#and immediately started to make an au in my head

[dearmisshoney]

when stone hungers

synopsis. taking the gardening gig at the malfoy manor turns out to be more than just pulling weeds and trimming bushes. the old security guard warned you about the haunted statues, but you’ve brushed his counsels as mere stories to boost the popularity of the tourist attraction. what happens when you’re trapped in the intricate maze of the manor, hunted down by a lust-filled cursed statue?

pairing. cursed statue! draco malfoy x reader

content/mdni. DUB-CON. fem!reader, gardener!reader, cursed statue!draco, victorian man!draco, repressed!draco, kinda soft!draco, dom!draco, possessive!draco, weeping angels!au type of statue, maze chase, a bit of horror (?), monster-fucking (you fuck his human form tho), blindfold usage, oral (m and f receiving), public/maze sex, dirt/pavement fucking, doggy style, slight size kink, teasing, allusion to humiliation (m receiving), overstimulation (f receiving), praise, dirty talk (bad attempt at victorian speech), name-calling (darling, good girl, my sweet, my gardener), raw sex, thoatpie, creampie, tons of plot (5k is just plot and build-up)

word count. 7k

a/n. have you ever wanted to fuck a statue? I GOT YOU! smut and a dash of horror? I GOT YOU x2. first draco fic! my lovely @draco-malfoys-lovergirl, sorry for taking so long! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!

“so the side garden and the maze, right?”

“yes, miss.” the old man confirmed immediately, nodding his head in agreement as well. “please start with the garden, as our guests will see that first.”

indeed, when the malfoy manor will be open to visitors, fully converted into a tourist attraction, the side garden will reach their eyes first. the maze, positioned at the back of the manor, somewhere more reserved, will only be explored — if ever — together with a tour guide.

“the maze is terribly overgrown, but do not stress yourself too much. there’s a small chance for it to be open to the public.” he mused, pursing his lips towards the end in an attempt to stifle a laugh. “kids will definitely get lost in it.”

“i understand. then i will make my way to the garden and work my magic.” you gave the old man a crooked smile before bowing slightly, signaling your departure.

“good luck with that!” he smiled back at you, his gesture flying to his eyes and making them turn into two curved lines. “and, miss. be careful with the statues!”

a small chuckle escaped your lips, but you brushed it away with a sway of your hand. “i am sure the haunted statues will let a master do her work in peace.”

bowing your head towards the man one last time, you bid him goodbye. picking up your wheelbarrow — full with your gardening equipment, you headed to the side garden to assess the situation.

the job advertisement did not lie.

the garden, long abandoned, was in terrible shape. the flower bushes were overgrown, yet somehow still blooming despite the obvious lack of care. weeds were sprouting everywhere, enveloping and capturing the legs of the few benches.

some vines even latched themselves over the statue in the middle, crawling over the stepping stone and curving all over the name plaque. the shoes of the statue were surprisingly clean, but that might be because of the birds attacking it and picking at its feet.

birds were definitely attracted by this statue, as the shoulders and even the hat were covered in white stains of poo.

“here is young master…”

your gloved hands, already equipped for ripping weeds and other unwelcomed plants, rested on the plaque, caressing over the wild vines and, then, ripping them away from the surface.

the polished stone of the plaque was finally breathing, hit by the warm sun after being drowned in leaves and lianas for god knows how long.

“… draco malfoy.”

the inscription was now clear to your eyes and you muttered the name with such familiarity, like you’ve known the young man for ages.

but you didn’t, really.

you had to look up at the statue to register to whom such a name belonged. squinting your eyes, you raised your gaze from below your hat’s brim and pierced his own.

it was quite the tall statue, the young man keeping a straight and unwavering posture. he was of noble lineage, that was quite clear from his expensive victorian attire — the coat draped over his shoulders, although sprinkled with bird poop, was fabulously sculpted. his fingers, clad in big rings which would’ve definitely bought a house in today’s time, were perched on his sturdy fingers. every detail of his hands was visible to the naked eye thanks to their position, placed one over the other on the handle of a cane.

and his eyes… so soulless, yet so full of wonders. the colours were not captured into the cold muddy stone, yet his gaze was drawing you in, hypnotizing you and calling you to explore their depths.

there was no depth, as the sculptor couldn’t possibly imitate the intricacies of the human eye. yet, his eyes made your feet move closer to his, made you step on the stone platform and stop before him. his eyes made you crane your neck upwards to meet his face once more.

his eyes made your gloved hand touch his face and caress that freezing, lifeless stone.

“you must’ve been very popular with the girls, master draco.”

your tone was not full of jest or mockery. you were sincere. if you, a modern woman, found his statue attractive, surely ladies in the victorian era were swooned by his alive version.

“were your eyes piercing green?” you mumbled to yourself, contemplating on his eye color as you carefully danced across his cheek with your fingers. “or maybe a deep chocolate brown?”

the stone could not answer back to such questions.

“or a nice electric shade of blue?”

you were now close to him. too close.

your nose bumped into his stone one and, in that moment, you realized how crazy you must look from the outside. you retracted your hand immediately and jumped down from the stepping stone, putting some distance between you and the statue.

“gosh, maybe i am the haunted one.” you say out loud as you smack your own head, trying to bring you back to reality and do the job you were actually hired to do.

picking up the weeds you’ve removed from his plaque, you throw that into one of your giant garbage bags. fastening the gardening apron tighter around your hips, you drop into the front pockets your shears and your little trowel and began rehabilitating the garden.

all under the statue’s fixed gaze.

•••

“and the last one.” you finished counting the garbage bags as you throw the last one into your wheelbarrow. it drops nicely next to the other three bags you’ve previously placed, deflating atop of the pile like a mushed cherry.

your tools were nicely spread across one of the benches there, your apron now empty and easier to carry around.

making your way to the statue, you plop yourself down on the platform, butt seated right next to the plaque. you extended your left hand to the side of the stone, fishing for your water bottle, as you admire the work you’ve done.

the garden was looking so much better than before and, with a bit of aftercare, you’re sure it will be blooming beautifully for the opening ceremony. for now, the nicely trimmed bushes, the uprooted and cleaned-up weeds, and the shoveled soil will do.

“good work, girl!” you congratulated yourself as you opened the bottle, unscrewing the cap with one hand and bringing it to your thirsty mouth. dipping your head backwards, ready to savoir the by-now lukewarm water, you hit something rigid with the back of your head.

“ugh– ouch…” you instantly jumped forward, raising from your make-shift seat and turning to inspect the obstacle.

the statue.

you could’ve sworn you were not that close to the statue, as the edge of the platform was still some inches away from the body. and you were right, the distance between the margin and the sculpted shoes was big enough, but you seem to have missed the extended arm of the statue.

his right hand was looming forward, as if young master malfoy was placing his palm against the head of his trusty subordinates.

“thank god it didn’t shatter.”

you were grateful the stone was not damaged by your sturdy head. technically, it was impossible for it to break from a mere strike; practically, the statue was so old, even such a movement could ruin it. you came closer, carefully analyzing the hand, grasping it in your own naked one and feeling around the stone.

it seemed fine. unharmed.

“i might as well clean the poo off of you, no?” you sigh, knowing you’d have to sacrifice your last gulps of water to wash away the dried-up spurts of excrements from the statue.

but you did, going up again on the platform and splashing the stains with your water bottle. thankfully, the bird poo appeared to not be as hardened as expected, flowing down together with the liquid and leaving behind clean stone.

“there, there, young master.”

some poo was adorning his top hat, but your stature did not allow you to reach them. and you find that the hard way, as water actually splashed lower, over draco’s face and away from his hat.

“ooops, my bad.”

you were speaking to the statue like it was a real human being, apologizing for drenching his face in water and even frantically searching for your cloth to dry it.

“we can’t have this beautiful smile drown, hm?” humming, you dabbed up all the water, revealing his upturned lip corners to you.

“all good! and handsome as ever.”

and with that you departed from the statue a second time that day, eagerly packing up your tools and dropping them next to the garbage bags. your water bottle joined them too, a clear reminder of your unclenched thirst.

“bye, bye, draco! hope you like your rejuvenated garden.”

with a brief goodbye and a childish giggle, you pushed your wheelbarrow on the exit path of the side garden, ending your first day as the rehabilitation gardener of the malfoy manor.

•••

“young master malfoy, we meet again.”

you almost laughed when you came back the next day and saw another statue of draco. you’ve finished with the side garden yesterday, a place which was built with draco malfoy in mind — or so the old man told you.

so why was a similar statue in the maze?

perched upon a similar platform, with a similar plaque, was a similar man.

it was definitely draco, you could recognize his facial features by now. his outfit was the same as the one from the side garden — the expensive coat, the top hat, the dress pants. even the cane was present in this sculpture.

the pose was different.

for once, the cane was no longer positioned in front of his body. it rested nicely alongside his frame, supported by his left hand. his right hand was bent and kept over his chest, holding between his ring-clad fingers his hat. his head was no longer sheltered, and you could now see how nicely his hair framed his features.

“the old guy said your eyes were bluish, even grey in certain moments of the day.”

you were now accustomed to stepping on the platform and forcing yourself into the statue’s personal space. you shamelessly cupped his face, like you were ready to rotate it downwards towards you, but it was stone — statues don’t move. so you had to rotate your own to meet his straightforward gaze.

“they might have been gray, but not this lifeless gray, surely.”

you thumb at the warm stone, heated by the radiant sun, tricking your mind into thinking that the man before you was somehow real. but it wasn’t. this was all just your imagination reconstructing the young lord with the bits and pieces you found around.

“and he said you had blond hair.”

your hand moved to the nape of his neck, but there were no strands of hair which you could’ve touched. the stone carvings of his haircut were stuck to his scalp, another reminder of his inanimate state.

“oh, your hat has poo on it.” the hat, which was not on his head like in the previous statue, caught your attention.

the edge had a familiar shit stain on it, and it made you wonder if birds had preferred spots to strike.

“let me get that before i start my work.”

with a bit of water and a tiny cloth, you rubbed away the stubborn stain and made the hat match his clean attire. “no stains for you, draco.” you finally reported like he was your boss, raising your gaze one last time as if the stone could offer its approval.

the statue remained unmoving and expressionless, but his downward gaze was fixated on his top hat. as if young master draco watched over your work and took in your efforts.

that was good enough for you, so you’ve moved away from the statue and straight back to your gardening duties.

as you’ve began shaping the hedges of the maze, you’ve completely skipped over the vine-covered plaque at the feet of the statue.

indeed, you now knew the name of the young master, so there was no curiosity left in you. but if you’ve just taken a peek at it you’d have realized that something was not adding up.

beneath the lianas, another name was carved into stone: lucius malfoy.

was the name wrongly placed? or… was it the statue?

•••

“no way it’s already this late?!” as you elevate your head from underneath the hedge, with weeds plucked in both hands, you are hit with a darkening sky and a rising moon.

“shit.” you dropped the plants in your open garbage bag and instantly pulled at the edge of your gardening gloves, turning them inside out so your skin remains clean.

“keys, keys, keys, where are the damn keys?” you start frantically searching your pockets for the keys to the main gate of the place, praying and hoping you have them on you.

the security guy at the entrance surely locked up the place an hour ago, now peacefully snoring in his little hut. security cameras are not yet installed so he won’t know you were locked in until the very morning.

your pockets were empty.

“no, no, no, this is unreal. maybe i dropped them somewhere around here?” you ducked and searched around the dirt on your hands and knees, trying to sniff out the keys like some trained dog.

but they were not around here.

“the statue maybe?” you had left most of your equipment there, as the center of the maze allowed you enough space to store them... and a sitting spot.

you hurried your steps towards the statue, turning lefts and then rights to reach it. you’ve memorized this part of the maze with how many trips you’ve made back and forth. and lo’ and behold, you did reach the center of the maze in record time, the statue of draco malfoy greeting you with his usual expressionless face.

“draco, dear, have you seen some keys?” you asked the statue like it will respond, so nerve-wrecked by the situation that you don’t even take into account the absurdity of the question.

of course, the statue did not answer, holding the cane in his right hand and the hat with his left, close to his torso, just like before.

the last ray of sun, paling with the arrival of the night, did help you one last time, glimmering the metal part of the keys at draco’s feet. you rushed to them relieved, thanking the universe for not abandoning you in these godforsaken times.

“gotcha.” clutching the keys, you pull them towards you with excitement. only to realize that a good chunk of them was stuck beneath the stone shoes of the statue.

stuck beneath the stone shoes of the statue?

“what the actual fuck?”

and you pulled again, this time with more force, tightening your fingers around the metal object and putting all your force into freeing them. all that to no avail.

“what are they doing there to begin with? is this some sort of sick prank?”

you kneeled down, legs bent and digging into the cracked pavement, as you grounded yourself to channel more power into your grip. you tried again, tugging at the keys underneath the stone foot with every muscle of your body.

nothing.

“shit.” you sprang up from your kneeling position, abandoning the keys at once to find some kind of tool to help you get them out. “maybe a crowbar? there should be one here, no?”

turning your back completely and strutting down one of the four pathways, you mentally go through all your tools to decide which one might act as a jack. maybe your big shovel can help you raise the statue someh–

your body slowed in its tracks when your ears registered footsteps behind you.

thank god, the security guy realized you were still inside and came to get you. his footsteps resonated louder and louder, a strong indicator the person was approaching you.

what was his name again? david?

“david, sir, i am so gla­–” and you stopped completely, readying yourself to turn around and face the man.

that did not happen, as strong, manly arms slide along your body, trapping you in a harsh lock. one hand dipped along your waist, nestling nicely across your lower abdomen, while the other snaked up to your jaw, forcing you to keep your gaze forward.

you tried to turn your head around and see the man behind you, but your face was gripped tightly by ring-clad fingers, digging into your cheeks and leaving marks into your skin.

“don’t move, darling.”

“w–who are you? let me go!”

you struggled against his arms, elbowing the body behind you in an attempt to escape. but he was unwavering and rigid, like stone.

“you know me, darling.” he whispered mysteriously against the shell of your ear, warm breath fanning across the side of your neck as he was closing in.

“what the fu–” ck is wrong with you? that’s what you were about to say, but the clattering of a foreign object onto the pavement made you stop and gaze down.

a cane.

a very familiar cane dropped down onto the pavement, clicking twice before going silent against the stone. a very familiar cane which was no longer of stone, but of a dark wood.

there was only one man who possessed such an object…

“d­–draco?”

“bravo.” draco breathed the praise as his lips were zeroing into your skin, careful pecks falling onto your neck soon after.

“b–but you’re stone! you are not real.” you try to use reason to understand the situation, but the not-so-innocent touches of his made your brain uncooperative. your lips, smashed into one another by his fingers, barely allowed a whimper to escape as draco’s kisses arrived at the base of your neck.

“–oh, but i am quite real, my sweet.”

his voice unfolded against your skin, low and silken, steeped in something archaic, something belonging to a century long buried. the tone of his speech carried the tidy rhythm of nobility, but there was a lazy, indulgent pitch to it now — like a predator who had finally cornered his prey.

his hand moved slowly — possessively — from your stomach to the edge of your hipbone, resting there as if to lay claim. his fingers, still clad in cold rings that clinked faintly against your apron, brushed the skin where your shorts had shifted.

you shivered under the contrast of cool metal and warm breath.

“this– this isn’t possible…” you muttered, even as you twitch into him, instinct fighting every logical thread unraveling in your mind.

“really?” draco’s lips curled into a smile against your skin, teeth grazing lightly across the tender curve where your neck met your shoulder.

his voice, sultry and low, rumbled like thunder muffled under layers of velvet. you could feel the press of his body now — warm, firm, unmistakably human.

nothing like the freezing statue you had pressed your palms against yesterday.

“i’ve been watching you…” he murmured, dragging his lips down the arch of your throat, his hand on your hips squeezing tighter, possessive. “these couple of days.”

his words left a trail of heat far worse than the sun ever could.

“i knew you were trouble the moment your little hands touched my face… so soft, so curious.” his hand now moved over the lower straps of your apron, thumb toying with the fabric and slowly tugging it loose.

his voice dropped further, molasses-thick with old aristocratic charm. “do you know what it does to a man, to be frozen in time, starved, only to be worshipped like that?”

“i–i didn’t know—” you stammered, but he silenced you with a soft tut.

“oh, you wound me.” his voice wrapped around you like ivy, his darkened tone churning that coil in your tummy.

his teeth grazed your collarbone once more, and his hand dipped underneath the loose apron, down past your navel, fingers ghosting over the waistband of your shorts. his touch sent jolts through you, as unreal as the whole moment.

“you kept me clean. touched me like i was a god. spoke to me like i was a man. which do you want me to be now, hm?”

you gasped when his hand dipped beneath, fingers unerring, arrogant. you could barely keep upright, held up only by the hold of his arms and the way he crowded your body against his own rigid one.

“i– you are not real.” you shook your head in disbelief, still refusing to accept that the statue was alive. and, above all, full of desire for you.

you could feel his hands, warm and calloused, and his cool rings tease the skin beneath your waistband, palming your lower abdomen and feeling around for your undergarments. you could feel his lips still glued to your skin, now leaving open-mouthed kisses along your throat.

you could feel his clothed cock digging into your ass, the stiffness of it a reminder of his previous stone-being.

“must you deny the truth?” he growled behind you, his wandering hand stopping to scratch at your skin in frustration. “i am of flesh, just like you are.”

“then show me! let me see you.” you too exhaled in frustration, demanding to be turned around and shown his true, alive form. you tossed and turned in his grasp again, forcing your hands on his own and trying to pry them away from you.

“that i cannot do, darling.” his hands only became more rigid around you, muscles flaring beneath his coat and stilling your revolt.

“shall your eyes lay on me, i turn to stone.”

and there it was, the core of his curse. as long as your eyes are on him, he will remain a stone statue, frozen in time in the position he last occupied. with your eyes averted from his frame — just like the situation now — he was alive and capable of every human thing.

“l–lies…”

“check for yourself, my sweet.” he surrendered, sighing into your neck before jutting your head to the side, enough to glance back at the stone platform on which he previously stood. for good measure, draco did step to the side as well, shielding his form from your own wondering eyes.

your orbs were graced with the familiar view of the maze’s center, with the stepping stone and the four pathways it fostered. but there was no statue to welcome you. the pedestal was empty, like a sculpture was never there to begin with.

your keys were still there, but no longer obstructed by a foot. they shine less than before, now with the sun completely gone from the sky.

“b–but how?”

the reveal felt heavy on your shoulders, making your knees buckle under the weight of the cruel truth. you kept blinking and blinking, wishing the scenery would change and draco the statue would appear back on the platform.

but that didn’t happen.

“i walked.” draco answered your rhetorical question, humming against your skin in an attempt to soothe your anxieties.

“first from the garden–”

oh. this pedestal wasn’t his to begin with.

“–to this platform. then, i just stepped down when i saw you were leaving.”

his last words were dripping with something dark, possessive, venomous. “why leave me, darling?” draco gripped your jaw tighter, keeping it in place, as he saw your face sliding towards him.

wishing to see him. wishing to paralyze him.

“i thought hiding your keys was a splendid idea.” he mumbled more to himself than to you, analyzing his failure of a plan. “i should have claimed you from the start.”

“you are not real.” you whispered again, trembling now. but it wasn’t from fear alone. his words, so dangerous and possessive, made your insides combust with arousal.

draco chuckled darkly against your skin. “still in denial?” he said. “even when i am touching you. holding you. wanting you.”

his hand slid lower, right on top of your panties, and you felt the pads of his fingers ghost against the slick heat between your thighs. you jerked instinctively, a moan catching in your throat, and he grinned against your neck — you could feel it, the pride blooming in that twisted, noble heart.

“l–let me see you.”

“can’t do, my sw–”

“let me see you turn to stone, then i will believe you.”

draco stiffened. you could feel the tremor that ran through his body. not out of anger, but of reluctant fear.

"you wish to see me… undone?" his breath faltered for a moment. “to gaze upon me and strip me of my human form?”

you nodded as best as you could, hoping he would comply to your request.

“i need… proof.” you whispered. “i need to know you’re not a dream i’ve conjured.”

he went quiet. too quiet.

then — half-heartedly, with the weight of a century behind his breath — he spoke, voice barely a rasp. “then have it.”

draco’s arms fell away from you slowly, dragging against your skin like tamed serpents. his body slipped away from your own, away from your warmth, and the moment he did... cold rushed back in.

you turned.

the first thing you saw was the flash of his eyes — steel-gray, like a storm you’d only seen in paintings. like the sea itself had been frozen mid-tempest.

then, stone.

it happened in a blink.

his eyes — once alive, calculating, devouring you — were now glazed with eternal silence. his lips, once curled with hunger and twisted flirtation, were now unmoving. perfect. cold.

his hand was reaching out to you still. but it was rigid now.

draco malfoy stood before you, just as he had the first day you saw him. carved in grace, haunted in stillness.

the only sign he’d ever moved was the position of his body: arms half-raised, chest slightly arched forward, like he was trying to reach you. like he was begging you not to leave him after your little test.

you stumbled back, almost falling on your butt against the pavement.

the truth of it — of him — finally slamming into your chest like a blow.

the statue was alive. and he wanted you.

