seemed to run faster than any of them, forcing me to push myself as my paws hit the forest ground harshly, my lungs heaving for air as we waved through the trees, racing through the forest.

Yunho’s loud puffs of air would’ve covered my skin in goosebumps, a constant reminder of just how close he was to me, to catching me. Because it felt like a chase, as if I was running away from a dangerous predator, and would end up dead, my windpipe crushed between its malicious fangs. My heart raced in my chest and my lungs burned from the lack of air, but my wolf wasn’t tired yet. In fact, it was elated that Yunho was relentlessly chasing, loud huffs and growls leaving its mouth anytime he thought he had finally caught up to us, only to realise my wolf was just tricking him and would speed up once again. My wolf was thrilled as it howled loudly, it would’ve sounded like laughter if I was in my human form, and then it took a sharp left cut as we jumped over numerous fallen logs. My skin was on fire as adrenaline coursed through my body at an alarming state, and I couldn’t remember a time when I had been so in touch with my wolf and the nature that surrounded us. I couldn’t lie, I was excited as well as I listened closely to Yunho’s heavy breaths, still hot on our trail even though he couldn’t quite catch up with us.

I couldn’t tell whether the others were still after us because Yunho’s scent was so intense that it was the only thing my wolf could smell and focus on, but I hoped the others would forgive me for my sudden departure once I had apologised to them. I just hoped San wouldn’t worry about me, but then again, it’s not like I couldn’t take care of myself, and right now it didn’t feel like I was in danger despite Yunho breathing down our neck. Before I could question where my wolf was taking us, the trees became less dense and the soil a little muddier, and I realised we were headed towards the shed. I suppose my muscles had eased up enough for me to end my run, but I wouldn’t want to come to the shed since this isn’t where I had left my clothes, I felt confusion spike through my senses, but my wolf was quick to completely push it down. My bones started aching as I gasped loudly for air, the shed now in eyesight as I realised my wolf was forcing me to shift. I didn’t want to be naked out in the wild, but I couldn’t stop the transformation if my wolf forced it upon me. I groaned when my bones snapped into place, the burgundy fur slowly disappearing as I was forced up onto my legs, my claws slowly retracting into normal nails as my jaw snapped into place, a little sore from the sudden action.

I could feel my hair brush just above my shoulders and I gasped as I tumbled forward into the shed’s door, my feet aching and numb from having pushed myself too hard in the chase. My body felt on fire as my heart raced loudly in my chest, the adrenaline making me more alert than normal as I hurried inside the shed, trying to shift back so that I wouldn’t have to walk to campus naked, but my wolf was opposed to the idea. Before I could wonder why, all my questions were answered. The shed’s door slammed shut loudly behind me and I jumped, whirling around in panic as Yunho’s tall form stood looming in the doorway. There was something different about him right now, about the air between us. It was tense, I felt like I couldn’t breathe in the dim lighting of the shed, and I gulped as I took in Yunho’s appearance. His long brown hair was all over the place, falling into his dark eyes, which lacked their warmth. They were narrowed into slits as he was panting through his mouth, his cheeks tinged a deep red, the flush continuing down to his chest. His fangs hadn’t retracted yet, though, and they were poking past his pink bottom lip. Yunho’s nose was scrunched up as he leered at me, and I gulped nervously, all of a sudden too aware of my nakedness as I tried to shield my exposed private parts with my hand and arm.

Something prompted Yunho to suddenly push forward, consequently making me backtrack until I collided with the old wooden table, making my heart race even faster as Yunho slowly stalked towards me, his eyes an intense orchid colour. I felt shy all of a sudden as if we hadn’t already seen each other naked, but my wolf purred at me and forced my hands away from my body as I felt frozen in place, big eyes looking up at Yunho once he stood too close, too easy to reach. His heart was pounding just as hard as mine as his chest fell and rose rapidly, and my eyes fluttered shut when his vanilla scent made my head swim. It felt as if I was underwater, trying to grip onto my last string of sanity as Yunho growled, hot fingers digging into my hip. My eyes flew open, widening as I looked down at Yunho’s hand holding me, leaving crescent moons as his chapped yellow nails dug into my warm skin. He stepped even closer, caging me in, and making me look up at him as I felt hazy. My wolf was whispering at me to spread my legs just a little further and let him nestle in between them. I wanted Yunho like nothing else before.

