#Destiny: House of Wolves

[wonderwafles]

The ending of Revenant is a weird thing to talk about as someone who's loved the Eliksni since I started playing Destiny in 2014, there for the first mention of the Kell of Kells and here to finally see the title bestowed. It's *really* weird to say that, after all that, I sort of really really hate how it ends

Revenant feels like the culmination of a trend in Bungie's writing that's been percolating since Splicer, which I snidely call the "uwuification of the Eliksni" or more helpfully might just be called a "flattening." What I always found most interesting about the Eliksni was the merge of the tragedy of their lost homeworld combined with the desperate, inexcusable violence they inflicted on humanity. Their most prominent characters were deeply complicated people, from Variks who allied with us only to eventually unleash the Scorn, to Eramis, who wanted to create a new home for her people but got lost in vengeance and hate. They were Fallen, but they could rise.

Splicer is the beginning of doing away with this in favor of the Eliksni being primarily victims of humanity. The unease the human residents felt towards the House of Light wasn't due to, say, generational memories of Eliksni invading and burning almost all of human civilization to the ground, or first hand memories of Twilight Gap when they almost succeeded in doing that to the Last City, but rather... knee-jerk racism. Lakshmi, as the figurehead of that movement, was purely villainized despite it being revealed that she was there when the Eliksni first arrived and saw the horrors they inflicted, and ultimately she isn't even given the dignity of her own motivations — instead, she's been corrupted by Savathûn.

Eramis turns from a dangerous ideologue who is destroying her own people in pursuit of vengeance to a justifiably aggrieved revolutionary, calling humanity out on their "oppression" of her House of invaders, pirates, and colonizers. No human is allowed to point out that she came from Riis to kill them. No House Salvation member is even allowed to be angry with her for unleashing the Vex onto them. It's hard not to conclude that the game completely forgot who she was in pursuit of forcing her into this new role.

It'd be one thing if this new story was better than the old one, but frankly, I really don't think so. Eramis and Variks both have their complexities filed away to nothing, and the motivations of the Eliksni as a whole become nonsensical. The House of Light's opportunity to be both a House of refugees and representatives of an invading race justly feared by the Last City is gone. Misraaks and Eido's roles as mediators between humans and Eliksni don't really matter because there's nothing to mediate; humans are bad and Eliksni are good. There's a lot of talk about the two species putting aside their differences to build a better future... but what differences? What differences specifically? Space racism was ended when Savathûn's magic went away, and obviously a long war of annihilation is really the fault of the people defending themselves from annihilation.

Eramis getting the Echo was sort of the culmination of all of this; she hasn't learned anything or changed since she opened the Vex portals on Europa, or even since she invaded Earth in the first place. But the new lore is that she doesn't need to; she was always in the right. How tiresome. How boring. How anticlimactic.

[wastedpotentialsblog]

No one had your Swagger

No one had your Sauce

No one had your Style

No ones been able to top you

Many have tried.

You will always be the best to me.

Sidenote: Wolf High Servitors absolutely fuck design wise

Servitor? Dope.

Servitor but spiky and BLUE?!? Icon.

[wastedpotentialsblog]

You'd be correct! Makes sense she takes inspiration from her old house in the design of her new one as well

I know a few of you already know this, but I love rediscovering things in destiny. First this:

And also this one.....

And then I realized....!!!

BUT WAIT THERE"S MORE!!!! If we look at the "broken crown" but flip it.... And then place it next to a captain's helmet...

TELL ME THIS IS NOT WHAT THE WRITER OF THAT LORE TAB MEANT She was a captain "the shipstealer", a baron also, I believe. But even they wear this type of helmet... and that coupled with the lore tab... I want to believe this is connected. I want to believe that the helmets are reminiscent of something from Riis. I mean, obviously they are to some extent, but that... I don't know... Because only the military survived the whirlwind, so warrior helmets became the new "crowns" of the eliksni people. Kells wore their battle gear for so long that the only crown they knew was that of a military helmet. God I want to know more about RIis. I want it so bad I can taste it.

[telestoapologist]

AHFHGSDG SKOLAS'S THEME GOES SO HARD 💞💞💞 makes me think i'm listening to a pack of wolves mobilizing together to hunt their prey (something big and challenging), working together as a team to pick out the best target, weakening it, then taking it down for the kill.

[auspicioustidings]

You have such a strong memory of it that you always argued growing up that it wasn't a daydream or play pretend, it really did happen. As an adult you laugh about it, say you had such an imagination, but deep down? You still think that on that snowy day in winter you met a wolf in the forest.

She was huge and growled at you, but she also looked so hungry. You ran back to the house and bundled up as much food as you could in your chubby arms to take back to her. You took your favourite blankey, the one you cuddled up with every night.

She ate the food. Sniffed at the blanket, gave a huff when you babbled about how she must be cold. And then another wolf came bounding out and it would have tackled you had she not taken it down. This wolf was smaller, maybe younger? But he took your blanket with him when they left and you never saw it or them again.

Over active imagination, wild wolves weren't even a thing where you grew up and even if they were they didn't hang around in tiny little woods.

Soap never did forget the little girl that fed his mama when she was starving when he was just a pup. He still has the blanket even though her scent is long buried under his. He's not sure how he is supposed to react when that little girl is a not so little woman sitting at the bar he has just walked into... his pack has been looking for a good woman to take care of them, so who is he to ignore what is obviously destiny?

[r0ugesun]

running with the wolves

Beta read by my wife @moonstruksandco ( ˘ ³˘)˘ᵋ ˘ )♥

Synopsis: Cregan Stark, the formidable Lord of Winterfell, eagerly awaits the arrival of his new betrothed, y/n, who has bewitched him since childhood. As winter sets in, he hopes to transform their arranged marriage into a union of love. However, y/n arrives with her own doubts, unsure if she can return his deep affection. Will their marriage blossom into love, or remain a cold duty? Cregan is determined to show her that their bond can be more than just an obligation on their wedding night.

Warnings: 18+ slow burn, smut, arranged marriage, loss of virginity, p in v sex (unprotected), breeding kink, rough sex, oral sex(both f/m receiving) missionary, mating press, doggy style lots of cum (I think all stark men cum bucket loads)

8k+ words likes and reblogs are highly appreciated ෆ/⟳ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

(Authors note: omg hayy I don’t know that much about Yorkshire accents aside from ackley bridge so I’m sorry in advanced if it’s not right :>)

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The wind howled through the ancient halls of Winterfell, carrying with it the biting chill of the northern winter. Cregan Stark, the Warden of the North, stood by the great hearth in the main hall, his keen grey eyes fixed on the entrance. The time had come for the arrival of his new betrothed, y/n, the most beautiful amongst house Tyrell.

From the moment he first saw her, Cregan had been captivated. Even as a young lad, her grace and elegance had set her apart. Now, as a grown woman, she was even more bewitching, and Cregan's heart swelled with a mix of anticipation and determination. He was resolved to turn their arranged marriage into a union of love.

As Cregan stood by the hearth, he watched the window, the snowflakes drifting lazily to the ground, a distant memory surfaced, warm and vivid against the icy present. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be transported back to a time when he was just a young lad of twelve, visiting Highgarden with his family.

He remembered the journey vividly, how different the South had seemed compared to the North. The air was warmer, the colors more vibrant. He had wandered through the lush gardens, marveling at the flowers and plants that couldn’t survive the harsh winters of Winterfell. It was in those gardens that he first saw her.

Y/n had been around his age, a vision of beauty even then. She sat on a stone bench, engrossed in a book, her expression serene and detached. Her hair, shining in the sunlight, cascaded down her shoulders, and her delicate features were framed by the backdrop of blooming flowers. She seemed almost like a fairytale princess, so enchanting that he could scarcely believe she was real.

Without even realizing it his feet began to move on their own, he was like a moth being drawn to the flame that was her. As he approached her, His heart pounded in his chest, an unfamiliar but exhilarating feeling. She glanced up briefly from her book as he neared, her eyes meeting his for just a moment before returning to her reading.

“H-Hello” he said, trying to muster as much confidence as he could. “What are yeh reading?”

She responded without looking up this time, her voice calm and distant. “Hmm a collection of poems” she replied. “Do you like poetry?”

Cregan, caught off guard, nodded. “Aye. Though I don’t read much of it.”

She patted the space beside her, still not lifting her gaze from the pages. “You can sit if you want.”

He sat down slowly, feeling a strange sense of destiny in that moment. She continued to read aloud, her voice weaving the words into a tapestry of emotion and beauty. He listened, captivated not by the poetry but by her otherworldliness her grace, and the way she brought the words to life. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, completely in star struck, while she remained indifferent, too engrossed in her book to notice his adoration.

That was the last time they spoke just a few exchange of words. The rest of his visit to Highgarden was spent with his father and training with Y/N’s brothers and learning the ways of a lord, much to his chagrin. But whenever he could, he would steal glances at her from a window while she read in the garden, and across from her at dinner, for which his mother often scolded him.

"Cregan, it's impolite to stare" his mother whispered sharply during dinner one evening, nudging his foot under the table.

He tore his eyes away from y/n, his cheeks burning and crimson red. "I weren’t starin’, Mother.”

“Yeh most certainly were” she replied, her tone firm. “It’s not appropriate. Focus on yer meal.”

“But she’s… she’s so…”

“Enchantin’?” his mother finished for him, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Aye, she is. But yeh must remember yer manners, lad. Staring is unbecoming of a young lord.”

Cregan sighed, casting one last, fleeting glance at y/n, who was still in her own little world not casting a single glance his way. “Aye, mother….”

Despite his mother’s admonitions, his fascination with Y/N only grew, even as she remained blissfully unaware of his admiration.

Cregan opened his eyes, the memory fading as the cold reality of Winterfell settled back in. He sighed, turning away from the window. Some things, he mused, never truly changed.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

In the dimly lit carriage, y/n huddled under the blankets, trying to stave off the biting cold that seemed to seep through the very fabric of her clothes. Her mother sat beside her, wrapped in her own covers and trying to offer some semblance of warmth and comfort. The carriage jolted over the rough, snow covered road, and every bump made her shiver more.

Her brothers, true to their duty, were outside braving the harsh northern winter with their horses, though y/n could scarcely imagine how they managed. She, however, had the luxury of being confined to the carriage, a prisoner of her own anxieties and fears.

The stories she’d heard about Cregan Stark haunted her thoughts. The gruff warden of the north with a claymore sword so heavy it was said to be the size of a small man. To her, the very idea of marrying such a man was nightmarish. She couldn't remember much about him from his family’s previous visit to Highgarden all those years ago, but the tales of his fierceness and the imposing aura of the North made her dread the moment she would finally meet him.

The carriage seemed to creak with the weight of her mother's discontent. Her mother’s complaints, murmured under her breath but audible enough for y/n to hear, were laced with disdain. “I cannot believe we’ve had to send our only daughter off to marry a Stark”

“Their way of life, covered in stinking animal pelts, living amongst brutes who value strength over grace. It’s hardly the life for a Tyrell.” She said with disgust.

Her father’s stern gaze flicked towards her mother, his patience evidently wearing thin. "We’ve discussed this, Eliza. The match is made, and it’s for the good of House Tyrell. Stop lamenting what cannot be undone."

To him, this marriage was merely a strategic move, a means to secure more power for Highgarden. His daughter's feelings were of no consequence, his focus was solely on the political gain.

“Do you have to be so callous?” her mother’s voice broke through the gloom. “She is our daughter.”

Her father’s gaze remained unyielding. “The alliance with the Starks is necessary for the gain of our house. Y/n is to be a dutiful wife to a powerful lord it’s what she was raised for, if she does her duty right she’ll bear him many children further securing our power”

As her father’s harsh words continued to echo in her ears, y/n’s anger flared. She straightened up, glaring at him . “If you wanted to gift Cregan a broodmare, you should’ve gotten him one of the whores you visit in the brothels” she spat out, her voice trembling with defiance.

mother’s gasp of shock was barely audible over the creaking of the carriage. Her father’s eyes were wild, a hot fury flashing in them. Before y/n could react, his hand shot out, delivering a hard, stinging slap across her face. The sharp force of it made her head snap to the side, and she recoiled, stunned by the sudden violence.

“How dare you!” her father’s voice roared with anger.

y/n’s mother was frozen, her hand going to her mouth in shock. She looked at her husband with a mixture of horror and helplessness. “Henry, please—”

“Be silent!” he snapped, cutting her off. “I will not tolerate such insolence!“

He turned his icy gaze back to y/n, his face a mask of unrelenting severity. “You are about to become the wife of a powerful man. you are fortunate that I secured this arrangement, otherwise you would just end up being Cregans whore in some brothel anyway.”

Y/n’s heart sank as she heard the finality in his cruel words. She knew better than to argue with him—his decisions were made with an iron will that left no room for dissent.

as the carriage continued its slow journey through the snow, y/n's thoughts were plagued with anxiety and uncertainty. The grandeur of Winterfell loomed ahead, and with it, the reality of her new life as Cregan Stark’s bride. She could only hope that, amidst the cold and the gruffness of her new home, she might find a way to endure this new chapter of her life.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

As Cregan stood by the hearth, still lost in his own thoughts, the door swung open with a crash and his friends burst in, laughter and shouts echoing through the great hall.

“Cregan, ye dog! Heard the news, did we!” Jorah boomed, striding up to him and clapping him on the back with such force it nearly sent him stumbling forward.

“Aye, lad, congratulations!” Gendry called out, raising his tankard high. “A Tyrell, no less! Must’ve done somethin’ right to be landin’ a lass like that.”

Cregan, smiling, shook his head as he tried to make sense of the sudden uproar. “Cheers, lads. Bit early for a celebratory drink, ain’t it?”

Bram, always one for a jest, stepped forward with a grin. “Well, Cregan, we heard she’s real beauty, fairest in all the Seven Kingdoms. Quite the catch for a dog like you. Ain’t right, really, a face like hers and a face like yours.”

Cregan raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips. “Oh, is that so? And what about ye lot, then? All of ye been lookin’ in the mirror lately?”

The room erupted in laughter, and Bram waved a dismissive hand. “Aye, we might be a rough lot, but at least we ain’t got to worry ‘bout our faces bein’ compared to a rose.”

Robb, always quick with a quip, leaned in with a wink. “Might be true she’ll forget all ‘bout yer ugly mug once she gets a look at what’s really under yer tunic. you’ve got more to offer than just yer sorry looks.”

Cregan’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he laughed along, trying to maintain his composure. “Ah, so ye’re sayin’ it’s all in the size of me… character, is it?”

“Aye, that’s right!” Robb said with a grin. “Best thing about ye, Cregan, is that even if your face don’t make the cut, yer other qualities surely will.”

Cregan shook his head, laughing despite himself. “Well, if it’s me ‘other qualities’ that’ll win her over, then I reckon I’d best be makin’ sure she gets a good look at all of ‘em.”

Jorah slapped him on the back again, nearly sending him reeling. “Look at ye, all flustered! Never thought I’d see the day. Don’t worry, lad. What lass wouldn’t want a strong Northman?”

“Aye, just keep it down a bit, or you’ll have me blushing so hard I’ll be usin’ me face as a lantern” Cregan said, his grin widening.

The friends continued their banter, the atmosphere warm with camaraderie and laughter. As they raised their mugs in a final toast, Cregan felt a renewed sense of anticipation and affection for the future, no matter the teasing jabs from his mates.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The room was alive with laughter and chatter as Cregan and his friends carried on with their banter. Jorah was in the middle of a lively tale from a recent hunt, while Robb and Gendry argued over the best way to handle a particularly stubborn horse.

The door creaked open, and in walked Lady Gilliane Glover and Lord Rickon Stark, their presence immediately silencing the room. Lady Gilliane, a woman of dignified grace, and Lord Rickon, tall and commanding, made their way over to their son.

“Cregan, me lad!” Lady Gilliane called out, her voice warm but authoritative. “Got a bit o’ news for ye.”

Cregan turned, a smile fading as he saw his parents. He stood, brushing his hands on his tunic. “Mother, Father, what brings ye here?”

Lord Rickon gave a nod, his face a mix of seriousness and pride. “Your brother spotted Y/N’s carriage on the road. They’ll be arrivin’ soon.”

The room quieted, the friends sensing the shift in the mood. Jorah nudged Cregan with a grin. “Looks like the real fun’s about to start, eh?”

Lady Gilliane gave a small, amused smile. “Aye, that’s right. Thought ye’d want to know. They’ll be here within the hour, so best be ready.”

Cregan’s heart raced, and he glanced at his friends, trying to mask his nerves. “Well, no time like the present, I suppose. Best get meself sorted.”

Lord Rickon placed a reassuring hand on Cregan’s shoulder. “Remember, lad, first impressions count. Show her what a proper Stark man ye are.”

“Aye, Father,” Cregan said, nodding. He turned to his friends with a determined look. “Ye lot best behave yerselves when she arrives. Don’t be givin’ her any more trouble than need be.”

The friends raised their mugs, grinning. “Aye, aye, Cregan! We’ll be on our best behavior,” Robb said, winking.

Lady Gilliane’s gaze softened as she looked at her son. “We’ll leave ye to it, then. Just remember, Cregan, she’ll be as nervous as ye, if not more. Show her the warmth of the North.”

As Lady Gilliane and Lord Rickon exited the hall, Cregan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The anticipation of meeting Y/N was building with every tick of the clock, and he knew the coming hours would be crucial.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Y/n sat in the carriage, the stark contrast between the verdant landscapes of Highgarden and the harsh, icy expanse of Winterfell weighing heavily on her. The snow-clad scenery outside felt alien and unwelcoming compared to the lush greenery she had left behind. Each jolt of the carriage seemed to deepen her sense of displacement.

Her mother’s hand, warm and steady, was a source of comfort amid her growing anxiety. Y/N clung to it, drawing solace from its presence as she tried to quell her rising fears.

“We’re almost there, dear” her mother said softly, her voice a gentle balm against the cold atmosphere of the carriage. “Remember, we’re in this together.”

Y/n managed a small, appreciative smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you, Mother. It’s just… it’s so different from home.”

Her father, ever the pillar of stoicism, was peering out the window, his gaze fixed on the approaching Winterfell.

The carriage began to slow, the crunch of snow under the wheels signaling their arrival. As they came to a stop, y/n could see her father alighting first, his figure steady and authoritative as he approached Lord Rickon Stark.

“Lord Rickon” her father said, stepping forward with a formal nod. “It is a pleasure to see you again. Thank you for your gracious hospitality.”

Y/n and her mother remained in the carriage, the cold air seeping through the cracks in the doors. Her mother's hand squeezed hers gently, offering a fleeting moment of comfort in the face of her overwhelming anxiety.

"Mother" y/n whispered, her voice trembling. "What if I can't do this? I-I’m scared"

Her mother turned to her, eyes filled with sympathy and understanding. "Oh, my dear, I know it seems daunting. But you have a strength within you that you may not yet realize. You have always been resilient."

Tears welled up in y/n's eyes. "I feel so far from home. Everything here is so cold, so harsh."

Her mother reached up, brushing a tear from

y/n's cheek. "I know, darling. Highgarden's warmth and beauty are hard to leave behind. But you must remember, you have the ability to adapt and thrive. This place will feel like home in time."

Y/n nodded, trying to take comfort in her mother's words, but the knot in her stomach remained tight. "And what of Father? He seems so determined, but... he never cares for how I feel."

Her mother's expression darkened momentarily before she masked it with a gentle smile. "don't let him weigh you down. Focus on yourself and your own strength. You are here to build a new life, and I believe in you."

The carriage door opened, and the cold air rushed in, a stark reminder of the world awaiting her. Her father was already engaged in conversation with Lord Rickon Stark, their voices carrying a tone of formality and mutual respect.

"It's time" her mother said softly, giving y/n's hand one last reassuring squeeze. "Show them the grace and strength you possess. You are more than capable y/n."

With a deep breath, y/n steeled herself and stepped out of the carriage. The cold air bit at her skin, but she walked forward, her mother following closely behind.

Y/n's mother nudged her gently, drawing her attention away from the imposing figure of Lord Rickon. "Y/n, dear" she whispered, "Lord Cregan is approaching you."

Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she turned to see Cregan making his way towards her. He was even taller and more formidable than she remembered, his broad shoulders and strong build making him appear larger than life. She stiffened, her body tensing with apprehension.

Cregan's eyes, a deep and thoughtful blue, met hers as he stopped before her. He could see the trepidation in her gaze, the way her hands clutched the folds of her cloak. Despite the fear evident in her demeanor, she managed to muster a polite greeting.

"Lord Cregan" she said, her voice steady but tinged with a slight tremor. "It is an honor to be here."

Cregan offered a warm smile, though he felt a pang of hurt and self-consciousness at the sight of her fear. He noticed the redness around her eyes, the telltale signs that she had been crying. The realization made his heart ache—she was far from home, surrounded by strangers, and faced with the daunting prospect of marrying him, a man she barely remembered.

"Lady y/n" he responded, his voice gentle. "The honor is mine. Welcome to Winterfell."

Y/n nodded, her posture rigid. "Thank you, my lord."

He could see her struggling to maintain her composure, her attempts to be polite masking the underlying fear and uncertainty. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her that she was safe here with him, but he knew his words might not carry much weight given the circumstances.

"Ye must be tired from yer journey" Cregan said, trying to ease the tension. "I hope the accommodations we’ve prepared for ye are to yer liking."

She glanced around, her eyes briefly meeting his before darting away. "I'm sure they will be, my lord. Thank you."

Cregan's heart softened at her evident discomfort. He could only imagine how overwhelming this experience must be for her—leaving the warmth and familiarity of Highgarden for the cold and formidable North, betrothed to an intimidating stranger.

"Please, if there is anything ye need, do not hesitate to ask," he added, his tone earnest. "I want ye to feel at home here."

Y/N nodded again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Lord Cregan."

As the formalities continued, Cregan remained by her side, acutely aware of her apprehension. He could see the way she shivered slightly in the cold, her delicate frame dwarfed by the heavy cloak she wore. The vulnerability in her eyes struck a chord within him, igniting a protective instinct he hadn’t anticipated.

He knew it would take time for her to adjust, to feel comfortable in this new and unfamiliar place. And while her fear and anxiety might hurt him, he understood the reasons behind them. She was far from home, thrust into a situation beyond her control, and he was determined to show her that she had nothing to fear.

As the crowd began to disperse, Cregan leaned in slightly, his voice low and sincere. "I hope ye will come to find Winterfell as welcoming as Highgarden, Lady y/n. We Northerners may seem cold, but we are loyal and true. Ye have my word on that."

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes searching his for a moment before she nodded, a hint of hope mingling with her fear. "…I will do my best."

He smiled softly, hoping to convey his sincerity. "And I will do my best to make this place a home for ye."

With that, they parted, y/n retreating to her quarters with her mother while Cregan watched her go, a mix of emotions churning within him. He was determined to prove himself to her, to show her that beneath his intimidating exterior lay a heart of gold capable of warmth and compassion.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

The day of the wedding arrived, casting a serene hush over Winterfell. The godswood was adorned for the occasion, the ancient weirwood standing sentinel over the ceremony, its pale bark and blood-red leaves seeming to echo the gravity of the moment.

In her chambers, y/n adjusted her maiden’s cloak for the final time. The rich green of House Tyrell’s sigil contrasted sharply with the snowy landscape visible through the window. Her father, though distant and stern, was prepared to escort her. As they approached the godswood, y/n’s heart pounded in her chest, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on her.

Her father’s expression was somber, but he offered her a curt nod, signaling it was time. Together, they walked through the snow, the crunching of their footsteps the only sound breaking the silence. The guests had gathered, their breaths visible in the chill air, and they fell into a hushed reverence as y/n and her father approached the heart tree.

Cregan waited beneath the weirwood, his eyes fixed on the approaching bride. As she neared, his breath caught slightly, a mixture of awe and anticipation in his gaze. The grandeur of y/n’s beauty was amplified by the solemnity of the godswood, her presence seeming almost ethereal in the fading light.

When they reached the base of the tree, Cregan’s voice rang out clearly, cutting through the stillness. “Who comes? Who comes before the gods?”

Y/n’s father’s voice was steady as he replied,

“Y/n of House Tyrell comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?”

Cregan’s response was filled with a fervent resolve. “Me, Cregan of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell. I claim her. Who gives her?”

Y/n’s father turned to her, his voice formal but lacking warmth. “I, Henry of House Tyrell, her father, gives her.”

He then addressed y/n, his tone clipped. “Lady y/n, will you take this man?”

Y/n’s voice trembled slightly but was resolute. “I take this man.”

With the formalities completed, Cregan and y/n joined hands and knelt before the weirwood. They bowed their heads, submitting to the gods in silent prayer. The moment was charged with a profound intimacy, the ancient tree bearing witness to their vows.

After a few moments, Cregan gently removed

y/n’s maiden’s cloak, revealing the intricate embroidery of House Tyrell on her dress. With great care, he draped over her shoulders a new cloak—the sigil of House Stark now displayed proudly.

The crowd erupted into applause, their cheers ringing out as Cregan and y/n stood together. The ceremony was complete, the ancient bond of the godswood now symbolizing the beginning of their shared life.