“no.” you breathed, horror wrapping around your lungs, making your breaths heavy with fear. “no, no, no…”

you backed away, but the statue — draco — stood watchful, haunting. you could feel his presence even now, humming under the skin of stone. waiting.

and if you dared to blink–

you didn’t wait to find out.

with a gasp stuck in your throat and adrenaline lashing through your veins, you ran.

you ran back into the maze, cutting corners, clipping hedges, ignoring the way untamed branches clawed at your arms. you ran like he could follow — and maybe, just maybe, he would, the moment your eyes left him long enough.

because now you knew: he was never just stone.

your legs moved before your thoughts could catch them. every twist and turn of the maze felt unfamiliar now, foreign, menacing. the very same hedges you’d lovingly pruned now loomed like walls.

like a prison.

a shiver crawled down your spine, even before you heard the snap of twigs behind you.

he was following you as your eyes were no longer on him.

you turned sharply down a narrow corridor of green. left, right, right again. you had to get out. had to get to the entrance. but the hedges all looked the same. you could barely see where your feet landed as dusk drowned the world in navy blue.

then — a whisper.

“running from me, darling?”

your heart was pierced by a spear of fear, making your legs loose balance and divert you from the path. you turned the left corner with urgency, hoping to at least lose draco in the maze.

his voice was near. too near.

luck was not on your side. as you bolted again, crashing through a thicket of untrimmed ivy, you emerged into a clearing.

and a terrifying dead end.

he stepped out from the neighboring hedge, moving with the careful grace of a man who had learned to treasure each moment of motion. like someone who’d spent too long unable to move at all.

his haunting voice hit you before his frame did, bouncing around the greenery and shooting straight into your core.

“found you.” it was velvet-laced steel, refined and dangerous, still soaked in that archaic drawl that made your knees tremble.

you backed up until your spine hit the hedge behind you and you curled into yourself, bending your arms in front of you to make a make-shift shield. that only aided him, your eyes now blocked by your self-made barrier.

draco advanced slowly — not like a man chasing, but like one collecting what was already his.

“you can’t escape me.”

your arms did little to protect you as you feel his body heat on yours, his breath fanning over the exposed skin. and when you remembered his weakness — your eyes — and tried to break away your shield, he immediately plopped his hat over the top-half of your face, covering them completely.

“nuh, nuh, we can’t have that again, can we?”

draco’s long fingers ghosted over your temples, adjusting the brim of the top hat so it sloped lower over your face, further obscuring your eyes. it was his own — victorian, dark velvet — worn during centuries of stillness. it smelled like him: old parchment, mossy rain, secrets pressed into stone.

but it wasn’t enough.

“no peeking.” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice now; closer, lower, dripping with victorious delight. “i’ve just got you back.”

you felt the rough tug of fabric being untied; your gardening cloth, pulled from your belt loop. a moment later, it joined the hat, knotted securely around your eyes in practiced, possessive movements.

like a blindfold.

“there. now you may believe me with your body, if not your sight.”

you gasped as his lips found your collarbone again, this time, hungrier. he kissed like he had waited decades to know the taste of flesh, wetting your exposed skin with spit and need.

"touch me more." he murmured, voice crumbling into gravel and satin. “like you did before. every meeting, hands on my face, on my hands… do you have any idea what that did to me, darling?”

you didn’t get the chance to answer.

draco pushed you back gently, letting you feel the hedge at your spine, the dirt soft beneath your knees as he guided you down. he knelt too, with a reverence that belonged to old traditions.

“i have dreamt of this...” he confessed, the edge of his coat brushing your thighs. “when night fell and the world turned its eyes away… i imagined you like this. on your knees. kneeling for your master.”

your fingers trembled as they reached out — found him. warm, alive, impossibly real beneath your palms. your careful touch was redirected by his own hands to his pants, encouraged to explore. to find the hard outline of his cock straining behind the buttons, itching to be freed.

and when you expectantly prodded against his crotch, the protruding bulge left you rubbing your thighs together in anticipation.

“you feel it?” he said softly, breath hitching as you cupped him fully in your palms. “flesh. not stone. and all for you.”

with careful hands, you undid the buttons. thankfully, the victorian attire had an easy-to-open mechanism. his cock sprang free in seconds, hot and heavy against your palm. it twitched when you wrapped your warm fingers around him, a bead of precum sliding along down to your digits.

“good girl.” he purred, one hand tangling in your hair, the other bracing against the hedge behind your head. his hat was long forgotten on the pavement, falling on your way down to this kneeling position.

but the hat was no longer a concern, as your sturdy cloth was blocking your eyes just right.

“taste me. take what you’ve longed for.”

there was no point in denying the want surging inside you, the dryness of your mouth which was only curable by draco’s messy cock. so you opened your mouth and pressed the head to your tongue, slow and teasing, admiring the weight it had.

he hissed sharply through his teeth, head lolling back from the feeling.

“ah—fuck.” draco rarely cursed, but it rolled off his tongue naturally. “so warm. so perfect.”

you swirled your tongue around the head, tasting salt and something ancient beneath the surface — like stone kissed by summer storms. draco’s hips bucked immediately, the feeling of your wet muscle making him groan loudly, but he quickly regained composure.

always the aristocrat. even undone.

“steady, darling…” he muttered, breath ragged. “we’ve… all the time in the world.”

his fingers tightened in your hair as you bobbed lower, taking more of him into your mouth. you could feel the tremble in his thighs, the tightness in his heavy balls, the way centuries of restraint tried not to shatter in your grip.

“beautiful.” his voice cracked. “you were always meant to kneel before me.”

the maze around you was silent, save for the sloshing sounds of your mouth and draco’s barely contained moans — quiet, strangled, like he still couldn’t believe he was free to make them.

you hollowed your cheeks, sucked harder.

“oh—” he choked, head thudding gently forward against the hedge. “yes. just like that. my sweet little gardener. worship me.”

and you did. breathing through your nose, you lowered your head fully onto his cock, making draco hit the back of your throat oh so unceremoniously.

your broken chokes, your drooling lips, your twitching hands, they all contributed to the sensation, making draco grip your scalp harsher and tug at the roots of your hair.

“you are bloody divine.”

he cursed again, one last string of aristocratic filth, and came in your mouth with a gasp like the cracking of old stone — loud, desperate, reverent. you swallowed it all, never once opening your eyes beneath the cloth, savouring the creaminess of his release.

like stone, you stayed still, nose-deep into his navel, welcoming his hefty spurts of cum into your hungry mouth. his legs were trembling, his hips were jutting back and forth with extasy. but alas, draco stilled shortly after, breathless yet aroused beyond compare.

when he pulled out moments later, his touch was gentle on your face as his fingers instructed you to open your mouth. to let him see his seed completely swallowed.

“my good girl.”

but your reward was far from over.

draco leaned down, pressed a kiss to your covered temple — a gentleness so jarring after the feral way he’d just used your mouth. and then you felt it; how his cock twitched again, not even finished with you.

not even close.

“turn for me.” he murmured, lifting your chin with two fingers. “face down, arse up. there’s more i must claim.”

you obeyed without further complaints, breath caught in your throat as your body moved. the hedge behind you scraped your shoulder as you shifted, the cloth over your eyes still snug. your knees found the hard dirt again, but this time, your chest lowered too, forearms braced beneath you as you arched your back and presented yourself to him.

you heard him groan behind you — truly groan.

deep, rough, primal.

“look at you.” he breathed. “so obedient. you’ve no idea what that does to me.”

he knelt behind you, one hand smoothing down your spine like a sculptor reacquainting himself with his abandoned statue. you gasped when his other hand slipped to your waistband, pulling your bottoms down to your knees in one go.

and then, with considerate care, right between your thighs — two long, aristocratic fingers dipping into your slick folds, already drenched with arousal and need.

“so wet.” he murmured, voice thick with disbelief. “all this for me?”

you could only whimper in response, hips grinding back into his hand, asking for more.

draco slipped a finger inside — just one — curling it expertly, teasing the gummy spot that made you see stars behind the blindfold. then another joined, his knuckles gliding with ease as he fingered you open, slow and rhythmic, relishing every soaked sound your cunt made.

“draco– please–”

he leaned forward, hot breath brushing your ear. “i know what you need, dear.”

yet the fingers left you. you nearly cried from the loss, pushing your hips back in an attempt to reconnect with his digits. but they were replaced immediately by the blunt, aching head of his cock, nudging your entrance. you arched further, offering yourself like a prize.

and draco took you like he’d earned it.

with one smooth thrust, he sheltered himself inside, forcing a plethora of moans from the both of you. his grip on your hips turned bruising, holding you steady as he bottomed out, hips flush to your ass, balls close to your clit, cock buried deep where only he belonged.

“fuck.” he hissed, bending over your back as his hips began to move. “so tight. so bloody warm. you were made for this. made for me.”

the pace he set was punishing — precise and powerful, years of immobility fueling each thrust. you clawed into the soil, gasping, whining and whimpering, the stretch of him making your body quake with need.

he held your hips like a man anchoring himself to reality, to you. his cock drove deeper with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping and wetness growing louder, filthier. then he reached down and found your clit, rubbed in merciless circles, as he plowed into you harder from behind.

“say it.” he growled, voice ragged. “say you’re mine.”

you choked on a moan. “yours– draco. i’m yours–!”

“yes, yes, you are.” he thrust harder. “mine to fuck. mine to deflower in the dirt if i so wish. mine to keep.”

soon, your orgasm hit like lightning — white-hot, rolling through your limbs and stealing your breath away. you came around his cock with a cry, pussy clenching so tight it drew a broken, gasping moan from him.

draco wasn’t far behind. he slammed into you once, twice, trice — then spilled another load deep inside, heat flooding you, his cum thick and scorching against your velvety walls. his hands trembled on your body, his breath heavy with relief and admiration.

“mine forever.”

when he pulled out, slow and attentive, your cunt ached from the loss, pulsing to be filled again and again. his fingers trailed your thighs, rubbing around your entrance and smearing the mess he’d made of you. spreading the sticky mixture of your bodies around in utter admiration.

“you bewitched me.” he spoke from behind you, accusing you of witchcraft like he wasn’t the one cursed to be half-statue.

be it jest or fact, you had no moment to respond as his mouth, hot and wet, latched onto your puffy cunt.

“w–wait, draco.” but he didn’t listen, clutching your hips again and forcing you to stay still as he lapped up your release.

he moaned low against your cunt, the sound guttural— unrefined — like a man slipping the leash after centuries of stillness. his tongue moved like he was painting scripture onto your folds, worshipping, devouring, humming with dark delight.

“oh, fuck— draco.” you gasped, unable to do anything but rut your hips back against his face, face collapsed over the dirtied pavement. he growled in approval, fingers digging into your thighs, spreading you wider, eating you deeper.

his tongue lapped up every drop of your combined slick, every pulse of arousal still leaking from your quivering pussy. he didn’t miss a thing. not a tremble. not a twitch.

and if you tried to squirm away, overstimulated, crying with need, he dragged you right back, nose buried between your cheeks and taunting complaints on his lips.

“no.” he muttered darkly. “you don’t run from this. not when i’ve waited centuries to taste you.”

his voice was muffled by your flesh, filthy and fervent. the sharpness of his accent cracked around the vowels like he was losing himself, becoming undone in the most deliciously undignified way.

then he lifted his face from your core just enough to speak clearly.

“you've ruined me.” he said, breathless. “made me fuck like a peasant on the dirt. like i’ve never known silk or propriety. i’m humiliating myself for your cunt, and i don’t even care.”

you let out a helpless sound, somewhere between a sob and a moan, his confession making your cunt drool more on his tongue.

he licked another stripe through your folds, groaning like it hurt. “do you understand what that means, darling? aristocracy runs in my veins.”

briefly tonguing your leaking entrance, he then continued. “but all it took was a gardener with gentle hands and sweet words to make me rut into the grass like i’d forgotten my title.”

draco dragged your hips higher, adjusted your knees against the soil like he was aligning art — then sucked your clit into his mouth and moaned as he did.

you screamed.

your thighs quivered like leaves in a powerful wind. your hands clawed at the hedge in front of you. and still he feasted.

draco malfoy, the statue who had once stood cold and untouchable, now on his knees, face buried in your dripping cunt, completely captivated by the taste of you.

and all you could do was sob his name into the dusk, voice wrecked, as your second orgasm crashed over you. he didn’t stop until your legs collapsed and your body went boneless in the dirt; his lips shiny, chin slick, and expression wickedly dazed.

then, finally, with all the self-satisfaction of a man who had just claimed divinity, he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“take accountability, my darling.”

©dearmisshoney 2025. do not copy, translate, or claim any of my writings or works as your own.

tags: @theodoresvalentine, @cafechichay, @lov3notts, @nottslove

[radiohao]

yushi swears he has an “obvious” crush on you, but you're in major denial

pairings: tokuno yushi x f!reader

genre: fluff, crack, uni!au, soccerplayer!yushi, bulletpoint fic, oblivious!yn, ft. ive rei, sion, riku, friends-to-lovers

warnings: REDO OF THIS FIC, mentions of reader getting sick, one joke abt kidnapping, a mention of a broken wrist but it's not in detail, mentions of getting drunk, not proofread

wc: 2.7k

—

lately, you've been developing an unHEALTHY obsession with the new transfer student, tokuno yushi

he's in your econ class and came in from japan last semester

you still remember him walking in with a gray sweater, dark washed jeans, and soft, tousled raven black hair

and of course you remember you two locking eyes

u swore you were hearing wedding bells imMEdiately

you looked away so fast your neck probably cracked a little

thank god you sat in the back of the room because then you can just stare at this god-given sPECimen every day for an hour

well... nOw he sits right next to you...

it was... an interesting story, to say the least

— flashback —

you're barely awake and class only begun five minutes ago

wHY did you let rei convince you to play roblox obbies with her at 3AM?? half the world is ASLEEP at that time

and now you're suffering the consequences because your eyelids feel like they weigh 10 pounds

you got an americano since you assumed it'd wake you up, but it's so bitter you can't take another sip without scrunching your face in disgust

u should've gotten a frappe instead

your professor clears her voice before speaking

"good morning everyone! with the new semester starting, i thought it'd be nice if we all compress so it's easier to hear. as you may know, i recently got a surgery done in my throat, therefore i can't speak at loud volumes as it strains it-"

you roll your eyes and softly groan at the announcement

oh lord PLEASE you do not want to be sat with some gUy-

"y/n, may you please sit up here at the front next to yushi? thank you."

wHAT??? oh nonono well now u regret ever thinking that because yushi is not just some GUY!!

you mumble curses as you grab your things and make your way to where yushi is sitting

when you get there, his bag is on the seat next to him, which u assUME is your seat

he looks at you just standing there stupidly and his eyes widen before he takes his bag

"oh, sorry." you wave him off and sit next to him

your professor moves some more people to the front before starting her lecture

ykw this is perfect!! you're in the front so u hear her better and won't... fall.... asleeeeeppp.......

your eyes are drooping and your head jerks forward

crap nO not now

you need to take a sip out of your americano- ZZZzZzZzZzZz

—

so you blacked out.

goddAMNIT

you're woken up when someone lightly squeezes your shoulder

"wake up y/n, lecture is over."

"augpghgnm five more minutes plEAse.."

"okay." oh really? okay period!! that usually doesn't work but hey you'll take it! and whoever this is has a cotton candy-like voice that easily puts you back to sleep again

five minutes pass by and your shoulder is being squeezed again

you FORCE your eyes open before you get drowsy again and once u make eye contact with "cotton candy voice" you nearly fall off your chair

tokuno yushi is sitting next to you with his hand on your shoulder

"i'm sorry, did i startle you?" he says softly

you're like ??? what what what

"no, you're good! thanks for giving me a couple extra minutes to sleep," you say with a laugh

he chuckles and shakes his head, saying "don't worry about it. you seemed tired anyway. i'm gonna head out now- oh, also, make sure to check your notebook."

yushi slings his bag over his shoulder and you just nod as he talks (you're losing focus because of how good he looks rn)

"'m yushi, by the way. see you." he waves goodbye and leaves the room

you open your notebook and see that he wrote down notes for you during the lecture

ur eyes are glued to a little note he put in the corner saying "sorry my handwriting sucks lol" and your first coherent thought is I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS MAN

but then you're also like why did he do that in the first place???

he was probably just being nice since you looked so pathetically tired

yeah that's it

— flashback over —

safe to say you would do anything for tokuno yushi

he tells you to do his homework for him? you'd do it. he says to throw out all your clothes? everything is in the dump already. he asks you to jump off a cliff? you're already falling off the ledge.

well now you and yushi are friends.. sort of

you talk every class and text each other

and when you found out he was on the soccer team he asked you to come to his games, and ever since then you've been going to each one

but it's just that sometimes he does things that make your heart jump and your cheeks warm up

like that one time he gave you his jacket after class because it was raining, saying he "didn't want you to catch a cold"

or that other time when he came to your dorm after his game with snacks beause you said you weren't feeling well

you feel like you should believe that he likes you but it just seems too good to be true!!

and if you're being honest there's so many other girls that line up at his door every day, so it wouldn't make sense for him to choose you!!

this man is making you go clinically insane

and rei keeps telling you HE DOES LIKE U GIRL but ur just like no... i don't tHINk so...

you're torn because there are signs that maybe he does feel the same but when you think about his popularity and how much of a wanted bachelor he is, you feel your confidence start to crumble

maybe you should just give up on your man because there is NO WAY he likes you

—

yushi is going to rip his hair out of his head

WHY is it so difficult to ask a girl out?????

truth is, he's liked you since the day he saw you

it was like wedding bells were ringing in his head and he was like YEP this is the mother of my kids right here

the first time he tried to make a move on you was when you were asked to sit next to him

he silently pumped his fist under the table like Y E S this is my chance

and he thought u looked so pretty while sleeping

yushi secretly moved some of your hair behind your ear because he could see it was bothering you, but he didn't tell you as to not sound creepy

and he's pretty proud of his status with you now, but he really wishes you'd just call him out for all the moves he's made on you because he's SHY

he tried to ask you out two (2) times already!!

the first time when you walked out of the lecture hall together and it started POURING

he lended you his hoodie and he was about to confess but it just so happened that rei called you

"y/n, i have something to tell you."

"what is it?" RRRRIIINGNGNG "oh, hold on. hello, rei? wHAt?! you broke your wrist??? oh my gOD- sorry, yushi i have to go.”

that's fine!!!! there's always next time!!!

the next time he tried asking you out was when you said you came down with a fever on the day of his game

horrible game by the way, he played so bad

(he never plays well when you're not there, yushi swears you're his good luck charm)

he bought all your favorite snacks and a plushie and went to your dorm after the game

you open the door wrapped in a blanket and he just wants to cuddle you-

who said that

"hi, ushi," you say with a croak to your voice, "what are you doing here?"

he smiles softly and holds up a bag

"i got you some snacks. thought you didn't eat yet."

you snicker, "how do you always know?"

"i just do."

you invite him inside and have a little chat

about an hour later, you and yushi are sat on opposite sides of the couch

yushi thinks it's now or never and takes a breath, "y/n, i have feelings for you."

hOOOOOOOnnKK SshhhOOOo

what the hell

he looks to the left and sees you snoring your ass off

and yes u look adorbs but REALLY?? he JUST mustered up the balls to confess and you're sleeping

he sighs.

yushi SWEARS his crush on you is obvious, i mean how is it not??? he lends you his stuff, listens to you talk for hours on end, talks to you more than he talks to his own teammates, and buys you small gifts all the time

LITERALLY EVERYONE KNOWS TOO

like the soccer team, the girls that like him, even his younger brother

he'll just have to give it another shot

third time's the charm, i guess

—

okay, yushi has officially devised a plan

well, technically it's his, riku, and sion's plan

basically what's going to happen is yushi invites you to the upcoming soccer game (to which you always go anyway), and when they win the game, he will offer a ride home to you and confess in the car with flowers and a plushie

sion suggested the car thing so there are no distractions and you can't run away ("that sounds like i'm going to kidnap her," yushi deadpans. "lovingly, of course!" sion exclaims)

riku suggested the flowers and plushie so it's less creepy

so actually this isn't yushi's plan at ALL but he will sAy it's his plan anyway because he's the one confessing!!!

alright, game time. (literally)

—

you walk into the lecture hall and sense bad juju

what's going on, you think. you don't like this!!

as you head to your seat, you notice yushi isn't there in the spot next to you

okay wow so you like him so much your body just knows when he's not there??? got it

but nOO :( he's not here!!!! who are u supposed to stare at now!??!?

you grumble a little as you sit down, but you spot a little post-it note on the chair.

huh, weird

taking it off, you read the writing scratched onto the note, with lettering you recognize all too well

'sorry, skipping class today to rest for tonight's game. it'd be great if u were there, like always. have rei drop u off bc i wanna eat out w/you after. c u :) - yewshee'

you laugh at the stupid spelling of his name

he wants to eat out after??? what do you WEAR????

