#Like its tail not tale | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zynhttyd · 3 months ago

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TOOTHLESS KNOWS BEST

pairings « hiccup haddock x gn! reader »

✎ When you help nurse Toothless back to health after an unexpected illness, the Night Fury grows protective of you. Hiccup is surprised by the dragon’s sudden attachment—and even more surprised when Toothless starts shadowing your every move and nudging you toward his rider.

【warnings; none, second hand embarrassment if you care enough.】

They say dragons were once fearsome beasts, horrifying beings of terror who reveled in the suffering of vikings. With their hooked fangs, which set them apart from the common order of nature, breaking the harmony of the world. They would sink their jagged teeth into the skin and gnaw upon the bones of unsuspecting men, dragging their broken bodies to nests forged in the heart of molten rocks built in the high sky.

These creatures, capable of soaring across the heavens with wings that defied reason—vast and powerful—could span the heavens, forcefully ruled the skies with an iron grip, a terror unmatched by any other force. Berk, the beast of the archipelago, stood as a testament to the fragility of peace amidst a history of unyielding strife. A land carved by scars, scarred by the ceaseless struggle between its people and the creatures they dubbed “monsters.” told this story that had echoed for seven long generations, a tale of ceaseless strife and bitter hatred.

But it took seven generations. Seven long generations of struggle, sacrifice, and transformation for Berk to heal. The land had changed for the better—No longer did the people cower beneath the shadow of these mighty creatures.

A misunderstood child who knew no war was the reason to hit them with the realization that dragons weren’t vicious beasts whose sole purpose in life was to spread fear, but a gentle creature who were curious just as the people. They had learned, through years of conflict and understanding, to bend the essence of their deepest fears into something stronger—a bond forged in the crucible of mutual respect. Where there was once hatred, there now stood the beginnings of trust.

The villagers, who once spent sleepless nights bolting their doors and sharpening their weapons in anticipation of the next raid, now spent their days working alongside the very creatures that had once been their enemies, now companions in the sky, and partners in the pursuit of new horizons.

While the majority of the villagers had forged unbreakable bonds with their dragons, they wore their titles with pride—Riders, they were called, as though it were a crown, you stood apart. You were not one of them, you never will. You were not one who yearned the heights or the thrill of the wind in your hair as you perched atop a Nadder’s sharp-spined back or to cut through the depths of the sea with a sleek Tidal-class dragon beneath your orders. Your feet remained firmly planted on the ground—and truth be told, you didn’t mind.

It wasn’t just your fear of heights, though that certainly played a part. The idea of being thousands of feet in the air with only leathery wings and blind faith keeping you aloft made your stomach churn. While others saw dragons as mounts, instruments of power and glory to be ridden into the heavens. You became attuned to their every movement, their subtle shifts and nuanced gestures.

Over time, you learned how to read them — the way their wings twitched when they were agitated or how they softly curled their tails when they felt safe. You understood that a dragon’s body spoke volumes, even when they couldn’t. Noticing the shift in their posture, how their eyes softened when they trusted you, or how their breath would quicken if something was amiss.

You preferred to nurse them, to soothe their wounds with a gentle touch, offering comfort where others might only offer a quick, dismissive pat. Others would offer praise with the calloused palms of their hands, clapping a dragon’s back after a triumphant hunt, their actions rough like the bark of an old tree—kind in their own way but lacking the softness that true care requires.

That was the way you had always handled things in old Berk. Thankfully, no dragon has yet to be injured on the new island.

Then Toothless fell ill.

"[Name]! Oh, thank Thor’s maidens you're here," Hiccup called out to you, his voice strained, a clear edge of panic curling the words. His eyes flicked back and forth, darting between you and the frantic Night Fury pacing erratically across the room. Toothless' wings twitched uncontrollably, the delicate membranes brushing against shelves, knocking over bottles made of stone and glass, the contents spilling in chaotic arcs across the floor. Toothless’s eyes were wide, pupils tiny pinpricks of frantic energy. His mouth snapped open and shut, his sharp teeth glinting as if trying to convey something that couldn’t be expressed.

You’d seen Toothless angry, playful, even fearful before, but this was something else entirely. This was distress. What could have made such a strong dragon like the Night Fury become so distressed? What could he convey with his actions and movement that left no process of communicating plainly?

You’re bound to make a promise to figure out why Toothless was like this and help him if you could.

You turned, wiping your hands against the fabric of your cotton-sewn tunic, the remnants of purple crushed herbs leaving faint streaks on the cloth. The scent of the mixture still lingered on your fingertips, bitter and sharp, along with the sweet scent of wet flowers that hung in the unfinished hooked wooden roof.

As you looked up, your gaze met Hiccup’s. He was standing in the doorway, looking like a newborn yak with an amputee—his breathing labored as though he had just run a great distance of a race. Hiccup’s hair appeared matted and his eyes looked restless as they were doubtful. His chest was rising and sinking almost melodically. His face was pale, and his eyes were just as wide as his dragon’s, filled with that mix of concern and urgency you’d seen only in moments of true danger.

"Toothless?" You called softly, taking a careful step forward while trying to be calm, taking hold despite the growing worry in the pit of your stomach after seeing the dragon’s current state. He was scared. Toothless, although startled by your almost fretful tone, did not pay attention to you and continued with his line of thought oblivious to your attempt to soothe him down the situation. His ears flattened back at the sound of your voice, but his movements didn’t slow. In fact, he seemed more erratic now, each step heavier than the last, each twitch more desperate than what came before.

“What happe–”

His words tumbled out in a rushed whisper. "I-I don't know what's happening. One minute, he was fine, and the next... this." Hiccup gestured helplessly toward Toothless, who continued to pace, his wings stiffening and shaking. Toothless growled lowly, his body tense and rigid as he backed into a corner, his breathing uneven and labored. Every attempt to approach him resulted in a defensive response—his ears folded back, tail lashing sharply, and a clear warning in his posture that he felt threatened despite the familiar presence of his two trusted people.

Hiccup took a quick step toward you, avoiding Toothless in case it was to ensure that he remained calm, dragging a hand through his unkempt hair, his fingers gripping at the strands as he exhaled sharply,

“Something is wrong. He’s been like this for nearly an hour now,” the young Viking explained, his tone quieter but no less urgent than before. “It started after he accidentally swallowed a yellow eel. He fell ill almost immediately—developed a high fever, I think, then he became noticeably weak, and…” Hiccup’s body was taut, every muscle in him was bracing for the worst. His eyes darted to Toothless, but his dragon refused to meet his gaze, his pupils slit, with his body sinking lower to the ground, curling into himself, trying to make himself smaller in the face of whatever pain was coursing through him.

Toothless’s breathing was shallow, his sides heaving slightly as he fought to stay still, to hide the tremors that racked his frame. Hiccup took a cautious step forward, but Toothless flinched at the movement, lowering his head as if to shield himself. “He refuses to let anyone near him. Not even me,” Hiccup finished, the last words a quiet confession that only deepened the worry on his face.

“Won’t even let me close,” Hiccup whispered, his hand hovering just over Toothless’ back but never touching.

“Please, [Name], help him.”

His voice was flat, but his expression said more than words could. He didn’t fidget, didn’t avert his gaze. You nodded once, not out of reassurance but acknowledgment, and moved past him. His red tunic smelled faintly of iron and damp leather, his sleeve brushing yours like paper worn thin.

Toothless was lying near the hearth, his body tense. His wings were pulled in close. His claws scraped lightly against the floor, his movements uneven and sluggish. His head remained low, eyes dull, unfocused. There was no protest, no attempt to move away.

You crouched beside him and opened your satchel. The supplies were still warm from being near the fire—clean cloths, crushed herbs, a sealed vial. Your fingers moved without hesitation, but your eyes scanned every detail of Toothless’s condition. His breathing was irregular. His tail had a slight swish, and the skin around his jaw looked strained. Whatever had happened to him, it was already spreading.

“I’ll do what I can,” you said.

You didn’t wait for thanks. There was no time.

The fire had burned low, its glow reduced to a warm shimmer beneath the stones, casting gentle light over the room’s stillness. You knelt beside Toothless, your hands steady as they hovered near his flank, gauging the subtle rise and fall of his breathing. The fever that had held him in its grip for so long had finally broken during the night, and now, for the first time in what felt like hours stretched into days, there was calm in the air.

He started to blink slowly. His head turned slightly toward you, his nostrils flaring with a soft, measured breath. His tail, which had remained curled protectively around his body during the worst of his illness, loosened and stretched faintly across the wooden floor. His throat rumbled with a sound so quiet you almost missed it—a low, cautious greeting, like a voice forgotten, then remembered.

You inhaled deeply, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders all at once

“He’s responding,” you said quietly, almost to yourself.

Across the room, Hiccup sat in a slump against the wall, his body slack from the exhaustion of too many sleepless hours. The blanket draped haphazardly over his legs had slipped to one side, revealing a tunic stained with soot and worry. His head, tilted at an uncomfortable angle, rested against the beam behind him. Even in sleep, his brows twitched with unease, his jaw faintly clenched—seeming as if he didn’t quite trust peace to last.

Toothless raised his weight, testing the strength in his limbs. He paused once, winced slightly, then adjusted his stance. The tremors that had racked his body earlier were gone, replaced by deliberate, if cautious, movement. His wings stretched, not in full flight, but enough to show that he could. It wasn’t strength, not yet—but it was progress. More than you had dared hope for yesterday.

Then, with surprising care, he began to walk. Each step was certainly slow, the soft pads of his feet brushing against the floor with faint thumps. He crossed the room without hesitation, his eyes never leaving the boy in the corner. When he reached him, Toothless lowered his head, pressing his snout gently against Hiccup’s arm. A quiet, purposeful sound left his throat—not loud, not demanding, but enough.

Hiccup stirred. His eyes opened blearily, and for a second, he looked confused, as if his mind hadn’t yet caught up to what was happening. Then his gaze focused on the dragon in front of him, and everything else fell away.

“You’re awake,” he said, voice hoarse and raw. He leaned forward, one hand lifting to rest on Toothless’s head, the contact hesitant at first, then grounding.

Toothless nudged him again, a bit firmer, with a breath that seemed almost like a sigh.

You let them have their moment.

It started the moment you stepped outside.

You didn’t say anything at first—you assumed Toothless was just being clingy, the way most dragons acted after being healed. A little spoiled, maybe. Like a puppy demanding belly rubs and scratches behind the ears. You’d seen it plenty of times before.

But then he didn’t just nudge at your hand for attention.

He got closer. Much closer.

Without a sound, Toothless lowered himself until his head was resting across your lap, the full weight of his trust pressing gently into you. His tail, smooth and sinuous, coiled loosely around your leathered boots—not in a possessive way, but as if anchoring himself to you. Like he didn’t want to drift too far, even at rest.

Your hand didn’t stop moving. You continued to pat his head, your palm caressing from the ridge of his nose to the top of his forehead in slow, steady passes. The texture of his scales came to be familiar with your touch now—cool and sleek like river stones warmed just slightly by the sun. You could feel the subtle rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch, each exhale a quiet puff of warmth against your clothes.

Hiccup had been watching from just behind, peeking curiously over your shoulder, his brow furrowed as he eyed his dragon with a mix of confusion and suspicion. He knew Toothless better than anyone—of that, there was no doubt. They were best friends, bonded for life, closer than brothers. He could read the Night Fury like a book, from the flick of his ear fins to the way his pupils shifted in size. But right now? Hiccup didn’t have a clue what was going through his dragon’s mind.

Toothless was being clingy—uncharacteristically so. That kind of affection, that gentle insistence to be close, was usually reserved for Hiccup alone. Or, on rare occasions, when Toothless decided he wanted someone’s food and pulled out that ridiculous, wide-eyed look he’d perfected over the years.

He didn’t offer his head to rest across laps like some tame house cat. And he especially didn’t wrap his tail around someone unless he absolutely meant it.

Hiccup hovered just behind your shoulder, shifting his weight with an almost imperceptible unease. His posture suggested casual interest, but there was a tension in the way his hands fidgeted near the leather harness, as if he needed something—anything—to justify standing that close. He leaned slightly over, his voice low and deliberately nonchalant.

“He’s, uh… made himself very comfortable,” he remarked, casually, though his tone betrayed a hint of something else, pretending a study of the saddle straps that he himself had fastened not even an hour earlier—though his eyes never once flicked to the gear.

You didn’t answer right away. Your hand remained where it had been for the past few minutes, gliding in slow, absent circles across the midnight scales stretched over Toothless’s brow.

“He was restless earlier,” you murmured, eyes still on the sleek silhouette resting across your legs. “I think exhaustion finally caught up with him.”

Hiccup exhaled through his nose—a quiet, incredulous sound, the kind he often made when something didn’t quite add up. “Tired, huh?” he echoed, one eyebrow arched as he crossed his arms. “Right. Because Toothless is known for voluntarily laying down and offering his head like some… overgrown feline.”

“He’s been... different since he got better,” he said eventually. “Clingy, I guess. But only with you.”

As if prompted by the remark, Toothless flicked one ear back lazily and released a deep, sonorous sigh—a low rumble that vibrated warmly against your legs. Then he adjusted his weight just slightly, curling tighter around your boots in a gesture so deliberate it might have been smug.

“You know,” Hiccup continued, now frowning slightly, “he only gets like this when I’m injured… or if there’s leftover fish and he’s trying to butter me up.”

You said nothing—only smiled faintly, the pads of your fingers tracing along the ridges where scale met bone. The rumble of the dragon’s throat deepened—a smug, vibrating hum that practically radiated satisfaction.

There was a pause.

And then, perhaps against his better judgment, Hiccup added under his breath, “Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was flirting.”

That definitely caught your attention. You turned your head slowly, casting a glance over your shoulder with one brow arched so high it might’ve escaped orbit. Every line of your expression—your knitted brow, the sharp squint of your eyes, the downward curve of your mouth—broadcasts a very clear and unfiltered what the actual hell without needing to say a word.

Hiccup’s eyes widened, his brain seemed to catch up with his mouth a second too late.

“With you! I mean—not you—like, not literally!” Hiccup stammered, his words tripping over each other in a spectacular, crashing spiral of embarrassment, not knowing how to stop, he just continued. “Thors! Dragons don’t flirt. That’s not—I mean, I don’t think that’s how it works. I just meant—” He stopped himself again, grimacing and raking a hand through his already-messy hair, as though hoping sheer friction could erase the mortifying sentence from reality. “I meant dragons don’t flirt! At least—I don’t think they do. Not in any, you know, intentional way. Not that you’re—ugh, never mind. Just forget I said anything.” He was done for. Absolutely cooked. And you? You just sat there, rigid as a stone sculpture, your entire expression locked in a state of horrified disbelief—lips drawn in a taut line, eyes slightly widened, your entire face twisted into that exact look you reserve for the unfortunate occasions whenever Gobber absentmindedly scratches his ass mid-conversation in front of you.

“Oh, by Odin’s beard. I sounded insane just now, didn’t I?” yes, yes you did. You wanted to say.

There was a loud snort.

Toothless lifted his head just enough to crack one luminous green eye open, as if to gloat. If a dragon could sport a smug grin, almost as if he were fully aware of the awkward tension hanging in the air and relishing every moment of it. Toothless was wearing it now—his posture relaxed, almost lazily victorious, as if he knew something the rest of you didn’t. It was a quiet, undeniable triumph. Then, with the most deliberate motion imaginable, the dragon raised his head just enough to nudge your arm... right into Hiccup’s thigh.

Your hand collided with him before you could stop it—fingers landing just above his knee. His leg jerked slightly. You froze.

He froze.

Even Toothless stopped moving, watching you both with an intensity that would’ve been terrifying if it weren’t so smug.

“I—he—what is wrong with you?” Hiccup half-whispered to his dragon, voice strained.

Toothless gave a tiny, airy chirp and nosed your hand again, this time with more force, like a toddler shoving two dolls together hoping they’d kiss.

“Well, if he is flirting,” you said, eyes glinting with amusement, “I’d say he’s got excellent taste.”

Hiccup let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a scoff and a nervous laugh, quickly raising his hand to shield his reddening face. “Please,” he muttered, voice nearly cracking in desperation, “I’m begging you. Don’t encourage him.”

A soft chuckle rumbled in your chest, the sound barely escaping as you continued to run your fingers along the smooth curve of Toothless’s jaw.

“Relax, Chief,” you teased lightly, your tone as calm as ever, well, nervous also, “I think your dragon just likes being pampered.”

“You know what,” he muttered, his hands already pulling toward the saddle straps, “I think his saddles make him itchy. I should change it.”

It continued after

New Berk lay quiet in the late afternoon, blanketed in the mellow hush that followed a long day’s labor. The skies were stained in hues of peach and gold, the sun dipping low behind the ridge, its last light brushing the rooftops with amber fire. Down by the dragon stables, you were crouched beside a weather-worn harness, your fingers working the frayed leather with practiced precision. The air smelled faintly of salt and dragon musk.

Toothless sat only a few feet away, his wings partially tucked, tail curled lazily around his paws—but his eyes never left you. That deep, verdant gaze tracked your every movement with a focus that was… unusually intent. For a moment, you swore he was studying you, like you were the dragon and he the expert.

The silence was broken by the familiar rustle of boots—well, boot, and the clink of a prosthetic leg against gravel. “Got the saddle gear you wanted—oh, hey, looks like someone started without me,” Hiccup called out

You offered a small smile. “Just got started. Figured I’d prep the straps while I waited.”

You glanced up as he jogged toward you, the dying light of the sun catching the mess of buckles and saddle slung over his shoulder. His tunic, stained with smudges of charcoal, bore the marks of the day’s labor. A grease-streaked cloth hung loosely from one shoulder, and smears of oil lined the edge of his jaw like war paint, a testament to the effort he’d put in.

“Gobber had the replacement buckles hidden under a crate labeled ‘Definitely Not Dragon Parts.’ I didn’t ask,” he added, crouching beside you with a huff of exertion.

Toothless twitched an ear.