As they walked back towards the castle, Cregan stole glances at y/n, his admiration and anticipation palpable. Despite the harshness of Winterfell’s climate and the gravity of their new life, the day had marked a hopeful new chapter for both of them.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Y/n's heart pounded as Cregan guided her through the cold, imposing corridors of Winterfell. The castle's heavy stone walls seemed to close in on her, amplifying her sense of isolation. Cregan's presence beside her was both comforting and intimidating, she couldn’t shake the fear that gripped her heart.

They arrived at Cregan's chambers, where a warm fire crackled in the hearth, casting a soft, inviting glow. He gestured for her to enter first, and after a brief hesitation, she stepped inside.

"Please, make yerself comfortable," Cregan said, closing the door behind them. His northern accent was thick, adding a rugged charm to his words. "Would ye like somethin' to drink? A bit o' wine, mayhaps, to help ye warm up?"

Y/n nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, thank you."

Cregan poured a glass of wine and handed it to her, his gaze lingering on her as she took a small sip. He could see the tension in her posture and wanted to ease her fears, to show her that he was not the monster she imagined.

"Y/n," he began, his voice low and earnest, the thick accent wrapping each word in a soft embrace, "I know this must be overwhelmin'. I want ye to know that I understand yer fears, and I swear I’ll do everythin' in me power to make ye feel safe and cherished here."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. "Thank you, my lord," she said, her voice quivering. "I… I don't know what to expect."

Cregan took a step closer, his gaze filled with a yearning that spoke of deep emotion. "Ye can call me Cregan" he said, the warmth in his northern accent making his words even more poignant. "And I need ye to hear me now, for it’s somethin’ I’ve carried with me for years. From the moment I first beheld ye, me heart was forever altered."

Y/n's breath hitched, her eyes searching his face for the truth behind his words. Cregan's expression was tender, his gaze reflecting a vulnerability she hadn’t expected. He took a deep breath, as if gathering the courage to bare his soul.

"I remember the first time I saw ye in the gardens of Highgarden," he said softly, his voice weaving a tapestry of emotion. "I was just a lad, new to the beauty of the south. Everythin’ around me was lush and vibrant, but when I saw ye, it was as if my world fell apart. Ye were like a vision of ethereal grace amidst the greenery. The flowers and the trees—they seemed mere shadows compared to ye. In that moment, it was clear that ye were the true beauty of the garden."

Y/n's eyes widened, and a flush of color spread across her cheeks. She could hardly breathe as she processed his confession. "Since then?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Cregan nodded, his gaze steady and full of longing. "Aye, since then. Ye were a beacon of light in me life, and that memory has lingered, burnin’ bright in me heart. I’ve longed to be near ye, not merely for the sake of duty, but because ye’ve ensnared my heart in a way no one else ever could."

Her heart fluttered wildly at his words, the warmth of the fire mingling with the warmth of his confession. She had always felt like a pawn in her father’s game, never imagining that someone like Cregan could see her so profoundly.

"I didn’t know" she said softly, her voice catching in her throat. "I thought... I thought you would be distant and cold."

Cregan's smile widened, his eyes soft with pure affection. "Aye the North may be cold, but my heart is only filled with warmth for ye. I want ye to see the real me, to know that I am here for ye with all that I am."

She looked into his eyes, seeing a depth of sincerity and yearning that shifted her perception. Perhaps this marriage could be more than a mere alliance. Maybe it could be the beginning of something profoundly beautiful.

"Thank you, Cregan…." she whispered, feeling a newfound sense of calm and hope. "I... I want to try."

Cregan’s smile was full of warmth and relief. "Tha’s all I ask, Y/n. We’ll take this one step at a time, together."

As they stood there, hand in hand, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, Y/n felt a spark of hope ignite in her heart, seeing Cregan in a new light.

Cregan's eyes never left Y/n's as he took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted this moment to be perfect, to reassure her of his intentions.

"Y/n" he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "may I kiss ye?"

Y/n's breath hitched, her cheeks flushing scarlet. She hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod, her eyes never leaving his. "Yes, Cregan. You may."

Cregan moved closer, his hand gently cupping her cheeks as he leaned in. He pressed his lips to hers in a soft tender, almost hesitant kiss, his touch gentle and reassuring. Y/n responded, her initial nervousness melting away as she felt the warmth and sincerity in his kiss.

When he pulled back, he looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort. Seeing none, he smiled softly. "Ye're so beautiful, Y/n."

She blushed again, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you, Cregan."

He took her hand, leading her to the bed. As they stood beside it, he gently picked her up, cradling her in his arms. Y/n gasped softly, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried her. He laid her down on the bed with the utmost care, as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

Cregan's gaze remained locked on Y/n’s face, his eyes filled with a deep, reverent admiration. He lowered himself beside her on the bed, his hand still cupping her cheek. “I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “I can’t believe yer finally mine. My wife.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered at the sincerity in his voice. The way he looked at her made her feel cherished, his admiration lighting a fire within her. Her apprehension melted away as she reached up, cupping his face in return. “And I’m grateful to be yours, Cregan.”

Their lips met again, this time with more fervor. The kiss deepened as Cregan’s hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. Y/n’s hands roamed over his shoulders, pulling him into the kiss with equal intensity. The warmth of his touch, combined with the gentle urgency of their embrace, made her feel as if she was floating.

Cregan’s breath mingled with hers as he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers. “I’ve wanted this so much” he whispered. “I’ve wanted ye.”

Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze and the sincerity of his words. She felt a new, desperate longing surge within her, her body responding to his touch with an eagerness she hadn’t expected. “Please, Cregan” she breathed out, her voice trembling with emotion.

Their lips met again, each kiss more passionate than the last. The world outside seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in the moment, their breaths coming in sync as their yearning for each other deepened with every touch.

Cregan's kisses grew more intense, his touch transforming from gentle caresses to an urgent, burning desire. He pulled back just enough to look into Y/n's eyes, his own dark with passion. "I want to see all of ye, to feel ye" he said softly, his voice rough with need.

With deliberate care, he started to undress, his movements slow and deliberate. He tossed his cloak aside, revealing his strong muscular frame. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she watched him, his hardened form visible through his small clothes, making her heart race with a mix of anticipation and nervous excitement.

Cregan's hands moved to his shirt, sliding it off with a practiced ease. His gaze remained locked on Y/n as he undressed, his eyes filled with a burning intensity. His hands lingered on the waistband of his smallclothes, his hardness evident and stirring a deep, aching longing within Y/n.

When he was finally freed his cock, Cregan approached Y/n with a tender but determined expression. He reached for her cloak, slipping it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. His fingers moved deftly to her dress, his touch gentle but purposeful as he began to unlace it.

The fabric fell away, revealing her bare chest to his gaze. Cregan's breath caught at the sight, his eyes roaming over her exposed skin with a mixture of reverence and desire.

"Ye're stunning," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "I want to cherish every part of ye."

Yn's skin tingled under his gaze, her heart pounding as she felt both exposed and cherished.

Cregan's hands continued their exploration, his touch both reverent and possessive. He leaned in to kiss her again, his lips trailing hot, desperate kisses across her neck and shoulders.

His hands roamed over her bare skin, his touch igniting a fierce desire within her. She gasped, her body arching into his touch, as he pressed her into the bed with a controlled but eager force. His kisses became more fervent, his hands gripping her waist as he explored her body with a possessive urgency.

"I've longed for this moment" Cregan said between kisses, his voice rough with need.

Yn responded with equal fervor, her hands gripping his shoulders as she kissed him back with a desperate passion. "Show me, Cregan" she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Show me how much you want me."

The room was filled with the sounds of their mingled breaths and wet sloppy kisses as they lost themselves in the moment. Cregan's touch was a blend of tenderness and raw desire, each movement and kiss building a profound connection that left them both breathless and yearning for more.

As the kiss deepened, Cregan's touch grew more urgent, his hands roaming over Y/n's body with increasing desperation. His kisses, once tender and exploratory, became more demanding, his breaths ragged as he tried to control his growing desire. Yet, despite the intensity of their embrace, Cregan seemed to hold back, his movements tinged with an inner struggle to remain gentle.

Y/n could sense his restraint and the tension in his body. She was overwhelmed by the fire burning within her, her own desire driving her to push past his tentative touches.

"Cregan" she gasped between kisses, her voice trembling with need. "I want you. I want you to claim me fully."

Cregan's breath hitched, his eyes dark with a mix of surprise and longing. "Y/n... I-I don't want to hurt ye" he murmured, his voice strained as he tried to keep his composure, he promised himself that he would be gentle, only touching her as if she were made of the most delicate glass and now he’d already been more rough than he intended.

But Y/n's voice was resolute, her gaze fixed on him with a desperate intensity. "No, Cregan. I want you to make me yours completely.” She whined, but she saw the look on his eyes he wouldn’t relent unless she pushed him towards his breaking point. “I want you to fuck a baby into me. I need you ple—“

Cregan didn't let you finish. His lips crashed against yours in a kiss that ignited a wildfire within. He held your face tenderly yet firmly, his touch a lifeline as you clung to him, desperate for more. His tongue explored the depths of your mouth, tasting every inch with a hunger that bordered on feral.

The clash of your teeth, the fervor of your kiss, it was a battle, a dance of dominance that you were willing to lose.

Cregan's tongue delved deeper, drawing a breathless moan from you. His scent enveloped you, intoxicating and heady, making your knees buckle with longing. It was as if the tether to your senses was fraying, leaving you to melt into a molten pool beneath his commanding presence.

The heat coursing through your body was a familiar sensation, yet it had never burned this intensely. It surged through you, tightening your nipples and pooling between your thighs, setting every nerve aflame.

Lost in the haze of his searing kisses, you scarcely noticed when he eased your back farther onto the bed, his body a solid, protective weight above you. Your eyes met, a silent conflagration passing between you, before he claimed your lips again with a gentler fervor, the same intensity simmering beneath the surface.

"Do you truly want this? With me?" Cregan's voice was a hushed murmur against your lips, a plea and a promise intertwined.

"Yes, husband" you breathed, the words a vow of your own.

His lips brushed your ear, his breath a tantalizing whisper that sent shivers cascading down your spine. "I am going to make love to ye now."

Your nipples hardened at his words, a raw moan of anticipation escaping your lips as he took in your form, the vulnerable softness of your skin a feast for his hungry gaze.

Cregan lowered his head, his lips tracing a path of fire down your neck, over your collarbone, each kiss a desperate silent vow. His hands followed, exploring, caressing, leaving no inch of you untouched.

"Yer exquisite" he murmured, his voice a reverent whisper against your skin. His touch was a balance of possession and adoration, a worship that left you breathless.

The cool air kissed your overheated skin as he continued to explore you, Every touch, every kiss, was a symphony of sensations, a crescendo of passion that left you aching for more.

his eyes drinking in the sight of you, slowly consumed with lust for him, with a reverence that made your heart stutter. "My wife" he whispered, the words a sacred incantation.

Cregan leaned in, capturing your lips once more in a kiss that was both fierce and possessive. His hands roamed your body with a fervent curiosity, memorizing every curve, every dip, leaving a trail of molten fire in their wake.

Your body responded to him, arching into his touch, a silent plea for more.

His kisses grew more insistent, his touch more demanding, as he made his way down your body. He worshipped you with every kiss, every caress, until you were trembling with need beneath him.

"Cregan," you breathed, your voice a soft plea.

His eyes met yours, dark and intense. "I'm here, Y/n" he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. "I'm here."

Cregan's gaze was fixed on your taut, aching nipples. He wasted no time, his heated mouth enveloping one of your tight, sensitive peaks. You gasped as your back arched in response, the initial shock of his touch quickly melting into a rhythm of pleasure.

Each time his cheeks hollowed as he suckled, your gasps turned to desperate pants, while his fingers teased the other abandoned nipple, pulling and twisting it gently.

Cregan's mouth pulling harder on your nipple, his tongue lavishing attention on the delicate bud. Every flick of his tongue sent waves of sensation through you, stirring a throbbing need between your legs.

The pulsing ache demanded more, and your hand, almost involuntarily, slipped between your thighs. The damp evidence of your desire left you breathless and mortified.

"Show me yer hand" Cregan's voice rumbled, his tone firm.

"It's... it's embarrassing-"

Without hesitation, Cregan parted your thighs and deftly removed your small clothes, leaving you exposed before him. His gaze settled on your glistening core, and a satisfied smile tugged at his lips.

"C-cregan!"

"Y/n" he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of adoration and hunger.

"Ye've got the prettiest little cunt."

his words made your entire face burn and turn a dark crimson. The raw honesty in his voice left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest.

“D-don’t look so closely!”

Without wasting another moment, he lowered his head between your thighs, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh.

your body trembling with need. When his tongue finally made contact, a moan escaped your lips, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

Cregan's tongue moved with practiced skill, each stroke and flick sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. His lips latched onto your clit, sucking gently before releasing it with a soft pop, only to dive back in with renewed fervor.

The lewd slurping sounds filled the room, mixing with your breathless moans and the crackling of the fire.

Your thighs quivered, the sensation of his mouth on you pushing you closer to the edge. "Cregan" you gasped loudly, your voice shaking. "Please, don't stop."

He didn't need to be told twice. His tongue delved deeper, exploring every inch of your soaking wet cunt, his fingers joining in to tease and caress. The combined sensations were overwhelming, your body arching off the bed as you rode the waves of pleasure.

When you finally came, it was with a cry of his name, your body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through you. Cregan didn't relent though, his tongue continuing its relentless assault, lapping up your juices with a moan, prolonging your climax until you were a trembling, breathless mess.

Only then did he pull back, his lips glistening with your arousal, his eyes dark with desire.

He moved up your body, his hands bracing on either side of your head as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

You could taste yourself on his lips, the intimate act deepening the connection between you.

But it still wasn’t enough for you, gathering your courage, you whispered, "Cregan?"

His eyes opened, soft and warm as they met yours. "Aye, love?"

You bit your lip, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks. "Can I... can I touch you?"

A spark of interest flared in his eyes, and he propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at you. "Touch me? Where?" He said teasingly.

You swallowed hard, your gaze dropping to where his cock lay, painfully hard and twitching. "There" you whined softly, reaching out tentatively.

Cregan's lips curved upwards. "Aye, love. Ye can touch me."

Your hand wrapped around his shaft, the heat of him searing your palm. You marveled at the feel of his skin, so smooth and yet so firm beneath your touch. Cregan's breath hitched, his muscles tensing as you explored him.

"Like this?" you asked, looking up at him for guidance.

He nodded, his voice rough with restraint.

"Aye, just like that. A bit firmer, love."

You tightened your grip slightly, your hand moving up and down his length in slow, deliberate strokes. The sight of him, so vulnerable and exposed, filled you with a heady sense of power and intimacy.

Cregan's hand covered yours, guiding your movements. "Tha's it, love. Yer doin' so well" he moaned, his voice laced with praise and pleasure.

As you continued to stroke him, you noticed a bead of precum forming at the tip. The sight of it, glistening and inviting, sparked a boldness within you. You couldn’t help yourself, you leaned forward, your tongue darting out to lick it away. Cregan groaned loudly, his hips bucking

involuntarily at the sensation.

"Fuck! Y/n" he gasped, his hand tightening around yours.

"Do that again."

You obliged, your tongue swirling around the thick head of his cock, tasting the salty essence of him. The act felt both daring and incredibly arousing, each lick eliciting a new sound of pleasure from Cregan.

Encouraged by his response, you took him deeper into your mouth, your lips closing around his shaft as you began to bob your head.

You were still unaccustomed to his size though, what you couldn’t fit in your mouth you stroked with your hand.

Cregan's hand tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as you pleasured him.

"Ye're so fuckin’ good to me, love" he groaned, his voice thick with need. "So perfect."

The praise spurred you on, your pace quickening as you took him deeper, your hand stroking the base of his cock in time with your movements. Cregan's breaths grew ragged, his body tense with the effort to hold back.

When he finally came, it was with a guttural moan, his release bursting in your mouth.

You swallowed eagerly, wanting to take all of him, to show him the same pleasure he had given you.

As you pulled back, you looked up at him, your eyes wide and full of adoration.

Cregan's chest heaved, his eyes glazed with satisfaction as he pulled you into his arms, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss.

But the night was far from over and the hunger in his eyes told you he was far from satisfied. You felt a renewed wave of desire wash over you, your body eager for more of him.

"Are ye ready for more, love?" he asked, his voice husky with desire. His hand trailed down your body, caressing your breasts and waist, finally coming to rest between your legs.

His fingers teased your wetness, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. "Yer so wet for me."

You nodded, your breath hitching as he continued to stroke you. "Yes, Cregan. I want you. I want you to take me."

His eyes darkened with a primal need, and he positioned himself between your legs, spreading them wide. "I'll be gentle at first, love," he promised, guiding his cock to your entrance.

"But I won't be able to hold back for long."

You felt the tip of his cock pressing against you, and your heart raced with anticipation.

He pushed forward slowly, entering you with a smooth, deliberate motion. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and painful sting as he stretched you to accommodate his large size.

Cregan's eyes never left yours, his gaze filled with love and desire. "Yer so tight, love. So perfect" he groaned, pushing deeper until he was fully seated inside you.

The feeling of being completely filled by him was indescribable, a blend of fullness and heat that made you gasp. "Cregan," you moaned, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

He began to move, his thrusts slow and gentle at first, allowing you to adjust to the sensation. But as your moans grew louder and your hips began to move in time with his, his restraint faltered. His pace quickened, each thrust deeper and harder than the last.

"You feel so good, Y/n," he growled, his voice rough with need. "I can't hold back any longer."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he pounded into you.

The force of his thrusts drove you higher, making the bed hit the walls roughly, a testament to how greedily he was fucking into you.

Cregan shifted his position, lifting your legs higher and pressing them against your chest. The new angle allowed him to penetrate you even deeper, and you screamed his name as he took you harder.

"That's it, love. Take all of my cock," he urged, his eyes locked on your face, watching your every reaction.

The pressure built within you, the pleasure mounting to an unbearable peak. With a final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. Your body convulsed around him, gripping his cock as he continued to drive into you.

Cregan was relentless, his own release building. He flipped you onto your stomach, pulling you onto your hands and knees. He entered you from behind, his hands gripping your hips as he pounded into you with abandon.

"Fuck, Y/n" he groaned, his voice a rough whisper. "I'm gonna fill ye up. Every last drop."

Cregan's movements became more erratic as he neared his release, his breathing heavy and labored. You could feel the tension building within him, every muscle in his body coiling tighter and tighter. His thrusts grew deeper, more powerful, and you knew he was close.

With a final, powerful thrust, Cregan's hips stilled, pressing deep inside you. His entire body tensed, and he let out a loud, guttural groan, his face contorted in pleasure. You could feel the hot rush of his cum filling you, pulse after pulse, more than you had ever imagined. The sheer volume of it overwhelmed you, a torrent of heat flooding your insides.

"Fuck, Y/n," he groaned, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Take all of it. Every last drop."

He held himself inside you for a moment longer, his cock throbbing with each spurt of cum. Then, slowly, he began to pull out, the sensation almost too much to bear. As he withdrew, you felt a gush of his cum ooze out of you, warm and thick.

Cregan watched, mesmerized, as his release leaked from your entrance. The sight seemed to ignite something primal in him, and he quickly brought his fingers to your dripping core. He gently pushed two fingers inside you, making sure to plug the flow.

"Can't let it go to waste" he murmured, his voice a mix of possessiveness and tenderness. "Want every drop to stay inside ye."

His fingers moved within you, ensuring his cum was thoroughly spread.

You felt another wave of pleasure as he gently massaged your sensitive walls, the sensation of being so full and claimed by him overwhelming you. Cregan leaned down, kissing the small of your back, his breath warm against your skin. "Yer mine, Y/n. All mine," he whispered, his fingers still inside you, holding his seed in place.

You lay there, breathless and trembling, feeling utterly claimed and cherished by him.

Cregan slowly withdrew his fingers, ensuring that every drop of his cum remained inside you. He gently flipped you onto your back, his eyes filled with an intensity that made your heart race.

As he settled beside you, his strong arms wrapped around your body, pulling you close. His warmth enveloped you, a comforting contrast to the cool air of the room.

He pressed his lips to your forehead, a tender kiss that lingered. Then, he moved to your cheeks, planting soft, loving kisses on each one. His lips brushed your nose, and then he found your lips, kissing you with a gentleness that was almost reverent.

"Y/n" he murmured between kisses, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm so glad ye're mine."

You felt a swell of affection in your chest, the sweetness of his words and the tenderness of his touch filling you with a profound sense of belonging. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as he continued to kiss you.

Cregan's kisses were endless, each one a declaration of his love and devotion. He kissed your eyelids, your temples, your jawline, and your chin, his lips exploring every inch of your face with a loving intensity that made you feel cherished beyond measure.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "So perfect. I want to spend every moment of our lives together, showing ye how much I adore ye."

He held you tighter, his hands stroking your hair, your back, your sides. His touch was soothing, a balm to your still-racing heart.

The rough, demanding lover from moments ago was now a gentle giant, cradling you in his arms with infinite care.

Cregan pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Are ye alright, love?" he asked, his voice soft with concern. "Did I hurt ye?"

You shook your head, smiling up at him. "No, Cregan. You were perfect. I'm more than alright."

His expression softened even further, a look of relief washing over his face. "Good," he whispered, pressing another kiss to your lips. "I'll always take care of ye, Y/n. Always."

You nestled closer to him, resting your head on his broad chest. The rhythmic beat of his heart was a comforting lullaby, and you felt a deep sense of contentment wash over you.

A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground with no one around to see it. The thought lingered in your mind, a symbol of the unexpected beauty and love that had blossomed between you.

Cregan continued to kiss you, his lips never straying far from your skin, as he held you in a protective, loving embrace.

In that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. Cregan's sweet, endless kisses and his tender words were a promise of a future filled with love, passion, and unwavering devotion.

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆ ⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔

[iridescentxstars]

-> 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 .ೃ࿐ [part two]

➳ published: 25.04.25 ➳ credit: banner: @aaagustd || beta: @wooahaeproductions @kwanisms @yoongihan ➳ werewolf!au || bakery!au || enemies to lover!au || genre: smut || angst || supernatural || fluff || dark || rating: m ➳ pairing: alpha!bangchan x bakery!reader (fem) ➳ summary: a decision in chris' past leads him down a road that brings him to his mate and even though he says he doesn't want her - it seems destiny, and others, won't take no for an answer. ➳ word count: 28.1k (this part) || total: 56.6k ➳ warnings/kinks: unexpected marking/claiming, violence, toxic behaviour, mentions of cheating (on reader by ex), manipulation, unprotected sex, implications of knotting, masturbation, light pain kink, praise/worship, dirty talk, manhandling, implications of being drugged, kidnapping/held hostage, aggressive behaviour, threats, mentions of death, minor character death(s), panic attack, mentions of a toxic relationship, mildly graphic descriptions of violence/killing/death. ➳ author's note: hello, it's me! it has been 4734873294 years since i started this fic and wow, i hope you love it! the mc is affectionately nicknamed 'sugar' and has minor descriptors just to help flesh her out a little more and she is implied to be curvy and soft (no eye colour, name, etc.). also i wanted to try and change things up a bit when it came to the pov's so 'you' is used when in the reader or a general pov and she/her is used when in another pov. ➳ taglist: @byunparklimchoi @djeniryuu @sanjoongie @honey-andmilktea @skzswife @catlove83 @manuosorioh @wolfs-howling @vserenia @kayleefriedchicken @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @stressymessyana @wildtokay @h0rnyp0t @idiotmaterial @teandtearsxo @ecwipsecoffee @black-sunshine-00 (please let me know if you want to be tagged in future works)

“You owe me twenty.” The wolf smirks, holding out his hand for Minho, who simply chuckles and digs around in his back pocket for the note.

The two wolves watch as Chris pushes through the crowd, causing a slight ruckus as he shoves people aside. Even at this distance, they can see the conflict on his face, the way his emotions are all over the place as he heads for the door. They had seen her and Chris disappear and placed a bet on whether Chris would come out first or if she would – making the older of the wolves the victor.

“It seems like the Alpha is having some regrets.” His thin lips lift in a smile as he watches Chris exit with a couple of betas he had managed to grab along the way. “What do you think it is? Having been weak for a human? Losing his virginity in the bathroom of a house party? I really thought him getting laid would put a smile on that man’s face but he looks even more pissed off than usual.”

Minho shrugs, making a sound that shows he doesn’t know or care as to why Chris is pissed off. When he sees her walking out of the bathroom, adjusting her dress and giving under her eyes a final wipe as if she had been crying, then it seems like he’s paying close attention. “How did you know that they’d fuck? They could have fought.” The wolf raises an eyebrow, never really having understood how Theo knew so much about her especially when the older didn’t run in the same circles as she did. “You’ve been stalking her since you came to town?”

Theo chuckles, shrugging his shoulders innocently, “Maybe. She’s the Alpha’s mate, who wouldn’t want to learn more about her?” His dark eyes watch her looking around, searching for someone, probably Minho. “You should take her home. If Chris really did fuck her and leave like that, she’ll need a shoulder to cry on and who’s shoulder is better than her new friend?”

