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transboyswitchytales · 1 day ago

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Dirty Paws and Gentle Kisses

Part 1 - You were trapped in the body of a wolf. An old curse. In the day you were a beast and in the night a witch again . You first met Agatha because you came to kill Evenora. Agatha’s mother cursed you to the body of a wolf as punishment. Where will fate take you from there?

Warnings: WOLF GORE / Bloody / Violence / Nicky Grief / Found Family / Kidnapping / Mind Control / Hallucinations / RioxRxAgatha / Wolf Curse / Killing / Eating People / WOLF BITES / MDNI 18+

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You first met Agatha in the cold winter of 1750. Most towns were worried about sickness and the devil cursing their newborns.

You ate wild animals raw, and tried to stay out of sight. But it was an impossible task these days.

You’d tracked her scent to a forest far outside of Salem.

It was the moment right before sunset.

Your cursed animal form was only tracked by the changing of the moon.

At night, you would return to your witch form, and in the day, you would become a beast once more.

You were bound to the cursed body. Fur and paws, to walk on all fours like a mutt.

Your turn would come soon. You saw her, she was gorgeous even back then, even at a distance. The snow gently fell around her, like she was an angel.

It was eerily quiet. And your plan was to be patient, to wait for her to fall asleep. To wait for Evanora to emerge, but you didn’t see the old crone.

And you didn’t know Agatha had clocked you hours ago.

Not until you stalked just a little closer and she spoke to you in the silent darkness.

“I am not your meal.” She poked with a fire ember with her stick, “Alas, poor creature, you are not only a beast, are you?” Agatha said, and her eyes turned to you. You went to pounce, but the sunlight broke behind the horizon; it was night once more, and you gasped in pain.

A pain you knew too well.

Your back was always the first to break.

The bones snapping as you split the skin of your canine form. The hair and muscles bursting at the seams, as your bloody human form broke free once more.

You pushed the guts and wolf fur off of your shoulders. Standing up, off all fours, now you try to ignore the pain, steam coming off of your blood-soaked body. Your red, soaked feet stain the snow beneath you.

You finally look into the blue eyes of the young witch.

She’s even more beautiful now. You can’t hurt her.

“You are not Evanora.” You state as the sky changes color, as your naked body stands in front of her now. Agatha looks more impressed than horrified or disgusted.

She eyes your nudity with something close to arousal, but you don’t think about that.

The witch answers you plainly.

“No, I am not. If you are looking for my mother. You can find her corpse in the woods of Salem, along with the rest of her coven of rule followers.”

You don’t decode her obvious malicious feelings for her mother. You just try to stick to the facts. Not interested in spending too much time here.

“You killed her?” You ask outright, and Agatha studies you for a moment before nodding once. Like she hadn’t actually talked about it yet. It was not long ago. Maybe she hadn’t come to terms with it yet.

“Well, I guess you saved me from my vengeance. Have a good rest of your night.” You say and turn your naked bloody ass away from the witch but she stops you. Her young voice sounds too old now in the night, like she’d experienced more than most.

“She did this to you? My mother cursed you.”

You wonder why she sounds needy for your company.

You turn and Agatha uses the stick to point to a fallen log next to the fire, near her own seat. It had been so long since anyone had shared a fire with you. Since anyone had shown you any kindness whatsoever. You had become used to being a beast.

To being feared.

You didn’t remember what manners even were at this point.

You walk over to the log and sit, and she reaches behind her back, and you move to get up and run. Like the creature of survival that the world has made you become.

Agatha hears the twig snap and turns, seeming desperate to calm you. She puts a hand up.

“Whoa! Easy sweet thing, I’m just getting you a blanket.” She says, keeping one hand up, and moving slower now, and you feel a little torn. But you ease your naked ass back down, and she pulls out a big grey wool blanket and hands it to you. You wrap it around your wet, bloody shoulders. Realizig she doesn’t know you don’t really get cold often, but perhaps this was about the nudity. You forgot that people didn’t do nudity.

“I know of you. They speak of you in all towns.” Agatha muses like she’s telling a campfire story.

You eye her curiously, not sure you want her to continue. She doesn’t read your expressions but you ask;

“They know what I am?”

Agatha seems to be delighted to tell you now.

“Of course not, they think you are biblical. They think you are Lilith or of Liliths doing. Coming back for the good church woman. They pray to their saints and their virgin Mary. They use your wolf form like a fable for children and wayward outspoken wives. They say you are a bedmate of witches, that you teach them how to make love in satanic ways. They whisper to each other; ‘Do not play at night by a bonfire Liliths hound will devour you’ or ‘behave and eat your dinner or the wolf will get you,’ or ‘do not touch yourself before god, for Lilith's wolf form will turn you into a harlot.’” Agatha scoffs at the end. Shaking her head and biting her bottom lip like it’s such a great legacy you have.

You wonder if she herself wants to be feared, perhaps she’d given up on being loved. But you feel ashamed at her stories, not proud. Your gaze drops into the fire now, leting the light burn your eyes.

And Agatha is watching you again, and seems to think you don’t find these stories funny. Not like she had. So she changes the conversation, and you wonder if it’s fear you will leave her alone again. Or if perhaps her wicked curiosity is finally winning out.

“My mother turned you. You were…a witch?” Agatha asks, and you know she can read your magical signature. You practiced the craft, of course. But you didn’t usually get this far in communication with someone else to be called such a thing anymore. You’d been cursed for so long now. And Agatha was but a babe to you in comparision of age.

You nod once, not used to speaking this much.

“You have been alone a long time, then?” She asks, and you study her face now, the soft way she looks in the light. You wonder if you’ll ever forget her scent now that you’ve smelled it.

“Are you asking if I have become domesticated? Who would want Lilith's hound around?” You scoff at the absurdity of anyone wanting you.

Agatha smirks now, and you don’t understand why in that moment.

But you found out.

Agatha became your everything after that night.

You became Agatha’s protector for many years, both against danger and loneliness. She whispered secrets to your fluffy ear as she ate berries by the river. You killed witch hunters for her, snapping their necks with the force of your jaw. Young Agatha waited for you each night to turn into a human once more and she snuggled into your naked, bloody side. You taught her magic her mother had been afraid to. You taught her more about mind control, and she’d learned fast. She tried to stay awake every night and would eventually fall asleep again. In the morning she’d have a moment of disappointment that you hadn’t kept her awake, and that you couldn’t speak to her as a wolf.