Hiccup began to kneel down beside you—but before he could get comfortable, Toothless leaned in. It wasn’t aggressive. Just a firm, intended nudge with his snout to Hiccup’s side.

Which, unfortunately, was all it took.

With a muffled yelp and a sudden lurch of limbs, Hiccup lost his balance. In one swift, ungraceful motion, he toppled sideways—right into you. The unexpected impact sent you crashing backward, your back hitting the earth with a startled gasp. The air whooshed from your lungs as you were flattened to the ground, Hiccup landing awkwardly above you, his hands splayed in the dirt beside your shoulders as if trying to catch himself, but failing miserably.

You both froze.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Just the sound of the wind and Toothless’s faint chuckle broke the stunned silence. You lay there, staring up at him. Hiccup, his face flushed and eyes wide with embarrassment, shifted slightly, trying to regain his balance, but his awkward position only seemed to deepen the comedic nature of the situation.

“I—I swear that wasn’t me—he bumped me, I swear!” Hiccup stammered, his voice cracking under the strain of sheer mortification. His entire face flushed a vibrant crimson as if the embarrassment alone might send his ears into flames.

Toothless, meanwhile, let out a low, throaty trill—undeniably smug—before flopping onto his side with a soft fwump. He stretched his wings in a manner that could only be described as exaggerated satisfaction, purring contentedly like a mischievous feline who had just knocked over a vase and couldn’t be prouder of the chaos he’d wrought.

You laughed softly. “I think he’s trying to herd you.”

“Toothless,” Hiccup groaned, glancing at his dragon. “Stop it, I’m not a sheep!” He lifted himself just enough to look at Toothless, who was now shamelessly lounging in the grass, with an utterly smug look on his face.

Toothless chirped again—this time with what could only be interpreted as sure you’re not—and used the tip of his tail to slide a small stitched pouch directly between the two of you. The sewing kit skidded to a perfect stop at your knees, like he’d been practicing the maneuver all day.

“Yeah, he’s a real genius,” Hiccup grumbled as he shifted, trying to right himself. But the moment his hand pushed into the grass to grab the harness—wham. Toothless’s tail snapped out in a swift arc, tapping the small of Hiccup’s back.

And, just like that, Hiccup tumbled again. This time, he didn’t just lose his balance—he fully sprawled on top of you. His weight came crashing down with a perfect lack of coordination, and just like that, the last shred of dignity between you both evaporated in a heap of tangled limbs and groans.

Now it wasn’t just awkward—it was catastrophic. His face was far too close, hovering a few humiliating inches from yours. Everything else seemed to vanish. Your noses almost touched, and the proximity sent a rush of warmth through your chest that you didn’t quite know how to process. His hair, soft and surprisingly warm, brushed your cheek as he scrambled to push himself up, but instead of finding balance, he only succeeded in awkwardly elbowing you in the ribs.

The jolt of the impact made you wince, but the real sting came from the overwhelming closeness, the sheer absurdity of the situation, and the fact that neither of you could move without causing yet another small disaster. It was like the universe had conspired to take every shred of composure you both had left and toss it out the window.

Silence.

Well, except for the unmistakable sound of Toothless making a pleased little gurgle behind you, followed by the soft sound of him flopping dramatically onto his side like he’d just orchestrated the greatest comedic performance Berk had ever seen.

“I—I didn’t mean to—I mean he—Toothless—I swear he—” Hiccup stammered, his voice tripping over itself like a cart on cobblestones. He scrambled to push himself up, flinching every time his elbow threatened to jab your side again. His face was flushed a mortified crimson, a shade that clashed violently with the soot smudges across his cheek.

Hiccup looked like he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole. His wide eyes flicked to the ground, then back to you. You lay there, stunned, still half-flattened against the grass, your brain desperately trying to reboot from the shock of having Berk’s most awkward chief sprawled on top of you like a felled pine.

“I believe you,” you finally breathed, your voice catching somewhere between a laugh and a wheeze.

Hiccup’s face turned even redder, if that was even possible. “I—I’ll just… get up now. Slowly.”

“I swear,” Hiccup muttered, finally offering you a hand as he tried to extricate himself with the last scraps of his morality, “I’m usually much better at not falling on people.”

#httyd x reader #httyd fanfiction #httyd #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #hiccup haddock x reader #hiccup imagines #how to train your dragon

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bunnis-monsters · 8 months ago

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NSFW

A/N: My comms are discounted for a limited time for Black Friday btw. This is a kofi request, so if you want more then send me a Kofi~ it’s a snow leopard hybrid ^^

Being abandoned by your owner in the middle of winter was already not ideal, but being caught in a record breaking blizzard was definitely worse.

You could sense it coming. Being a cat hybrid had its perks, but you almost wished you were blissfully unaware of your imminent demise.

It had been a few hours since your owner drove off, leaving you in a torn hoodie and your thin pajama pants. He hadn’t known the risks of owning a cat hybrid such as yourself, and when you went into heat and started rubbing your scent on everything and biting him to try and claim his as your mate, he abandoned you.

It really hurt. You adored your owner, thinking he was different from other humans who simply saw you as a pet.

But you were wrong. He tossed you away without a second thought, leaving you to die. Had you really meant that little to him?

Despite your sadness, you curled up under a bench, shivering as you tried to keep yourself warm. Even being in heat wasn’t helping much, the ache in your belly only adding to the discomfort and pain you were feeling.

You wanted to be warm, to nest and be properly bred by a kind male. Maybe that was too much for a house cat hybrid such as yourself to ask. Thinking you were worth something led you here after all…

As the snow only continued to fall, you tried your best to stay warm. It was only to try and find the most comfort you could while waiting for your death.

You weren’t accustomed to taking care of yourself. Ever since your birth, food had been handed to you, beautiful clothes and jewelry adorning your body when it came time for you to be presented before humans for sale.

Before this, you had never worried about warmth or sustenance, simply relying on your owner.

What else could you do?

As you thought all hope was loss, a scent other than the cold and wet smell of snow wafted through the air, a familiar yet strange one.

It an instant the bench was ripped from its foundation, a figure bending down to examine you.

Your vision was a bit blurry, but you could smell it.

This was a wild hybrid.

In the past you heard tales of such beasts, hybrids that fled to the wild to escape human subjugation, but because you were a pampered house cat hybrid, you had yet to encounter one.

“Lost, little one?”

Your tail puffed out as you let out a weak hiss, watching as the hybrid’s face got closer to yours. He smelled like blood, perhaps he had just procured a fresh kill and was looking to add to his winter stockpile.

At least if he killed you, it would be a quicker death than freezing. Perhaps this was some kind of twisted mercy…

But you never felt his fangs puncture your throat, instead your hoodie was being bitten, your body lifted and carried by his strong jaws.

He was taking you somewhere. Where? You could only guess back to his den. It would be easier to kill your there instead of risking the scent of blood being left on the snow, leading back to his home.

Although you were afraid, the big cat was warm. His breath fanned against your neck, and your body reacted against your will, producing enticing pheromones that told any hybrid nearby that you were in heat.

He was soft, and for some reason you felt something being wrapped around you… some kind of furs from one of his hunts. Why would he bother to keep you warm? Did he prefer his prey fresh and didn’t want you to freeze to death?

None of this really mattered to you. You were cold, hungry, and exhausted. If you slept now, perhaps you would be unconscious when the time came and pass on in your sleep.

So you passed out, too tired to even notice how his pheromones responded to yours.

When you awoke, you were in bed. Your owner had never allowed you to sleep with him, so this was the first time you had been in a human bed and not one for pets.

The blankets were made of the same furs you had been cloaked in before. You sat up slowly, still processing what led you to this.

Being abandoned right before a blizzard… nearly freezing to death… a wolf hybrid taking you with him…

It was a lot to think about, and even with a now well rested mind your head was still spinning. Maybe a meal would help you make sense of this…

“You’re awake…”

You stiffened at the voice, your blood running cold. When you finally found the courage to turn and look at the source of it, you nearly passed out again.

In the doorway was a snow leopard hybrid, his cat ears flicking as he stared down at you. He was nearly twice your size, and thoughts of you beating him in a fight went down the drain immediately.

“Thought you were a goner for a bit. Tougher than you look.”

He spoke slowly, his eyes on your plump form. You weren't sure what he was thinking, and before you could respond your belly rumbled.

“Hungry, huh?”

His long, thick tail swayed behind him as he approached. Although he was tall, he was thin and lean, not the same type of terrifying a lion or tiger hybrid would be, but still holding the same predatory glint in his eye.

“Kittens in heat such as yourself have to eat.”

You felt your cheeks warm. Of course he could tell you were in season, your scent was probably overwhelming at this distance.

He tilted his head. “Not wild, are you? What’s a little thing such as yourself doing all the way out here?”

Your lip wobbled. All the pain, all the anger and confusion came bubbling to the surface.

“My owner… he just… he left me all alone… a-and it was scary, I…”

The snow leopard stared at you, letting you cry before he leaned down to lick away you tears before beginning to groom you.

This calmed you significantly, a soft purr rumbling in your chest. This was a comfort you had been denied since you had been separated from your litter as a kitten, and you couldn’t help but lean in as he licked back your hair.

“It’ll be alright. You’re mine now, my property. You won’t be cold or scared anymore.”

He rubbed his cheek against yours, moving his face to your neck and giving a harsh bite to your sensitive flesh, a clear marking of his territory.

While you ate, it was clear he was holding himself back from something. His golden eyes followed your every move, his tail swaying behind him almost sending you into a trance like state.

You usually ate whatever your owner did, even if it made you sick or upset your sensitive belly, but tonight you had stew, made with cat hybrids in mind.

Once you had your fill, your body was able to recover enough to start producing more pheromones. It was well aware there was a male nearby and that you were fertile, so it made your cunt grow wet and hot, ensuring you’d be easy for the average male to penetrate.

But unfortunately your stupid body didn’t understand the male before you was twice your size. He could sense your heat, knew that your body was trying to stir him forward.

He sniffed at you. This was the scent that had interested him. It wasn’t like he was cruel, if a female such as yourself was in need he wouldn’t just abandon you in the cold, but the fact you were plump and in heat certainly made taking you in much more enticing.

You let out a startled mew when he approached, his face burying itself into your neck. His tongue lapped softly at the scent gland there, his hands moving to hold onto your hips.

From the moment he saw you, he knew that you would be his mate. The bond had been formed before you even noticed he was there, and the snow leopard was eager to confirm it.

You smelled like heaven, a mix of your natural musk and some kind of sweet perfume your owner had you wear. Tearing off your clothes was child’s play for his sharp claws, and his body vibrated with purrs once he laid eyes on your naked form.

Already he was imagining your belly heavy and swollen with his kits, his hand gently pressing against the fat of your tummy. Being fat and plump was good for surveying the harsh climate where he lived, and it was important for females to be fed fresh meat throughout the winter.

His cock hardened, it wasn’t going to be easy fitting into such a small cat hybrid. Compared to him you were like a mouse, easily positioned however he wanted.

His fingers dipped into you, making you mewl and arch your back. You had already been bucking your hips like a needy little thing, your body desperate to be mated before your heat was over.

His cock stretched you out. It was unpleasant at best, almost painful as you struggled to take in something too big for you.

Even though he was being gentle, nothing would help when you were never meant to be bred by a big cat such as himself.

Despite this, your heat ridden body made it work, beat pooling into your abdomen as your gushed around his fat cock. Your tail twitched as he slowly pulled out and pushed back in without warning, a bulge forming in your belly from the sheer size of him.

The feeling of being ravished by him was… exhilarating. You were too small, too weak to do anything besides moan and writhe underneath him, letting the snow leopard use you as a living flesh light to be filled with his seed.

Even though it felt like you were being torn apart at first, his finger slowly rubbing at your clit and his tip hitting your special spot over and over has your cunt clenching around him before you could even think.

If you hadn’t been in heat, you most likely would have died during the mating session, but while you were in season your body produced so much more lubricant and pheromones that helped you take him inside of you.

You felt so warm when he came inside, thick ropes of hot and sticky cum filling your little womb. Your heat eased a bit as you were thoroughly bred. You knew that this would ensure pregnancy, even if all you had to go off of was instinct alone.

“Little one…”

He purred into your ear, keeping his cock inside of you to make sure none of his cum leaked out. His tongue licked at your neck and hair again, grooming you out of affection now.

“My mate, my sweetheart… I’ll take care of you, alright?”

And that was enough for you. Now all you wanted was a mate and somewhere warm to sleep with three meals a day. It was clear that he could provide that.

So you slept without worry, curled up with your mate, your new provider.

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko

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usagii-bun · 7 months ago

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𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑. jing yuan x fem foxian! reader (nsfw).

In which Jing Yuan, a man renowned for his unwavering control and discipline, finds that resolve unraveling in your presence — your every move, every glance, every touch igniting a fire within him he can no longer contain discovering an intoxicating solace in the sensual art of your dance, each sway of your hips pulling him deeper into an obsession he cannot, and will not, resist.

word count : 12k (12k words of edging)

warnings: explicit sexual content includes detailed descriptions of sexual acts (fingering, oral—f receiving, dry humping, thigh riding, implied future penetration), obssesed jing yuan, possessive jing yuan, slight power imbalance implied, erotic dancing/ adult entertainment , sensory overload, marking.

minors are NOT to read this story. If you are uncomfortable with detailed sexual content or themes of dominance and obsession, this is not the story for you. please proceed responsibly and at your own discretion.

DO NOT REUPLOUD OR CLAIM my work as yours. i have taken a lot of time to write this and it would be very disheartening to see someone claim something i took so long to write and craft.

anways, please do enjoy and leave a comment :3 reblogs, likes and follows are high appreciated

— usagii-bun <3

The moon hung high, casting a silvery glow over the quiet, cobblestone streets of Aurum Alley. It was a place where the night whispered its secrets, and the air, thick with the heavy scent of incense and mystery, carried tales only the privileged knew. Tucked away behind a discreet set of bamboo doors was the establishment—a brothel veiled in silence but brimming with the hum of indulgence. Even a general like Jing Yuan, weighed down by the armour of responsibility, found solace in the allure of its hidden embrace.

His feet moved almost of their own accord as he made his way to the entrance. Tired eyes, burdened by countless battles and endless politics, sought release in the only way he knew how—a brief escape from the turmoil of his mind. The soft click of his boots echoed, barely audible against the gentle wind that danced through the alley. And there, the door opened, not by his hand, but by a woman’s, poised and serene.

The Foxian lady who greeted him stood in the doorway like an ethereal figure, her beauty transcending time. Her skin was porcelain, her long, raven-black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall, framed by the glow of lanterns. Dressed in silk, her robes shimmered in shades of crimson and gold, the fabric clinging to her form in ways both graceful and alluring. She held herself with an air of elegance, her fox ears twitching lightly with every movement, her tail curling behind her in soft, languid strokes. She was an embodiment of allure, wrapped in silk and mysteries, every inch a vision of untold desires.

"Welcome, General Jing Yuan," she said, her voice smooth as velvet, respectful yet laden with something deeper, something more intoxicating. "Please, allow me to show you the wonders within."

With a graceful gesture, she led him inside, and Jing Yuan, caught in the captivating pull of her presence, followed. The atmosphere shifted the moment he stepped over the threshold. The entrance was bathed in the soft glow of lotus lanterns, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The scent of incense—jasmine, sandalwood, and something sweeter—hung thick in the air, enveloping his senses like a warm blanket, clouding his thoughts and easing the tightness in his chest. The walls were adorned with delicate scrolls, ancient calligraphy curling like the wind in a lover’s embrace, telling tales of forgotten empires and lost passion. Red and gold adorned every corner, the hues rich like blood and treasure, a royal reminder of the power that pulsed through these hidden chambers.

The floors beneath him were smooth stone, cool and polished, reflecting the shimmering silk curtains that hung like veils, concealing whatever lay beyond. The gentle swish of the fabric was like a soft caress, a whisper of something forbidden. There were flowers everywhere—tiger lilies, peonies, and chrysanthemums—arranged in intricate vases, their fragrant petals drifting lazily in the air, mixing with the incense to create a heady perfume that seemed to linger in his very breath.

As they moved deeper into the establishment, the general’s eyes took in the sight around him. Men and women, dressed in delicate silk robes of every colour imaginable, wandered freely, mingling with one another. The silk shimmered in the candlelight, revealing glimpses of soft skin and delicate features. Women draped themselves over men, while men held women in their arms with equal parts reverence and longing. The air was thick with the hum of quiet conversation, with laughter and sighs mingling in a sweet symphony that seemed to be playing just for those fortunate enough to be here.

"Come," the Foxian lady said softly, leading him up a staircase adorned with red and gold lanterns. "If you wish, you may enjoy performance privately upstairs."

Her eyes, sparkling like the night stars, hinted at something playful, something dangerous. Jing Yuan, ever the composed general, only nodded, his lips curling slightly at the invitation.

The night stretched out before you, the rhythmic beat of the music setting the pace for the dance that would soon unfold. Your heartbeat in time with the soft melody, the flickering candlelight reflecting off your skin as you prepared to enter the stage. The room below you were full of people—men, women, all draped in delicate silks, moving among each other in whispered conversations and soft laughter. The atmosphere was intoxicating, thick with the scent of incense and roses, the air so rich with desire it nearly hummed.

Tonight, you were not just a dancer; you were a vision, a creature of silk and allure, meant to captivate every gaze that fell upon you. You had practiced this for hours, days, months—the art of seduction through movement. As you slowly ascended onto the stage, the soft rustle of your costume, the shimmer of the golden jewellery adorning your body, set the tone for the entrancing spectacle to come. Your tail swayed behind you, brushing against the floor like a soft whisper, your ears twitching with the anticipation of the performance to come.

The room quieted, the hushed murmurs dying down as you took your first step into the spotlight. The soft glow of lotus lanterns, their flames flickering in the dim room, bathed you in an amber hue. Your body moved, fluid and graceful, as if the music itself was a part of you, guiding your every step. You could feel the eyes of the room on you—every gaze fixated; each breath held in anticipation of your every move.