“Y/N.” Yunho’s voice was the lowest I have ever heard it be. His eyes seemed to be unfocused as he grabbed me with both hands now, slowly tracing my sides as if he were memorising my body. I had to bite my bottom lip to stop any sounds from escaping, and in a moment of weakness, I allowed my wolf to do to its liking as I raised my right hand, fingers almost hesitantly touching Yunho’s left peck. He shivered as his jaw tightened, stepping even closer until our bodies were touching. It was too much to feel all of him against my skin, his body burning mine up in a way I thought wasn’t possible. My breath stuttered in my throat when Yunho’s fingers ghosted over my breasts, mine travelling lower on his torso until they were massaging circles right above his happy trail, making him growl, “I can’t do it anymore.”

It was hard to speak, but I needed to understand what he meant. I swallowed around nothing, letting my head fall back as Yunho’s pupils dilated upon seeing my exposed neck, “What—what do you mean?”

Without realising, my hands were tracing his lower back, slipping lower and lower until they hovered right above his ass cheeks, hesitant to touch until Yunho roughly grabbed my left breast, rutting against my thigh. I keened, pressing him closer as my fingers dug into his naked flesh, my skin practically singing as he tilted my head even further back with his free hand, his index finger pressing against my bottom lip insistently. I couldn’t breathe as the wooden edge of the table dug into my back, but I didn’t care as my body experienced things it never had before. It was exhilarating, but also scary that I had given in so quickly. I knew it was mostly my wolf doing this, but I couldn’t find my grip. I actually didn’t want to, so I let my wolf take the lead for once when it came to Yunho. It’s what we’ve wanted for a year, after all, to feel him all over us, close to us, in us.

“You’re so alluring,” Yunho whispered as his head lowered, his hot lips pressing against my cheek as I flushed a darker red, “Maddening to the point I can’t sleep at night, Y/N. I want to devour you whole, take you as you are. I need you.”

I whimpered as Yunho and I made eye contact, his hand which was holding my breast now sneaking to my lower back as he made me arch into him, my lower stomach coiling at how easy it would be to just let him take whatever he needed. And I wanted it too, my wolf was desperate for it, so I leaned up until our lips were brushing together, my own orchid eyes reflected in his.

“Why now?” I whispered, watching as Yunho gulped, lips parting as if he was trying to inhale my very breath, “Why do you want me now?”

I gasped when Yunho suddenly hoisted me up, my legs crushing his hips as I latched onto him, my eyes shaking slightly as he nipped at my jawline, his fangs dangerous but not there to harm, “It’s not just now, I always want you. Even when I’m sleeping, you’re in my every dream.”

My eyes fluttered close as Yunho kissed behind my ear, making me sigh in pleasure as he trailed more kisses on my neck until he was dangerously close to my scent gland, “But you’ve always ignored me, I thought you didn’t like me.”

Yunho growled as he nipped at my skin, making me lick my lips as we came eye to eye once again. I wanted to kiss him breathless, but he was talking before I could do so, “I don’t like you, I’m obsessed with you. I want you to be mine, forever. I had known you belonged to me the second I first saw you.”

My wolf purred and I moaned as he pressed open-mouthed kisses against my neck, up to my jawline until our cheeks were pressed together, and he was nuzzling his nose into it, his sandalwood scent rubbing deeply into my skin. Our noses bumped together and my wolf was leering, so happy that we were in Yunho’s arms, so lenient to let him mark us, mate us. And just like that, my heartbeat stuttered and my eyebrows furrowed, somehow my mind clearing through the lustful fog that was clouding it, “Since the second you first saw me?”

“Yes,” Yunho muttered lowly, kissing my cheek before he looked into my eyes, “I had smelled you before I had even seen you, I thought I was going crazy, turns out I wasn’t. I had just found my mate.”

Before my wolf could let me gloss over this new piece of information, I pressed, “So you knew all this time that we were mates? That I was fated to be with you?”

“Yes, Y/N, I knew.” The grin on Yunho’s face was anything but pleasant as my heart dropped all the way to my stomach. He knew all this time and he left me in the dark to suffer alone, cry myself to sleep thinking I wasn’t good enough, that even my own mate didn’t want anything to do with me. I had thought all this time that I was too weird, too much, too shy to be fated with someone like Yunho, I had thought it was a cruel joke made by the Universe to laugh at me, I couldn’t have a peaceful and perfect life even if we left the city. I had been suffering for the past year and all this time Yunho knew, and yet, he did it on purpose. He didn’t care for me, he didn’t think for a second what this did to my mental health and image of myself. He was my mate, yet instead of protecting me, making me happy, and keeping me safe, he pushed me towards my darkest times where I felt like I wasn’t even real, that I didn’t matter to anyone, that I’d never be enough.