You were at her companion, her teacher, her confidant. You both traveled to different towns. She’d developed a crush you realized. She tried to kiss you one night and you had reminded her that you were much older. Agatha didn’t take your rejection, continuing to attempt to woo you. You kept her at arms length until she was older, and older she grew.

Agatha grew into an amazing witch, wiser, more powerful, more murderous.

You found one night as you turned you couldn’t resist her anymore.

And you taught her just like the folk tales, what it meant to make love by firelight from a beast.

It was beautiful for a long time.

And then it got even better.

You were there the day Agatha met Rio. Agatha had summoned Rio from a dark book she’d found. You had told her not to do it for you. But Agatha swore she’d undo the curse her mother had given you. That you would marry and have children together. You never believed her.

So when she summoned Death, you were ready to defend your witch to the death.

But Rio took off her skull mask and studied you.

“So is she your familiar?” She asked Agatha but stared at you.

You snarled at the term, body ready to pounce, to wound. You couldn’t kill Death, but you could injure her so that Agatha could get away.

“I would not do that if I were you.” Agatha warned, but Rio wasn’t persuaded. She tried to get closer to you. “She’s not domesticated like that, she doesnt’ like to be touched, not even by me. And I love her.” Agatha said the last part and thought you heard hurt in the witches words.

“What?” Rio asked, but bent down to you. She put her hand out, and your lip raised and you growled deep in your throat. It filled the space with the vibrations. “Hey, pup, you have no reason to fear me,” Rio said, and you backed away from her.

Agatha kneeled next to Rio on the forest floor, putting her hand out to you. As if perhaps your lover could entice you to be kind to Death.

“Let’s play, ok? I just want to be your friend.” Rio said, and you didn’t believe her, not yet.

“Rio, can you change her back?” Agatha asked and turned to Death, realizing perhaps this was a mistake.

Rio thought for a moment before shaking her head. She did look sorry though, like she wanted to help.

“I wish I could, but Evenora did a number on you, sweet beast. I think there’s a reason you are stuck like this. Cursed like this, and I cannot lift it.” Rio spoke to you even though Agatha asked the question.

You moved to leave them alone, aware of their pheromones. Knowing they already were attracted to each other. You moved to leave them, to rid yourself of them both.

Agatha deserved someone who wouldn’t turn into a monster in the light of day. And Death may be a monster, but your gut didn’t say so. Perhaps they would be good for one another.

You however, knew you didn’t deserve good things. So you’d say goodbye to Agatha. As horrible as that was, and as much as you didn’t want to.

You sprinted now, getting distance between heartbreak.

Agatha yelled for you, you heard her cry out in grief, as you ran into the forest.

You hadn’t expected Rio to be the one to run after you. Or that she would be quick enough to get one over on you, but she was all powerful.

But Rio wasn’t about to let you run, she tackled you to the ground, and you bit her hard in the shoulder. Where her neck and shoulder met you whipped your wolf head back and forth to try and break her. It was a moronic idea.

“Damn, you got a set of canines pooch.” Rio hissed as you didn’t let go of her meaty shoulder. “I’m not taking Agatha away from you. I just want to be a part of it, come on. Get to know me! You might like me around!” Rio asked, and you bit harder.

But her one hand slowly moved to your ear, you didn’t even let Agatha pet you. It had been something that had always bothered your lover.

But as Rio’s hand moved into your thick tufts of fur, you found a new feeling. Something you’d never experienced before. A chemical release…joy? And you unhinged your jaw, letting go of Death from your bite. And Rio signed at the release of pressure, but scratched behind your ears and then your neck.

You had never really been pet before. And you were unsure that you should have not allowed Agatha this intimacy. It felt so good, so warm and welcoming. Your wolf body didn’t feel it’s usual pain as Rio made sure her sharp nails got into your fur and really got the good spots, and deep too.

You tried your best not to allow your tail to wag.

“You’ve been hurting for so long, huh? You don’t need to hate me. I am the beginning and the end of all things. Perhaps you can trust another soul? I won’t harm you, and I swear I’ll protect your witch. The one who summoned me, you care for her. Let me in, see if you like me, huh?” Rio asked, and she moved to scratch your neck, and your furry behind plopped down. Rio smiled at your obvious enjoyment to her touch.

She’d never experienced someone like you before. But she’d heard stories of you. And now that she was here, Rio wanted to help Agatha. She wanted to break you free from this.

The years moved by like endless cycles of the moon.

You watched them try everything to change you back.

No such luck.

Other beautiful things did happen though, by accident as it turns out.

You helped Father Nicky with Rio.

At first you were sure it was just Rio and Agatha. But Aggie showed you with magic….he was the best of the three of you. She swore she spoke no spell he was made from love.

You’d been so afraid he’d come out with fur.

You hadn’t expected to growl at Rio as Agatha gave birth. As Rio stole your family time.

But Nicky didn’t come out with whiskers, he was beautiful.

Nicky took naps slept on your hairy stomach. With Agatha curled around you both, she pushing her face into your furry neck. She felt at ease cuddled against you in the woods as your newborn slept.

It was hard to only get to talk to your family half the time. And you ached for Rio still.

There were so many ways you felt you’d failed your son and wife. You couldn’t help her care for him in the day. But somehow you three made it work. Even as you traveled and Agatha would get exhausted from carrying your son. You made quick work of becoming his personal horse.

Nicky loved riding on your back, Agatha always reminded him to hold onto your fur between your shoulders. But he giggled and kicked your ribs to go faster.

You protected your family. You licked your son’s tears when he fell. You growled at anyone who tried looked at Agatha funny. You hunted for their dinner.

But wolf of witch, you could only protect so much.

So you were powerless as you watched your child grow sick.

You were stuck in wolf form as Agatha buried your child. Unable to console her.

You were bound to your beast form to watch the end of your family.

You found out there were worse curses than being chained to an animal form.

Losing Agatha.

Losing Rio.

Losing Nicholas.

That was the curse you had now, much worse than a wet nose and fluffy tail.

It was 2024, and you were in the middle of Tongass Forest in Alaska. It had over 17 million acres. Besides the odd bear and hunter, you never saw people.

The winters were harsh and the summers felt long.

You were alone.

It was on purpose, it was better this way.

So you hadn’t seen it coming.

