#Mental exercises for sharpness

[10bmnews]

Sharp brain: 5 exercises and chores that keep your brain sharp at 40

Just like our bodies, our brain too, ages. However, since the symptoms of an ageing brain are not as prominent as that of the body (wrinkles, weight gain, hair fall etc), we tend to ignore the brain, which in fact is the most important organ of the body, along with the heart. However, exercising the brain is not that difficult, and if you have just hit 40 (or even 35) now is the best time to…

[lelopatienceklaas-blog]

Move It to Feel Amazing: 7 Surprising Benefits of Regular Exercise

Image by Daniel Reche from Pixabay Exercise isn’t just about getting into shape; it’s about feeling good inside and out. And trust me, once you start moving, you’ll wonder why you didn’t begin sooner. Let me share 7 amazing benefits of regular physical activity that’ll have you tying those shoelaces today! 1. Boosts Your Mood Feeling down? Exercise is like a natural happy pill. It releases…

[writestuffonline]

Boost Your Brain: Memory Enhancement Tricks

🧠 Ready to boost your brainpower and become a memory master? 🚀 Try these fun tricks to keep your mind sharp! 💡 It's time to level up your cognitive game. Let's get brainy! 😂📚💪 #BrainBoost #MemoryMagic #MindHacks #CognitiveGains #BrainyLife #Mental

I’ve learned that simple changes in our lives can greatly improve our memory. Our brains can change and get better at remembering things. This is thanks to new hobbies and staying active. This article will dive into how our brains can get better at remembering. By living a healthy life, our brains stay sharp, no matter how old we get. Let’s find out how to keep our memory strong every day. Key…

[diaryofareporter]

Unlock the secrets to a longer, healthier life with Edward Thorp! 🌟 Focus on healthy choices, mental sharpness, regular exercise, quality sleep, stress management, and strong social connections. Optimize your life for longevity!

[justposting1]

How I wake up at 3:14 am everyday | Train your Body Clock

How to train your biological body clock (Circadian Rhythm) to wake up early. Waking up early brings a sense of tranquility that’s hard to find during other parts of the day. The world seems so quiet, and while the rest of your family and friends are still fast asleep, you’re already up, washing your face, and sitting at your desk. There’s something empowering about getting ahead, whether it’s…

[baskeigh-ball]

4:00 am post? You better believe it

Have a slightly updated Mutant Manhunt Raph design! Don’t worry, his Battle Nexus outfit hasn’t gone anywhere— I just wanted his plastron visible to figure out what scars to add. I would not dare get rid of his drip

Couple of fun facts under the cut

Compared to canon, MM! Raph is slightly smaller and skinnier for a couple of reasons. The biggest being lack of proper nutrition, second being that he’s constantly training and fighting. Being a Nexus Champion and being in your teen years is a bad combination. Because this isn’t just your average exercise, it’s full on gladiatorial fights you’re having to undergo nearly every day, MULTIPLE times a day. Mans is gonna be a little worn thin, let’s be real

Because of his upbringing (the Mud Dogs not having resources due to being, well. Hardened criminals.) Raph never gets braces! So his teeth are a little fucked up, but Big Mama has no intentions of fixing that. He looks MUCH scarier and monstrous with crooked, fang-like teeth, which is exactly what she wants. It’s also useful in fights, so Raph prefers his fangs… even if he’s busted his lip more times than he’d care to count.

If you noticed that scar on the back of his head, you can probably guess where that came from. Having such a sharp shell is both a blessing and a curse: it’s useful until you’ve been flung backwards and your head makes contact with a sharp edge. Ouch.

Because he has to fight so often in a deadly environment, Savage Raph is in control a LOT. He’s also referred to as Raph’s battle persona, the Red Angel. Nearly every fight, he has to take over just to protect Raph’s mental wellbeing. Because of this, Red Angel is more “developed,” in a sense? Which just means he’s not dormant all the time and actually has a chance to experience being in control. Only problem is, he’s only in control when these fights are going down. So it’s gonna be a major shock to his system once he’s on the outside. And you better believe I have a planned scenario where the younger brothers meet Savage/Red Angel

[quarterlifekitty]

Post TBI Johnny who’s been making up all sorts of shit to keep the COs happy. Make them think he’s incredibly well adjusted and fit for service. Make it seem like he does more than just stare at cracks in the ceiling until his head pounds when he’s sent on leave.

His evaluations are well constructed plays. Talk about new hobbies, sports— axe throwing, failed attempts at crochet, making a mess of the kitchen with baking, trying a new drink every time he visits his favorite coffee place. Making it seem like he’s living his life to the fullest and has a healthy, engaged mind. He’s been slacking a little in the social engagement areas, though.

So he invents a girl. Talks about what he loves about her hair, how she’s so gentle with him, how they can barely keep their hands off each other, how she’s always reminding him to do his PT stretches and exercises. Soon enough he ticks that box as well.

Price knows about what goes on in these evaluations. Doesn’t approve necessarily, but doesn’t disapprove enough to bring it up as an issue. He has no proof, anyways— but he is worried. He knows what isolation does to a man who’s had chunks of himself torn away by combat.

So he subtly needles Johnny. Bring this bird around sometime, hm? Wanna meet the girl who’s been babysitting you, lad— give her my thanks for keeping you in check.

And Johnny could do a lot of things. Say she’s gone somewhere for work. Say they’ve broken up (this would only raise more concern as to his mental wellbeing). He’s in the middle of a rather narrow grocery aisle, lost in his dilemma, when he hears a gentle voice and a hand on the small of his back.

“Sorry, love— I’m just squeezing behind you,” you say as you nudge your way through to reach some marmalade. He looks your way and stares. You look back, not with fear or discomfort like he’s used to these days (with his sharp blues and the bright pink scar on his temple), but with a sort of surprised concern.

“You feeling alright there, love?”

Same hair and eyes. Gentle just like he’d said. A body he couldn’t be dragged off of, if he ever got his hands on it.

Maybe there was an easy solution for this.

Maybe someone up there likes him.

[tikitakatia]

Fixer Upper — A. Putellas x Reader

"Kicked Out of Pilates"

WC: 1.2k

Summary: You knew she´d be bad at it, but not this bad.

It starts with a smug grin and her famous last words.

“Babe, I’m a professional athlete.”

You don’t even look up from your protein shake. You just sigh, already sensing the incoming storm.

Alexia leans against the counter, arms crossed, still sweaty from training and radiating the kind of overconfidence that precedes something catastrophic. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna get much out of this class,” she says.

“I mean, come on. Pilates?”

You take a long sip of your drink, buying time before you say something sharp. Something like Pilates will destroy you and I will laugh. But instead, you go for neutral. Measured.

“It’s not about brute force,” you tell her.

“It’s about control, precision and core strength.”

Alexia snorts. Actually snorts. 

“My core could beat yours.” She says childishly. 

You raise an eyebrow. “You think this is a competition?”

“Everything’s a competition,” she shoots back, eyes gleaming.

You mutter something under your breath, but you let it go. Because part of you, okay well, all of you, wants to watch her crash and burn.

Just a little bit.

The studio smells like eucalyptus and like someone took the scent of a relaxing spa and bottled it up for mass consumption. You’re early, like always, so you begin stretching on the mat, calm and focused, while Alexia’s poking at the reformer like it might bite her.

“What is this?” she asks, genuinely baffled.

“It looks like a medieval torture device.”

“It’s about to become one.” You smirk.

She rolls her eyes, loud and unsubtle, and the instructor, a perfectly serene woman named Claudia who probably drinks her smoothies with spirulina, walks in.

“Everyone ready?” Claudia chirps.

You nod. Alexia does not.

Instead, she mumbles something about how she could’ve done squats at home and not wasted her morning pretending to be a ballerina. 

Claudia, bless her soul, just smiles and says, “Let’s begin with a neutral spine.”

Alexia turns to you and whispers, “What the hell is a neutral spine?”

You elbow her. “Shut up and engage your core.”

Ten minutes in, the cracks begin to show.

Claudia is calmly guiding everyone through slow, precise movements. Your body moves easily, years of muscle memory clicking into place.

You’re zoned in and focused. This is your space.

Alexia on the other hand, is struggling.

Not physically yet. But mentally, emotionally, spiritually? She’s fighting a war.

Her legs are shaking. Her arms are trembling. The reformer spring tension has betrayed her. And she will not stop talking.

“Is this even real exercise?”

“Why is this plank harder than usual?”

“Who invented these blocks? This is so dumb.”

“I think the machine’s broken. Babe. Babe, it’s broken.”

Claudia ignores her with the kind of professional detachment you aspire to one day achieve. You, however, are two seconds from faking a hamstring tear just to escape from your girlfriend´s dramatics.

The tipping point comes during a deceptively gentle sequence.

Claudia instructs the class to lie on their sides and do slow leg lifts with resistance bands. You’re breathing, focusing, engaged. You glance at Alexia.

Big mistake.

She’s propped on one elbow, face red, one leg halfway up and trembling violently, sweat dotting her forehead. She looks over at you, betrayal in her eyes.

“You’re not even struggling,” she hisses.

“I’ve been doing this for years,” you whisper back.

“Shut up and breathe.”

“I am breathing. I’m breathing fire.”

“Then maybe shut up and burn quietly.”

That’s when she mutters, not-so-quietly,

“This is physical abuse.”

Claudia turns, still smiling, still terrifying. “Alexia, why don’t we move you to the front? I can guide you better from here.”

It’s not a suggestion. It’s a death sentence.

Alexia tries to play it cool as she moves. You don’t even look at her. You can feel the smugness radiating off Claudia now.

She puts Alexia in the straps. Tightens the tension. Adjusts the springs. And then says five words that chill your soul.

“Let’s try an advanced variation.”

You silently cross yourself and send a prayer for your girlfriend.

Alexia makes it twenty more minutes.

Twenty minutes of being turned into human origami. Of grunting, groaning, arguing with the machine. At one point, she kicks a foam roller across the room and calls it “possessed.”

At another, she yells, “I CAN SPRINT FOR NINETY MINUTES BUT I CAN’T DO THIS FOR NINETY SECONDS.”

You’re hiding behind your towel, pretending you don’t know her. Claudia doesn’t even blink. She’s clearly dealt with worse, but even she has limits.

At the fifty-minute mark, Claudia claps her hands and says,

“Class dismissed. Except for you two. A word, please.”

You brace yourself.

The ban is delivered with kindness. Which somehow makes it worse.

“It’s not that we don’t welcome beginners,” Claudia says, folding her hands.

“But the... energy... today was a bit disruptive.”

You nod, already apologizing. You’re in full damage-control mode. Meanwhile, Alexia is sitting on a bench, legs trembling, trying to hide the fact that she might cry if she stands up again.

“I didn’t mean to be disruptive,” she mumbles softly, like a child that has been told off.

“I just, this isn’t what I expected.”

Claudia softens, just slightly and gives her a condescending pat on the shoulder.

“Pilates humbles everyone, but practice makes perfect.”

Back home, Alexia collapses face-first onto the couch.

You throw her a bottle of magnesium lotion and start rummaging for the heating pad.

“I can’t move,” she groans into a pillow.

“I think I pulled something in my psyche.”

“I told you it wasn’t a joke.”

“I thought it was gonna be stretching and breathing! I didn’t know it was, whatever the hell that was!”

You’re trying to stay mad. Really, you are. But she just looks so damn pathetic. Her legs are splayed, her hair’s a mess, and she’s still wearing one sock. The other was lost somewhere during a lunge series you’re not ready to talk about.

You crouch beside her and start massaging her calves, firm but careful.

She groans. Loudly and dramatically.

“Don’t make sex noises at me right now,” you mutter.

“This is better than sex,” she moans, then corrects herself,

“No, wait. Top three, though.”

You roll your eyes, but your hands don’t stop. She’s warm under your fingers, muscles tight, trembling a little. You dig into the knots, working them out slowly.

“I deserved this,” she mutters after a while.

“You did.”

“I’m sorry I made a scene.”

“You’re not.”

“Okay, I’m sorry you had to be there for it.”

That’s better.

You lean down, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. She sighs, letting you work, her body heavy and pliant beneath your hands now. Like all the fight’s drained out, leaving only the girl who trusted you enough to fall apart in a Pilates studio.

“You’re not taking me back there, are you?”

“No,” you say.

“They banned us.”

“Really?”

You nod.

Alexia lets out a sleepy laugh, one hand reaching back to pat your thigh.

“You’re still the hottest person in that studio,” she says.

You lean forward, lips brushing her ear.

“You got kicked out of Pilates.”

She groans. “Can we never talk about this again?”

But you will. Oh, you absolutely will.

Later when she’s recovered, she's cocky again. You´ll remind her that her Achilles’ heel is a twenty-dollar foam block and a woman named Claudia.

You press a final kiss to her temple, settle beside her on the couch, and pull the blanket over both of you.

“Next time,” she mumbles, already half-asleep,

“I pick the activity.”

You smile against her skin.

“Whatever you want, darling.”

[pawinoia]

A Different Kind Of Therapy

Relationship(s): Chance x Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Nails dug deep into their back, red streaks painting hot skin. The way you can feel every inch pulsing deep inside of you, tip kissing your cervix far more rough than how he's actually kissing you.

"You're so fucking tight," Chance mutters between each thrust, eyes trained on his cock disappearing into your cunt perfectly. Their thrusts seem so calculated, hips snapping quick enough to keep you a babbling mess of overstimulation and tears, but smooth enough so his pelvis brushes against your clit each time, and by god his moans, a perfect mix of whimpers and groans when you squeeze around him.

You're so thankful for having the luxury of separated cabins, moans reverberating so loudly you're certain anyone walking by could hear the well needed sex you and Chance were having.

Things have been hectic lately, with the addition of a new killer everyone's been raving about with paranoia. Granted, having been a liscenced therapist before being sent to this.. purgatory, if you will, You do your best to help around with keeping everyone mentally stable enough to keep pushing on.