“Put me down.” My tone was just as shaky as my whole mental state right now, crumbling faster than my wolf could grasp the situation and try to silence me again. Yunho’s eyes widened slightly, then his eyebrows furrowed, and instead of doing what I asked, he only held me tighter, “Yunho, put me down right now.”

“Y/N, I don’t—listen, we can discuss this. I messed up, if you listen to the whole—”

“If you don’t put me down right now, Yunho, you’ll never see me again.” My wolf was whining as Yunho’s expression crumbled into hurt and panic, his chest falling and rising rapidly as I could hear his heart race for different reasons now. But I wouldn’t let this go his way, I couldn’t just gloss over this and act as if I hadn’t been miserable since the moment I met him. It hurt too much, even my wolf was finally realising what was happening, that he had actively refused his mate for whatever reason I wasn’t curious to know. And even though I could see it in Yunho’s eyes, the need to go against my demand and keep me here, very slowly, he started to move, letting one leg down at a time. My feet were cold as they touched the shed’s flooring, and I gulped as Yunho still hounded me into the table. I tried to keep the tears out of my eyes as I gulped, taking a shaky breath. Then, I pushed him back since he wasn’t moving away, and closed my eyes as I felt my bones shift around without me having to force my wolf to cooperate. So much for running with your pack.

            The tables have somehow turned. It wasn’t me yearning after Yunho anymore, it was him yearning after me now. He was everywhere I went, albeit the Academy’s grounds weren’t as humongous as a town’s grounds, but he was everywhere. I couldn’t enjoy my meals anymore, I couldn’t study in the Library or the Study Hall, I couldn’t sit out in the Flower Fields on a blanket reading, and I couldn’t even go on runs at a reasonable hour because Yunho was always there. It was slightly frightening and disarming, but my wolf was elated. She was practically mewling at all times, baring her neck in Yunho’s direction anytime she could. Good thing my will was stronger than hers. It was peculiar to see how good I was at actually dismissing Yunho’s whole existence, giving him a taste of his own medicine. I didn’t find joy in ignoring him, but I was mad and hurt. I wouldn’t allow him to just crawl back into my life as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t known all this time that we were mates. Only a week had passed since our encounter on the run and the whole thing that went down in the shed, and I was positive Yunho was close to losing his mind.

I had felt like that for a good two months, but I took it a lot better than he was right now. He looked like he hadn’t slept for two days at least, with dark bags under his eyes and his hair all wavy and in a man-bun since it looked unwashed. His nails lacked their usual vibrant colour and his outfits seemed less crazy, as if he wasn’t putting much thought into them anymore, just wearing whatever was at hand. Yesterday, he had even worn one of Mingi’s black hoodies, a colour unseen on Yunho previously. It was jarring, I couldn’t lie, but I wasn’t going to give in to him just because he was moping about me keeping my distance from him. It wasn’t even that deep, I hadn’t even rejected him like he had done with me, I just needed time to sort out my feelings and thoughts, but I suppose Yunho didn’t know that and assumed things were over between us. As if there had been anything, to begin with. Yeri, who had no issues rooming with me but didn’t usually hang out much with me otherwise, was now suspiciously all up in my business every damn day, resulting in Yunho tagging along. I knew the Song siblings were close, but I hadn’t seen Yunho and Yeri spend more than one hour together at the Academy, so they weren’t slick with it when Yunho followed after Yeri, and subsequently me, all day like a kicked puppy.

But if it wasn’t Yeri, then it was Dahyun, who had never spoken to me more than five words at once, but was now eager to get to know me, complimenting me about my rusty coloured hair and forcing me to do beaded bracelets with her in the Study Hall while Yunho sat a few seats away from us, staring at me without even blinking. Their antics had gotten old and irritating quite quickly, but the last nail had been today during lunch. I sat with San and Wooyoung, who were disgustingly sweet now that they had finally sorted out their relationship. They weren’t dating, but they were certainly something more than friends, and they seemed fine with that, so, who was I to judge them? Our lunch was full of chatter as Wooyoung cackled at every small thing, animatedly retelling a time when San had tried to sneak into his room, only to slip down the roof and fall face-first into the mud. He had broken two teeth and had almost fractured his cheekbone if it wasn’t for our magical werewolf healing. My appetite had even returned as my wolf was finally done acting as if it was the end of the world, however, when Yunho’s oppressing sandalwood scent wafted through the air, it felt like my whole day was ruined.