—

it's almost time for the game and ur STRESSING

HWAT DO YOU WEAR OH MY GOD

you settled on a cute frilly blouse and some shorts

pretty but simple (like yushi, you think)

rei drops you off (her wrist is mostly healed) and you find a seat in the middle of the stands

SMACK in the middle to be more specific

it's not rlly what you wanted but you don't mind because the front stands are full of families cheering on their sons and girls in the back cheering on their bfs

u totally don't wish that was you on the top of the stands haha

oop game is starting

you see yushi warming up and your heart swells

he looks SO good in his uniform because you can see his calves and biceps flexing

amen for soccer uniforms

—

yushi feels like he's going to crap his pants

he's already got the usual pre-game jitters, but it's even worse because he can't SEE you in the stands

where the hell are u???????

he's squinting like an idiot and riku laughs at him

"you look dumb as hell," he says

yushi smacks his back and riku winces in pain

just then he sees you, looking around

wow, you look really pretty

"she can't hear you, by the way." sion laughs

what

OH CRAP DID HE SAY THAT OUT LOUD

he groans and rolls his eyes in embarrassment

their coach tells them that the game is going to start soon

at least yushi knows he'll win now, since you're there

—

they won

is yushi surprised? not at all

he KNEW it from the moment he saw your face

now it's time for the next part of the plan: get you in his car

okay that doesn't sound weird at all

um but it's kind of hard trying to get you when there's a swarm of people around him congratulating him

PLEASE he just needs to get to his (soon-to-be) girl

he practically shoves everyone out of the way and heads to the parking lot

thank god you're already there, leaning against the hood of his car

"sorry, i was held back a bit," he starts

you smile and omg yushi thinks he's gonna faint

"it's okay. but congrats!! you guys did so good, as always."

the two of you open the car and sit inside

"i'm excited! i didn't eat dinner yet since you said we'd be going out- hello why are you not starting the car" you say

"y/n, i have something to tell you." he says cautiously

your head tilts to the side and you gesture for him to continue

he pulls out the flowers and plushie from the backseat and you softly gasp

the bouquet is beautiful, full of your favorite flowers

yushi clears his throat and leans forward a bit

"i have feelings for you. i've liked you for around... 5 months now? but yeah, i thought i'd let you know. if you don't feel the same way, it's okay, we can just move past it. the last thing i want is for you to be uncomfortable, which is now making me realize that i probably shouldn't have done this in the car because it seems weird-"

he's basically rambling at this point but he doesn't cARE he just needs to get it all out before he bails out on himself

"you... like... me??" you question

yushi nods with a small smile on his face

"are you sure? i mean, like, why me?"

"i just feel so comfortable and safe around you. i love how independant, thoughtful and selfless you are, and how you always appreciate the small things in life. i love how genuine you are, because it never makes me feel like i'm being judged or lied to- it just feels real. you always think about others before yourself, and that makes me want to be the person to take care of you."

wow you did not expect that

yushi just kinda stares at u because he didn't expect to say that himself either

haha that's so sweet of him,,, oh god,,,,, this is a LOT to take in

why do you feel lightheaded and why is your vision going black

um what's happeni-

—

so you passed out

maybe it was the shock or the mental stress of the situation but you BLACKED OUT

you wake up to yushi fanning you with some random papers from his backpack that he hurriedly took out

he even has a hand on your wrist to check if you still have a pulse lmao

he freaked OUT when he saw all the color drain from your face

"hey- you okay?" he asks worriedly

you chuckle weakly and sit up, brushing the hair out of ur face

"yeah, sorry i just- i guess i was just surprised."

"did you want me to take you home? or to urgent care?"

"nO- i'm good, i swear, yushi. i just- it was a lot to take in. i didn't think someone like you would like someone like me, but i shouldn't have doubted you. i feel the same way. that was really sweet of you- this whole confession was, to be honest. i don't mind you being the one to take care of me. i want that, actually. i want that with you."

you two are just staring at each other like haha what do we do now

yushi leans forward even more and cups your cheek with his palm gently

"can i kiss you?"

GOD and he asks for consent, how perfect can he get??

"of course."

he presses his lips against yours and they mold together so perfectly it's like he was made to kiss you

when he pulls away you just look at each other fondly

"oh, and y/n?"

"hm?"

"please don't pass out on me like that again, i almost got a heart attack."

you laugh and rub the back of his hand softly

"no promises."

— bonus —

at the diner, you facetime rei and tell her the news

"GOD, FINALLY!!! i nEVer thought this day would come — thank you for having the balls to ask her out, yushi-" she's squealing so much on the other side of the phone she literally starts lagging

riku and sion just laugh at her reaction

"you know," sion starts, "yushi got drunk once and was ranting about you-"

"oh my GOD i remember that!! he was like 'y/n, i looooveeee youuuu...' i think i have a video, actually-" riku adds

"god, please don't." your bf says, massaging his temples

you laugh

he's so cute

—

author's note: hiii!! i loved this banner so much i thought it deserved a better fic to go with it haha so here we go :) have a good day/night everyone!

[wrldhoon]

I LIKE ME BETTER𑁤 y.jw

┆ ⤿ 💌 ⌗ LOVE SONGS — JUNGWON’S ENTRY

PAIRING. jungwon ༝ reader

WORD COUNT. 4.5k

GENRE. college au ⋆ fluff ⋆ crack

WARNINGS. mentions of alcohol, reader gets wasted, tiny innuendo but nothing crazy

note: not super sure if i like this or not, but it's too cute not to share. first part of my mini series is complete!! i hope you guys enjoy ♡ they're so cute in this i want to die.

TAGS. @ilyunjina

college parties were never really your thing, but a consequence of being best friends with yunjin, the jennifer huh, was that she was going to drag you to one every. single. weekend.

every night, somehow always at exactly eight o’clock, she would barge into your room with that mischievous grin on her face. she would tear your drawers apart, looking for an outfit she deemed fit. occasionally, she would throw out a complaint about how lackluster your closet was. as her best friend, you knew telling her ‘no’ was useless. every attempt you made to convince her to let you rot away alone at home was of no use.

“you look so hot,” she squealed, watching from your bed as you applied the finishing touches of your makeup. she was already dolled up from head to toe, sporting a plain white tube top and ripped blue jeans, her leather jacket laid out beside her. an item she always brought in case it got too cold.

you wore a similar outfit—a black cropped tank and cargo pants, pairing it with a knitted white bolero and sneakers. it was simple, but comfortable. you sprayed an ungodly amount of setting spray onto your face, ensuring that you will not fall victim to frat house makeup tonight.

your desk was full of soju bottles, courtesy of your lovely roommate, and you watched as she reached for a half opened one. “this is gonna be so much fun! heeseung and jay are hosting tonight, which means unlimited booze and the place is gonna be full of eye candy. maybe you’ll get lucky tonight,” yunjin teased, taking another (comedically large) sip of her drink.

you rolled your eyes, but she didn’t miss the quiet chuckle you let out. you reached for a bottle, “definitely not on my bucket list tonight, but i fully support you if that’s what you’re after.” the sweet peach flavor went down easy, filling your chest with a warmth that was reserved for nights out on the weekend.

yunjin responded with a shrug, downing the rest of it in one go. your phone dinged, lighting up with a message notification.

jake (australian)

im here 😋 lets GOOOOOOOO

with a snicker, you quickly typed a response before shoving your phone in your back pocket. “jake’s here,” at your words, yunjin cheered happily before running out of your room to put on her shoes. you quickly fixed your hair before grabbing your bag, filling it up with whatever you might need for the night. lipstick, hand sanitizer, deodorant, power bank, and a pack of tissues.

perfect.

you followed yunjin out of the apartment, meaningless conversation filling the elevator as you headed for the lobby. once you made it outside, you immediately spotted jake’s car. he was filthy rich, and his car alone could probably pay off all of your current bills and grad school tuition.

you slid into the passenger side, the smell of clean leather and cologne filling your senses. you reached over the middle console to give him a hug, his hair brushing against your cheek.

you and jake have been close friends since you started university. you met in your freshman year physics class, bonding over math formulas that didn’t make any sense to you (it still doesn’t), but always seemed to make sense to him. he became your tutor for the remainder of that semester, answering your 3:00am facetime calls just to see you crashing out over another assignment without complaining. since then, you were inseparable.

“whaddup,” yunjin said cooly, dapping up the boy from the back seat. “are you guys ready to drink?” jake sang, his engine roaring to life as he put his car in drive. you let out a soft huff, hand placed over your stomach.

“she fed me enough soju to kill a bull,” the drink provided a slight buzz, and you silently thanked whatever holy being above decided to bless you with a high tolerance to alcohol. your comment earned a hearty laugh from jake while yunjin simply smiled at you, her elbows up against the console as she peered between the two of you. “it isn’t a successful pregame unless you leave juuust a little bit drunk. it’s a pregame for a reason. preparing for the game that is the DAE frat house.”

the rest of the drive was quiet, aside from the sensual rnb playing softly from his car speakers. you watched as the university campus came into view, a short ten minute drive from your shared apartment with yunjin.

there were other students roaming the streets—some returning from their friday night classes and others laughing a little too loud, clearly drunk, and headed to another party. jake parked along the street, turning on his emergency brake and turning off the car with a twist of his key. he stepped out, jogging over to your side to open the door for you, ever the gentleman.

you thanked him with a soft smile, yunjin immediately grabbing your hand and dragging you to the front door. the three of you walked in, loud party music booming through the house and lights turned to a deep purple color. it was warm and smelled like sweat and spilled vodka.

lovely.

you squeezed through the crowd with yunjin pulling you along and jake trailing from behind. you stopped once you reached the kitchen, a loud squeal catching your attention. “you’re here!!” a short brunette came running up, throwing her arms around yunjin’s neck. “chaewon! oh god, you reek of alc.”

the girl giggled, swatting aimlessly at yunjin’s arm. her eyes landed on you, widening in pure glee before she took hold of your arms, pulling you into her own. you let out a shocked ‘oh’, your hands hovering awkwardly over her back. “you must be y/nnie. you’re so pretty.. and you smell good. like.. flowers and happiness,” she slurred, nose buried in your hair.

yunjin cupped her mouth to suppress a laugh while jake watched in amusement. “thank.. you?” you gently pried her off of you, hands on her shoulders to stabilize her. “alright, let’s get you some water.” yunjin chimed in before whisking the girl away, mouthing a quick ‘sorry’ to you as she searched for a clean cup.

“well, she seems cool,” jake chirped, eyes darting from her wobbly figure to your own. “drinks?” you gave him a curt nod, turning towards the counter to scan the endless amount of options before you. vodka, soju, beer, whiskey—you could throw up just looking at it.

you settled on a quick shot of cheap vodka, while jake made himself a mixed drink. he was driving tonight, so he couldn’t allow himself to get wasted.

a few of your friends began flooding the kitchen, greeting one another with cheery ‘hellos’ and offers to take more shots. jay and heeseung soon joined in, dapping up jake with red solo cups in hand. “y/n, you made it!” jay cheered, raising his voice to be heard over ‘beauty and a beat’ by justin bieber that vibrated the walls. he gave you a quick side hug before shaking his cup gently in your direction, a subtle invitation for another drink. you nodded at him, turning your head just in time to lock eyes with heeseung.

“hi pretty,” he wore his signature smile, arms wrapping around your shoulders. you could smell the lingering traces of alcohol in his breath, arm splayed over his waist as you returned the hug. “thanks for hosting tonight.” you pulled away, taking the shot glass from between jay’s fingers and downing it in one go. the boy whooped from beside you before taking one himself.

“you can thank us by drinking~” heeseung sang, filling up his cup for the nth time tonight.

free alcohol is free alcohol, right?

thirty minutes later, you were seven shots deep and leaning drunkenly against the kitchen counter, elbows propped up behind you. jake stood beside you, talking animatedly with heeseung about fifa.

“dude, ni-ki, you’re like… ridiculously tall. you look like a giraffe,” the younger boy raised his eyebrows, pursing his lips. “thanks, dude. i think?”

“you’re so welcome, dude.”

your head throbbed and the room looked like it was spinning. you reached for the cup behind you, grabbing the luke warm brita off the counter and filling it up. you pressed it to your lips, chugging it like your life depended on it. placing it down, your head turned out of instinct as you heard another round of cheers from your friends.

a boy had walked in, greeting everyone with a bright and pretty smile. he had soft blonde hair that caught underneath the dim lighting of the kitchen, pretty cat-like eyes, and a devastatingly adorable dimple on his left cheek.

you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol—no, it definitely wasn’t—he was just gorgeous.

and totally out of your league.

that didn’t stop you though.

“holy shit, you’re so hot.” it came out before you could help it, all of your friends’ heads snapping in your direction in shock. the blonde gawked at you in disbelief before his expression turned into one of amusement, “oh! thank you.. and you definitely aren’t wasted, right?” his tone was teasing, his cheek sinking in slightly as he chewed on it.

you let out a drunken giggle, your head moving side to side. “i don’t even like alcohol..” your hand swatted at the air, elbow slipping off of the counter. jake grabbed your arm, holding you up to prevent you from falling straight onto the kitchen floor.

“jungwon, y/n—y/n, jungwon. not sure if you’ll remember tomorrow though,” jay said, earning chuckles from the other guys. jungwon simply shook his head, smile still evident on his face. he quickly joined in on the drinks, grabbing a cup and mixing up his own concoction.

conversations blurred together, shot glasses clinking, bottles steadily draining.

you didn’t even realize yunjin had disappeared until jake leaned in and asked if you’d seen her. somewhere in the background, you caught sunghoon mentioning her name—something about chaewon, but it was fuzzy. the alcohol was definitely hitting you now, warmth spreading through your body, cheeks flushed, and eyes heavy-lidded.

eventually, you slipped away to get some air. the heat was unbearable, and the packed crowd and blaring music only made it worse—you needed space.

you found an empty pool chair in the backyard and dropped into it with a heavy sigh, letting yourself sink back. a shadow cast over you, and as your eyes adjusted, there he was—the familiar hot blonde from earlier, “you alright?”

“just sleepy. and hot. really hot,” you whined, hands tugging at your bolero to pull it off. jungwon chuckled, crouching down beside you. “do you wanna go home?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

so fucking cute.

yeah, it wasn’t the alcohol.

“not with you, pervert.”

jungwon swore his ears were on fire. his eyes widened so big they might as well pop out of their sockets. he cleared his throat, eyes unable to look at your sleepy figure any longer without feeling bashful, “n-not like that! i meant do you want me to drive you home? like, to your own house. and i leave you there. inside. alone. and i will go to my respective home.”

“oh! yes please,” you dragged on the last syllable, hands pressed against the cool fabric of the chair to push yourself into an upright position. “where’s jakey? he drove me. will he be mad?” your lower lip jutted outwards, a small pout on your face.

“i don’t think he’ll be mad. let me go ask him, okay? don’t go anywhere,” jungwon patted your shoulder before standing, stepping back inside to find your best friend.

a few minutes later, the two boys came back outside to find you fast asleep. they exchanged knowing glances before jake spoke up, “are you cool with taking her back to her apartment? i’m helping sunoo try to wrestle heeseung out of his smelly party clothes and into his pajamas. plus, i still have no fucking clue where yunjin is,” the last part came out a bit strained, annoyance at his missing friend bubbling to the surface.

jungwon let out a soft chuckle, his hand coming up to slap jake’s back. “yeah, i’ll take her. just send me her address,” with that he approached you, dozed off and snoring just a little bit, and scooped you up in his arms. they walked out to his car, jake popping the passenger door open and helping him carefully ease you inside.

once you were secure, they closed the door and bid each other goodbye. jungwon hopped into the driver’s seat, turning on the car and setting the heater on low. once he got your address from jake, he clicked on the link and began the venture to your apartment. occasionally, he would glance over to check if you had woken up.

nothing.

your lips were slightly parted, head pressed up against the window as you slept peacefully. a grin made its way to his face, knowing you’d definitely face a nasty hangover tomorrow.

he pulled up to your apartment complex, parking his car before getting out to help you inside. when he reached to unbuckle you, you let out a sleepy whine. “c’mon, y/n, i need to get you home.” his words were soft, arms moving underneath your knees and back to pull you out. your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the brighter lights of the street lamps.

“oh my god, hot guy. am i still dreaming?” your voice was barely above a whisper, eyes opening and closing at the slowest pace known to man. jungwon grinned, eyes trained on the path in front of him as he walked with you into your building. “nope, definitely not dreaming. hot guy is carrying you home.”

“i knew it. pervert..”

“not like that!”

a few weeks after your first meeting, you two quickly became good friends. he began hanging out with the group more often, simply to see you.

he knew he could’ve just asked you to hang out alone, without prying eyes and teasing comments, but he was scared. it was obvious you were at the least attracted to him, hence the ‘hot guy’ nickname your friends still haven’t let go of. when he finally mustered up the courage (courtesy of jay who threatened to ask you out if jungwon didn’t grow the balls to do so himself) to pop the question, you happily agreed.

score—you managed to bag hot guy.

three months later, you and jungwon had made your relationship official. not a single person in your friend group was surprised at the new relationship.

it just made sense. you were two halves of one whole.

you couldn’t really pinpoint the exact moment it happened—when the way you felt about him started shifting into something deeper, something a little heavier.

something more like love.

of course, you liked him. he wouldn’t be your boyfriend otherwise, but your liking started to twist painfully in your chest, ready to explode at any given moment.

it wasn’t sudden, more like a slow unraveling—but there were signs.

the first time was when the two of you decided to spend the night in at his apartment. the sun had already set, the faint glow of city lights shining through the large windows. you were sat on his couch, scrolling away on your phone as he stood in the kitchen. he stared at the inside of his fridge—milk, a carton of eggs, a few sauce bottles, and a pack of soju.

“babe, i think we should order in,” you looked up from your phone, catching a glimpse of his defeated expression before searching for the delivery app on your phone. “we really should go to the store. we have… like, nothing.”

jungwon sat down on the couch beside you, his side pressed up against your own as he watched you browse through dinner options, “are you craving anything?” you questioned, your free hand landing on his leg to fidget with the extra pockets decorating his pants.

jungwon bit his lip, thinking quietly. “maybe pizza? ooo, or chinese. we can get those noodles you like—oh! or we can get wings? i heard about this crazy deal the other day from jake…” you watched silently as he rambled on, eyes sparkly and hands moving in an animated manner that made your heart squeeze painfully in adoration. he did that a lot.

jungwon, realizing you hadn’t spoken, turned to face you. he blinked, his eyebrows furrowing cutely as you continued to watch him with a stupid little smile on your face, “what?” he quipped, starting to wonder if the hunger was starting to make you crazy. “is there something on my face?”

you shook your head, “nothing. you’re just cute.”

jungwon sat, stunned at your sudden compliment before he grinned, wide enough to make your own cheeks hurt just from looking at it. he threw his arms around you, peppering kisses on your face as you shouted in protest.

it was clear he thought the same thing about you, too.

the second time was when you went out to shop for groceries. yunjin had complained about the lack of snacks in the house, so you took the opportunity to drag jungwon along with you. he was very helpful, aside from when he would get distracted by every little thing that caught his attention.

“babe, look,” you heard from behind you, turning your head to see what your boyfriend was preoccupied with this time. “turtle chips. do you think they taste like turtle?”

you raised an eyebrow at his sudden question, staring in amusement (and a little something that resembled reconsideration of your whole relationship) as he smelled the bag.

the outside of the bag.

strange guy.

“i think it’s just ‘cause of the mascot, won.”

“you never know these days..”

you laughed as he tilted his head, lips pursed and brows lifted slightly before putting the bag down. he gently nudged to you the side with a bump of his hip, pushing the cart as you marched ahead.

he watched as you read off the grocery list, placing things into the cart. he sported a little smile, studying you with gentle eyes. being here with you, shopping for more snacks than real groceries, felt so domestic.

so natural.

it tugged a little at his heartstrings, warmth blooming in his chest.

it was in these quiet, everyday moments that he took the time to really admire you, picking apart the minor details that just made you so… you.

the way you chewed your lip when making decisions, the crease between your brows forming when you couldn’t find whatever you were searching for, the way you blew your hair out of your face when a strand of it fell in front of your eyes.

his mind and his heart were so full of you, and he hoped that would never change.

“jungwon, are you even listening?” your voice pulled him out of his thoughts, shaking his head a little as if forgetting where he was. “um, yeah! definitely.”

you gave him a blank stare, one that he returned with a sheepish smile, “no… sorry?”

you let out a groan before turning around and sauntering off, stomping away like an angry child. he chased after you, the shopping cart bumping into one of the aisles with a loud crash that made you cringe.

”w-wait! babe, i’m listening! for real now!”

the third time was when you were all hanging out at sunoo and riki’s apartment. everyone sat in a circle in the living room, an array of random snacks and drinks littered across the coffee table and floor. sunoo was in the middle of a very dramatic rendition of how he embarrassed himself in front of the group of freshmen he was in charge of during orientation week. laughter flooded the apartment, a feeling of peace settling into your body as you followed along with whatever he was talking about.

“i didn’t even see him coming!” jake bursted into a fit of uncontrollable giggles, doubling over and collapsing into jungwon’s lap who was sat next to him, clapping his hands loudly. you swore you could see tears prick at the corner of his eyes from how hard he was cracking up.

you excused yourself to the bathroom, earning a little nod from your friends before they continued their extremely hilarious conversation. you took the time to clean yourself up, wiping away at the smudged mascara that appeared as a result of your evening with your friends.

a few minutes passed before you stepped out, turning off the lights with a soft click of the switch. as you made your way back, you paused in the hallway when you heard your name come out of your boyfriend’s mouth. you stood around the corner, listening in on their conversation.

“oh my god, it was so funny. y/n came out of her room with this HUGE blue wig on her head. i think i peed myself a little,” jungwon said, his hands moving in that animated manner as if to show just how big your wig was.