You’d smelled Agatha before, but it was usually a hallucination. A trick of your cabin fever. This long alone in the forest did things to your senses.

Sometimes you thought you heard Nicky laughing and playing tag in the sunlight in wood. So you were no stranger to the tricks of the mind.

You had a small campsite in the middle of nowhere. It was a few things: a tent, an old rifle, and your drawings. You kept paper and a graphite stick, you’d drawn so many illustrations of; Rio, Nicky, and Agatha. You hung them on a long wire from two trees. They were stuck to clothespins. Everytime the wind picked up the drawings of your loved ones fluttered like wings of a butterfly. You stared at the drawings like ghosts were your only company in madness.

You had collected some river rocks in a small circle, and had a fire in it, an axe stuck out of a trunk, and stacked wood you’d cut. You didn’t make a fire often, as you didn’t want anyone to find you from the smoke. You packed your stuff up after each full moon and would hike to find a new area.

So when the night came again, and you walked naked and bloody after shedding your second skin, and you’d gone to relax at the campsite.

You never in your wildest dreams had hadn’t expected Agatha.

You had stopped hoping for Rio long ago.

And you sure as shit didn’t expect a coven of strange witches.

And a boy…who looked so much like Nicky. But his eyes weren’t right, and his curls didn’t match. So you knew your mind hadn’t made him up.

You stopped and stared at the group. They all stared back at your naked form.

Rio was the first to move as she grabbed the wool blanket you’d saved from the first night with Agatha. The one they both used to wrap around your human form after shifting. The one you used to tick Nicky into.

“Holy shit! You are Lilith's Hound!” One of the witches said, and Agatha snapped at the witch named ‘Jen’. Knowing you hated that nickname. But Rio slowly approached you with the blanket. Like you were the same animal she’d met in the wood that first day. Not someone she’d made a child with, not someone she’d had a marriage ceremony with. Not someone she’d claimed to love for eternity.

But her eyes held those feelings still. And you studied her as she wrapped the blanket around you and then ran her hands up and down your arms to warm you.

“Hey, how's my sweet pup?” Rio asked, and you turned your chin away from her. Looking over at Agatha whose eyes filled with tears at seeing you again. Seeming to be feeling so many things all at once. But she was rooted to her spot. Like she hadn’t really believed they could find you.

You look back at Rio.

“Is this real? Or am I?” You ask, and Rio looks upset by the ideathat you’d hallucinated them.

“It’s real, we’re here. Took forever to find you, you are one hard soul to trace.” Death said, and you reached out a dirty hand, and Rio didn’t move. She froze to her spot now.

You touched her cheek, and she closed her eyes like the feeling of you touching her was all she’d ever wanted.

Like everything could be ok again.

“Am I dead?” You ask, figuring the next time you’d see your wife, it would be death.

Rio’s eyes shot open, and her jaw set.

“No, no, it’s not your time. I’ve been looking for you for so long, and you kept running away.”

Your finger trails down to her jaw, and Rio tries to not react but you know her micro expressions better than that. She was enjoying your touch more than words could say.

You look over at the teenage boy, who looks extremely nervous at you, covered in blood and naked. Though he’s staring at you now that you are wrapped in a blanket.

“Who’s he?” You asked Rio.

“I’m Billy, I want to help.” He answers for her and you look over at Agatha. Who’s tears are now running down her cheeks. There was a time where you would have consoled her, or even licked her tears, that was not now.

Agatha’s voice chook but she spoke now.

“I told you I’d change you back. I promised.” Agatha whispered into the night, and you stepped back, bridging the blanket around your shoulders tighter. The whole coven steps forward like they’re afraid you’ll run. The hair on the back of your neck stood now.

But Agatha is the one who closes the distance to stop you.

Billy opens his mouth to speak, and Rio puts her hand behind her to stop him.

“You aren’t here. This isn’t real. And I don’t-” You start to drop the blanket but Agatha grabs the blanket and pulls you against her clothes body. She hugs you close to her chest, and you stiffen instantly.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I’m sorry I abandoned you. After….I shouldn’t have. Rio told me you….I-” Agatha doesn’t know where to start, and you pull your face back and she does the same to look into your eyes.

“You smell different, new body?” You ask, and someone behind laughs. Agatha puts her hand on your blood-crusted face, and she leans her forehead against yours. Like she’s finally able to breathe now that she’s found you.

She’s older but something about the act reminds you of your first week with her.

“I missed you whiskers,” Agatha whispered for only you to hear. You put a hand on her waist, and she almost moans but stifles the sound a little at you touching her again. Like she was finally home.

It takes some awkward moments after that.

The coven makes itself at home at your campsite. You are introduced to each witch, and you excuse yourself once you build them a fire. You keep eyeing the teenager who seems to be bursting from within, like he has so much he wants to talk to you about.

But you aren’t interested in any of the coven. You don’t care why Jen smells like wolfsbane, you don’t want to know why Alice has a leash and collar in her hand. And you don’t know why Lilia keeps looking into the sky as if she’s waiting for you to turn back in daylight. These witches had a plan, and you didn’t like that.

Agatha and Rio stand as you turn to leave the coven.

“I’m going to go clean up.” You point to the water not far from them. But both Agatha and Rio look nervous that you are going to run away. “I’ll only be a minute.” You attempt to reassure and reach over to your tent, grabbing a brick of bar soap you’d bartered forever ago from a tribal witch. Then you find a flannel and jeans you’d stolen from an abandoned campsite. You walk away, and you can hear Agatha and Rio bickering if they should follow you.

You throw the clothes onto the tree branch and then walk into the ice-cold water. You were used to it now. Because of your wolf form you ran hot no matter what now. You submerge your head for almost two whole minutes. Letting your lungs burn before you break the surface and take a deep breath. Turning to the shore, you don’t need your wolf nose to know that your two wives are watching you. Unable to give you space it seemed.

Rio’s sitting at the base of the tree with your clothes. Agatha is standing by the water’s edge, looking ready to jump into the water.

Something was up for sure.

You eye them but take the bar soap and start to scrub your face and hair. Bloody water ripples from around your body. It takes longer than you’d like to admit to get clean. It had been a minute since you’d needed to be presentable. You usually just dunked into the water and then sat under the stars naked.

But you dressed struggling with the buttons but Agatha came over and did them for you. You eyed her curiously, still not sure she was here. You’d forgotten how weird clothes felt on your skin. But her touch felt like a gravitational pull, like it had nothing to do with the buttons.