Mingi and his girlfriend joined our table with quiet greetings as they sat, Yunho hot in tow as his eyes burned into the side of my head. I have had enough, but before I could excuse myself, Wooyoung was already talking to Yunho. The vampire girl gave me an understanding look before she sat back, pushing around the vegetables until Mingi noticed and took them from her. I watched their interactions while paying attention to Wooyoung, who had slightly settled down when San squeezed his thigh. But Yunho was still staring, breathing shallowly, his bottom lip jutting out almost pitifully. I wanted to yell at him that this was his fault and that I was sick of everything, but I kept my composure until I couldn’t anymore. A scoff made us all look up, and I realised it was the same creature from the Library, part of Petrova’s friend group.

“Look at you,” She sneered at Yunho malevolently, her lips curling into a wicked smirk, “You thought you had found another bitch just to get kicked to the curb by her, didn’t you? How pitiful.”

Before I could stop myself, I pushed my chair back and looked at the creature with a glare, “Who are you calling a bitch?”

I hadn’t intended to growl, but my wolf was just as triggered as me, and we really didn’t want to be provoked today. I wasn’t confrontational, but I was beyond stressed by the midterms, and now Yunho’s behaviour too.

Before this whole ordeal could escalate into something else, the Petrova girl scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Really, Seulgi? I thought we agreed you’d finally let it go.”

Seulgi, Yunho’s ex-girlfriend I realised, bared her fangs at the other vampire, “Just because you suck your werewolf boyfriend’s dick, you shouldn’t look down on your kin. Or did you forget who you are and where you come from?”

I hadn’t seen anyone get angry as fast as the Petrova girl, her whole face going red, but before the two vampires could turn this into something physical, Mingi stood and faced Seulgi, “I would appreciate it if you stopped harassing my girlfriend, your own friend, Seulgi. Last time I checked, you and Yunho broke up because you cheated on him. What’s your fucking problem, huh? Do you want me to rip you apart? I would love to sink my fangs into—”

“Mingi.” His girlfriend looked sick as she gripped his hand tightly, shaking her head at him. Mingi took a sharp breath and looked at her with a guilty expression before he faced Seulgi again, who looked to be fuming. I exhaled, then grabbed my backpack and tapped San’s shoulder.

“I’m not hungry anymore, see you later.” Before San could ask where I was going, I was basically running out of the canteen, desperate to get away from everyone. The other students were staring at us curiously, and I hated it. I was tired and irritated, I just wanted to be alone and away from anything that was connected to Yunho. I knew I’d have to face him and have a conversation with him sooner or later, but maybe I’d first make him suffer for his choices for another few months. Maybe until we graduate.

My footsteps echoed down the corridor as I decided to head back to my dorm and take a nap, I still had some time until my Calculus class. However, footsteps followed mine hurriedly, and judging based on the absence of an overbearing scent, I guessed it was a vampire that was trailing me. Maybe it was the Petrova girl, I actually hoped it was her since I didn’t really want to speak to anyone who couldn’t take a hint. She was rather good at reading the room, over the past week we’ve hung out more, and I got to know her a bit better. She was anything like Yeri had made her sound, and I was just glad to have a friend who was a female and my age. I was snapped out of my thoughts when I felt sharp nails digging through my sleeve and into my skin, making my wolf growl as I turned around with a sharp glare. It was Yunho’s ex, the black-haired girl, Seulgi.

“What do you want?” I snapped, my eyebrows furrowing when she didn’t let go of my arm. She looked me up and down with a grimace, scoffing under her breath.

“Are you Yunho’s new bitch?” My jaw tensed and my wolf growled, but Seulgi continued before I could speak, “Have you fucked already? Did he tell you that you are the love of his life only to cheat on you with a fucking dog the next day?”