From the elevated room above, General Jing Yuan watched. The scene below him was nothing new—he had seen these kinds of performances before—but this time, something was different. As you danced, his attention was drawn to you, like a moth to a flame. There was something in your movement that was unlike the others. The grace with which you moved, the way your body seemed to flow effortlessly with the music, drew him in. It wasn’t just your physical beauty, though you were undeniably stunning—every curve, every movement was perfection—but something deeper, something intangible. It was the essence you exuded—the confidence, the strength, the raw magnetism that seemed to pull him closer despite the distance between you.

Your movements were slow, deliberate. Your arms flowed through the air, a soft trace of elegance, while your hips swayed in time with the rhythm of the instruments, your skin glowing in the soft light. Each step you took was an invitation, each flick of your wrist a silent promise, each roll of your hips a beckoning. It was erotic without being crude, sensual without losing its grace. You were a goddess in motion, a creature born to captivate and beguile.

As you moved, your eyes flicked upwards, meeting his gaze for just a moment. It was a brief connection—one that he felt more than he could explain. His breath caught in his throat as your gaze locked with his, your eyes filled with an emotion that seemed to pull him in, deeper than he ever expected to go. The flicker of awareness between you made his chest tighten, and his pulse quickened. It was like you knew exactly what effect you were having on him, like you could feel his gaze following every step, every motion.

Your body twisted and arched as you danced, the silk of your costume brushing over your skin like a soft caress. The jewellery you wore—delicate chains, pearls, and golden rings—clinked softly with every movement, drawing attention to the curves of your body. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, intoxicating and heavy, as your tail swished behind you, swaying in perfect rhythm with your every move.

Jing Yuan, sitting in his private alcove, could barely tear his eyes away from you. He felt an inexplicable pull, a hunger that wasn’t just for your physical form, but for the energy you radiated. It was raw and untamed, a force he couldn’t quite explain, yet he felt it in every fibre of his being. His hands clenched at his sides as the tension built in his chest, a wave of heat spreading through him. His body reacted against his will, betraying him as he watched you.

You were no longer just a dancer. You were the embodiment of something else—something deeper, more primal. You were pulling him into a world he hadn’t known he was even willing to enter, and for the first time in a long time, he felt something—something he hadn’t felt in years. The weight of his responsibilities, his title, the endless wars and battles that had marked his life, seemed to fade into the background. They no longer mattered.

The music picked up, becoming more intense, the tempo quickening. Your movements followed suit, each step becoming more deliberate, more daring. The room was alive with the heat of desire, the air crackling with tension. Jing Yuan’s breath caught in his throat, your body undulating in a way that was both art and allure. You were making a show of it—of him—and for the first time in a long time, it was his turn to be caught.

The music slowed, and you took your final step, the dance reaching its end. Your body twisted, swayed, and your movements grew more subtle, teasing. As the final note of the music played, the room fell into a hushed silence. Jing Yuan remained frozen, captivated by your performance. His mind buzzed with a million thoughts, none of them clear, none of them rational. All he knew was that he needed to be closer to you, to taste whatever you were offering.

As the lights dimmed and the room came back to life with murmurs and applause, Jing Yuan finally found his voice. He leaned forward, his gaze never leaving you. “Can I… request her?” His words were barely above a whisper, filled with an urgency that surprised even him.

The Foxian lady, who had been watching with knowing eyes, nodded with a smile. "Of course, General Jing Yuan. She is yours for the evening."

The air inside the private alcove was thick with a sensual tension, the dim light casting soft shadows around the space. Jing Yuan sat back in a velvet-covered chair, his posture commanding yet relaxed. His mind was still reeling from the magnetic performance he'd witnessed, but now, as he sat alone in this private setting, the anticipation built again.

The door slid open, and the woman who had greeted him earlier entered, guiding you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. Jing Yuan could now get a better look of you, the lingerie delicately adorns your body, the jewels that were placed on you still twinkled and shimmered under the dull lighting. Your fox ears were perked, stiff with nerves, and your tail swayed ever so slightly behind you, betraying your inner restlessness.

Your gaze never met his. You kept your head low, your expression unreadable, as if you'd become a different person. This wasn’t the confident, playful woman who’d mesmerized him with her dance. This was someone subdued, cautious, and perhaps even a little fragile. Jing Yuan’s brow furrowed at the sight, and a pang of something unfamiliar stirred within him. There was an undeniable sadness at the change, a realization that you were a contradiction, both in the freedom you’d shown during your dance and the restraint you now carried.

The woman who led you whispered softly to you as she passed by, "Take care of the general." Her voice was gentle but firm, as if entrusting something delicate to your care. She gave Jing Yuan a final look, a knowing smile before exiting the room, leaving the two of you in silence.

You stood in front of him, head lowered, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. The air felt heavier now, the sense of being watched almost suffocating, yet you remained still, as though obeying some invisible rule.

Jing Yuan studied you for a moment, trying to piece together the shift in your demeanour. His mind, clouded with the memory of your dance, struggled to reconcile the two versions of you. His large, calloused fingers lifted from his side, brushing gently beneath your chin, his touch soft but insistent as he lifted your face to meet his.

"Why do you not make eye contact?" he asked, his voice low, his words smooth as they hung in the air. His gaze was intense, capturing you as he locked his eyes on yours. You could feel the weight of his stare, the depth of it, and it sent a flicker of something through you—surprise, confusion, maybe even fear.

You blinked rapidly, trying to avoid his gaze, but his touch lingered, a slight pressure against your chin. You quickly averted your eyes, your cheeks flushing at the intensity of his attention.

"It is not allowed," you murmured softly, the words barely escaping your lips. "I am not allowed to look at the customer unless... unless told to."

Jing Yuan’s expression softened, but his curiosity remained, his gaze never leaving you as you stood before him, silent and restrained. His fingers remained on your chin, though no longer pressing, just gently resting there. He tilted his head slightly, considering your words. He couldn't help but be intrigued by the contradiction you presented: the woman who captivated an entire room with her dance now so reserved, so obedient.

"You are allowed to look at me," he said, his voice almost playful, though the undertone of command was still present. "But for now, I will permit your discretion."

There was a quiet pause between you both, as you silently struggled with the unspoken tension that now swirled in the room. Jing Yuan leaned back, his large frame sinking into the chair as he relaxed, his eyes never leaving you. "Come, sit with me," he said, motioning to the empty seat beside him. "Let us share a drink."

His invitation hung in the air like a challenge, but it was delivered with a calm, measured tone. You hesitated for a moment, still unsure of how to act, still feeling the pressure of his gaze as he observed you carefully. Finally, you took a cautious step forward, your body moving with the grace of a fox, and sat at his side, careful not to brush too close against him.

The room was filled with the scent of incense and flowers, but the closeness between the two of you heightened the atmosphere, thickening the air. Jing Yuan poured two glasses of wine, his movements slow, deliberate. He handed one to you, his fingers brushing against yours, and for a brief moment, the touch felt more intimate than it should have.

"You have a beautiful presence," he said quietly, taking a sip of his own drink. "But I can see there is more to you than what you show. Tell me, what is it you desire, in a place like this?"

You remained silent, unsure of how to respond, but Jing Yuan didn’t rush you. His gaze held a quiet intensity, as if waiting for you to let down the walls you’d so carefully constructed around yourself. The tension between you both lingered, a palpable force, as your bodies sat close together yet distanced by invisible barriers. Your heartbeat faster, your breath shallow. This was new territory for both of you. And for Jing Yuan, it felt like the beginning of something far deeper than either of you had expected.

You shifted in your seat, thighs brushing together under the soft silk of your gown, the sensation sending a faint shiver through you. The air between you and Jing Yuan was thick, charged with an intensity you could neither name nor escape. His gaze was locked on you, and every question he asked felt like it was unravelling pieces of you.

"Why here?" he murmured, his voice smooth, like the finest silk. "A place like this—it doesn’t seem to match your spirit."

His words hung in the air, and you found yourself twisting the fabric of your gown again, seeking some kind of anchor. "It’s... complicated," you whispered, your eyes darting away from his. But the way he leaned closer—close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him—made it impossible to hide.

"Complicated," he echoed, his tone laced with curiosity, as though he wanted to peel back every layer of meaning behind your answer.

You glanced up at him, and your breath caught in your throat. His amber eyes glimmered in the dim light, soft but piercing, holding you captive in their gaze. And then, he leaned in further, the space between you shrinking until you could feel his presence, overwhelming and intoxicating.

The scent of him—clean and faintly spiced—mixed with the sweetness of the wine he sipped moments before. The aroma seemed to curl around you, tangling with your thoughts. His lips were so close now, and you couldn’t stop your gaze from flicking down to them.

"May I?" he asked, his voice a hushed murmur, and his eyes searched yours, waiting. It wasn’t a command, as you’d expect from a man like him, but a request, gentle yet brimming with restrained desire.

Your throat tightened, and you nodded slowly, words escaping you.

His hand came up, fingers grazing your cheek before curling under your chin, tilting your face toward his. The touch was warm, firm yet tender, sending sparks skittering along your skin. Slowly, achingly, he closed the distance.

When his lips met yours, the world fell away.

The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush of lips, testing, coaxing. But then, like a flame catching the wind, it deepened. His mouth moved against yours with a slow-burning passion, drawing you in, leaving no room for hesitation. You felt the firm press of his lips, the intoxicating heat of him, and your heart thundered in your chest.

His hand slid from your chin to cradle your jaw, his thumb stroking the edge of your cheekbone. It was such a careful gesture, but the kiss was anything but. His tongue swept against the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you yielded, parting your lips for him.

When his tongue slid against yours, a low hum of pleasure escaped you, your hands clutching at the silken folds of your gown as if it could keep you grounded. He tasted of wine, rich and heady, and the faintest hint of something sweeter, something entirely him.

His other hand moved to your waist, fingers splaying across the delicate fabric that barely covered you. The pressure was light, a silent promise of what could come, and yet it was enough to make your pulse race, your body alight with sensations you couldn’t control.

You couldn’t help but respond, your hands tentatively brushing against his chest, feeling the solid strength beneath his robes. His lips moved with a practiced confidence, but there was something raw in the way he kissed you, like he was holding back a storm, giving you only a glimpse of the tempest that raged beneath.

When he finally pulled back, his lips hovered just a breath away, his forehead resting lightly against yours. Both of you were breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with his.

"You’re... mesmerizing," he murmured, his voice rough and low, as though the words had been dragged from somewhere deep within him.

You opened your eyes, and his gaze bore into yours, intense and unyielding. His thumb brushed against your swollen lips, and you could see the faint flush dusting his cheeks, a rare crack in his usual composure.

"I’ve wanted to do that," he admitted, his voice softer now, "since the moment I saw you."

Your heart raced, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, the weight of his confession crashing over you like a wave. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns against your skin, and you knew—this was only the beginning.

Jing Yuan’s hands were impossibly large, their warmth seeping through the sheer silk draped over your body as they slid down, slow and deliberate. His touch felt like a whispered promise, each fingertip tracing a path that left fire in its wake. You couldn’t help but shiver when his palms grazed the curve of your hips, his fingers splaying possessively over them as he was now on his knees between your thighs.

The silk clung to your skin like dew, yielding under his touch as his hands lingered, pressing into the plush softness of your thighs. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, as though he wanted to savour every second, every inch of you that he claimed. His thumb stroked a languid circle against your skin, teasing the sensitive flesh just below the curve of your hip, and your breath hitched.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice a deep, velvety whisper that seemed to echo in the dim, scented air. His words held a teasing lilt, but his eyes were dark, heavy-lidded with something far deeper than amusement.

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of silk and the faint crackle of a distant candle. His hands moved lower, trailing down the sides of your thighs as if he were sculpting you from memory. He paused, his fingers flexing slightly, almost reverently, before sprawling over the fullness of your legs. The pressure was firm but not harsh, his touch grounding you even as it left you breathless.

Jing Yuan’s head tilted, his silver hair catching the dim light like threads of moonlight spun through shadow. He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over your skin, and his hands tightened their hold on you ever so slightly. The contrast of his strength and the tenderness in his touch made you feel both vulnerable and cherished, like a treasure he had no intention of letting slip away.

"You’re exquisite," he murmured, his voice soft yet weighted, as though the words carried a gravity only, he could understand. His thumbs traced upward, following the natural curve of your thighs, his hands mapping you with a deliberate slowness that felt like an exploration, a quiet devotion.

When his eyes flicked back to meet yours, his gaze was molten, heavy with desire yet tempered by something gentler, something that made your heart stutter in your chest. His hands stilled, settling like a question, a challenge, as if to ask how far you would let him go. And in that moment, you were weightless, caught in the intoxicating pull of him, the world beyond fading into nothingness.

Jing Yuan's fingers, warm and deliberate, slid down to the edge of your thigh highs, the lace soft under his touch. He let his fingertips dip beneath the delicate material, brushing against the bare skin beneath, sending shivers coursing through your body. The contrast of silk and skin was electrifying, his movements unhurried as though he had all the time in the world to explore.

Your breath hitched, and you gripped the silk of your gown, desperate for something to anchor yourself. The sensation of his hands so close, his strength tempered by the tender way he handled you, made your mind race. The General of the Luofu, a man revered for his authority and composure, was here, knelt before you, his hands on your thighs as though you were the centre of his universe.

His thumb traced lazy circles against your skin, the pressure both teasing and grounding. "You’re trembling again," he murmured, the teasing lilt of his voice sending a new wave of heat through you. His silver hair gleamed faintly in the soft, golden light, the contrast between his composed expression and the intimacy of his touch almost too much to bear.

Then, without warning, he leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your thigh. It was a feather-light kiss, soft yet searing, and it stole the breath from your lungs. The warmth of his mouth lingered, a silent claim that left your heart pounding.

Your mind spiralled, the weight of the moment crashing over you like a tidal wave. This was the General—the General—his broad shoulders and imposing presence now knelt before you in an image that burned itself into your memory. The sight of him, his head bent, his lips on your skin, was something you knew you’d never forget.

Your pulse quickened as his hand slid higher, his palm pressing into the softness of your thigh with a deliberate slowness that made your body hum with awareness. He tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes flicking upward to meet yours, his gaze heavy with something that made your heart stutter.

"You’re beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice low and rich, the words wrapping around you like silk. His fingers flexed against your skin, and you swallowed hard, feeling as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you. The scent of incense, the warmth of the dimly lit room, and the weight of his attention made it impossible to think of anything else.

Your breath hitched as his lips lingered against your skin, so close yet unbearably distant. A soft whimper escaped you, unbidden, the sound trembling on your lips. "General..." The word was barely a whisper, carried more by instinct than thought, but it was enough.

Jing Yuan’s golden eyes gleamed at the sound, a primal intensity overtaking his usual calm. That composed facade he wore so effortlessly cracked, revealing something raw and untamed beneath. His lips curved into a slow, almost predatory smile, and you felt the heat of his gaze burn against your skin.

He leaned closer, his broad shoulders dipping as his face moved towards your clothed pussy, the faintest warmth of his breath ghosting over the flimsy material of it. The sensation was maddening, a tantalising promise that made your thighs tense under his hold.

Your ears twitched uncontrollably, betraying your spiralling emotions. You tried to steady them, but they betrayed you with every sharp intake of breath. Your tail curled and flicked at the edges of the plush cushions beneath you, the movement erratic, mirroring the storm building in your chest.

Jing Yuan noticed everything—of course, he did. His gaze flicked to your twitching ears, and the corner of his mouth quirked, a dark satisfaction dancing in his eyes. His hands remained steady, sprawling over the plush of your thighs, fingers pressing just enough to ground you while still making your skin tingle.

"You’re so responsive," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air. "It’s captivating."

The warmth of his breath fanned over the delicate fabric again, sending a shiver racing up your spine. He paused, his lips so close yet maddeningly still, his eyes watching every tremble, every twitch, every unsteady exhale. You felt utterly laid bare beneath his gaze, a mixture of vulnerability and desire tangling in a way that left you breathless.

"Tell me,” he said softly, the words a mere whisper against the heat of your skin. "Do you always react this beautifully... or is it just for me?"

Your entire body felt as though it had been set alight, the heat rushing from your cheeks to the very tips of your ears as Jing Yuan's lips hovered ever so teasingly over your cunt. The blush that painted your skin deepened, spreading like wildfire, your hands clutching the silken material beneath you in an effort to steady yourself.

And then, his lips pressed softly against your pussy—through the delicate fabric that barely served as a barrier. The kiss was unhurried yet deliberate, and the sensation made you gasp, your heart leaping into your throat. Your thighs quivered slightly beneath his strong, steady grip as your body betrayed the flood of emotions overtaking you.

Jing Yuan closed his eyes, the scent of you filling his senses as though nothing else in the world existed. Sweet and heady, with a potency that made his mind spiral, it was unlike anything he had imagined—and oh, had he imagined. His fingers curled slightly against your skin as if grounding himself from the overwhelming allure.

The sweetness of it mingled with something darker, more intoxicating, and utterly unique to you. It was pungent but not overpowering—an earthy, sensual fragrance that clung to the air around you and pulled him deeper into the haze you created.

His breaths grew heavier, his mind clouding as the scent wrapped around him like an invisible tether, binding him to you in a way that felt both maddening and necessary.

"Addictive," he murmured, his voice low and rough, the single word almost swallowed by the quiet intimacy of the room. His lips brushed against you once more, this time lingering a second longer, his tongue darting out briefly to taste the fabric.

A groan rumbled deep in his chest, and his grip on your thighs tightened ever so slightly, his composure slipping as he inhaled deeply again, utterly consumed by the fragrance of you. His golden eyes, now darkened with something primal and insatiable, flickered up to meet yours—a blush still staining your cheeks, your wide-eyed gaze unsure and yet filled with undeniable need.

Jing Yuan's tongue pressed firmly yet gently against the thin fabric, a deliberate movement that sent shockwaves coursing through your body. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt, the warmth and softness of his mouth combining with the teasing pressure to ignite every nerve in your skin. Your toes curled instinctively, the sheer intensity of the moment leaving you breathless, as though the air itself had thickened.