“Why are you here?” Your tone isn’t warm.

“I found a spell, and a caster… that could free you.” Agatha says, and you see her right eye twitch, the way you’d learn she always lied.

You turn to Rio.

“Why are you really here?” You asked her and she didn’t hesitate to tell the whole truth.

“Agatha tried to acquire the Scarlet Witch’s powers so she could be powerful enough to change you back. She didn’t feel like an apology would be enough for you to come back. Then the Scarlet Witch trapped her in a spell for three years. That kid is the now-dead witch's son. He broke Aggie out, they walked the road. Which he made real because he has his mom's chaos magic. Agatha got her powers back, I killed her. Billy and Agatha went and found Tommy, Scarlet’s other kid. Billy used his chaos magic to give her a body again. Agatha summoned me and told me we were getting the band back together. So we spent the last four months tracking you down. And she’s got our wedding rings in her pocket. We’re renewing our vows after we get you out of the wolf spell. Surprise.” Rio says, and Agatha fumes at her other wife.

“RIO!” She scolds loudly.

“She deserves the truth!” Rio shrugged.

“WE SAID WE WERE GOING TO EASE INTO IT!” Agatha snapped, and you stepped away from Agatha, and her fingers were too slow to grab your shirt to stop you.

“I don’t need your help. I’m doing fine.” You say and zip up your jeans. They’re too big for you but they work with the old leather belt. You loop it to the smallest one. Stepping away from them to keep the distance.

“You are not doing fine sweet pup. None of us are. We aren’t complete without each other.” Rio says carefully, and you scoff at Death. There was so much wrong with all of what she’d said.

“You’ve not seen me in a long time! How do you know I haven’t moved on!” You want it to hurt, and it works.

Agatha’s face darkened with pain, jealousy, and betrayal. You were her first love, you’d taken her virginity, you’d fathered her child. You were her wife. No one else would ever get to touch you. Rio was the only one who would ever understand. You three swore to never love another soul. You’d made a blood pact in fact. You still had the scar.

But Rio didn’t take the bait of your obvious barb.

“Because I’ve kept my eye on you over the past century! You haven’t let anyone in! You sleep under the stars and move the second I find you! Which is rude by the way!” Rio tried to make it sound like she found it funny but you knew better. You’d wished she’d catch you for so long, but then you knew you couldn’t confront her.

No, love had made you soft and weak. Love only hurt you, it was better to be alone. No one to hurt you, no one to hurt.

“Better to avoid you,” You say cooly at Rio and then turn to an upset Agatha,” better to be alone.”

You walk back towards the coven, but your wives stomp after you. You burst into the campsite to see the four witches talking around the fire. Their expressions growing to confusion as you look more upset than before.

“So is that a no on the vows!” Rio teases, but her voice gives her away, she’s hurt too.

“Can we talk about this?” Agatha shouts, and you stop in front of Billy.

“Stand up.” You say to him, and he doe,s but he looks frightened. You lean over and sniff him, and everyone looks uncomfortable at your action. You hadn’t been around people much, and social customers were still not your strong suit.

“You reek of chaos magic. You should let Agatha teach you. Or you’ll regret it.” You say, but what you were really doing was seeing if they told the truth. Rio was a trickster by nature as Death, but she didn’t lie to you. You were hoping this was the first time, you didn’t like the idea of chaos magic.

“She said you’d teach me too, after I change you. That you were important, that you are the best teacher. That you taught her.” Billys voice shook a little, and you realized he was intimidated by you. In the past you’d say something to stop his fear, now you were glad. Let him fear you, better that way.

“I’m not a teacher. And she’s mistaken, I’m not that kind of witch anymore. I’m just a feral wolf in Alaska. A beast like any other, nothing special, kid.”

“No you are like padfoot!”

“What?” You are confused and the goth teenager looks embarrassed. He looks at Alice for help but his eyes fall to you again as he explains.

“Harry Potter? Um right you don’t know pop culture out here…Um….he’s a character in a book Padfoot is an animagus. A man who can change into a wolf! He’s a godfather too, though, he’s like…good.” Billy says, feeling stupid now at the comparison.

“I’m not good. Don’t give me a nickname like a common house pet. I’ve eaten a fucking man whole. I’m a monster, not something to be around.” You warn him.

You turn to see Lilia, Alice and Jen who seem to be hanging on your every word. “You can all stay here tonight, but in the morning I’ll be gone.”

“Because you’ll shift into wolf form, but you’ll be back..right?” Billy asked, and you remembered Nicky asking you the same thing. Making you promise you’d shift back into his parent. Afraid one day you’d get stuck and not come back to tuck him into bed. He’d get so nervous too, begging you to keep Mama and him safe. You’d failed your son.

Looking at this teenager saying the same words made you sick.

Your face morphed into a grimace at him, and he didn’t understand why.

“No, I’m leaving tonight. I’m not interested in your offer.” You state and he looks so sad at your answer.

“What! We came all this way to reunite you with your family! To lift your curse! Agatha won’t let us do jack shit until we got you! Fuck even Rio’s been insuferable!” Jen yelled at you, only to have Alice slap her shoulder at your obviously menacing face.

“You came on a fool’s errand. No one can fix me. And I’m not safe to be around. Go back, follow the stream so you don’t get lost. Don’t let the poachers see you. Don’t travel at night.” You give your advice and walk to your tent.

“I was afraid I’d have to do this. But it’s for your own good, my sweet soft paws.” Rio said, and before you could move away from her, she touched your head, and your world went black.

More coming soon...

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#fanfic #fanfiction #kathryn hahn #ao3 fanfic #agatha all along #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha harkness x reader #audrey plaza #agatha x rio x reader #curse au #Spotify

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starinhereyes · 3 days ago

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party for you|van x reader fic

no crash college au? van palmer x reader

you and lottie always threw the best parties- both of you still living close to campus with your parents. half the freshman class came to the last few - but this time you were throwing it in hopes a certain red head came.

cws- fem!reader, underage drinking, weed use, kissing, randy is a bit forceful? at one part but it's not for very long.

2.4k words.

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‘ugh this all so useless i have no clue what to wear!’ you say sighing, throwing the shirt you just had on the floor.

‘wear that shirt that shows off your boobs you have’ your best friend nat scatorccio said as she sat on your bed smoking watching as you dig through finding the shirt she was on about and put it over your head. ‘see hot’ she says as you check yourself out in the mirror.