“hate to break it to you, but that was my idea. i told her a homer and marge couple costume would be cute. i wasn’t wrong.” yunjin chimed in, failing to hold in the laugh that came spilling out. jungwon stood up suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at his friend, “SO IT WAS YOUR FAULT I HAD TO WEAR A BALD CAP!”

at this point everyone had laid across the floor, rolling over and slapping the person next to them in amusement. “at least y/n looked good! couldn’t fit through the door though. head was too big,” you pressed your fingers to your lips at heeseung’s joke, trying your best not to reveal yourself from where you were hiding.

you remember the moment like it was yesterday. it was a fond one, a story you shared often with your friends.

jungwon rolled his eyes. he sat down with a loud sigh, turning his head with his eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest, “she’s always pretty. but next time, she’s getting the bald cap,” you smiled at his comment, leaning against the wall as you watched him fondly. when he opened his eyes, they locked with yours. they widened in surprise before he returned the smile, the dimple on his cheek that you loved kissing appearing with it.

you walked back over to your seat, squeezing yourself in between jungwon and riki, “i am never wearing a bald cap, thank you very much. that’s all you. for the rest of your life. until you actually start going bald too. then, you won’t need one!”

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

you stared at the photobook in your hands, fingers tracing the edges of each polaroid that sat snugly between the pages. you made it a tradition to snap a photo every time you hung out, a way to preserve your memories forever in colored ink.

one from the party you first met at, another from the pool party you and yunjin hosted last summer, one from your camping trip, and others—all of them serving as a reminder of the joy you experienced with jungwon and your friends from the past year.

you closed the book gently, the soft smile never leaving your face. the gentle hum of music played out of the speaker tucked into the corner of jungwon’s living room.

you heard it—the first song he ever sent to you through text, a little ‘this made me think of you’ message following shortly after. the apartment smelled like warm sugar and the lingering traces of his cologne, a scent you began to consider home.

jungwon was in the kitchen, probably making breakfast like he always did. he knew how you took your coffee by heart, never failing to wake you up with it each morning with a sleepy grin on his face. you placed the book next to your phone, lighting up with a notification from yunjin declaring yet another group hang out you simply could not afford to miss.

you stood up from the couch, your fluffy house slippers padding against the floor as you walked over to jungwon.

leaning against the kitchen island, you stared at his messy morning hair and broad back, clad in the loose t-shirt he woke up in. he turned around with a smile on his face, one that never failed to appear every time he saw you, “hi, angel. what were you up to?”

you returned the gesture, happily taking your favorite mug out of his hands, “i was just looking through our photos. we should buy more film soon, by the way.” jungwon hummed in response, hands moving to plate your food.

“we can over the weekend,” he replied, sliding it in front of you before pressing a long kiss to your forehead. the smell of sweet, buttery pancakes and bacon filled your senses. you noticed the strawberries that were cut up into little hearts that sat neatly off to the side.

just how you liked them.

“i’m gonna go change. yunjin will actually skin me alive if we’re late again,” he grumbled before disappearing into his bedroom.

you watched him walk away, his golden locks bouncing with each step. you let out a quiet laugh, picking up your fork and digging in.

it wasn’t difficult to understand, then.

somewhere along the way, ‘i’ started turning into ‘we’.

his hand started to fit in yours like it was always meant to be there. your mornings were often spent together rather than separately—much to yunjin’s dismay, who swore he had completely stolen you away from her.

your chest ached, but not in a painful way. it was the kind of ache that comes with realizing you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be—right here with him by your side.

because he never said “i love you” like it was something he owned. rather, he meant it like something you had built—together.

jungwon didn’t just love you.

he included you.

in his life, in every word he spoke, every story he shared, and every moment he lived.

you realized you liked yourself more when you were apart of something—something soft, but heavy with meaning and purpose.

something, or someone, like yang jungwon.

jungwon who turned ‘we’ into something more than just a simple word.

jungwon who loved you delicately, but still passionate in his own way, who assured you from the very beginning that he was all in.

he introduced you to a type of love that was soft and easy, but it was one that meant everything.

to put it simply, you liked yourself better when you were with him.

you always had, and you always will.

“y/n, have you seen my sweater? if riki took it again, i swear i’m about to go full jackie chan on that kid,” his voice called from down the hall, sharp and exasperated.

a sudden thud made you flinch, followed by a muffled yelp and the clatter of hangers shifting in his closet.

then, a beat later—slightly winded, definitely bruised ego.

“i’m fine! totally fine... ow.”

yeah, always.

fin.

© wrldhoon 2025

[helionepho]

Howl In My Chest Chap. 6

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ HOWL IN MY CHEST Chapter 6 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

pairings: werewolves!the boyz x fem!reader

main pairing: werewolf!sunwoo x fem!reader

genre: smut, suggestive, slow burn, supernatural au, werewolf au, hurt/comfort, slight harem, love triangle (or more), soulmate au, domestic au, fluff

warnings: smut 18+ (MDNI), suggestive content, explicit words, mention of dead body, cursing, swearing, make-out, dry humping, intimate touching, slight edging (?), possessive!sunwoo

wc: 7.0k

status: on going

chapter list: ➤ introduction ➤ chapter 1 ➤ chapter 2 ➤ chapter 3 ➤ chapter 4 ➤ chapter 5 [smut] ➤ chapter 6 [smut]

tag lists: @babigriin @jwiloves @i8xuhao @bee-the-loser @blossominghunnie 𖹭

The morning air was crisp. Not cold. Just sharp enough to bite gently at your skin, like it was reminding you to stay alert.

From the porch steps, you sat wrapped in your cardigan, a mug of warm tea in your hands, and a blanket curled around your legs. The rising sun painted the clearing gold, shadows slicing across the dirt like quiet warnings.

And out there, in the middle of it all—was the pack.

Training.

Shirtless.

You weren’t exactly proud of how many times you’d forgotten to sip your tea.

Sangyeon barked orders from one side of the field, his voice low but commanding. Jacob and Juyeon were sparring in the center, dust kicking up beneath their feet as their bodies collided with playful but sharp precision.

Chanhee was leaning against a tree, stretching with bored elegance, while Eric and Haknyeon tossed each other around near him like oversized puppies.

Changmin and Kevin were warming up and exercising in place, their eyes focused.

And Sunwoo—

Sunwoo was drenched in sweat, hair mussed, chest rising and falling as he dropped into a fighting stance opposite Hyunjae.

A single bead of sweat slipped from Sunwoo’s forehead, trailing down with aching slowness until it clung to the sharp cut of his jaw. The vein in his neck stood out, pulsing with restrained power just beneath his flushed skin. And the way his thick brows furrowed in focus made your stomach flutter in a very unholy way.

He was beautiful. They all were, really—but Sunwoo?

He was something else entirely.

He looked over at you once. Just a flicker. Just enough to catch your eye—and smirk.

Caught.

You looked away fast, pretending to sip your tea like you weren’t just ogling your possibly-rutting, fully-shirtless werewolf boy from the porch like some Victorian maiden.

He’d definitely noticed.

Before you could recover, the air changed.

You felt it first—an eerie stillness. The birds quieted. The breeze dropped. Like the trees themselves were holding their breath.

Then, there was a sound of rapid footfalls.

Heads turned at once.

Younghoon broke through the treeline at full sprint, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his temples, eyes wide with something not even adrenaline could explain.

He stumbled into the clearing, panting like he’d been chased.

“Something’s wrong,” Sangyeon said immediately, stepping forward. “What happened?”

The others tensed. Sparring halted.

You stood up slowly from the porch steps, heart beginning to race.

Younghoon didn’t speak for a beat—just dragged in ragged breaths, bent slightly forward as if trying to force oxygen back into his lungs.

“I—I was doing my usual run,” he started, voice rough. “Everything was normal until I crossed the eastern ridge.”

Sunwoo had gone still beside Hyunjae, every muscle locked in quiet readiness.

Younghoon continued, jaw tight. “I picked up a scent. Faint, but wrong. Like… like decay, but colder. Metallic. Not human. Not natural.”

Sangyeon frowned deeply. “And?”

“I followed it. Tracked it as far as the south boundary. That’s when I found the first sign—” Younghoon’s breath hitched. “A deer. Torn open. Limbs bent wrong. No bite marks. No scavenging. Just… shredded. Like it was a message.”

The silence after that was thick. Weighted.

“And the wards?” Changmin asked.

“They were flickering,” Younghoon confirmed. “Just briefly. But enough. I almost missed it. Like something was testing them.”

Hyunjae swore under his breath. Chanhee went pale.

“And then…” Younghoon’s voice dropped further. “I caught another scent. Blood. Fresh. I went closer—carefully. And I found a body.”

Your heart dropped.

“A hunter,” Younghoon said quietly. “Same one we saw yesterday, body near the back trail. Rifle next to his body.”

Juyeon swore this time, his fists clenching at his sides.

“No other tracks?” Sangyeon asked, eyes narrowing.

Younghoon shook his head. “No humans. No boot prints. Just the body. And that same scent—the same one that’s been circling us for days. Like rot and frost.”

A beat passed.

Then Sunwoo stiffened.

You saw it before anyone else did—the way his body shifted subtly in front of you. His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing toward the edge of the woods.

“…Do you smell that?” he murmured.

Sangyeon froze. “What is it?”

But Sunwoo didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

Because you saw it in his eyes.

His body moved before his words could catch up—protective. He stepped back toward you in a single, smooth motion and placed himself squarely in front of you, his chest rising, muscles tense like a drawn bow.

“Something’s watching,” he said, low and grave. “It’s here.”

The wind shifted again.

And the forest held its breath.

***

The trees were too still.

Not a single leaf rustled. Not a single bird called.

Sunwoo stood in front of you—his back rigid, jaw clenched tight. Every inch of him screamed ready to fight. His eyes scanned the tree line with deadly calm, but his body had already made the decision:

You were to be protected first. Everything else could burn.

The others picked up on it instantly.

Younghoon shifted subtly to your other side. Juyeon stepped closer behind Sangyeon without a word, his eyes sharpened as his wolf stirred beneath his skin. Hyunjae tensed like a spring beside him. Sangyeon was already moving—every step calculated, controlled.

No panic.

But all of them knew this wasn’t normal.

This was the veilwalker.

“I don’t see anything,” Hyunjae muttered under his breath. “But I can feel it.”

“It’s behind the wards,” Juyeon said. His voice was low. “Just outside the border. Watching. Waiting.”

You glanced out at the trees, heart hammering. But there was nothing—no shape, no eyes, no rustle.

Just feeling.

You weren’t sure how to describe it. Only that it crawled over your skin like static. Like being stared at by something ancient. Hungry.

“What do you want me to do?” you asked quietly, eyes darting to Sangyeon.

“You’re staying right here,” Sunwoo said before Sangyeon could speak.

Sangyeon didn’t contradict him.

Instead, he turned to the others. “Form a perimeter. Don’t cross the wards unless absolutely necessary. Juyeon—east. Hyunjae—west. Jacob and Kevin, take the northern point. Others—stay close to the porch with (Y/N). Sunwoo, you’re with me.”

Eric muttered under his breath, “Should’ve brought the damn sage water.”

You opened your mouth to protest—you can help, you can fight—but Sunwoo turned, cupped your cheek gently, and whispered, “Please. Just stay near the door. If something goes wrong, you run inside and don’t look back. Promise me.”

Your throat tightened.

You nodded.

He pressed his forehead briefly to yours. No words. Just breath and skin. Then he was gone, slipping like smoke into the clearing.

The pack moved with frightening efficiency.

You watched, nails digging into your blanket, as they spread out into formation. Wary. Silent.

A predator pack.

And still—nothing moved beyond the trees.

But something was there. You could feel it. Cold eyes dragging across your skin.

Suddenly—

Hyunjae raised his head. “There,” he whispered.

All eyes turned.

At the far edge of the trees, barely visible between two wide trunks—

A figure.

Not moving. Not hiding. Just… standing.

Tall. Too tall. Shoulders too narrow. Limbs too long, like they’d been pulled by the wrong god—stretched and bent into something that only vaguely remembered being human. Its long, black hair dragging against the ground like rot trailing behind it.

Its face was a blur.

Or maybe your eyes just refused to see it.

But even that was enough.

The pack snarled as one, a low growl rising from every throat. Veins shimmered gold and silver beneath skin. Muscles tensed.

It didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

But the longer you stared, the more wrong it felt. Like it was peeling back something invisible just by standing there. Like its very presence was erosion—of peace, of sense, of reality.

Then—without warning—it smiled.

You knew it was smiling at you.

And the moment you registered it—

A sharp bolt of pain cracked through your skull.

You gasped—hands flying to your temples as the world tilted sharply beneath your feet. The air thickened. Your vision blurred. And your knees buckled, legs trembling under the pressure of something invisible and dark pressing down on your mind.

You clutched your head as the ringing in your ears exploded—high, deafening, a sharp hinggggggg that drowned out every voice, every sound, every breath.

Sunwoo was suddenly in front of you—his mouth moving, eyes wide in panic—but you couldn’t hear him.

Not even a single word.

The ringing in your head consumed everything.

He caught you just as your knees gave out, strong arms wrapping around your body before you could hit the porch floor. He held you tightly, voice frantic and trembling.

Still muted.

Still lost in that awful, suffocating tone.

And at that very second, as Sangyeon shifted into a colossal wolf poised to attack, the thing simply vanished.

Gone.

Just like that.

And you collapsed right in Sunwoo’s arms.

***

The next thing you knew—

You were in the cabin, sprawled on the couch, a cold cloth pressed gently to your forehead. Chanhee was crouched beside you, checking your pulse, while Eric hovered nervously behind him. The others paced nearby, silent, sharp-eyed.

Sunwoo was on the floor beside you—knees bent, one hand holding yours like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

His eyes were red.

“You’re okay,” he whispered. “You’re okay now.”

***

“We’ve confirmed it,” Chanhee said. “That was the Veilwalker.”

Juyeon’s jaw clenched. “But why show itself like that?”

“To send a message,” Sangyeon answered. “It wanted us to see it. To feel it.”

Hyunjae added quietly, “And it did something to her. That means its focus has narrowed.”

Sunwoo looked up, rage simmering in his eyes. “It touched her again without crossing the wards.”

Jacob nodded grimly.

You swallowed, still weak, but conscious. The chill hadn’t left your bones. Not really.

“It knew I could feel it,” you whispered. “It wanted me to.”

Sangyeon looked at the group.

“We’ll hunt them tonight,” he said. “No exceptions. No delays. This ends here.”

No one argued.

And as the cabin shifted into motion again, Sunwoo never once let go of your hand.

***

Sunlight filtered through the wide front windows of the basecamp’s living room, laying golden bars across the floorboards. A large map had been spread across the low table, marked with routes, and scent trails.

The pack lingered around the table, still shirtless from earlier. Skin glistened faintly with sweat, muscles taut, eyes still glowing faintly with the burn of their wolves just beneath the surface.

Sangyeon stood at the head of the table, arms crossed over his bare chest, his voice steady as he laid out tonight’s patrol plan.

“We’ve had reports of movement just east of the boundary line,” he said. “Unclear if it’s veilwalker-related, but I want two teams moving simultaneously to cover the perimeter.”

You sat quietly on the couch, wedged between Kevin and Chanhee, just observing—half of you still feeling like an outsider, the other half already stitched into this strange, dangerous family.

Sunwoo leaned forward from where he stood, eyes sharp on the map. “We should move along Ridgeview,” he said. “It’s faster. Higher ground. If they’re circling again, we’ll see them before they see us.”

Younghoon didn’t even lift his head from where he was studying the southern route. “It’s too exposed.”

“We’ll be faster,” Sunwoo said again, voice calm but firm. “If we hesitate, we lose ground.”

“That’s not the point,” Younghoon snapped, finally looking up. “We don’t need to outrun anything—we need to stay alive.”

Sunwoo’s expression didn’t change, but the room got quieter.

Sangyeon glanced between them but didn’t interfere—yet.

“You always pick the path with the highest risk,” Younghoon continued, voice sharpening. “You want to play hero, fine. But you’re the first one bleeding every time. Or dying.”

Sunwoo’s jaw ticked. He didn’t rise to the bait immediately.

“I don’t do this to be a hero,” he said evenly. “I do it because someone has to.”

Eric shifted uncomfortably on the armrest beside Haknyeon. You could feel the tension thickening like static.

Then Younghoon laughed once—short, humorless. “No, you do it because you’re reckless. Because you think if you run headfirst into danger, it makes you brave.”

Sunwoo finally stood fully upright, his bare chest rising with slow, deliberate breaths. Skin flushed, muscles drawn tight like a bowstring. His eyes, usually warm when they flicked to you, were hard now. Focused. Controlled.

You knew that look. It was the one he wore when he was holding himself back.

“Careful,” Sunwoo said, voice still low. “You’re talking to an alpha.”

Younghoon stood too, slower, deliberate.

“You’re right.” He stepped closer to the map—closer to him. “I’m talking to an idiot alpha who never learns.”

Sunwoo’s jaw clenched.

“You think you’re saving people,” Younghoon pressed, “but you drag them into your mess. Again and again.”

A flicker of something passed through Sunwoo’s gaze—stillness. Fury held tight.

Younghoon didn’t stop.

“Look what you did,” he said. “You didn’t just get hurt. You dragged (Y/N) into this whole damn thing from the start.”

Your breath caught. “Younghoon,” you called him, but he didn’t listen.

Sunwoo moved.

Slow at first. A shift of weight. His fists tightened.

“Don’t bring her into this.”

“She’s already in it!” Younghoon shouted. “Because of you! Because you couldn’t stay away, couldn’t leave her out of your little martyr complex!”

“I will protect her!”

“And you will hurt her in the end!”

Then it exploded.

Sunwoo lunged, shoving Younghoon hard. Younghoon stumbled back, then surged forward with a snarl, fists swinging. The table crashed to the side. The map scattered to the floor.

The rest of the pack scrambled. Jacob’s voice rising. Sangyeon stood up.

“Sunwoo—!” You pushed forward before anyone else could, heart pounding.

And then—your hand found Sunwoo’s arm, pulling—

But he didn’t see.

He turned with the force of his body still mid-fight—and his elbow slammed into your shoulder.

The hit wasn’t intentional.

But the force slammed into you—sent you flying backward, hard. You crashed into the overturned table with a loud crack, the splintered edge of a broken wooden leg raking across your side as you hit the floor.

You gasped, the breath knocked clean out of your lungs.

Pain flared hot—sharp and sudden.

Then… you felt it.

Warm.

Wet.

When you looked down, blood was already blooming through your shirt, dark and fast, soaking the fabric at your ribs.

You blinked, stunned.

“(Y/N)!” Changmin’s voice cracked.

Everything stopped.

Sunwoo’s head whipped around.

You were on the floor, one hand pressed to your side, blood slipping between your fingers.

Sunwoo’s heart stopped cold.

“No…” he whispered.

You looked up—and his face was pale. Terrified.

“I didn’t mean to—(Y/N), I didn’t—”

But Younghoon had already seen red.

“You hurt her,” he growled. “You fucking hurt her—!”

He tackled Sunwoo with everything he had.

Sunwoo didn’t fight back this time as Younghoon’s fists slammed down.

Until—

“Enough!”

Sangyeon’s voice thundered through the room.

Juyeon and Jacob were already grabbing Younghoon’s arms. Hyunjae pulled him back with force, holding him in place even as he strained against them, breathing like he was still mid-fight. Chanhee rushed to your side, already pulling your hand away from the wound to check how deep it went.

Sangyeon stepped between them.

He didn’t yell again.

His voice was low. Controlled. And deadly sharp.

“This,” he said, turning his head toward the blood soaking into your shirt, “is what happens when you fight each other.”

His eyes swept the room, gaze hard as steel.

“You think being brothers means you can afford to lose control? That the rest of us will always pick up the pieces? Look at her.”

No one spoke. The only sound was your quiet, pained breathing and the rasp of Younghoon trying to swallow back his fury.

Sangyeon looked between them—first at Younghoon, then at Sunwoo.

“You both claim to protect her. But today, you were the ones who hurt her.”

He let the words settle. Heavy. Unflinching.

“I didn't stop you,” Sangyeon continued, “because sometimes pain is the only thing that cuts through pride.”

Then he turned away.

“Fix it. Or get out of my house.”

Sunwoo came to your side, breathing hard. His eyes never left you.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to,” he said again, voice shaking. “I didn’t see you—I swear—”

You saw his eyes.

Wide. Teary.

Guilty.

Terrified.

***

The world blurred at the edges as Chanhee helped you into your room, careful but firm. His hands were steady even as his mouth pressed into a tight line. He didn’t speak much, only gave instructions—“Sit. Breathe. Hold still.”—his usual calmness doing what words couldn’t.

Your shirt was soaked in blood, more dramatic than the actual wound. Still, it stung.

Sunwoo didn’t leave your side.

Hands shaking, shoulders hunched like he didn’t know what to do with his own body anymore. The rest of the pack was outside your room—pressed close, silent, their presence like a wall of unspoken tension against the wood.

Younghoon didn’t try to come in. But you felt him there.

“You’re lucky it’s not deep. It’ll heal clean.” Chanhee cleaned the cut with sterile water and alcohol. You winced. Sunwoo flinched harder than you did.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

You turned your head.

He wasn’t even looking at you anymore. His eyes were downcast, fixed on his hands like they were something foreign. His breathing was uneven. Shallow.