His large hands, splayed across your trembling thighs, gripped you tighter, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh in a way that left you aching for more. The contrast of his strength against your vulnerability only heightened the whirlwind of sensations overtaking you. He groaned softly, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to vibrate through you, as if he too was succumbing to the weight of his desires.

Jing Yuan’s gaze lifted, drinking in every detail of you. The flush that coloured your cheeks, spreading down your neck and disappearing beneath the thin fabric of your gown. The way strands of your hair had fallen loose, framing your face like a delicate painting. The rise and fall of your chest as your breath quickened, each exhale shaky and unsteady.

He felt an unrelenting need to unravel you, to witness you laid bare, in every sense of the word. His hands moved slightly, his thumbs brushing slow circles against your skin, grounding you and driving you to the edge all at once.

His tongue pressed against the fabric again, this time with more insistence, and his lips followed with a lingering kiss. The heat of his breath seeped through, and it felt as though he was marking you with each touch, his presence imprinted on your very soul.

“Do you feel it?” he asked softly, his golden eyes locking onto yours as his hands squeezed your thighs again. “The way I want to devour you—piece by piece—until there’s nothing left of this composure we’re pretending to hold on to?”

Jing Yuan's grip on your thigh loosened as he let his hand slip away, only to settle firmly on your shoulder. The weight of his touch grounded you, but the intensity in his golden gaze sent your mind spiralling into chaos. His other hand moved with a deliberate slowness, two fingers brushing against the fabric that separated him from you, as though he were savouring the act of uncovering you.

He pushed the fabric aside, exposing your glistening skin beneath. The air felt cool against the heat of your pussy, and the juxtaposition made you shiver. Your scent—intoxicating, sweet, and unmistakably you—filled the space between you, strong and pungent in a way that made his breath hitch. His eyes could not leave the sight of your cunt, your clit throbbing, clear liquid oozing from between your glistening folds as he glances at your face, lips swollen and eyes teary – a sight that made his cock leak.

His eyes darkened, a glimmer of something primal flickering in their depths as he took you in. You were fluttering, every part of you trembling in anticipation, and it made his lips curl into a faint, knowing smile.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent, yet laced with raw hunger.

His hand tightened slightly on thigh, grounding you further, while his gaze remained fixed on you as though you were the most captivating sight he had ever encountered. The vulnerability in the moment only seemed to embolden him, and the way his breath fanned against your exposed skin made your thighs tremble under his hold.

Jing Yuan's tongue pressed against your clit, lapping up the sweetness that spilled from you with a deliberate, unrelenting pace. The warmth of his mouth against such a sensitive part of you was overwhelming, sending jolts of pleasure rippling through your body. His eyes, golden and intense, never strayed from your face, watching every twitch of your expression, every blush that spread across your cheeks, and every soft whimper that escaped your lips.

A low hum of approval resonated from him, vibrating against your core as he worked, his large hands gripping your thighs firmly to hold you in place. Each stroke of his tongue was purposeful, slow at first, then more insistent, as though he were a man on the brink of starvation, and you were the feast he'd been denied for far too long.

Your fingers clawed at the leather couch beneath you, the cool material a stark contrast to the heat building inside you. Your hips bucked slightly against his face, but his strong grip kept you steady, his mouth never faltering.

"General..." you whimpered softly, the word barely audibles through the haze of sensation.

At that, his eyes gleamed with a feral satisfaction, something primal and wild flickering within them. He groaned softly, the sound muffled as he devoured you, his tongue exploring every inch with unyielding hunger. The sight of him—so composed, so regal—reduced to this raw, unrestrained desire sent your mind spinning, leaving you trembling under his touch.

Jing Yuan's tongue dragged deliberately against your slick folds, his pace torturous yet intoxicating. Without a word, two of his thick fingers slid down, pressing against your entrance before sinking into you without warning. The stretch was immediate, a mix of pleasure and intensity that tore a loud whimper from your lips. Your body arched into his touch, thighs trembling uncontrollably as your breath hitched.

"General... General..." The title fell from your lips in a broken chant, each syllable a prayer as your mind spiralled. Nothing else existed beyond the overwhelming sensations he wrought upon your body—his tongue flicking expertly up and down your slick heat, his lips closing around the sensitive bud that made your vision blur.

His fingers curled inside you, finding that spot that made your entire body jolt. He pressed into it mercilessly, dragging a sob from your throat as your thighs quaked against his face. His other hand gripped your thigh tightly, holding you still as he worked with relentless precision.

The wet, obscene sounds of his tongue and fingers filled the air, mingling with your soft cries and whimpers. Your world narrowed to the molten heat pooling low in your belly, each flick of his tongue and curl of his fingers sending you closer to the edge.

He sucked on the swollen bundle of nerves, his tongue circling with maddening skill. You sobbed his name again, your thighs trembling, your body barely able to keep up with the intensity of his actions. Through the haze, you felt the curve of his lips against you—a smirk, as though he took pride in unravelling you completely.

Your vision blurred, tears threatening to spill as a tight knot in your stomach coiled and twisted unbearably. Each thrust of Jing Yuan's fingers pressed against that devastating spot inside you, sending shockwaves through your trembling frame. Your eyes rolled back, a broken cry escaping your lips as the tension snapped, pleasure washing over you like a tidal wave.

Your entire body quivered, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as the release tore through you, leaving you gasping and breathless. But Jing Yuan didn't stop. His fingers maintained their relentless rhythm, coaxing you through the aftershocks, prolonging every moment of your bliss.

You felt his warm tongue, soft yet firm, trailing along your folds as he licked up every drop of your release. His eyes, golden and piercing, never left your face. He seemed captivated by the way your lips parted, the flush painting your cheeks, the glazed look in your eyes.

"You're beautiful," he murmured softly, his voice thick with reverence and desire, the words vibrating against your sensitive skin as he placed a soft kiss against your fluttering clit. His gaze was heavy with pride and satisfaction, as though committing the sight of you undone to memory. He slowly moves up your body, Jing Yuan’s lips traced a delicate path up your neck, each soft kiss like a whispered secret against your skin. The air between you thickened with warmth, every subtle movement drawing you deeper into the moment. He paused just below your ear, his breath mingling with yours, before he reached out for the bottle of alcohol and took a slow, deliberate swig of the sweet alcohol. He placed the bottle down and he finally met your gaze, something unspoken passed between you.

With a gentle but firm pull, he lifted you, as if in a trance, and brought your lips to his. The kiss was tender at first, like a soft brush of silk, but then it deepened, becoming something slower, more languid. The sweet taste of the alcohol seeped into your mouth, dribbling out of the corner of your lip as you moaned when his tongue brushed against yours, the alcohol, sweet and intoxicating with the taste of your essences mingled between your tongues, each shared taste adding to the heat building between you. He tasted you and you tasted him, the kiss a slow, sensual exchange, each second stretching out as if the world outside ceased to exist.

You could feel the warmth of the alcohol in your veins, but it was nothing compared to the warmth that spread through your chest as his hands held you close, pulling you deeper into him. The kiss deepened, became more desperate, yet still slow—each movement deliberate, a beautiful rhythm of lips and tongue, a dance that belonged only to the two of you. Time seemed to stretch, the room fading away as you lost yourself in the sweetness of the moment, the alcohol, and the slow burn of his kiss.

Jing Yuan’s lips lingered against yours for a moment longer, his breath warm on your skin, before he slowly pulled away. His tongue tracing the bit of alcohol that dribbled out of your mouth, gaze intense and molten. The world seemed to pause for a heartbeat, leaving you suspended in the air between his touch and his gaze. Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited, uncertain of what he might do next, but instead of drawing you back into his embrace, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, the gentle gesture so tender it made your breath catch in your throat.

He pulled away just enough to meet your eyes, and in that moment, there was a strange, knowing calm about him. “Thank you for the... meal,” he said, his voice low, smooth, and unhurried, as though savouring the taste of the drink, you and the moment.

His words hung in the air, unexpected and enigmatic. The meal? You blinked, a flush creeping up your neck, your heart fluttering in confusion. Was that truly all he wanted from you? Was it just a fleeting moment, a passing indulgence?

Your gaze dropped to his chest, your eyes tracing the contours of his form—strong, unwavering. His shirt clung to him in a way that made you acutely aware of the man standing before you. And then, your gaze caught something—he was...

Your breath caught, and your eyes snapped back up to his, meeting his with a quiet intensity that made your pulse quicken. But he only smiled softly, almost like he understood the storm brewing within you, before gently reaching up to pat your head, a small, affectionate gesture that sent a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against your hair, making your fox ears twitch involuntarily. The touch was so casual, yet somehow it deepened the flush that spread across your face, your heart racing at the intimacy of the moment. It was a small, almost teasing action, but it made you feel as though you were suddenly laid bare in front of him.

His smile softened, his eyes warm yet impossibly distant, as though he were saying goodbye without words. “I enjoyed your company,” he said, the weight of his words settling between you like an unspoken promise that felt both comforting and impossible to decipher. “I will be anticipating another dance soon, until than darling.” His voice smooth as honey, your face turning crimson at the word ‘darling’.

His gaze lingered on you for a beat longer, filled with a complexity you couldn't understand, before he turned and left the private area. The soft sound of his footsteps faded, but his presence remained, lingering in the air, as if he had never really left at all.

You stood there, the room suddenly feeling too large, too empty. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ The question echoed in your mind, drowning out the quiet hum of the space. He had seemed so... needy, as though there was something more. And yet, now he was gone, leaving you with nothing but his words and the warmth of his touch.

Why didn’t he want more? You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was left unfinished, the desire you felt mirrored in the air between you. Why had he stopped? Why hadn't he sought what you had both seemed to crave? It was as if your body had been aching for something deeper, and yet he had held back.

As the silence grew heavier, your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. The owner stepped inside; her voice sweet like honey but with an edge that sent a chill down your spine.

“You’re done for the night,” she said, her smile thin but knowing. “You can go home now.” Confusion clouded your thoughts. “But... I thought you only let me go after twelve?”

The owner’s smile grew, as though your question amused her. “I won’t be needing you until I call for you,” she replied, her tone light but filled with something more. A finality? You weren’t sure. The words left you unsettled, uncertain of what she truly meant.

She reached into her pocket and handed you something—a silky pouch. The weight of it felt strange in your hand. “Here’s your pay from the General,” she said, her voice dripping with a sort of satisfaction that you couldn't place. “You sure did make him happy.”

Your mind whirled. Made him happy? The words bounced in your skull, unanswered questions stirring within you like a storm. What had just happened? What had you been to him? The idea of him leaving with only that—just that—felt like a question mark lingering in the air. He had seemed so close, so wanting, and yet he left.

The thought of the lingering kiss, the sweet warmth of the alcohol shared between you both, made your chest ache. He had left with a soft smile, but you couldn't shake the sense of something unfinished, something unspoken. Had you misread the moment? As you looked down at the silky pouch, the weight of it felt more symbolic than ever. The pay was there, yes, but the ache, the unanswered longing in your chest—it was something deeper, something that the money couldn't soothe.

The owner’s grin widened as she stepped back, her eyes gleaming with that same knowing look. You were left with the pouch, your heart full of questions, but no answers.

Jing Yuan hadn’t been himself lately, and he knew it. No matter how many duties he fulfilled or how much paperwork he completed or the many sneaky naps he took, his thoughts consistently drifted back to you. He couldn’t erase the memory of your skin beneath his hands—soft and warm, the kind of touch that lingered even after parting. Nor could he forget the taste of you, intoxicating and sweet, or the way your body moved with such elegance and allure during your dances.

It had been nearly a month since Jing Yuan began seeking you out, yet with each encounter, his fascination deepened into an obsession. He couldn’t get enough of you—the way you moved, the sound of your voice, the way your presence filled the room and consumed his thoughts. After every performance, he would reward you in ways that left you trembling, his mouth devoutly working between your thighs, tongue lapping at every drop of your arousal as his fingers thrust deeply into your slick heat. Yet, he never allowed you to touch him, never let you return the favour. His pleasure came solely from your moans, the way your body responded to his touch, and the sight of your unravelling beneath him. He would grind against his own restraint, rutting against his pants, hard and aching, but never crossing the line. He wanted to wait for the perfect moment, the right time to claim you fully—a moment that would be as unforgettable as you were to him.

It wasn’t just your beauty that consumed him, though it had ensnared him first. It was the quiet calmness you exuded, a soft-spoken grace that contrasted so deeply with the fire of your movements. The way your tail swayed behind you, how your ears twitched in subtle reaction to the world around you—it was as if you were always caught between serenity and mischief. The thought of you was a constant hum in his mind, an ache he could not shake.

He found himself wandering the streets of the city more often now – much to Fu xuan dismissal, hoping to find distractions from you. Yet even his usual escapes held no relief. And today was no exception.

As he strolled through Aurum Alley, the faint clinking of porcelain caught his ear, drawing his attention to a small tea shop tucked into the corner. He stepped inside, the familiar scents of herbs and dried flowers wafting over him, soothing but unremarkable—until his eyes fell on you.

You were standing near the back, your head tilted slightly as you admired the display of teacups arranged on a low wooden shelf. The dim lantern light cast a golden glow over you, highlighting the soft fur of your ears and the elegant sweep of your tail swaying absently behind you. You were dressed in a delicate white dress, its

fabric light and airy, brushing against your knees with every movement. The dress was adorned with tiny floral embroidery, dainty and unassuming, much like the way you carried yourself.

Jing Yuan’s breath hitched. He hadn’t expected to see you here, not outside the confines of your world of silk and candlelight. Here, you looked softer, more natural, yet no less captivating. It was a sight that made his chest tighten, as if the universe had conspired to remind him that you were always just out of reach.

You seemed unaware of his presence, your attention wholly captured by a teacup you held delicately in your hands. It was a beautiful piece, adorned with intricate floral designs, vines curling around painted blossoms, the base glimmering faintly with gold. You turned it slowly in your fingers, your tail swishing with a faint, almost wistful rhythm.

The sight of you, so enraptured by something so simple, made his heart clench. And when you set the cup back down with a small, defeated sigh, it took all of his willpower not to close the distance between you immediately.

Instead, he lingered, watching as you hesitated, your fingers brushing against the rim of the cup one last time before you turned away. Jing Yuan didn’t need to guess why you’d left it behind—the soft downturn of your lips told him everything.

He stepped forward then, his presence a shadow that fell over you before his voice, low and smooth, broke the silence.

“Admiring something, are we?”

You startled, your ears twitching at the sound. Turning to face him, your eyes widened briefly before you quickly averted your gaze. “Oh, General,” you murmured, your hands clasping nervously in front of you. “I didn’t see you there.”

He allowed himself a small smile, though his golden eyes remained fixed on you. “It’s a charming shop, isn’t it? Something here seems to have caught your attention.”

You hesitated, glancing toward the shelf where the teacup sat. “It’s nothing,” you said softly, your voice tinged with embarrassment. “Just a pretty cup. I was… just admiring it.”

“Just admiring it?” Jing Yuan repeated, stepping closer, the faint scent of his cologne filling the space between you. “And yet, you look as though you’ve left a piece of your heart behind with it.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you shook your head. “It’s beautiful, but it’s not something I can…” You trailed off, gesturing vaguely, unwilling to say the words aloud.

Jing Yuan’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—part amusement, part something darker. “A beauty such as that shouldn’t be left behind,” he said, his voice dropping lower, softer, as though he were speaking to himself as much as to you. “Nor should one such as you.”

Before you could respond, he moved, his hand reaching out to lift the teacup from the shelf. With a smooth motion, he turned toward the shopkeeper, the transaction over before you could protest.

“General—”

“Consider it a gift,” he interrupted, his tone firm but kind as he handed the cup to you. His fingers brushed yours as you took it, the brief contact sending a jolt through you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, clutching the cup to your chest. Your tail swished nervously behind you; your ears flattened slightly as you avoided his gaze.

Jing Yuan watched you with a quiet intensity, his smile never faltering. Yet, beneath his calm exterior, his mind raced. Seeing you here, holding something he’d given you, made something primal stir within him. You were no longer just a fleeting obsession, no longer a memory confined to dimly lit nights. You were here, real and tangible, and he wasn’t sure he could ever let you go.

Jing Yuan couldn’t help himself. The moment you stepped outside the tea shop, clutching the intricately designed cup he had bought for you, he was already glancing back at the shelves. He ended up purchasing an assortment of things—fine tea leaves, a brewing set that complemented your cup, and even a small silk pouch embroidered with a motif. It wasn’t about the items themselves; it was the thought of you using them, of you remembering this moment, that drove his actions.

He exited the shop with a bag in hand, catching up to you with ease. The sun cast a warm glow on the cobblestone streets, and your figure seemed to glow in the light. Your white dress fluttered softly with each step, and your tail swayed gently behind you, a detail he couldn’t help but admire.

“You didn’t have to get more,” you said softly, glancing at the bag he carried.

He chuckled, his deep voice warm. “It’s no trouble at all. Tea is best enjoyed with care, wouldn’t you agree? Besides, you deserve nothing but the finest.”

Your cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink, and you glanced away, your ears twitching. “Thank you… General.”

“Jing Yuan,” he corrected smoothly, his golden eyes gleaming. “When it’s just us, there’s no need for formalities.”

You hesitated but nodded. “Thank you, Jing Yuan.”

As you walked together, he took the opportunity to get to know you better. It started with small questions—your favourite teas, if you frequented the shop often—but soon, the conversation deepened. He found out that you were passionate about dance, your eyes lighting up as you spoke about it, despite the soft-spoken nature of your words.

“It’s always been something I loved,” you admitted, your fingers brushing the edge of the teacup you still held. “But… the work I do now, it’s not exactly what I envisioned.”

“Oh?” he prompted, his gaze sharp but gentle, encouraging you to continue.

You hesitated, glancing at him briefly before looking back at the path ahead. “The dancing I do now… it’s to pay off my father’s debts. It’s… different from the dancing I dreamed of as a child.”

Jing Yuan’s jaw tightened, though his expression remained calm. The thought of you, someone so poised and graceful, burdened by another’s mistakes, ignited a protective streak within him. He didn’t press further, sensing you weren’t ready to elaborate, but the knowledge lingered in his mind like a seed waiting to take root.