‘okay great, thanks, ’ you say, walking over to her, taking a drag of the blunt she was smoking- you would need it. hosting a wiskayok college party was always stressful, but especially this time needing to impress a certain red head.

almost like she read your mind nat talks, ‘so are you going to make a move or just eye fuck her like you’ve been doing the last 100 practices.’ you playfully shove your friend and take another drag before handing it back to her.

‘you have no room to talk your the exact same with taylor’ you reply smirking at nat teasing her for her crush on your captain.

‘look if she didn’t have that idiot around her, who i know she doesn’t even like, we’d be married with kids’ nat jokes ‘anyway this isn’t about me it's about you' she goes back to teasing poking your leg.

‘ugh i don’t know’, you say, flopping back on your bed ‘i’m helpless, besides, i don't even know if she likes girls.' nat laughs at this. 'i don't think we need to worry about that' nat says jokingly. she was right. van was the textbook definition of a girl kisser. 'okay i know, i know, it's just easier if i use that as an excuse,' you say, turning to look at nat, smirking, taking another hit from the joint.

the doorbell ringing downstairs broke you and nat from your talking ‘shit’ you say stubbing out the joint and running downstairs.

lottie mathews, jackie taylor and her on and off boyfriend jeff and his weirdo friends were at your door with their drinks ‘hi!’ you say before hugging both the girls and letting them and their questionable company into your house.

the party had been going for about an hour now, and van still hadn’t shown up you were walking around chatting with everyone, but kept thinking about the red-haired goalkeeper you wanted to show up, hoping every person that walked through your front door would be her.

god you were ridiculous.

‘dude come on have a drink’ nat says, slinging an arm over your shoulder, handing you a red cup with a vile-smelling liquid. you take a sip your whole body covered in goosebumps ‘jesus what the fuck is that’ you say coughing as nat laughs at you shrugging.

‘i don’t know, all i know is you need to enjoy your party’ nat says before whispering ‘she’ll be here soon’ you stick your tongue out at your best friend before walking into your kitchen to follow her advice.

a few minutes later, you see van walk into your house greeting everyone from your kitchen and your heart already gets caught in your throat.

calm down, you say in your head giving yourself a pep talk.

the way van walked into the party so seamlessly, fitting in right away, it was sickening.

caught up in your own head you didn’t notice the red head had walked up in front of you.

‘hey!’ she says cheerily.

‘hi’ you say awkwardly taking a sip of your drink to hide the blush creeping on your face. 'sorry i'm late, i needed to finish my homework for my film class' she says letting out an exasperated sigh. 'don't worry about it' you reply smiling like you hadn't thrown this party just for her to show up.

‘what are you drinking?’ she asks ‘no clue just mixed everything into one drink, probably not the best idea but it doesn’t taste too bad.’ you reply.

‘i’ll try’ she replied and you, maybe a bit too enthusiastically, started making her a drink. ‘here you go’ you say, handing it to her, not missing the way her fingers brushed against yours on the plastic cup. the touch sending butterflies in your stomach. watching as van held the drink up to her lips and took a sip.

‘you were right, not awful,’ she says the compliment making you blush again. 'should we go and join everyone else?' you ask as she nods and follows you into your living room, the sound of shoop by salt-n-pepa blasting through the speakers as a few girls on the team sung along dancing the view making you smile.

lottie grabs your arm and pulls you in to join them and you do, your alcohol concoction and the weed from earlier finally allowing you to relax a bit.

as you dance you glance back at van, not missing the way she blushed as you caught her staring at you before she turns and walks back into your kitchen.

a couple more drinks later you were definitely tipsy, finally catching up to the rest of the team and the gaggle of people in your house.

as you walk through your living room to try and find nat a hand grabs your arm randy walsh is looking down at you. you pull your arm out of his grip as he bends over his lips coming near your ear, ‘you look good tonight, great party’ he says before winking at you.

you fight down your up chuck reflex and just smile and thank him before turning to walk away but he grabs your arm again, ‘come on don’t play hard to get’ he says.

‘i’m not randy. leave me alone’ you spit out but he doesn’t let go of your arm. you feel another tap on your shoulder. ‘uh y/n i think we are out of ice’ you turn and see van there your heart rate calming.

randy lets go of your arm at vans presence and you take a step back before scowlign at him. ‘i’ll uh go and get some more’ you say walking toward your basement, van following you down the steps.

‘hey you okay?’ van asks as you make it into the basement. ‘yeah all good’ you say turning and opening the freezer. ‘we aren’t actually out of ice by the way’ she says, taking a step closer.

‘oh’

‘i just noticed randy being a freak and saved you’ she says and you put the ice back not turning to face her ‘unless you didn’t want saving? you could like him or something, shit i’m sorry’ she asks and you turn around.

‘oh no i definitely did uh thanks’ you say smiling reassuring her ‘i am definitely not into randy walsh’ you say making a gagging motion and she laughs.

‘okay good because that would be tragic’ she jokes. you tilt your head ‘why would that be tragic?’ you question the alcohol making you braver, flirtation laced in your words.

‘because you’re definitely way too hot for him’ she replies stepping closer. her proximity and words making heat climb up your neck as you blush deeply, if she asked you could blame it on the alcohol, but you got the feeling she wouldn’t. you swallow your mouth suddenly going dry.

‘did you just call me hot palmer? you must be drunk’ you say testing the waters.

‘i did, but believe me its not because i’m drunk.’ her words assertive and changing the tone of the conversation. your heart was beating so quickly in your chest you swear van could hear it herself.

it was just the two of you alone down here.

the realisation suddenly hit you like a ton of bricks, not helping the thumping your heart was doing in your chest. you were at a loss for words. hating that you apparently couldn’t flirt to save your life so instead you take a step closer to van. your chests now centimetres apart. you catch her glancing at your lips.

‘oh yeah?’ you quip taking your own glance at vans lips. ‘yeah’ she nods and grabs your arm pulling you closer before her hand cups your cheek.