“And what, kill her in a car accident? I’ve been drinking, idiot.”

Theo growls and rolls his eyes before shoving the twenty he had just gotten back at Minho. “Get an Uber. Fuck.”

Clicking his tongue, Minho shakes his head and wonders why the fuck he puts up with the rogue before the constant ache in his chest, the feeling that a part of himself is missing, reminds him why. This is all for her, he thinks to himself. Turning away from the man, Minho makes his way towards her and pushes through the mass of dancing bodies before finding her standing in a corner by herself, hidden in the dark. He can smell her distress rolling off her in waves, causing the beta to want to hug her but as he gets closer, he can smell Chris’ scent all over her.

Gross. He likes her natural scent better.

“Hey, there you a-ah, what’s happened?” Minho asks, softening his expressions to look like he’s been looking for her the whole time rather than talking to someone about how she's fucking Chris in the bathroom. 

He half-expects her to launch yourself at him, to want to be consoled and held as she cried about how much of an asshole Chris was to her but he has to give her credit, she's holding it well even if her eyes are shining with unshed tears. Reaching for her, he notices the way she pulls away from his touch and shakes her head. 

“I want to go home,” She mutters, trying to keep her voice low so he can’t hear how broken and hurt she is. “Please.”

Even though the friendship started as Minho using her as a means to an end, seeing her hurting like this, trying to look so small so nobody would look over and see her on the verge of tears – it pisses him off. “Come on,” he nods, a hand barely touching the small of her back as he leads her out the back of the house so she doesn't have to walk through the dancing crowd. “Did something happen?”

She remains quiet as they walk, eyes focused on the ground in front of her and only turning when Minho prompts her to. Not a word is spoken between them until they are standing at the end of the driveway and Minho is on his phone, ordering them an Uber. “This was a mistake.” The words are so quiet, so soft that they could have been carried away with the gentle breeze blowing her hair into her face. 

The wolf looks at her, waiting for her to say more but she remains quiet, unmoving and deep in her own mind until the Uber comes and Minho decides that if she isn't going to tell him now – maybe it’s best to let her get home to bed. “Call me tomorrow, yeah?” He says, helping her buckle her seatbelt and pats her head gently, “I’ll come around and we can do something.” A nod is the only answer he receives before he closes the door and watches the tail lights fade into the night.

“This was a mistake?” He repeats, brow furrowing. Did something happen and she regretted coming to the party? “Fuck sakes.” The wolf is too buzzed to try and figure out what she could have meant and if he’s going to have to deal with her crying over Chris tomorrow then he’ll need a good night’s sleep.

This plan better fucking work.

The next few days are quiet. Whether it’s because the universe has seemed to allow you time to process what has happened or because you turned your phone off and refused to leave your bed is irrelevant to the fact that it’s quiet.

Silent.

Perfect to overthink what happened at the party.

You don't want to talk about it, not really, maybe just a little… Okay, you want to talk about it but you don't know how to. What are you meant to say? You’re upset because some guy who’s been nothing but an asshole to you fucked you so good that you could feel it the next day and then said it was a mistake and left you to clean up alone? Yes, it’s a valid reason to be upset but for some reason – you’re more upset about it than you should be and you don't know why.

It’s not like you’ve never had a one night stand before, it’s not like you’ve never snuck out of a bed yourself, it’s not like this is different to anything that’s happened in your past but it definitely hurts a lot.

A mistake. That’s what he said. That’s what upset you. Everything else you could have dealt with, actually, you expected it considering you are meant to - no, you do hate each other. You didn’t expect Chris to hold you, to kiss you and say he enjoyed himself, or to offer you a ride home. You didn’t expect Chris to be kind afterwards but you didn’t expect that.

Never that.

Reaching for your shoulder, the woman pulls your stretched-out faded tee to the side and sighs when you faintly see the bite mark he left behind healing nicely. “Who does that?” You mumble under your breath before covering the mark up and rolling out of bed to finally shower. “I’m not letting him have any power over me, he means nothing, I will not waste my energy on some stupid man.” You repeat the words to yourself that got you through your breakup, hoping that it works better now than it did back then.

You try to put on a tough front, always trying your best to be less sensitive about things that do cause you to feel any type of way. Oddly, physical pain doesn’t hurt you as much, Serena teases you about it saying that maybe you have a pain kink but what does get under your skin and sit with you and bother you are words. Sometimes you are fine, unbothered by harsh words thrown your way like when you would be called a know-it-all in university or when people used to tease you about a crush you had back in high school. Sometimes, they were only ever just words that held no meaning because they were said by people who mattered very little to you but other times – they would sit with you for days. Once, Serena had said that you were annoying; you both were young and not as close as you are now and you had always wanted to be like your big sister, following her around everywhere until Serena told you off. It hurt, it made you keep your distance for a while because you didn’t want to be annoying anymore.

Being called a mistake… It's not a nice feeling even when it’s been said by someone like Chris.

“His words mean nothing, he means nothing. I’m going to get up and shower. Start my day. I will not think about this anymore.” Overthinking has always been your downfall, something that holds you back, so you try your best to get out of that headspace and enjoy your last day off before Serena drags you back downstairs.

No more being sad over meaningless words and men. You can do that. Right?

“You did what now?” Felix drops his coffee cup, the ceramic smashing on the ground, when Chris tells him what happened at the party. The Alpha tried to be rather nonchalant about it, tried to shrug his shoulders, and act like it wasn’t the biggest deal of the century – Felix, however, refuses to let that happen. “You did what?”

Sighing at the theatrics, Chris drops heavily onto the brown leather couch and lays down with an arm behind his head. “You heard what I said.” The words are spoken more towards the ceiling than the beta.

“Yes, yes, I heard but now I need you to repeat it again. You had sex with your mate at the party Minho threw?” There are a lot of things to unpack in one sentence. The beta’s brown eyes are wide in shock, comically round, but there’s also a glimmer of hope shining within them as he thinks that this might mean that his Alpha has finally accepted his mate. “How do you feel?”

That’s a fucking loaded question if Chris has ever heard one.

How does he feel? He feels everything. If he thought that he knew the world that he lived in before, he was so fucking wrong because Chris feels like every sense has been heightened and sharpened overnight. He feels like he’s an addict waiting for the next hit, coiled and ready to see her, smell her, touch her, taste her on his salivating tongue as he recalls her arousal. Fuck, he’s losing his mind thinking about how her soft flesh felt beneath his fingertips, remembering the sounds she made as he took her in the bathroom– Chris clears his throat and rests a hand on his tense abdomen while furrowing his brow and clenching his eyes closed. Chris feels like the stars have finally aligned, that the universe finally makes sense but there’s also this dull ache in his chest.

Something feels wrong, like a pain sitting in his chest. Whether it’s because he can feel the anguish his mate is processing from the bullshit he had said before fleeing the party or because he never claimed her properly, a reaction to the moment, something that wasn’t meant to happen – either like that or at all – something feels wrong.

He needs to fix things with her if he’s going to get rid of that feeling. It’s distracting.

“I’m fine.” He lies easily when he realises that Felix is watching him with scrutinising eyes. Chris can’t let him think that there’s anything wrong because the over-eager beta will drag him to the bakery to make things better.

“Can you feel her? Do you feel that longing people talk about, not seeing them, not being with them? Does your wolf make it hard to think because he wants her around? Is it as bad as you though–”

“Enough.” One word silences the wolf and he whimpers, bowing his head as he backs away slowly, eyes lowered to the ground and Chris groans slightly. It’s not the beta’s fault that he’s touchier than usual, it’s his own. Running a hand over his face, Chris sits up slowly, deciding to put himself and Felix out of their misery by going to see her.

Who knows whether she would actually speak to him because it was not lost on him, what he said as he exited the bathroom that night. He knows that he said something that he never should have said but there were so many things that were wrong about what they did, and the things that have been slowly happening since only proves as much.

Getting up, Chris runs his fingers through his messy hair to try and tame it, his jaw tensing as mixed emotions rush through him. “It’s time to go get the order anyway,” Felix practically jumps and rushes for the door like an excited pup, the mess on the ground forgotten, while Chris drags himself to grab his wallet and keys. He won’t deny that he is feeling an unfamiliar bounce in his step at the prospect of seeing her but there’s also this feeling of dread for what comes after as well. The conversation they need to have, the way he needs to explain what he is and what this means – also needing to claim his mate properly. Her mark should have healed by now, he had barely broken skin with the bite, so it’ll heal and fade but it won’t remove the bond that’s been formed.

It’s not often that a bond won’t snap into place and solidify immediately because usually when a wolf claims their mate – they don’t fuck up. It takes an intimate connection, for both bodies to be in tune with one another, when the bond is formed and sex is usually the easiest way to go about it as both bodies reach a high that is often achieved together. The dominant wolf will mark their mate, their teeth breaking skin and drawing blood as they climax together but that’s where Chris went wrong. He didn’t go deep enough, he barely left a mark so something that’ll connect his soul and hers feels incomplete.

It doesn’t take away the intense need to see her now that he’s had a taste of her, his mind on her every moment of the day, but everything is dull. Drowning in the murky depths with muffled sounds barely registering as he struggles to breathe. He can almost feel her, almost see her, oh, his fingers could almost reach out and close around her pretty throat and taste her on his tongue but almost is not enough.

Almost is barely scratching the itch.

The brooding wolf hasn’t heard a thing that the other has said as they pull up to the curb and Chris is out of the car before he’s turned it off. “Chri–” Felix is left standing on the sidewalk as the older pushes through the door and stops under the jingling bell.

Where is she?

A ghost of her smiles at him, a fading image that disappears into reality when Chris is met with an empty counter. Inhaling deeply, he takes in her scent, the sweet sugary scent mixed with green apples that is unique to her, but it doesn’t settle the wolf inside – it causes the hairs on the back of his neck to rise in alert when he smells another wolf. Not just any wolf. A wolf that seems to be playing a dangerous game considering his antics as of late.

Minho.

Turning on his heel, Chris nearly rips the door off its hinges as he opens it and storms outside to try and clear his head. His wolf is growling, furious that another wolf has been hanging around but there’s also this worry that’s nagging at him. How long has Minho known? There’s no way that this is a coincidence, that the rogue has decided to befriend a woman who just so happens to be his mate – Minho is far too calculated to have that be an accident.

Felix appears in front of him, the blonde looking worried as his wide eyes take in his Alpha. The sun makes his freckles stand out, something that many would find rather pretty about the beta, but they seem dull as the colour drains from his face. Felix’s hands lift to rest on Chris’ shoulders to try to stop the slaughter that’s about to happen, having noticed their presence before the older wolf. It takes a little while before Chris clicks on, confused at the way Felix is behaving but then he hears it, the softest laugh that has his entire being vibrating with the sound as he looks for the source, for her – only to see that she’s walking with, talking with, fucking laughing with, Minho.

“Chris–”

“Move, Felix.”

The other holds fast, pushing with all his might. “Please. Don’t–”

“I said, move.” The command comes out in a deep ferocious growl and causes the younger to move quickly out of his way, also catching the attention of the happy duo walking towards them.

Her expression sours immediately as she sees Chris, stepping closer to Minho, who is looking rather bored when his dark brown eyes meet Chris’ nearly obsidian black ones due to his wolf pushing to take over and tear this traitor from his mate’s side. It’s only when a wave of anxiety and fear washes through him that Chris stops in his tracks and takes deep inhales to try and settle himself – barely being able to do so while looking at them together. “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” The comment is rather strange to you, unsure why it’s any of his business as to what it is that you’re doing but before you can even answer, Minho sighs.

When he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you in closer, you swear that you heard a possessive growl rip through Chris’ chest and even though it shouldn’t cause you to react with a clench of the thighs – you couldn’t help it. He’s quite frankly the biggest dickhead you’ve ever met, maybe worse than your ex if that’s even possible, but she cannot deny the way their bodies melded perfectly together that night. “What does it look like I’m doing? I took my friend out for lunch and am now walking her back to work. What are you doing?”

Chris’ eyes slowly move over to look over at you, looking you up and down before flitting back to Minho and the corner of his perfectly soft lips curls upwards in a sneer. Heat rushes through you, anger bubbling in your blood as you think it’s aimed at the fact that you’re the friend. “You should find another friend.”

Scoffing and not wanting to deal with his unnecessarily rude attitude, you push past the man blocking your path, making sure to put your shoulder into it. “Fuck you,” you utter under your breath when your shoulder throbs slightly from the impact since it seems he’s like a solid, immovable force that keeps coming back to make you miserable. You’ve had enough belittling, had enough feeling like you were something to be brushed aside or treated like you’re worthless, you refuse to stand there and let another man act like you are a piece of shit when he’s the one acting like it.

His hand wraps tightly around your wrist and you swing your free hand with all your might. You felt bad the first time, you felt so guilty for having laid a hand on him but this time – you don't have that same sentiment.

Though, this time, Chris is prepared, catching your wrist quickly before you make an impact.

“It’ll be wise not to try that again,” he says in a low tone, the voice almost sounding threatening with a hint of amusement. The hardness in his eyes softens as he looks at you and his hold loosens but not enough for you to be able to break free. “We need to talk, Sugar.”

“Let me go,” you grit out, your other hand joining in to try and pry off his grip.

Pulling you closer, Chris doesn’t listen. Of course he doesn’t, he’s a big, stupid Alpha male who thinks he owns you and can do what he wants. “You need to let me explain.”

Your hand rests on his chest, keeping him from leaning in too close and causing your brain to short circuit. Your body is practically vibrating and while you would like to say it’s anger, rage even, there’s an undercurrent of something else. Anticipation, need, you aren't entirely sure but it’s not the reaction you want to be having around him, you do know that much. “Explain what?” You struggle a little more, feeling eyes on you and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “Chris…” Your eyes look around; Minho keeps his distance, glaring at Chris but not stepping in, Felix watches with a shocked look on his face and then you see a couple walking past slowly, watching this play out, “Please, let me go.” You try to plead with him, hoping that’ll work.

To your surprise, it does.

Creating distance between you, you rub her wrist, hating the longing for his touch that he’s left behind. “I don’t have anything to say to you,” you lie. You have a lot to say, a whole novel to tell him but you don't want to give Chris any satisfaction of knowing that he’s caused you to feel any type of way. “Go away.”

You see the tick in his jaw, the clenching of the muscle being more attractive than it needs to be at this moment as you turn away to keep yourself from admiring him instead of being angry. It’s been happening a lot, even though your mind tells you that you hates him, that you can’t stand him, and how he’s the biggest asshole to ever walk the planet – you’re always finding yourself thinking about the way his hands caressed your curves, the way his lips felt as they pressed against your skin and how his smile causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

Storming into the store, you take a moment to breathe, to calm yourself down before turning to look at the two men who are basically having a staring competition outside of the building. Testosterone and idiocy flows between them while poor Felix stands behind Chris, looking over at you and back at Minho, over and over again. You don't know why, you aren't sure what it is that keeps you rooted to the spot but something in the back of your mind tells you to be ready.

What you need to be ready for is a mystery.

Watching them is like watching a silent movie without the luxury of subtitles, a silent, action movie where the two men are about to have a showdown to try and win the girl. Even though the girl can’t stand one of them. You can see Minho talking, the smirk on his lips colder than the smile you’re used to. It’s not born from laughter and filled with amusement but coming from a darker place. The narrowing of Chris’ eyes shows that whatever Minho is saying is getting to him, irking him enough to show the emotion on his face and you wonder if the two are rivals. You begin to make a whole story up in your head, a narrative to match the show before you and you come up with a plot that puts the two as high school rivals who probably dated the same girl. Maybe they were friends, this is usually where they are best mates and then the other betrays their friend by dating the girl they’re in love with, right? Absolutely. Who did what is unclear but from the way Chris is looking almost murderous, his teeth clenched as he responds and Minho’s shoulders shaking with laughter – you assume Chris was more or less the victim here.

Not that you care or anything.

Minho’s eyes meet yours and you gasp, hand flying over your mouth as his smile widens into a more wolfish grin and he says something that you aren't sure you read right. He speaks slowly, with a purpose, as if he knows you’re trying to read his lips and gather what they are talking about. ‘Maybe I should claim her…’, it makes no sense to you and you’re sure that you are wrong but whatever it was has Chris throwing a punch.

“Oh no!” You gasp, rushing outside. Before Minho can regain his footing, Chris grabs him by the front of his shirt and gets in his face as he starts shouting nonsense. 

“Hey! HEY!” You duck under Chris’ arm and somehow, miraculously, manage to squeeze in between the two bodies so you can push them apart. Felix was already trying to pry the man off your friend, saying that this is what Minho wants and to not let him win but you don't really pay attention to that – to anything being said really – as you’re trying to diffuse the situation as best as you can. “S-t-o-p,” you groan, pushing with all your might against the brick wall of a man in front of you, his pecs rippling as your hands are splayed over the muscles. “Chris–”

“Breaking cover, big guy.” Minho laughs and you try to look over your shoulder to glare at him only to nearly suffocate from Chris’ chest in your face.

“Stop! B-both of you!” Your arms hurt, aching with exertion until finally, you manage to separate them. “Just because I don’t want to talk to you, doesn’t mean you can go around throwing punches at my friend! Brute force isn’t always going to get you what you want!”

“He knows no other way, sugar. He’s a beast,” Minho provokes further, only to have you round on him next.

“You’re just as bad! This isn’t a pissing match!” You don't understand his amusement when he snorts at your comment but you’ve had enough. Your nerves are shot, and your emotions are all over the place simply by being too close to Chris. What was meant to be a day where you wouldn’t think about what he said and how it made you feel afterward has ended up turning to shit because now you’re just confused by him! “Whatever issues you two have with each other, leave me out of it!” You throw your hands up in exasperation and resignation before stomping away.

“Sugar,” Chris calls your name, causing your hand to hover over the door handle, “I do need to talk to you about what–”

“Come by tomorrow. You’ll have five minutes and then I never want to speak to you again.” You slam the door behind you, walk immediately into the kitchen, and announce you’re signing off for the day, leaving Serena stunned at the sudden change in her younger sister’s mood.

You lay in bed, tossing and turning as the music plays softly through the speaker, barely drowning out any of the thoughts that are keeping you from resting peacefully. Your body has been on high alert ever since you saw Chris yesterday, your mind distorting the male aggression as some sort of romance novel moment and causing you to feel conflicted about what it is that you want – what it is that you want to do.

Minho has been great company but since seeing him push Chris’ buttons, you don't really want to be around him right now until these feelings, this flurry of emotions that you don't understand, have dissipated and you can think clearly. You’re angry at Chris, angry at Minho, and whenever you think about either of them that anger begins to amplify and you want to scream, or hit something, which is unlike you, and that results in you feeling overwhelmed and unable to trust yourself behind the counter.

How can you serve customers with your usual charm when you can barely bring yourself to appreciate the warmth of the sun?

Rolling over onto your back, you sigh and reach for your phone to turn the volume up before staring at the ceiling. One song blends into another and you close your eyes, welcoming the sudden calm that settles your racing mind as you focus on the music rather than your life. You’re trying not to think about that night, the one that has caused you a lot of anguish over the past week or so but you can’t help certain memories that begin to stir and the way your body heats up as you remember.

The conflict you feel; oh, it rushes to the front of your mind but for the first time since that night, it doesn’t push away the way he made you feel. While the whole Alpha male bullshit isn’t exactly the greenest flag in a man; there’s something about the possessiveness he displayed, the need to own you, to make sure nobody else could touch you that sent a thrill through your mind. The way his touch caused electricity to rush through you and the high it gave you. 

You swear it’s Cloud Nine.

Was it wrong to want more? Was it wrong to want to know what his body felt like hovering above yours, the way his abs would tense or muscles would ripple as he took you? Was it wrong to think about how those sinful lips would feel tracing over your navel before dipping low? Was it wrong to hate him and everything he is but also wanting his fingers to be the ones slipping under your shirt?

A shuddered breath leaves you, fist curling on your stomach before it can travel further down your body. As you reach the waistband of your panties, you groan because what are you doing? “He’s such a fucking asshole,” you try to remind yourself, remembering everything that Chris has done since you met and comparing it to the biggest asshole you could. You swore that you would never go for a man like that again and you were just about to touch yourself at the thought of him?

Are you really that desperate or do you have an underlying degradation kink that you’re pretending doesn’t exist?

Desperate. That’s what it is. Desperation and terrible taste in men.

“Why are the hot ones always so… messy?” you mutter to yourself, closing your eyes and trying to push away any and all thoughts of Chris – only to fail miserably. He’s invading every thought, even if you’re trying to think about anything, everything else, he’s pushing his way into your mind like he owns the space. With every thought comes a wave of lust, hate, and hurt all mixed into one and while those words he said rush through your mind, it seems your body wants the exact person you shouldn’t.

Him.

You shouldn’t want him as badly as you do right now, the tingling sensation between your legs shouldn’t even exist when that man makes himself known in your mind but it seems that what your brain knows – your body disagrees with. You close your eyes, trying to win the war within yourself but as you try to convince yourself that this is wrong, your hand makes its way down your body, tracing over your skin, from hip to hip before teasing under your waistband. The anticipation and war going on is making you rather impatient. “I hate him,” you whisper, licking your lips as you suck in slightly and push down your panties.

A scene begins to play. A twisted scene that only seems to blur reality. You lean against the counter, hips swaying from side to side as Chris walks around behind you and places large hands on your hips. “Stop teasing me,” he growls into your ear, grinding himself against your ass and you only lean forward even more, pushing back against him.

Fingers brush over your pubic area, making their way lower towards your pulsating heat that’s starting to ache the more you give in. “I bet you love a good tease, don’t you?” Your voice is soft, trying to keep anyone from hearing you. As if there’s anyone else in the apartment. Swallowing thickly, you lightly tap on your clit to send a shiver down your spine, as if testing to make sure that this is what you want to be doing. “You probably think all this back and forth is foreplay.”

You know you’ll never get an answer but for right now, as you pull your hand back out of your panties to suck on your fingers so that you can resume your little fantasy, you have the perverted idea of him answering for you. “Isn’t it?” You can hear the smirk on those sinful lips of his as hands travel up your back and down again to spank your ass, “it seems to turn you on.” Oh, you’re so glad that he doesn’t know this or that he can’t read your thoughts because wouldn’t he use this against you?

Probably but he can go and fuck himself.

Just like you’re about to.

Rubbing your clit slowly, you build up to it, wanting to take your time with this to make sure you’re relieving all your stress… until…

“Hey, I’m here to talk to Sugar,” Chris walks into the bakery when he knows it's closing, having thought that he would see her the moment he walks in – only to have Serena glaring at him. He knows that the sister would know all about him, isn’t that the whole point of siblings? To have them hate the people you hate? He can practically smell the resentment rolling off in waves as he stands in front of the counter and looks into the kitchen window, thinking maybe she decided to hide from him. “Is she here?”

“What do you want to talk to her about?” The questioning, slightly disapproving tone doesn’t surprise him considering what he’s done but it doesn’t mean Chris’ eye won’t twitch in response.

Deep breaths, he tells himself, trying to keep calm. “I have some explaining to do-”

“Yeah, you do.”

He tries to let that slide. “I asked her yesterday if we could talk and thought it would be best to wait until she had finished for the day.” Serena hums in agreement, nodding her head and Chris sighs because this is starting to annoy him. Sure, he deserves this but still, can she let up on the fucking protectiveness considering she’s allowing her to hang out with a sociopath like Minho. “So, where is she?”

“Upstairs.” Oh, wow, such a great indicator. Serena then waves her hand in a general direction, “Go through the kitchen and out the back, there’s a set of stairs that go to our apartment. Her bedroom door is the one on the left, she might be napping or screaming into her pillow so make sure you have some manners and knock.” Chris’ jaw ticks and he narrows his dark eyes to meet Serena’s who matches his energy without backing down.

She’d make a good Alpha if she was a wolf.

Knocking twice on the counter as he takes his leave, he follows her directions with a quick nod of his head and a passing ‘thanks’. The wolf doesn’t want to have to talk to her any longer than he has to because if she is pissed off with him already, he doesn’t want to have to give her another reason to throw him out the moment she sees him. It’s fairly straightforward, getting into their place and Chris hates how anyone could walk in here even if they are downstairs. “Don’t they have any form of security?” he mutters to himself as he walks through the apartment and notices the decorations around the room.

Colourful. That’s the only thing he can think of that doesn’t sound like he hates it all. The way the rooms are splashed with colour, there’s happiness oozing out of every photo he looks at as he walks around, clutter from various hobbies litter the walls and any surface that they can sit on including being spread over the coffee table because someone didn’t clean up after themselves. The way that their home is everything that he isn’t, the complete opposite of the way he keeps his space, and it makes him wonder how the world could think that they would be a good match.

Opposites attract, isn’t that what they say? Maybe it was because he needed the spontaneous behaviour of her, the laughter, and light while she needed the security and structure that Chris could provide her with.

Whatever. He can deal with that thought process another time.

“The room on-”

“I bet you love a good tease, don’t you?”