With surivors like Two Time, your job is a little harder dealing with someone actually brainwashed. 007n7 has been taking the addition of Noli especially hard. From what you've learned from your therapy sessions with him, the two were inseparable. Naturally, this new character would only cause 007n7 to spiral once more.

While you do love your role here, it does take its own toll on your mental state too.

Overcome with empathy and worry for your team members, you've been putting aside your own feelings to help them a little more. Longer sessions, Further in-depth questioning, more engaging exercises.

Chance was very quick to notice the slow drop in your mental health. They would bring it up often, asking if there was anything he could do to help you; be it cleaning the cabin anytime you were away so you always came back to an organized space, having Elliot help him make your favorite dishes, or even giving you the space to just be you.

And though it did help, the weight of everyone else's problems applied more pressure on your mind than anything.

So, when you asked Chance for a favor, he'd drop whatever he was doing to help. Especially now.

 

"C-close," you barely manage to get the word past your lips, quickly drowned in your moans again. One of your hands on their back tangles in their hair, tugging rough enough to make Chance hiss softly, a light moan slipping past his lips.

"I got you sweetheart," He pants, knuckles turned white from how hard his hand had been gripping the headboard. Their other hand slips down your body to rub quick, heavy circles on your clit, their rhythm changed so they could angle their hips just right to hit the sweetest spot in your body.

Pulling them closer, they're quick to busy himself with sucking hickeys into your skin, sharp teeth leaving bites on your collar bones and shoulders, almost enough to break skin and make you bleed.

"You gonna make a mess fa'me, huh?" They laugh, making sure to keep a consistent pace - especially when your legs cage them in tightly.

Your moans begin to grow lighter, and Chance watches the adorable expression on your face as your head drops back into the pillows, sobbing as yet another orgasm wracks through your body, adding to the foamy white ring around Chance's cock.

He coos sweet praises into your ear, carrying you through your orgasm. "Don't stop," you murmur, repeating yourself over and over. Chance is surprised, honestly, yet obeys your wishes, readjusting himself.

"Are you sure?" He asks, just wanting to make sure that this is really what you want, slowly moving his hips.

"Yes, please," You cry, hips stuttering occasionally from the aftershocks of your orgasm. "Jus' don't stop, need you,"

Chance raises his eyebrows, listening to you beg, even if you already have him. They place a sweet kiss to your forehead, gently running a hand through your hair.

"Need you so bad."

Chance watches your desperate actions as you rock your hips just to feel him inside you again, as though he wasn't already there.

They think they're even harder than they were just a second ago.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

460 Adjectives

as reference for your next poem/story

BEHAVIOURAL ADJECTIVES

Affectionate - feeling or showing affection or warm regard; loving

Adoring - feeling or showing great affection and devotion

Affable - being pleasant and at ease in talking to others

Amorous - strongly moved by love; enamored

Caring - feeling or showing concern for or kindness to others

Devoted - characterized by loyalty and devotion

Loving - affectionate

Sweet - pleasing to the mind or feelings; agreeable, gratifying

Sympathetic - given to, marked by, or arising from sympathy, compassion, friendliness, and sensitivity to others' emotions

Tenderhearted - easily moved to love, pity, or sorrow; compassionate, impressionable

Agreeable - ready or willing to agree or consent; being in harmony

Courteous - marked by respect for and consideration of others

Decorous - marked by propriety and good taste; correct

Gallant - nobly chivalrous and often self-sacrificing

Gracious - marked by kindness and courtesy

Pleasant - having qualities that tend to give pleasure; agreeable

Polite - marked by an appearance of consideration, tact, deference, or courtesy

Respectful - marked by or showing respect or deference

Well-behaved - behaving in a polite or correct way

Well-mannered - having good manners; polite

Amiable - friendly, sociable, and congenial; generally agreeable

Affable - being pleasant and at ease in talking to others

Congenial - sociable, genial

Convivial - relating to, occupied with, or fond of feasting, drinking, and good company

Cordial - showing or marked by warm and often hearty friendliness, favor, or approval

Friendly - serving a beneficial or helpful purpose

Genial - marked by or freely expressing sympathy or friendliness

Hospitable - promising or suggesting generous and friendly welcome

Warm - marked by or readily showing affection, gratitude, cordiality, or sympathy

Welcoming - to greet hospitably and with courtesy or cordiality

Cheerful - full of good spirits; merry

Buoyant - cheerful, gay

Cheery - marked by cheerfulness or good spirits

Forward-looking - concerned with or planning for the future

Hopeful - full of hope; inclined to hope

Lighthearted - cheerfully optimistic and hopeful; easygoing

Optimistic - of, relating to, or characterized by optimism; feeling or showing hope for the future

Positive - marked by optimism

Sanguine - marked by eager hopefulness; confidently optimistic

Upbeat - cheerful, optimistic

Clever - mentally quick and resourceful

Astute - mentally sharp or clever

Bright - intelligent, clever

Brilliant - distinguished by unusual mental keenness or alertness

Intelligent - guided or directed by intellect; rational

Knowledgeable - having or showing knowledge or intelligence

Quick-witted - quick in perception and understanding

Sharp - keen in intellect; quick-witted

Smart - intelligent, bright; witty, clever

Wise - marked by deep understanding, keen discernment, and a capacity for sound judgment

Eloquent - marked by forceful and fluent expression

Articulate - expressing oneself readily, clearly, and effectively

Graceful - displaying grace in form or action

Influential - exerting or possessing influence (i.e., the act or power of producing an effect without apparent exertion of force or direct exercise of command)

Persuasive - tending to persuade (i.e., to plead with; urge)

Poised - marked by easy composure of manner or bearing

Refined - fastidious, cultivated

Silver-tongued - marked by convincing and eloquent expression

Smooth-tongued - ingratiating in speech; persuasive

Well-spoken - speaking well, fitly, or courteously

Good-natured - of a pleasant and cooperative disposition

Benevolent - marked by or disposed to doing good

Big-hearted - generous, charitable

Compassionate - having or showing compassion; sympathetic

Considerate - thoughtful of the rights and feelings of others

Good-hearted - having a kindly generous disposition

Helpful - of service or assistance; useful

Kind - of a sympathetic or helpful nature

Nice - polite, kind

Thoughtful - given to or chosen or made with heedful anticipation of the needs and wants of others

Patient - not hasty or impetuous; steadfast despite opposition, difficulty, or adversity

Accommodating - willing to please; helpful, obliging

Forbearing - to hold oneself back from especially with an effort

Forgiving - willing or able to forgive (i.e., pardon)

Long-suffering - patiently enduring lasting offense or hardship

Stoical - firmly restraining response to pain or distress

Tolerant - permitting or accepting something (such as a behavior or belief) that one does not like

Uncomplaining - not complaining; patient

Understanding - endowed with understanding; tolerant, sympathetic

Unexcitable - not responsive to stimuli

Reflective - marked by reflection; thoughtful, deliberative

Contemplative - marked by or given to contemplation (i.e., an act of considering with attention)

Insightful - exhibiting or characterized by insight (i.e., the act or result of apprehending the inner nature of things or of seeing intuitively)

Introspective - characterized by examination of one's own thoughts and feelings; thoughtfully reflective

Inward-looking - more interested in themselves than in other people or societies

Meditative - marked by or conducive to meditation (i.e., a discourse intended to express its author's reflections or to guide others in contemplation)

Pensive - musingly or dreamily thoughtful

Self-analyzing - relating to or using self-analysis (i.e., a systematic attempt by an individual to understand his or her own personality without the aid of another person)

Self-examining - a reflective examination (as of one's beliefs or motives); introspective

Self-observing - introspective

Sensible - having, containing, or indicative of good sense or reason

Analytical - skilled in or using analysis especially in thinking or reasoning

Cerebral - primarily intellectual in nature

Judicious - having, exercising, or characterized by sound judgment

Logical - capable of reasoning or of using reason in an orderly cogent fashion

Practical - actively engaged in some course of action or occupation

Pragmatic - relating to matters of fact or practical affairs often to the exclusion of intellectual or artistic matters; practical

Rational - relating to, based on, or agreeable to reason

Realistic - able to see things as they really are and to deal with them in a practical way

Reasonable - being in accordance with reason

Valiant - possessing or acting with bravery or boldness

Adventurous - disposed to seek adventure or to cope with the new and unknown

Bold - fearless before danger

Courageous - having or characterized by courage; brave

Dauntless - incapable of being intimidated or subdued

Fearless - free from fear

Gallant - spirited, brave

Heroic - exhibiting or marked by courage and daring

Plucky - spirited, brave

Valorous - valiant

Apprehensive - viewing the future with anxiety or alarm

Doubtful - marked by qualities that raise doubts about worth, honesty, or validity

Hesitant - slow to act or proceed (as from fear, indecision, or unwillingness)

Insecure - beset by fear and anxiety

Mistrustful - to be suspicious

Self-conscious - uncomfortably conscious of oneself as an object of the observation of others; ill at ease

Self-doubting - timid, diffident, insecure

Self-effacing - having or showing a tendency to make oneself modestly or shyly inconspicuous

Uncertain - not having certain knowledge; doubtful

Unconfident - lacking in confidence; unsure

Disillusioned - having lost faith or trust in something formerly regarded as good or valuable

Bleak - not hopeful or encouraging; depressing

Cynical - contemptuously distrustful of human nature and motives

Defeatist - an attitude of accepting, expecting, or being resigned to defeat

Downbeat - pessimistic, gloomy

Fatalistic - hacing a belief or attitude determined by a doctrine that events are fixed in advance so that human beings are powerless to change them

Hardened - callous

Negative - marked by features of hostility, withdrawal, or pessimism

Pessimistic - of, relating to, or characterized by pessimism; gloomy

Skeptical - relating to, characteristic of, or marked by skepticism (i.e., an attitude of doubt or a disposition to incredulity either in general or toward a particular object)

Dull - tedious, uninteresting

Bland - dull, insipid

Boring - causing weariness and restlessness through lack of interest

Charmless - unattractive or unpleasant

Stodgy - boring, dull

Tiresome - wearisome, tedious

Uncharismatic - lacking charisma (i.e., a special magnetic charm or appeal)

Unexciting - not exciting; dull, commonplace

Uninspiring - not having an animating or exalting effect

Uninteresting - not attracting interest or attention

Fierce - violently hostile or aggressive in temperament

Aggressive - marked by obtrusive energy and self-assertiveness

Antagonistic - showing dislike or opposition

Argumentative - having or showing a tendency to disagree or argue with other people in an angry way; disputatious

Bellicose - favoring or inclined to start quarrels or wars

Belligerent - inclined to or exhibiting assertiveness, hostility, or combativeness

Confrontational - clashing of forces or ideas; conflict

Defiant - full of or showing a disposition to challenge, resist, or fight; bold, impudent

Hostile - marked by malevolence; having or showing unfriendly feelings

Violent - emotionally agitated to the point of using harmful physical force

Impassive - giving no sign of feeling or emotion

Aloof - removed or distant either physically or emotionally

Apathetic - having or showing little or no interest, concern, or emotion

Cold - marked by a lack of the warmth of normal human emotion, friendliness, or compassion

Detached - exhibiting an aloof objectivity usually free from prejudice or self-interest

Dispassionate - not affected by personal or emotional involvement

Expressionless - lacking expression

Indifferent - marked by a lack of interest, enthusiasm, or concern for something

Stoic - not affected by or showing passion or feeling

Unemotional - not easily aroused or excited; cold

Lethargic - of, relating to, or characterized by laziness or lack of energy

Idle - not occupied or employed

Inactive - not active; sedentary

Indolent - averse to activity, effort, or movement; habitually lazy

Inert - very slow to move or act

Languid - sluggish in character or disposition; listless

Lazy - disinclined to activity or exertion; not energetic or vigorous

Slothful - inclined to sloth; indolent

Slow-moving - slow-footed, slowgoing

Sluggish - averse to activity or exertion; indolent; torpid

Mysterious - exciting wonder, curiosity, or surprise while baffling efforts to comprehend or identify; mystifying

Closemouthed - cautious in speaking; uncommunicative; also: secretive

Discreet - having or showing discernment or good judgment in conduct and especially in speech; prudent

Enigmatic - of, relating to, or resembling an enigma; mysterious

Evasive - tending or intended to evade; equivocal

Inscrutable - not readily investigated, interpreted, or understood; mysterious

Secretive - disposed to secrecy; not open or outgoing in speech, activity, or purposes

Taciturn - temperamentally disinclined to talk

Tight-lipped - reluctant to speak; taciturn

Uncommunicative - not disposed to talk or impart information; reserved

Odious - arousing or deserving hatred or repugnance; hateful

Abhorrent - causing or deserving strong dislike or hatred; being so repugnant as to stir up positive antagonism

Despicable - deserving to be despised; so worthless or obnoxious as to rouse moral indignation

Detestable - arousing or meriting intense dislike; abominable

Hateful - full of hate; malicious; deserving of or arousing hate

Horrible - extremely bad or unpleasant

Loathsome - giving rise to loathing; disgusting

Unkind - not pleasing or mild; inclement; harsh, cruel

Vicious - dangerously aggressive; savage

Vile - morally despicable or abhorrent

Presumptuous - overstepping due bounds (as of propriety or courtesy); taking liberties

Audacious - intrepidly daring; adventurous; recklessly bold

Bad-mannered - discourteous, disrespectful, ill-bred, impolite

Churlish - of, resembling, or characteristic of a churl; vulgar

Discourteous - lacking courtesy; rude

Disrespectful - to show or express disrespect or contempt for; insult, dis

Ill-mannered - having bad manners; rude

Impolite - not polite; rude

Impudent - marked by contemptuous or cocky boldness or disregard of others; insolent

Rude - offensive in manner or action; discourteous

Prickly - vexatious; easily irritated

Bad-tempered - easily annoyed or angered; surly, ill-tempered

Cantankerous - difficult or irritating to deal with

Crabby - easily irritated; peevish and irritable; grouchy

Curmudgeonly - (especially of an old person) bad-tempered and negative

Grouchy - given to grumbling; peevish

Ill-natured - having a bad disposition; cross, surly

Irritable - easily exasperated or excited

Sensitive - highly responsive or susceptible

Surly - irritably sullen and churlish in mood or manner; crabbed

Proud - having or displaying excessive self-esteem

Cocky - boldly or brashly self-confident

Conceited - having or showing an excessively high opinion of oneself

Haughty - blatantly and disdainfully proud; having or showing an attitude of superiority and contempt for people or things perceived to be inferior