‘can i?’ she asks looking at your lips. you nod and vans lips are on yours.

its a light kiss at first both of you feeling it out before you put your hand behind vans head deepening the kiss. both of your lips moving together, you could taste the alcohol from earlier on vans lips and it set your entire body on fire. you felt her other hand on your lower back, pulling you in closer like she was scared you would run. your free hand moves to grab the front of vans shirt pulling her in closer.

the movement makes van push you back. you now up against your basement wall with her tounge at the front of your lips. you open your mouth slightly letting her tounge in. you had never kissed anyone like this in your life. you were worried your knees would actually buckle beneath you.

until you hear the door open ‘are you two grabbing ice or what!’ someone shouts from the top of the steps. the two of you break apart quickly, lips puffy and panting.

‘uh yeah sorry bringing it now’ you reply breathless.

‘i thought you were lying about the ice’ you joke ‘i was, but we must have actually been out’ van said and you notice the deep blush on her face.

you smirk at her and grab the ice out of your freezer and turn to walk away but van grabs your hand and pulls you in for another kiss quickly before walking up the stairs. you compose yourself for a few seconds before following her up the stairs and into the kitchen with more ice.

it was getting late, the party was dying down only a few people remained and you were kind of hoping they were going to leave so you could start tidying and go to bed. you were in the living room talking to lottie and mari about how maris boyfriend just broke up with her for his second cousin. poor girl. you and lottie both giving words of comfort trying to console her.

‘we are off!’ jackie says with jeff and shauna as you get up and say goodbye. ‘we should probably get going too, i have a class at 9am’ lottie says ‘come on mar i’ll take you home’ pulling the crying girl up off your sofa.

‘thanks for coming’ you say sending them off and hugging your teammates. everyone else seemed to get the hint as the stragglers made their way out your front door, saying bye to you on their way out.

‘i’ll be going too’ nat says coming up behind you. ‘you don’t want to stay?’ you ask confused as she usually did after a party but then she nods her chin to someone behind you. ‘don’t want to intrude’ she says smirking and you look behind you to see why- van was stood there chatting to tai.

you poke nat before hugging her ‘page me when you get home’ ‘will do’ she says before walking out your house a knowing smirk on her face.

you walk toward tai and van hearing their conversation. ‘you want a lift home?’ you hear tai ask van, annoyance growing in your stomach at her tone. you had no clue why, must be the alcohol. ‘i’m okay, the walk would sober me up thanks!’ van replies as tai nods before saying bye to you and leaving.

it was just you and van stood in your front room now, the music still playing from the living room travelling through the walls. you both looked at each other ‘so i should probably leave as well’

‘no!’ you blurted out a bit too quickly ‘uh you can stay, if you want?’ you ask and take a step closer ‘you can help me clean up’ you say smirking van rolls her eyes. 'well what is in it for me?' she says stepping closer. her closeness having the same effect on you now as it did earlier downstairs in your basement.

the memory making your mouth dry.

'oh i see how it is palmer.' you say catching her eyes travel down your lips and your cleavage. making a mental note to thank nat for her shirt recommendation.

her gaze makes a blush travel up your cheeks, and she notices. you move away from her and into the kitchen to start cleaning up. 'come on then,' you tease.

after 30 minutes of picking up empty bottles and cups, your house was relatively tidy, you flop down on your sofa and look at the time 2am. van flops down next to you, her leg brushing against yours, peppering goosebumps on your exposed flesh. you crane your neck to look over at the red head relaxed on your sofa. staring at her.

'are we going to talk about earlier?' you ask, anxiety tying up knots in your stomach. 'if you want to?' she asks, opening her eyes to look at you. 'i mean like were you just drunk or like' you say, rambling looking down at your hands.

'it definitely wasn't because of the alcohol y/n,' van says reassuringly as she places her hand below your chin to make you look at her. the action making your stomach spin. 'okay good to know' you say, smirking.

you catch her glancing at your lips again so this time you move in and connect your lips to hers. your not sure if its because you had sobered up now, the weed and alcohol not swirling in your brain as much but this kiss felt so much deeper.

it turned hungry quick- both of you needing eachothers lips, you shift yourself so you were now hovering over van, each knee planted at each side. you felt her hands move to your hips, yours moved to behind her head. you pulled away for a second, looking down at her.

'fuck' you breathe out. before bringing your lips back down to hers, vans hands going underneath your shirt on bare skin. her lips trailing down your jaw. a quiet breathless moan escaping your lips.

'no-one is home did you want to go to my room?' you ask looking down at her, she nods. you stand up and pull down your skirt which had hiked up around your hips before grabbing her hand and taking her up the stairs.

the party you secretly threw just for her had worked out quite well.

#yellowjackets #yj #van palmer #van yellowjackets #van x reader #vanessa palmer #van palmer fan fiction #van palmer x reader #vanessa palmer x reader #vanessa palmer x you #van yj #yellowjackets fanfic #lesbian

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femdomlieeh · 1 day ago

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a wizard and an elf (m)

Sub!Masochist!Sunoo (ENHYPEN) x Dom!Reader

THEMES—nsfw ✧ wizard!reader x elf!sunoo ✧ just a tiny bit toxic(?)

WARNING—2.4k wc ✧ masochism ✧ spanking (m rec.) ✧ leaving him hard ✧ calling her master ✧ calling him a whore ✧ crying ✧ injury

NOW PLAYING—Abracdabra ✧ Lady Gaga

A/N. Thank you for 2000 followers!!<3 This is an old reupload except I edited it a bit and changed the idol. This summer I wanna get back to writing again! I'm starting uni and my program will be fully in English so I wanna improve my language skills, while also picking up an old hobby that is creative writing. I will reupload more posts while I'm writing new stories<3

M.LISTS—enhypen ✧ latest updates ✧ wattpad

✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

Once upon a time there was an elf. His name was Sunoo and he was lonely in the woods. Almost all of his people had been hunted down till death. The blood of a wood elf has immense healing properties and that is attractive to many people. Wood elves, in particular, are also exceptionally sexual but that fact is not as widely known.

Once upon a time there was a wizard. Her name was ___ and she was lonely in her tower. Almost all wizards and wizards lived alone but some had company of slaves. The blood of a wood elf has immense healing properties and that is attractive to people with magic.

One day the two met in the woods. The wizard was taking a walk to find a creature she could catch and try a new potion on and the elf was walking around trying to find a place safe to stay. When they saw each other they were both shocked. When ___ heard rustling sounds, she had been expected to see a common animal like a deer with gold antlers — not a wood elf. Sunoo had been wandering around in these woods for days only having the dissatisfaction of meeting touchy rose bushes, judgemental trees, gossiping squirrels and Adele wanna-be birds — so, to see another two-legged being in front of him sacred him. What if he would end up like all his elf friends? A blue potion for an astrology scientist to pour in a kettle to make a love potion or worse, to make a perfume?