Chris freezes as his hand hovers over the door handle, sucking in a deep breath when he hears her soft voice whispering sinfully over the music on the other side. Does she have a guest? No… he would have smelled someone else the moment he stepped inside. His mind starts to race, trying to figure out what is going on when a wave of arousal rushes through him, hitting him like a truck before he has time to realise what is going on.

It’s not that he hadn’t been thinking about it as he was walking up the stairs, it’s not like he hadn’t been thinking about it the entire drive to the bakery, but Chris is almost always horny – it’s the practised self control that keeps him in check most of the time. He hadn’t even thought about how the arousal could have been coming through his mate, as weak as the link currently is, intense emotions can still make themselves known and whatever she is feeling – or doing – is intense enough to have Chris thinking about something he shouldn’t be right now.

“You probably think all this back and forth is foreplay.” Ah fuck, she’s masturbating. No wonder. Running his fingers through his short, black hair, Chris inhales deeply, trying to get his mind into the right place but it seems that her pleasure has started to increase which means his dick is now painfully tight in his pants.

Fuck, if that door opens now…

Lifting his hand up, closing his eyes, and steadying himself, Chris gives the painted white door a few raps of his knuckles and all he’s met with is “oh, fuck off!” and the sound of shuffling as she gets up to open up the door. Taking a small step back, the wolf takes a deep breath in preparation for the scent that is about to hit him with full force. “What is- What do you want?” The words come out harsher than she wanted them to, he can tell by the shock on her face as she says them, but she holds firm as she glares at him.

Her legs are bare, the old t-shirt that she’s wearing being pulled down to cover up her core but it also draws more attention to her chest, nipples standing out against the grey band tee and begging to be pinched. 

The moment Chris opens his mouth, he knows he’s going to lose his breath and mind but with the look of pure annoyance on her face, it’s not like he can not say anything. “You said to come when you finished. Your sister said that you were up here and let me find my own way in.”

“You couldn’t have waited just five more minutes?” She groans, squeezing her thighs together and shuffling in place.

Oh fuck, he knows he shouldn’t. He knows that he really shouldn’t make a comment but how can he not when it’s right there? “Five minutes? You give in too quickly, Sugar, ever heard of delayed gratification?” Her lips part in surprise at his words and she takes a step back into her room while Chris now steps forward to block the door frame. Strong arms fold over his chest, his black sleeveless tee pulled tight over the muscles, as he leans against it and looks her up and down, breathing in the sweet scent saturating the room. He’s meant to be here to talk about things, to clear the air and make sure that she’s aware of the danger that she’s getting herself into by hanging out with Minho. He’s meant to be strong and tell her to steer clear for her own safety while also telling her everything about what he is.

He’s meant to… but haha, like fuck is he going to be thinking about that right now.

“You were really going to get off when we are meant to be having a talk?” He tilts his head, dark eyes running over her legs and pausing at the hem of her shirt that’s still clutched tightly in her hands. “Were you thinking about me?”

Scoffing, she looks away, cheeks flushing red and heartbeat picking up as she shakes her head. “Why would I think about you?” She narrows her eyes when she looks back at him. “It was a mistake, right?”

Those words are like a slap to the face. Deserved, sure, and the guilt that sits deep within his gut knows that he should back away right now before something happens but this is what they are, right? Gunpowder and a match ready to explode. Chris can’t help it, can’t help himself because he loves the fight, the way she doesn’t back down even when it’s against her nature to be confrontational, he loves the way he gets under her skin while she makes her way into his every waking thought.

The silence only adds to the tension building, the way their eyes are locked on each other, the air around them growing thicker as Chris pushes off from the door frame and walks deeper into the bedroom. The door closes with a soft click that is almost drowned out by the way her heartbeat hammers against her chest, the thumping matched by Chris’ own racing heart. With every step forward Chris takes, she retreats until the back of her legs hits the bed and her hand is placed on his chest to keep him at a distance. His eyes glance down, the muscles in his jaw tensing as she swallows thickly and takes shallow breaths while thinking about what to say.

“You-you’re here to talk.” Her voice quivers as she tries to take control of the situation.

Nodding, Chris answers with a low, “Yes.”

His hand reaches for her, wrapping around her and pulling her closer so that their chests are now pressed together, her hand trapped between them. Fuck, have her lips always looked that decadent, that kissable? He can’t remember but he’s noticing them now. Leaning closer, he focuses on them, the tip of his nose gently brushing against hers. “Th-then, we should talk.” 

“You weren’t a mistake,” Chris whispers against her lips, feeling her gasp.

“What?”

“I said, you weren’t a mistake.” He continues tracing his nose gently over her cheek, inhaling her scent which is tainted with her arousal. How easy would it be to take her right now… if he was an uncivilised beast.

He can feel her resisting, trying not to give in as if he’s in the mood to give her any more answers right now. Chris wants her, he wants her to give into the way their hearts are beating in time with each other, the way electricity is thrumming through their veins and making every nerve in his body come to life with her close to him. Sure, he should do the smart thing and talk to her, tell her what is going on, what has happened, and give her the chance to decide whether she wants to even fall into this world.

However, he doesn’t want to give her the chance to run. Well… not in that sense at least.

“Chris…” she breathes out softly, her breath fanning over his face.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters, lips parting as he tangles his fingers in her hair, gripping the locks to keep her in place. “Say my name again, just like that.” It is barely a moan, barely a sound of arousal but the way she shivers at the deep, low sound that vibrates through his chest only amplifies why they would not be talking until they were done.

“We should talk… Chris…” That’s his girl. The way she said his name went straight to the growing erection making itself known against her stomach as his lips crashed against hers. Their bodies will do the talking more than anything else, he’ll claim her when she reaches her high, and when they are wrapped up in their own little world, coming down from the clouds, he will tell her everything.

He lowers her to the bed, hovering over her as their tongues caress, while he rolls his hips and grinds his erection against her. There’s a whimper before her hands reach down to pull up the hem of her shirt and Chris pulls away to remove it completely, wanting to see her in her entirety, seeing the healing mark on her neck, faint due to it being incomplete. “You left quite a mark,” She mutters softly as a hand raises to touch it before Chris gently grabs her hand so his lips can trace along the discoloured skin instead.

Kisses are peppered along her shoulder, wet kisses left as his lips move up her neck, along her jawline until he reaches her lips again. His mind is telling him to take it slow, to revel in the feel of her body, in the sight of her beneath him but there’s that voice in his head that tells him that gentle is not his forte – that she would look even better with her legs over his shoulders as he fucks his knot into her. “Ah-” A hiss passes through his teeth as she giggles against his lips, her hand pulling him out of his thoughts… and pants. “Couldn’t wait, huh?”

A simple shrug of the shoulders is the only answer he’ll get as she starts to stroke his cock while his hips move on their own. He closes his eyes, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself as she moves her hips so that as he thrusts into her hand, his cock is so fucking close to sliding through her slick cunt. The tip is hitting her clit and causes sweet shivers of pleasure to rush through her body, causing that heady scent of arousal to almost suffocate him. God, he wants her, he wants her right now and does not want to wait any longer.

He’s barely started and he can’t stand it.

It doesn’t take very long for Chris to practically tear his shirt from his body, his pants dropping to the floor shortly after before he’s back onto you and sliding his hard dick into your very needy core. “Fuck,” you moan, tilting your head back as he starts to lick and nip at your exposed throat, adding to the stimulation that is currently causing your body to feel extremely sensitive.

That electricity that you always feel when you’re with Chris, that same sensation that coursed through your body when you danced at the party comes rushing through you and makes everything heightened. Your bodies are perfectly in tune with each other even though it makes zero sense as to why they are. There’s no explanation as to why you two fit so perfectly, why you feel so content and full with him stretching you out with each thrust, there’s no reason why it should feel so fucking good when everything about the two of you is so wrong!

You hate each other, or that’s what you keep telling yourself because if you really hated him, those words that he said wouldn’t have affected you as much, would they? You’d have agreed and felt that way too.

Thoughts soon leave your mind as Chris’ thrusts start to get faster, deeper; the sound of skin hitting skin echoes through the room, mixed with low grunts and the soft begging for more. “Don’t stop.” Your arms wrap around him, nails scratching down his back and causing Chris to growl as he keeps up the pace, hitting that sweet spot repeatedly. You can feel it building, you can feel it in the way your body moves in time, trying to reach that high that you’ve been desperately needing to help your body relax – to help your mind relax. His head is buried into your neck just as the crashing waves of ecstasy wash over your being, your back arching as a scream leaves you due to the intensity… and the pain. Your eyes are watering as Chris doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm with his teeth penetrating your skin, drawing blood. It should be unbearable but mixed with the immense pleasure you’re currently feeling as he continues to hit that spot, not slowing down in the slightest as he chases his own end – it only heightens your pleasure even more.

“More, please, Chris, more.” 

He pulls back slightly to look down at you, eyes glowing for a brief moment before fading and you put it down to a trick of the light, your imagination, rather than the thought that sounds in the back of your mind. 

“I need more, please.”

He stills for a moment, closing his eyes as he listens to your begging for him as if it’s the best thing he’s ever heard. “Fuck, how can I deny you when you sound so good?~.”

Without warning, Chris pulls out and you whine at the loss of him, walls fluttering around nothing as if being empty is a crime. He moves quickly so that he’s standing and you finally manage to glance at the man in all his glory. You’ve never been superficial with looks, while your partners have always been attractive to your standards; your sister and friends may have thought otherwise, but Chris? Now, he’s a specimen they would approve of – if he wasn’t such an asshole.

Not only does he have the height that makes him perfect to grab the top of the door frame and tower over you but he also has the build of a god. His muscles were noticeable in those t-shirts that you had seen him in but to see them, to be able to trace your fingers along the veins of his arms and over his rippling abdomen, is something else entirely. Standing before you, dark eyes hungry for you, jaw tense as if holding himself back, Chris wraps his large hands around your ankles and pulls your ass to the edge of the bed. You figure you could look past the attitude that he has if it means forgetting your name every night and only calling out his.

That’s simply your horny brain talking, though.

“Turn over, ass up in the air,” Chris instructs as he effortlessly flips you onto your stomach and grips your hips to help lift your ass up to the perfect height to take you. Once in position and with no warning, he pushes in and the thrust alone has your body lurching forward before you can even prepare yourself. “Fuck, you really are perfect.” Those words are muttered under his breath as he starts fucking you at an unbelievably fast pace that has your brain shortcircuiting and fists gripping the sheets. You’re not even sure if you had heard him correctly but you can’t get a word out to ask.

You can tell he’s getting close by the urgency in his thrusts, in the way he’s holding onto your hips so harshly that you’ll definitely have bruises afterward. Sweat lightly coats both of your bodies as exertion sets in and you can feel yourself building up to another orgasm before Chris pulls you up by the shoulder so your back is against his heaving chest. “I’m going to-”

“I know,” Chris grunts into her ear, “so am I.” Wrapping one arm around your chest to hold you into place, his other hand finds her clit and starts rubbing it in circles, slowly building up to a pace that has you flailing in his arms. “Don’t hold back, princess, fuck, let go for me. That’s a good girl.” He whispers the sweetest encouragement into your ear before kissing the sensitive bite mark he left behind. “Lose yourself, Sugar, I’ll keep you right here~.”

It all happens too fast for your brain to register, to even comprehend what happens as your orgasm hits you hard. All you know is that his fingers won’t stop as you’re stretched impossibly full, white bursts behind your eyes as your body goes limp in his arms and Chris’ teeth hold you in place as a low, primal growl sounds deep in his chest. Everything happened too fast, was far too much for your body and mind, that consciousness starts slipping away from you as Chris carefully moves the two of you so that you are both lying on the bed, awkwardly wrapped up in a blanket.

“Ah, I guess I went too hard on you, Sugar.” A soft kiss is pressed against your cheek, “We’ll talk when you wake up, hm?” You try to respond, only for it to sound like incoherent gibberish. “Sshh now, go to sleep.”

When you wake up, your body feels sated and oddly warm considering you’re naked and under a sheet. As you try to move, needing to get some water, you find yourself unable to move due to the arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to the softly snoring man next to you. “Oh–,” you gasp.

“Don’t seem so surprised,” Chris whispers, eyes still closed as he pulls you close and buries his face into your neck, taking deep inhales while subtly scenting you. “How are you feeling?”

The gentle way he speaks, thumb caressing the skin of your hip as he holds you in place, is a complete contradiction to the last time the two of you were intimate. Maybe it’s because this time it was different, neither of you were in an intoxicated state and in the bathroom while everyone was partying, maybe it’s because… because what? Nothing has changed, right? Not for you, at least that’s what you tell yourself but even if you say the words in your head, your body settles into him and you close your eyes again. You find yourself unable to think about how this should be wrong because everything feels right, feels like the world finally makes sense even if you’re so confused.

Terribly and utterly confused, but content.

“Don’t go back to sleep, little one.” Chris kisses your shoulder, causing you to wince slightly as his tongue drags over the mark he’s left behind. “We still need to talk.”

Groaning, you pull the blanket up so that you could snuggle back in, ignoring him. “Later.” A deep chuckle vibrates against your back as the arm under your head moves as Chris pulls away. “Can’t you just let me have this?” You roll onto your back as the male sits up, his broad, muscular back on the receiving end of your glare, “I think I deserve as much since last time, you made me cry.” Chris’ head lowers as he sighs and turns slightly so he can look at you, an unreadable expression on his face before the male completely faces you and relents. Moving over, you let Chris lay down beside you so you can cuddle into his side with your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. “You can talk while I lay like this.”

“So bossy.” There’s an air of amusement in his tone. Chris combs his fingers through your hair, trying to tidy up your bed head as he tries to figure out where to begin. “How do I begin…” He hums in thought before you look up at him with a furrow between your brow.

“You could start with an apology.”

Lifting a hand to smooth out the wrinkles in your brow, Chris licks his plump lips, “I did what I did to protect you.” You roll your eyes as you shove at his side to show that you’re not impressed at all. “Ah, alright, Sugar. I’m sorry for making you cry. I’m sorry for trying to push you away – but I’m not sorry for this.” His fingers trace around the mark before tilting your head up to kiss you. A simple indulgence, something he doesn’t often take for himself but he thought that he better get it out of his system now before those lips distract him any further.

“I told you that you had five minutes,” you say against his lips as you part and Chris chuckles and shakes his head, your bossy attitude is amusing, adorable. “So, you better start talking.”

“Will you always ruin the mood like this?” You growl and if only you knew how that affected him, you’d think he’s primitive. “Since I only have five minutes, I think it’s best to tell you straightforward – I’m a werewolf.” You snort, pulling back to look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I could tell that you were my mate, someone picked for me that’ll make me a better wolf, a better man – a better everything really. However, I don’t want– didn’t want,” he corrects himself, “a mate at all. While you’d make me stronger, you’d also be my weakness and considering you’re human and have lived in sweet ignorance of the world around you, I wanted to keep it that way.”

You remain quiet, listening, face devoid of any reaction but it’s clear that you’re not buying a word of what he’s saying.

“I couldn’t stop myself from being around you, I couldn’t keep away because I’m drawn to you so I thought that the best thing to do was have you hate me; if I could push you away and have you think the worst of me then I wouldn’t have to deal with protecting you.” Yeah, he’s not really helping himself. “The way it feels when we are together, how right it feels,” he emphasises his words by trailing his fingers over your skin, “that’s all a part of the bond that forms between mates and no matter how hard I tried – fuck, I couldn’t keep away.” He dips down to capture your lips again and your mind jumbles with all the racing thoughts. You’re annoyed, honestly, you’re kind of pissed but when he pulls away and continues to speak, you’re also melting inside and finding that Chris is really, really pretty when he talks.

Maybe that’s the wrong adjective for him because hot, sexy and fuckable are better but as you zone out a little, his story sounding weird and farfetched, you stare at his lips and think about how they feel against yours.

Blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name, back story stuff…

“Minho is going to try and use you against me. You need to stay away from him.” You finally tune back in as Chris comes to the end of his story. You’re not going to admit that you heard nothing more after he kissed you but anger bubbles up in your chest as seconds tick by and he hasn’t laughed or played this off as a joke.

Is he serious? “Are you serious?”

“You think he’s your friend but he’s using you, Sugar. He’s only going to hurt you.”

Pulling away from him, you grab your pillow and throw it at him while frantically looking around your room for your shirt so that you can cover up. Asshole doesn’t get to see you naked… again! “If anyone is going to hurt me, Chris, it’s you.” You ache a little, body still recovering from earlier, “not only did you bite me, twice, I might add but you called me a mistake. You made me feel like an idiot because of the whole situation with your credit card – which you handled like a fucking child. You have done nothing but make me angry and upset and- and- and you made up this whole stupid werewolf, ‘if I’m with you, it’ll be bad’, toxic male, shitty story to try and justify your awful and nasty attitude. I’ve read books with that exact plot and you’re acting just like they did which is infuriating.” You take a deep breath, shoulders heaving slightly. You don't know if you’re making sense, you don't know what you’re saying as you back away and try not to trip over anything on the floor. Everything starts to feel overwhelming and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes which only makes you more annoyed. “Then you try to turn me against my friend? If you are that worried about Minho, maybe you should, I don’t know – treat me like I actually matter to you!”

Chris sits up, looking incredibly calm for someone who is being called a liar and an ass. “Sugar,” he says softly and you feel a wave of calm wash over you which has you feeling even more agitated. “I will show you how you should be treated. I’m sorry I fucked up, I was set in my ways and–”

“Get out.” You are as far as physically possible from Chris inside the small room but it doesn’t help anything at all. Looking at him, being in the same room as him, you even smell like him, it all messes with your head and the only way for you to be able to think clearly is if he’s not there. “I– You’ve said what you needed to say and now, you need to go.” Your voice is shaky, filled with the mixture of emotions rushing through you and contradicting each other. The boiling anger mixes with waves of calm, the pain is being soothed by the gentle caress of feeling safe and this need to cry is battling against your want to hide in his chest.

You don't realise it but the bond created between you two has snapped into place and while your mind is screaming, being near your mate brings a sense of ease which really isn’t helping. In fact, it’s making it worse.

Chris doesn’t move, not right away, and you don't ask again as you gather his clothes and toss them onto the bed. The air grows heavy, suffocating you while Chris dresses and reaches for you, his wolf practically screaming in his head to comfort his mate, to hold you and make it right but you dodge him. Wrapping your arms tightly around your body, you make yourself small and step away, shaking your head to indicate that you don't want to be touched – least of all, by him. “I’ll call you.” He waits for an answer, anything to show that you haven't completely written him off.

Except it doesn’t come.

“Please don’t. Please just…” The defeat in your voice and the hurt that he can feel from you breaks him a little inside. “Just forget this ever happened.” It’s almost like karma coming to spit in his face. A lone tear falls down your cheek as you look at him and the words he had said to you that night echo in the quiet room. “This was a mistake.”

A few hours had passed before the numbness that had overwhelmed you when Chris left started to fade, when the confusion and upset started to shift into anger and annoyance. You had decided that you weren’t going to sit around and let Chris fuck with your head even more than he already has and what better way to get over it than by ranting about it?

Isn’t venting about a problem to a trusted friend the best way to work through how you feel and move forward from a situation?

Fingers fly over the screen as you type out a message to Minho, needing the only friend you’ve been able to open up to. “You free? I need to debrief before I go insane!”

His reply comes back almost immediately, the words making you smile a little and let out a small huff of a laugh. “Yeah, you want food? It always seems to help your mood.” Oh, he’s so cheeky sometimes but it’s what you’ve come to appreciate about him. His lack of filter and the fact that he’ll tease you so easily and openly helps you to be yourself around him because you believe that he’s himself around you as well.

Oh, how devastated you’ll be when you learn the truth.

You decide to dress nicely, always finding a cute little outfit and some makeup helps you feel better – you’re sure that you’ve read that somewhere, some kind of psychology to trick yourself into feeling good. With your hair in a pretty updo, your favourite necklace adorning your neck and allowing it to sit just above your cleavage, you head out the door to meet Minho at your favourite bar. You’re aware that maybe going to the bar and drinking when you’re feeling the way that you are may not be the best idea but if it got you through your break up – it’ll help you deal with these confusing feelings about Chris, too.

Your friend leans against the building, focusing on his phone for a moment before you call his name and claim his attention. His eyes glance over you, an unreadable expression on his face before it shifts into an easy smile, “You look nice.” Minho pushes off the wall, running a hand through his messy brown hair before opening the door for you. “After you.” He dramatically bows his head which has you laughing lightly, already feeling better than what you did earlier.

Why couldn’t it be him? You wonder to yourself as you make your way to your usual table and Minho goes to order you both some drinks. Why couldn’t it be Minho who makes you feel like the world doesn’t exist when you’re with him? Why couldn’t it be him that causes your mind to wander and feelings to stir in your heart whenever you are around each other – even when you are apart? You sigh softly and shake your head as a slight pang of pain rushes through you, trying to push away the thoughts of how right it felt with Chris earlier. You don't want to think about how much he makes you feel, how the anger, the hate and disdain is only a step away from being happiness, love and amusement if things would stop pushing you away.

If he didn’t push you away.

No, this time it was you. This time, Chris opened himself up and you were the one who practically pushed him out the door.

“Ugh.” You bury your face into your hands and groan, “why is this so weird and messy?”

The soft thud of a full glass sounds in front of you and Minho looks at you curiously as he takes his seat. “What’s got you all worked up?” He pauses and tilts his head with furrow between his brows. “Or should I say, who?”

Holding up a finger, you take a deep, refreshing scull of your beer before placing the half-empty glass down on the table a little more forcefully than you intended. “Well, you see…” without interruption, you dive into a recollection of what happened with Chris – omitting the fact that you were masturbating before he had come around. That piece of information just seems like it’s irrelevant to the story. As you come to what really annoyed you, you look around suspiciously before showing Minho the bite mark he left behind, the wound still tingling slightly. “It’s almost like he thought that this would feed into the crazy story he decided to tell me afterwards! You know, instead of just saying he’s sorry for being an ass…”

Minho doesn’t seem to take his eyes off the mark on your neck, even after you cover it back up, his eyes linger on the spot until you finish off the rest of your drink in one inhale and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Can you believe him? Not only is he trying to say that werewolves exist – he’s talking about you like you’re one of the bad guys!” You pause, waiting for the retort, waiting for Minho to say ‘what an idiot’ or something along those lines but instead, he just stares. Snapping your fingers in front of his face and almost startling Minho out of his thoughts, your annoyance grows even more. “Are you in utter disbelief that it’s left you speechless?”

A soft hum sounds from the back of his throat and he shakes his head. “So, he claimed you as his mate?”

While, at first, you thought Minho meant it in a mocking way, like he’s feeding into the ridiculousness of the story, his serious expression says otherwise. The way his eyes remain on your neck before flickering to yours has you looking a little taken aback. Is he actually asking that like it’s a serious question?

“He bit me like some kind of feral beast.” Minho reaches forward, aiming for the collar of your top but you dodge out of his way, holding onto the table to keep yourself from falling off your chair. “What are you doing?”

“Was it deep? Do you feel anything different?”

“Seriously, Minho. This isn’t funny.”

His eyebrow raises slightly as he looks at you for a moment. It’s as if he’s trying to figure out how to deal with the situation even though, to you, there’s only one way that this should have gone. Whatever he’s decided on seems to shift his demeanour and behaviour drastically because suddenly, the man looks bored. “Have you ever thought about the fact that Chris is telling the truth?”

You let out a short, incredulous laugh. “You’re pulling my leg. Tell me you’re joking.”

“No.” Minho leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest as he watches you. Suddenly, you feel like you’re not safe here. Your eyes flit around the room, body suddenly on edge and searching for a way to get out of the bar and away from the dark aura beginning to surround your friend – or who you thought to be your friend. “I didn’t think he would actually go as far as to claim you completely but,” he reaches forward and you flinch, causing Minho to click his tongue in annoyance, “this works just as good.”

“What do you-”

Leaning forward, Minho gives you a cruel smile. You’ve never seen this look in his eyes before, the amusement of knowing that someone is afraid of him, that you’re afraid of him specifically. It’s like a mask has been lifted and the man before you slowly shifts into a stranger, a stranger that you don't know and should get away from. “I can see the wheels turning in your head, Sugar, I’d recommend that you don’t run away,” he chuckles and your flight or fright reflex gets stuck on freeze at the sound, keeping you from escaping, “predators love the chase, after all.”

This isn’t Minho… this isn’t your friend… or maybe this is who he’s been all this time and you’ve missed the signs. Again.

Chris should be happy, should be able to revel in the fact that he’s claimed his mate, but instead, he’s feeling dejected. He feels like a puppy that has just been kicked. She wants nothing more to do with him and can he really blame her? Can he really say that he doesn’t understand why when all he’s done every since they’ve met is lie and push her away?

That had been his goal and now that it seems he’s gotten what he wanted – he doesn’t want it anymore.

“Give her time,” Felix says, a ball in his hand as he throws it at the wall and catches it when it bounces back. Chris hates it when he does that, breaking the peace with the incessant sound of rubber bouncing off wood, but Felix finds the action and rhythmic sounds helpful when he’s trying to work through a problem – and this is a problem. “For someone who isn’t in the know, or doesn’t believe in the supernatural, having a bomb of information dropped on her like that can be difficult to process.”