Overbearing - harshly and haughtily arrogant

Overconfident - excessively or unjustifiably confident; having too much confidence (as in one's abilities or judgment)

Pompous - having or exhibiting self-importance; arrogant

Smug - highly self-satisfied

Snobbish - being, characteristic of, or befitting a snob (i.e., one who has an offensive air of superiority in matters of knowledge or taste)

Supercilious - coolly and patronizingly haughty

Silly - exhibiting or indicative of a lack of common sense or sound judgment

Brainless - devoid of intelligence

Dense - slow to understand

Foolish - having or showing a lack of good sense, judgment, or discretion

Idiotic - showing complete lack of thought or common sense

Ignorant - destitute of knowledge or education; unaware, uninformed

Mindless - marked by or displaying no use of the powers of the intellect

Slow-witted - mentally slow

Vapid - acking flavor, zest, interest, animation, or spirit; flat, dull

Witless - lacking wit or understanding; foolish

Talkative - given to talking

Babbling - idle, foolish, or nonsensical talk or chatter

Blathering - engaging in or characterized by foolish or nonsensical talk or writing

Chatty - fond of chatting; talkative

Conversational - given to conversation

Garrulous - given to prosy, rambling, or tedious loquacity; pointlessly or annoyingly talkative

Gossipy - characterized by, full of, or given to gossip (i.e., rumor or report of an intimate nature)

Loquacious - given to fluent or excessive talk; garrulous

Rambling - straying from subject to subject

Verbose - given to wordiness

Timid - lacking in courage or self-confidence

Bashful - socially shy or timid

Diffident - reserved, unassertive

Introverted - possessing a reserved or quiet nature typically with an inclination to solitude

Meek - deficient in spirit and courage; submissive

Reserved - restrained in words and actions

Reticent - inclined to be silent or uncommunicative in speech

Sheepish - meek, timid

Shy - easily frightened; timid

Withdrawn - socially detached and unresponsive

Tightfisted - reluctant to part with money

Avaricious - greedy of gain; excessively acquisitive especially in seeking to hoard riches

Close-fisted - unwilling to spend money; stingy

Miserly - marked by grasping meanness and penuriousness

Parsimonious - frugal to the point of stinginess; sparing

Penny-pinching - frugal

Penurious - given to or marked by extreme stinting frugality

Scroogelike - not generous with money; miserly

Stingy - not generous or liberal; sparing or scant in using, giving, or spending

Ungenerous - not generous; petty, mean; stingy

EMOTIONAL ADJECTIVES

Angry - feeling or showing anger (i.e., a strong feeling of displeasure and usually of antagonism)

Enraged - very angry; furious

Furious - exhibiting or goaded by anger

Incensed - very angry; enraged

Infuriated - furiously angry

Irate - roused to ire; arising from anger

Raging - causing great pain or distress

Seething - constantly moving or active; agitated

Upset - emotionally disturbed or agitated

Wrathful - filled with wrath; irate

Calm - free from agitation, excitement, or disturbance; still

Peaceful - untroubled by conflict, agitation, or commotion

Relaxed - easy of manner

Sedate - keeping a quiet steady attitude or pace; unruffled

Serene - marked by or suggestive of utter calm and unruffled repose or quietude

Tranquil - free from agitation of mind or spirit

Unbothered - not feeling or showing agitation, worry, or annoyance

Unflappable - marked by assurance and self-control

Unperturbed - not worried, upset, or disquieted

Untroubled - not given trouble; not made uneasy; calm

Cheerful - conducive to cheer; likely to dispel gloom or worry

Beaming - radiant; bright; smiling brightly; cheerful

Content - contented, satisfied

Gleeful - full of glee; merry

Happy - glad, pleased

Jocular - characterized by jesting; playful

Jovial - characterized by good-humored cheerfulness and conviviality; jolly

Joyful - experiencing, causing, or showing joy; happy

Merry - full of gaiety or high spirits; mirthful

Radiant - marked by or expressive of love, confidence, or happiness

Content - contented, satisfied

Appreciative - having or showing appreciation (i.e., a feeling or expression of admiration, approval, or gratitude)

Fulfilled - feeling happiness and satisfaction

Grateful - appreciative of benefits received

Gruntled - in good humor; happy, contented

Pleased - feeling or showing pleasure and satisfaction, especially at an event or a situation

Satisfied - pleased or content with what has been experienced or received

Thankful - well pleased; glad

Untroubled - not given trouble; not made uneasy

Unworried - not afflicted with mental distress or agitation

Disgruntled - unhappy and annoyed

Agitated - troubled in mind; disturbed and upset

Annoyed - feeling or showing angry irritation

Cross - marked by typically transitory bad temper

Distressed - of, relating to, or experiencing economic decline or difficulty

Exasperated - having or showing strong feelings of irritation or annoyance

Irritable - easily exasperated or excited

Resentful - full of resentment (i.e., a feeling of indignant displeasure or persistent ill will at something regarded as a wrong, insult, or injury)

Stressed - subjected to or affected by stress (i.e., bodily or mental tension)

Vexed - feeling or showing irritation, annoyance, or distress

Jealous - hostile toward a rival or one believed to enjoy an advantage

Begrudging - said, done, or given reluctantly; grudging

Bitter - exhibiting intense animosity

Covetous - marked by inordinate desire for wealth or possessions or for another's possessions

Desirous - impelled or governed by desire (i.e., conscious impulse toward something that promises enjoyment or satisfaction in its attainment)

Envious - feeling or showing envy

Grudging - unwilling, reluctant

Malicious - having or showing a desire to cause harm to someone; given to, marked by, or arising from malice (i.e., desire to cause pain, injury, or distress to another)

Resentful - caused or marked by resentment (i.e., a feeling of indignant displeasure or persistent ill will at something regarded as a wrong, insult, or injury)

Spiteful - filled with or showing spite; malicious

Lively - briskly alert and energetic; vigorous, animated

Animated - full of vigor and spirit; lively

Elated - marked by high spirits; exultant

Electrified - to excite intensely or suddenly

Energetic - operating with or marked by vigor or effect

Enthusiastic - filled with or marked by enthusiasm (i.e., strong excitement of feeling)

Excited - having, showing, or characterized by a heightened state of energy, enthusiasm, eagerness, etc.

Exhilarated - very happy and excited or elated

Spirited - full of energy, animation, or courage

Thrilled - extremely pleased and excited

Unhappy - not cheerful or glad; sad, wretched

Crestfallen - feeling shame or humiliation; dejected

Dejected - low in spirits; depressed

Gloomy - low in spirits; melancholy

Glum - broodingly morose

Grief-stricken - very sad; deeply affected by grief

Melancholic - of, relating to, or subject to melancholy; depressed

Miserable - being in a pitiable state of distress or unhappiness

Sad - affected with or expressive of grief or unhappiness; downcast

Sorrowful - expressive of or inducing sorrow (i.e., resultant unhappy or unpleasant state)

PHYSICAL ADJECTIVES

Aged - grown old

Ancient - having had an existence of many years; venerable

Centenarian - one that is 100 years old or older

Elderly - of, relating to, or characteristic of later life or elderly persons

Gray-haired - having gray hair; of or relating to old age or old people

Mature - of, relating to, or being an older adult; elderly

Nonagenarian - a person whose age is in the nineties

Old - advanced in years or age

Senior - a person older than another; of, relating to, or intended for seniors

Wrinkled - to become marked with or contracted into wrinkles

Attractive - arousing interest or pleasure; charming

Beautiful - having qualities of beauty; exciting aesthetic pleasure

Dashing - marked by vigorous action; spirited

Fetching - attractive, appealing

Good-looking - having a pleasing or attractive appearance

Gorgeous - splendidly or showily brilliant or magnificent

Handsome - having a pleasing and usually impressive or dignified appearance

Pretty - having conventionally accepted elements of beauty

Striking - attracting attention or notice through unusual or conspicuous qualities

Stunning - strikingly impressive especially in beauty or excellence

Average - not out of the ordinary; common

Forgettable - fit or likely to be forgotten

Homely - plain or unattractive in appearance

Mediocre - of moderate or low quality, value, ability, or performance

Ordinary-looking - not different or special or unexpected in any way; usual

Plain - lacking ornament; undecorated

Plain-featured - ordinary

Plain-looking - not beautiful, distinctive, or remarkable in appearance; normal

Unexceptional - not out of the ordinary; commonplace

Unremarkable - unworthy or unlikely to be noticed; not remarkable; common, ordinary

Feeble - markedly lacking in strength

Decrepit - wasted and weakened by or as if by the infirmities of old age

Delicate - not robust in health or constitution; weak, sickly

Doddering - showing or involving a loss of physical or cognitive abilities in old age

Frail - easily broken or destroyed; fragile; physically weak

Infirm - of poor or deteriorated vitality, especially: feeble from age

Sickly - somewhat unwell, also : habitually ailing

Unwell - being in poor health; ailing, sick

Wan - suggestive of poor health; sickly, pallid

Weak - lacking strength

Muscular - of or relating to physical strength; full-bodied

Athletic - vigorous, active

Brawny - muscular, also: strong, powerful

Burly - strongly and heavily built

Fit - sound physically and mentally

Herculean - of extraordinary power, extent, intensity, or difficulty

Powerful - having great power, prestige, or influence

Robust - having or exhibiting strength or vigorous health

Strong - having or marked by great physical power

Sturdy - firmly built or constituted 

Short - having little length; not tall or high

Diminutive - exceptionally or notably small

Little - not big

Petite - having a small trim figure

Pint-sized - small

Short-legged - having short legs, particularly in proportion to one's body

Small - having comparatively little size or slight dimensions

Stubby - being short and thick

Teeny - tiny

Tiny - very small or diminutive; minute

Sophisticated - deprived of native or original simplicity

Chic - cleverly stylish; smart

Dapper - neat and trim in appearance

Dignified - showing or expressing dignity (i.e., formal reserve or seriousness of manner, appearance, or language)

Elegant - of a high grade or quality; splendid

Majestic - having or exhibiting majesty; stately

Noble - possessing outstanding qualities; illustrious

Regal - of notable excellence or magnificence; splendid

Stately - marked by lofty or imposing dignity; haughty

Stylish - conforming to current fashion

Stout - bulky in body

Big - large or great in dimensions, bulk, or extent

Chubby - somewhat fat; having a full, rounded form

Heavy - having great weight

Large - exceeding most other things of like kind especially in quantity or size

Overweight - exceeding expected, normal, or proper weight

Plump - having a full rounded usually pleasing form

Plus-size - extra large

Portly - heavy or rotund of body; stout

Potbellied - having a potbelly (i.e., an enlarged, swollen, or protruding abdomen)

Tall - high in stature

Colossal - of, relating to, or resembling a colossus (i.e., a person or thing of immense size or power)

Gangling - tall, thin, and awkwardly built; lanky, gangly

Giant - having extremely large size, proportion, or power

Gigantic - exceeding the usual or expected (as in size, force, or prominence)

Long-legged - having long legs

Massive - forming or consisting of a large mass; bulky; weighty

Monstrous - having extraordinary often overwhelming size

Statuesque - having a tall and shapely form

Towering - impressively high or great; imposing

Thin - not well fleshed; lean

Angular - lean and having prominent bone structure

Bony - having prominent bones

Lean - lacking or deficient in flesh

Scrawny - exceptionally thin and slight or meager in body or size

Skinny - lacking usual or desirable bulk, quantity, qualities, or significance

Slender - spare in frame or flesh, especially: gracefully slight

Slim - of small diameter or thickness in proportion to the height or length; slender

Underweight - weighing less than the normal or requisite amount

Willowy - pliant; gracefully tall and slender

Unattractive - not attractive; plain, dull

Ugly - offensive to the sight; hideous

Displeasing - to incur the disapproval or dislike of especially by annoying; to give displeasure

Hideous - offensive to the senses and especially to sight; exceedingly ugly

Ghastly - terrifyingly horrible to the senses; frightening

Repulsive - tending to repel or reject; cold, forbidding; arousing aversion or disgust

Unpleasant - not pleasant; not amiable or agreeable; displeasing

Grotesque - fanciful, bizarre; absurdly incongruous; departing markedly from the natural, the expected, or the typical

Revolting - extremely offensive

Unsightly - not pleasing to the sight; not comely

Young - being in the first or an early stage of life, growth, or development

Adolescent - of, relating to, or being in adolescence; emotionally or intellectually immature

Boyish - of, like, or characteristic of a male child or young man

Childlike - resembling, suggesting, or appropriate to a child or childhood, especially: marked by innocence, trust, and ingenuousness

Girlish - of, relating to, or having the characteristics of a girl or girlhood

Juvenile - reflecting psychological or intellectual immaturity; childish

Immature - exhibiting less than an expected degree of maturity

Teenaged - of, being, relating to, or intended for teenagers (i,e., someone who is between 13 and 19 years old)

Underage - of less than mature or legal age

Youthful - having the vitality or freshness of youth; vigorous

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs +600 Traits ⚜ 170 Quirks ⚜ 200+ Character Quirks ⚜ Types of Adjectives

[cece693]

could I maybe request something for a male reader and hannigram? something where the reader is always really quiet and generally avoids people so everyone thinks he’s shy, but one conversation with him shows that he is NOT shy—he’s just on the verge of murdering someone constantly. ‘Never plan a murder out loud’ type shit

so idk like quiet, anger issues-y type of reader? anyways thanks :3

On the Tip of Your Tongue

pairing: hannigram x male reader tags: reader isn't who he seems, hannigram is supportive, no murder today, short but sweet, kinda au

You’ve always been the quiet type—or at least, that’s what everyone thinks. You’re the coworker who slips in and out of the office with barely a nod in passing. The neighbor who’s so hard to catch in conversation that people decide you must be shy or painfully introverted. After all, you rarely speak unless spoken to, and even then, it’s usually just a few carefully chosen words.

But Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham know better.

They see the way your eyes linger a second too long on potential threats. They hear the deliberate pace of your breathing when you’d rather lash out than listen to unwelcome commentary. They’ve witnessed how your fists tighten and then relax at your sides, an exercise in self-control so you don’t do something you’d regret—or maybe something you’ve been itching to do all day.

No one suspects that you’re coiled tight like a predator, mentally skirting the edge of violence at every sharp word or rude glance. Well, no one besides your boyfriends.

You live with Will and Hannibal in a large, old house on the outskirts of Baltimore. It’s tastefully furnished—Hannibal’s touch, of course—with warm wooden floors and richly colored walls. Tucked into a corner near the fireplace is a battered armchair that’s Will’s favorite spot. When you get home from work tonight, you find Will curled up there, jacket tossed over the chair’s arm, while Hannibal stands by the mantle, hands clasped behind his back.

“There you are,” Will says, sounding relieved. “Busy day?”

You loosen your tie with a quick tug and hang it over the coat rack. “Something like that.”

“‘Something like that’?” Hannibal repeats with a faint tilt of his head. He steps forward, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “It’s rare you come home so tense.”

You offer him a crooked half-smile. “I had a run-in at work.”

Will sits up straighter, frowning. “Everything okay?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you say, your voice low. You’re aware, in that moment, that anyone else would have shrugged it off with a polite, noncommittal phrase. But you don’t bother hiding the edge in your tone. Not in front of these two men. “Let’s just say I gave someone a wake-up call.”

It’s Will’s turn to smile, the corner of his mouth quirking with interest. “I’m guessing there’s more to the story than that.”

You shrug. “Maybe a bit.”

Earlier That Day

You work at a forensic consulting office attached to the FBI. You’re not a profiler—Will’s got that covered, and so does Hannibal, in his own capacity—but your role is instrumental. You file case reports, cross-reference data, catalog evidence, and do some background research that often proves vital. It’s not glamorous, but you do it well. Quiet competence, that’s your calling card. Nobody expects the seemingly shy, unassuming coworker to have sharp claws.

Apparently, Joseph Sykes in the archives department was in the mood to push buttons today. He’d made an offhand remark about your “lack of communication skills,” implying you were borderline useless in a high-stakes environment. Maybe if you were more gregarious, you’d climb the ladder faster.

You could practically feel your temper thrumming. There’s a little tingle in your fingertips, that familiar rush of heat across your temples. The darkness that’s always lurking on the edges of your mind wanted to creep in, to let you imagine just how easy it might be to…

No. Not here. You repeated the same mantra you always do. Never plan a murder out loud, and never lose your cool so publicly.

Instead, you turned to face him slowly. You allowed the silence to stretch until Joseph got a little uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot. When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet enough that only he could hear, but laced with a menace that forced him to pay attention.

“Joseph,” you said, leaning in slightly, “I don’t need to be loud to get results. If you want to see me really speak up, keep trying to push me.”

His expression froze as he realized that, beneath the polite exterior, something lethal flickered behind your eyes. You gave him a small, dangerous smile, then calmly walked away. He was left standing there, mouth slightly open, unsure of what to say.

Back Home

Will’s eyebrows lift as you finish recounting the incident. “You put him in his place without even raising your voice?”

“Didn’t have to.” You shrug, crossing the room to where Hannibal stands. He places a hand lightly on your shoulder, warmth radiating through his long fingers.

“We all have our own ways of asserting dominance,” Hannibal murmurs, a private amusement in his tone. “I’m glad you didn’t escalate things. Though, one day, perhaps you’ll indulge me and share how you control that hunger.” His eyes flick over yours, curious and admiring.

“I don’t know if you’re the last person who should be encouraging that or the best person,” you tease. “But it’s not about control so much as picking the right moment. I’m not going to waste my time or energy on something that small.”

Will stands, padding softly over to the two of you. “That’s what I love about you,” he says. “Everyone thinks you’re just quiet and shy, but the reality is far more interesting. You’ve got more bite in you than half the people at the Bureau combined.”

You offer a wry smile, stepping closer so that Will can take your hand, and Hannibal, your other. “There’s a lot they don’t know, that’s for sure.”

A small silence settles over the three of you—comfortable, warm. Even with your smoldering anger from earlier, you can’t help but feel at peace here. In their presence, your edges don’t feel quite so sharp. There’s an understanding that hums beneath the surface; you don’t need to watch your every word or apologize for the way your thoughts naturally veer. Will and Hannibal know who you are in your quiet moments and in the moments where the darkness tries to seep out from behind your eyes.

And they accept you, entirely.

Later that night, you’re in the kitchen with Hannibal. He’s slicing vegetables for a late dinner, and the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board is almost hypnotic. You lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching him with a lazy sort of fascination.

Without looking away from his task, Hannibal speaks up. “There’s a question on your mind.”

You exhale slowly, pushing off the counter to stand at his side. “I’m not sure it’s a question so much as an observation. Everyone at work still thinks I’m meek. Even after all this time. When someone like Sykes decides to test me…some part of me wants to prove them wrong in a very, very final way.”

Hannibal’s lips curl into that refined, knowing smile. “The instincts we share can be…difficult to restrain. But you have an advantage: clarity. You know when to yield, and you know when to stand your ground. That’s more power than you realize.”

He sets the knife down and meets your gaze, eyes dark with a fond, predatory glint. “And perhaps you enjoy having them underestimate you.”

Will appears in the doorway then, shoulders relaxed. “Dinner almost ready?” he asks lightly, though he picks up on the electricity in the air. His gaze dances between you and Hannibal, reflecting his quiet understanding of the unspoken tension you both carry.

“Almost,” Hannibal replies, returning to his slicing.

Will moves close enough to rest a hand on your lower back. “And you? You alright now?” His tone is gentle.

You let out a tight breath and allow yourself to lean into his touch, if only a little. “I’m fine.” Your voice drops, turning wry. “Calmer than I was earlier, anyway.”

“Glad to hear it,” Will says. He presses a light kiss just behind your ear. It’s casual affection, but it’s enough to smooth out the last of your lingering frustration.

You smile, truly smile, for the first time that evening. Because this moment—this comfortable, domestic moment with Hannibal and Will—is what keeps you anchored. You can keep your secrets and your darkness close, but never alone. You can unleash your quieter, deadlier side at will, knowing they won’t turn away from you. If anything, it only draws you closer.

[hannieween]

the traitor | yoon jeonghan

› pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader › aus: demon hunter jeonghan, supernatural au, demon reader › genres: angst, smut (18+) › word count: 8.4k

› 🎧: mood – dpr ian | shameless – yuni | symphony – highvyn ft. jey | read your mind – meloh | dive – jooyoung | dead man running – seulgi | for us – v | moonstruck – enhypen | war-r-r – colde

› this is part 2 of the curse - hannieween fest

› warnings after the cut! READ THEM CAREFULLY 🗣️

› warnings: smut with plot, unprotected p in v sex, oral sex (both receivers), pussy drunk jeonghan, cockdrunk reader, cum swallowing, creampies, cowgirl, mating press. pet names: baby, baby demon (hers)

› disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

› author's note: this is part two of my demon hunter hannie! hehe i loved writing it sm and thought to give you a follow-up part!

› additional note: this isn't proofread

the traitor

JEONGHAN WAS WOKEN UP BY A TINGLING FEELING. As a hunter, he needed to pay attention to a few things, like sudden surges of emotions. Hunches. Tingling sensations were not particularly something he would consider in the bunch. But alas.

He pushed himself up, swinging his legs at the rim of the bed and stared at his knees for a long second. He took a deep breath, rubbing his leg. It was pointless, he thought when he could not find a reason to leave his bed in the middle of the night.

But being a hunter also meant he needed to be on high alert nearly all the time. In his experience, sometimes it was a good idea to pay attention to those moments when nothing made sense at all, such as this.

Sucking in a breath, he got up, stretching his arms over his head as he went over to the small bathroom, avoiding his reflection in the mirror as usual.

Upon the first splash of water hitting his face, he thought of you. It was inevitable. The image of you sitting on the ground, surrounded by trees. That night, he left you for good. That night nothing made sense.

Needless to say, he was exercising all of his will not to go back to you.

Stop trying to make sense of everything.

After that, he debated whether to go back to bed or not. He could take a bottle, try to numb his senses and finally get a good night of sleep. But he needed to stay sharp.

It was a lost game. He got dressed, throwing his pair of black pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Finally strapping his chest harness on with his knife. Going out in the middle of the night meant to him that he was out for blood.

That was his way to distract himself.

“Jeonghan, don’t go.”

He recoiled, shaking his head and mentally reprimanding himself for thinking of you. But your last words to him were a curse, echoing inside him every night, refusing to leave.

Jeonghan let out a long exhale as he wandered through the night. The streets of the town were completely deserted, he knew he would have to stay out for some hours before he found a target.

These nights, he had been hunting until he travelled three towns over. All because he cannot find it in himself to sleep, he has to fight the urge to seek you out somehow.

Maybe this will be the night he breaks.

There was nothing in this town. It was too safe, too clean. He knew it would not be long until he had to move to a different town and start over. He had been commissioned to travel to different parts of the globe to find something to hunt down, so maybe he was doing his job right.

So why did he come back to this shitty town? 

Something spiked in his nightly walk. There was something unusual in the air and it was not good. Jeonghan had really good senses, but his intuition was something that discerned him from the rest. Sometimes, people would tell him that his intuition was something out of the ordinary for hunters. So he paid more attention to that rather than his other senses.

He subconsciously rubbed his leg and caught his hand just as it dawned on him.

“Jeonghan, don’t go.”

Fear set in, and adrenaline kicked in as he started for a run. He had been stupid. So fucking stupid. How come he did not think that by killing every single demon within the town’s radar he was putting a target on you for other hunters?

Jeonghan knew the town by heart, but he could travel to your apartment with his eyes closed. Countless were the nights he stumbled upon your front door, burdened with misery all over. This cannot be the way he finds you dead.

“No, no, no, no…” he had been repeating the word like a prayer as he climbed through a labyrinth of stairs, panting, sweating until he burst the door open, already knowing you would not be there.

He called your name, either way, his voice bouncing back the walls. There was something off. A glass was shattered, pushed against the corner of the room. One of the chairs was drawn back, in the middle of the way. Jeonghan painted a scene of what could have gone down.

You were probably having the bowl of cereal that was abandoned on the table when the other hunter burst in. Jeonghan could not catch the scent of the other hunter, so that meant whoever that was, they masked themselves well.

No, you would have felt his presence before he could even breathe in your direction. Even if you were young, you were not completely inexperienced in the world of hunters. He made sure of that.

Another possibility was that you were asleep when the other hunter came. The sheets of your bed were tossed to one side. Jeonghan crouched next to the mattress, a terrible feeling sinking inside him upon getting your scent lingering on the pillowcases.

Jeonghan missed you.

“Where are you?” he whispered, closing his eyes to focus on your scent.

You smelled like freshly picked flowers. The smell he would get in the early morning after a night of rain. The fact that you did not smell like death, or blood made it hard for him to focus sometimes.

He opened his eyes, his focus falling on the open window. Then, he knew why he could not make a story from his surroundings. He had been wrong to assume it was just one hunter.

Someone had also come through the window. You were trapped from the beginning. His chest contracted painfully. But somehow he knew you were not dead yet. Have you been taken? For what end?

The possibilities were endless. Even if hunters had a long history of hating demons, some of them were missing some screws in their heads too.

Jeonghan needed to find you, soon.

Making his way down the stairs, part of him wondered why try at all. He could be rid of you once and for all. He could probably turn a blind eye to this and wait for your name to appear on the ledges. He would be free from the fucking pull that lead him to you every time.

The pull.

The feeling he got every time he closed his eyes, the need and deep craving for you that made him go insane. He let himself feel it. It tugged inside him, like a thread that was tied to his very core.

Jeonghan had refused that feeling ever since he met you, thinking it was some kind of trick you played on him. Silly little hunter got all wrapped in a demon’s finger.

But if he dared to give in to the pull, everything smelled of you. Every gulp of air he took as he walked in the direction his senses told him, he saw your face, your teary eyes as he walked away. Fool, he was a fool.

He was led to the forest, the same path he had gone through when he saw you last. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he should go back and hunt you down.

But then he heard noises, leaves rustling, and a small intake of breath. The sweet way you drew air into your lungs.

He thought of risking calling your name, but he did not know if the hunters were around. So he just followed the sound of your movements until he could get his sight on you.

You could barely walk right. Something had brought you to your knees, your arms were shaking as you forced yourself to stand up, with a low grunt.

Jeonghan called your name this time, making you lift your head.

He stopped abruptly at the sight of something shiny in your fist.

“Don’t move,” you said, punctuating each word painfully.

“What happened?” he asked, his tone declining in sickening worry, his gaze coasted at each of your limbs, zeroing in on your thigh. The same thigh he had been rubbing since he woke up. It made no sense.

“Step back, Jeonghan,” you panted in pain, raising the knife at him when he made a motion toward you.

“You didn’t notice me coming,” he muttered, analyzing the situation quickly. He sent his gaze around, seeing if there were signs that there was someone lurking by. “Let me take a look at that.”

“How did you find me?” you asked, letting yourself plop back to the ground, letting go of the knife.

Jeonghan got to your side, dropping to his knees to look at your thigh. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, eyeing you. “I’m going to touch you now.”

You nodded and braced yourself for the searing pain in your leg. “Two hunters came for me,” you said, clenching your jaw tightly to resist the pain throbbing in your skin, around the gaping hole that was turning black.

“I know,” he said, examining the open wound. “Did they stab you?”

You shook your head twice. “They were using a crossbow. Silver arrows,” you explained despite the need to rest your head on the ground and sleep through it. “I feel dizzy.”

Jeonghan shot you a look. He was worried. “It’s the poison, they must’ve poisoned the arrows to neutralize you,” he said at once. “What did you do to the arrow?”