“I didn’t see you. I didn’t know you were that close. I—fuck—”

He dragged both hands through his hair and sank to the floor at the end of your bed, he didn’t trust himself to be closer to you yet.

Chanhee glanced at you. You gave a nod. He packed up what was left of the med kit and slipped out, leaving the door slightly ajar.

You sat up slowly, voice soft:

“Sunwoo.”

His head snapped toward you. His eyes were red and teary.

“You didn’t mean to,” you said. “I know that.”

“But I still did.” His voice cracked. “I fucking threw you across the room like you were nothing.”

He choked on the words like they tasted like poison.

“I could’ve—” He stopped himself, breath catching. “What if it had been worse?”

You reached out, gently. “But it wasn’t.”

His eyes flicked to your hand, to the faint trace of dried blood under your nails, and it was like something inside him buckled.

“I promised I’d protect you,” he whispered. “And I was the one who—”

His voice broke completely. “God, I hurt you.”

You shifted, wincing a little, but made room beside you on the bed. “Come here.”

He hesitated.

“Please,” you added.

That was all it took.

He moved like he couldn’t bear to be upright anymore—like guilt weighed more than gravity. Slowly, Sunwoo stood from where he’d been sitting slumped on the floor, his eyes never leaving you as he approached the edge of the bed.

The second he sat down, you reached for him, and without needing another word, he pulled you into his arms. You hugged him back just as tightly, arms sliding around his bare torso, his skin hot against your palms.

Sunwoo held you like he was clinging to something he thought he'd already lost.

His arms wrapped around you, careful of your bandaged side, but the tremble in his grip gave him away. His face pressed into the crook of your neck, breath warm and shaking against your skin.

“I thought I hurt you worse,” he murmured on your skin, his voice cracking. “When I turned around and saw you bleeding, I—I’ve never felt fear like that.”

Your hand slid up to the back of his neck, grounding him.

Your lips grazing the curve of his bare shoulder—soft, instinctive, meant to soothe. His skin was almost feverish, and you lingered there, not quite kissing, just letting him feel you. Letting him know you were here.

“I’m okay,” you whispered. “It’s not your fault. I was the one who stepped in between you.”

“You shouldn’t have had to,” he said. “I should’ve stopped. I should’ve seen you.”

His voice broke near the end. You felt it in the way he pulled you closer, in the silent stutter of his breath.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” he said. “I feel like I’m always one breath away from fucking everything up.”

You shifted, just enough to lean your forehead gently against his, your voice a soft anchor in the quiet:

“You didn’t fuck up. You just lost control. And now you’re here. That’s what matters.”

He exhaled shakily, his hands still clutching your back like he couldn’t quite trust this moment to stay.

The door to your room remained half open.

And just beyond it, you knew the others were still outside—quiet, tense, waiting.

Even Younghoon.

But none of that mattered right now.

All that mattered was Sunwoo holding you like he needed to feel your heartbeat against his to believe you were still here. And you, holding him back, like forgiveness was something that didn’t need to be spoken aloud.

***

The room still smelled like antiseptic and blood.

You were sitting on the bed, freshly bandaged and sore, but grounded. Sunwoo’s hand was in yours, warm and trembling slightly, your fingers loosely threaded together like they had been since he pulled you into that quiet, broken hug.

“Sunwoo,” you said softly.

His eyes met yours instantly, raw and red-rimmed, like he’d been waiting for you to say his name.

Your thumb brushed across the back of his hand, gentle.

“Can I talk to Younghoon?” you asked. “Just us.”

His body tensed, but only for a moment.

Then he gave a small nod and carefully, slowly, uncurled his fingers from yours.

He didn’t say anything—just stood up, lingering a beat longer than necessary, as if silently asking if you were sure.

You gave him a small, steady nod in return.

And then he left, leaving the door open behind him.

Younghoon stood just outside.

He didn’t say a word.

“Hey,” you said softly. “Come in.”

He finally stepped inside, closing the door behind him. For a moment, he didn’t move any closer—just stood there, eyes on the floor.

“You’re okay?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You nodded, hand resting over the gauze on your side. “Yeah. Chanhee says it’ll heal clean.”

Younghoon gave a slow nod, but he didn’t look relieved. If anything, his jaw tightened.

You offered a soft motion so he could sit.

But he stayed standing.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For what I said. For starting all of it.”

“Younghoon—"

 “Let me,” he said, quietly but firmly. “Let me say it.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut in before you could.

“I was the one in the way,” he said. “Between you and him.”

Younghoon shook his head once. “I crossed a line… and I knew I was doing it when I did. I just didn’t want to admit it.”

His voice cracked—not with volume, but with restraint.

“Sunwoo was always meant to be yours. And I was just… selfish enough to want it to be me instead.”

The words hit heavy, sinking between you like gravity.

“You weren’t in the way,” you said gently.

But he shook his head. Slowly.

“I was,” he said again, eyes meeting yours now. “I wanted something that wasn’t mine to keep. You and Sunwoo… I saw it. Hell, we all did. From the beginning.”

He finally stepped closer and sat on the edge of the chair across from your bed, elbows on his knees, head bowed slightly like he couldn’t look at you too long.

“I knew it. From the start. But I still let myself want more. Let myself believe that maybe if I stayed close enough, fought hard enough, you’d choose me.”

You stared at him. Every word hurt. And every word was honest.

“I never meant to steal you from him,” he said. “But I wanted you. Not just to protect. Not just to watch over. They weren’t just some crush or jealousy. I loved you.”

He finally looked up.

“I still do. And I would’ve done anything for a chance.”

A pause.

One heartbeat. Then another.

You spoke gently. “Younghoon…”

You leaned forward slightly, voice soft, steady despite the ache in your side.

“You’ve always been there for me,” you said. “Even when I didn’t know what I needed. You were already there.”

Silence.

“You’ve been one of the safest places in my life, Younghoon,” you continued. “And nothing will ever make me forget that.”

His jaw twitched. His gaze flicked away.

“You’ve been a constant,” you whispered. “And I’ll always be grateful for you. Always.”

You paused. Swallowed. “But...”

He didn’t move.

You continued, voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s Sunwoo. It’s always been him. Even when I didn’t understand it. Even when I tried to push it down. He’s the one I—” You swallowed again. “—he’s the one I love.”

The silence after was heavy. But it wasn’t sharp. It was soft. Heavy like mourning. Not anger.

Younghoon’s lips curved.

It wasn’t really a smile. It was something between acceptance and heartbreak.

“I figured,” he said softly. “I’ve been preparing myself for this. Telling myself it was coming. But hearing it still hurts like hell.”

His eyes dropped to the floor again.

“I guess I just hoped… if I stayed long enough, I’d matter differently.”

You didn’t interrupt.

“But I promise,” he said, more quietly now, “I won’t get in the way anymore. Not between you and him. Not again.”

You saw it in the way his shoulders relaxed—how he was letting something go, even if it was breaking him to do it.

“My feelings for you… they were real. Still are. And yeah, I was in love with you. The kind that would’ve waited forever if you asked.”

A dry, humorless breath escaped him. “But if it’s not me—if I’m not the one you want…”

He drew a breath. “Then I’ll let go. Because that’s what love is, right?”

He stood, slowly. Looked at you one last time.

“I won’t hurt over this forever. And I’ll be happy, even if it’s just watching from the outside—as long as you’re safe. As long as you’re happy.”

There were tears in your eyes.

He didn’t wipe them away.

He just nodded once.

“Don’t worry about me.”

Then he opened the door—and stepped out into the hall.

And when it closed, it left behind something whole and broken at the same time.

***

The door had barely clicked shut behind Younghoon when the ache in your chest expanded—slow, quiet, steady.

You were still sitting on the bed. Still sore, still bandaged. But now… emptied. Like something you hadn’t realized you’d been holding had finally slipped from your grasp.

And then—

The door opened again.

Sunwoo stepped in, silently.

He didn’t ask if it was okay.

He just looked at you—really looked—and the door eased shut behind him like it couldn’t bear to interrupt what was left between you.

You didn’t speak.

Neither did he.

But when he crossed the room and stopped in front of you, you knew.

His hands hovered for a second—just long enough for you to nod, to reach for him.

Then he was on the bed. Arms sliding around your waist. Face pressing into your neck. He pulled you in like gravity had nothing on him—like you were the only thing he was capable of holding now.

His breath hitched.

You wrapped your arms around him in return, fingers curling into his bare back.

“You came back,” you whispered.

“You didn’t tell me not to,” he murmured against your skin. His voice was wrecked. Rough from guilt, raw from silence.

He pulled back just enough to look at you. His thumb brushed your cheek, reverent. Careful.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked softly.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Did I?”

That landed heavier.

You didn’t answer right away.

Instead, you touched his face—gently, like you were reminding both of you he was real. There was a cut on his lip. You ran your thumb beneath it.

“You didn’t mean to,” you said.

His eyes burned. But he didn’t look away.

“I’ll never forgive myself for that,” he said. “Even if you do.”

And maybe that was why you kissed him.

Not out of desperation.

But because there were too many things you couldn’t say.

His mouth met yours like the world had narrowed to a single point: you.

The kiss was slow at first. Soft. Sunwoo kissed like he was afraid you’d vanish when he closed his eyes. His hand cradled the side of your face, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. Gentle, gentle, always gentle—until he felt you tremble.

Then something shifted.

A breath caught in your throat.

Your hand slid down his bare chest, feeling the heartbeat there—steady and fast, like he was barely holding himself back.

“Sunwoo,” you whispered, your voice shaking now for a different reason.

His lips hovered above yours.

“Yeah?”

“I want you.”

The words made him inhale sharply.

“Are you sure?” he asked. His hands were still, but his body wasn’t. You could feel the tension—tight in his thighs, in the hold of his jaw, in the tremble where his palm rested over your ribs.

“I’m sure,” you said. “Please.”

That was all he needed.

He kissed you again—hungrier now, deeper. His hands moved slower than his mouth, like he was restraining himself, checking every motion.

The kiss was not gentle. Not rough. Just real—messy and unguarded, like something inside him had snapped and this was the only way he could pull himself back together. His mouth moved over yours with desperate precision, like he’d been holding it in for too long, like he needed to memorize every shape you.

Your fingers threaded through his hair as you leaned back against the pillows, bringing him with you. He followed easily, his body half over yours, bracing himself with a hand near your ribs—still careful, even in his want.

His other hand found your jaw, holding you still as he kissed you deeper—tongue sweeping over yours, breath hot and trembling against your lips.

You broke the kiss just long enough to pull your shirt over your head, wincing as the fabric grazed your side.

Sunwoo froze. His breath caught.

You were shirtless now—just in your bra, with fresh bandages stark against your skin. For a second, his eyes didn’t move, locked somewhere between the curve of your ribs and the injury that marked them.

“Careful,” he breathed, voice low and strained, eyes flicking to the bandage. His hands slid to your waist, gentle, reverent—like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you.

“I’m fine,” you whispered. “Just… be gentle.”

His mouth softened.

“I will...”

He didn’t want to be gentle—but he would be. For you. Because you were still hurt. Still mending. And the last thing he ever wanted was to break the one he loves.

So he held himself back, every motion softer than he wanted, because you mattered more than his need.

Sunwoo kissed your jaw, then to your neck, lips brushing the skin just under your ear.

He leaned down and pressed a harder kiss to your soft shoulder. Then your collarbone. Then lower—each one slower, reverent. His breath skated over your upper breast, his body bracketing yours, never putting weight where you might hurt.

“Tell me if anything hurts,” he whispered on your skin.

“Only if you stop,” you whispered back.

Sunwoo groaned low in his throat—like he was holding back more than just desire. Like it hurt to be this close and not have all of you.

Sunwoo’s mouth was rough and desperate on your skin, sucking and biting like he couldn’t help himself, leaving a dark mark blooming on your upper breast.

His fingers splayed across your bare stomach, and you gasped at the contact—warm, firm, grounding. You felt like you were unraveling under him, every breath a plea, every shift of your hips a quiet demand.

You didn’t need fast.

You needed this. Him. Right here, right now—feeling you. Knowing you were still his. Still alive. Still choosing him.

“Let me make you feel good,” he whispered again. “Let me remind you who you’re safe with.”

“You,” you said, voice barely a sound.

His hand slid up to your bra, fingers curling over your breast with just enough pressure to make you gasp. He squeezed gently—possessive, aching—as his mouth crashed into yours again, like your lips were the only thing that could quiet the hunger clawing at him.

Your legs parted instinctively, and Sunwoo took the space without hesitation, hips grinding against yours with barely restrained force. His mouth dragged down your neck, hot and unrelenting, tongue tasting your skin before he sank his teeth in—not enough to break it, but enough to make you feel owned. He sucked hard, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he marked you.

You could feel his clothed length—already hard—grinding against you through the fabric, slow and deliberate. A breath hitched in your throat as he rocked into your clothed core, every motion a quiet ache, a plea he never voiced aloud.

Then he moved his hips with a bit more urgency, a soft, desperate groan spilling from his lips—one he buried into your throat like even the sound of it was too dangerous. Like if he let himself go too far, too fast, he might lose something he couldn’t get back.

You squirmed beneath him—until pain suddenly sparked across your side.

“Ah—”

You flinched.

Sunwoo froze. His eyes flew open, wide with alarm.

He pulled back like he’d been burned, breath shaking.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice hoarse. “Shit—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

His hand hovered just above your bandage, guilt written all over his face.

“I’m fine,” you whispered in a breathless tone, reaching for him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to stop.”

His eyes searched yours, torn. Wanting, needing, but terrified.

“I want to,” he murmured. “God, I want to. But if I keep going… I don’t think I can hold back. And if I lose control…” He trailed off, swallowing hard. “Your wound could get worse. I can't risk that.”

Before you could protest, he closed the distance and brushed a slow, tender kiss against your forehead—like a promise, unspoken but deeply felt.

His voice was warm, low. “Not yet. We’ll have our moment. Just not like this.”

He slowly pushed himself up, reluctantly creating space between your bodies. Then he reached over, picked up your shirt from the floor, and gently helped you into it—his fingers brushing your skin with reverence, not hunger now, but care.

A quiet settled between you, warm and still.

Sunwoo stayed close. He laid down beside you on the bed, one arm tucked beneath his head, the other reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered, trailing lightly along your jaw, his gaze tracing every inch of you like he was memorizing it.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

You blinked, stunned for a beat—but then warmth bloomed in your chest.

“I always have,” he added with a soft, crooked smile, voice barely above a breath. “Even when you were being all stubborn and cute and refused to listen to me.”

You let out a soft laugh. “You mean, when I didn’t let you boss me around?”

He huffed a quiet laugh too, eyes shining. “Yeah. That.”

You leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose, grinning as your hand cupped his cheek.

“I love you too, Sunwoo. More than you know. Even when you’re a dramatic mess.”

His eyes narrowed playfully. “Excuse you—this dramatic mess just stopped dry-humping you out of sheer willpower.”

You snorted, cheeks heating. “Wow. So romantic.”

“I thought so,” he murmured, “come here. Let me hold you.” He was smirking as he pulled you closer again, this time wrapping his arm gently around your waist.

You smiled into his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into the calm that only he ever seemed to bring.

And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe you were exactly where you were meant to be.

***

By the time the sun dipped below the treeline, the cabin had transformed.

Not a home now—but a den of wolves preparing for war.

Maps were spread across the dining table, marked with scent trails, motion camera zones, and perimeter traps. Bundles of gear lay sorted beside them: silver-edged daggers, vials of sage water, fire-starting kits, and tightly woven talisman charms threaded with salt and ashroot.

No one wore a shirt.

Their skin gleamed under the lamp—muscles taut, bodies coiled in that in-between state where human ends and wolf begins. Veins shimmered faintly with the echo of their second selves, like their bodies already remembered the pull of the shift.

Sangyeon stood at the head of the room, jaw set as he surveyed the map. The alphas were alert. Tense. Ready.

“This isn’t just a patrol tonight,” he said, voice low and precise. “We draw them out. We corner them. And we burn them.”

You stood just behind the others, still wrapped in bandages, but steadier now. The pain in your ribs was distant beneath the cold fire in your veins.

Sunwoo was near the door, shirtless and already half-breathing like a wolf.

“There are only nine left in the woods,” Sangyeon added, sweeping his gaze across the pack. “One of them is their sovereign—the leader. We need to kill it to stop everything.”

A beat of silence followed—sharp, electric.

“We hunt in two teams,” he added. “Juyeon, Jacob, Haknyeon, and Sunwoo take north. Younghoon, Eric, Changmin and Hyunjae go east. Move fast. Stay downwind. Shift, but do not get caught on cameras.”

Eric threw a wink over his shoulder. “No glowing wolf porn, got it.”

“Eric,” Kevin snapped.

Eric just grinned.

Sangyeon’s eyes flicked to the pack. “Remember—the Veilwalkers doesn’t hunt like a beast. They think. They study. And they don’t fear us. You don’t chase them. You corner them.”

“And when we do?” Hyunjae asked.

“You hit them with sage water. Then you burn them. If you can't burn them, you keep them pinned until backup arrives. The silver blades are last resort—we know it could kill them too.”

Kevin passed around the talisman charms. “For spiritual shielding,” he muttered. “Don’t lose them.”

“They’ll sting when you shift,” Chanhee added. “Suck it up.”

Sangyeon’s tone shifted then, and he turned to you. “(Y/N). You stay here. Inside the warded perimeter. Chanhee and Kevin are staying with you.”

Your mouth opened—an instinctive protest—but Chanhee was already looking at you like he expected it.

“Don’t start,” he said, adjusting the grip on his sage bundle. “You bled out eight hours ago.”

“But I can help. Let me be the bait—"

“You’re the heartbeat of this place right now. If something comes, we defend you. That’s the plan.” Kevin cut your words.

Chanhee said, softer now. “You’re just important.”

You looked between them—your favorite smartass and your quietly protective shadow—and swallowed the argument.

“…Okay,” you said. “But if something gets through the wards—”

“We light the fucker up,” Kevin said, lifting his sage water like a toast. “Then we make s’mores over its corpse.”

Sunwoo turned then, eyes flicking to you. The tension in his frame eased a little.

He crossed the room in a few strides, stopping just in front of you. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the wildness just beneath his skin, ready to shift. But for now—he was still yours.

“I’ll be fast,” he said quietly. “We won’t let them get near the cabin.”

You nodded, trying to be brave. “I know.”

His hands lifted to cradle your face. Thumbs brushing your cheekbones. Eyes locked on yours like they were memorizing the way you looked before battle.

“Promise me you’ll stay inside,” he said.

“Promise me you’ll come back to me—safe,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

His lips parted like he had more to say, but instead—he leaned in.

And kissed you.

Not soft. Not gentle.

His body was heat and tension, muscles coiled, barely holding back the shift already rippling under his skin.

The kiss was quiet, but it said everything he couldn’t say out loud.

You kissed him back—soft but urgent, your hand fisting into the waistband of his cargo shorts to keep him close for just a second longer.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. His breath trembled.

“If anything touches the wards,” he said, lips hovered above yours, “don’t think. Just act. You run if you need to. You live. You get it?”

“Got it,” you whispered.

“I’ll come back to you,” he whispered against your lips, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Looking hot. And all yours.” His voice softened, the teasing fading into something tender. “Always.”

Then he stepped away—eyes still on yours as he joined the others by the door.

Sangyeon gave one final glance around the room. “Once we’re past the perimeter, we shift. You all know what that means.”

“We know,” Juyeon muttered, cracking his neck.

Sunwoo lingered just a second longer—one final glance at you, one last promise in his eyes.

Then he vanished into the dark.

Moments later, the woods echoed with the crack of shifting bones and howls.

And the hunt began.

***

To Be Continued...

[letloverule1111]

FanFic Share "Challenge"--What are the last 5 fanfics you've read that you LOVE?

HI--this is my post from reddit...sharing it here because I really want to know what y'all are reading!

I'm always looking to discover wonderful fanfics and I soooooo many fics that I love have come from suggestions here! So I want to play a fun "challenge" (challenge isn't really the right word for this but we're going to use it anyway, k?)

HERE'S WHAT TO DO:

Go to your History

Starting from your most recent read scroll back and note fanfics you've LOVED...(meaning, if in your 5 most recent fics you've read you've only truly LOVED 3 of them then keep scrolling back until you have 5!)

When you have 5 of them, list them/link them here!

I'll start!!!

Just Like North by anincompletelist (soldouthaz) This is a Maze Runner au. I have personally never read or watched Maze Runner but trust me, the writing and story telling is SO GOOD that it won't matter. If you like dystopic future/badass Alex fics YOU WILL LOVE THIS!

love thorns all over this rose by theprinceandagcd  @theprinceandagcd HOLY SHIT. This fic killed me in all the best ways. The writing is amazing. It will tear your heart apart before it is put back together so if you like angst, READ THIS IMMEDIATELY. Alex thinks he's incapable of being a good boyfriend due to a past experience--together with his "not good enough" stuff this is a potent combo. So when he hooks up with Henry, he makes it clear it is just sex and friendship...of course, Alex is a tortured soul...you guys--this fic is so good and my summary is lame...just trust me--EXCELLENT.

all i wanted (was you) by ksmalltalk Author's summary: It's been nearly a decade since exes Henry and Alex have last seen or heard from each other. After one unexpected night of reuniting thanks to the meddling of their mutual friend, the pair find that neither time nor circumstance can stop their flame from rekindling. With the complications of Henry's marriage to another man and his scheduled return to London looming, the two must navigate life's difficulties as they grapple with what a possible future could mean for them. NOTE: the epilogue hasn't been posted yet but no reason to think it won't be. This is a reliable poster. AND even if the epilogue never gets posted, the story is complete and SO SO SO WORTH READING!