“I told her the truth,” Chris groans, running his hand over his face. This shows he’s still fairly young to be an Alpha. As strong and determined as he is, Chris has certain flaws that show his age and his lack of understanding about life. Love and women being two of those things. Sure, he knows about a woman’s body, how to bring pleasure and how to have them falling for him but he hasn’t the faintest idea when it comes to the way their minds work about anything other than sex.

Felix catches the ball, pausing to look at his Alpha for a moment, stunned, before throwing the ball a little harder. “You told her that you’re a werewolf and that you did everything you did because you thought it would be better.” His hard tone causes the Alpha to wince slightly. Being told off by his second-in-command is not exactly something Chris enjoys having to experience, especially when it comes to pointing out his shit. “You then told her that the one person she’s happy around, who doesn’t treat her like shit, and has been her friend, is actually dangerous and will hurt her… when… that’s all you’ve been doing.” The ball is thrown with such force this time that it hurls off target and flies back towards Chris – an accident but it drives his point home.

Managing to catch the ball before it hits him in the face, Chris lets out a low growl of warning, “I get your point.” He passes it back to Felix and stands up, running his fingers through his hair for the umpteenth time, making it messier than usual. “I shouldn’t have gone about it like that, I should have eased her into it.” Looking over at Felix, who is looking at him with his eyebrow raised, has him adding on, “and I should have made things right before going and marking her.”

“You really shouldn’t have marked her at the party.”

“It was a mistake,” he defends himself, tilting his head back and looking at the ceiling before sighing. “Or at least, I think it was.” If he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t know. He really doesn’t know what comes over him when he’s with her. Chris lives for her reactions, her anger, her smile, the heat in her eyes when she looks at him with both lust and annoyance. The Alpha can’t help himself whenever she’s in his sight, in his arms; every time that they are around each other, it’s like a match being struck before the fuse is lit.

Is this how it’s always going to be? He could live with it – as long as she stays by his side.

Chris’ feet are moving before he’s even aware of it, hands snatching his keys from the bowl by the door. “Where are you going?” Felix calls out, scrambling to his feet in case he needs to follow.

“I need to figure out how to make this right.” The door is closed behind him with a soft slam and Felix just stands in the living room, staring at the place where his Alpha just was. Chris knows that he needs to get his emotions under control, he knows he needs to get a handle on things so that he can do better but for so long, he’s denied himself of feeling anything remotely like this out of fear of what it’ll do to him. Now that he’s found her, his mate, he’s navigating the uncharted territory of his heart and there’s no telling what will happen from this point on.

All Chris knows is that he needs to make it up to her, to make sure she doesn’t keep her walls up with him and show her that this – their relationship – can work. Unconventional, sure, but something that’s been predestined before either of them knew what love was.

Everything is loud. Too loud. People are talking but they sound like they are underwater… fuck, why does your head hurt? Where are you? How did you get here?

You groan, lifting a hand to touch your throbbing head which causes those around you to stop talking and look over at you trying to sit up. Oh no, don’t do that. Your head feels like it weighs a tonne, neck made of rubber as you struggle to lift it so giving up, you curl up on the rough bed that you’re laying on. You know you’re on a bed because of the squeaky springs as you struggle to get comfortable.

Why does it feel like you’re coming down from a six-day bender?

A wave of emotions run through you, fear being the most prominent when you hear your name being spoken by the figures standing in the shadows, one of the voices being far too familiar to be something you’re making up. No. No, you must be out of it and making things up, distorting reality to try and make sense of what is going on. The way he says your name again, he sounds so comfortable, caressing each syllable like it was made to be spoken by his tongue but you know that the Devil isn’t as sweet as he sounds.

No matter how good it feels to have his attention – coming down from the high is not worth it. You learned that the hard way.

They still stay hidden, even though you can tell that one of the two is Minho, it has to be considering the last thing you remember is him smirking at you as you stood up and tried to escape. You don’t know how you got into this position, how you became the bait in the trap designed to catch a dangerous creature but all you know is that you don’t want to be here and no matter how lovely, how kind and caring and sweet you are – you’re not going to sit here and be silent about this.

Looking around, you try to see if you can find a window so you can figure out where you are but the windows are boarded up, keeping you from the outside world. There is no outside noise for your ears to pick up; you cannot hear cars or anything that would indicate you’re in town or near a public area, and this sends shivers down your spine. “Are you going to kill me?” your voice quivers slightly as it dawns on you that nobody, absolutely nobody, would be looking for you. Serena thinks you’re out with Minho, who is here as your kidnapper and Chris, well, you told him where to go and never look back so even if his whole story was true – why would he come to your rescue? You’re alone. Again. With nobody to save you.

Minho sighs, stepping into the light and making his way towards you. “Stop,” you shuffle away from him but don't manage to get far before he grabs your feet and pulls you close. “Let me untie you, Sugar.”

“Why am I here, Minho?” You question, hoping maybe there was something about your friendship that was real and would result in him feeling guilty enough to let you in on the reason as to why this is happening.

“Because you make him weak.” While he’s trying to seem indifferent as he loosens the ropes enough for you to remove it yourself, you can tell there’s a hint of emotion lingering under the surface. A faint hint that your friendship hasn’t been a lie this entire time. “Chris. You make him weak.”

It’s hard to believe, not just that Minho would betray you in such a way but that he would play along with what Chris is saying. It’s clear that they don’t like each other so there is no reason for Minho to feed into it – unless there are such things as werewolves and that you’re somehow mated to one. Though, you don’t exactly want to believe it. Even if it becomes the only possible reason, you want to believe that there is something else going on – like maybe this is all a joke. Right? Some kind of sick joke that they are all playing on you. Shaking your head, denying reality, you laugh in disbelief as you rub your aching wrists, trying to relieve the uncomfortable feeling. “That makes no sense. You’re not making any sense,” you mumble, not looking at Minho or his companion still in the shadows, watching.

“I told you that she wouldn’t believe it. She’s always been a little stubborn like that. No matter how she seems on the surface, sweet little Sugar is as fucking stubborn as they come.” The voice has your entire body tensing before you even look in his direction and see his face.

“Theo.” That one word, his name, is said with a mixture of confusion, hurt, anger and a sense of familiarity. Why wouldn’t it? You dated him, this was the man who broke your heart and made you vow that you would never allow another man to have that kind of power over you again. You changed after him, in a way that took away the naivety that you used to cling to. You have always been sweet but Theo was the reason that you became a little jaded when it came to falling in love with someone again.

You kept that a fantasy for your fictional men. Men who cannot disappoint, who cannot hurt, who cannot lie and make you feel like you’ve made a mistake for entrusting your heart to them.

“Hello, Sugar.” Theo grins in that way that would make any woman drop to their knees. He’s always been good at that, using his sex appeal, his looks to get what he wants and it’s one of the reasons you ended up in the situation you did. 

Stalking closer, each step towards you making your heart race faster, until he’s standing in front of you, Theo watches your reactions with amusement. He can see your pulse fluttering against the skin of your neck, smell the anger mix with fear as you look up at him with contempt in your eyes. All of this causes him to chuckle as he leans closer. “Thought you’d take a little longer than this to get over me, sweetheart.”

His words have you lashing out, slapping him before moving away to avoid any form of retaliation. “It didn’t take me long to get over you when I realised that you weren’t worth the pain and the tears. You weren’t worth the sleepless nights, the longing, or holding onto,” you spit out, having gotten off the bed and kept the furniture between them.

The man chuckles, his cheek red from where you had managed to connect, a solid hit, at least. Shaking his head, Theo stands up straight and looks you up and down with his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek, almost like he’s openly checking you out and admiring your fire. “I made you fierce, pretty. Who knew you would be such a turn on with a mouth like that?” Theo smirks darkly, eyes flashing gold before a sharp set of fangs start to grow before your eyes. “Here I thought I’d take you back, come and chase you down for one last hurrah but instead you went and got claimed by the very person I’ve been trying to kill.” His voice is deeper, more guttural than before and you can’t help the strong sense of fear rushing through you, “So, now I’ve got a different use for you. Sorry, Sugar, this will hurt you just as much as it did when I broke your heart.” His face drops and you know his guilt is false, a façade, just like everything else that he is. “Maybe more, if Minho’s recount is anything to go by.”

At the mention of his name, you look over at the other man, whose eyebrows furrow for a brief moment. There’s a flash of pain that rushes across otherwise unperturbed features. It’s like the mere mention of whatever hurt him is enough to bring it to the surface only for him to bury it deep once more. “You going to evil villain monologue or are we going to send word to the Alpha that we have his mate?” Minho’s tone gives a clear indication that Theo and him are not friends.

Suddenly in front of you, Theo reaches forward quickly, catching you by surprise and forces you to look at him. There’s an amused glint in his eyes, enjoying the way you struggle against his hold. “I don’t know. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, maybe I should play with her for a little bit before letting him know.” He can hear the way your heart races faster, the smell of fear growing stronger as you begin to think about what he could mean by that. “I’m a beast, not a monster, Sugar. I’m just saying we should catch up before Chris comes and fights for you.”

“Stop talking like that. He’s got no reason to come.” It hurts to talk, the way he’s holding your jaw is tight and makes it hard to move in any way he doesn’t allow. “I told him to leave me alone. If you have issues with him then maybe you should take it up with him instead of kidnapping me.”

A small scoff sounds from Minho as he walks over and pulls at the collar of your shirt, revealing the mark that Chris had left behind earlier. It still aches slightly, not as much as you thought it would have considering the size and how deep his teeth seemed to go, but it mostly tingles more than anything else. “It doesn’t matter what you said to him, Sugar. Werewolves are loyal to their mates, their bond is stronger than anything you could possibly imagine. No matter how much you want to deny it – there will never be anyone who will love you the way Chris will.”

Isn’t that something you always wanted? You wanted to be loved like the books you read. You want someone to be so obsessed with you that they cannot think straight when you’re not around, as toxic as that sounds. You have always wondered what it would be like to have someone who would do everything for you, that would care for you if you couldn’t care for yourself, who would pull you away from life if it was getting too much, someone who would know you so well that you’d never have to ask – they’d just do it because they could see it on your face. Those are standards that only your books can live up to because no man will ever be that perfect – especially when he’s done and said the things Chris has. How could you possibly believe what Minho is saying when Chris called you a mistake… though, he did say that doing so was a mistake… but that’s not the point, is it? It’s the fact that he still said it and if he can say something like that, what else can he say that he’ll end up regretting?

You don’t know if you can even allow yourself to let him close enough to see whether they are telling you the truth or not.

Seemingly bored with you, Theo gives you one more look over, darkness shrouding his face as the sun begins to sink – or you think it does – before turning on his heel and leaving the room. Minho takes a little longer to leave you, giving you a hoodie to put on so that you don't get cold, and without another word, he follows after. They leave you alone once more, in a place you don't know and with two people who you clearly don't know even though you thought you did.

Guess it’s true what they say; you really don’t know the people around you.

Wrapping yourself up, knees pulled up to your chest with your arms holding them close, you tucks your chin into your chest and rests your forehead against your knees, tears starting to silently trickle down your cheeks. You don't know what will happen to you. There’s no guarantee that you’ll get out of here alive… no, you need to keep hoping that you’ll be okay. They don’t want you. They want Chris. Maybe if they get what they want then they’ll let you go… maybe…

“Why did this have to happen to me?”

Laying on his bed, shirtless, with one hand resting on his abdomen and the other behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling, Chris feels tension and anxiety rush through his body. He’s been feeling that way for a while now, ever since he left your place, he’s been feeling off and he can’t quite figure out why. He had gone over to try and make things right… again, only to be told that she had gone out with her friend and hasn’t been back since. It makes sense that this piece of information was shared only to have Chris leave the premises because her sister doesn’t like him. It’s obvious Serena doesn’t and he doesn’t blame her. He’s given her no reason to like him but it doesn’t take away the anxiousness that’s got him on edge. 

The Alpha has put it down to the fact that he left her while she was mad, knowing he should have stayed and made her understand that he wouldn’t hurt her again, that she was safe with him. He shouldn’t have left. She didn’t want him there and it wasn’t going to do them any good if he stayed while she was adamant she didn’t want to look at him but he should have done more than just walk out that door feeling good about himself.

God, he’s terrible at this.

Groaning, Chris runs a hand over his face in frustration. He needs to see her, needs to get rid of this anxious feeling so that he can rest before figuring out what to do with Minho and his group of rogues. Not a pack, he refuses to acknowledge them as such, just a group of outcasts who are not wanted by anyone.

Almost anyone. Fuck sakes, why did she have to like him? That’s only complicating an already complicated matter.

Chris doesn’t want to hurt Minho, he doesn’t want to have to go down that route if he doesn’t have to. It’s already hard enough when the rogue used to be a part of his pack, his beta, fuck, more than that, Minho was his best friend; add in the fact that she is attached to him now as well, it makes Chris’ head hurt just thinking about how he’s going to go about this. Minho challenged him, he’s wormed his way into his mate’s life and has been pushing all of Chris’ buttons ever since he stepped back onto the territory – there’s no way that this is going to go down well when there’s only two ways that the challenge can end.

Either he wins or Minho backs out.

Will she understand that? God, this is much more complicated when he has to think about how this is going to affect her. It was easier when he only had to think about what he wanted, what he felt and how things were going to affect him and his pack, now he has to take someone else into consideration – someone who isn’t like him. “Fuck.” Chris feels a headache building right behind his eyes. It’s been creeping up on him for a while now, it’s been lingering there, manageable until he started to think about the whole mess that he’s in.

His phone sounds on the bedside table, the vibration sounding sharper than usual with the impending ache in his skull. Yeah, it’s going to be a doozy. Reaching over and turning his head to see the name on the screen, a sign that he would ignore it if he could, Chris’ brow furrows when he doesn’t recognise the number. He’s saved everyone who needs his number, he even has her number saved on his phone, nobody outside the pack has his number so…

[TEXT] <- Who is this?

He responds to the ominous ‘hi’ and watches as the three dots start and stop multiple times. His jaw clenches, an obvious indicator that he’s annoyed, as he watches the dots disappear once more. “Oh, for fuck sakes.” He grumbles, starting to type a message about where he thinks they can take their bullshit before a picture comes through. A picture that has fingers freezing over the letters. A picture that sends him into a state.

It’s a picture of her, with her back to the camera, curled up in the foetal position on a disgusting and thin mattress, wearing a hoodie that’s bigger than her. There’s no sign about where she is, no indication of who has her until a message comes through that answers the question he was just about to ask.

[TEXT] -> Long time, no see, Chris. I heard you like my scraps. I saw the mark you left on her, man, didn’t think you were the type.

He can almost hear the laughter through the message, a way of mocking him, pushing his buttons.

[TEXT] -> If I had known Sugar was going to be an Alpha’s mate, I wouldn’t have broken her heart back in college.

[TEXT] -> But maybe I’ll have you watch me snap her neck instead.

Chris nearly crushes the phone in his hand, teeth clenching so tightly his jaw is hurting but he doesn’t take away the only chance he has at finding out where she is. Who knows what that sicko could do to her if he doesn’t respond.

[TEXT] <- You lay another hand on her and I’ll show you first hand what I did to your brother.

Uncalled for, maybe, but Chris knows that the only way to deal with this type of rogue is to show no fear and give back just as volatile as they give it. There is only one person who would have a death wish to do all of this and Minho’s participation in this whole bullshit challenge makes more sense considering the former beta never cared for power – nor to come back to a pack. He made that clear when he left so it never made any sense why he would challenge Chris in the first place but now… now it all makes sense.

Clearly his words hit a nerve when another picture comes through, a clawed hand gripping her chin and making her look at the camera. Her glare at who is on the other side of the camera makes him proud, she’s showing him no fear; in fact, he knows that look all too well considering that she’s given him that same look of disdain before but there’s more to it – she hates this person. Truly. Deeply. Chris can see it in her eyes. If Theo is telling him the truth then he’s the reason why she came here in the first place.

Maybe before killing him, Chris should thank Theo for bringing his mate to him.

[TEXT] -> Hurry, Alpha. I don’t know how long it’ll take for me to bury my teeth into that pretty throat of hers.

An address is sent through and Chris drops the phone, quickly grabbing his keys before anyone can question what he’s doing or where he’s going. He shouldn’t leave like this, he should make sure that they are aware that their Alpha is going to war but this is his battle to fight. It shouldn’t be like that, he shouldn’t be thinking about it as if he needs to face this alone because there’s no guarantee on how safe she will be if Chris turns up with some of the pack and that’s all he can think about right now.

He cannot risk Theo actually hurting her. He will not do anything to risk her life.

“He’s on his way,” Theo says once he gets a short reply from Chris, throwing the phone to Minho and then looking at you with a cruel smile. They had left you alone for a short while to discuss their evil plan, probably, before deciding to use you as a way to push buttons. “Looks like you actually mean something to him after all.” It’s like he’s mocking you but there’s an undertone of jealousy. You remember how things were when you first started dating, how Theo was so loving and sweet, how you were happy until something happened in his family that caused your once funny and caring boyfriend to turn cold.

You watch him walk out, leaving you alone with Minho once more, and the other wolf sighs as he looks at you. There’s this expression of him wanting to say something, and for the first time that you have known him, he looks almost sorry but when he opens his mouth, you shake your head. “I don’t want to hear it.” Minho closes his mouth again and nods his head before taking his leave, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the gripping fear that has now decided to kick in.

Whatever they have planned, it’s not good. Whatever they have planned, it’s going to hurt Chris, hurt you… maybe, are they planning on killing you both? You hug your knees to your chest again, chin resting on the top as you stare at the boarded up windows and wonder if you should wait. That’s what they always do in the fairytales, right? The princess waits in her tower for her knight in shining armour to come and save her but this isn’t a fairytale. There is no dragon that can be slain and no happily ever after in sight – it’s just Chris on his way to a battle that he cannot win.

Not alone at least.

Stiffening your bottom lip, you refuse to be kept down like Theo did once before. You won’t let him win this time, especially not when your life could literally depend on Chris actually surviving. “There’s got to be something…” you mutter to yourself, climbing off the bed and making your way around the room.

“Come…on.” You grab one of the boards covering the windows and give it a pull with all of your might, gritting your teeth before falling back on your backside with a low ‘oof’ escaping you due to the impact. You look up at the boards again and huffs before turning over and standing up, eyes searching for something that you can use as a leverage. Something that can fit between the small gaps and be used to help pry at least one off. All you need is to see where you are, to know whether you have a chance for escape.

Upon your investigation of the room, you notice one of the metal bars from the bed is broken, almost rusted off and looks over at the door, waiting for someone to walk through to shut you up, before making your way over and deciding that kicking it may be the best way to loosen it. You’re not built for an action movie, you would say you’re more romance-fitting but what are you going to do? Sit around, wait, die? It’s not exactly a fun sounding plan to you.

CLINK! You wince as the arch of your foot meets the metal frame and look over at the door again, pausing, making sure it’s safe before continuing. CLINK! CLINK! CLUNK– Oh, how they make this look so much easier in the movies than it actually is but after a few more painfully solid kicks, you manage to break through and loudly receive your prize.

It’s either someone isn’t within earshot or they really couldn’t care less about you trying to escape because there really is no way out. Either way, you rush over to the window and try to use your thin, broken metal bar to get one of the boards off – which you do manage to do. Though, not without a lot of huffing, a couple of cuts from the sharp, bent metal, and some swearing about how much you hate men at this point.

While the gap isn’t big enough for you to be able to sneak out of the window, or even get it open, it is enough for you to peer out and see that wherever you are – it’s isolated. Completely. Unless you’re at the back of the house, you cannot see a road or anything else around you… except trees and…

People? No, wolves?

Emerging from the forest, several wolves of different colourings and sizes stalk out from the dark and that’s when you realise that this is an ambush. Unless Chris is bringing a group with him, he’s going to be severely outnumbered and you don't know if you can watch that. No, you know that you can’t watch that.

Panic begins to set in, for yourself, for him, for this entirely shitty situation you both are in, and the room starts to spin as you feel her chest tightening, making it harder to breathe. You know you have to breathe, in and out, nice and slow but you can’t. There are too many thoughts running through your mind, too many things coming and hitting you while in a vulnerable state that makes the severity of the situation feel like it’s trying to swallow you whole. You want to chalk up everything that Theo is doing as some dramatic shit that is becoming borderline insane but with what she saw outside, the way his eyes glowed and every other small detail about Minho and… Chris, it’s like the truth is trying to force you to see what you refuse to see.

Glowing eyes, fangs, the fact that both Chris and Minho’s body heat reminds you of walking heaters, the mark that never fully healed and reminds you of Chris, his possessiveness, the aggression that you put down to male testosterone, comments Minho would make, how he had not wanted to be too close to you when she met up with him after being with Chris, the growling you had thought was sexy and primal, and how you’re drawn to Chris in a way you cannot explain. 

Werewolves are real. Maybe. You still highly doubt their existence, not wanting to believe it just because you can list a few strange things about several people you know. Believing it means accepting that they are real and if they are real then… What else could possibly be out there? Even though the distant growls coming from outside the house should be the biggest indicator for you to believe in the supernatural, the only thing that is clear to you right now as you clutches your chest and your vision turns black – is that Chris is in danger if he comes here.

The car tires screech as Chris takes the corner too quickly. It’s a good thing that Theo has chosen a place that’s out of the township – otherwise he’d be having issues. His jaw hurts from how hard he’s clenching as her panic rushes through him and causes him to almost lose control of the speeding vehicle. He knows it’s your emotions and not his own because all he feels right now is pure rage.

Of course she’d be afraid, it would be stupid to not be in fear for her life when she’s in this dire situation. He tried to warn her about what could happen but she didn’t believe him. He tried to talk to her and work things out but he had lost any and all credibility with her because of the way he’s been treating her so why would she listen? Why would you believe him because all Chris’ done is give her reasons to not want to be around him? He can’t even blame her, as much as he wants to, he can’t blame her for not giving him the time of day.

Fuck, he hates that Felix had a point. Of course he did, there’s a reason why he’s the one Chris can talk to because despite everything – Felix isn’t as fucking stubborn and bull-headed like he can be. A great Alpha, Chris knows this about himself, there is no doubt about that in his mind but as a man? Oh, he has no experience at all, clearly, because he’s really put himself in a mess. “Goddammit.” Chris slams his fist against the wheel as he approaches the location.

A rundown house on the edge of the pack territory, one that has been abandoned due to what had happened to the family that once lived there. Of course Theo chose this place – it’s where Chris killed his brother.

What would his pack do if they found out that their Alpha went and put himself in harm’s way like this? What would they say if they knew that he went charging into this head first without even working out a plan beforehand? How can they continue to  trust their Alpha if he goes against his own rule of thinking with a clear head before acting?

The car skids to a halt on the gravel, Chris having slammed on his brakes and pulled over to the side so that he could pull out his phone. He needs to contact Felix and have the pack by his side if he’s going to save his mate – he can’t do this alone.

“Fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back against the head rest, “I fucking left it at home.”

A cruel grin spreads across Theo’s lips as he hears the car pulling up the driveway, looking out the window to see the unmistakable black sedan that belongs to Chris coming to a stop in front of the house. The wolf rolls his neck, feeling the satisfying cracks as he does so, before turning to Minho, who is now standing to attention at noticing his former Alpha’s arrival. “Go and get her.”

Minho’s upper lip curls upwards as he heads over to the bedroom because who the fuck died and made him king? Sure, he’s the mastermind behind it all but Minho doesn’t answer to him and is only here because it benefits him. The emptiness that sits within his chest, the place in  his heart and mind where his mate’s presence used to reside, it’s the only reason that he even agreed to Theo’s plan in the first place. There’s not a day that goes by where he doesn’t miss his mate. There’s not a moment that doesn’t remind him that he could have been living like every mated wolf should be. When he sees a couple smiling lovingly at each other, when he hears the laughter of children, everytime Minho sees anyone living a life filled with love – he’s reminded about what he no longer has. 

It’s his justification on why he’s helping Theo, even if he mildly regrets the person he’s hurt in his goal to show Chris what it’s like to lose everything you hold dear.

Walking down the hallway, it’s not until he hears the erratic heartbeat coming from the locked room that he’s brought back out of his thoughts and back to the task at hand. “Hey!” he calls out as the door is thrown open and he finds her against the wall, holding her chest as she struggles to breathe. Tears fall freely down her face as she tries to sob, every breath a pathetic gasp for air, and all Minho can think as he rushes to help her is how she shouldn’t be here.

Even after just thinking about his mate and how this will ease his guilt, she shouldn’t be caught up in this. Fuck, why did it have to be her?

Getting her to look at him, Minho tries to speak to her but his words are not registering as she remains locked in place, the panic attack having a tight hold over her and refusing to let go. “You need to breathe, Sugar. Come on, breathe for me.” He shakes her shoulders, getting her to take a deep breath in as she looks at him. “Yeah, yeah, like that. Atta girl, keep going,” Minho breathes with her before pulling her into him to keep her close but the moment he does – she pushes against him.