“I used it on one of them,” you replied with half a smirk that slowly vanished as Jeonghan started to press on the wound, seeing any signs of anything odd or unfamiliar.

“Sorry,” he breathed as you tensed in pain. “I need to see if there’s anything in there,” he explained, but what did not satiate the doubts running in his mind.

“I can’t heal it,” you repeated and now he could see that beneath the pain and the need to deflect it with humour, you were scared.

“I know, I know,” he told you, giving you a stern look. “I can help you but you’ll have to be quiet.”

“Are you missing this opportunity to gag me?” you quipped but your tone was made weak by the fear of feeling pain.

Demons were used to pain, yes. But you were a fairly young demon and lived for most of your life in the human world. Such pain was not welcome for you.

“Breathe,” he instructed and used his hands on your thigh to squeeze the blood that had gone black and tacky around the wound.

You gritted your teeth, writhing in pain on the cold ground. “Stop, stop, stop,” you cried out, trying to get his hands off you.

But Jeonghan was quicker, and stronger than you at that moment. He did not deter from his task to squeeze the poisoned blood out of you despite your desperate cries for him to stop.

You lied, nearly limp from the exhaustion the pain had put you through. A sheen layer of cold sweat covered your face and neck, breathing hard. “Fuck you,” you sighed when he stopped squeezing your flesh.

“I’m not done yet, I need pressure on the wound,” he said, moving back to unfasten his belt with his bloodied hands. He strapped the belt around your upper thigh, forming a tight tourniquet.

“Hurry,” you said through heavy breaths. As you eased your back on the ground, Jeonghan caught sight of the dark wings splayed beneath your body, a clear sign that you could not conceal yourself any further.

Jeonghan made no comment about the weakened state you were in. A knot was set in his stomach upon realizing that you were dying. He grabbed one of the vials he kept in his hunter’s belt, it contained a white liquid. “This is going to sting a little,” he murmured, unstoppering the vial with his mouth and not pausing before pouring the antidote on your open wound.

Your hand flew to clench at his wrist, letting out a scream that was quickly muffled by his hand clasped in your mouth.

“I’m nearly done,” he said with a composure that you could see through. Beneath that, Jeonghan was worried you would not make it.

“Am I going to be all right?” you asked in a daze, slurring out your words.

“Drink this,” he pressed the vial to your lips, pouring the rest down your tongue, which you gulped willfully, it tasted like white vinegar.

You rested your head on the ground, taking slow and deep breaths as though you had just finished running a marathon.

“You’re going to be all right,” he said after a quick examination of the wound. “But you’ll need to feed soon.”

“Right,” you mumbled in understanding. By feeding, Jeonghan did not mean human food. Although you could eat human food just all right, it did not sustain what your soul craved.

He meant sins. You needed to feed off human sin. They made you stronger, and faster. They gave you the fuel needed to fight hunters. Going off sins for a while made you just as strong as an average human.

“Why haven’t you fed?” he asked, and it took you a while to understand that he was reprimanding you.

“Been busy,” you sighed, closing your eyes for a moment.

The last thing you heard was Jeonghan mumbling, “We’ll need to move soon,” before you fell into a deep sleep on a floor covered by dead leaves. 

Upon regaining consciousness, you noticed with some slowness that you were not surrounded by trees, and you were moving. Your wings were cradling you, so that meant your horns were on sight too.

You tensed up, drawing in a shaky breath, palming your body in search of the knife that you stole from your attackers.

“Easy,” Jeonghan murmured next to you, a hand on the wheel, the other on the shift stick.

“Where are we?” you said, looking around.

“Radewood town,” he replied nonchalantly, eyes set forward on the road.

“Why?” you asked slowly, hiding your wings, from his view, then your horns.

“How’s your leg?” he asked instead, glancing at your thigh.

The wound had stopped bleeding, it was no longer oozing that black substance that had Jeonghan looking worried. You hissed painfully upon searching it with your fingers. The blood had dried, but it was not healing at the speed you would normally have.

“It hurts,” you mumbled, biting your bottom lip. “It’s not healing.”

Jeonghan nodded. “You need to feed,” he reminded you with the same tone of reprimand of earlier.

“Well, I fled without stopping to grab my purse so,” you sighed. “I don’t have money.”

“I’m not talking about human food,” he said with annoyance, shooting you a look that made you shrink in your seat. “Why haven’t you been feeding?”

You blinked slowly at him and shook your head after deciding that there was no answer that would please him. “I have–,”

“Don’t say you have been busy,” he cut in.

“Well, it’s the truth,” you said with a clear tone that gave away your lie.

But Jeonghan could feel it. Whenever you told a lie, there was a change in the air that only he could notice as a hunter. No human could ever detect your lies, only people like him.

“You know I know when you’re lying,” he said flatly, throwing you a dark look.

“Be content with that,” you bit back. “I’m not telling you anything else.”

Jeonghan shook his head, deciding not to press any further on the matter. He licked his lips, filling his lungs with the fresh midnight air that swept in through his rolled window.

“Jeonghan,” you called softly and did not proceed with your question until he glanced your way. “Why are you helping me?”

Jeonghan turned on a different street again, checking his rearview mirror, pretending to ready his answer. “I don’t know,” he replied.

There it was the empty void extending between you and him. If he lied, you would have sensed it too.

“How did you find me?” you pressed, trying to the best of your ability to analyze him. You were still weak, but you could still observe him despite your foggy brain.

“I don’t know,” he repeated with a low tone that barely cut through the noise of the engine of the car.

It made no sense. The way he found you in the woods was not done with any of his training. He simply closed his eyes and let him be taken to you. He did not even think twice as he carried your body to his car and started it, taking you far away from the town where you would be at risk of being hunted down.

“We have to lay low for now,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes as he cut the engine on an empty parking lot.

You raised your gaze to the motel sign, flaring in red neon light. “Is this your version of laying low?” you said with a sarcastic huff. “We could’ve done that back in the forest.”

Jeonghan opened the door, not bothering to look at you or give you a reply. “Stay here.”

You saw him walking away from the car, putting his hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket, his long hair tied in a messy ponytail.

You could run away. You did not know if Jeonghan was even aware of this. Maybe he was, you had a bad leg, and you were growing weaker.

Plus, there was the fact that he was now aware that he could trace you with his eyes closed.

You swallowed hard, waiting for him in the passenger seat of his old Mustang. You were going nowhere.

Some minutes later, you saw Jeonghan exiting the building and walking towards your door, which he opened to retrieve his belongings, which were his belt and his knife.

“This way,” he mumbled, motioning to one of the doors with a jerk of his head.

Reluctantly, you exited the car, closing the door behind you. Jeonghan turned and walked over to the door, introducing the key, and opening it for you.

You knew better than to fight it. There was a quiet storm brewing in the man’s head, and you were in its eye. You knew him well enough to tell when something was bothering him. And you knew what it was.

With a sigh, you walked inside the room.  “One bed?” you turned to him with an exasperated look.

“I didn’t think you would mind,” he froze by the doorframe.

“Whatever,” you waved a hand dismissively before he could offer to change it.

As soon as Jeonghan closed the doors and the blinds, you started to the bathroom, taking all of your clothes off in front of him. You made no invitation, no offer but you still left the door open, the sound of the shower filling the tiny room.

Jeonghan made another small inspection, looking out of the window through the blinds before deciding to relax. He took his jacket off, leaving it neatly by the chair that was pushed to one corner of the room. He took his boots off, sitting down on the chair with a low grunt of exhaustion.

As he sat up straight, he caught sight of his hand, only noticing because he had started moving it, rubbing his palm on the exact spot where you had been injured.

“What the fuck?” he whispered to himself, raising his gaze as you returned to the bathroom, wholly naked, pressing a towel to your hair.

“You okay, hunter?” you eyed him curiously, like a cat that just noticed a flashy light.  

Jeonghan frowned, not at you but at the thing stirring inside his chest. That feeling he got only when he was with you. “When is the last time you fed?”

“Here we go again,” you rolled your eyes but continued towel-drying your hair without bothering to respond.

“Answer me,” he muttered when you turned your back on him. Your reluctance to answer his question might have given him the answer.

“The last time we saw each other,” you said, your words echoing his own thoughts.

“Why?” the word was sharp like it took everything in him to suppress the dark emotion pulling on his every nerve. “That happened months ago.”

“Why do you care so much?” you spat, turning around to face him.

The question seemed to make him return to his senses, his eyes flickered with an emotion that you were to weak to catch. “I don’t,” he replied, stepping back from his initial anger.

“I’ll feed whenever I want to,” you said and this time you did not lie.

Jeonghan stood up, commanding your gaze to lift up to find his. “So you’re not hungry?”

You bit your tongue. Your eyes were dead, and despite the hot shower you had just taken, you were cold to the touch as Jeonghan curiously raised a hand to your shoulder. It was pointless, your plan had crashed and burned miserably.

“I’ve heard stories…” you whispered, closing your eyes to repel the sensation firing inside you. “Stories of ways a demon can become human. You can’t become human if you’re feeding off them, right?”

When Jeonghan did not reply, nor move you opened your eyes again. He was still rigid in the same trance he had been upon finding you injured and bleeding in the forest.

“You’ll die,” he sentenced after some seconds. “Are you insane?”

You brushed his hand off. “I knew you’d say that,” you whispered with a pained look, turning around to sit down on the bed.  

“Why do you want to become human?” the words sounded ridiculous as he uttered them.

“Not your business, Jeonghan,” you replied impishly, throwing the towel to him, which he saw coming, catching it with ease.

“It is if you’re running away with me,” he said. Your temptation to feed could become dangerous. And he was toeing that line too deliberately.

“I didn’t choose to run away with you,” you bit back with an indignant huff.

“That’s the thanks I get?” he rolled his eyes in annoyance. “What was I supposed to do, then? Leave you to die? To be found by them?”

He did not need to explain who he referred to. The two hunters must have noticed that Jeonghan ran away with his things, his car, leaving an empty place behind. And you are nowhere to be found. He was a traitor.

“Maybe,” you whispered, lowering your gaze to your lap. You skirted the pads of your fingers around the wound that still refused to heal completely.

Jeonghan stood before you, using a hand on your chin to force your teary eyes on him. A finger scooped your tear as it rolled down your cheek. The tear glistened on the pad of his thumb as he showed it to you, a shocked expression plastered on his face.

Demons felt emotions, yes. But nothing like sorrow. Jeonghan had never seen a demon cry, let alone one that wanted to become human. It made no sense.

“It’s possible, Jeonghan,” you whispered shakily, letting your tears flow freely.

“Humans are weak. They get sick, they die. Besides, the guilt of everything you’ve done as a demon will crush you,” he said, dropping his hand from your chin. “Why would you want something like that?”

“I’m done talking,” you said childishly, turning over to draw the covers of the bed and tucked yourself in. “Goodnight.”

He blinked perplexedly at you. The best option was to wait for another opportunity to bring up the matter, but for now, he needed to rest. He disposed of his chest harness, and his knives, leaving them on the old and battered bedside table, where he could reach out if needed.

A smile threatened to break on his face when you turned slightly at the sound of him taking his pants off, then his long-sleeved t-shirt, discarding his clothes at the foot of the bed.

He paused, tugging the band of his black boxers with his fingers. He took them off, making things fair.

“Is that necessary?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him as he sank under the covers with you.

“Just playing your game,” he said, tugging the hair tie loose before lying his head on the pillow next to yours.

“I’m not playing any games,” you huffed with annoyance, turning over so your back was to him once again.

There it was the ripple in the air between you and him. Jeonghan did not need to comment on it, but you hated it.

Hunter abilities or not, Jeonghan would be able to read through your lies blindfolded. He was just that good at reading people, reading you.

Jeonghan stared at the ceiling, his heartbeat going a mile per hour, like a bird’s wings batting frantically inside his chest. He swallowed hard, resisting the urge pushing him to raise his hand at you, to reach out and touch your skin.

You closed your eyes, commanding yourself to sleep. But it was nearly impossible. Jeonghan’s scent was too distracting. The hunger caved a hole deep inside you. It was no ordinary hunger, it was one that had your soul twisting.

You balled your hands into fists, sinking your face into the pillow. His lust was nearly palpable, looming over you like a monster preying on you.

However, you were too weak to actually act upon it. Soon, you fell asleep, not noticing when or how.

Jeonghan however, was too riddled with questions to do the same. He turned his head on the pillow, seeing your wet hair, your naked shoulder. His thigh throbbed in something that reminded him of pain, though his flesh was fine and did not hurt.

Why would you want to become human? What could be a good enough reason to want to abandon your life full of pleasures? It made no sense. Jeonghan had never heard of a demon becoming human, but he saw you crying, so that must mean that it could be done.

Still, it meant that there was a price to be paid. There always was.

Wandering through endless questions, Jeonghan fell asleep. Now and then he was reminded of your presence in the bed, feeling your warmth or hearing you move beneath the sheets.

Even if he were not a light sleeper, the distraction of your warmth was enough to stir him awake. He found himself entirely pressed to your body, his front to the back of yours. His nose buried in your mane of hair, an arm draped over your waist.

And he was hard. Fuck, he was so hard it was starting to become annoying. It would be so easy to slip himself inside your pussy, waking you up in the process. He had done it countless times before.

He let out a silent sigh through his nose, only getting the scent of your hair when he breathed in. Your hand found his arm parked on the curve of your waist, you were awake. Jeonghan pressed himself another inexistent inch further, his hard cock wedged on your ass.

“Jeonghan,” you mumbled sleepily, turning over to see him. You threw him an innocent look, big eyes, pouting lips. “What are you doing?”

He responded by giving you a confused look. In other times, you would not even ask questions, you would just let him take you, take whatever he wanted, for however long.

Jeonghan brought a hand to your chin, his touch igniting your skin, making you blink dumbly. “How long are you going to keep resisting it?” the words flew out of his mouth before he could even comprehend his own question.

But he knew what you were doing. He was an expert in pushing his feelings down, particularly, he knew what it felt like to resist this pull.