The squirrels were giggling amongst each other, probably at the terrified elf.

Cautiously, Sunoo took a few steps backwards until his back met something hard. The wizard’ face darkened. She snapped her fingers and the tree held the elf in a tight grip. He was so terrified, he was not aware of the tree’s strong arms. His expression was one of great hopelessness; tears pooling in his eyes like the floods his elf friends were drowned in.

Her expression was one of great hope. A smile was plastered on her face, which was even rarer than the wood elf species itself.

But the smile made him cry. He didn’t want to die. He begged her to not hurt him, told her he'd do anything to stay alive. His people were almost completely wiped out and he had promised himself to not let it happen.

She asked him if he wanted to make a pact.

He said yes, a bit unsure.

She told him he could stay with her and keep his life but from that moment on he would became her servant.

He said yes, nodding excitedly.

She gave him a home, shelter, no risk of meeting a creature that would kill him for his blood. He owed her. She owned him. And so he his life was dedicated to serve her. That is not an ordinary story. Actually, it is my story. And that is of how we ended up here, in my tower.

Like usual I said "Alohomora" to open the door.

(Yes, wizards do have spells like that, because we're lazy like many other creatures.)

But the sight I was met by wasn't normal. There was Sunoo, on the cold floor, with blood in his eyes. Dumb elf was clumsy enough to knock over a few glass tubes with poison and curses that were on the shelf. It was clearly labeled DANGER with capital letters for his own safety. Dumb, dumb elf. I promised that I would keep him away from all evil even when the evil was because of me. I hated seeing him in such pain.

"Episkey!" Poof! The blood was gone. If it weren't for my magical abilities, or my being there, he would be to death. But if it weren't for my magical abilities, he wouldn't have been bleeding in the first place.

Sunoo looked around the place confusingly. The panic he had rushing in his veins was slowly turning to tranquility and warmth. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to be able to see and not feel pain. His gaze met mine and he kept it there. These days he’d gotten so comfortable around me that he wasn’t embarrassed to stare at me openly.

I walked him to his room. He knew that when I point at him I want something done, so he followed me. I pointed at his bed and he laid down.

"Rest. Don't move," I whispered and tucked him in without thinking too much about it.

But when I did I realized that I was being less cold than usual. I never came in contact with his skin, I only pointed at him when I wanted something done. And the only time I spoke was for spells, commands, small talk or greetings. His eyes were staring into mine, he was observing my face as if there were something on it.

"What?" I asked sternly, back to my old persona.

"You care for me..." he said slowly, almost as if he were trying to convince himself or as if he didn't believe it himself.

"Go to rest."

"But-"

"Silencio." He shut up.

Although he was healed, he needed time to rest since he’d been overworking himself lately with all the chores and building a mini garden of flowers in the balcony.

Sunoo slept until noon — which was the longest he's ever slept since he became mine — and claimed he was feeling well and capable of helping me.

The incident the day prior had shown the vulnerable part of myself, and I didn't want to seem more sensitive or weak, so I told him he could get back to helping me but he needed to stop being so damn klutzy. "Asylciaana." The elf brought said potion to my side instantly. I was working on creating a new spell and needed a hand to help me.

But then I heard the sound of glass shattering and a whine following it. It was as if he did it on purpose. Choking him was my go-to punishment when he didn't obey me — which wasn’t very often — so I recognized the sounds of his whimpers and attempts to breathe all too well. In my peripheral view I could see that he was holding one hand on his neck, most likely trying to loosen the grip the potion was holding, and the other hand on the floor trying to crawl towards me.

He was testing my emotions and he deserved to be punished so I let him suffocate for a few more seconds till his face become purple before I whispered "Episkey." His body dropped to the floor at the sudden release of pain. His chest went up and down as he tried to catch his breath. I smirked while keeping my eyes on the potion. Dumb, dumb elf. This would hopefully teach him a lesson. "Asylciaana," I said out loud, indicating that he should bring said potion to my side instantly as if nothing had happened. I couldn't see it but he had a smile on his face.

That night I woke up to the sound of a scream. It wasn't a scream I had heard before. The sound of one dying. I followed the scream to Sunoo's room. There on the bed he was sitting with his feet dangling in the air, unharmed and smiling. "So you do care about me?" his smile widened. My face was one of hatred. "Whore," I answered coldly and watched his face falter slightly. "Bend over. Do it or else I'll make you and you know I can." He got on the hard floor and leaned on the soft bed as if he in fact wasn't a disobedient whore.

"Tell me, why have you been acting like this recently?" He didn't answer me as if he was under a silent spell, but I knew he wasn't and that made me angrier than I already was. My hand went to his hair and pulled his head back. His neck was at an awkward angle and I was happy about it. He looked likes bitch. To add more to it, my remaining hand went for his neck in a grip that made him gasp.

"Answer me, whore," I spat at him. He didn't flinch. Instead he looked me in the eyes. "I wanted your attention."

"First you're a whore, then you're a whore without manners," I chuckled and tightened my grip.

"I'm sorry, Master."

He always addressed me as Master when I punished him and I always addressed him as whatever title he deserved.

"Don't lie to me."

His choked expression and eye contact proved that he really wanted my attention. But in the form of a reward. I could feel him gulp against my hand and kept my strong gaze at him for a moment before releasing his throat and pushing his face to the bed with the grip on his hair.

"Stay still, whore." He listened to me and heard my steps somewhere away from him. I was in front of his wardrobe and reached for something at the top of it. A slapper. It was placed there the day he first disobeyed me. Till this day it hadn't been put to use as he never had disobeyed me to the point where he deserved to be spanked with it. It was of leather and looked scary, but I knew it wasn't as scary as a whip — but he wasn't ready to be introduced to that yet.

I went back to him and stopped behind him. The sound of the slapper hitting the bed right next to his head excited him. "Count after every hit and don't you dare make a sound other than that," I whispered beside his head.

"Yes, Master," he said and I could hear in his voice that he was looking forward for what was about to happen.

He was still in his clothes, which was good since I didn't want him to feel the pain that was added when it was against naked skin. I sat down beside him on the mattress and that took his attention as he turned his head to me.