“...Away…” she barely manages to get the word out as her weak arms try to shove him away. “Don’t– don’t touch me.” She hits his chest with a closed fist in her attempt to get him away, her body instinctively trying to get away from him as if he’s the threat to her and why would she think otherwise? He’s the reason she’s here in the first place. “This is all your fault. You did this.”

The way she’s looking at him triggers a memory, the sound of her broken voice accusing him resonates in his mind and brings forth what happened before his mate was killed. Minho provoked the wolf who had killed his mate; he was being too cocky for his own good and thought he could get away with pissing off the beta simply because of Chris’ reputation as an Alpha. Minho had been warned about picking fights, the words falling on deaf ears because the pack had crossed into Chris’ territory and demanded to see him. They had been behaving like they were at home and were pushing everyone’s buttons so Minho had decided to take it upon himself and sort it out. It was his fault when the wolf lunged at him and his mate, the other not getting away fast enough and falling victim to an anger-fuelled wolf. Her ghost haunted him for months afterwards, asking him why, why didn’t he just leave it alone, why did he need to pick a fight, why didn't he save her?

He blames Chris for something that was his fault to begin with because he’s too ashamed to admit that his arrogance killed his mate. Minho knows that his grudge against the Alpha stems from his own self-loathing but if he hates himself then doesn’t that mean he has to accept what he did?

Doesn’t that mean he has to admit that what happened was purely because of him?

“I know,” he says quietly, letting her escape from his hold and sighing quietly. Maybe the reason why he became attached to her in the first place is because she reminds him so much of his mate. Her smile, her laugh, and the way her nose wrinkles when she’s trying to focus, these are only a few things that brought back fond memories of the mate Minho had lost. Somewhere along the way, Minho had stopped caring about his revenge and enjoyed the idea that maybe, in some twisted way, he could have her back in some kind of way.

The only problem is Chris… or maybe the realisation that she will never truly be his.

“I’m sorry, Sugar.” He looks at her, his heart falling as he sees the disdain in her eyes. “I really fucked up this time.” Maybe he can fix things – he just needs to figure out how.

“Oh, if she thinks that Minho is a monster for the things that he’s done, I wonder what she’ll think if she knew what Alpha Chris did,” Theo speaks, chuckling as he turns his attention to the Alpha who stands in the doorway, eyes black and swimming with murderous intent. “Should we tell her how we know each other?” Both wolves stare at each other, the space filled with the deep, low growl emitting from Chris’ chest as he bares his teeth at the rogue. “I think she’d be interested in knowing who she’s mated to.”

Gritting his teeth, Chris tries to keep himself in check. “Leave her out of this. This is between you and me.”

A short laugh sounds loudly as Theo shakes his head. “No but that’s the thing, she’s the star of the show, Chris. If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t be here. She ties everything together nicely because even if you somehow manage to survive this – you’ll lose the one person you will grow to love more than yourself and your pack. One way or another, you will lose.” The look on Theo’s face makes it clear that he knows he has Chris backed into a corner with no way out. He has been planning this for such a long time, watching and waiting to find a weakness that he could exploit only to be basically handed the most wonderful gift in the form of his ex.

If only he had known back then, he would have been able to get this started sooner but oh well, he’ll get what he wants. All that waiting will be worth it once he sees Chris’ defeated body on his knees, waiting for the final blow.

The blow he’ll be the one to deliver.

Minho’s grip on your bicep isn’t rough, he’s barely even touching you, it’s mostly just guiding you towards the room where the other two wolves are standing, the conversation they were having seemingly interrupted by your presence. “Here’s the lady of the hour, our sweet little Sugar.” Theo’s words drip with sarcasm as he holds out his hand, you scoff and fold your arms as you step away from Minho and out of Theo’s reach. “Oof, so cold, baby.”

You don’t speak, don't even look at him as your eyes drift over to see Chris staring at you. His dark eyes are swimming with more emotion than his face displays and it’s betraying him. Not only can you see that he’s concerned, scared even, about what Theo has planned – Theo knows it as well. 

Is it true that when it comes to you, Chris isn’t as strong as he likes to portray himself? You don’t believe it because everything about him is pure asshole but is he really as bad as he’s allowed you to think this whole time? He’s here, isn’t he? He’s here because of you. Chris has risked himself to save you and that thought has the blood draining from your face as the image of the wolves from earlier comes back.

“Chris, they–” Minho claps a hand over your mouth, your warning muffled as you try to pull away. His palm is sweaty, a sign of his own anxiousness about the situation, but you don’t think too much about it as your tongue lathers his skin in saliva. Your eyes scrunch up at the taste and you can tell Minho isn’t exactly a fan of it but he holds you tight, gritting his teeth, trying to keep you still without using too much strength and risking hurting you.

Twisting and writhing in his hold, you manage to open your mouth wide enough to bite down on his slipping hand but you don't hold back like Minho had. “Ah– FUCK!” he shouts as your teeth manage to break skin and in shock, you’re shoved away while Minho shakes his hand to try and soothe the pain. “Fucking hell, Sugar, you bit me!”

Ironic that the human is the one biting the dogs but you don't answer him, instead looking at Chris, making sure he’s listening to every word of your warning. “It’s an ambush! There are wolves everywhere!”

There’s a growl and things happen so quickly that you don’t have a chance to react. Theo grabs you by the back of your head, pulling you back by your hair, out of an approaching Chris’ reach and the next thing you know – a clawed hand is wrapped around your throat and you’re pulled against his firm and familiar body. “C’mon, Sugar, did you really have to go and ruin the surprise like that? You used to love surprises so why can’t you let Chris have the fun this time?”

Swallowing, you can feel the claws pressing a little closer as your Adam’s apple bobs and alarm bells sound in your head that you shouldn’t piss off the… man… who has your life in his hands. Literally. One wrong move and he could rip your throat out which is not a way you had ever thought that you would die – old age was definitely at the top of that list. Death by werewolf was not. “You–,” the sharp claws has your bravery faltering for a moment, “your surprises… they aren’t exactly the fun kind…” 

Theo barks out a laugh, nodding his head before pressing his nose to the side of your head, eyes on Chris as he inhales deeply and lets out a satisfied sigh. “You’re right. My idea of a surprise definitely isn’t the same kind as yours, Sugar. Though, they couldn’t have been that bad – you stayed after all.” He doesn’t allow you to answer, the points of his claws pressing against the soft skin and giving you pause. “Actually, speaking of our relationship.” Nobody is but he uses it as a way to segue. “Do you think it bothers Chris to know that while he was killing my brother, ripping his throat out, we were wrapped up in our own little world?”

Your eyes widen as you focus on the man across from you, his lips curled into a snarl as a deep warning growl sounds through the room. While you had never met Theo’s brother, you remember the day when your ex-boyfriend had received the call and how it changed everything about him; any good quality that you had seen in Theo faded quickly and he became someone you didn’t know. The aggression was something that had surprised you, never once had he yelled at you but then it was like everything, every little thing you said or did started to become a problem.

Too loud, too bright, too happy, too talkative, too much.

Of course, it should have been your reason to leave but you did indeed stay. You stayed because Theo was hurting and you thought maybe, just maybe, if you stayed and supported him through it – he’ll go back to the man you loved. Except, he didn’t. In fact, he got worse, angrier, his temper grew shorter and somewhere along the lines – the women started to come into play. At first, you thought it was one, the one that destroyed your relationship but later you learned that no, it was women, plural.

As Theo’s nose moves down, your skin crawls, feeling his hot breath against your skin as he reaches the dark mark on your neck. Fear rushes through you with a hint of rage as Theo’s lips press against the mark, a cruel smile etched onto his face as Chris steps forward only for Minho to step in between them and prevent Chris from reaching you.

“Get the fuck out of my way,” Chris commands but it falls on deaf ears – or ears that are no longer needing to obey him.

Minho shakes his head and barely manages to keep Chris in place as he needs to steady his footing against the stronger wolf. “He’ll kill her before you even reach them.” 

“You better listen to him, Alpha Chris. If anyone knows the pain of losing their mate, it’s Minho, so he knows what he’s talking about.” Your eyes widened because you didn’t know that Minho had gone through something that apparently destroys a werewolf. “Though, personally, I think it’s rather poetic for you to lose your mate in the same way you killed my brother.” While you knew it already, it’s not like they were hiding it or that you’re stupid, his words simply confirmed that this is all about revenge for them. They didn’t care about you… well, Theo definitely didn’t care about you, they just care about hurting Chris.

Refusing to keep being a pawn in their game, you try to focus on what you can do to get out of this. You need to. Not only do you not want to die because of some stupid grudge that they all have against each other but you don't want to be killed by Theo of all people. God, you wouldn’t forgive yourself if the man who shattered your heart in so many ways was the one who ended your life. With a deep breath in and closing your eyes, you steel yourself for pain as you throw your elbow back and get Theo right in the solar plexus, catching him off-guard enough to let you go.

Not without scratching you though.

“You little bitch,” he growls, rushing to grab you again but you manage to escape his grip this time – barely. “You need to stop fucking doing that.”

Minho doesn’t stop you from getting to Chris, who immediately makes sure that you’re behind him, however, Minho does keep Theo from reaching you. “Are you okay?” Chris asks as you raise a hand to your neck and touch the cut on your throat. 

“I’ll be okay,” you whisper, wincing as the pain starts to radiate through your body. It’s not deep, luckily, but it hurts a lot – like a cat scratch. 

To your surprise, her ‘friend’ manages to push Theo backwards with enough force to cause him to stumble slightly. The room is suddenly quiet, tensions so high that it causes your body to feel on edge as you stare at the back of Minho’s head. You can’t see his face but you know him well enough, or think you do, to know the look on his face. Conflict, pain and from the low growl that starts to grow louder, anger would all be prominent in those deep brown eyes as he chooses to betray the other rogue wolf in favour of you. 

A human.

“You got soft on her and decided that avenging your dead mate isn’t worth it anymore?” Theo barks out a laugh in disbelief, shaking his head as his eyes glow faintly with a golden hue that you would have found gorgeous… if it wasn’t Theo. “A fool but you wouldn’t be the first to have fallen to her like that. You have a way of pulling people in, don’t you Sugar? A sweet little thing who can charm everyone around you with just a fucking smile.” You can feel Chris’ hand reaching to rest on your side, making sure you stay behind him. He’s silent, though there’s this hostility rushing through him that has your own body on edge and making you feel like you want to go and fight Theo yourself but Chris is not growling. Not reacting.

He’s completely in control of himself, which is surprising considering the situation but it’s like the shift in Minho’s alliances has allowed him to think clearer.

Theo doesn’t seem like he’s done talking, but then again, he’s always liked talking to anyone who would listen to him. You forgot that this man loves the sound of his own voice. “She’s mated to your former Alpha and you went rogue from his pack, how do you think that will work? She cannot replace your mate, no matter how similar they are.” 

“You do not get to speak about Jisoo.” Something about the way Minho says the woman’s name shows you that he hasn’t said it in a long time, like it physically kills him inside to mention her out loud like that.

Clicking his tongue, Theo rolls his eyes before meeting your gaze. A cruel smirk spreads across his lips as if a brilliant idea has just popped up that could get him everything that he’s ever wanted. “If this is the fate that you’ve chosen then you can’t say I’m not generous enough to provide it.” He whistles loudly and a chorus of howls answer him, reminding you of the literal waiting wolves just outside the abandoned house. “I wanted theatrics. I wanted to make it like you, Sugar, but I guess the phrase is ‘revenge is best served cold’, not sweet.” A manic laugh escapes him at his terrible joke and it sends a shiver down your spine as you understand what he’s getting at. “As long as the job gets done – who cares how it’s done, right?”

It’s almost like it was planned. The window shatters as a wolf leaps through and lunges at you while more burst through the door, not caring about who they attack – as long as they get their teeth into someone. Chris barely manages to get you out of the way of the lunging wolf, his arm out and caught in the open jaws of the beast; the grunt Chris lets out as teeth tear into flesh has your stomach turning before Minho grabs your wrist and pulls your attention away from Chris.

“Sugar, focus,” he says desperately. You don’t know what he’s talking about until pain spreads through your body and you all but collapse to the floor, face contorted in anguish. “Listen, we don’t have time so you need to focus on something else. Don’t think about Chris.” Minho picks you up and shakes you, trying to get your attention off of what is happening. “Think about getting the fuck out of here.” 

You hear Chris shouting your name, managing to dodge another wolf that’s aiming for him before looking over at you and meeting your wide eyes filled with worry and fear. “GO!” he commands and Minho tugs you with him towards the bedroom since there is no open exit in the open living room with the wolves nearly taking up all the space. There’s a bark before a wolf yelps and you try to resist the curiosity that has you looking over your shoulder but you need to make sure that Chris is okay. You gasp at the sight; a wolf lays on the ground, neck at an odd angle and mouth open, lifeless eyes stare at the ceiling as the other wolves rush over it to try and get at Chris.

He’s killing them. Chris is killing the wolves and while you know it logically makes sense for him to not hold back – something inside you breaks knowing that. They will do worse to him, to you, if he doesn’t end their lives first but… doesn’t it hurt to kill his own kind?

“Chris hates taking lives,” Minho answers your unspoken question like he had read your mind and pulls you behind him, just in time to defend against a large grey wolf that has broken away from the others to go after you. “Killing our own kind shatters something inside us, even if it’s necessary.” Managing to grab the attacking wolf by its snout, Minho grits his teeth while you slowly stagger back, entering your former make-shift cell. 

Minho looks over his shoulder and even though their eyes meet for a wordless split second before he turns away, you know that he’s giving you permission to save yourself. Slamming the door shut, you rush towards the bed and hope that the metal frame doesn’t mean you won’t be able to move it. “This can’t be happening,” you say to yourself, grunting as you pull the bed with all your might, the metal feet scraping loudly against the wooden floor almost overpowered by the chaos on the other side of the door. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Everything happened so quickly but it also felt like everything happened in slow motion. A contradiction because your brain is trying to process everything but your body is reacting quicker than you can understand. One minute you’re in Theo’s clutches, the scratch on your neck faintly throbbing in reminder, and then the next thing you know – you’re locked in a room with absolutely no means to escape or survive. If someone breaks through the door, you’re fucked and you are not delusional enough to think that you can actually take on a werewolf. However, as you listen to the fighting outside, the howling and growling, the cries of pain as Chris and Minho are greatly overpowered, everything comes in slowly.

Chris came for you. Minho protected you. Werewolves are real. You are all going to die.

“This is just a bad dream,” you crouch in a corner, trying to make yourself as small as possible as you stare at the door. “This has to be a bad dream.”

Due to the small space, the wolves are unable to attack all at once without getting in the way of each other and while that does work to Chris’ advantage, it also prevents him from being able to shift.

Blood drips to the floor, his wounds healing slower than usual due to not shifting but it doesn’t slow him down as he throws a small brown wolf at another, knocking them both out. It’s a struggle not trying to kill too many of them, a lot of them were probably being offered something in exchange for trying to take out the Alpha so he doesn’t want to blame them for being suckered into Theo’s game. To Theo, they are disposable, pawns in a game of chess to level the playing field because the spineless coward knows that he could never win a one-on-one fight with Chris.

As he’s trying to keep himself from being cornered, Chris notices Minho entering the room, rushing into the pack of wolves to help him out. “She’s in the room,” the former beta grunts as he pulls a wolf by its tail and Chris allows himself a second to feel relieved that she’s safe before stepping back and finding his back against the wall. 

Even with Minho’s help, Chris cannot keep taking on the onslaught. Every time he removes one from the fight, another steps up to take its place and while none of them are trying to actively kill him, they are trying to wear him down at least. He assumes it’s because Theo wants to have the honours of killing the Alpha and needs him weak to do so.

As Chris thought, a fucking coward.

“You’re holding back, Chris. C’mon, where is that Alpha energy?” Theo laughs, leaning against the wall, watching the fight as if it’s some sport on TV. His eyes are swimming with excitement as he watches them try and fend off attack after attack. Theo must have imagined it to be like this otherwise he wouldn’t look like he’s about to get the gift of a lifetime; he must have anticipated the metallic scent of blood that fills the air, the floor littered with lifeless bodies and the disturbing sounds echoing as they tear a weaker wolf apart. This must be everything he has ever wanted since it’s bringing him closer to his goal.

Theo knows that if they could shift, they’d be deadlier especially with their size and teeth. Lucky for him, they barely have time to shift, or even partially shift because that means their strength is limited. It’s why he made sure that they were ambushed inside the house because even if many of these wolves die – Chris cannot access his full strength. Werewolves in their human form are still unnaturally strong and possess heightened senses but they aren’t at their best – something to do with not being connected with the wolf inside them like this. Chris is still strong due to being an Alpha and Minho used to be one of the pack’s best fighters but without shifting, they won’t be able to take on the numbers for much longer and come out on top.

Grabbing a wolf by its snout and jaw, Chris howls loudly, his eyes glowing a deep gold as he forcefully removes the mandible. Blood splatters across his face as he bares his fangs and raises the dislocated jaw above his head as he looks at Theo, letting out a primal growl. He’s not warning him anymore, Chris is threatening that this will be his fate and by the way Theo’s smirk falters – he’s having a moment of doubt. He had assumed that Chris would have fallen by now, that the Alpha would be on his knees and in the palm of his hands but from the murderous look in his eyes, Theo realises that all he’s done is piss Chris off.

He’s underestimated the Alpha and there’s always a price to pay for that.

“You can’t beat them all!” Theo yells, hesitantly stepping back as Chris tears out another wolf’s throat with his bare hands. The growing brutality of Chris’ actions cause some of the wolves to rethink their actions about attacking him; while a lot of them knew that this would be a suicide mission, they didn’t think Chris would take out as many of them as he has been – or possess the strength that he does. Their expectations about the fight do not match with the current outcome and some begin to wonder if they should continue. “You won’t be able to–” Howling sounds from outside the house and causes Theo to trail off and for the first time since all of this started, fear makes its way onto his features.

Before the rogues know what’s happening, pack wolves make their way into the house to begin chasing them off or retaliating against their attacks on the Alpha. Chris doesn’t know how Felix managed to find him but right now, he’s more determined to make sure this ends once and for all as Theo tries to use the commotion as a cover to escape.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Chris yells, taking after the retreating rogue while those who had held allegiance to Theo are overwhelmed by the cavalry that has arrived. Power rushes through him as he begins to shift, the change happening quickly and by the time he’s made it outside, Chris is a large black wolf hunting down his prey.

He’s faster than Theo, larger and due to his training, he’s more in control than the rogue which helps him catch up to the fleeing wolf and tackle him to the ground. Pinning the brown wolf down, Chris growls, snapping his jaws before aiming for his throat, determined to finish this fight in the only way that will make sure it won’t happen again. If Theo wanted this to be poetic then Chris will make sure he gets what he wants by killing him in the same way and place that he had killed his brother.

He vividly remembers that day, it’s not a day that he allows himself to forget because it was the day that Chris had come back to the pack. After taking the time to grow, to become a wolf who could lead and a man who had some life experience, Chris had come back to find out that a rogue was accepted onto the pack’s territory. Theo may not have known that his brother had left their pack, maybe the wolf never truly left and had used it as a guise but whatever the specifics of it was, his goal of being there was to try and take on Chris.

All because his brother wanted Chris’ status and power.

Maybe it’s because Theo and his older brother were outsiders even in their own pack, neither of them holding any respect and power within the hierarchy and he was sick of being at the bottom. Maybe his brother thought that they deserved to be higher in the ranks but because they were sons of the Alpha who were born to an outsider, they were never going to go anywhere. Chris remembers hearing about them, their existence caused quite a stir amongst the packs since it’s unusual for Alpha’s to have children with those who are not their mates. A tradition that stems from the formation of packs eons ago, a way to make sure that the future packs are stronger and blessed by the Moon Goddess – while not every Alpha has followed it, it’s more unusual than not.

While Chris knew better than to accept the challenge because it stemmed from jealousy and misplaced hatred, he still said yes. Even when they both knew what it could mean, Chris still accepted the challenge because he didn’t want to look weak in front of his pack.

Knowing what he knows now, Chris is aware that they wouldn’t have viewed him any different if he said that the challenge was stupid but that’s what hindsight is for, right?

Killing another wolf, regardless of whether they are a part of one’s pack or not, leaves a mark on the soul that makes one feel like they are tainted. Even if it is done with reason, even if it is because of a war or self-defence, it hurts to kill one of their own kind. Nobody knows why, nobody can pinpoint in history when this started to happen but the elders theorise it’s when humans started to hunt them, culling the packs down to dangerously low numbers that they had to go into hiding. Whatever the reason, watching the wolf’s life fade before his eyes and feeling that searing pain in his core changed Chris from that day on.

It’s why he couldn’t let Minho kill to avenge his mate because he didn’t want his beta to carry that burden – not realising that losing Jisoo was heavier.

Sharp teeth bite into flesh, the sound of tearing echoes in the silent field as Chris pulls back and feels the sense of deja vu rush through him. Theo doesn’t look that different from his late older brother and maybe in a different life, with different choices, they could have lived a long life instead of meeting the same gruesome end. Not that it matters now but Chris still mourns the death of one of his kind. Staring at the lifeless wolf, Chris feels a wave of sorrow rush over him because he didn’t want this to be the way it ended but he wasn’t given any other option when it became clear that Theo would never leave her alone if he were to survive this. Huffing as he shakes his head, Chris turns back towards the house before he stumbles, the weight of his own injuries taking over and causing him to collapse.

The last thought that runs through his mind as his world turns to black is her. Her smile, her laugh, the warmth she provides those around him and the gentle heart that beats inside her.

“Fuck. What have I done?…”

Your eyes are locked on the scene in front of you, your feet glued to the floor as the door is forced open and Minho pulls you into his arms. “Don’t look.” His words come too late as you already witnessed the large black wolf tearing out the throat of the smaller brown wolf like a predator killing his prey.

Your arms hang limp by your side as Minho’s hand rests on the back of your head and he tries to explain why Chris had to do what he did but the words fall on deaf ears. Everything you have been feeling suddenly fades, your body growing numb and your brain shutting down as your body goes into shock from everything that’s happened. You’re now questioning everything around you because the world that you once knew has been resorted to nothing more than a fairy tale from yesterday. It feels like you’ve aged several years in the span of a few hours and lost your innocence because of this.

“We need to get out of here, Sugar.” Minho picks you up with no resistance on your end. “Close your eyes and I’ll carry you out.” If you could hear the guilt in his voice then maybe you would know how much he blames himself for putting you in this position in the first place but right now, you cannot find it in your heart to care.

You cannot seem to care about anything right now. Not when he carries you through the room of fallen wolves, Chris’ pack cleaning up the mess wordlessly. Not when you see a couple of the pack rushing off in the direction where Chris and Theo were, shouting something you couldn’t comprehend to alert the others. Not even when Minho puts you in the car and tells you that he’ll take you home and leave you alone after this. “I’m sorry,” you hear him say but you don’t respond. You don't even know what you would say if you wanted to.

The only thing that seems to gain a reaction from you is when you look past Minho to see Felix and another member helping a naked Chris towards their car. His head bobs up and down slightly as they walk and even though you cannot see the full extent of his injuries, you know that he’s not in a good state. 

“I want to see him.” You finally look up at Minho, his expression conflicted by your request but after a moment of deliberation, he concedes. 

With a heavy sigh, he helps you out of the car and calls out to Felix. “Do you want to go back to the pack house with him?” Minho asks, his voice low so that you’re the only one who can hear him, “I can take you home. It might be bet–”

“No. I want to stay with him.” There are many emotions conflicting inside of you, so many thoughts running around your head and questions sitting on the tip of your tongue but everything can wait until after he’s okay. Right now, that is the most important thing to you; even if you want to curl up in bed, cry yourself to sleep and never leave your room ever again, you need to make sure Chris is okay. He sacrificed himself to save you, despite everything he’s said and done, he turned up knowing that he could die.

He nearly did die trying to save you. 

You pick up the pace, wanting to be near him so that you can take in the damage yourself but Minho’s grip on your elbow stops you right before you can reach him. “Sugar.” You can hear the plea in his voice, the uncertainty about whether you could forgive him for what Minho did to you. Your face gives nothing away as he asks if they can talk later. “Give it some thought. You have my number, yeah?”

You hum, the sound neither a confirmation nor a decline, before making your way towards the opened door so you can slide into the car next to Chris, lifting his heavy head to rest on your lap. You can’t think about Minho right now, there is already too much on your plate for you to want to care about your friendship with him or at least, the lie of it, and whether you could ever get through this. How does one get past your supposed friend kidnapping you and offering you up to your psychotic ex-boyfriend over some weird revenge plan?

“He might not wake up for a while,” Felix’s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you look down at the man resting on your lap, your fingers subconsciously playing through his damp hair. “We can drop you off whenever you want to go.”

Meeting his gaze, you nod slightly before looking back down at Chris. “Thank you,” your voice is as soft as your touch as you brush a lock of hair off his forehead.