When the time came for you to part ways, you stopped at a small intersection, turning to face him. Your hands clutched the teacup tightly, your expression shy but sincere. “Thank you again, Jing Yuan. For everything.”

His smile softened, and for a moment, his golden gaze held yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “I’ll see you later,” he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. You blinked, your cheeks heating up as you realised what he meant. You gave him a small, flustered nod before quickly excusing yourself, your tail swishing nervously as you hurried away.

Jing Yuan watched you go, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. He would see you later, of course, but not just as part of a crowd. No, when you danced tonight, it would be for him, and he would make sure you knew it.

The brothel exuded an even more sinful opulence. Red and gold fabrics draped like cascading rivers of silk from the high, arching ceilings. The air was thick with the intoxicating scent of sandalwood incense, mingling with the faint sweetness of lotus blossoms arranged in ornate porcelain vases. The walls were adorned with intricate scrolls of calligraphy, their elegant strokes illuminated by the flickering glow of countless candles. Every corner seemed steeped in temptation, every detail carefully crafted to blur the lines between reality and indulgence.

Jing Yuan sat alone in a private room; a sanctuary veiled by velvet curtains. The plush cushions beneath him did little to ease the tension coiled in his body. A lacquered tray before him held untouched tea and delicate fruit, but his golden gaze never wavered from the stage below. The brothel’s ambiance—a sultry blend of murmurs, soft music, and rustling silks—faded to nothing as you stepped into the spotlight.

Your presence commanded every eye in the room, but his was the only gaze you truly felt. You were a vision of raw, untamed allure. The outfit you wore left little to the imagination, sheer fabrics clinging to your every curve, your skin gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat under the dim, golden light. Crimson painted your lips, a bold invitation, while the smoky shadow around your eyes framed them like a weapon. Your tail swayed with each step, teasing, enticing, an extension of the sensual rhythm that seemed to pulse from your very being.

The music began, slow and sultry, and you moved with a deliberate grace, every step a calculated seduction. Your hips swayed in time with the haunting melody, and the way your hands glided over your body had the audience mesmerized. To him, however, it was something more—a torment, a fire that spread through his veins and pooled low in his stomach.

Jing Yuan’s usually serene expression was gone, replaced by a raw intensity that darkened his golden eyes. He leaned forward, his broad shoulders filling the dimly lit alcove as his focus narrowed solely on you. His fingers tightened on the armrest, his chest rising and falling in steady, heavy breaths. The soft sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, the subtle arch of your back, the sway of your hips—it was more than he could bear, yet he couldn’t look away.

The room disappeared for him; the murmured conversations, the soft laughter, the flickering candles—all of it was drowned out by you. Every slow, sensual turn, every flick of your tail, every teasing brush of your fingers across your skin seemed crafted solely for him.

When your eyes lifted and met his, just for a moment, the tension snapped taut. That fleeting connection sent a visceral thrill through him, a silent challenge in the way you quickly looked away. His lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. The denial—the way you teased and withheld even your gaze—was maddening.

You spun again, your bold crimson lips parting as though whispering secrets to the air, your hands brushing over the curve of your waist. The sheer fabric clinging to your body teased him mercilessly, every contour revealed in the flickering candlelight. His golden gaze roamed over you hungrily, his breaths deep and deliberate as if trying to anchor himself against the storm of desire you had unleashed.

The sweat glistening on your thighs, the way your hair clung to your neck, the confident arch of your body—it was intoxicating. Jing Yuan could feel the heat rising

within him, his control slipping with every second. You were temptation incarnate, and he was utterly, completely ensnared.

Jing Yuan's hand moved to rest against his thigh, but the tension in his body betrayed the calm demeanour he fought to maintain. His fingers flexed, slowly drifting, palm pressing lightly against the growing ache beneath the rich fabric of his robes. The weight of his breath was deliberate, measured, but his chest rose and fell with an intensity that mirrored the fire coursing through him.

His gaze remained locked on you, unwavering, devouring. The way you moved-every sway of your hips, every arch of your back, every tantalizing flick of your tail-was an exquisite torment.

You were more than a dancer; you were an artist, painting desire across the room with your body as the brush and the music as your canvas. The strain in his muscles was palpable, his golden eyes darkening with an unspoken hunger. Yet even amidst his rising heat, there was admiration- appreciation for the elegance and mastery of your movements. The way your body told a story, the way your presence commanded the room, it was more than alluring; it was transcendent.

But the intensity of his desire could not be denied. The hardness beneath his robes grew, a throbbing reminder of the effect you had on him. His jaw tightened as his fingers pressed harder, a fleeting attempt at control. Every step you took, every glance you spared his way, only served to unravel the restraint he so desperately clung to. Jing Yuan's breath hitched, his usually steady composure unravelling. The beauty of your art left him enraptured, the sensuality of your dance leaving his mind clouded, his body heavy with need. You were a siren, and he was helpless against your call, a prisoner to the exquisite torment you inflicted upon him.

As your performance came to its crescendo, the room seemed to hold its breath. The music faded into the background, muffled by the pulse pounding in Jing Yuan’s ears. His hand twitched against his thigh, his entire body taut with unrestrained tension as you stepped down from the platform. Each movement you made was deliberate, a purposeful seduction that left his chest heaving, his golden eyes drinking in every detail of you.

And finally, you were upstairs in the room with him.

The space between you closed, and Jing Yuan felt his pulse quicken, a rare break in his usual calm demeanour. His fingers clenched briefly before releasing, as if bracing himself for the storm that was you. You stopped just shy of his seat, your eyes meeting his, bold and teasing, yet softened by something unreadable. The flick of your tail and the slight quirk of your lips only stoked the fire inside him further.

He didn’t wait.

Rising from his seat in one fluid motion, Jing Yuan closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. His large hands found your waist, pulling you to him with a fervour that left no room for hesitation. The moment his lips met yours, it was as though the world fell away. The kiss was urgent, demanding, and possessive. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was fire and hunger, consuming and overwhelming.

His lips pressed against yours like a man starved, tasting, exploring, memorizing every inch of you. One hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, while the other splayed firmly across your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping across your lower lip before slipping inside to claim more of you.

The taste of you was intoxicating, a heady mix that made his restraint crumble. Every small sound you made—a whimper, a sigh—drove him further into madness. The way your soft hands gripped his robes, clutching at him like he was your anchor, only fuelled his need to devour you whole.

Jing Yuan’s mind raced; his thoughts consumed by you. The way you moved, the way you felt pressed against him, the way you yielded under his touch—it was all too much and yet not enough. His hold tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin, as if trying to etch the memory of this moment into his soul.

He wanted more.

No, he wanted everything.

The desire coursing through him wasn’t just lust—it was something far deeper, more consuming. He wanted to know every part of you, to uncover the layers of your soul as thoroughly as he wanted to explore your body. The thought of you with anyone else sent a possessive heat surging through him, and the idea of keeping you close, of having you as his, was a temptation too powerful to ignore.

He broke the kiss only when breathing became a necessity, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady himself. His breaths were ragged, his chest heaving, but his hands never left you, as though afraid you might vanish if he let go.

“You’re driving me mad,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. His golden eyes bore into yours, intense and filled with something that bordered on obsession. “Do you know what you do to me? How every moment I spend away from you feels like an eternity?”

You didn’t respond—not with words. Instead, your lips found his again, softer this time but no less heated, as though silently answering his unspoken question.

Jing Yuan’s grip softened, his thumb brushing along your jawline with a tenderness that contrasted the fervent need in his kiss. He pulled back just enough to study your face, his gaze tracing every feature as though committing it to memory.

“You have no idea what you mean to me,” he said, his voice quieter now but still laced with that same raw intensity. “But I’ll show you. One day, I’ll show you.”

The promise lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken, as he held you close, the room around you fading into nothingness. For now, in this moment, you were his entire world.

Jing Yuan's gaze darkened as his hands slipped to the hem of your lingerie top, his breath heavy, his movements deliberate. With a fluid motion, he pushed the delicate fabric up and off, revealing the soft curve of your breasts. His eyes lingered, golden and molten, as though the sight of you alone was enough to undo him completely.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, voice thick with reverence and desire.

Before you could reply, his lips descended, capturing one pert nipple between them, his tongue swirling feverishly. He suckled with an intensity that left no doubt of his hunger, his large hand cupping your other breast, kneading, and teasing. Every soft moan and gasp that escaped your lips only seemed to spur him on, his groans vibrating against your skin as he lavished attention upon you.

His kisses trailed down, wet and open-mouthed, over the curve of your stomach, lingering at your navel before he retraced his path back up. His lips found yours again, searing and demanding, his hands never leaving your body, holding you as if you were a treasure he refused to let go.

Without a word, Jing Yuan sank down into his chair, his strong form commanding even in the act of sitting. His hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly to place you astride his thick thigh.

The moment your clothed pussy settled against him; his sharp inhale betrayed just how much he could feel. The thin fabric separating your body from his was soaked with your arousal, a warm, damp heat that sent a pulse of need through him.

"You’re already so wet for me," he rumbled, his voice a deep, velvety growl. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you to grind against his thigh. "Go on. Show me how much you want this."

The friction was delicious, the firmness of his thigh pressing against your most sensitive spot. Your hands clung to his broad shoulders for balance, your body moving instinctively to his rhythm.

Jing Yuan’s eyes never left you, his intense gaze locked on your face, drinking in every expression of pleasure. His lips quirked into a sinful smirk as he watched you lose yourself, your breath hitching, your movements growing more desperate.

"Good girl," he murmured, his words a heady mix of praise and possession. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding you faster, harder, his own breath growing heavier as he watched you unravel. "Let me see everything. Don’t hold back."

You trembled in his lap, your soft, perky nipples pebbled from the cool air and the intensity of his gaze. Jing Yuan’s large hands skimmed down your sides, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His golden eyes flicked lower, settling on the thin scrap of fabric that barely covered your most intimate place.

The sight made his breath hitch—a damp patch spreading across the delicate fabric, clinging to the shape of your pussy lips, leaving absolutely nothing to his imagination. The thin barrier split against the firm muscle of his thigh, framing you in a way that sent his thoughts spiralling.

Jing Yuan's jaw tightened, his head tilting back for a moment as he groaned low and deep. The image of your leaking cunt pulled taut around his thick cock flashed unbidden in his mind, the mere thought causing his grip on your plush hips to tighten.

"Not yet," he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, his restraint hanging by a thread. His arousal throbbed painfully beneath his robes, but he refused to let the tension break—refused to give in until he had you entirely, in the only way he could truly claim you.

His hands flexed against your flesh, fingers sinking into the soft curves as he guided you to move against his thigh again. His golden eyes burned with raw want, but there was something deeper there—something possessive, primal, and utterly consuming.

"You’ll have me, but not like this," he rasped, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath warm and heavy. "The only way I’ll give you my seed is when I’m inside you. Completely. Do you understand?"

The words sent a shiver through you, your body trembling even more as his intent settled over you like a tangible weight. You nodded, unable to form words, lost in the way his hands and his voice claimed every part of you.

Tears welled in your eyes as Jing Yuan’s strong hands gripped your hips, roughly guiding you against the firm muscle of his thigh. Each drag of your soaked core over the thick fabric sent shockwaves through your body, your clit throbbing with an ache so overwhelming it made your head spin. You clung to his broad shoulders, gasping for air, your cries a mix of pleasure and desperation.

Jing Yuan’s mouth found the delicate curve of your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he sucked hard, determined to leave a mark—a vivid bloom that declared you his. The sting only heightened the sensations coursing through you, and your moans spurred him on, his movements growing fiercer, more relentless.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your skin, his deep voice sending a tremor down your spine. His golden eyes, darkened with unrestrained hunger, never left your face, drinking in every reaction, every sound, every shudder of your body.

Your back arched, a broken cry spilling from your lips as the tension in your core snapped. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as your release soaked through the flimsy fabric barely clinging on you. Jing Yuan’s large hand splayed across your lower back, holding you steady, his grip firm yet comforting as he guided you through your climax.

You collapsed against his chest, your body spent and trembling. Your underwear, a soaking mess as Jing Yuan’s arms enveloped you, his large hands moving gently now, one rubbing soothing circles along your back.

“There we go,” he murmured, his voice low and tender, a stark contrast to the possessive fire that had consumed him moments before. “I’ve got you.”

His lips brushed against your temple, the touch grounding you as you nestled into his embrace, your breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

Jing Yuan’s hand glided gently along the soft, velvety fur of your tail; his touch light yet deliberate. A small, breathless whine escaped your parted lips, your cheeks warming as you instinctively nuzzled into the solid warmth of his chest. His scent, calming yet intoxicating, filled your senses, easing the tension in your body while making your heart race.

“M-My tail... it’s sensitive, Jing Yuan,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, shy and muffled against him.

He paused, his golden eyes glinting with curiosity as a faint smirk curved his lips. “I see,” he replied simply, his tone smooth, holding an edge of playfulness. Instead of lingering, his hand shifted to rest on your back, his large palm moving in slow, soothing circles. Though his touch remained comforting, the knowing look in his gaze hinted that he had filed away this discovery for some other time.

All Jing Yuan wanted, with every fibre of his being, was to bury himself deep into the irresistible warmth of your slick, aching pussy, to lose himself entirely in the pleasure you could give him. But he could not—not yet. Not when he knew you deserved more than just raw passion. He wanted to show you his devotion; to prove he was a man worthy of claiming you fully.

His chest rose and fell with effort as he reined in the primal urges clawing at his restraint. The soft tremble of your body against his own pulled him back to the present, grounding him in the tender moment.

Jing Yuan’s large hand moved to thread gently through your hair, his fingers combing through the strands with a soothing rhythm. “You did so well,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. His other hand continued to rub light circles on your back, coaxing you to relax as your breathing slowly evened out.

When he finally pulled back slightly, his golden eyes softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?” he asked, the question tender, yet filled with an underlying intensity that promised this was not a mere casual invitation.

The warmth of his gaze and the sincerity in his voice made your heart flutter. You blinked up at him, dazed and blushing, but managed a shy nod, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “I’d like that.”

His smile widened, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Good,” he murmured, already envisioning how he would make the evening one you would never forget.

Author’s Note:

Part 2 ? Dinner turns into a full-on session of raw fucking cause reader got her heat ? :3

reblogs, likes, comments, and follows are highly appreciated <3

also check out my masterlist if u are interested in any of my other works <3

if you want u can check out my ko-fi <3

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ozziesdisco · 11 months ago

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We need to talk more about Nam Ji Ah like woman didn't jump off a building, inject a nine tailed fox, brave through blindness, escape a dream reality, get possessed by a million year old creature and kind of control it, annoy the god of death to the point where she HAD to reverse a decision she made, and generally be unfazed by whatever supernatural crap is going on and handle it like a boss to be the most underrated character in HER show

#tale of the nine tailed #nam ji ah #see i feel like the focus is a lot on yeon and rang #which i mean sure thats cool but its not for me #but i feel like because of that we dont really talk about nam ji ah #and thats kind of sad because shes easily one of my favourite kdrama female leads of all time #and she needs to be appreciated more

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lighting-and-shadow · 2 months ago

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Ikigai, Part 9: Shifting Dynamics

Summary: Old friends, new friends, and two not-so friends.

Ikigai (n.) (Japanese): "A reason for being," the thing that gets you up in the morning.

Trigger Warnings: brief mentions of suicide, romanticization of suicide, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of murder

Part 8 | Part 10 | Series Masterlist | LADS Masterlist

“Have fun.”

His voice is light, teasing like it usually is. But you can tell there's something more underneath that facade. Even as Sylus hands you his black card, you know there's more there.

He’s unsatisfied with something. He wants something.

It's the way he looks at you. Like he's craving. Hungry. You don't see this side of him often, but it usually comes out during when you need to dress fancy for some party or gathering.

Don't dwell on it. You have work to do.

You snatch his card from him, careful to not even graze his skin. His touch has a way of distracting you. And those kinds of distractions are the last thing you need.

“We shall.”

Sylus gives you a strange look. You just stare on forward, beckoning him to give you the card. Then he chuckles and his eyes soften to that special gaze that makes your heart melt before he hands it over. God are you glad things are at least semi-normal between the two of you.

You lean into Miss Hunter, loop your arms through hers, and begin to walk away.

“Me and Miss Hunter are off. Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure she isn’t too good of bait.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Miss Hunter mutters.

“And I am hardly a babysitter,” you smile at her. “I’m merely looking out for my new friend because she’s clearly a trouble magnet.”

Miss Hunter scoffs at you. Sylus just watches the two of you with a smile that speaks to something deeper in you.

“And you? Who will keep an eye on you, sweetie?”

“Everyone,” you reply with a smirk. “Because that’s my job.”

That’s why he called you Gamayun, after all. Because you bewitch and charm people with the words from your mouth. Sometimes you told truths, hidden prophecies and tales of the past. Sometimes you told lies, dark exaggerated whispers and catatraphizing things from the smallest details.

Gamayun wasn’t just an empty promise of Sylus’ love. It's more than that. It’s your story. It’s you. And that’s why you love the nickname so much despite the pain it causes.

You exchange a look with Sylus before he leaves to deal with the traitor. His carmine eyes and heartfelt expression draw you in. For a moment, he’s the siren between the two of you.

But than the god of death that he is, and the origin of your own nickname for him, claws its way to overlap that beautiful face of his. That part of him is struggling to come out right now. He doesn’t want to become that fearsome person, and just remain in his other state.

He stays loyal to his duty, though. Much like you do. You wish you both didn't have to.

You focus on Miss Hunter in order to drown out those thoughts. Watching her go wild with Sylus’ card, after you encouraged her multiple times to do so, brings a smile to your face.

But, at the same time, you can’t help but mentally check out. Your mind drifts to simpler times. Times before you were in love with a taken man and the two of you were just boss and employee.

The hostess of the gala stands out in her intricate blue dress. Crushed seashells along her trim dazzle like diamonds. Her deep blue makeup perfectly complements her pale skin.