“However long is necessary, Jeonghan,” you replied, but your tone wavered in the urge to press yourself against his hand, to feel him.

“Why?” he asked, his eyes skirting through your reaction. He knew you wanted this, why were you refusing him?

“If I keep this for long I might get what I want,” you whispered, avoiding his eyes in utter shame.

“Why do you want to become human so desperately?” he asked again, looking at you with an obfuscation that was hard to mask.

You shrugged, keeping your sunken gaze on his chiselled chest. “That doesn’t concern you.”

Jeonghan pressed his fingers on your chin gently, tugging you so you locked your pretty eyes with his. “Does it not, really?”

Your brow furrowed, your gaze darkening. Feeling like you were being mocked, your eyes watered again. “Fuck off, Jeonghan,” you scoffed weakly, trying to free yourself from his grip.

He did not want to see it, but your reaction told him everything he needed to know. It took him some seconds to shake the perplexion off. It made no sense. “Did you think that being human would change things?”

You made no verbal reply, scoffing as you brushed his hand off you one more time.

But you knew him well enough to expect that would not work on him. He needed an answer now, and he would stop at nothing to get it now that he knew it fully concerned him.

“Did you think I would want you more if you were human?” he asked without heat in his words, his gaze reading your features over and over. “Did you think that would give you a shot at a normal thing happening between us?”

“No, Jeonghan,” you rolled your eyes, but he could see how much his questions had pierced through you. “Quite the opposite.”

He made a motion to pull his head back on the pillow as if that gave him a better frame of your face. “What?”

“I want this to stop,” you whispered, rolling over the bed to sit up with a sigh.

Jeonghan looked at your back, you let your head drop forward, sniffling softly but you were fully crying now.

“Maybe being human will make this stop,” you whispered, motioning a hand between his body and yours. By this, you meant, the out-of-the-ordinary need for him, the desperate craving that refused to let you live. Maybe then, the bond between you would not be so unbearable.

Jeonghan sat up too, trying to read any signs of your words being insincere. But he found nothing, the quiet tension falling in the room startled him, and it made him uncomfortable. Even more, the battering inside his chest was making it difficult to even breathe.

“That makes no sense,” he mumbled with a hollow tone.

“It makes perfect sense,” you bit back, throwing him a sad look.

You were weak, nearing a state that you did not comprehend. Becoming human meant that you also had to deal with human emotions, and they were flowing freely through you, giving you a taste of what you were about to face as a human.

However, making yourself human condemned you to a myriad of threats. Not just mortality. You would become a demon that betrayed its own kind. A traitor, too.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, trying to hold your gaze to read you better.

“I want to be rid of you by whatever means necessary,” you hissed, coating your words with venom.

“Liar.”

There was a shadow of a smile on his face, and before you resorted to a crazed fit of violence, you decided to crush your mouth with his, kissing him with enough vehemence it would hurt him if he were human.

But he was tough enough to take you. He released a grunt in your mouth that was from half arousal, half annoyance at you.

“You’re a baby,” he grunted between hard kisses. “A bratty, fussy, melodramatic demon.”

“Shut up, Jeonghan,” you hissed. “Shut up or I swear–,”

“What?” he bit back, holding your face with both hands, squishing your cheeks. “What will you do, eh?”

“Don’t try me right now,” you said, kissing him repeatedly you were running out of breath.

“That’s exactly what I want to do,” he chuckled. “Did you think that making yourself human would make me stop wanting you?”

“Yes,” you hissed, pushing him back onto the bed with all the strength you had.

Jeonghan was stronger than you at that moment, but he allowed you to handle him with a triumphant smirk on his face. Nothing in existence would make him stop wanting you, damned to hell or not.

Though it made him curious to know. “Do you want to stop wanting me, then?” he leaned his head to his shoulder.

“It would be nice to stop craving you all the time,” you said, sinking your face in the crook of his neck to kiss him.

“Liar,” he grunted, holding your hips as you made a trail of kisses down his beautifully scarred chest. “Even worse, you’re a masochistic one at that.”

The guilty giggle escaping through your lips gave him all the reassurance he needed. You were now soaking up his need for you.

“Gods,” he breathed when your lips reached his hipbone. Your touch would never satiate the craving need inside him, but this night he would at least attempt to.

His fingers tangled in your hair, keeping his grip light but it would become difficult as you gave him a long lick from his ball sack to the tip of his cock. “Fuck,” he gritted, tensing as you wrapped your mouth around the bulbous head of his cock. “Yes, baby, just like that.”

The room fell silent again, but now all that surrounded you and him was lust and bliss. It had your blood revelling, sizzling beneath your skin to take him into your mouth. His fingers thread in your hair, caressing you as you bobbed your head up and down on him, sucking him off eagerly. You were tasting him, not only his skin, his arousal, but his lust. It drove you crazy.

“Gods, I fucking missed you,” he drawled, closing his eyes briefly before he lost all control. He wanted to push his hips, to drive his cock into your throat. But he also wanted to take this patiently.

You explored him with your mouth, just like your hands were exploring his body. Not that his nakedness was new to you, but you had just gone months without touching him. And not for a single second did you forget the taste of him, you also missed him.

But did he miss you the same way you did? Did he crave to hear your voice like you did his?

Your transition from demon to human was painful, and you were throwing it all away in one night. And Jeonghan was willingly letting you feed off his lust, you were relishing the taste of his greed, sucking off the last bit of the self-restraint he had in him.

His fingers curled around your hair, clenching his jaw as he moaned in pure pleasure. He let out a gasp when your tongue swirled around his cockhead. “Keep doing that, baby,” he said languidly, following the movements of your head on him.

A strangled moan bubbled in your mouth, and you followed his command, rolling your tongue around his blunt head.

Jeonghan smirked knowingly. You weakened whenever he treated you with softness, so words like baby drove you crazy. He threw a look down at his body, capturing your eyes, darkened with a lascivious greed that only fueled his. “Touch yourself,” he said with a gruff tone. “I want you to come with me.”

You sneaked a hand between your thighs, moaning salaciously when your fingers stroked your clit.

Jeonghan sighed, blinking slowly at the sight of you, thinking of your drenched pussy, your fingers coated in your arousal as you rubbed fast swirls around your clit. “That’s it, baby, just like that,” he praised, brushing your hair back with his long fingers. “You’re such a good girl for me, you don’t even know it.”

You moaned around his cock again, succumbing to a fast orgasm, your body trembled slightly.

“Coming,” he whispered, his mouth falling open as ropes of cum spurted down your throat, moaning at the sight of you drinking him off completely, licking to the last bead of his cum. You littered the reddened cockhead with sweet pecks trailing down to his shaft, eliciting a raw chuckle from him.

“That was amazing,” he whispered, enjoying the twinkle in your dark eyes upon being praised by him.

Jeonghan sat up, hooking one arm around your waist to throw you back onto the mattress. “Your turn,” he said with a wolfish grin.

You had recuperated the color in your cheeks, but you were still weak enough to fight his strength. You grunted as your head hit the pillows, but returned the smile at him. “You’ll see when I get my strength back.”

“Ooh, scary,” he said, grazing his lips on yours.

“You’ll see,” you remarked.

“Scary baby demon, what are you going to do?” he teased again, kissing the apple of your cheek, his breath caressing your ear.

“I’ll make you suffer,” you mumbled faintly, closing your eyes as his lips reached the underside of your jaw, making you tilt your head back for him.

“I want to see that,” he said mockingly. “Make me suffer.”

You sighed a moan when he kissed your throat, giving you a broad stroke with his tongue, tracing your collarbones. “Jeonghan…”

“Don’t throw another tantrum like that again,” he murmured against your skin, leaving another kiss on the plain of your breasts, before adding, “I’ll be mad at you.”

A spark of wrath got mixed along with greed and lust, it was not new to you, but it was rare.

“It wasn’t a tantrum,” you argued, though your tone was made weak by his lips, his tongue licking one of your nipples, making you arch your back.

He paused, “I don’t care,” he decided at once. “You’re not doing it again.”

“You don’t get to decide what I do, Jeonghan,” you mumbled breathily, moaning as his mouth wrapped around your nipple, suckling at it softly once, then swirling the tip of his tongue around it.

Jeonghan did not respond verbally to your obvious lie. He did not have a say in your choices, but there was a force greater than him or you that tied you to him. So every choice you made, every choice he made, was bound to affect you both.

“How’s your leg?” he asked, moving your thighs gently to slot his waist between them. His fingers traced a circle around the scar that was beginning to form.

“Better,” you sighed.

“Mmn,” he smirked at you, leaning over to kiss your lips. “Will it heal completely by the time I’m done eating you out?”

“Why, are you in a rush?” you quipped, arching an eyebrow at him.

There you were, he smirked. “I ache for you,” he whispered, letting his forehead fall upon yours. The shame coursing through him made you recoil but sensing it, he added quickly: “You have not only starved yourself but starved me with your stupid little plan.”

“You avoided me too,” you accused.

“I know, I was a fool,” he confessed, running his palms all over your body as if he could not do anything else. He sank down, leaving wet kisses down your tummy, his hands palming your breasts, his fingers lingering on your sensitive nipples.

You bit your lip, only in your most crazed fantasies did you dare to imagine him saying this. “You were,” you whispered. “The biggest fool.”

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, kissing your mound generously, his hands grabbing your thighs with the lightest of touches before licking your pussy with a broad stroke.

“Jeonghan!” you cried out, brushing his dark hair gently as he ate you out like a starved man, licking your folds thoroughly, his tongue sliding up to your clit to then suckle at it.

You arched your back, not caring about the light pain throbbing on your thigh. Jeonghan was giving you everything you needed, giving your pussy open-mouthed kisses, drinking your arousal in with pleased moans.

“Fuck-k,” you gritted weakly, letting yourself be swept away by the gentle waves of your orgasm building inside you. “I m-missed you too, Jeonghan,” you mumbled.

He raised his gaze to yours, blinking slowly at you, pressing his tongue on your swollen clit, moving it swiftly in figure-eight motions, driving you to the edge. You gripped the bedsheets with one hand, the other flying to grab at the railings of the headboard.

“I’m close,” you gasped, breathing rapidly, welcoming the pleasure barreling through your body. “I’m close, I’m–, Jeonghan…” you closed your eyes, repeating his name over and over as you climaxed in his mouth.

But Jeonghan was not stopping. He continued making out with your pussy, enjoying the taste of your arousal pooling in your entrance, licking your folds with raunchy moans. His hands held you down as you shook with the aftershocks of your orgasm, caressing your tummy languidly.

“Jeonghan,” you called, shuddering when his hand caressed your thigh as he littered it with kisses.

“See? Healed,” he placed another kiss, right where your scar used to be.

You used your newly regained strength to push him, flipping the positions over so you were now straddling him. You let out a pleased sigh, effortlessly pinning his body down on the mattress.

“I take that you’re all set now,” he smirked, his hands roving all over your thighs.

Gods, you were a sight to behold. Your wings were at full display, resting freely at your sides. Your dark horns, curving back from the crown of your head, were on sight too. That meant you were comfortable around Jeonghan. You trusted him.

“Not yet,” you said, grabbing his hardened cock in one hand, planting the other on his abdomen for support as you eased your pussy down his length.

“Fuck,” Jeonghan gritted, his hands flying to grab your hips as you started rolling them on him.

“What’s wrong, hunter?” you teased, leaning down so your face was close enough to prop kisses on his lips. “Lost your footing?”

“You got me for a second there,” he admitted with a smirk. “Didn’t think you’d recuperate your strength that quickly.”

“Mm, keep that in mind next time you kiss it better,” you said, trapping his bottom lip with your teeth, nibbling it softly.

Jeonghan moaned, your hips picking up the pace mercilessly, knowing the exact pace and motion that drove him insane. He closed his eyes, sighing out the euphoric feeling of being with you, like this, consuming each other.

“It won’t happen again. You’re not doing this to yourself again,” he said with a faint tone.

“You don’t make choices for me,” you retaliated, sinking yourself down on him with pleased sighs, planting your hands on his chiselled chest.

In a blur, Jeonghan grabbed your wrists with one hand flipping your bodies over, pinning your body with his hips on yours, his hand holding your arms above your head. Jeonghan moved his hips slightly, finding your entrance with his hard cock quite effortlessly.

Jeonghan gave a few shallow thrusts, stretching your walls, making your mouth part, giving way to a long moan. “Fuck, Jeonghan,” you groaned lewdly.

“Say it,” he hissed, rolling his hips on yours slowly, but pushing his cock inside you deeper each time he thrusted in. “You won’t do it again.”

“Fuck you,” you gritted, falling deeper into the puddle of pleasure he was slowly submitting you into.

“Say. It,” he commanded, his thrusts gaining strength, becoming harder at each motion of his hips on yours.

You wrestled his grip on your wrists, without using your full strength. “No,” you said with a hollow tone, the pace of his thrusts knocking the wind out of you.

“You fucking brat,” he spat, pressing his face on yours, giving you a hard kiss in the process. “Delusional little demon. Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?”

“Stop,” you gasped, shame heating your cheeks.

Jeonghan released his grip on your wrists, not letting you regain control by grabbing your thighs, throwing them on his shoulders before resuming with his near animalistic thrusts, groaning on your mouth as such, like an animal.

“Jeonghan!” you cried out, his cock reaching inside you deeper… and deeper.

“Did you really think… I’d stop wanting you?” he panted in between his hard thrusts, the strain in his voice telling you how close he was to his release. “I’ll never stop wanting you.”

“Jeonghan…” you moaned.

“Say it.”

“I won’t do it again,” you said, trembling on the bed, reaching out to hold him right before you came undone beneath him.

“That’s it… that’s my girl,” he gasped, his bottom lip parting, releasing a raw grunt. Jeonghan moaned your name as he came, fucking his cum inside you with sloppy thrusts until he stopped, breathing hard on top of you.

Jeonghan eased your legs from his shoulders, deciding to rest his head on your chest. The sound of your heartbeat resonated through his head as he took a long breath. Your fingers caressed his nape lazily, shuddering under him when Jeonghan ran a fingertip on one of your wings.