So, she was associating werewolves with dogs now, huh? I couldn’t have disliked her more than I already did, but I gulped down the nasty names I could’ve called her, and opted to be the adult in this damn conversation, “Even if my answers to your questions were all yes, how is that your concern? Aren’t you just his ex?”

“I might be his ex,” Seulgi snickered, stepping closer, “But I know him better than anyone else—”

“I highly doubt that’s true since he has a twin brother, but sure, whatever you say, darling.” I cut her off, my tone turning cold as something like jealousy gripped my heart. My wolf was far from exhilarated to know that Seulgi and Yunho shared a past, but everyone had a life before they met their mates, no? I couldn’t flip out over something like this.

“Listen here, bitch,” Seulgi hissed, stepping so close I could smell her breath. It reeked of blood and menthol, “I’m just here to warn you, but since you want to get smart with me, I might as well give you a piece of my mind. You are nothing to—”

“Kang Seulgi.” Yunho’s sharp and dark tone made me shiver and Seulgi’s eyes widened. I hadn’t even heard him approach, too focused on Seulgi and my own anger. His scent was strong, the sandalwood making it hard to breathe as it spiked sourly, “Haven’t I told you countless times to leave alone anyone that comes in contact with me?”

“Are you scared I’ll let them know who you really are? This bitch isn’t even into you, I can—”

“You can’t do nothing, shut the fuck up, you know nothing.” Yunho sneered as he stopped next to me, a few good heads taller than Seulgi as he loomed over her. She didn’t look intimidated or scared as she grinned widely, almost insane looking. She tilted her head, her eyes slipping between the two of us.

“You think just because you scent this bitch others won’t touch—” I flinched when Yunho suddenly grabbed her by the throat, yanking her towards himself. Even Seulgi seemed shocked, her eyes turning wide as she gripped Yunho’s wrist in fear.

“If you call her a bitch one more time, Seulgi, I swear to fucking God, I will murder you right here and right now.” Yunho’s growl was guttural, I knew his wolf was talking rather than him, but Seulgi didn’t seem to realise that as she started shaking like a leaf. She gasped, her eyes flickering to me before she tried to smooth out her face and look friendlier.

“Is she—Yunho, it hurts.” She whined, lower lip trembling as Yunho’s nails grew sharper and dug more into her neck. I stepped up, knowing that Yunho wasn’t completely himself.

“Let her go, Yunho, you’re hurting her.” My tone was harsh, and I gripped his lower arm to squeeze it painfully. Yunho huffed and let go of Seulgi, who I grabbed before she could stumble over her own feet.

“Are you alright?” I asked quietly as she started to hyperventilate, her eyes filled with tears.

“Are you mates?” Her voice was quiet as she looked back at Yunho, leaving me speechless. I opened my mouth to deny it, but no words came out.

“Yes.” It was Yunho who answered, firm and loud, I could feel him step closer as his warmth mingled with mine. Seulgi gulped, then looked at him before at me, brushing my touch off her.

“I’m sorry.” Then she turned and hurried off before we could stop her, her sobs quite loud as they echoed down the corridors. I gulped, feeling a lump in my throat as Yunho was still behind me, hovering over me as if I would run away if he didn’t.

Even I had a breaking point, so I gave in, “What do you want—”

“Forgive me, for everything.” Yunho was speaking before I could even finish my sentence as he came around me, and gripped my cheeks, taking me off guard, “I don’t demand you do it right away, I know you must be very angry with me right now, but please, listen to me before you say anything. I didn’t believe in mates because my parents aren’t true mates. My father’s mate died when they were children and my mother denied her real mate to be with my father, so I decided to take matters into my own hands and not wait for love to find me. I—I also might’ve been selfish and a jackass for not wanting to settle down just yet, that is mainly the reason I’ve tried to ignore our bond this whole time.

“It’s so shitty of me and I’m so ashamed of myself, but I was scared that you might not want me back, that I might be in a one-sided situationship. My parents had always told us that we have the right to deny whoever the Universe destined us with and find our own person, but they were wrong, they—they don’t know what the pull of a true mate feels like. When Mingi and Petrova started going out, I was so angry, I felt so abandoned. Mingi and I had promised we would never imprint on anyone, but he broke his promise when he imprinted on Petrova. I was so dumb to be mad at him, and I was even more dumb to try and deny what we two have. I realised I was jealous of Mingi at some point because I thought I’d never have what he has, and then you showed up and I—I didn’t know what to do, how to navigate all these new emotions. I also had a girlfriend at the time and I seriously thought we’d work out, but…you were all I could think about and want. In fact, I don’t want anyone else but you, Y/N. I’m just—I’m asking you to give me a chance. Just one chance.”