With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) by kiwiana  @kiwiana-writes Dare I say, one of the absolute best fics in our fandom. This is actually a re-read I did. Author's summary: Alex is a former child star struggling to make the transition into being seen as a serious actor. He jumps at an opportunity to perform on stage in the UK, seeing it as a way to break free from the typecasting and show what he can really do. But he wasn’t prepared to star alongside someone he hates. // Henry is a recent theatre graduate who accepts an amazing role in a queer reimagining of Much Ado About Nothing. And then it turns out his co-star is none other than the man he’s been hopelessly pining after for years—even though Henry made a terrible first impression when they met. // It’s… well, it’s practically Shakespearean.

Breathing In, Breathing Out by smc_27 One of the best writers in our fandom, I believe. Author's summary: He can’t believe just when he started to get the sense he actually knew what he was doing, Henry would pull this. Like, as far as Alex knows he hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s on time for dates and he calls when he says he will. He remembers what Henry likes to eat and what his favourite drink is. He doesn’t watch movies alone that he thinks will be fun to watch together. He tries not to be distracting when they’re supposed to be studying.

He’s been thinking of Henry as his boyfriend in his head for like two weeks now.

Worrying Henry’s been lying about how much he likes this - how much he likes Alex - fucking hurts.

Okay! I can't wait to see what you've been reading (that you love)!!!! Yay! Thanks for playing!

BONUS--CURRENT READ IS

Bluebonnets and Polo Mallets by Chamel. @cha-melodius. Another one of the best writers in the fandom. Fic is a WIP but WILL get posted to completion. If you ever wanted to know what would happen when Polo player, Henry, and Rodeo star, Alex, meet up...this is your fic. SO GOOD!

[chanceofwhat]

The follow-up, where Ford decides to be a scientist (and an annoying little shit). @aroace-get-out-of-my-face thank you once again for blessing us with this au.

Stan’s working on pancakes, Ford’s attempting bacon. Except, that’s not really why they’re both in the kitchen, and Ford didn’t really just want them to cook together “for fun”. No, this is about to be a test.

“Um, Stanley?”

Stan turns, then yelps when he sees the whoosh of flame from the pan on the stove.

“What the hell, Ford?! Put it out!”

“You put it out!”

Incredulous isn’t profound enough to describe the look Stan gives his brother.

“Are you kidding me? You’re the magic one!”

“You can do magic too, you’ve proven that! You’re perfectly capable of putting this out!”

“Are you seriously arguing with me while there’s a fire next to you?! Either put it out or get away from it!”

Ford looks his brother in the eyes and takes one large step back. Stan growls.

“You want it out?” Stan grabs a potholder, grabs the pan by the handle, and places it in the empty side of the sink. Now it’s on fire in a different, slightly safer location. “Fine. You got a damn fire extinguisher?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“What, you want me to pour water on it? It’s a goddamn grease fire!”

“I want you to put it out with magic, Stanley!”

When the edge of the curtain catches fire, the house promptly opens the window, sending in a gust of wind that puts out the curtain and dims the fire down to a pathetic smolder. Stan picks up the pan again and, glaring at his brother, blows it out like a candle. Ford huffs.

“Alright, Sixer; get outta the kitchen.”

Maybe, Ford decides, it needs to be more imminent, more immediate, more reflexive.

That’s his justification when his brother is sitting innocently in the armchair and Ford, entering the room sneakily from behind, hovers a book directly over his head. He drops it.

“Ow!”

Stan’s hand flies to his head as he whips around,

“What was that for?!”

Ford winces a bit, but doesn’t back down,

“I wanted to see if you’d deflect it.”

“How could I ‘deflect it’ if I didn’t even know you were doin’ it?”

“Magic, obviously.”

Stan scoffs and sits right back down in his chair, arm over his head like an umbrella.

“Asshole.” He mutters. Ford scowls and raises another one. Drops it. It bounces off of Stan’s arm.

“Ow.” Stan’s voice is much more deadpan, this time. Simply unamused.

With a frustrated sound that might as well be a snarl, Ford storms around into his brother’s line of sight and raises yet a third book into his hand,

“You’re not even trying!”

“Yea, I never said I would!”

“Well, try!”

Ford hurls the book at him. It goes wide. Stanley jumps to his feet, angry and amused,

“Ya missed.”

“I noticed!”

Another book. This time, Ford mumbles himself an incantation for guided aim. He sees and feels the spark of it working as he throws the book, this one harder than the last, aimed directly for Stan’s forehead— wait, maybe he shouldn’t have done that, that’s probably going to hurt—

In a redirection of motion that you wouldn’t notice unless you were looking for it, the book turns in the air and flies right by Stan’s head. Stan grins wide,

“Missed again.”

Ford makes a triumphant noise and points,

“Ha! You deflected it!”

“What?” Stan snorts, “No, ya just missed.”

“No, you deflected it, I saw.”

“No way, poindexter.”

“I used a spell to guide my aim, Stanley; that was going to hit you and you deflected it!”

“You used a spell and still missed?” Stan crosses his arms annoyingly, “Wow, I knew you had bad aim, but that’s impressive.”

“I didn’t miss! You deflected it!”

They argue like children for nearly an hour.

“Shit!”

Ford grabs his arm and shoves at the space around the fun new gemstone artifact he found— a ruby carved into a knickknack of a donkey. It slides a few feet away across the floor under his command. The sizzling slash on his arm starts bleeding anyways. He clamps his hand over it.

Right. Where are the healing bandages?

On his search, he passes through the living area and pauses. Stanley’s sitting on the armchair, looking up at him with a quirked eyebrow,

“Uh… you good, there, Sixer?”

An opportunity. Ford chuckles, then winces at another throb of pain from his arm,

“A magical investigation of mine hasn’t quite gone as planned.” He takes a few steps closer to Stan, who sits up as he seems to spot the blood dripping down Ford’s forearm. Stan then flinches and blinks when Ford’s arm is suddenly held out in front of him, injury brandished almost teasingly,

“Would you mind attempting some healing magic?”

Stan blinks a few more times, looking between Ford’s injury and his face like Ford’s going insane,

“Seriously? Me? Can’t you do it yourself?”

“Healing is notoriously difficult to perform on the self. Come on— if you’d like, I can find you the appropriate spell in my journal.”

Ford whips out his journal. It hovers in the air between them, flipping through pages until Ford finds the right one and turns it to face Stanley. A healing spell, complete with rune and incantation, is displayed in front of him. Stan’s nose scrunches up as he squints at it,

“Sixer, I, uh… I mean, I agree you should teach me this shit at some point, but right now? I don’t know how to do this, and you’re bleeding. Like, a lot.”

Ah, so he is. Well, that’s fine, he can stand it for another few minutes.

“Come on, Stanley— it’s not as though you’ve never performed healing magic before.” He ignores Stan’s uncomfortable grimace at the reminder, “At least try.”

“Alright, alright, fine.”

With a roll of his eyes, Stan squints at the page again,

“Fuck your rune, that never does shit for me. Uh… Cone-acker on a sandy, uh—“

“Coniuna-caro nodsanguis proplendiqum, Stanley.”

“Propane-dick? Nice.”

“Proplendiqum.” Ford seethes.

Stan rolls his eyes and, not thinking or trying half as hard on the next try, pronounces almost everything correctly. His hand hovers over the wound and creates a few gold sparkles. For a moment, the decrease in pain makes Ford think Stan’s actually done it, but no; when he looks at his arm, the wound looks pretty much the same.

“Doesn’t look like it worked.”

Ford frowns,

“It helped with the pain, at least. That’s something. Go on, try again.”

“Ford. It ain’t gonna happen. Quit wasting time and go use your magic stuff on it.”

With a defeated sigh, Ford sets his journal on the side table and turns around. If it weren’t for the concerning rate of this blood loss, he’d be much more insistent, but… he really ought to fix this.

He fetches his medical kit from a kitchen cabinet. Opens it.

Oh.

The roll of healing bandages is all but empty. The a tattered strip left could heal, at best, a bad paper cut.

How had he managed to forget that?

He grabs the roll of regular bandages and returns to Stan somewhat sheepishly, not quite thinking straight anymore— yep, he’s getting a bit lightheaded now. It doesn’t help that he’s been performing magical investigations all afternoon.

“Got your magic healing stuff now?” Stan asks without looking.

“We’re out of healing bandages.”

Ford’s voice is so blunt, so deadpan that Stan’s head whips towards him on a swivel,

“What, seriously? Buddy, that’s gonna need stitches, then.”

Ford scowls and rolls his eyes,

“Absolutely not. No, I just need to stop the bleeding—“

“You mean like stitches do?”

Stan’s interruption is bored and unamused and Ford doesn’t even pause,

“—or at least slow it down enough that I can heal it myself. Unless you’d like to try again?”

Stan rises out of the armchair and practically drags his brother into it, seeing the man’s face get pale and watching his weight wobble back and forth unsteadily,

“Not really. I thought you said healing yourself is too hard?”

“It’s extremely difficult and inefficient, but possible, and I really just need to heal it enough that I won’t bleed out.”

“Well, tell me when and I’ll bandage it up.” Stan sighs, pulling the second, far less comfortable chair nearer so he can fret over his brother properly. “Or I can stitch it, if ya want; that’ll hurt like hell, though.”

Ford huffs laughter,

“No thanks.”

He looks at the journal, draws the rune in the air over his injured arm,

…and immediately gets tunnel vision so bad he almost passes out. He releases the rune with a deep gasp for air, and Stan tenses his grip on the arm of the chair,

“You okay?”

“Fine, just…” Deep breath. “If you’re not willing to try healing again, go get my glucose tablets from the kitchen. This will take more magical energy than I have available to me at the moment.”

Stan mutters and grumbles and Ford closes his eyes to focus on breathing. He’s so focused he doesn’t even hear Stan get up.

Or, he doesn’t hear it because Stan doesn’t get up. With some very dissatisfied grumbling, Stan grabs Ford’s arm and twists the journal to face him.

“Coniunacaro nodsanguis proplendiqum.“

Ford pries his eyes open just in time to see the golden glow around his arm, Stan’s eyes screwed shut with focus, one hand with a firm grip just below the injury and the other hovering over it. Ford watches the skin knit itself back together— not completely, not perfectly, but more than enough. More than he would’ve been able to do for himself right now, even with his glucose tablets.

When Stan’s eyes open again to look over the semi-healed wound, he humphs with what sounds like amusement, then looks at the roll of regular bandages and rises from his seat,

“Ya didn’t even grab disinfectant, dipshit.”

Ford’s too impressed, confused, and lightheaded to comment the entire time that Stan’s cleaning and bandaging his arm. He eventually passes out watching something meaningless on the TV. He doesn’t even remember to say “thank you.”

Based off of this short by @someoddwritings for @aroace-get-out-of-my-face ‘s Safety Alarm AU

(Basically, magic user Ford dies and Stan goes nope and resurrects him.) (read their thing first though it’s really good and makes this read better)

“So,” Ford eventually has to ask, “how did you do it?”

Stan blinks at him from the armchair. It’s late, he’s still tired from the incident, and he was expecting they’d go to bed soon. Instead, now Ford’s talking, and his tone sounds like he’s trying too hard to keep it light.

“Do what?” is the first thing Stan’s brain offers, because how could he possibly know something Ford doesn’t know?

“Don’t be obtuse, Stanley.” Ford rolls his eyes, “How did you resurrect me? Did you memorize a spell beforehand? Did you even use an incantation?”

Oh, this. Of course. Stan shrugs,

“Nah. Actually, I’ve got no idea what happened there. I just sorta… focused. I’m thinkin’ it was probably easier because you do so much magic stuff, so I figure you had a bunch of magic in you already or something.”

Ford furrows his brow,

“That’s not really how that works, Stanley.”

“Well, clearly it is, ‘cause you’re here.”

“Yes. I’m here. Because you brought me back to life.”

Stan makes a dismissive “eh” sound and shrugs again. Ford fully does a double take,

“‘Eh’?! What do you mean ‘eh’?! You resurrected me! It took you less than a minute! I was dead, Stanley—“

Stan winces at the word,

“Can we stop talkin’ about that? I don’t wanna think about it anymore.”

“No,” Ford feels himself get louder as he grows increasingly agitated, “I need you to understand the magnitude of what you accomplished! You performed a true resurrection in under a minute without—“

“Shut up!”

Ford’s loud confusion quiets as Stan begins to shout,

“I know you were dead, so stop fucking saying it! I saw your head cracked in half, I saw your ribs crushed into little bits, I saw your heart smushed flat, I KNOW. And I’m not lookin’ forward to sleepin’ tonight because I’ve been seein’ it all again every time I close my eyes. I’m probably gonna have nightmares about that forever, and I’ve got no fucking idea how I fixed it!”

Stan slumps further into the plush chair, looking miserable,

“I don’t know how I fixed it, and I don’t know if I could ever do anything like that again. I barely even remember doing it. I just know I saw you and… you couldn’t be dead. It was wrong. I remember thinking it just had to be fixed and you couldn’t exactly do it so I had to fix it and my hands felt funny and I got all dizzy and then you were back, so I was done, and that was that.”

Ford looks at his face exhausted brother sympathetically. He gets it— he still thinks too often about the state he found Stanley in originally, tied up and dying of heatstroke in the trunk of his own car. He remembers the magic he performed to bring his dying brother to him, the surge of energy that his determination brought; that’s something he knows about magic, it feeds on passion and intensity, it works better the more you want it.

Yet, some selfish part of Ford can’t stop thinking about how much work it was for him. The locator spell, the teleportation— both with incantations and specific methods that called upon his expertise— finding his brother within the car, cooling him down, not having enough magic left to bring him into the house with anything but his tired muscles, and that’s not even considering the safety alarm itself—

And Stanley hadn’t even been dead.

It took time after all that for Stanley to recover, and Stanley hadn’t even been dead. Ford died today, and all he has to show for it is a twinge in his back and his legs from how he was awkwardly forced to the ground when the boulder landed on his upper half. When he awoke 36 seconds after his own death, he didn’t even have a headache.

He wants to tell his brother how impressed he is, how incredible such a controlled, intent-based display of magic is. He wants to shout and throw something because how could anyone perform something as complex as a true resurrection without the proper use of spells or incantations, it’s a flippant dismissal, even an offense, to everything he thinks he knows about magic.

Between the incredibly loud, emotionally intense warring sides in Ford’s head, his voice comes out calm and gentle,

“I can prevent nightmares, if that would help.”

Stan looks at him. Ford offers a small, tired smile,

“I know a spell that induces dreamless sleep. I’ve used it on myself before. I can use it on you, if you’d like.”

Stan nods, a small movement.

“That would be nice.”

Ford nods in return.

“Let’s go to bed, then. I think we’ve both had enough excitement for one day.”

When they walk down the hall to what Ford expects to be the guest room only to find Ford’s own room, extended a few extra feet with an extra bed in it, Ford can’t bring himself to argue. Especially not with how grateful Stan looks.

He all but tucks Stan in, using what little magic he has available this evening to ensure him a dreamless sleep and help him drift into it. When Stan conks out, he brushes a strand of hair out of the peaceful, sleeping face before putting himself to bed as well.

When he wakes up only an hour later, plagued by images of Stan’s death that he’s not sure he’d be able to heal the same way, he gives himself a dreamless sleep as well.

[midnightquips]

That Old Feeling

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: It's been years since you've seen Bucky Barnes. You didn't plan to see him, but he definitely didn't look surprised to see you. Something's different, though. The looks. The heat. Maybe it's always been there. Maybe... you've just been too blind to see it before.

Themes: AU Thunderbolts, teasing officemates, possessive Bucky, friend's ex, Thunderbolts chaos (a consistent theme), friends-to-lovers, college crush so pining

🔴 MINORS DNI 🔴 Warnings: 18+ content, eventual smut, dirty talk, praise kink, soft aftercare, pwp, piv sex, unprotected sex

💫 That Old Feeling Masterlist 📌 Sign Up for TAGLIST

Chapter 2

Part I – Not Like That

You wake up with your legs tangled in sheets and your brain foggy with heat. For a split second, you can’t remember why your thighs ache, why your lips feel swollen, or why your chest is tight like someone’s still pressing you to a door.

And then you remember — Bucky.

His mouth. His hands. The whispers, “You feel so good,” right before he slipped his fingers beneath the hem of your dress.

You sit up with a strangled noise, cheeks on fire.

“Fuck.”

You bury your face in your hands, groaning into your palms like it might smother the memory. But it doesn’t. It plays on loop. The breathy moans you swore weren’t yours, the quiet grunt in his throat when his hand slid up your thigh, the way he looked at you like you were some kind of answer to a question he’d asked a long time ago.

What the hell were you doing?

You hadn’t even liked him in college. He was Claire’s annoying fling, boyfriend, whatever. The one who left beard trimmings in the sink and hogged the shower after gym days. You bickered constantly. It was practically your love language. And now you’re… what? Soft for him? Flustered?

No. You need a reset. Coffee. Distance.

You grab your phone. A single message waits for you.

Bucky Barnes: Had fun last night. Hope I didn’t cross a line.

You stare at the screen, then start typing.

You: It was fine. Just tequila and nostalgia. Let’s not make it weird.

You delete it. You try again:

We were just caught in a moment. We’re good.

Delete. You groan in frustration. 

Eventually, you just leave it on read and toss your phone to the other side of the bed like it burned you. Coward.

Yelena calls before your first cup of coffee is even ready. You stare at the screen and consider ignoring it. She FaceTimes anyway because you know she knows you can’t be ignoring her like that. You only answer because you don’t want her showing up at your apartment.

Her face appears immediately, smug and glowing. “So…?”

“So what?” One of your eyebrows raised

She cocks her head. “Don’t play coy. Did you or did you not make out with the man that’s been eye-fucking you the whole night?”

You scoff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bitch.”

You sip your coffee nonchalantly. “Nothing happened.”

“Then why can’t you look at me?”

Your eye twitches. “You’re insane.”

She shrugs. “You’re glowing. Your tits are smug.”

“They can’t be smug.”

“They can, and they are.”

You sigh in surrender. “It was just a kiss.”

“Just a kiss?”

“Yelena—” You regret too late.

“Oh my God, was he good?”

“Goodbye.” You hang up before she starts demanding positions and detailed analysis.

You ride to work with Bob that morning because your car is blocked in again and your downstairs neighbor hates you. Bob doesn’t ask questions at first. He hums along to an old Avril Lavigne song and chews gum like it owes him money.

But as soon as he parks outside the office, he turns off the ignition and goes, “So. Did Bucky pin you against the door last night or what?”

You make a choking sound so loud he slaps your back like you’re dying.

“BOB. What the hell—”

“Yelena told me to ask.” He shrugs as if it’s enough of an explanation.

You are all under this woman’s control apparently.

“I’m going to kill her.” You muttered.

“She says you made out. Like, aggressively.”

You bury your face in your hands again. “I don’t know where she got those adjectives. I told her it was just a kiss.”

“Okay, but like, regular kiss or ‘should I have worn better underwear’ kiss?”

You shake your head and throw the car door open.

“Not answering that.”

“You’re blushing! Oh my God, he did—”

You slam the door shut before he finishes the sentence.

You make it exactly thirty-five steps into the office kitchen before you crash into Bucky. Literally. You round the corner, balancing your travel mug and a banana, and collide with a broad, too-warm chest that smells like cedarwood and sin. Your banana falls to the floor in slow motion.

“Oh,” he says, blinking down at you. “Hey.”

You try to breathe like a normal person but seemingly fail.

“Hi,” you say. Your voice cracks. You clear your throat. “Morning.”

He looks unsure for a moment then smiles, softly. “Didn’t think I’d see you this early.”

“I work here.”

He chuckles. “Right.”

You bend down to grab the banana and will your face not to combust. When you rise, he’s still watching you like you’re the best part of his day. It almost infuriates you. Almost.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you mutter.

“Like what?” He smiles confidently

“Like you’re remembering what my moan sounds like.”

He coughs. Loudly. His neck turns red.

“Can’t help it,” he says under his breath. “It’s a really good sound.”

You blink and stare at him. Your stomach clenches. You push past him, straight into the hallway.

You spend the next four hours deep in spreadsheets and pretending that Bucky Barnes doesn’t exist.

It almost works. Until Yelena IMs you at 2:34 p.m.

Yelena: sooooooo Yelena: u turn on? Yelena: u mad? Yelena: u in love?

You roll your eyes and block her for now. But you’re starting to consider you might need a new job. Or a new country. 

Or maybe what you really need is just another kiss, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke. You shake your head to get rid of the idea because it’s exactly why you can’t let yourself have it.