Just her getup alone reminds you of the mermaids you've seen in books as a kid. Her flickers make the semblance all the more obvious.

Flashes of tattoos on her face and a scaly tail where her legs should be. They bring with them a hum in the air, and the scent of salt. But they vanish just as quickly as they come.

She's beautiful in both states. Beautiful and deceptively fragile.

Because if someone was just looking at her for the first time with no context, they couldn't imagine the sheer amount of blood on her hands.

Kai is a delicate woman, small and unassuming. But you know better from the stories you’ve dug up and the ones your boss has told you.

”A woman with an ice-cold heart,” all the rumors said. Sylus just said she’s a ruthless cockroach unwilling to die, which he could respect.

She seems so untouchable. You and Sylus make your entrance to her gala, you in his colors and arms locked, yet she doesn’t even spare a glance. She just talks. Talks and ignores all gazes that turn to the new people in the room.

She may ignore your presence, but you can’t ignore hers. Not with that color that bleeds into her thread. Not with the stain of death that hangs upon it.

A dead soulmate, her thread reads. One that took his own life.

It’s the rarest of threads for you to see. Because most tended to follow their soulmates. A soulmate’s love is the most treasured love, after all. And to live without that love isn’t a life worth living in the eyes of most.

Maybe that’s why she has such a vicious repetition? Maybe that’s why she’s known for having such a dead heart? Because people sensed there was something fundamentally wrong with her, much like they do with you.

You chase those cursed thoughts away as soon as they come. They only bring misfortune, and tonight, you need anything but that. You need Kai’s fortune.

”This place is rather stuffy,” you comment loudly enough for the hostess to hear once you’re close.

Kai’s expression doesn’t change, but the look in her eyes do. They shift to one of curiosity and inquiry.

Most people wouldn’t dare to insult a party to straight to the hostess’ face. Especially when said party is being thrown by her. So as you've hopedd, she's drawn to you, even if she's unaware of that.

From what you've researched about her, she is a woman who values honesty. So while it may pain you to be so blunt, being forthcoming is the best way to sway her. That, and if you can find her single weak point.

Because someone like Kai doesn’t do all this without reason. You need to find that reason.

Of course, there were rumors. Secret children. Dying parents. But, seeing her in person confirms only one: a spouse.

Kai doesn’t wear a ring on her finger. She doesn’t even have a tan-line to indicate that she wears one outside of work. It’s her thread that tells you of another. You don't get the details. But this person, this mystery spouse, is kind. With a heart so warm it thawed even Kai's.

That’s who you need to find.

”Apologies, Mrs. Kerr,” you plaster on a genuine smile. “Didn’t know you were so close. I may look like a dragon at the moment, but I assure you, I do not possess the eyes of one.”

You fiddle with the fake, but realistic, horns on your head as you say this.

”Seems you got my gift,” Kai’s voice is smooth, but absent of any emotion.

”Gift, you say? That’s what you’d call this?” Sylus gestures to you and him.

For whatever reason, Kai decided to make her gala themed. Non-humans, to be exact. And you and Sylus are dragons, fiends, according to what she sent you alongside the two invites. Said invite had clear instructions on how you wouldn’t be let in if you weren’t wearing your designated outfit.

You knew from the second you saw the outfits (after getting over you initial shock that she had your measurements for some reason, and knew of your employment under Sylus so quickly) that Sylus wouldn’t be in a good mood during this gathering.

He’s already glaring daggers at anyone who dares to gaze at him for too long. And he’s touched his horns so many times, you’re surprised they don’t have handprints in them.

However, he still manages to keep that same arrogant smirk and carefree attitude. Or, at least, he manages to fake it enough to make it seem that way. You know better due to your power.

Kai seems to know better as well. She keeps her eyes locked onto Sylus as she briefly greets and waves off other guests. Her face remains blank, but her eyes and thread tell of amusement. She notices your boss’ discomfort just like you do.

”Of course it’s a gift, Sylus,” she casually says his first name when others would say it in fear or would just use his last name. “What else would you call this?”

”You don’t want to know what I would call this, Kai,” he spits out her name like it’s an insult.

”You’re right, I don’t. Maybe your new employee can tell me what she thinks of her outfit? Everyone else has just given me the best of compliments, so I’d like to hear something honest for a change.”

The two most dangerous people in the room give you their full attention. You take it in stride, relying on years and years of practice not to shrink under their judging gazes.

Starting to feel like we’re not on the same side, you think as Sylus’ eyes in particular bare into you.

”I find them quite telling, Mrs. Kerr.”

”Telling of what?”

”Telling of your relationship to my boss, and why he decided to drag me here of all place for our first outing,” you give your full attention to Sylus before you continue. “Speaking of which, said boss needs to make himself scarce if he wants this to work properly.”

Sylus tilts his head at you, leaning to whisper in your ear, “What do you think you’re doing?”

”Setting you up for success. Now shoo,” you whisper back into his ear.

”How demanding you are, Miss Negotiator. And here I thought I was your boss.”

Sylus’ tone is the same as ever, but the glint in his eyes tells a different story. One of how he doesn’t appreciate you ordering him around and disrupting your dynamic. One of danger and cautioning you not to cross a line.

You soldier on, “You brought me here to work. So mind your ego, and let me, because she and you clearly have bad blood and I’d rather not have to navigate that all night.”

Rather than taking offense by your blunt words like a normal person, Sylus just gets more amused.

”What makes you think we have bad blood? This could just be our way communicating.”

You scoff, glancing quickly to see if Kai noticed, but she's already back to greeting guests.

”Don’t insult me, boss. Even a blind and deaf person could notice how much you two want to rip into each other.”

A thought suddenly pops up in your head after you say this.

”Why in the world do you want to do business with a woman you clearly despise, and who hates you in return?”

”Ever heard of keeping your friends close, but keeping your enemies closer, sweetie?”

You jab him in the arm for the stupid nickname, one you’ve told him repeatedly not use on you because that sort of nonsense should only be used with his soulmate. He’s ignored you every time, too entertained by your flustered reactions.

”Business requires mutual trust, does it not?”

He laughs. “Not here, sweetie. Here, business can come about merely because two people want to spite someone else.”

He looks you dead in the eye with a sinister smirk, “Or because the desperation to live is just that powerful.”

Sylus finally walks away once he says that. Shivers run down your spine. His words are a reminder of why you’re really here, on why Sylus decided you persuading one of his enemies to work with him was your first task.

He’s measuring your worth. He’s seeing if he should keep you around.

For all that you two joke and banter, there’s always a voice in the back of your head that wonders if he’ll change his mind about sparing you. You may not have known what your old auction house was doing precisely, but there may have been others that died there that were the same.

You’re here to prove that you were different than those buried in the rubble. And prove it you would.

Kai turns back to you, “Finished?”

”Of course, Mrs. Kerr. Apologies for my boss’ behavior. Listening to reason isn’t his strong suit.”

You feel a bit guilty about insulting Sylus, but than you remember his numerous threats during your first week at his base and immediately brush that off.

”I get the feeling you and I know that better than anyone.”

”Tell me about it,” you roll your eyes before schooling your expression to a more serious one. “And now that he’s gone, how about we talk business?”

”Bold one, aren’t we?”

”I was under the impression you valued honesty, Mrs. Kerr. I’d rather not insult your intelligence, and instead would like to negotiate in good faith than deceit.”

”Good faith? From Sylus?” She sneers, the most emotion she’s shown thus far.

”Not Sylus. Me.”

”You work for him. Isn’t that the same thing?”

”If we were remotely the same, I highly doubt you’d give me the time of day.”

”Maybe I’m giving you the time of day because you’re similar,” Kai takes a sip of a drink someone had offered her, frowns, and than says, “Because at least Sylus is never boring. Two of him equals twice the fun, right?”

You laugh, “Two of that man would drive me insane. And I'd imagine that would be the same for you, no?”

Kai shakes her head in humor, face still as blank as ever.

”No, you’re right. Just the image in my head of that is nightmare fuel enough. Two of him means twice the explosions every time we meet, and I don’t think my people would want to deal with that anymore than I do.”

Her words give you pause for concern.

”Explosions? That’s a theme with him?”

Kai gives you a questioning look for you to continue.

”The first time we met he blew up my old workplace. Granted, my old boss deserved it, but still… didn’t think that was an every day occurrence for him.”

”I don’t know about every day, but he tends to explode something every time I meet him. Usually me. Granted, this is usually after we’ve had another… disagreement.”

She sounds proud of herself. That pride is wiped away in a second, and she levels you with a harsh gaze.

”He knows we aren’t friends. Or allies in any capacity. And that we’ll turn a gun on one another for the right price. So why has he sent you to me?”

That ice cold gaze of her beautiful eyes would freeze anyone else. Years of customer service and dealing with others far more trigger happy than her allows you not to waver.

”Because he’s testing me,” you decide not to beat around the bush. “Getting you of all people to work with him will prove my worth.”

Kai isn’t fazed by your words.

”And you think you can do that?”

You shrug. “Why not? You’re a woman of extreme intelligence, and you’ve worked with him in the past for the right price. I just need to find out what price will make you stay and what it entails.”

Silence falls between the two of you. And you almost believe you see the ghost of a small fall on her lips. But her face is back to its usual blank expression before you can even blink.

”Ya know,” there’s a drawl in her tone, an accent leaking out that wasn’t there before. “Most people are never this upfront. Even when being honest or acting in "good faith" like you claim."

”I worked at an auction house before Sylus hired me. Trust me, I’m well aware. But I find such conversation to be desperately dull. Much like most parties.”

”I hope you’re not including mine.”

”We shall see,” you glance around, looking for a certain something for a moment, but you spot your destination easily. “Aw! There’s something to spice things up.”

You gesture to her open bar.

”I wonder who suggested that? It stands out from the usual things at these gatherings.”

”My spouse,” you’re a bit surprised at Kai’s admittance; it isn’t public knowledge that she’s married, after all. “Sylus knows I’m married. And even he didn’t, you’d of all people would’ve figured it out.”

”You flatter me.”

The two of walk to the bar. Many eyes follow you, but no one dares to approach Kai.

You see Sylus in your peripheral vision, sipping on some expensive drink you’ve seen your old boss drink occasionally, and surrounded by people who talk at him. Sylus just looks at them bored out of his mind. His signature smirk is plastered on for appearance's sake.

There’s desperation in those people. For his attention. For his cooperation. For his money. And he just stands there with that familiar, arrogant, expression.

His eyes flicker over to you. You put on an award-winning smile, and that smirk of his deepens to a real one. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand upright.

Because he’s judging you, studying you in ways you didn’t think possible. This is the first job where you had any danger from your own boss; the others hired you under different circumstances.

You brush him off as soon as you get to the bar. You had a plan to enact, after all.

When the woman behind the counter turns to you and Kai, you give her a sweet smile.

”Why not take a break, honey?”

The woman gives you a look. Kai doesn’t react.

”I’ll take over. I was a mixologist not long ago, and I believe your employer wants a drink more to her tastes. You seem tired, and I’d hate to put any pressure on you when I’m the one being so nosy.”

Kai tilts her head at you before she addresses the woman, “Do as she says.”

The woman thanks you profusely, and practically sprints out of the ballroom. You walk yourself to behind the counter, scanning the spread of high quality ingredients with a keen eye.

My old place was never this decked out, you think to yourself as you search for just the right things.

You get to work pretty quickly, Kai watching as you fly around from shelf to shelf. But you avoid any alcohol like the plague. From what you dug up on Kai, and your observations of her thread, she hates alcohol.

Her father drank so much to the point where she had to raise herself and her brother alone. On his rare days of coherance, he'd throw bottles at the siblings, screaming how Kai's brother murdered their mother.

Her soulmate used to use it on their bad days before their death. Alcohol is symbol of dread to Kai, a painful wound that will probably never properly heal.

You can relate to that somewhat, with you aversion to romance. Not on the same level, but that’s what empathy’s for; you don’t need to have the same experience to have an idea of what she’s been through. That, and you can read her soul.

There’s turmoil as she watches you work, curiosity and a bit of fear mixing together to make a cocktail of emotions in her heart. Outwardly, she doesn’t show any of this. Her inner world is locked away.

Another thing you two have in common. You’ve been burned by the world far too many times to trust it with your fragile heart.

And it’s why you’ve been so truthful with her so far. Kai and you’ve been lied to and lying your entire lives. Shedding that skin and becoming someone that isn’t like that for her, someone she can trust… that will do far more good than any savvy business proposal or story.

So you work to give her a flavorful drink she’ll love, reading her thread and working in your experience to create the perfect blend. The second she takes a sip of it once you slide it towards her makes all the effort worth it.

”Not bad, Miss Negotiator,” it’s as much of a compliment you’ll ever get from the woman, and you'll take it gladly.

”Why thank you for the kind words, Mrs. Kerr.”

You give a little bow as begin your next drink. No one’s ordered yet, but some of Kai’s guests are curious and look at you.

The waiters obey your orders, delivering each personalized drink to correct person. An arms dealer here, and a jewel thief there. Each have varying reactions from mirth to shock to almost a little bit of fear over the strange woman who entered with Sylus knowing them so well.

Speaking of your boss, you save his drink for last. Both for the drama and because than that puts him into the spotlight once more. The mysterious bartender and her boss… eyes will turn to the both of you.

But, eyes are apparently already on your boss. And not for anything good. You watch the last waiter go with his drink and spot the towering man in a scuffle. He stands with his arms crossed, clearly having the time of his life. You can barely see him, but that much is obvious.

Now the woman that stands in front of him is anything but that. Her face is scrunched up in ways you didn’t think possible. And judging by how she looks, she’s screaming at him. Her getup suggests a rich heiress, and there’s only one of that here from what you remember of the guest list.

Miss Andrea Crimson, the only child and heir of one of the many gangs in the N109 zone. But the Crimsons were different; they’ve been here the longest, have one of the farthest reaches, and are infamously ruthless to the point where even Sylus and you cringe.

People have died by that girl’s command for the smallest infractions. Her father gives into her every whim. And there were rumors of there being a second child that was pushed out of the family because of her jealousy.

She also has a history with your boss. Once in love him, now full of a hatred you can almost admire for how deep it runs. To Sylus, she’s a nuisance he can’t get rid of; to you, she’s yet another obstacle for you to conquer.

You politely excuse yourself to Kai, who waves you off while sipping her drink. She watches you go, though. From interest in what you’re doing, or the commotion you’re going to, you don’t know. Either way, that little bit of attention she’s paying to you will work out in your favor.

Once you arrive at Sylus’ side, you’re not given much of an opportunity to speak.

”What?” Andrea spits at you. “You his new toy, now?”

That pisses you off. Originally, you were going approach this woman with kindness, respect. A little firmness, but nothing too crazy.

That goes out the expensive, decorated window to moment she addresses you as a toy. Maybe because of that phase you had as a late teen, throwing yourself at anyone as some poor way of getting the love you crave? Maybe because you’ve worked in several places that saw you as a mere decoration?

Or maybe it’s because of what she said says about Sylus? Your new boss is harsh, but fair. Terrifying, yet reliable. And hearing her say that, imply that he treats lives and people so cheap, chips at your very soul.

Moments like these make you wonder if your lack of soulmate makes you care so much, or you were stripped of one because you’d care for others more than them.

”Oh, get a hold of yourself, Andrea. I and many others do not have the time for to interrupting important business because this man would not fuck you.”

That shuts her up quickly. But you’re not finished.

”I get that you’ve gotten everything you’ve ever wanted in life until he said no to you. The drugs. The money that keeps coming despite all your failed businesses. The multiple affairs, some of which whose spouses are here. Even the murder of your own sibling was covered up for you."

You speak these words with certainty and authority as you get closer to Andrea. Her expression drops, and the blood drains from her face. Her dark skin doesn’t blush, but you can practically feel the warmth from her body.

”How did you…”

”I know more, Andrea,” you speak quieter, in her ear. “I know that you’ve stolen every little accomplishment from them. I know you framed them as the problem child while you were the perfect daughter. I know you stole their voice from them. And I know why you’ve really come here.”

”Why…”

”Do you really want me to spell it out for you? Surely there’s enough of a brain in that head of yours to not want to hear it?"

She trembles, and you relish in it.

”What do you want?”

”Leave my boss and me alone, and I’ll consider keeping my mouth shut. Because you have a treasure trove of secrets that I’ll be happy to spill if you don’t.”

Andrea shuffles away, head still hung up high despite her embarrassment. You can respect her for that much.

A slow clap from behind you causes you to drag your eyes away from her.

”Nicely done, Miss Diplomat,” Sylus’ ever present grin both amuses and frustrates you.

”I wouldn’t have had to do that if you’d have learned to keep that mouth of yours shut.”

”What would be the fun in that, sweetie?”

You internally roll your eyes at the foolish man before you. But, you plaster on your best customer service smile on the outside.

“Anyone ever told you that you’re far too aggressive?” Your tone is sickly sweet.

“Any suggestions I don’t consider are filed under “never heard of it”. Besides, you handled yourself quite well.”

“Only because I must in order to keep your organization from collapsing and from you being constantly on everyone’s most wanted list. And if anything I tell you to do is in that “never heard of it” file, I will being killing you myself.”

Maybe your conversations with Kai have made you stupidly bold. You mentally scold yourself for being so… insolent. But Sylus just seems to find the whole thing hilarious, so you relax.

At least you can have fun with your new boss. Even if he does tend to like threatening you. A lot.

“After all that effort you went through not only to get me to let you work with me, but also today?”

“It’s all a part of my elaborate scheme.”

“What scheme?”

“One filed under “Sylus is not privy to this.” Deal with it.”

He chuckles at you. Then, his tone takes on a more serious one.

”How do things with Kai fare?”

”Swimmingly, all things considered.”

”And what things are you considering?”

”You,” you say before leaving. You can hear Sylus laughing again as you do.

The journey back to Kai is a quick one, with people already back to their normal business as if nothing had happened. Perhaps because most of them see drama like this every other day.