This made no sense. To Jeonghan, everything had been black and white. His world was rigid, surrounded by unbreakable rules that made him into the person he was until he met you. Now, he was but the shadow of the man he was. He used to hate himself for wanting you. You were the thing he was raised to hate, to kill.

He did everything to keep you away. He bedded other women, he drank himself to sleep to not dream of you, he flew himself to different parts of the world.

And there he was, blissfully nestled in your warmth, in your embrace.

“Would you hate it if I became human?”

“No,” he replied after some seconds. “But I don’t want you to do it because you think that’s going to change something between us. Some things aren’t meant to change.”

“How can you be so sure?” you asked with a tiny tone.

Jeonghan raised his head, curiously looking at you. Even back with full strength, you still clung to some human vulnerability. “I’m not sure,” he confessed. “I don’t understand many things. But I know that changing yourself won’t bring you happiness, only misery.”

“I’m just tired of this,” you said, and it did not matter that you could not cry anymore, he knew that the statement hurt to say.

Jeonghan got to his knees, pulling out of you gently to slump his body next to yours. He took one long look at you, reminiscing of what he felt when he knew you were slipping away. It was fear, that was undeniable, he was too familiar with that feeling. But never like this.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said with a light frown.

“How did you find me, Jeonghan? How did you know I was in trouble?” you dared to ask again, now your words taking another meaning.

Jeonghan paused. “I just did,” he said but rolled his eyes when you saw through his lie. “I felt something.”

“Jeonghan,” you started, your tone reducing itself to a whisper. “There is a reason why we can’t get rid of each other.”

He went rigid, his eyes coasting all over the features of your face.

“Have you ever tried to… kill me?” you asked, hating how your words came off while lying naked next to him.

“You’d know it if I had,” he said, taken aback by your questions. “Why are you asking me this?”

“There is a reason why you can’t kill me,” you said, despite how crazy you were sounding. “I know you’ve felt it…”

Jeonghan sat up on the bed, gripping the bedsheets to steady himself. He felt lightheaded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” you whispered, sitting up next to him.

He ran his hands on his face harshly. “Stop that. This isn’t a game.”

“The last time we saw each other, you felt something,” you pressed, searching his eyes as he faced you.

“It makes no sense,” he whispered dejectedly.

It made perfect sense. The grip that you had on him was unlike anything else he had faced. Time after time he tried to run away, to put distance between you and him. He always found his way back to you somehow, either by greed, by lust or purely by fate. He never knew why, he was bound to you.

“Look at me,” you said, and his gaze found you. “There’s no point in fighting this. I know you’ve tried it before, I tried too.”

“It’s–,”

“Impossible?” you scoffed with a mocking smile.

It was a sick joke. A demon and her hunter. The lamb and the wolf, chasing each other endlessly.

“Is this why you thought becoming human was an option?”

You paused but nodded slowly after some seconds of pondering.

Jeonghan sighed, touching your forehead with his. “That’s a high price to pay,” he whispered.

He knew your next words before you uttered them, “I’m willing to pay it, Jeonghan.”

“I don’t want you to,” he gritted out his words, even if he did not understand, he could not stop fighting it any longer. “I like you the way you are.”

Demon or not, you felt something in your chest, tugging at you. “That’s not the problem,” you shifted back, looking at his confused face.

“I can’t have any ties to anyone,” he said. “Someday I’ll end up dead fighting something stronger and quicker than me.”

“After today’s events, I think it’s clear that I am chased by the same danger.”

“I’ll grow old, and slow,” he added.

“I would too, if I were human. No one would hunt me down,” you countered, not convinced by the obfuscated look on his face. “I wouldn’t have to feed from you.”

“You could die in the process,” he said, and that was the final reason he needed.

“Jeonghan–,”

“No,” he shook his head.

At that, you stopped fighting. You got out of bed, slowly picking up your torn clothes and putting them on without looking back at him.

His heart faltered, looking at you as you sat down on the edge of the bed, next to him. “Don’t go,” he mumbled.

“Give me a reason to stay.”

Jeonghan swallowed his words, taking a last look at your eyes. Something tugged at his heart, urging him to stop you. But you were slipping through the door before he could spring to action.

Fool. He was a fool.

› author's note: heyyyooooooo

once again i have nothing to say. i just need jeonghan on his knees, begging for forgiveness and mercy

anyway, stay tuned for my next hannieween fest piece!! next post will be loser hannie!! hehe

toodles!

read the next part!!

support me on ko-fi?

© RIGHTS RESERVED TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[aventurineswife]

Can I request Ratio, Moze, Aventurine, Sunday, Dan heng, Argenti and Jing Yuan involving their s/o or spouse in their exercise? Ill leave it up to creative freedom fr u but like the kisses when doing push ups or somehow practicing their attacks on their s/o in wholesome ways (just an idea but Churin doing the coin drop attack while his partner holds an umbrella above their head or something more wholesome)

-🍮♠

Love Is The Most Dangerous Strategy Of All

Tags: Ratio x Reader, Moze x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Argenti x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Fluff, Romantic Moments, Established Relationship, Playful Banter, Combat Training, Sweet Gestures, Slow Dancing, Quiet Moments.

Warnings: Mild Violence (in sparring and training sequences), Themes of Emotional Vulnerability(?), Light Suggestive Content (kisses and teasing moments), Mentions of Intense Training Practices.

Ratio sat at his desk, papers scattered around him in an organized chaos. His long hours of intellectual pursuit often left him longing for an outlet, and today, he had come up with an idea. He glanced toward you, lounging on the couch, your eyes glimmering with curiosity.

"Would you like to join me in a mental exercise?" Ratio asked, the usual sarcasm in his tone replaced by something more playful.

You raised an eyebrow. "Mental exercise? What kind of game are we playing?"

Ratio’s eyes twinkled behind his glasses. He stood, stepping to a corner of the room, and retrieved a sleek board game filled with complex patterns and symbols, designed to challenge even the sharpest minds. "A game of logic and strategy. You will need to anticipate my every move—much like our relationship."

You laughed. "That sounds... dangerous."

"Only for those unprepared." Ratio smiled, his usual arrogance softened by the lightheartedness of the moment.

The game began, and Ratio’s mind whirred at full speed, trying to anticipate your every move. You were quick to catch on, forcing Ratio to keep up. At one point, after a particularly sharp maneuver, you leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, catching him off guard.

"Consider that a victory." you teased.

Ratio smirked, adjusting his glasses. "Such tactics will not deter me. But... they may motivate me to work even harder."

The night was quiet, save for the soft hum of distant winds. Moze stood in the middle of a training ground, his blade drawn, eyes focused. You watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, concerned but intrigued.

"You’re being too hard on yourself." you called out softly.

Moze’s eyes flickered briefly, but his expression remained cold, impassive. He was practicing his shadow strikes—silent, swift, and deadly. You stepped forward, offering a gentle suggestion. "What if you let me help?"

Without a word, Moze nodded, moving toward you with eerie grace. He signaled for you to stand in the middle of the training area. “I won’t hurt you.” he said, though it sounded more like a command than a reassurance.

The training began. Moze’s strikes were fast, but he purposefully slowed them down, practicing his precision. You stood still and calm, evading each strike with fluid motion, barely moving a muscle.

After several attempts, Moze finally approached, his blade hovering near your neck. Instead of striking, he lowered his weapon, looking into your eyes.

"Perfect. You’re becoming as swift as shadows themselves."

He didn’t need to say more. You smiled, taking a brief pause to kiss him gently on the lips before stepping back. "And you’re finally letting go of the shadows, aren’t you?"

Aventurine grinned mischievously, twirling a coin between his fingers. You stood beneath a large, intricately designed umbrella, a slight frown tugging at the corner of your lips.

"Are you certain this is safe?" you asked, shifting your weight to one side as you adjusted the umbrella.

"Of course!" Aventurine said with a wink. "It’s all about the thrill of the game."

He took a deep breath and dropped the coin. With a fluid motion, he twirled his body, hands outstretched. The coin landed perfectly in his palm as he spun, effortlessly dodging the shower of raindrops that fell on you both.

You laughed, but it was a laugh filled with admiration, your gaze following his every move.

"Impressive," you said, watching him strike a dramatic pose with the umbrella still held above you. "Maybe I should take a gamble with you sometime."

Aventurine, ever the charmer, closed the distance between you and kissed you gently on the lips. "The best bet I’ve ever made is the one on you."

Sunday stood in a garden bathed in the soft glow of twilight, his coat flowing behind him like a royal cape. You stood nearby, watching him with admiration. Today, Sunday had chosen a more gentle form of exercise—a slow dance, a symbolic gesture for peace, a reflection of his own philosophy.

"Shall we begin?" he asked, extending his hand.

You smiled, taking it without hesitation, your fingers intertwining. As the music started, you moved in tandem, each step purposeful and elegant. Sunday’s eyes met yours with a quiet intensity, his every movement controlled, graceful.

"Feel the rhythm," Sunday whispered, spinning you under his arm. "Life, like dance, is about harmony."

The dance flowed seamlessly, your movements as one, until Sunday pulled you close, his lips brushing against your ear. "You are the perfect partner, in every way."

You smiled, your heart full, and kissed him back tenderly. "And you are the dream I never want to wake from."

Dan Heng stood at the training grounds, the spear in his hands. He was practicing a series of swift thrusts and spins, each movement calculated, precise. You stood by, leaning casually against a tree, watching with a mix of admiration and concern.

"Don’t overdo it!" you called out after a particularly powerful strike that sent a gust of wind rippling through the air.

Dan Heng paused, his stoic expression unchanged. He glanced at you, an almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I’m fine." he replied softly.

However, it wasn’t long before he offered to let you join in. "Would you like to try?"

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. "With the spear?"

Dan Heng nodded. "It’s about control, not strength. Let me guide you."

With a gentle hand on your waist, Dan Heng showed you the proper stance, your bodies aligning in perfect symmetry. As you practiced together, Dan Heng’s stoic demeanor softened, the quiet moments filled with shared trust. After a few successful strikes, you smiled up at him.

"Not bad for someone who’s all about silence," you teased.

Dan Heng chuckled, albeit quietly. "It’s not about what’s said. It’s about what’s felt."

He kissed you lightly on the forehead, grateful for the peace you brought to his turbulent heart.

Argenti stood, his sword gleaming in the sunlight, the red fabric of his attire flowing in the breeze. You sat nearby, watching him intently. His expression was one of perfect concentration as he practiced his swings, each movement a deliberate attempt to maintain his sense of purity.

He turned to face you, his expression noble yet inviting. "Would you honor me by joining my exercises today? A bout of sparring, if it pleases you?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to fight me?"

Argenti's lips curved into a resolute smile, his eyes gleaming with unyielding determination. "Fear not, for I seek not to harm you, but to temper my resolve. It is the sanctity of honorable combat that stirs my soul."

With a gentle nod, you agreed, standing and grabbing a sparring sword. The match began, and Argenti’s movements were swift and graceful, the perfect blend of honor and beauty. Despite the intensity of the fight, he ensured every blow was controlled, never too harsh.

As you crossed blades, you suddenly spun and caught him off guard, knocking the sword from his hand. You stepped close, your breath mingling, before pressing a quick, teasing kiss to his lips.

"Seems like you need more practice," you teased.

Argenti inclined his head, his voice brimming with pride and humility. "I shall redouble my efforts and train with greater fervor to earn my place in our next match."

Jing Yuan stood in the training hall, his hands poised on the reins of his strategy. You stood before him, the subject of his training today.

"Shall we begin?" Jing Yuan asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You nodded, gripping the training blade he’d given you. As Jing Yuan moved through the motions, his calm demeanor was evident, but there was a playful undertone to his every move. His strikes were light but precise, testing your reflexes and balance.

At one point, as he parried an attack, Jing Yuan swept you into a spin and caught you in a gentle embrace, pulling you close.

"You are growing stronger," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "But I still hold the advantage in speed."

You grinned, your arms winding around him as you kissed him back. "We’ll see about that."

Jing Yuan’s laugh rumbled softly in his chest as he kissed you again, the warmth of the moment eclipsing the training. "I always look forward to our challenges."

[tifosipogue]

When Shadows Fall Soft

xaden riorson x reader

No one looks Xaden Riorson in the eye—except you.

They all flinch, turning away like moths from a flame. You, however, meet his gaze like you’re daring him to blink first. He never does. But you never stop trying.

"You are playing with fire," your friend whispers one day after training, eyes flickering to where Xaden stands, arms crossed, watching the sparring match like he’s mentally cataloging everyone’s weaknesses. His eyes meet yours and he raises one eyebrow, like he is challenging you.

You smirk. “Good thing I don't mind getting burned."

You’re assigned to the same squad for a field exercise—just your luck. He stands at the edge of the group, arms crossed, gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the map and mission outline. He barely looks at you during the briefing, but you can tell he’s listening. Every word seems to land sharp.

His shoulders tense slightly when you speak, barely a shift, but it’s enough. You notice the way his fingers twitch once before stilling. The room isn’t cold, but there’s a chill that seems to hang around him like a storm cloud, subtle and heavy. In the corners, where the light doesn't quite reach, the black shadows seem to move—just slightly—like they’re leaning in to hear you too.

That’s the first surprise.

The second is when he saves your life.

You react quickly—training taking over, instincts firing—but not quickly enough. The danger comes too fast, a blur of motion and sound that you can’t fully register until it’s already upon you. Heat flashes near your side, the sign of incoming death. You pivot, heart slamming into your ribs, knowing—without question—you’re too late.

And then something colder than fear coils around you.

The shadows hit first—wrapping you in a sheath of darkness that clings to your skin like a second heartbeat. It’s not just a barrier; it’s a command. They pull you out of the blast zone, fast and sharp, snapping you through space like a blade slicing through silence. The ground reappears beneath your feet, unfamiliar and shaking, and you stumble—but you're not alone.

Xaden is already there.