Taglist: @enchantingwitchballoon @emilyswortwellen @tellybearryyyy @kiatjuddae @Luannastylinsonlupin @OtterlyCanadian @winchestert101 @bxtchboy69 @biggestfangirl @luannastylinsonlupin @Sebastians-love @fveapplestall @snhoe @ruexj283 @avengersfan25 @in-omn1a-paratus @avengemepercy

[cupcakewebkinz]

Pillow Fight

ᰔᩚ Vee starts a wholesome little pillow fight with Shelly because she's a menace like that lmao (its really short I'm sorry I just needed fluff rn bros) ᰔᩚ

ʚ Caretaker Shanon au is mine!! ɞ

♡ @crayons-are-yummyy + @soupiestzilla + @stormflypirateskin pspspspspsing you all right now cmere read my short fic lol ♡

────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────

It was a cozy, rainy night, and the two had just gotten changed into their pajamas. Shelly was sat on her bed, adjusting her pillows, yawning sleepily as she did so. Vee was on her own bed, watching quietly, kicking her legs as she grabbed a pillow.

"Not cuddling tonight?"

"It's summer, Vee, you always kick me off the bed when we cuddle in the summer because you get too hot and I actually want to sleep tonight." Shelly pointed out groggily, yawning as she stretched, not caring if Vee saw her stomach show from under her tank top. Vee smiled at the vulnerable moment, and she soon threw the pillow she had in her hands right at Shelly, making her go "oof" as she froze mid stretch.

"Vee. What the fuck?"

"Lol-"

"Did you seriously just text speech out loud?" Shelly questioned, throwing the pillow right back at Vee, watching as it bounced off her screen and onto her lap. Vee immediately picked it back up.

"Lmao"

"VEE STOP-" Shelly wheezed before she cracked and started hysterically laughing, catching the pillow in mid air whilst laughing. Vee snorted before bursting out laughing herself, getting up to grab her pillow back, but Shelly just slapped her with it.

"Get back fiend! You threw it at me twice, it's mine now!" Shelly teased, making Vee gasp.

"You fool!! This calls for war!!" Vee stated, turning around, though Shelly just smacked her on the top of the head with a second pillow.

"Fight me, fool." Shelly stated, giggling like a giddy little kid after she left the pillow on the robot's head. Vee just grinned and pulled it off, nodding once.

"You're so on."

The two immediately were slapping each other with their pillows, squealing and laughing as they slapped each other around. At one point, Vee had climbed onto Shelly's bed, the two switching between smacking each other with pillows and hugging and cuddling with each other. They were laughing at everything, squealing every single time they got hit, both flinching despite never being hurt. It lasted for hours. It ended with Vee finally giving in, defeatedly flopping into Shelly's stuffed animal pile, fake low battery warning on her screen.

"Oh no! I'm running low on battery! Oh shoot, you win!" Vee very dramatically stated, then displayed a fake dead face, x-eyes and tongue out and everything. Shelly just burst out laughing at her, sitting beside her, then she yawned as she slowly laid down against her.

"I... I win... I love you..." Shelly sleepily stated, laughed once more, then promptly passed the fuck out against Vee's chest. She was drained, and Vee knew it, as she changed her display back to normal and wrapped her arms around the passed out fossil.

"Goodnight sweet little Cinnabun, I love you so much." Vee whispered, then she gave her a kiss on the head. The rest of the night the two just cuddled right there, Vee purring as she gave her passed out fossil all the love in her soul. She loved her wife, and absolutely loved teasing her wife, and she wouldn't have changed a thing about that night.

Except for how absolutely hot it was, but she somehow lived without throwing Shelly off and yelling about being too hot lol

[weeping-treee]

A Desperate Man- Part 14

Simon loves you. So goddamn much

All parts here

2,403 words

(Pictures aren't mine. Gotta love Pinterest.)

(And this is basically an AU that I made up. Still set in, and a little before MW 2019, so eat up bitches<3)

“We still gotta go shoppin’, love,” he murmurs against your hair.

You chuckle, rubbing his back softly. “Whatever you say, Lieutenant.”

He huffs. “I’ll deal with that attitude later. C’mon, go get dressed.” He pulls away and turns you toward the bedroom.

You roll your eyes and start walking, but before you disappear around the corner, you throw one last thing over your shoulder—just to make his breath catch.

“You should move in. Just sayin’.”

He stops dead in his tracks, staring at the spot where he last saw you—like you’d just said the most beautifully absurd thing in the world. His legs move before his brain does, following after you without hesitation.

And when he reaches your bedroom, you’re half-dressed, slipping on one of his shirts like you own it.

Like you own him.

Which—let’s face it—you do.

He stands there, stunned. Speechless. Like maybe he didn’t hear you right. Until the words tumble out in a single, breathless rush:

“What did you just say?”

“I said, you should move in,” you repeat, more casual now. “You’re basically living here anyway. Maybe I don’t want it to end when you go back to work.”

You finish buttoning your jeans and glance up at him. The dumbfounded look on his face makes you chuckle.

“Is it too fast? Do you not want to? I just thought it’d be better than those old beds on base—”

“No.” His voice is soft. Immediate. “It’s just unexpected, is all.”

He steps closer, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“Do you want that? Me to move in?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around him. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want it, Si.”

"Guess I'm movin' in then." He kisses your head, but you squeeze him so hard it steals his breath.

"Jesus, small but fuckin' mighty." He chuckles.

"C'mon then. Shopping time." You release and head out of the room with a new light about you.

He shakes his head and follows after you, rubbing his ribs from your tiny arms.

The drive to the markets is comfortable and quiet. Simon fills the silence with questions about your dad and small squeezes to your thigh as he drives.

"What should we make him for dinner?" He glances at you for a second before focusing back on the road.

"He likes steak. Typical man. Happy with whatever is hot and edible. Like you."

He laughs. "You sayin' I'm easy to please?"

"In certain aspects of life. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. So you're doing good thinking about how to please my dad with dinner."

He hums, squeezing your thigh once more.

"I don't have a grill though." You murmur, pulling out your phone to look for one.

"I've got it. Don't you worry sweetheart." He pats your thigh before parking.

You reach into the glove compartment and pull out a black surgical mask, handing it to him. "Here."

He smiles softly at how much you know him before securing it on his face.

You both walk to and through markets, buying small things and necessities for dinner tomorrow, and groceries for the week. You pout every time Simon insists on paying. Your final straw is the £285 wood pellet grill you had picked out.

"Simon, you've spent enough. Let me at least pay for something."

He doesn't even respond. Just chuckles and takes the bags you're holding from you AND wheels the buggy holding the grill box out of the market.

You hate it. You hate how he's being such a goddamn man. How his forearms flex beneath the weight of the grocery bags. Jesus Christ, you're done for. No more independent woman here. Just an utterly ruined girlfriend.

While he packs the car up you point out a store you wanna go to, alone. He says no at first—not wanting you to go by yourself, but you lie and say it’s some girly store and tell him to wait in the car. Which isn’t a complete lie—it’s a jewelry store, for fuck’s sake.

You stride in with one thing on your mind. Ownership. Whether its of you or of him. Something.

You browse before your eyes land on the necklaces. There are the name ones, but your eyes land on the initials. Knowing Simon would like to keep your name out of things if a situation would arise that needed anonymity.

You pick out two silver chains,—one with an "S" on it for you, and another with your initial on it for him. It's subtle, yet that's the best part. He's all about practicality with low visibility. He could put your initial right on the chain with his dog tags, and you'd always be right next to his heart. You obviously buy them both immediately.

You get the little bag to carry them in and walk to the car as if nothing happened.

"What's in the bag, love?"

"A surprise for when we're home."

He raises a brow but doesn't question it, just puts the car in drive and drives home. His home. Your home.

He brings all the groceries in, and insists on building the grill alone. Which gives you the perfect chance to take the little initial charm and slide it onto his dog tag chain. It rests perfectly right over the tags. Small. Subtle. But meaningful nonetheless. You put yours on and wait for him to notice.

Which does take hours, since he's out on the back patio, cussing out the instructions for being so damn stupid. You call him in for dinner, telling him to take a break.

He enters the kitchen and hugs you from behind. He sighs and you feel the stress drain from him as he holds you.

"Hungry?" You ask, rubbing his hand on your abdomen.

"Fuckin' starving, love." He kisses your head before plopping down in his spot at the table.

You bring him a plate and set it down, taking his hand and putting his chain in it. His brows furrow as he looks at his dog tags. "What's this about?" He starts before you see the realization when he turns them over. "You didn't..."

A pause.

Then he huffs a quiet, disbelieving laugh—one of those rare ones, the kind that barely escapes his chest but hits you like a sledgehammer.

“You’re serious?”

Your smile falters for a second. “You don’t like it?”

Simon blinks. “Don’t like it?” he repeats, like the words offend him.

Then he’s up—just like that—pushing his chair back with a scrape, grabbing your hand, and tugging you gently but firmly into his space.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. One hand slides to the back of your neck. The other curls protectively around your side, like he’s shielding something fragile.

His forehead drops to yours.

“I fuckin’ love it, sweetheart.”

You barely have time to breathe before he kisses you.

It’s not hungry. Not rushed. Just firm and slow and steady—like he’s pouring everything he doesn’t know how to say into that single moment.

When he finally pulls back, he rests his hand over the chain at your chest.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs. “Everyone’ll know.”

“You’ve always been mine,” you whisper back. “This just makes it obvious.”

He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your head before releasing you. “We better eat before we get all fuckin’ sentimental.”

You shake your head as you grab your plate and sit beside him. Dinner is filled with quiet conversation and casual touches—his knee brushing yours under the table, fingers grazing your wrist in passing—until the food is gone.

You stand, collecting the plates.

“I’ll wash up and come help you outside in a minute, okay?”

He nods, but doesn’t move.

Both of you freeze at the sudden knock at the door.

You glance at him. He glances at you.

You’re the first to move, padding toward the entry with Simon following behind, shoulders tense.

You open the door—and his heart drops while yours leaps out of your chest.

Your Dad.

MacMillan.

“Dad!” you exclaim, throwing your arms around him.

He hugs you back with a chuckle.

You huff softly. “You’re early! You weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow.”

“Thought I’d surprise you,” he replies, ruffling your hair. “Figured I’d catch him off guard. Make sure he’s treatin’ my little girl right.”

He locks eyes with Simon.

“Dad, of course he is. But I had things planned! We were gonna make dinner, I haven’t even baked anything yet—”

“Enough of that. It’s just me. Don’t need dinner or dessert. A cold one and a sit-down with this one’ll do just fine.”

You let him in, feeling Simon practically vibrating beside you with restrained nerves.

“Simon Riley,” your dad says, appraising him with a veteran’s stare. “The Ghost. I’ve heard great things.”

“Thank you, sir. Pleasure to meet you.” Simon offers his hand, firm and steady despite the storm inside.

Your father takes it without hesitation—a quick, tight handshake with weight behind it.

Then you break the tension, practically herding them like a sheepdog.

“Alright—c’mon. Beers. Couch. Let’s go.”

You set the beers down on the coffee table—one for you, one for your dad, and one for Simon, who still hasn’t sat down.

MacMillan takes his with a nod, easing into the chair near the couch like it’s a briefing room chair. The man has presence, even when relaxed—calm, controlled, observant.

Simon finally lowers himself onto the far end of the couch next to you, careful, composed. His posture straight, back rigid. Like he’s about to be debriefed after a mission gone sideways.

You perch between them, leaning forward to pop the cap off your own bottle. But Simon, grabs it first and does it for you, handing it to you before opening his own.

Silence stretches.

MacMillan studies Simon over the rim of his beer. “So,” he says finally, voice low and dry, “you’re the one.”

Simon doesn’t flinch. “I suppose I am.”

“And what exactly are your intentions with my daughter?”

You turn, shooting your dad a look. “Really? That’s the opening?”

He ignores you. Never looks away from Simon.

Simon doesn’t blink. “To be worthy of her. To be worthy of a future with her. Every day I’m lucky enough to be around.”

That makes MacMillan’s brow rise—just a fraction. But the corner of his mouth twitches, too. Approval? Maybe.

“You know what she does when you’re not around?” he asks, cracking his neck as he leans back. “She talks about you. Tells me stories. Some funny. Some painful.”

Simon swallows but nods. “I know.”

“And you? You talk about her to anyone?” MacMillan asks pointedly.

Simon hesitates. “No, sir.”

Your dad gives a short nod. “Smart man.”

You look between them like you’re watching a fencing match. Neither giving ground. And somehow, it’s thrilling.

MacMillan sips his beer again, eyes still fixed on Simon. “I’ve trained a lot of men. Lost a lot of them, too. But you—I’ve heard your name for years. Hell, Laswell called you a stubborn bastard. Price called you a bloody miracle.”

Simon doesn’t respond. He’s listening. Processing.

“But none of that means shit,�� your dad continues, “if you hurt her.”

You sigh, "Jesus, Dad—"

Simon straightens his shoulders, jaw tight. “Would rather die than do that.”

Your father stares at him. Long. Hard.

Then he leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees, and holds out his hand again.

“Well then. Glad we understand each other.”

Simon grips it without hesitation. Firm. Respectful.

When they finally release, the room breathes again.

You lean back on the couch, heart pounding.

“Well,” you say, “that went better than I thought.”

MacMillan grunts. “It’s not over yet. I’m staying the weekend.”

Simon exhales—slow and sharp. You see the panic hit him like a wave.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath, and you can’t help but laugh.

"You must be hungry. Let me go heat dinner back up for you," you say, giving Simon’s hand a quick squeeze before heading into the kitchen.

The moment you’re out of sight, the room quiets again—just the soft hum of the fridge and the distant clatter of you pulling dishes from the cabinets.

Simon doesn’t shift in his seat.

MacMillan doesn’t speak right away.

Just sips his beer. Slow. Deliberate.

Then: “You love her?”

Simon’s answer is immediate. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” MacMillan says, setting his bottle down on a coaster. “She’s not easy to love. She’s stubborn. Got her mother’s spine.”

Simon smirks faintly. “I’ve noticed.”

“Means you’ll have to be twice as steady,” he adds, eyes cutting toward Simon. “Because if you make her doubt herself—she’ll run before you even know you’ve lost her.”

Simon’s throat bobs with the swallow. “She’s already got me anchored, sir. Has from the start.”

MacMillan hums at that. Leans back, folding his arms.

“I’ve had soldiers under me break under less. But you—” he eyes Simon up and down, as if trying to read his soul, “—you don’t seem the type to run.”

“I’ve got nowhere else I’d rather be,” Simon says quietly.

The older man gives a slow nod. “Then we really understand each other.”

Another quiet stretch. Then MacMillan leans in just slightly, like he’s offering a rare gift.

“She laughs more around you. Talks faster. Sleeps better, I think.”

Simon blinks, caught off guard.

MacMillan doesn’t let it show, but his voice softens, just a touch. “So whatever it is you’re doing... keep doing it.”

Before Simon can respond, your voice floats in from the kitchen.

“Hope you two aren’t trying to out-intimidate each other in there.”

MacMillan chuckles under his breath, just once. “Not yet.”

Simon exhales a quiet breath of relief.

Not full approval, yet—but respect.

And from a man like MacMillan? That might be even better.

Simon’s still lost in that thought when MacMillan speaks again—calm, direct.

“You thinkin’ about proposing?”

Simon blinks. Stares. “I haven’t... not thought about it.”

MacMillan shifts in his seat. Reaches into his coat pocket. Pulls out a small velvet box and holds it out.

“That was her mother’s,” he says simply. “She’s always wanted it. Was waiting for her to find a man good enough to give it to her. So when you’re ready—you have my approval.”

Simon forgets how to breathe.

His eyes drop to the box. His hands move slow, careful as he takes it. The weight of it sinks into his palm like a stone.

“Thank you… sir.”

Taglist🏷️: @tysukier @hypertail @tessakate @givemeangstorgivemedeath @jess-cyt @junitries @lelouchwests-blog @annwe23 @wheezytomato @skylyn-vais @simonexxx1

[papis13]

when love meets loss…

Summary: auston matthews thought he had time to prepare for this moment — but life had other plans. Now, everything changes with one heartbeat, and he’s left holding the future in his arms…In one moment, life as he knew it slipped through his fingers. in the next, he discovers the weight of love, loss, and everything in between…

warnings: summary: birth complications, death in childbirth, grief & loss, single parenthood, emotional themes of coping after loss

authors note: this is my first fic and there is more to it so let me know if you want it!! i do not like this writing format lol please comment or make an anonymous comment telling me what you want to see and i will 🤍

listen to brave by riley pearce for better effects

-

The arena lights blurred through the pain. Auston was in the middle of the third period, skating fast, focusing on the puck but now all he could think about was the call he’d gotten earlier.

His wife… his love… was in the hospital. Complications. sirens. shes okay…shes fine

His heart hammered in his chest as the game ended, and without hesitation, he left the rink, pushing through the crowd, desperate to be by her side.

The hospital room was quiet except for the steady beep of machines. She lay there, pale and fragile, struggling to breathe.

“aus” she whispered, eyes fluttering open, “I’m scared.”

He took her hand gently, voice steady though his mind was racing. “Hey, my love, it’s going to be okay. I’m right here.” auston holding her hand, whispering words of love and hope.

But inside, panic clawed at him.

He had to be strong…for her.

The doctors came in, faces serious, explaining that the baby needed to be delivered immediately or both could be in danger and he had to go

Suddenly, Auston’s mind flooded with memories—

The day he found out she was pregnant. The look on her face, the nervous smile as she said, “We’re going to be parents.” His heart had exploded with joy, and he’d promised her the world.

“im gonna be a daddy” he whispered to her with tears falling down his face “you are baby” she said

The weekends they spent shopping for tiny clothes, the soft blankets, the little booties she insisted on buying.

she’s going to be okay

The night they told their families, the laughter, the happy tears, the way she leaned into him, whispering, “We’re going to be okay.”

A quiet afternoon just weeks ago, where they’d sat on the porch swing, her head on his shoulder, dreaming about the future and their plans.

Now, the future was slipping away.

And then they took her away, and Auston had been left waiting.

she’s okay. she’s going to be okay

A lifetime passed in those few minutes.

Finally, the doors swung open, and a doctor approached, eyes heavy with something Auston didn’t want to understand.

“how is she…my wife. y/n” he looked around the doctor trying to pass him to get to his girl “is she okay?”.

“Mr. Matthews…” the doctor started, voice gentle, practiced, but Auston already felt his stomach drop.

The doctor continued, “We did everything we could… the baby, your daughter—she’s here, she’s healthy… but your wife… y/n didn’t—”

“no.”

It came out fast, sharp, automatic. His hands flew up as if physically stopping the words from reaching him.

“No… no, that’s not… that’s not possible,” Auston’s voice cracked, his chest heaving. “She… she was just talking to me.”

shes fine. shes okay. just take me to her…

The doctor’s expression didn’t change—sympathetic but unwavering. “I’m so sorry—”

“Stop,” Auston’s voice broke, his body shaking. “You… you’re wrong okay you dont know my wife alright you dont know my y/-“ his words cut off at your name shaking his head “just take me to her. she’s strong. She always pulls through. shes okay.”

His vision blurred, his heart pounding like it might explode from his chest.

The world narrowed to ringing ears and the cold, tiled floor under his feet.

“We couldn’t stop the bleeding…” the doctor tried to explain, but Auston wasn’t hearing it.

Tears burned his eyes, his hands gripping his hair. “She… she promised me,” he whispered, voice barely holding together. “We were supposed to do this together.”

“Your daughter is safe,” the doctor added, softer now. “But I’m… I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

Auston stumbled back against the wall, sliding down until he was seated, his body collapsing under the weight of it all.

It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.

The love of his life… gone.

He buried his face in his hands, sobs wracking his chest as the world continued spinning around him unforgiving, unchanged, while his had just shattered.

Then the moment settled.

His wife didn’t make it.

The person he loved most in the world was gone.

-

The room fell silent but for the sound of his breaking heart.

In the quiet aftermath, the nurses placed a tiny pink bundle in his arms—a beautiful baby girl, perfect despite the pain.

He had a daughter. He was a father.

Auston’s breath caught. Tears spilled freely down his face as he looked at his daughter her tiny fingers curled around his.

Later, a doctor approached, voice gentle but kind.

“What would you like to name her?”

Auston choked on a sob, but the name came easily.

“Leighton. Her mom really liked that name.”

The doctor nodded, eyes full of sympathy. “I’m so sorry for your loss… congratulations on your daughter.”

The doctor didn’t even realize the man standing in front of him—the one he’d just handed this tiny, perfect baby to—had no idea he was holding his daughter for the first time.

The doctor didnt know that she was 2 weeks early. He didnt know that auston stayed up till 4am putting her crib together. He didnt know that austons wife dreamed of being a mom since she was a little girl. He had no idea that auston dreamed of seeing his wife be a mother. He didnt know auston dreamed of being a father til he met y/n. He didnt know any of that…

Auston and y/n had planned to wait, to find out together when their baby arrived—one of the few surprises they allowed themselves in this chaotic, unpredictable life.

But fate, cruel and unforgiving, had stolen that moment from them.

Now, as Auston stared down at the delicate bundle in his arms, the word daughter echoed through the fog of grief for the very first time.

And the one person he was supposed to share it with was gone.

Auston looked down at Leighton y/n Matthews’ delicate little face, his world shattered and remade all at once.

“youre so beautiful” he whispered, voice breaking he looked at his little girl then looked up waiting for an answer “What am I going to do…”

But even in the pain, his heart held on to one thing—his baby girl, his loves legacy, his reason to keep fighting.