”Apologies,” you say to Kai as soon as you get behind the bar again. “But I simply could not let such a woman make a scene at your gala. And my boss certainly wasn’t doing anything to stop her.”

”It’s fine. I invited Sylus because he attracts drama and entertainment like that. For some reason, people are too afraid to say things like that to my face."

Because you’re far more dangerous than even Sylus, you think.

Kai’s reputation is even more brutal than Sylus’. Drowning entire companies in deserts. Creating jewelry from the bones of those she’s killed. Driving people to suicide with her voice alone. Even rumors of cannabalism.

The woman is deadly, terrifying. But, for good reason.

”Well… no matter how entertaining he is, there’s a limit to how much I’m willing to stand being thrown at him. He may not be swayed by anyone’s opinion of him, but I sure am.”

Your words are flowery, targeting what you know of what Kai feels towards her spouse. There’s tinges of worry in her thread. There’s brief flashes of her mystery spouse being a doormat, and the fear that incites. Time after time, the person she loves lets their family walk over them.

Your words strike that cold heart of hers. Strike at the very core of who she is, and honestly, who you are: a protector. Because those flowery words weren’t just that. They were the honest truth.

You’re grateful to Sylus. You’ll never say that to his face, but you are. For this new job. For the freedom he allows you. For the bits of kindness he shows like ordering things you like to eat to the base or giving you the latest tools for jewelry making or giving you a rare gem or entertaining your drink mixing hobby.

Because despite how he threatens you, he still manages to treat you well. Which is far more than any of your previous bosses did.

”You care an awful lot for a man you haven’t worked with for long.”

You don’t ask how she knows this. Kai probably has an extensive information network, and she’s not stupid. With her history with Sylus, if you weren’t new, she would’ve met you sooner.

So you don’t ask that. No need to insult a woman who would, without hesitation, smash the glass in her hand to slit your throat and stain her pale skin a deep red. She’s killed over less.

”Do I need a reason to care for another? It’d be a lonely existence without it.”

”Yes it would,” she mumbles with the most emotion you’ve heard from her all night.

Once again, you tap into Kai’s deeper feelings. There’s a sense of loneliness that permeates her thread. An aching, festering, loneliness not unlike your own.

There’s a weight to that loneliness. One of responsibility. One of duty. And one of longing. Again, so similar to you, yet so different.

Part of you thinks that this why your boss and her don’t get along. Because they feel like they’re staring into a mirror.

You, on the other hand, take that similarity in stride. It’s another way for you to connect to your target.

”Why’re ya taking such an indirect approach to getting what you want from me? After all, ya clearly know ye way around getting to know people and their secrets. Why not use mine against me?"

Kai’s voice is back to her usual flat tone. Her body language is lax, but blank. She gives nothing away to normal people.

But you aren’t normal people. You see her thread, a piece of her soul leaking into your field of vision. And it tells you the real story.

It tells of wariness, of woman scorned and burned by kindness in the past. It tells of broke promises and what that did to her family.

It tells of hopefulness, of her praying that maybe you’ll be different from the rest. It tells of how the logical side of her wants to squash that hope and snuff it out before it can see the light of day.

You appeal to that part of her, “Such methods aren’t needed here.”

”Why?”

”Because a deal made with you that’s not in good faith isn’t a deal at all. And as I said before, I'd rather our deal come out of one of good faith than deceit. That, and because both parties already have bad blood, and you deserve more than some silly scare tactics.”

”Besides,” you laugh a bit. “I doubt such a thing would work on someone like you. Andrea has nothing real in her life, nothing for her to hold on to, hence why I scared her. You do, Mrs. Kerr. And that makes you all the more fierce and all the more respectable.”

”Still on with te flattery, ya?"

She hides it well, but you can tell she has a storm of emotions at how well you read her. Fear for her spouse. A bit of awe at you and your continued boldness. Skepticism.

”It’s my greatest weapon,” you smile. “And it’ll work on you, I’m sure.”

Kai swirls the rim of her drink with her fingertip.

”And why do you believe that?”

”Because you and Sylus ultimately want the same thing: change to the N109 zone.”

Kai finally finishes her drink and turns her full attention to you.

”Why do you think that of someone like me? Surely you’ve heard the rumors?”

You almost laugh at her words. Because despite her coldness, her endless cruelty, and the way Kai carries herself... you know what she really wants.

You know her type well. You know how scarred her heart is. You know how much the child in her cries with every person she protects.

Because why was there no one like her when she was a child? Why did no one protect the little girl who grew up too fast?

”Simple. Because you’re capable of love.”

Kai has nothing to say after that. Her face is still cold. Her body is still relaxed and not giving anything away. But you know you’ve struck a chord with her.

She keeps her eyes away from yours. Perhaps because they’re so expressive despite the icy chill she tries to keep in them?

You follow her eyes. You follow her eyes as they follow someone in the gala, one that walks not too far from where the two of you sit..

They flicker. They flicker like Kai did earlier that night, and the night you first met Sylus. But they don’t show draconic traits like your boss did, nor the scales or tattoos the woman before you did.

No. This person flickers with machines. Armor and mechanical wiring crawling across their skin. Black, deep black, twined with silver. A destructive weapon in their hand.

A voice calls out from them.

”Run X-02,” it calls. “Run.”

You blink, and it’s all gone. Vanishing in a flash, but still so disturbing that it makes you feel nauseous. Because while Kai and Sylus flickers were shocking, they weren’t so… empty.

Devoid of any feeling. A machine. A weapon. A being whose parts were carved out time and time again until nothing remained but the single order to obey.

You could feel your heart pound despite your effort to calm down. You focus on the current details of the person: dark skin, black hair with streaks of silver that remind you of the stars.

No calm comes from looking at them. Because Kai has decided to make them a cyborg for their themed outfit. That, coupled with you and Sylus’ own get up, made you wonder if she knew. If she knew of the shapes certain people's souls once held. If she knew that person was an android once, just like Sylus was once a fiend.

”You seem awfully distracted.”

”Apologies.”

”No, it’s fine,” Kai waves you off, tilting her head before the whisper of a smile appears on her lips. “You’ve had to deal with a lot for your first outing with Sylus. Why not visit the gardens? My spouse takes great care of maintaining it.”

You want to take her up on the offer. To escape into nature and just settle down your thoughts and racing heart. But you can’t. You have a job to do.

”As much as I appreciate your offer, I—“

”I insist. You wouldn’t want to disobey an order from your host, now would you."

”No. No I would not, Mrs. Kerr.”

”Good.”

She gives you the directions to the gardens. And you memorize them easily.

As you leave your station to go where she commands, you notice her glide her way to Sylus and other guests. And judging how their threads behave, you figure Kai’s in a good mood.

You think about her as you meander around her mansion. Priceless artworks are casually on display in the hallway, all of the same artist. Rafayel. You recognize his style from your auction days.

The second you see the garden, you let out a huge sigh. It’s gorgeous. Sprawling rows upon rows of flowers that you were sure were extinct.

Towering trees that reach to the sky, their branches home to many birds. You swear you see Mephisto among them.

Whinding pathways that are easy to follow, but you can get lost because of the sheer beauty that surrounds it.

You’re in awe that such a place can exist in the N109 Zone. There’s no sunlight for these plants to gain nutrients from. So how are they growing?

Placing a hand on one of the trees, you dig into them. Plants don’t have souls, or at least, not in the way that humans and Wanderers do. They have no threads of fate. They have no real desires, fears, or secrets.

But you can speak to them on occasion. If they’re old enough.

You’re drawn to one tree, and it’s the one you place a hand on. All you get is the flashing image of the person you saw earlier, the one Kai was staring at and the one whose past emanated such emptiness.

You see them and another tending to this garden. The only thing you can make out from the other is they’re a man and he feels like sunshine. He and the person from the party are what made the plants grows.

You wander further into the garden. Birds chirp. Foxes scatter about. Gentle winds sway. And, eventually, you run into another person. It’s the one from the tree’s memory, and from the party. It’s the former android. They’re crouched on the ground, grass and dirt crawling up their fancy clothes.

The moment you see them up close, you feel bad about your early assumptions and how you let their past life cloud your judgement. Because this person has one of the most beautiful souls you’ve ever seen.

They feel like nature itself. Like all the plants, animals, and maybe even planets themselves have been meshed together to create one person. They’re thread glows with a kind of compassion and gentleness you’ve never seen from another.

Their thread is weaved together by sorrow, love, and hope. And in that love lies someone familiar: Kai. This is her spouse. This is the person she’s willing to do anything for.

Every plan you had for this meeting goes out the window. They stare at you with their tender green eyes for a moment before they reach into their pocket for something.

A pen and notepad comes out. You’re left there, just watching this person write something down before they rip off the slip and hand it to you.

”I’m sorry if I frightened you,” it reads. “I’m Alex, and this is my garden.”

Alex stays on the ground. You introduce yourself with your own name, and they nod.

”Can I help you? You seem in need of some assistance.”

Alex blinks at you. You offer a shaky smile. They think for a moment before standing, and you’re able to see into the bushes they were previously sheilding.

A wolf cub, hardly old enough to be away from its mother, trembles in the bushes. Clearly injured—one of its ribs is poking out of its side—,malnourished, and dripping wet. In short, its condition is horrible.

Alex is writing again. You let your palm out from them to give it to you once you see they’ve finished this time.

”I found her a few hours ago on a trip outside the zone. Poor thing was on her own and stuck under the corpuses of her slaughtered family, probably for days. She was unconscious, and her rib ripped through her skin when she woke up in a strange place. I’ve tried calming her down, but nothing seems to work.”

The sorrow in Alex’s words is evident, even if they aren’t using their voice. Their expression falls, eyes downcast and fists clenched in frustration. They’re so open with their emotions. It’s a sharp contrast to their wife’s way of doing things.

”How about I try? You’d have to relay my intentions, but I’d like to think of myself as quite good at persuading others.”

Treating a wolf cub like any other customer or dealer wasn’t something you thought you’d ever do in your life. But, the poor baby needs help. And it’ll make Alex happy.

Already attached to them within 30 seconds of meeting them.

Another paper is put into your hands, "Why?"

”Because I’d hate to see her suffer more. She deserves some kindness after what she’s been through.”

Part of you wonders if you’re still speaking about the wolf cub. And judging by their reaction, Alex thinks the same.

Deep down, you believe the same about Kai. A girl forced to step up at a young age and raise her little brother.

A woman who became a monster to protect those she loves and what remains of her people.

A woman who time and time again has forced herself to carry insurmountable burdens.

And maybe, you too, can relate to this. Maybe you also deserve some kindness after all you’ve been through. And maybe, just maybe… that’s the real reason you got this job.

To distract yourself, you do what you do best: you talk. You talk and Alex relays and repeat. Until, finally, the little cub walks out and into Alex’s arms.

They get to work immediately. You use the little one’s soul to soothe her, guiding the pup to sleep while Alex mends her fur and resets her bones.

They also summon a large falcon to perch on one of their arms. In its beak it carries a milk bottle that Alex lets the little one drink from when you coax her out of a deep sleep.

You two stand in silence for a bit. The falcon occasionally squawks.

It takes the notepad into its beak, and Alex writes, “Would you like to stay longer? I’m sorry, but I really should be heading back.”

”As should I. My foolish boss might be making a mess again.”

Alex smiles, and you both begin your walk back. They still cradle the wold cub in their arms. The falcon flies just slightly overhead. The trees and plants seem to lean and reach out to Alex as the two of you walk by.

More animals begin to join. A white tiger follows closely on their heels. A polar bear walks beside you (and it takes everything in you to remain calm). Both a crocodile and an alligator walk in front of you.

As a result of this, your re-entrance to the party turns many heads. Some afraid. Some in shock. And one enraged: Andrea. She says nothing. She just glares at Alex while they look down in embarrassment.

You reach your boss and Kai quickly. The falcon swoops down again with the notepad, Alex writes, and hands it to Kai. She reads it quickly.

She taps a fork on her glass, "Alright. I'm calling an end to tonight’s gathering. Get the fuck out before I feed you to one of these fine creatures."

Kai pets the head of the tiger and polar bear as she speaks. People hurry out. But the gaze that Kai and Alex give you and Sylus roots the two of you in place.

Kai turns to Sylus, “I’ll work with you.”

He immediately turns to you and whispers. “Seems your first job went well.”

”I told you my method would work,” you grin.

”Aww, but mine’s more effective and time-saving, sweetie. We’ve been here for far too long.”

”It hasn’t even been an hour, you big baby.”

His eyes widen at the insult, "You've become quite bold."

”I just talked to a supposed cannibal who also happens to be someone with a body count many times higher than yours and who’s been killing since she was mostly likely around the age of 5. I’m allowed to have a little bit of attitude.”

”Whatever you say.”

”And about your “method”… mine’s clearly superior to it. And better in the long run. Evidenced by how a woman who hates you is now working with you.”

”And how exactly did you do that?”

”Through her spouse. A spouse you didn’t tell me about,” you lightly gesture to Alex. Kai and them are too busy chatting to notice you do so.

”Forgot to mention them."

"No you didn't," your whisper becomes harsher with annoyance at his obvious lie. "And you did that on purpose."

Sylus' grin widens, "And why do you think that?"

Your own smile mirrors his, “It’s written all over your face.”

Sylus just laughs.

”You finished?” Kai calls out, eyebrow raised.

You two turn your full attention to her again.

”Good,” she continues. “Now, we have one condition for our business deal to go forward.”

Sylus crosses his arms. “And that would be?"

”She will be our communication. Our liaison, so to speak,” and she points at you. You snap back to the present when a hand touches your forearm. It’s Miss Hunter, and her haul of protocores.

“For someone who was so hesitant not so long ago, you’ve spent quite a lot.”

Miss Hunter ignores your words, worry lining her expression. “You okay? You were spacing out…”

Her eyes look you up and down.

“I’m not going to collapse again, sweetie. I’m quite alright.”

You give her a smile to sell the whole thing, your little act. Because what else could you tell her? That you were drowning in memories of a simpler time?

I’m fine, Miss Hunter. Just thinking about the past, before I fell in love with your soulmate and I was just an employee under him.

You couldn’t say that. For so many reasons.

Due to those reasons, you try to focus on the world around you, and anchor yourself in the present. People dancing around you, minding their own business and lost in their own worlds.

You have half the mind to join them. That is until some men start badgering Miss Hunter. And, strangely, you’re thankful for it. They’re a welcome distraction.

You quickly place yourself between the men and Miss Hunter, shielding her from their eyes and their grabby hands. However, you don’t get even a word out of your mouth before a familiar voice interrupts.

“Her schedule’s full.”

Sylus comes up behind the men. They scatter upon his arrival. Their departure allows you to get a good look at your boss. He looks pissed.

Arms crossed tightly against his chest and scowl evident on his face, he watches the men leave you all in disgust. He looks like an animal ready to pounce. The dragon in him is bubbling to the surface, appalled and enraged someone dared to get so close to his treasure.

Will he be that way with me in future? Or is he already that way, raging at the mere idea of me being near his soulmate?

You speak because any more thoughts like that, and you might begin to cry.

“That was quick."

Sylus' expression relaxes upon hearing your voice, “You know how I detest wasting my time on boring things. The meeting was predictably that, so I wanted to speed things up.”

“You sure that’s not because you were worried?”

You say the words in jest, but part of you truly hopes he was worried. Not for you, but for her. For his soulmate. For his destined love. For his sorceress and the only woman worthy of him. Because if that’s the case, well… you have all the more reason to leave.

You can justify that voice in your head that screams at you to run if he cares for her. If he cares for her more than you, that is.

“Worried about what, sweetie? You can handle yourself just fine. And I know a little extra baggage won’t hinder you.”

Miss Hunter, for some odd reason, doesn’t comment on his obvious dig. You give her a look. She looks away, almost like she’s embarrassed.

There’s something going on between them again.

You brush it off. Last time you got involved in their drama, it didn’t end well for you. No use in you sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.

Because of how lost in your thoughts you are, you almost don’t hear Sylus’ next words, “Care to dance?”

You don’t look at him because you expect his hand to be stretched out to Miss Hunter. You do look at her again because she’d need someone to hold her bunch of protocores. But she just gestures her head at Sylus, and you turn to him in confusion.

Sylus hand extends to you . Not his soulmate that carries a mound of protocores.

You hesitate. But something in his eyes compels you to take his hand, so you do so in the next moment. Sylus gives you a precious look as he whisks you away. Miss Hunter gives you a small thumbs up, and you don’t know how you feel about that.

Sylus and you easily fall into a rhythm with one another. Years and years of familiarity shadows all your earlier turmoil. You can just embrace his touch, his scent, and his care with no reservations. Each step to the music, choreographed but comforting.

Sylus leans in to whisper in your ear, “Sherman has been taken care of, Gamayun.”

That brings a smile to your face. A sick, twisted, and evil smile that you tend not to show. But Sherman had it coming.

He betrayed you. He hurt Miss Hunter and took her family from her. He got himself into this mess. And you only wished you’ve could’ve been there to rip out his soulmate thread, one attached to a woman who was long gone.

“Good. You better not have been quick about his punishment. Otherwise, I’m going to have to drag him out of his grave.”

Sylus spins you, and pulls you close for a moment.

“So aggressive.”

“I’m taking your advice: anything I don’t consider is filed under “never heard of it”, and I definitely don’t consider myself aggressive.”

He releases you and you step back.

“Then what do you consider this?”

“My bleeding heart acting up again.”

The two of you step into the back and forth dance again, box steps and making circles around the dance floor.

“Your bleeding heart gets you into far too much trouble.”

“Better than the trouble your loose lips gets us both in.”

“And what trouble are you referring to, exactly?”

“Kai,” you begin to list off. “That old records dealer in Siberia. That one arms dealer in Canada. James.”

Sylus’ face makes a strange expression at James’ name.

“Still hung up on that man?”

“That man,” you tease, speaking directly into Sylus’ ear when you get closer. “Would’ve been quite a help to our business.”

“You sure your interest in him isn’t personal?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he sounded jealous. But a quick glance behind him at Miss Hunter, protocores taken away by some of Onychinus men, gets you to give up that idea.