As the car begins to move, the silence feels like a weight trying to suffocate you where you sit. You know you’re mad at Chris, you’re mad at Minho, you’re mad and sad and scared alongside nearly every other emotion you can name. You feel it all as you stare quietly out the window but yet, there is one thing that you feel above everything else.

Concern for Chris’ well-being.

It takes Chris several hours to wake up; several agonising hours of watching and waiting to see if he’ll open his eyes and show you that he’s okay. You spent that time pacing around his bedroom, occupying yourself by looking around his room and trying to learn more about him. Chris has several photo frames on display, various colourful stones sitting in a bowl that must have some kind of significant meaning to them, and a canine tooth on a leather necklace hanging from his mirror. Other than that, there is nothing that can give you some kind of deep insight into the mind of the Alpha.

Ironic since you were thinking of him as a stupid Alpha male this entire time. The macho type of man who demands that people listen to him and reverts to aggression when he doesn’t get his way. Who knew you wouldn’t be that far off on that?

Felix came up and gave you company now and again, offering to show you around the house only for you to kindly refuse because you didn’t want to miss out on him waking up. Though, if you had known that Chris was going to take this long, maybe you would have. Luckily, during this time, you had eaten, showered and changed your clothes in the master bedroom’s ensuite, plus you were able to contact Serena to let her know that you were going to be staying out for the night. Of course, there were follow up questions but right now, you didn’t want to deal with the judgement of your older sister especially when you had no clue how to explain where you’re at and why you’re there.

The digital clock on the bedside cabinet displays 02:12AM when you finally lay down on the king bed, facing a sleeping Chris. The bite and claw marks that littered his body earlier have mostly healed but he still hasn’t woken up. From what Felix had explained, he’s in this state because it’s easier to heal while unconscious and allowing their wolf to take over than when awake; it made no sense to you, if you were honest, but he guaranteed that Chris would wake up when he had healed enough and that’s what you held onto.

“I’m still mad at you,” you whisper without a hint of anger behind it, examining his resting face. You were surprised to learn that Chris hadn’t turned 30 yet, especially with the way he held himself and assuming his status, but like this – you can see it. Reaching over, you lightly trace a finger over his jaw line, feeling the prickle of his stubble under your fingertips, before pulling away. “You have a lot of explaining to do, Christopher, but right now… please just wake up…”

If you weren’t watching his face as closely as you were, you would have missed the way his lips twitch upwards, the ghost of a smile forming before gold eyes flutter open to meet yours. You gasp but don't say anything as you watch the gold begin to fade into a deep brown, almost dark enough to reflect your image in his eyes. “You’re here,” his voice is deep, quiet, and filled with emotion.

He’s surprised you came with him, let alone stayed until he woke up.

“I–” You’re about to tell him that you had to be here when he woke up so that you could demand answers about everything but it didn’t feel right to say that. Not right now, at least. “I was worried about you. You could have died, Chris.” As the words leave your lips, you feel their truth deep in your soul because while you want answers, while you deserve answers, you were worried about him. It terrified you to think that the both of you weren’t going to make it out of there; it wasn’t just you that you were thinking about in that moment – you were thinking about Chris too.

His hand reaches up to caress your face and it’s not until his thumb sweeps under your eye that you realise you’re crying. You don't know when you had started but now that you’re aware, you begin to give into the feelings that had been held back by the adrenaline and shock. Soft sobs pass through your lips and Chris wraps you up into his embrace, pulling you in and providing a safe place to cry. “I’m sorry,” Chris whispers into your hair and you squeeze your eyes shut as if that would stop the tears from flowing. “I’m so fucking sorry, Sugar.”

“What would have happened if you died?” you blubber, lifting your head to look up at him and take in his sorrowful expression. His expression conveys his guilt but he’s also hurting because of the pain that you’re feeling and what he’s put you through. “You… you could have.”

“I could have.” Chris nods, his voice soft and his hands gentle as they run over your back, trying to provide comfort. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t try to defend his actions or poke fun at you for crying about it because you survived, didn’t you? Chris allows you to feel the emotions without any of the jest or arrogance you have come to know.

Wiping the tears from your eyes and sniffling, you ask a question that you already know the answer to, “Why did you come?”

He lets out a soft chuckle, raising an eyebrow at you before his expression softens. Chris gently rests his forehead against yours, holding your gaze. “Because of you,” he answers simply. The weight of his words mixed with his quiet whisper sends a shiver down your spine.

“Why?” you ask, your voice just as quiet as his.

“You know why. I wasn’t going to let him hurt you.” Theo had done it before, would it have been any different this time?

You search Chris’ gaze and the intensity in his eyes makes you blurt out what is on your mind, “so, you killed him. Why?” It’s obvious why because Theo was a threat. Not only was he a threat to Chris and his pack but to you as well. You know this but that didn’t answer your question: did Chris need to kill him?

A moment passes and you know it’s because Chris is trying to figure out how to word his answer in a way that you’d understand.

“I would destroy the world if it posed a threat to you,” he says, his voice unwavering. “If a choice has to be made that has to do with you, I would always choose you. You are my mate, Sugar. You may not fully comprehend what that is but that means that you are the only reason I live.” Your cheeks heat up as your heart races and you have to break eye contact so you can remain composed – except Chris isn’t finished talking and lifts your chin up so that you’re looking at him again. “Even if it kills me, I will always put you first and you need to understand that.”

She asked Chris every question that she could think of, making sure that he elaborated on everything whenever she got confused about something that he had said. He told her about himself, what it means to be an Alpha and even took the brunt of her prodding when she learned that Chris has always had issues with his anger. Though it wasn’t just Chris that spoke, she shared about herself as well, especially about her relationship with Theo and what caused her to start the business with her sister. They spent hours talking and learning about each other and the worlds that they both came from – which meant also learning about werewolves and the mating process.

“So,” she asks, skin growing warmer to the touch as her skin flushed thinking about it, “when we had sex that day…”

Clearing his throat, Chris nods and looks away like he’s ashamed about admitting this to her. “I knotted you… you–” he clears his throat, “you seemed to enjoy it though.” He distinctly remembers how tight she was around him as she came undone and the thought stirs something up inside them both before she slaps his chest.

“I wasn’t focused on that! I was focused on how stupidly confusing you were and how you had your teeth in my neck.” God, he loves that little fire inside her when she’s trying to defend herself even though he can tell she’s thinking about it. “No.” She stops his thoughts in their tracks. “That is not happening again any time soon.”

“But you’re open to it happening again?” He smirks, his tone hopeful.

Rolling her eyes, she huffs, “maybe. I’ll think about it.” It’s not a ‘no’ so that allows Chris to believe that maybe she’s accepting their fate.

It’s always easier for werewolves to mate within their own kind and sometimes, they do regardless. If they don’t find their mates then they often choose to mate with someone from within the pack or another pack but it’s harder to do this when you’ve already found the one destined for you. It’s this pull, this need to be around them that makes it harder to be without them and with someone else – it’s why they don’t fight against it.

Even though Chris tried, and failed miserably.

He opens his mouth to say something, to ask her for a fresh start so that he can show her that he’s a good mate, a good choice in a partner for her, but when he does – she yawns. Loudly. Letting out a short laugh, Chris nods and understands what it is that she’s needing before she even asks for it; she’s been awake for a long time, holding out for him to wake up and deal with her interrogation so of course the exhaustion is hitting her now.

She’s human, after all. She isn’t built for this and while there’s still so much to do and work out – Chris needs to take it at her pace.

“Come here.” He lays on his back, bringing her head to rest on his chest, running his calloused fingers up and down her spine and keeping her close. “Sleep, hm? If you still have questions when we wake up then I’ll answer whatever else you want me to. I have no secrets from you, Sugar.” His body feels more at ease with her cuddled into his side, his breathing slowing down as he feels the tension leaving her and her fist unfurling on his stomach. It’s how they are meant to be – wrapped up in each other.

His eyes start growing heavy, his mind focusing on the steady heartbeat next to him and using it as his lullaby. The last thought that crosses Chris’ mind as he falls asleep is how this is something that he could get used to.

He could live the rest of his life with her like this in his arms.

Morning breaks and when the Alpha finally stirs from his deep sleep, the deepest he’s had in a long time, he finds himself alone. The side she was on is cold and her scent is fading. It hits him rather quickly: she left. She left while he was sleeping.

Chris searches the house, going from room to room as he calls out her name but it seems that nobody saw her leave the house. Her presence is a fleeting memory from the night before and with her taking everything when she left – it’s almost like she was never there. Chris lays down on the bed, huffing dejectedly as he rests his hand on his head and stares up at the ceiling in thought. “Why did she run away?” There’s nobody who can answer that question except the woman herself but it seems like she’s decided that she doesn’t want to be contacted at all.

Her phone is off. Serena hung up on him when he called the bakery. He could go to the bakery and see her but something tells him it wouldn’t go down well.

“Fuck,” he groans. Flinging his arm out, he accidentally hits the bedside cabinet in his frustration, knocking off the lamp. “Ah– shit.” He looks down to find that the lightbulb had shattered on impact and made a mess, representing his own mess, but that thought is short-lived because something else grabs his attention. He should focus first on cleaning it up, especially because shattered glass isn’t fun to pick out of his feet but the small letter laying on the floor has Chris reaching over instead.

It’s from her. He knows it’s from her. Chris could recognise her handwriting from a mile away.

Chris,I know it might seem like I’m a coward for disappearing before you even wake up but I just don’t know if I can do this. Not right now, at least.You said that the bond will remain and I know that eventually this won’t be something I can push away and ignore forever but I just need some time to think and adjust to everything that happened.One minute, I hated you… or at least wanted to, then the next thing I know, I’m held captive by my ex-boyfriend and someone I trusted and thought was my friend. I learned that werewolves were real in the span of a few hours and not only are they real – but I was used to hurt one over a grudge that happened before we even met. Murder and death are treated like everyday things and I get it, rules must be different for you but for me – even if Theo wasn’t someone that I cared for, I will never believe killing someone is okay.It’s also hard to accept that someone who has spent weeks pushing my buttons and making me unable to stand the sight of him, is meant to be this person I am connected to due to some bite mark that he put on me. Without my permission, I might add.While I want to say that I’m angry at you, I don’t know what I’m feeling to be able to put it all into words other than I need time. Please give me that. Let me work through things in my own time and maybe… well, eventually, we can connect again and see how things go.

Sighing, Chris places the letter on his bedside cabinet and sits up. With feet placed on the carpeted floor and a hand rubbing over his face, he thinks about what she must be going through and he knows that he needs to respect her wishes. She’s had so much thrown at her and it’s not fair for him to push her more. In time, he can hopefully work his way into her heart and show her that he’s not the man she hated. In time, Chris can make it up to her and make things right. He can start on the foot he should have when he first saw her that day but right now, she’s right – it’s a lot for a human to take in in such a short period of time. She needs to come back in her own time and he’ll give her that.

She deserves that from him, and more.

There’s a ring on the doorbell and you sit up from the couch, humming to yourself as you quickly make your way over to the door. You’re not entirely sure who is at the door but you can tell that Chris is excited about it because for the last hour, you’ve had this overwhelming mixture of excitement and nerves rushing through your body as if you’re waiting for something.

Over the last few months, you have been learning more about this bond with the Alpha. You had spent time allowing yourself to accept what had happened and work through all the emotions that had hit you all at once and then when you had accepted that this is something that’s not going away – you did some research. Of course, Google can only provide so much but with that and the lore from many of your fated mate romances, you learned that this is something that cannot be erased easily – or at all, depending on which book you read. You could feel Chris’ emotions whenever he felt strongly about something, like missing you, and there was this constant ache in your chest that has been growing slowly over time. It has gotten to a point where you’re almost ready to pack it up and go back home – almost.

Not that it’s just Chris that you’re missing. You had left town completely, having headed back to the city to get away from it all, which seemed to work at first when it came to being away from the constant reminders. Eventually, you began to miss Serena and the bakery. You miss your sister’s cooking and being able to go for walks along the beach after work. You miss how clean the air is and how quiet it is at night. Over your months away, you have compiled a list of all the things you miss and realise that the longer you’re away, the longer that list gets.

“Delivery for…” the man reads out your name and has your sign for it. Handing over a beautiful bouquet of roses, you bring them close and take a deep inhale before smiling softly to yourself. 

Every few days for the last month, Chris has a new bouquet of flowers delivered to your door. At first, they were just flowers followed by a small text, telling you that he hopes you’re doing well, but the last couple of deliveries have had the nice addition of a letter.

You’re sure he got the idea from you.

“Thank you, have a good day.” You bow your head and take the letter from the delivery man before closing your door and making your way into the kitchen where the previous bouquet sits in a crystal vase. “Hm, they haven’t wilted yet…” You think to yourself before placing them on the bench to deal with later because you’ll have to find another vase for this one.

Sitting down on the couch once more, you open up the letter with a smile, wondering what words Chris has written for you this time. He’s strangely poetic, you’ve learned, always finding quotes from poems and sharing them with you or sometimes, he’ll share something about his past like how he once raced a few of his betas when he was a teen – only to end up running into a tree. Each letter held something that has you struggling to keep your distance, each text has you wishing you could tell him to come around, and every voicemail has your heart longing for him.

You made him miss you, even if it also made you miss Chris in return. You made sure that he had to work for your love. While you haven’t said those words to him or admitted them to yourself, with all the effort that he’s been putting in since you reached out a month ago – you can say that he’s on his way to winning you over.

Sugar,The new season comes in and your sister has decided that this means it’s time to rearrange the bakery.

You laugh softly, shaking your head because Serena had told you that Chris has not only been trying to make things right with you, but also with your sister. While you have the bond that makes it easier for him to break down those walls, Serena does not and from what she’s been saying – she’s making Chris work his ass off to get her blessing.

Not that it’s detering him in the slightest.

I know that you’ve been taking it slow and that you will decide to come back when you feel it’s time but I was hoping you might like to go out for dinner soon. No pressure, Sugar. It’s not like I’m going crazy without seeing your smile every time I walk into the bakery.

Just text me when and I’ll make it happen.

You smile, knowing exactly how he would have said those words because you can imagine the ever-so-confident smirk Chris would be wearing as he wrote that out. You realise that despite it all and how much he pissed you off, you can clearly imagine the way he would say certain things or how he would get this glint in his eyes whenever you fought back like it turned him on.

“It probably did,” you say aloud, speaking to yourself.

On another note, I was going to tell you when we were texting the other day but I didn’t want to ruin the mood. I thought you deserved to know that Minho has rejoined; he’s at the bottom of the chain until he earns the trust of the pack as a whole but he’s back. I don’t want you to come home and be surprised by his presence so I’ve made it clear that he stays away from you until you have decided to talk to him – I hope that’s okay with you. I didn’t want him to hinder your healing but I also didn’t want to overstep and make a decision for you.

This isn’t actually news to you because you already knew. Minho had texted you the moment Chris allowed him back onto the territory and had reached out to try and talk about what happened but you weren’t ready to deal with him. You honestly don’t know when you will be. Chris might have pissed you off and done things that you didn’t like or that had upset you but he didn’t betray your trust and kidnap you like Minho did.

He can sit in that guilt for a while. You can only deal with one werewolf at a time right now.

I’ll hear from you soon, hm? I’ll keep waiting until you’re ready but know that the moment you let me in – I’m never letting you go again.Chris.

Placing the letter down with the others on the coffee table, a little collection for you to read as you think about what to do next, you sit back and ponder about what you should do. You wanted to take time to deal with your feelings, to understand what happened and to try and figure out how to move forward with everything – you did that. You worked through it all and more. You even started to accept that this is how your life will be moving forward because as crazy as it all was in the beginning, haven’t you always tried to accept what life had to throw at you?

As crazy as a werewolf boyfriend might sound, clearly this was what the universe had decided for you from the moment you met Theo. Maybe you were destined to end up here no matter what path you took.

Taking a deep breath, you reach for your phone. If you don't make a decision now and act on it – you might take a few more months before going back.

[TEXT] <- Hey! So, dinner tonight? Pick me up at 7:30 and don’t be late!

[fanfictiongirlie]

Twilight: Some Soulmate - Chapter Six

Click here for masterlist

Parings: Paul Lahote x Reader

Description: Y/N a member of the Cullen family is imprinted on by one of the wolves, she is shocked, he is shocked. She is struggling with drinking animal blood over human, and he is disgusted by a vampire for a soulmate… But maybe it could work..?

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 1,374

I didn't come back. 

I stayed away from home. 

My family went back to Forks. After Edward nearly killed himself because he thought Bella had killed herself, they all went home. I just couldn't, I felt sick being away from Forks. But Paul made it clear to me, he didn't want me. Why would I stay somewhere, knowing that. 

So I've been exploring, and by exploring I mean, I had a little cottage in England. And I've been reading, I even got a job. As a book keeper, it was actually a nice little life I built in a short amount of time. 

But there was something missing.

Imprinting was a stupid thing. It sucked, knowing there was someone out there who was your perfect half. And they wanted nothing to do with you. Why did my soulmate have to be a werewolf. It didn't even make sense that he was my soulmate, what if I never became a vampire. Then again, Alice said it must of been destiny that I became a vampire. Rosalie says I should be happy it happened when I was still young and not when I was old. 

Paul hadn't tried to message me, or call me. Which hurt, I knew it was hurting him too. I could tell, I could almost feel it. Which Carlisle said was silly. 

They had visited me a few times; my family, before the whole Edward walking into the sun event. Since moving back to Forks I hadn't seen them. 

Esme was begging for me to come back, but I just couldn't. I had a little life here. 

----------

I left my house at 5am, before sunlight, and made my way to my little book shop. Which luckily was located inside a big shopping centre, so no sunlight would hit me throughout the day. I entered the shop, and picked a book at random to start reading. The shop wouldn't be opening until 8am but until then I can read. 

I checked my phone a few times, No new texts from Paul. A few from my family. 

Alice: It's going to be very sunny today, be safe. 

Jasper: Sending calm vibes. 

That one made me laugh. 

We may need you home soon, unfortunately there may be a fight 

That one was from Carlisle. I felt panic, I called him.

"Carlisle what's wrong?" I say, putting my book down. 

"Alice has seen a group of newborns heading our way" He spoke in his quiet soft voice. I had missed it. 

"I can come back and help if you need me Carlisle" I spoke, I didn't really want to come back, it had been ages since I had been there. But if it meant keeping my family safe.

"I'd feel a little bit more confidant if you did, but there's one problem" Carlisle said. 

I waited for him to speak again. 

"The wolves will be helping us, we met with them a few days ago" Carlisle explained. "Edward said he could hear Paul thinking about you, looking for you in our group" 

"Oh, really?" I asked, surprised. 

"Edward says he still hasn't forgiven you, he could hear the anger towards you. But I believe he wants to see you" Carlisle finished. 

I nodded, as if he could see me. 

"When will the new borns be there?" I asked. 

"In one week" Carlisle answered. 

"Okay, I'll leave now, hopefully it shouldn't take long. But I'll see you soon" I say, I put my phone down and frown. I guess I couldn't be opening the shop today. 

I headed outside, luckily the sun hadn't quite left the clouds, but I drove home. Packed all the important bits, and then put a headscarf on. 

And headed towards the airport. 

-----------

The flight was quick, and the drive to Forks was uncomfortable. I didn't want to see him. Or maybe I did. 

I drove quickly, not looking away from the road. I could faintly smell the wolves, and it hurt. 

I pulled up into my house, parked the car and ran quick into the house. But it was empty. Now I was confused. 

I pulled out my phone and dialled Carlisle's number. He answered after one ring. 

"Y/N, are you home?" He asked

"Yes, where are you?" I asked. 

"In the woods, follow my scent, it should be fairly easy to follow" He said, and the call ended. 

Carlisle wasn't wrong, I followed his scent and I saw them soon enough. I also saw the wolves. I knew where Paul was, our eyes met. I could feel the anger. 

I missed him. So much. 

"Y/N" Esme smiled widely, as she came over to me to hug me tightly. 

"I missed you" She whispered into my ear. "I missed you too" 

Carlisle started what ever this was, and then Jasper proceeded to start showing off his fighting skills. 

"Y/N, your turn" He said smirking at me. 

I stepped forward, finally taking my eyes off Paul. 

I watched Jasper, waiting for his first move, he went to punch and I dodged, grabbing his arm and spinning him. He jumped and tried to land on me, but I dodged that by jumping up and wrapping my arms around his chest and pulled him down. 

"That was a good example of what the newborns do" Jasper explained "They will wrap their arms around you and squeeze, do not let them do that"

We all fought a little bit more, except for the wolves, they watched. Carlisle called it to an end as we had been doing this for hours. I stepped forward towards Paul but he growled and ran off. I frowned, I had hoped if he saw me again but with my amber eyes back maybe he would forgive me. Obviously not. 

I joined my family in our walk back to the house. 

"Will you stay after the fight?" Emmett asked me.

"I'm not sure" I answer. 

"You should to see me become a vampire" Bella smirked, I nodded. 

"That's definitely something I wouldn't want to miss, the worlds first clumsy vampire" I joke. Everyone laughed at this. 

I walked closer to Edward so I was next to him. 

"Hey, Ed, was he thinking about me?" I asked. 

Edward nodded

"He only thought of you, when you were fighting Jasper, he kept thinking 'If that vamp actually hurts her Ill kill her'" 

I smiled, it was something. Better than him wanting to kill me.

"It'll be okay Y/N" Bella smiled at me. 

Hopefully it will be okay. 

Previous Part - Next Part

[novaursa]

Jojen Reed/Stark reader.

Since early childhood, Jojen has seen visions of a pretty girl who is destined to be driven far from home. He sees moments of her caring for her siblings and hints of a future that make him gradually fall in love with her. His dreams of her fade for a while around the time Bran has his accident, with Bran being at the center of his new visions. After House Stark falls and Bran and his siblings are forced to flee Winterfell, Jojen begins seeing the girl again with Bran, giving him another reason to find Bran.

Thank you!

The One I Dreamed

Requests are closed

- Summary: He loved you long before you met him and will love you longer still.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jojen Reed

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @idenyimimdenial

From the first moment the gods gifted him with sight, Jojen Reed had glimpsed you.

Not in whole, never in clear vision—only fleeting flashes, the echo of you tangled in moss and mist. A girl with a face like sunlight on fresh snow, eyes darker than the Wolfswood at night, hands tender and strong, always cradling something: a pup, a younger brother, a dying bird. She wore a wolf’s cloak clasped with silver, and a storm followed wherever she went. Jojen had seen you since he was barely past his sixth name day, a whisper on the wind between dreams. You never spoke in them, never looked at him. But he saw you often enough to know the sound of your laugh, though it came muffled through the dreamscape, like bells ringing underwater. She will be driven far from home, the greenseers murmured, and he would wake with those words pulsing behind his eyes like fire.

He had asked his father once, eyes wide and earnest, “Can someone fall in love with a dream?”

Howland Reed had smiled, half-sorrowful, half-knowing. “If the dream is real enough, my son, it can shape your waking world.”

And so Jojen watched. He watched as the girl in his visions grew—your face sharpening with age, your hair darkening, your eyes hardening. He saw you among snowflakes with your younger brothers, with Sansa beneath a flowering heart tree, with Robb on horseback, racing across the godswood. Always you were surrounded by your kin, a loyal shadow, a silent shield. It stirred something in him he did not have words for then. He called it devotion. Later, he would call it love.

But as all visions do, yours faded.

When the raven came and told him to go to Winterfell, when the dreams turned to Bran—the boy with the broken body and the burning destiny—you vanished like morning mist. Jojen still searched for you in sleep, reaching out into the dark, but you were gone. In your place was Bran, crying out from the mouth of a three-eyed crow. Bran, standing at the edge of a cliff of bones. Bran, with blood on his hands and stars in his eyes.

And still, always, the whisper: You must find him. Protect him.

He obeyed.

Jojen crossed the marshes with Meera, their packs light but their steps heavy with purpose. When the world cracked open beneath Winterfell, when wolves scattered like seeds in the wind, Jojen’s dreams changed again. This time, it was the both of you.

You returned in the flickering firelight of his greendreams. Tired now. Pale. Your face was leaner than before, smudged with ash and fear. You clutched a dagger like it was your last lifeline, shoulders stiff from the weight of younger brothers pressed against you as you crept through strange woods. But you were still beautiful, in the quiet, weathered way of wildflowers surviving the frost. Bran was beside you, wide-eyed and silent, and Jojen felt something like hope stir deep in his chest again.

One night, as they camped beneath the stars on a dry patch above the Neck, Meera stirred beside the fire while Jojen gasped awake, hand clutching his heart. She was used to his jolts and murmurs by now.

“Was it Bran?” she asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

Jojen shook his head, staring into the flames. “Her. I saw her again.”

“Bran’s twin?”

He nodded slowly. “She’s changed. They both have.”

“Are they together?”

“Yes.” His voice was quiet. “She’s protecting him. And he’s leading her, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

Meera tilted her head. “Is that why we’re still going? Not just for Bran?”

Jojen didn’t answer at first. He watched the fire lick the black logs, and thought of you with your hands in Bran’s hair, braiding it like in one of his earliest dreams. “I think the gods want them both,” he murmured. “And maybe…I want her.”