[sillygoofyqueer]

the deity jester WWX au might not be your most popular au but know I am on the edge of my seat waiting for wangxian to finally meet <333

*Sniffle sniffle* that's right, I'm writing the deity jester Wei Wuxian AU solely for you now, you see it you care you are everything. HOWEVER, it's unfortunate to say that we still have like a post or two to get to wangxian meeting....so.....uh...DEITY JESTER WEI WUXIAN AU POST DEDICATED TO YOU!!! It's surprising that it hurts to tear himself free from the roots - whether it's due to being tethered to his body for the first time in some...time period, or it's due to ripping himself away from the nature he is so naturally drawn to - but it does. Every breath burns, his black blood seeps out of rips in his flesh and stains the already stained white sections of his clothes, and the bones beneath the meat of his body ache and grate together in a way that he didn't think was possible. He drags himself out from beneath the ground, allowing the sound of the small human wailing to guide him fully, dirt clinging to his hair and skin and stuck beneath his cracked nails, even dropping out of his mouth and nose when he angles his head down to see the state of himself. Small humans are weak and scared of everything, but the tiny humans had always liked him before they had been killed! He moves in the direction of the wailing, which hasn't stopped, and then almost immediately drops to the floor.

Ah. Human bodies are weak. It has surely been a while since he moved. Other humans always complained about aches and stiffness after not moving for a while, so Wei Ying can only assume that this sudden inability to move well is because of being trapped beneath a tree for some amount of time! However, the wailing is still echoing through the forested area he finds himself in, so he starts methodically dragging himself across the floor by his nails, letting all of his bones crack and shift into their proper positions until he can figure out how to walk again. The bells hanging from his outfit, that had once made such pretty tinkling and jingling noises, are now tinny and dull with metal mould (he didn't know metal rotted!) that flakes off as they're scraped across the floor. By the time the wailing is close by, he's sort of crawling instead of walking, his long hair (it's gotten longer! Humans are so complicated) catching beneath his knees and tangling with the leaves and sticks that litter the floor, so that is an improvement.

He still feels the weight of his mask upon his face, and that's surely good as well because tiny humans smile when they see others smiling, and Master always said it was the closest he could get to such an action. He peeks from around the tree he's found himself bumping around after bunching his hair into his hands to keep it out of the way, coming face to face with a tiny human huddled in the roots of the very same tree. This small creature has a splotchy red face and a tiny hand balled against one of its big brown eyes, hiccupping breaths escaping it instead of the normal small ones that should be leaving its lungs. It stares back at him, hair sticking to its cheeks from the water that sometimes leaks from humans' eyes. Wei Ying raises a hand, wiggling his fingers (yes, they are bleeding and skin is hanging off them) and letting the bells around his wrist jingle in hopes to gain a smile or any sort of reaction from this small human.

The small human continues to stare for a moment, and a strange uncomfortable feeling rises in Wei Ying's chest, a chance of his actions making the situation worse, but then a tiny hand wraps around one of his fingers and whispers 'owchie.' He doesn't get what it's trying to say until he looks at his other hand and notices all of the blood dripping down his palms from the tips of his fingers. Oh. That is an owchie. He nods his head slightly (a snap in his neck echoing through the forest as he does so), watching as the small human pulls his captive hand closer, pressing it against its knee, where he feels more wetness - red blood. It seems that the small human also has an owchie, which could be the source of its distress earlier. He nods once more, pressing his free hand into the ground and once again digs his fingers into the dirt that shifts easily beneath his touch, whispering into the nature that sings around him until a very faint, gentle tugging in his chest pairs with a plant sprouting up from the ground.

He picks the leaves from it and crushes them casually, letting his blood mix in with it for an extra healing factor before holding out the gunk in his hand for the small human. Said creature, who has been watching with interest, hiccupping breaths fading to the typical ones found within these animals, leans forwards and prods at the gunk a little. Only after careful examination does it offer up the injury upon its knee, allowing him to liberally smear the gunk over the minor wound so it can heal faster. Once again, the human just watches him do his thing while he works, until he sits back on his knees and stares right back at the human through his mask; despite how he hopes the creature would react, it looks...disgruntled. It still has a hold of one of his hands, and scoops off some of the gunk he has just applied to its injury to...smear it across his fingers?? Oh. Oh! It thinks that he has an owchie because of the blood and the skin hanging from his fingers. It's trying to help him!

Wei Ying gently extracts his hand from its very weak grasp to rub the gunk properly into his hands for the benefit of the small human, wiggling his fingers after he's finished to show that he's 'feeling a lot better'. Now, he doesn't actually feel better because he didn't feel bad in the first place, but he learned a while ago that tiny humans need exaggerated performances to be appeased when it comes to these things, so he really makes a show out of it. The small human, of course, is appeased by it, smiling up at him so widely that it must hurt even with the teary eyes it still possesses. "A-Yuan!!" The call echoes out through the forest, startling nearby small animals and sending birds flittering from the branches of the trees, as well as breaking the peace between the two of them. The tiny human looks up at the call, blinking as though recognising it before struggling to get to its feet, one hand already reaching out to grasp for Wei Ying's hand. All he can really do is let himself be dragged along by the small human as it wanders towards the sound, not wanting it to get further lost in the forest.

[212thghost]

U.K. RESEARCH STATION: MAGNUS

some of my thoughts regarding this au, mostly what role each character would take!! spoilers for The Thing (1982) … but this will probably make the most sense if you’ve seen the film.

details under the cut.

for all intents and purposes, this au would follow a relatively similar bare-bones plot as the movie: a research station discovers an alien that kills and perfectly mimics other living things. the group dissolves due to paranoia and distrust as one by one they begin to die. the process of the alien taking your body is called “assimilation.”

when Research Station Magnus is seemingly attacked by a neighboring outpost’s helicopter pilot in pursuit of a sled dog, biologists Jon and Gertrude head over to investigate. the group takes in the dog. at the neighboring outpost, Jon and Gertrude discover a mutated, partially burnt, alien corpse. they bring it back to Magnus for further research. but the corpse isn’t dead and that isn’t a dog.

ROLES:

•jon → biologist. ultimately takes control of the situation though he probably shouldn’t have. he quickly dissolves into severe paranoia when the Thing’s mimicking nature is revealed. he absolutely trusts no one else—any of them could be the Thing. all he can be sure of is that he is himself (right?) and they have to defeat the Thing before it can reach civilization. he makes it his goal to find out who the Thing is. he eventually gets the gun from elias.

•elias → station manager. he quickly becomes distrustful. he plants the first seeds of paranoia within the group. ultimately, he is killed and assimilated with the Thing fairly early on but this goes unnoticed for a long period of time. after assimilation, he compromises the lab and spreads the Thing to others. the OG!elias is dead for most of the story. elias is armed with a pistol.

•gertrude → head biologist. discovers the true nature of the Thing. to prevent the Thing from reaching civilization, she makes the drastic but necessary decision to cut the station off. she destroys the helicopter and all the radios. she attempts to find some way to prevent further assimilation, but she is killed early into the investigation by assimilated!elias and her notes are destroyed. this leaves the others scrambling to piece together her work.

•basira → medic, biologist training. basira worked closely with jon and gertrude. after gertrude turns up dead, she’s determined to find a way to prevent further spread, even as jon is steadily losing hope. she disposes of a lot of the bodies and discovers the blood testing method. she’s suspicious of everyone but is able to keep a level head about it. she’s wary of others being near her, though, and is willing to make sacrifices to prevent future spread.

•martin → cook. tries to keep everyone relatively calm but secretly is losing trust in all the others. he tries to make himself seem as trustworthy and cooperative as possible to prevent any accusations. so far, it seems to be working. after a certain point, he elects to lock himself in his cabin. surely, he’ll be safe if he’s alone, right?

•sasha → meteorologist. in true tma fashion, sasha is one of the first to be killed and assimilated—even before the Thing’s nature is discovered. we can have a classic “that’s not sasha !!!” moment. her death is not discovered for a while and is a heavy hit to the group. distrust is heightened after seeing how well the thing mimicked her.

•tim → helicopter pilot. after people start turning up dead, he tries to get the fuck out of there, only to find the helicopter destroyed. he quickly turns on the rest of the group and, unfortunately, focuses most of the blame on jon. not a great team player, which only makes jon more suspicious of him and him more angry at jon. tim also takes to torching a lot of the bodies.

•daisy → dog handler. daisy was the one that looked after the sled dogs and is, therefore, the one who spent the most time around the assimilated!dog. the others are immediately distrustful of her, despite the fact she is not assimilated. daisy is ultimately the one who steps up when it comes to killing the assimilated and is very distrustful, but trying to be a team player for the overall good of the group. she’s not optimistic about the chances of the station’s survival but is willing to make the decisions the others cant to protect herself and civilization. daisy has the only other gun.

•melanie → radio operator. the first to discover that sasha has been assimilated. melanie wants to be able to trust the others but her faith in them is quickly dwindling. she’s not dying in the ice and she’s sure as hell not merging with that Thing. she becomes very suspicious very quickly, tolerating the others at best and aggressive at worst. she’s currently trying to rig up a radio to call for help, but gertrude was very thorough in her destruction.

•michael shelley → mechanic. the very first to die. gertrude left him alone with the specimen. she couldn’t have known, yet, right? she just said to watch for any changes in the corpse while she stepped out, whatever that means. his assimilation is not complete when they find him. michael is dead, yes, but the Thing is a writhing mass of flesh that is slowly beginning to form his face. did gertrude feed him to the thing to prove her hypothesis?

survivors: ?

HEAR ME OUT………. the magnus archives x the thing (1982) au

[belovedroach]

they make me (sea)sick /silly

one thing y'all should know about me is that i love pirates and their bisexual aura. And another thing you should know is that if given the chance I will make a pirate AU one way or another-

For those who don't know, this is based on Our Flag Means Death !! If you hadn't watched it go watch it now !!! It's great !!! I miss them so much!!!!!!!!!!

[lovesickeros]

now that natlan is out it's tsaritsa yearning hours again because i am one nation closer to either being horribly disappointed or foaming at the mouth!

creator!reader w a little side of conflicted tsaritsa is such good food I can't not yap about it. a woman who has dedicated so much of her life to severing herself from "love" of all kinds and succeeding and. just being so confident that when she meets you she's bitter and angry and mean. because she can't stand you. she isn't supposed to love yet you worm your way into her heart anyway and you don't even know it.

especially in smth like an imposter au. she tells herself your just a tool for her to use but your treated like the Divine you really are, pampered and spoiled every step. tells herself it means nothing when she indulges you – let's you hold her hand in private, eventually let's you move aside the veil, just a little.

and she hates it. hates how easy it is to let you break down the ice she's built up for years.

all you do is smile and she feels like she can't breathe. because despite how violently she rejects love in all aspects, it always bleeds through eventually. she despises it but the way you brush your thumbs over her cheeks makes her bitter and warm and it infuriates her to no end.

she hates you and she loves you and she can't stand you and if you were ever taken from her she'd destroy every inch of teyvat if she had to go get you back.

and ironically enough I think she'd also be the one to initiate any first kiss. maybe she's still trying to convince herself it's just a fluke and itll make her realize it meant nothing, it means nothing. desperate to fix whatever you've done to her and instead it just makes it worse.

a horrible mess of a woman who gave up on love just to be confronted with it when she finally accepted it's absence.

[morninkim]

As a show of good faith toward the remaining Decepticons at the beginning of a new, united Cybertron, newly appointed Senators Bumblebee and Soundwave allowed Shatter and Dropkick to enlist into Autobot City's Defense Team.

These two turned out to be... not the best choices.

The city may have fallen to Insurgent Decepticon occupation had it not been for young recruits Hot Rod and Arcee's accidental interception of Shatter's communication with the fugitive Starscream.

To replace the errant Defense Team members, Springer and Blurr were reassigned from Iacon to Autobot City in their stead.

[victorluvsalice]

Valicer In The Dark -- Meet Lord Nathaniel Rowan

Hello everyone -- today, I would like to introduce you to someone who has accidentally become important to my Valicer In The Dark verse: Lord Nathaniel Rowan! Now, I've mentioned this dude's name a couple of times in previous posts -- most notably my first in-depth post on scores and story ideas for the verse -- but as he's become an occasionally-recurring antagonist for my trio as I come up with more scores for them to pull and things for them to do in my version of Duskwall, I figured we might as well have a proper post telling you all about his deal. So here we go --

-->Lord Rowan technically comes straight from the Blades In The Dark book itself -- there's a couple of mentions of the family name in the text in various places. The most significant one, and one that grabbed my attention first and made me realize that I should include him as a character in the Valicer In The Dark series, is in the write-up for the Six Towers district near the end of the book. Not only is Rowan House mentioned as being one of only two of the original six towers still standing (the other being Bowmore House), Rowan House gets its own entry as a landmark in the district (page 276):

Rowan House. One of the last of the original six towers, this antique building resembles an ancient castle from history books, complete with moat, draw-bridge, and arrow-slit windows. The powerful Rowan family rules their holdings from within the fortress, rarely venturing beyond the security of its thick stone walls.

AKA, Rowan House is the "giant bloody castle" Alice mentions as making her think they'd gone the wrong way when the gang first entered Six Towers in Chapter 6 of "Start At The Beginning...Sort Of." XD Given that Six Towers's whole deal is that it's a formerly-fashionable district that fell into poverty and ruin once all the rich families left, leaving their homes to either rot abandoned or be converted into cheap tenement housing, I was rather intrigued by the fact that Rowan House was explicitly said to still be occupied by an actual lord (Scurlock Manor, in the same area, may have a tenant, but it's not Lord Scurlock himself, just some "nephew or cousin" who may not even have a proper title, and Bowmore House is only mentioned as being still standing, so...). I figured there must be a reason for the family to still be living there --

-->Cue me hitting upon the idea of making Lord Rowan the literal landlord of all of Six Towers! Somebody has to be in charge of all the apartments there, after all! Basically, once all the other lords in the area started abandoning Six Towers for the more fashionable Brightstone, the Rowan family sensed an opportunity and snapped up as many estates as they could get their hands on. They then converted these estates into cheap apartments and lured in as many of the poorest in the city as they could. The family has thus controlled pretty much all the real estate in the district ever since, with Nathaniel being the latest to take over the day-to-day duties.

-->As for other members of the family -- in the "Factions" section of the book, there is a mention of an "Elder Rowan" who is a leader in the Church Of The Ecstasy Of The Flesh (the "state religion," which venerates a healthy body and abhors the spirit; the higher-ups are secretly trying to find ways to turn themselves into soulless demons, who they consider to be the ideal life forms), and a member of the family also explicitly sits on the City Council (the group of elites who essentially run the government, along with the Lord Governor -- the other councilors include members of the Bowmore, Clelland, Dunvil, Penderyn, and Strangford families). As the City Council entry mentions that all the members are also high-ranking adepts in the Church Of The Ecstasy Of The Flesh, I'm thinking of making both Rowans the same guy -- Lord Gregorious Rowan, Nathaniel's father, who has given up his landlord duties to pursue ascension into demonhood all the faster and find a way to take down Lord Strangford, who he doesn't trust as far as he can throw him. I'm also thinking of giving Nathaniel an older brother, Graham, who fulfills the traditional "heir to the lineage" noble duty of captaining a leviathan ship (as being the source of the leviathan blood that helps power everything in the city is one of the major ways all the noble families keep their power). Neither of them would be anywhere near as important as Nathaniel to my stories, but it's good to know where the guy came from and where he sits in the family line.

-->As for Nathaniel himself -- well, dude's an asshole. XD Much like his father before him, Nathaniel does not care that his kingdom is one of rot and ruin, with crumbling roads, broken streetlamps, and hauntings everywhere. All that matters to him is that it is his kingdom, and the people there must do as he says. Accordingly, his apartments charge the most he can get away with, while providing only the barest minimum necessary to keep people alive. A lot of his buildings don't even have heat or working lights, and the porters he hires to watch the doors are little more than thugs, more concerned with shaking down the tenants for cash than actually helping them in any way. The residents of Six Towers are as a result a pretty hopeless lot, just doing their best to survive day to day. A lot of them would love to rebel against Nathaniel and his tyranny, but know there's no way they could successfully storm that fortress he calls a home, so they just carry on, relying on the charity from the Arms Of The Weeping Lady soup kitchen on the edge of the district and the Advocate bunk house set up right next to it to keep themselves going...

-->And then the Three Pillars show up on the scene. Nathaniel initially completely ignores them -- in fact, he doesn't even know they live in Six Towers, given they move into the one house he has no idea exists in the district, thanks to Elder Gutknecht's wards -- but then he hears tell that there's a trio of strangers fixing up one of the old conservatories into a public greenhouse, and that they intend to give away the food produced there for free. "Welp, that won't do," Nathaniel says to himself, and waits until they've pretty much finished the place before arriving on the scene and politely informing them that he owns this land, so the greenhouse is his, thanks. Though if they really want to use it, they could pay him rent -- say, ten Coin per month? (Which, for reference, is an ASTRONOMICAL amount to charge for rent -- it's more than your average small business is expected to take in in a month, and Duskwall months are twice as long as ours!) He expects this trio of losers to fold immediately --

But then Smiler points out that ten Coin would be enough to just buy the property and asks if it's for sale. And Nathaniel, amused and secure in his knowledge that his house is impenetrable, says no -- but if the trio can steal the deed out of the safe in his bedroom, he will let them have it, no strings attached. Smiler is like "I want that in writing," which Nathaniel is fine with, and they go to Barrister Alley in Charterhall University and have a contract drawn up, notarized by an Inspector. Nathaniel encourages the trio to try to get the deed before the week is out, and goes home content to wait until they get caught creeping around and have to give him the property --

Only for them to utterly humiliate him by successfully sneaking in and stealing the deed. I am picturing him spotting them escaping at the last minute, with Smiler cheekily telling him "thanks for the greenhouse!" Nathaniel, as you might imagine, is furious, but the Inspector insists he has to honor the agreement, causing him to start plotting revenge...

-->And from that moment on, the Three Pillars and Nathaniel are enemies! I haven't planned out many more specific clashes, but I know that the group humiliates him a second time by stealing a Dragon's Bane fruit he rented to show off at a party (for Chef Roselle, who needs one for a new dish -- I promise I will explain this further in an upcoming post), and when they team up with a group of Sparkwrights to test an alternative fuel source they're working on by getting the streetlights back on in Six Towers, he's one of the obstacles they have to overcome. (He might also be somehow involved when Dr. Kelman starts trying to track them down to "correct" them, but I haven't fully decided on that yet.) Nathaniel eventually gets so pissed off by their presence in Six Towers that he puts a bounty on their heads -- but by that point, not only are the trio able to fight off potential assassins (including most of the other gang bosses in the city at a certain infamous party hosted by Bazso Baz of the Lampblacks), they're so beloved by the citizens of Six Towers for all the help they've given the neighborhood that said citizens are more than willing to fight for them. Remember what happened to the potential assassin in the fourth entry in this Not-Incorrect Valicer Quotes collection for the verse? Yeah, it gets to the point where assassins hear what the job is and just go "sorry, no, I'm not about to get beat up by all of Six Towers, thanks." XD Leaving Nathaniel to fume impotently as his district slips further and further out of his grasp. I'm not entirely sure what the endgame for their rivalry is yet, but I very much doubt Nathaniel is going to come out on top.

-->And finally, since this guy has the potential to become a very important character in this verse, I figured I ought to know exactly what he looks like -- so I made him in Sims 4! So here are some pictures so you know what he looks like too:

Lord Nathaniel Rowan’s headshot! The haircut is from Get Together – I tried a couple of others, but this is the one that I felt worked the best with his face. Had a little trouble selecting his eye color, but I’m fairly satisfied with the gray-blue I settled on. And I couldn't resist giving him terrible muttonchops when I found the option under facial hair. Era-appropriate, admittedly, since the world of Duskwall is supposed to have Victorian vibes, but still terrible. XD

The full body shot! The suit is a Get Together “sack suit” that I found on accident a while back, while messing around with formal wear options for Victor, Alice, and Smiler. As I didn’t have my CC in the game at the time I created this initial version of him (not long after the Life & Death patch), this was as close to an era-appropriate outfit as I could find for him that didn’t look just a tiny bit TOO fancy, like most of the Vampires suits (ended up choosing one of those for formalwear instead). He is wearing Vampires shoes, though (the black ones with white spats), and that double-ring designed by arathabee for Crystal Creations (since he’s supposed to be a lord, I figured maybe that was fancy family jewelry passed down through the lineage).

And finally, a shot of him looking dastardly, since he is supposed to be an asshole. XD Accordingly, I gave the Sim version of him the Aspiration of Mansion Baron (to reflect the fact that he lives in a freaking castle), and the traits Evil, Hot-Headed, and Materialistic (since he's a nasty bastard with a bad temper who likes the finer things in life). As for his Preferences, he Likes the color orange, compliments, malicious interactions, gossip, deception, polished fashion, egotistical Sims, argumentative Sims, Baroque music, and research and debate, and he Dislikes the color pink, pranks, potty humor, silly behavior, complaints, rocker fashion, funny Sims, spirited Sims, Pop music, and singing. Which, as you might guess, means he hates Smiler in particular among the three. XD Rather fun designing such a douchebag of a man – and now I have a face to go with the name in my imagination, so that’s good too. :)

And there we have it! So now you know who Lord Nathaniel Rowan is and why my trio will be having such trouble with him in the future. Always important to know your enemies as well as your friends! I hope you look forward to seeing him pop up in the verse as much as I am now. :p