He steps into the space where you were standing seconds ago, a wall of muscle, shadows, and raw fury. His power roils around him, violent and barely contained. Smoke-like tendrils lash out from his shoulders and spine, shifting like they’re alive, like they’re angry. At what—you’re not sure. The enemy. The threat. Or the fact that you’d almost been hurt. Again.

His eyes find yours—just for a second.

The way his jaw clenches. The way his fists flex. The way his power doesn’t retreat from your skin—it lingers, as if it refuses to let go until it’s sure you’re safe.

“Stay behind me,” he growls, voice low, threaded with something that might be fear—or something far more dangerous.

And even though the battlefield still rages around you, even though there’s no time to breathe, let alone feel—you do. Just for a heartbeat. Because in that moment, with the scent of lightning in the air and the ghost of his shadows still curled around your ribs, you realize something terrifying.

You free your arm from his grip, rolling your eyes. “I had it handled.”

“Like hell you did.” He snaps, his eyes wild as he dares you to talk back.

Your breathing is quick, your heart quicker, but you don’t back down. “You don’t get to play hero.”

He steps closer, voice low making you shiver. “And you don’t get to die on my watch.”

You see it—not just the anger, but something under it. Fear. Frustration. Maybe... concern?

____

The tension between you only worsens. It coils tighter with every shared breath, every glance that lasts too long, every word said just a bit too sharply. It’s unspoken but undeniable—an invisible thread pulled taut between you, threatening to snap or ignite, and you’re not sure which would be worse.

During drills, it becomes a battlefield all its own.

He pushes you harder than anyone else, relentless and unyielding. His commands are clipped, his tone edged in steel, and his eyes—gods, those eyes. Every misstep, every falter, every half-second delay is met with immediate, brutal correction. “You’re hesitating,” he snaps one morning, breath fogging in the cold. “That’ll get you killed."

You wipe the sweat from your brow and fire back without missing a beat. “And micromanaging my every move will get you punched.”

His jaw ticks. Just slightly. And for a flicker of a second, his shadows stir—barely—but they do. You know it wasn’t your words. It was your voice. The heat beneath it. The frustration. The fear. And maybe something else.

You don’t hold back either. Every time it’s his turn to spar, you hit harder, move faster. You press his limits like you're daring him to snap. When he corrects your stance with razor-sharp precision—clinical and cold—you meet it with sarcasm laced in venom. “Thanks for the unsolicited feedback, Wingleader. I forgot I signed up for a personal critique."

He steps closer. Too close. His breath ghosts across your cheek, and for a second you think he’s going to say something—something real—but he doesn’t.

And just like that, the moment implodes.

Because beneath the tension is something dangerous. Something that simmers beneath the surface like a fault line—shifting, straining, threatening to crack. You tell yourself it’s just frustration. Just adrenaline. Just the pressure of war, of survival.

But it’s not.

It’s you and him.

____

It happens after a night patrol turns into another disaster—ambush, chaos, the kind that leaves your ears ringing and your hands slick with blood that might not even be your own. You're still high on adrenaline, limbs shaking with the aftershock, your heart pounding like it’s trying to escape your chest.

There’s a gash tearing across your shoulder, deep and ugly, warm blood soaking into your sleeve. You’re breathing hard, pain dull behind the buzz in your head, but you’re standing. That counts for something.

He’s not impressed.

Xaden is pacing in front of you, jaw tight, movements sharp enough to cut through the night air. His shadows slither around him, alive with fury. Every step he takes feels like thunder, like he’s barely holding something back—his voice, his temper, his power. Maybe all three.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snaps, finally rounding on you.

You straighten despite the pain, even though every instinct tells you to sit down before you pass out. “I was thinking I’d keep the squad alive."

His eyes flash. His shadows twitch, sensing his anger before he even speaks again. “You’re not invincible,” he growls, stepping closer. “Stop acting like you don’t care what happens to you.”

“And you stop acting like it’s your only job to keep me breathing!” you snap back, voice rising, blood still dripping from your arm. “I know the risks, Xaden. I’ve known them since day one.”

For a second, he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, chest rising and falling too fast, fury painted across his face—but underneath it, something else. Something quieter. Raw. Unspoken.

Then his gaze drops—just briefly—to the blood on your arm.

He exhales sharply through his nose, like he’s trying to swallow something back. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, but more dangerous than before. “You think I’m angry because you disobeyed?” he murmurs. “I’m angry because you got hurt."

You freeze.

The words land harder than any blow. You can still hear the echoes of battle in your ears, still feel the sting of your wound, but suddenly none of it matters. Not compared to the way he’s looking at you now—like he’s furious with you, yes, but more than that... terrified.

You didn’t know he could look like that.

“You should have run,” he hisses, voice tight. “You think dying proves something?”

“Better than hiding behind shadows like you do.”

You expect him to yell, give you a silly punishment like all the times before. Maybe even walk away.

Instead of replying, he storms forward.

His eyes burn into yours, shadows curling at the edges of his silhouette like they can’t decide whether to lash out or hold you tighter. He’s barely two breaths away when he suddenly reaches out, rough hands catching your face, fingers splayed across your jaw with a grip that’s more desperate than tender.

And then he kisses you.

Hard.

The world narrows to the heat between your mouths, the press of his body, the taste of adrenaline and fury and everything you’ve both been holding back for far too long. It’s not gentle. It’s not careful. It’s wild—teeth clashing, breath stolen, lips bruising with the force of it. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if there’s even a sliver of space between you.

You kiss him back. Gods, you shouldn’t—but you do.

Because all that tension, all the biting words and hard stares and dangerously close moments—it’s always been this. A storm waiting to break.

Your blood is still warm from the fight, your shoulder throbbing, and yet none of that matters now. Not with his mouth on yours like it’s the only way he knows how to speak, like it’s the only language he trusts. You push against him, not to stop him, but to fight back—matching the kiss with your own ferocity, your own aching confusion. It’s a battle neither of you were ready for. And slowly—breath by breath, touch by touch—you start to lose.

And you don’t even care.

But eventually, reality crashes back in. The smell of smoke, the taste of copper, the ache in your arm—all reminders that this shouldn’t be happening. Not here. Not like this.

You break the kiss with a gasp, chest heaving, lips tingling. You don’t step back—can’t—but you meet his eyes with yours, and for a moment neither of you says a thing. His hand is still on your jaw, thumb brushing your skin like he doesn’t want to let go.

“That was a mistake,” you whisper, though your voice cracks around it.

He leans in again, lips brushing your jaw.

"Was it?"

____

The war catches up faster than expected.

You’re stationed together during a border defense—an urgent call. When your squad gets split up, it’s just the two of you, back-to-back against impossible odds.

You're both barely standing.

Wounded, exhausted, covered in dust and blood that isn't just your own—your limbs ache with the weight of the fight, and your vision blurs at the edges, but you move. Because you have to. Because stopping means dying. The enemy is relentless, the air thick with smoke and magic and screams swallowed by the night.

And then something shifts.

A flicker of movement—a flash of metal too fast to counter. It’s coming for you, and you don’t see it until it’s too late. You spin on instinct, weapon raised, but it won’t be fast enough.

You feel the power surge behind you first. Cold and consuming.

His shadows explode into your periphery, dark tendrils lashing forward like living smoke, forming a barrier between you and death. They strike with feral precision, swallowing the blade before it can reach your skin. The sound is sickening—a clash of steel against something ancient and unnatural.

But then—

A strangled breath. The shadows falter.

And you know.

You turn—heart already breaking, throat already tight—and scream his name, raw and panicked.

"Xaden!"

He’s still standing. Just barely.

His body is between you and the blow. His shadows flicker and writhe around him, unsteady now, like they’re confused. Hurt. And then you see it—dark crimson blooming beneath his armor, soaking through the fabric at his side in thick, spreading waves.

The blood.

Your breath stutters. “No.”

He sways once before catching himself, jaw clenched, hand pressed to his ribs like he’s trying to hold himself together with sheer will. His face is pale, eyes clouded with pain, but locked on you—only on you. Like the rest of the world doesn’t matter as long as you’re still breathing.

You’re already moving, dropping to your knees beside him, hands scrambling for pressure on the wound, for anything that’ll help, that’ll do something. But your hands are slick with his blood, and he’s already too cold, and he’s still looking at you like you’re the only thing he’s sure of.

“You idiot,” you whisper, choking on the words. “You weren’t supposed to—I didn’t ask you to—"

He reaches up, fingers brushing your cheek in a ghost of a touch. “Didn’t need to.”

You press harder on the wound. His shadows respond, curling weakly around your hands like they’re trying to help, trying to hold on.

“Don’t you dare die,” you growl, fierce and shaking. “Do you hear me, Xaden? I’m not letting you.”

And he gives you the faintest, bloodstained smirk—equal parts defiance and affection.

"I know you won't."

You pull him close feeling his heart starting to slow as you sob.

Later, after the healers stabilize him, you sit at his bedside, holding his hand.

When he wakes, he groans but smiles as soon as his eyes meet yours, “You again.”

“Welcome back,” you reply, tears slipping down your cheek despite your smirk.

“I almost died.”

“You almost left me.” Your voice cracks. “That’s worse.”

He lifts your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against your knuckles.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “Not unless you’re with me.”

After that, the shadows soften completly.

They don't disappear, they are still here but know they protect you, fight for you, sleep with you and dream with you.

He still growls at you during training. You still roll your eyes and make a snide comment. But the fire between you is no longer all heat and rage—it’s warmth, too. It’s home.

[kleopatra45]

Mercury in the House [Solar Return]

Mercury in the 1st House

When Mercury is in the 1st house of your Solar Return chart, communication and intellectual pursuits take center stage for the year. You may find yourself more curious, talkative, and eager to learn. Your ability to express yourself is heightened, making this a great year for networking, studying, or starting new projects that require mental agility. Be cautious of becoming overly nervous or scattered in your focus.

Mercury in the 2nd House

With Mercury in the 2nd house, your thoughts and conversations will revolve around finances, possessions, and personal values. This year, you might explore new ways to make money, manage resources, or assess your worth. Analytical thinking will aid in budgeting and investment decisions. Be mindful of not becoming too materialistic or overly worried about financial matters.

Mercury in the 3rd House

Mercury in the 3rd house emphasizes communication, learning, and short trips. This year, you may be more involved in writing, teaching, or engaging in frequent conversations. Your mind will be sharp, and you could take on new studies or skills. Siblings, neighbors, and your immediate environment play a significant role in your experiences. Watch out for becoming too scattered or superficial in your interactions.

Mercury in the 4th House

When Mercury is in the 4th house, thoughts turn towards home, family, and personal foundations. You may find yourself more involved in family matters or interested in genealogy and history. Communication within the home becomes crucial, and you might engage in home improvement projects or move residences. Emotional intelligence is essential to navigate family dynamics effectively.

Mercury in the 5th House

With Mercury in the 5th house, creativity, romance, and children are highlighted. This year, you might explore creative writing, engage in playful intellectual pursuits, or enjoy hobbies that stimulate your mind. Romantic relationships could involve more communication and mental connection. Be aware of becoming too critical or analytical in matters of the heart.

Mercury in the 6th House

Mercury in the 6th house focuses on work, health, and daily routines. You’ll likely be busy with work-related tasks, and your attention to detail will be sharp. This is an excellent time to organize your workspace, improve efficiency, and focus on health through diet and exercise. Avoid becoming overly worried about minor health issues or getting bogged down in mundane details.

Mercury in the 7th House

When Mercury is in the 7th house, partnerships and relationships take center stage. Communication with significant others, business partners, or close friends becomes crucial. This year, you may negotiate contracts, resolve conflicts, or discuss the future of your relationships. Be cautious of becoming too argumentative or overly reliant on others for mental stimulation.

Mercury in the 8th House

With Mercury in the 8th house, your thoughts dive into deep, transformative topics such as psychology, finances, and shared resources. You might engage in research, explore occult subjects, or deal with inheritances and taxes. Intense conversations and a desire for profound understanding mark this year. Be mindful of becoming too secretive or obsessive in your thinking.

Mercury in the 9th House

Mercury in the 9th house emphasizes higher learning, travel, and philosophical exploration. This year, you might pursue studies, travel abroad, or engage in discussions about religion, law, or ethics. Your mind will be open to new ideas and cultural experiences. Avoid being overly dogmatic or scattered in your intellectual pursuits.

Mercury in the 10th House

When Mercury is in the 10th house, career, and public image are in focus. This year, you might take on roles that require communication, writing, or teaching. Your professional reputation could be shaped by how effectively you express your ideas. Networking and strategic thinking will benefit your career. Be careful of becoming too consumed with public opinion or overly concerned with status.

Mercury in the 11th House

With Mercury in the 11th house, social connections, and future goals take precedence. This year, you might join groups, clubs, or organizations that align with your interests. Friendships and networking play a significant role in achieving your aspirations. Collaborative projects and innovative ideas will flourish. Avoid spreading yourself too thin or becoming overly dependent on group approval.

Mercury in the 12th House

Mercury in the 12th house brings a focus on introspection, spirituality, and hidden matters. This year, you might find yourself drawn to meditation, dreams, and subconscious exploration. Communication may take on a more private or secretive nature. Writing in a journal or engaging in solitary intellectual pursuits can be beneficial. Be mindful of becoming too reclusive or overwhelmed by unconscious fears.

Retrograde

Mercury retrograde in the houses of a Solar Return chart signifies a year of introspection, reevaluation, and revisiting past issues related to the themes of each house. Communication may be more reflective and internalized, with possible misunderstandings and delays in these areas.

In the 1st house, it prompts self-reflection and identity reassessment

In the 2nd house, a reevaluation of finances and values

In the 3rd house, reconsideration of communication and local interactions

In the 4th house, reflection on family and home life

In the 5th house, rethinking creativity and romance

In the 6th house, revisiting work and health routines

In the 7th house, reassessing relationships

In the 8th house, deep introspection on shared resources and transformations

In the 9th house, reconsideration of beliefs and long-distance matters

In the 10th house, reevaluation of career and public image

In the 11th house, reflection on friendships and future goals

In the 12th house, a deep dive into the subconscious and hidden aspects of life.

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