Meera raised a brow, but said nothing. She only reached over to gently squeeze his hand. “Then let’s find her too.”

That night, Jojen dreamed of you again.

This time, he was close enough to hear your voice. You were in some cold forest cave, your arms around Bran as he trembled from a vision of his own. You whispered to him like a mother might, like a sister should, and your voice was a song of Winterfell long lost: gentle, steady, full of ghosts.

“We’ll find our way,” you were saying. “We’re Starks. We always do.”

Bran stirred in your arms. “What if there’s no home left?”

You cupped his face in your hands. “Then we make a new one. For Rickon. For Robb. For everyone we lost.”

Your voice trembled, but your spine did not. Jojen could feel the love in your words, the strength, the sorrow. And there, for a single heartbeat, you looked up—directly at him. Dream or not, he swore your eyes met his through the grey haze.

He woke with tears on his cheeks and a fire in his chest.

That morning, as he and Meera picked their way north through the barrows and frozen creeks, he said softly, “She’s real. And I’ll find her.”

Meera gave him a sideways glance, a faint smile curling her mouth. “I hope she’s worth all this mud and cold.”

Jojen Reed smiled back, faint but firm. “She is.”

He could feel you getting closer. The pull of your fate wrapped around his heart like roots. And though he had never heard you speak his name, he knew—deep in the marrow of every dream—that one day, you would.

The forest was old here, dense with shadow and the sighing breath of winter wind threading through bough and branch. Meera moved like water through it, quiet and smooth, her spear at the ready. Jojen followed behind, slower, each step deliberate as if the earth beneath his feet might speak if only he listened closely enough. The gods had shown him this place. A half-ruined holdfast buried in snow and ivy, its stones split and swallowed by tree roots. He’d seen the cracked stairwell that led to a chamber in the dark, and the three children who slept within—two Starks with the blood of kings in their veins, and the youngest like a ghost of Winterfell’s last joy, clutching a direwolf like a knight with his sword. But it wasn’t the crumbled walls or the flickering hearth that lived in his dreams. It was her.

You.

It was always you.

When the reeds pushed through the thickets and came upon the broken watchtower, the direwolves stirred first—two hulking shadows standing sentinel at the mouth of the ruin, their breath misting in the cold air. Meera tensed beside him, but Jojen didn’t flinch. He looked into the eyes of the grey beast, and the world slowed. The wolf growled low in its throat, but only once, like a warning that wasn’t meant for him.

“Summer,” a voice called from within.

And there you were.

You stepped from the shadows like something pulled from the pages of an old story—wrapped in furs, dirt on your cheeks, your hair braided back but coming undone from wind and worry. A dagger rested in your belt, another in your hand, but your posture softened when you saw the newcomers. Or rather, when you saw him.

Jojen stopped breathing.

It wasn’t like the dreams. Dreams were blurry things, flickering and warped by time. But you—you were clear and bright, fierce and weathered, standing like a flame that refused to die. You met his eyes across the snow, and something deep inside him—something green and ancient—settled with a thrum.

Bran appeared next, clinging to the shoulder of the wildling woman. Osha, Jojen recalled from his visions, the woman with sharp teeth and sharper instincts. Hodor loomed behind them, cradling a sleepy Rickon in his arms. But Jojen could barely see them. The world had narrowed to you.

Bran squinted. “Who are you?”

Meera stepped forward, spear lowered. “We’ve come to find you, Bran Stark. I’m Meera Reed. This is my brother, Jojen.”

You placed yourself between them and Bran without hesitation, one hand held low in a silent signal to the direwolves. “From the Neck?”

Jojen swallowed, nodding. “From Greywater Watch. My father is Howland Reed.”

Bran’s eyes lit up, recognition dawning. “He fought with my father at the Tower of Joy.”

“Yes,” Jojen said softly. “He did.”

You studied him then, your brow furrowing just slightly. “Why now?” you asked, suspicion still curled in your tone. “Why come all this way to find us?”

Jojen stepped forward. Each movement felt like he was walking deeper into his own fate. “Because the gods told me to. In dreams. I saw Bran first, but I saw you long before him.”

You blinked, a subtle flicker of uncertainty crossing your face. “Me?”

He nodded once. “Since I was a boy. Before I knew your name. Before I even knew I’d leave home. I saw you with your brothers, your sister, walking the halls of Winterfell, brushing snow from Rickon’s lashes, holding Bran when he cried in the dark. I saw you become something unbreakable.” His voice was steady, almost reverent. “You were always the one constant in all my dreams. Even when they faded. Even when I forgot what warmth felt like.”

Your eyes met his again, deeper this time. Searching. And he let you look, didn’t flinch from it. It wasn’t just awe he wore on his face—it was something older, something like devotion. Like he had been waiting a lifetime for you to exist in front of him without fading.

“Greendreams,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

“Yes.”

Rickon stirred then, waking with a soft whimper, and you immediately turned to soothe him. It was such a small thing, the way your hand moved to cup the back of his head, the way your voice dropped to a whisper—but Jojen’s chest ached to see it, because it was exactly as he’d dreamed. You were fierce and bright and soft where it mattered, and he could barely breathe from how real you were.

“I believe you,” Bran said suddenly, his voice firmer than it had been in moons.

You looked back at your twin, surprise flickering across your face.

Bran gave a small smile. “I’ve seen him too. In my dreams. And he’s right. We have to go north.”

“No,” Osha barked, stepping forward, shaking her head. “That way’s madness. There’s death in that direction, cold and worse. I’ve kept them alive this long. We go south.”

Jojen turned to you. “It’s not safe in the south. You know that, don’t you?” he asked gently. “There’s fire there, and traps. And death that wears smiling faces.”

Your hand flexed on your dagger, and you said nothing. But your silence was telling.

“We have to go north,” Bran repeated, looking at you now. “To the Three-Eyed Crow. To where the magic still lives. You know it too. Don’t you feel it?”

You looked at Jojen again. And this time, something in you cracked, just slightly. He saw it. The fear, the exhaustion, the quiet hope you tried to bury. You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came. Instead, you stepped toward him, just a breath away now, and looked up into his face.

“Are you real?” you whispered.

And Jojen—who had dreamt of you for years, who had seen you cradling the bones of your childhood and still standing tall—reached out and took your hand with both of his, his voice a whisper of wind through leaves.

“I’ve never been more real than I am standing in front of you.”

And for a moment, the forest fell away. There was no war, no ruin, no death waiting on the road ahead. Just the press of your fingers curling into his, and the greendreamer finding the heart of his dream at last.

[fandomtrumpshate]

Unlisted Fandom Challenge update!

At the top of our Unlisted fandoms:

Jeff Satur (9) and Zhen Hun / Guardian (7) continue to hang on to spots 1 and 2!

Beyond that, the ties have grown!

With 5 signups each:

Alien Stage

BBC Ghosts

Control

Dungeon Meshi

White Collar

4 signups:

Cabin Pressure

Dimension 20

It - Stephen King

Schitt's Creek

Transformers

With 3 signups in an 11-way tie:

Detective Conan

Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

Fire Emblem Awakening

Fire Emblem Fates

Iron Widow

Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

Roswell New Mexico

Stand By Me/The Body

The Goblin Emperor Series

Voltron: Legendary Defender

Guardian RPF

WHEW!

If you can believe it, there are now so many fandoms with two signups each – 44 – that we're bumping those below the cut with the single-signup fandoms.

And THEN! There are one. hundred. sixty. one. write-in fandoms with just a single signup. 161! Giving us a total of 228 write in fandoms all together! So far!

Full list of fandoms with one or two signups below the cut:

The 44 fandoms with 2 write-ins each:

Animorphs

Avatar Legend of Korra

Biggles Series — W. E. Johns

Binan Koukou Chikyuu Boueibu (Cute High Earth Defense Club)

Bridgerton (TV)

Carry On

Cherry Magic

Conclave (2024)

Dangan Ronpa

Dead Boy Detectives RPF

Digimon

Dishonored

Due South

Dune (Villeneuve)

Fields of Mistria

Five Nights at Freddy's

Grantchester (TV)

Gravity Falls

Inception

Kingdom Hearts

Law & Order: Special Victims Unit

Link Click (Shiguang Dailiren)

Lovecraft Mythos

Lucifer (tv)

Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury

Nirvana in Fire

Pathologic

Princess Tutu

Sailor Moon

Slow Horses

Team Fortress 2

The Blue Wolves of Mibu

The Man from U.N.C.L.E. (TV series)

The Poppy War

The Stanley Parable

The X-Files

Tiger & Bunny

Tower of God

Universal Century Gundam

Valdemar Series

What We Do In The Shadows

When the Third Wheel Strikes Back

Word of Honor

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

And finally, the 161 single write-in fandoms:

10 Things I Hate About You (1999)

A Court of Thorns and Roses

Among Us

Arctic Monkeys/The Last shadow Puppets

Around the World in 80 Days (TV 2021)

Babylon 5

Baseball RPF

BBC’s Musketeers

Bendy and the Ink Machine

Beyond Evil

Binan Koukou Chikyuu Bouei Bu Love/Happy Kiss

Black Doves

Black Sails

Boygenius (Band)(RPF)

Brilliant Minds

Britpop RPF

Brokeback Mountain

Bullet train

Canji Baojun De Zhangxin Yu Chong (The disabled tyrant's pet palm fish)

Cassette Beasts

Castle

Challengers

Charmed (1998)

Countryhumans

Criminal Minds

Danger Force (TV)

Dark Deception

Dark Rise

Dead by Daylight

Descendants

Destiny 2

Divergent (Movies)

Downton Abbey

Dr. Stone

Dragonball

Dragonlance

Dragonriders of Pern by Anne McCaffrey

Emma - Jane Austen

Etta Invincible

Fangs of Fortune

Farscape

Fear & Hunger: Termina

Fields of Mistria

Finder no Hyouteki / Finder Series

Flight Rising

Formula 2/3 RPF

Frieren

Fruits Basket

Gangsta (Anime & Manga)

Generation Loss (Web Series)

Giselle

Grimm

Hatoful Boyfriend

Haven (TV)

Helluva Boss

Henry Danger (TV)

High School Musical (Movies)

Hikaru no Go

HLVRAI - Half-life VR But the AI is Self-Aware

Homer's Epics, Ancient Greece Religion and Lore, Epic The Musical

House MD

In Other Lands

In Stars And Time

IndyCar RPF

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

Jeeves and Wooster

Jet Lag The Game RPF

Jurassic Park (Extended Universe)

Kamen Rider GotchardKane and Feels

Kraven the Hunter

Kuroko no Basuke / Kuroko's Basketball

Law & Order

Lays of the Hearth-Fire Series - Victoria Goddard

Lies of P

Life is Strange

Live A Live

Lord Seventh/Qi Ye

M*A*S*H

Malory Towers

Mass Effect 1, 2 or 3

Metaphor: Refantazio

Mononoke (2007 series and 2024 movie)

MotoGP RPF

My Time at Sandrock

Mystic Messenger

NBA RPF

Nerdy Prudes Must Die

Norah Grant Bruce's Billabong books

Oasis

Oh No! Here Comes Trouble

Once Upon A Time

Order of the Stick

Outlast games

Over the Garden Wall

Pacific Rim

Paradise Of Thorns

Peaky Blinders

Persuasion - Jane AustenPhandom

Pirates of the Caribbean

Power Rangers (2017 movie)

Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen

Prodigal Son

Project Sekai

Psych (2006)

Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Qiang Jin Jiu (Ballad of Sword and Wine)

Quantum Break

Ranma 1/2

Resident Alien

Resident Evil

Rise of the Guardians

Riyria Revelations

S.C.I Mystery

S.W.A.T. (2017 show)

Saint Seiya

Saw franchise

Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated (2010)

She-Ra Netflix

Shipwrecked Comedy

Sonic the Hedgehog (Games)

Sonic The Hedgehog (movies)

South Park

Spinning Silver (Novik)

Spirited

Squid Game

Starkid Musicals (no hp)

Stray Gods: The Roleplaying Musical

Super Sentai

That 70s Show

The A Team (either the 2010 movie or the 1980s series)

The Coffin of Andy and Leyley

The Librarians

The OC

The Pairing - Casey McQuiston

The Paradise of Thorns

The Radiant Emperor

The Silt Verses

The Umbrella Academy

the vampire diaries universe

The Venture Maidens

The Walking Dead

The West Wing

Thousand Autumns

Tokusatsu

Tron

Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles

Turning

video games by Arkane Studios

Wander Over Yonder

Warriors / Warrior Cats

Watcher Entertainment/BuzzFeed Unsolved RPF

Wind Breaker

WNBA RPF

Wonka

Xenoblade Chronicles series

Yellowjackets

Young Wizards (Diane Duane)

Zatch Bell

บ้านหลอน ON SALE / Peaceful Property (TV)

Signups are OPEN!

[comatosebunny09]

That can’t be the end. I demand closure. I need a hug. I need him to come back groveling for forgiveness. I will no except this!

🫂🫂🫂 Sorry, Nonnie-bell. I thought about incorporating closure, but not how you’d want. 🥲🥲🥲

You spend weeks trying to find him.

He disappeared from your life like a plume of smoke. Like he never truly existed in the first place.

The base was empty, soulless, the furniture adorned with sheets, the rooms cleared of all life. His safe houses were in a similar state, not a chair out of place. Even Mephisto and the twins vanished alongside him as if the universe opened up and swallowed them whole.

You frequented the places he would go, hoping to catch a glimpse of the ghost. Hoping to feel something where he’d left you bare and hollow. Chasing memories, his afterimage, his voice prickling at the base of your skull.

You wanted to be mad. Pissed. Livid. Wanted to kill him for leaving you like that. Abandoning you at the edge of a cliff when you needed him most. But all you knew was emptiness. Despair. Unerring pain. You couldn’t eat. Sleep eluded you. You were paranoid, searching every face in the crowd in hopes of seeing those shocking, scarlet eyes.

It had been four months since your life changed for the worse. You were just about to give up the fight. He’d made it perfectly clear where you stood—or didn’t—in his life. His number was disconnected, as was the twins’. Your text messages remained undelivered. Every acquaintance of his you’d known throughout the city was as clueless as you were about his whereabouts.

He was infuriatingly efficient in everything he did, erasing his steps, his existence, from the world, leaving you to fend for yourself. Leaving you to pick up the jagged pieces of your pride—your heart—alone.

You’re at Destiny Cafe, nursing a cup of coffee, eyes rimmed by purple bags, stomach empty. You’ve lost weight. Features gaunt, mind empty. A duffel sits on the floor beside your foot, stuffed with a few clothes to start your life anew. You’re running away, much like he did. That’s all you’ve known—running, hiding, deflecting. If he doesn’t want to be found, and by you of all people, you’ll leave him be.

You try to convince yourself that this is fine. That this is for the better. If he wanted you, he would’ve stayed. Would’ve let you off easy. Would’ve had the courage to face you before he jumped ship, leaving you up the creek without a paddle. You will yourself to hate him because he left you stewing in misery. Left you to the wolves, subjected to the torment that is your mind. Your abandonment issues. Your need for constant reassurance.

With a sigh, you begin peeling yourself from the lone chair at your table, reaching down to sling your duffel over your shoulder. But you’re stricken in place when, through the wispy flutter of the curtains lining the cafe’s open windows, you see him—an apparition, all shoulders and ghostly, white hair, red eyes cold and piercing as they pan in.

The world seems to slow to a crawl around you. Your senses crowd, shoving out everything around you until it fades into a muddled blur. You stand, petrified, mouth spilling open, eyes round, as he towers over you, lips thinned with irritation.

You expect your first exchange after so much time apart to be something out of a Harlequin romance novel. Something cliche—a frantic kiss, a possessive hug, shaky apologies murmured into your hair. Instead, he utters something that causes the world to come crashing down on you, and your blood runs cold.

“Stop looking for me.”

He has the gall to sound vexed. To look annoyed like you’re a nuisance. Like chasing the shadow of someone who once had your back is so very wrong.

You scoff, incredulous. “Excuse me?”

He glances off to the side, jaw set until he chuckles something dry and bitter. “Whatever you and I had meant nothing to me. You mean nothing to me.”

Something glacial drops into your stomach. Your heartbeat quickens, thick in your throat. It’s hard to breathe. Molten tears prick your eyes, a film of wetness flooding your vision. You laugh sourly in utter disbelief.

“What?”

Sylus smirks, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. It hurts more, like a knife driven into your stomach and twisted, seeing him so nonchalant about cutting out your heart.

“You were just fun. Someone to pass the time.” He narrows his eyes at you, trading that amused look for something more somber, drilling down to your soul. “So it would be within your best interest to stop hunting me down like some lovesick puppy. I’ve never known you to be so pathetic. Have some respect for yourself.”

You’re moving before you can think, the duffel forgotten on the floor. A loud thump resounds in the stilled room, garnering the attention of some of the cafe’s other patrons.

You can’t see past the tears. Can’t breathe, throat constricting. Your grip is white-knuckled on the lapels of his coat, voice shrill, chest afire. You will yourself to speak. To string coherent words together, but it’s like every emotion you’ve held back for the past few months is spilling out all at once.

You shake him, wailing, sobbing, ugly, falling apart. He glares down at you with cold, rigid apathy, as though disgusted by the mere thought of you. For a moment, through the bleariness of your tears, you swear you see a crack in his facade. A wobble to his lips. A furrow between his brows. A flash of anguish, a twitch of his hands with the need to reach out and console you, to tell you it’s alright.

But maybe it’s just wishful thinking. And perhaps you are as pathetic as he says.

He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t offer hollow comfort as he untwines your fingers from his collar, steps away as you crumble to the floor, and walks out of your life as he did those months back.

[bighound-littlebird]

Hi!

Do you think Sandor will return in Sansa's chapters and every time he is mentioned he is nothing more than a foreshadow for their meeting?

I love Sansa and Sandor, both as individual characters and as dynamics, regardless of the nature of the love that unites them. People cant deny the depth of their bond. For Sansa no other man can protect her now that Ned is dead but Sandor and for Sandor no one else is worth protecting as much as the only person to whom he showed his weakness without being judged but consoled and understood for the first time.

So i wanted to ask you something, but if you already talked about it, it is fine if you ignore me.

Do you think Sansa's destiny as a lady in the Vale is foreshadowed in being so often compared to little birds first and birds of prey later?

Do you think Sandor will return in Sansa's chapters and every time he is mentioned it is a foreshadow for their meeting?

Why do so many people want to use Arya as an excuse to reduce Sandor and Sansa's relationship to the same level when Arya herself says that Sandor ignored her completely for days despite being alone while Sandor constantly searches for Sansa even when surrounded by people who could kill him for it?

Thank you for your account. It is so lovely.

I do think some of Sansa's thoughts and dreams about dogs/wolves are foreshadowing Sandor's return. But I don't think Sandor's whole purpose in returning revolves around Sansa. I don't know how much of asoiaf you've read, but GRRM has definitely given Sandor his own important arc; in A Storm of Swords we see there's more to it still.

"He saw Sansa crying herself to sleep at night, and he saw Arya watching in silence and holding her secrets hard in her heart. There were shadows all around them. One shadow was dark as ash, with the terrible face of a hound. Another was armored like the sun, golden and beautiful. Over them both loomed a giant in armor made of stone, but when he opened his visor, there was nothing inside but darkness and thick black blood." A Game of Thrones Bran lll

As for foreshadowing of Sansa being Lady of the Vale, I don't think the references to her being a little bird are referring to that. Sandor started calling her "little bird" when she was still in Kings Landing.

"Some septa trained you well. You're like one of those birds from the Summer Isles, aren't you? A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite." A Game of Thrones Sansa ll

He specified the birds in the Summer Isles because they were small and pretty, they repeat what they hear, and they're caged. Afterwards, Sansa thinks of herself that way because she realizes that she does, in fact, say what she thinks her captors want to hear. It's not a complimentary comparison in Sandor or Sansa's minds. And Sandor had no way of knowing Sansa is in the Vale, at least as far as we see in the books.

I don't think it's a coincidence that GRRM was specific about the type of bird Sandor compared Sansa to, either. He made it clear that the sigil of House Arryn is a falcon, a bird of prey, which actually hunts small parrot-type birds, the type Sandor was thinking about.

Sansa is still captive in the Vale. The only time she thinks fondly about falcons is when she watched one flying high above the Vale, and wished she had wings, too. But there are many instances where she reminded herself that she's a Stark of Winterfell.

We know that Bran wargs into birds, and so do other characters in asoiaf. I believe that the bird imagery surrounding Sansa is in reference to her eventual escape to Winterfell and the possibility that she develops her abilities as a warg alongside Bran.

I haven't really seen anyone use Arya to diminish Sansa's relationship to Sandor. Maybe it's from a shipper standpoint. If anything, Arya's time spent with Sandor actually could set up the situation for Sansa and Sandor's relationship to grow into something more meaningful.

Sandor changed quite a bit from the Hound Sansa knew in King Landing, and Arya can attest to that. He offered to take Sansa and keep her safe, but he actually did do that to Arya (albiet with nefarious intent at first) He saved Arya multiple times.

Arya also saw that the gods found Sandor innocent of the crimes she and others held him accountable. He kept his word to her, just as he did Sansa. At one point, Sandor told Arya that he would serve their brother Robb. And Sandor talked about Sansa quite a bit while Arya was with him. This is bound to change Sansa and Sandor's dynamics, along with his time on the Quiet Isle: and she will realize the gods answered her: "save him if you can, and gentle the rage inside him." - A Clash of Kings Sansa V.

[inamindfarfaraway]

Headcanon that the incident that got Ramona sent to the Dark Forest Reform School involved Cerise throwing Ramona to the wolves and playing the victim to protect their secret. Maybe she lost control of her wolf side, accidentally wrecked her dorm room and blamed Ramona. Maybe someone came across the sisters playfighting in the woods and Cerise cried wolf attack to save face. This could explain why Ramona was removed from Ever After High while Faybelle wasn’t after allying with the Evil Queen. Firstly, Ramona seemed to pose an immediate threat to Cerise. Secondly, her alleged crime was not only malicious and dangerous, it indicated that she wasn't learning to follow her destiny. The Hood and Badwolf lines may be enemies, but no actual conflict is meant to occur outside their story, and in the story, the Big Bad Wolf is patient and controlled. He plays nice with Little Red Riding Hood. He waits for her to reach her grandmother's house and get close to him. Ramona recklessly jumping the gun showed disregard for her fairytale and was out-of-character for her role, unlike Faybelle's selfishness and spite. Milton had reason to fear that she'd go off-script again in the future.

Imagine Cerise's guilt. Imagine Ramona's heartbreak and betrayal. Imagine Cerise hating herself and the world every time she misses her sister. Imagine Ramona shutting Cerise out when Cerise visits her and tries to apologize. Imagine their dad understanding what happened, but barely being able to comfort his daughters due to Ramona's distance and his and Cerise's personas. The drama! The irony!

It's also the best setup I can think of for "A Big Bad Secret", where the girls both appear to genuinely resent each other, on top of pretending to hide their true relationship. Supporting quotes from the episode:

Raven, who knows the family secret, is against judging people by their legacies and therefore probably wouldn't express negativity about Ramona returning unless she thinks Ramona herself deserves it: Poor Cerise.

...

Blondie: Miss Hood, are the rumours true that it was your fault that Ramona Badwolf was sent away to the Dark Forest Reform School?

Cerise: What? I - no comment.

...

Cerise, about the excitement around the fight: This is ridiculous. I think we can settle our own problems.

...

Both sisters: Dad! She started it.

Ramona: I did not. Dad, Cerise is taking this ‘under the hood’ thing too far. "Ooh, mysterious secret. Look at me, I'm a Hood!" (exposes Cerise's ears)

Cerise: (pushes her away) I'm not doing it for me. You are so mean!

Badwolf: Muzzle it! You both know how it is.

Ramona: Yeah, yeah. If anyone knew the Big Bad Wolf was married to Little Red...

Cerise: They'd flip their crowns.

Badwolf: That's right.

Cerise tries to avoid attention, while Ramona publicly challenges her to a fight and lashes out at her precious reputation. She softens when reminded of the importance of the lie.

[nullandvoidhunter]

RP (my main account is @mstarcreates )Rules and whatever Read em

This is an RP account for my Destiny Void Hunter Tadi and his Ghost Null

To distinguish the two Null will be represented with the ∅ symbol

——

1. Tadi is not here to be romanced. I know he looks romancable he is not lol he will not flirt with your OCs the guy doesn’t know how.

2. This account is for fun and engagement with other Destiny RP accounts any rudeness will result in being blocked

3. Asks are always open

That’s really all I can think of I’ll add more later.

——

Tadi’s backstory:

He was originally known as Nomad in his pre-Guardian life and was a Crow until the House of Wolves discourse. He left the Awoken behind and instead joined the Eliksni on Europa where he became the Kell of the House of Silence. He spent many years there creating a close bond with the Eliksni that served under him. Unfortunately then the darkness came he was infected by it and later died.

He was reborn as a Guardian and given the name Tadi by his Ghost. He has no memory of his past but occasionally he still feels a pull to the Eliksni people and will often help them even though he doesn’t fully understand why.