Why would he be jealous when he has her?

“Guess we’ll never know,” is all you can get out.

You and Sylus dance in silence for a bit longer, a beautiful display of your synergy. You keep looking for Miss Hunter at any given opportunity. Her presence reminds you of your place. She reminds you that despite the inherent intimacy of this dance, you will never get more.

You’ll never get what you truly want.

“You see, this is why I worry whenever your bleeding heart acts up,” Sylus suddenly says.

“Why?”

Your voice sounds airy. You cringe at the sound, hoping Sylus doesn't notice how it wavers.

What is wrong with me?

“Because despite me being right in front of you, your eyes are focused on her.”

You feel so hot. Your head is in such a fog.

“And you care about that because…”

Sylus pulls you in close, closer than any other previous time. You two no longer dance, and his arm is tightly wound around your waist.

When he begins to lean in, your heart pounds and your stomach flutters. It's a thumping bass that drowns out all other conversations and music around you. All you can hear is your heart. All you can smell is his cologne.

All you can see is him.

Warmth flutters and circulates through your body. A warm that whispers comfort and safety. A warmth that draws you into Sylus just as he draws into you.

This warmth calls to you. Beckons you. It smuthers all the guilt, denial, and determination to stay the course.

It says, kiss him, kiss him.

“Don’t you know by now that I adore you?” He mutters into your ear.

The two of you just stare at one another. The world stops dead in its tracks. Because did he really just say that? With his sultry voice that glides over your ears and sends shivers down your spine and makes your legs tremble and causes you to be so very weak? With a softness in his eyes you’ve never before in your life?

No. I’ve seen it somewhere.

It’s how Kai looked at Alex and vice versa. It’s how James would look when he talked about his lost love. It’s how so many soulmates would look at their other half.

But, that couldn’t be true, could it?

Your eyes are deceiving you. Because Sylus is leaning in closer to you. His scent becomes stronger and your body become warmer. You don’t care about anything else around you. All that matters is him and you and your pounding heart.

It’s like you’re waiting for something, studying him to be prepared for what it is. You’re still, as if any movement will scare him off or make him change his mind about whatever he's about to do.

And, for a moment, you swear you see him glance at your lips. You stop yourself from breathing. You, stupidly, lean into him.

Your brain screams at you to stop. Your heart sings for you to move faster, to get what you've wanted for so long. You listen to your heart.

You cup Sylus' cheeks. You tilt your head to the side. And that heart of yours—that foolish, foolish muscle—is so very loud that it consumes all your senses.

All you feel is your heart. All you see is your heart. All you taste is your heart.

What would Sylus taste like?

The thought is indecent. It's a fantasy. It's a trap. It's something you should never want, never think about, never wonder about.

But it's the siren song that pulls you in. It's what makes you tenderly glide your tongue against your lips as Sylus draws you closer.

That seems to break Sylus out of whatever trance he’s in, and his hand leaves your waist. You drop your hands from his cheeks when he does.

And just like that, the warmth in you is sucked away, as if his hands were the supplier of it. Your heart still envelopes you, consumes you. But no longer do you think about the taste of Sylus.

You perse your lips together, your mind conjuring the image of something else pressing against them. You blink several times, still in awe at all that did—and didn't—happen.

Am I… disappointed?

That’s ridiculous. You knew from the moment you fell for Sylus nothing would ever happen between the two you. You knew that, and you told yourself that everyday when your urge to kiss him or cuddle him especially close or flirt with him became too much.

To distract yourself, you ask, “How long until the bombs go off?”

Sylus doesn't seem affected by the strange atmosphere that was between you two. He gives you that familiar arrogant and confident smile.

But there's a glimmer in his eye. A glimmer that tells you so much and so little. You don't dare look at his thread in case there's more confusion there.

“Why do you assume I’m doing that, Gamayun?”

Because, unfortunately, I know you all too well.

“Because it’s you, Sylus. Now, when do they go off? I need to warn Miss Hunter.”

A sudden explosion is the last thing she needs. You couldn't bare to see her buckle under the weight of such panic, of such grief and pain.

Miss Hunter hides her grief well. But, it peaks out occasionally. Sometimes when she laughs just a bit too much. Other times when she looks at Sylus, for some reason.

Her suffering is palpable to everyone at the base. You've all collectively decided to pretend you don't see it and let her shield her fragile heart.

Because, otherwise... she'll shatter. She'll shatter and break and fall apart into so many pieces that not even expert crafters like you and Sylus could put her back together.

And no matter how her existence breaks your heart, you could never—will never—wish such a thing on her. No for any reason. Not even if she begins to hate you. Not even if she turns you in to the Hunter's Association.

And certainly not even when she ineviably takes away the man you love for good.

Sylus' response brings you out of your spiral, “I’ll come tell you when it’s time.”

He brings you close one last time, pressing a kiss on your forehead and murmuring, “I do love that heart of yours.”

You speed walk away. Body and mind in turmoil. Frustration. Embarrasment. Hope.

You can't control yourself. It feels odd, considering how composed you normally are. Control is everything to you. Control is literally your job and your life.

Right now, you're anything but that. You're flustered from head to toe, still feeling the ghost of Sylus' lips on your ear and forehead. You have to actively stop yourself from touching those places.

His lips were so soft. Softer than you ever imagined on those rare days you let yourself indulge in the fantasy of a future with him. How much softer would they have been against your own? Would he kiss you gently with those lips?

Or would he be rough, possessive? Like he's trying to claim your lips as your own?

You feel hot all over again just imagining it: his arm on your waist becoming tighter, his other hand gripping the back of your head, his hot breath against your lips when he dives in for more...

You want to scream at your own vivid fantacies. Thoughts and images so vivid, you can almost feel them.

His arm around you, muscles tensing on your hips as he tries to pull you impossibly closer to him.

His hand on your back, fingers spread wide and holding you in place, but featherlight as to not hurt you.

His other hand on the back of your head, making sure he's getting the perfect angle to kiss you.

His lips on yours, trying to mold them to his. Tongue in your mouth, eyes with blown pupils on you when he backs up for air, and whispered sweet nothings that only you can hear that spill out for a moment before he dives in for more.

For more of you.

What the devil is wrong with me?

Your walk to Miss Hunter feels like an eternity with the company of your delusions.

The moment you’re by Miss Hunter’s side, your embarrassment multiples. You were just fantisizing about her soulmate, her other half, and the man she will one day marry.

She wears a shit-eating grin.

“Sooo, what was that about?”

“What was what about?” You attempt to deflect.

“Don’t give me that,” she rolls her eyes at you. “I may not be as smart as you, but I do have eyes.”

“Don’t insult yourself like that,” your defense of her comes out before you can really think about it.

“You’re dodging the issue.”

She turns to face the dance floor. Or, rather, where Sylus stands near it. Just the sight of him makes you feel all warm and fuzzy again.

”Don’t you know by now that I adore you?”

”I do love that heart of yours.”

And just like that, you’re flustered again.

“Dance with me,” you blurt out, escaping from Sylus’ line of sight and dragging Miss Hunter behind you.

Miss Hunter giggles, grin still on her face. You can practically hear the teasing questions and words that beg to fall off her lips.

Is this what it’s like to have friends?

Your social life took a dive years ago, far before you met Sylus. After your best friends in high school ditched you for each and their new love, reaching out for companionship was… hard, to say the least.

Kai and Alex filled that void for some time. The three of you stopped talking about a year ago for some reason. Kai’s been very quiet in the “business” world since then. And Alex has always preferred to stay out of the spotlight, so you didn’t worry much when they dropped off the grid.

They were, and still are, probably two of your closest friends. People who get not only the lighter side of you—the one with a bleeding heart—but the dark side, the lonely one with a cynical out look on love.

But, as much as you love them, they are anything except normal. Kai’s killed more people than anyone you’ve ever met. Alex prefers the call of nature to the voices of humans. They both carry pains you couldn’t even begin to understand.

You love them. You love Sylus. You love the twins. But, you need some reprieve from your bloodstained world.

Miss Hunter appears to be the key to that. Someone who reminds you of the good in the world, rather than the bad parts you’re determined to destroy. Someone who reminds you of that innocent little girl you once were before you got your powers (ironic, given that she’s more or less a symbol of everything your powers have taken from you).

She’s a kind and gentle soul, one who hasn’t been stained by the world and still believes in good. She reminds you of Alex.

But unlike Alex, Miss Hunter is fierce. Unwavering. And because of that, you couldn’t ask for a better soulmate for the love of your life.

Imagining her and Sylus together still hurts. It still claws into your heart and shreds it without mercy. But, in a little corner of your heart, there’s joy. There’s happiness for your new friend and the man you love.

Because no one else could make each other as happy as the other will. You’ve seen it time and time again.

As for her other soulmates… well, they aren’t your problem. You’ll deal with that problem too once you come to it.

“Still thinking about your boss?” Miss Hunter pipes up, her tone teasing and lighter than you’ve ever heard it.

Yes.

You still feel his touch, phantom imprints. You still want more of his touch, the ghost of his taste still on your tongue. You want more and more and more.

But you will never have it. You need to remember that. All you'll ever have is the dreams and nightmares of that with Sylus.

And your dreams are meant to be crushed. They're meant to be broken beyond repair. Why should someone deemed by the universe unfit for love be able to dream?

Why should they be able to wish, to wonder?

Why am I allowed to live?

“What ever are you talking about?”

Stepping into your usual role is all you can do to make the thoughts stop.

“Seriously? You’re pretending not to know again?”

No. I just don't want to know. I don't want to remember my mistakes and my errors and my stupidity, and my—

“Why don’t just spit it out?” You quip back with a smile.

“Fine,” she huffs as you twirl her. “You and Sylus—well, mostly Sylus—it’s obvious you're in love.”

“You’re still on about that?”

You thought you cleared this up earlier. Your stomach twists at the thought. Having Sylus’ soulmate believe the two of you are in love, and not just extremely close is a problem. A huge problem.

“And you’re still in denial about that? I mean, come on! He looked like he was going to kiss you. I had my imaginary popcorn out and everything!”

“You’re ridiculous,” she giggles as you pull her close. “Preposterous. Delusional.”

“I know what you are, but what am I?” You roll your eyes at her.

“His friend and employee. Not his soulmate.”

The word “soulmate” causes a shadow to fall over her eyes.

“How… are you so sure?”

You want to laugh.

Because I can see it. I see how your souls are tied together. I see how he’ll love you and only you through every lifetime. I see how I’m merely a footnote in your love story.

You, of course say none of that, and can only say, “I just do.”

The cheery and playful atmosphere dissipates between the two of you. You stop dancing and you guide her away from the dance floor to somewhere more hidden. You don’t know what to say.

The airy and warm feeling you had early is gone, sapped away by your own stupid words and your own stupid love. Why, oh why, did you have to do this to yourself?

Maybe part of you loves the pain of a broke heart?

The tap on your shoulder comes as a welcomed distraction.

“60 seconds,” is all his whispers in your ear before he goes off to talk to other people.

For once, you’re grateful for Sylus’ tendency to do big shows of power. The ensuing chaos and combat will keep your mind occupied.

“What was that?” Miss Hunter inquires, tilting her head at you.

“A heads up I requested,” her expression pushes you to answer further. “Sylus has a flare for dramatics. And those dramatics tend to involve explosions.”

You continue in a much gentler tone, “I know an explosion took your family. Springing one on you isn’t very polite, so I asked Sylus to give me a heads up.”

Miss Hunter trembles. You hold her close.

“Thank you,” she whispers, trying to sound brave.

“No need,” you check your phone for the time. “We have about 30 seconds. Ready?”

“Does it matter if I’m not?”

You sigh. “I suppose not.”

The seconds tick down. Miss Hunter’s breath is shaky. You feel her heart pound in her chest. You squeeze her even closer to you. You count each breath, and remind her to stay calm.

Then, it comes. Multiple explosions rock the building. People scream. Some are crushed, while others die in a blaze. Others still are picked off by the twins or Sylus himself.

You don’t focus on them. You focus on keeping Miss Hunter shielded and calm. Her heartbeat is out of control, so you mess with her threads a bit. Just small nudges to keep her tranquil, to remind of her of better times.

The whole thing is done in an instant. Sylus casually walks over to check on her.

“You alright, sweetie?”

“She will be. Give her time,” you snap.

Sylus laughs, sticking his thumbs into his pockets, “I meant you, silly.”

He takes a hand out to flick your forehead when he says the stupid nickname.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

You brush him off because today has been just a bit too much. Your hear has always been weak to Sylus, but you've never had such real... material in your mind.

You've never thought of how he would kiss you. You've never thought about how he would touch you in throes of such intimacy. You've never let your thoughts get so far.

But that look in his eyes when you two danced. That look he gave you before you went to Miss Hunter... it gives you ideas. Foolish, unrealistic, and dangerous ideas.

“Because I seem to recall you prioritizing helping our guest over your own safety.”

He leans over Miss Hunter who was still buried in your arms, and tilts your head so that he could get a better look.

“Look, your face is bleeding.”

His touch makes you feel hot all over again. It gets worse when you remember how it made your imagination run wild.

You can almost pretend you're somewhere else. Somewhere private. Somewhere where this simple touch on the chin to look at your cuts and bruises could become something else.

Your knees almost buckle. But you hold it together.

“Minor cuts, you fool. I’ve had worse.”

“And that makes that better because…?”

“…Shut your mouth.”

“Or else what? You’ll shut it for me?”

You flush at the implications. Sylus’ smirk tells you that he meant it in the way you’re thinking of. Your heart rate picks up again. You’re warm all over. And there’s this sense of… anticipation and hunger as you stare at one another.

That warmth is back. It begs to take a chance, a leap of faith. It screams at you to just grab his neck and finally have what you've craved for so long.

“Could you please not flirt so close to me?” Miss Hunter mumbles.

You almost scream. But the crushing guilt keeps you silent. Her words remind you of your place, of the line you've been treading far too close to.

You step back from Sylus. Miss Hunter is no longer buried in you, so she doesn't follow.

You ignore her question because you have no way of really responding, “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” she grumbles. “Let’s finish this.”

You guide her to the rooftop, glancing at Sylus to be sure he follows. He shakes his head.

“I’ll clean up here. You go.”

“I seem to recall that she’s your guest.”

He shrugs, “she likes you more.”

You splutter. Then, you let yourself hug him and whisper in his ear, "Be safe, Morana."

You follow Miss Hunter up to the rooftop as quick as you can. The sharp winds in your face make the burn of emotions dampen down. That, and the giant Wanderer that roars above.

“Stay back!” She yells over the racket, shooting at the foe. “You don’t have an Evol, right?! It’s dangerous!”

“Ever the diligent Hunter, protecting civilian, eh?”

“Now’s not the time for jokes!”

“The only joke here is that you think me,, of all people, need protection!”

The fight against the Wanderer is short. After all, Wanderers were once people. They had souls and threads for you to mess with. So you help her, weaving threads and shooting after she handed you one of her guns.

You hand it back as you walk to the pedestal that held the Aether Core, beckoning her to that the power that belongs to her. And you watch her threads react.

You never really paid attention to Miss Hunter’s Aether Core, not when they were more pressing issues at hand. None of this issues exist now in this moment.

Now, you can. Her glitching threads that emerge from it. The strange energy that flows from it, an energy that seems to call to you. It tries to drag you in, to swallow you.

You don’t know why.

And when the energy from the new core begins to leak out into her, the very universe shifts around you.

You hear her heartbeats, and your own heart seems to sync with it. Thump. Thump. Thump. A resonate of sounds that are so familiar yet so foreign.

And underneath those thumps, there’s a hum. A song. A whisper of melody you’ve never heard before and can’t describe despite how it echoes in your brain.

It’s beautiful.

The sound is like home. Like a gentle kiss from your mother or the safe embrace of your father. Like the boisterous laugh of the twins or the comfortable touch of Sylus.

It brings a tear to your eye. With that tear comes visuals. Planets. Stars. Galaxies. They all lay over your eyes and block the vision of Miss Hunter taking the power of the new Aether Core.

So, so beautiful.

You think you can stay here forever, basking in that wonderful melody and the sights that it brings. But the moment the energy flow into Miss Hunter stops, it ends. A blip in time. A small moment of absolute peace.

Quickly wiping your face before she turns around, you snap out your trance. There’s things to be done, after all.

You do all the things needed to be done: help Sylus and the twins clean up, settle Miss Hunter, and escort her out of the N109 Zone.

“You should come visit me,” she says, bright smile on her face.

“Maybe I will…”

After all, what better fresh start is there than the city of the woman who drove me out? You take my place at Sylus’ side… maybe I’ll take yours in the Hunter Association.

It’ll be a sick, twisted, heartbroken exchange. One not equivalent in the slightest. For how can you compare a woman loved by many to one loved by none?

Author's Note: Also, please go to the original blurb to ask to be added to the taglist (it's impossible for me to keep checking every part every time I update).

2nd Author's Note: How long is too long for a chapter?

Taglist: @eolivy, @rafayelridesfisheatsfish, @animegamerfox, @jasperjokester, @schrodingerskimdokja, @just--crys, @snowdynasty, @shi-thats-kiera, @mansonofmadness, @dwuclvr, @ameilli, @katiedoesstuff101, @everythingistaken00, @napa-the-yappa, @hanaluxx, @lovesick-sylus, @tenaciouszombiewombat, @ladyparamount, @applepi405, @midnight-reverie, @69-gojos-wife-69, @bellagrayson-wayne, @phisen, @idkmanimjusthorny, @munchychuusy, @autumn2534, @poptrim, @sillyfreakfanparty, @zaynesfirefly, @flamedancer13, @thissmartdumbass, @mrsllawliet, @jeondyy, @ssetsuka, @dels-page, @that-lost-one, @johnnysactualgf, @mariquitas-en-verano, @toelady, @sinnamon-bunn, @yesbiaswrecked, @doggyteam2028, @little-rays-of-darkness, @albatrossblue, @vyntheria, @silverianni, @browneyedgirl22, @tiklestar, @beaconsxd, @pepperushia

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