I gulped, overwhelmed by Yunho’s confession and his proximity altogether as my wolf purred, prompting me to nuzzle my cheek into Yunho’s palm, inhale his scent deeply as my nose brushed against his hot wrist, “One chance?”

Yunho’s heart skipped a beat as vanilla wrapped around us, his eyes regaining that pretty spark in them, “Yes, just one chance, I beg. I’ll prove myself to you, I’ll treat you right, and I’ll love you unconditionally. I want to make up for the lost time, may I—can you let me? I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

I licked my lips and watched as Yunho’s mouth parted, inhaling through his lips as his heart started racing. His ears were flushed and I smiled, a little amused, as I raised my left hand and cupped his cheek, making his eyes widen. But he didn’t stay frozen, he let his right hand fall from my cheek as he pressed his palm over my hand to keep it firmly pressing into his cheek, “I won’t forgive you overnight, I hope you’re aware of that. You made me really suffer, Yunho, it was so painful at some points, I thought the broken bond would kill me.”

“I’m sorry,” Yunho whispered sorrowfully as he leaned forward to press his forehead against mine, and I sighed, closing my eyes. For a second, it felt as if it were just the two of us in the world, our scents mixed and creating a safe cocoon that couldn’t be broken unless we wanted it to. I felt my heart beat in a new rhythm, one that was stronger and more frantic somehow. I realised it was Yunho’s heartbeat I was feeling, and not my own, it made me wonder whether he could feel mine too.

“I haven’t felt this complete my whole life,” Yunho whispered in a shaky tone and I gulped, angling my head so that our noses would brush together. Yunho’s sharp exhale fanned over my face and I smiled, listening to the whisper of my wolf. She was right, I finally had him, and I didn’t have to withhold anymore. Even if with baby steps, we could work this out, I could forgive him if he proves himself to be a respectable and trustworthy werewolf. So, I tilted my head away, hearing Yunho’s breath catch as if he was panicking until my lips were pressing against his pink ones. They were warm, just like I had fantasized they would be, and they tasted like strawberries. I almost giggled, but I was too focused on the feeling that spread through my body, stealing my breath away even if it was just an innocent and fleeting peck to Yunho’s lips. My body tingled, and it felt like I saw the world for the first time when my eyes fluttered open, Yunho was already staring at me deeply. His cheeks were flushed dark, his fake blush all but disappearing under his real blush, and he was smiling so widely his cheeks must’ve hurt once we pulled away. I chuckled and shook my head, gently placing my arms around his neck as he hugged me close to himself.

“This isn’t me forgiving you, by the way, my wolf is just too desperate at this point for me to fight against her,” I muttered and Yunho laughed, his eyes creasing as he threw his head back, the sound of his joy music to my ears. I couldn’t help but grin widely and tighten my arms around him, wondering how I had gotten so lucky to have him of all werewolves as my mate.

“Mine too, are you busy right now?” The mischievous glint in Yunho’s eyes told me whatever we were about to do would define how we’d move forward with our relationship.

“Not really, why?”

“Mingi won’t be back until late evening, the dorm is all mine,” Yunho whispered, biting his bottom lip as his pupils dilated, eyes slowly trailing down my body as if I was already naked.

“Good, because I forbid Yeri from bringing back boys to our dorm, I can’t go around breaking my own rule.” I wriggled my eyebrows at Yunho, making him laugh as his hands slowly slipped lower on my torso, feeling me all up. It made me feel hot all over, my wolf purring loudly as I fought the urge to tilt my head back and bare my neck at Yunho.

“Oh, the horror on her face if she’d see her brother under your sheets.” Yunho made a mocking sound as he pressed a hand against his mouth, my eyes lingered on his long fingers. I’m sure he noticed because he suddenly smirked, then swiftly pecked my lips before he detached himself from me, intertwining our fingers as he eagerly led the way towards our side of campus, “Let’s stop wasting time.”

I hummed, feeling my chest all warm from Yunho’s warmth, my cheeks flushed and my heart racing in my chest. All this time I thought my mate would never want me back, yet here we were now, headed to explore what the future held for us. My wolf and I couldn’t have been happier.

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