"Did I tell you you could look at me, whore?"

"No, Master," he said with no guilt in his voice as he took in the view of me with a slapper in my hand.

"Five spanks less."

His expression turned to one of confusion, "Isn't it supposed to be the opposite?"

"I know you like pain, you masochistic whore. That's why less pain is punishment."

He whimpered and turned his head back to the bed.

"Good whore," I praised with a light voice, contrary to the hard spank I left on his clad ass.

"One," he said steadily.

He's not going to be that composed for long.

I raised my hand and let the slapper hit him again.

"Two," he said, still not fazed.

I spanked him again and made him hold back a needy whine, while I was comfortably sitting on the bed.

"Three, Master," he said with a tone that told me he couldn't act so tough in front of me anymore.

I told him not to say anything other than numbers, but I let it slide since it was my title and I was too tired to react. With a yawn I slapped his butt again.

"F-Four," he said fast and tried to cover the impact it had on him.

Spank!

"Five," he said loudly and bit his lower lip to try not making it sound like a moan.

His fists gripped the sheets till they became light.

"Good whore, taking it so well," I praised, impressed he hadn't given up.

I went back to my rough self and spanked him harder, hoping he could take it.

"Six," he half-screamed in a slutty tone. Fit him perfectly. The sound of the slapper making contact with his ass was so loud it hurt my ears. Apparently his ass was quite sensitive too since he choked on air. His clothes were in the way of me seeing his ass, but I was sure it was red.

"Seven," he let out barely like when he was suffocating just the day before.

My smirk became visible as I saw how his body arched and how the side of his face crumbled into pieces of desire.

Spank!

"Ei-Eight," he whimpered and arched his back erotically out of both need for more pain and to keep his mind from moaning.

I noticed his action and thought he deserved more harshness. And so I went at it way more than before.

The increase of pain and pleasure noticeable as he immediately put his hand on his mouth the second after he said 'nine' since he was scared of making a sound.

My tired self couldn't help but laugh at his pathetic state.

"This is the last one, whore, be as loud as you want," I whispered from above him and spanked him the hardest I could to make him remember the pain for the rest of the day.

The moan he let out was high pitched and showed how much he had actually enjoyed it. Seeing his body reacting to his punishment was enjoyable, but hearing him was beyond pleasant.

"Ten. F-Fuck, Master," he moaned.

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe properly. I didn't even touch him with my skin and he looked completely fucked out. What a masochist. "Turn around," I ordered him. He did as told. His flushed face filled with sexual frustration and embarrassment and an apparent tent in his pants was what I was met by to my satisfaction.

"Water your flowers then clean every room and corner and everything you can think of, whore. I’m going back to the sleep you ruined — don’t make a sound until I’m awake," I yawned and walked away, leaving him alone on his bed.

"Yes, Master. Sleep well," he gulped and looked at me as I left the slapper back at its place on top of his wardrobe, now aware of where the wonderful tool was all along.

"I will if you don't touch your cock. So if you do and rob me of my sleep again you're fucked, understood?"

✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

"With a haunting dance, now you're both in a trance

It's time to cast your spell on the night

Abracadabra

Amor ooh nana

Abra-ca-da-bra

Morta ooh gaga

In her tongue she said

Death or love tonight"

—lady gaga

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nohoney · 3 days ago

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shotgunning with dabi

At 3am, the party starts to steadily wind down. A good portion of the partygoers have left and the remaining crowd are either debating on making a late night drive back or just crashing at the house. Designated drivers of certain friend groups or pairs carefully asses their company to be sure that they’re not too fucked up.

Dabi debates on what he should do; make the drive home or just make himself comfortable somewhere to get some sleep.

There’s still some alcohol in his system, but it’s just a light buzz so he could do either or.

He could make a decision if he had a little hit of nicotine.

A cigarette or a vape, doesn’t really matter to him as long as he could get a little bit of it. So he wanders the house, looking for a specific person that he knows he could rip off of. Luckily you’re not too far off, siting pretty on the couch while you’re rubbing the back of some passed out girl slumped over the arm rest and making conversation with some guy.

“Hey,” Dabi comes up and passively nods his head towards the guy you were speaking with, “I need a hit.”

You shrug your shoulders and shake your head, “Sorry babe, vape’s dead and I bummed the last of the cigarettes I had off someone I owed.” There’s no nicotine you can provide but you dig into your purse to present to him a joint tube. “I mean if you’re itching to smoke, I still have this.”

It’s a purple tube decorated with daises, a cutesy piece to hold a single joint inside.

Dabi almost wants to sneer at it but he doesn’t want to catch the attitude from you. Luckily the guy you’ve been talking to is his savior, presenting a spliff as a token of thanks for you watching over his sister. You don’t take it right away, playing the small back and forth of ‘are you sure?’ before humbly accepting the small gift.

It’s not a blunt but it’ll be enough.

Dabi lights up the spliff for the both of you when the both of step into the front yard, puffing to get the paper burning and takes his first hit. He keeps the smoke inside his lungs, holds for a few seconds, and exhales. A small cough erupts from him but nothing that makes his throat or lungs burn too much. You hog the spliff a little, only so that you can get high a little sooner. Glancing to your hand holding the spliff, he admires the shiny detailing of your nails and the dainty tattoos on your fingers.

They looked especially nice jerking his cock off this morning.

“Okay, I’m good. I just wanted to re-up my high.” you say after a small coughing fit and straightening yourself out. You tuck some hair behind your ear and fiddle with the little hoop earrings you put on. “Are you good to drive or did you want to just to crash here?”

“I’m thinkin’ for a bit.”

He’s pretty tired, and if he made himself drive then he has to reach a little deep to force himself awake long enough to make it back. But fuck, staying here means that he could finish the rest of the spliff and relax enough to knock out. He knows how you get however when you’re not sleeping in a place you’re not comfortable in.

Well not unless you get absolutely smashed.

“Hey I wanna shotgun you.” you proclaim, reaching your hand back out to him.

“I thought you said you were done.” he teases as if he wasn’t going to pass but lets you pluck the spliff from him.

Dabi watches you puff on the spliff before you look back up at him. The spliff is held delicately between your fingers as you put your hand on his shoulder, tilting your head up and your mouth pressing close to his.

Smoke is exhaled out by you and Dabi greedily sucks it in. There’s a buzz inside his head that’s not only from the nicotine. His lips tingle at the proximity of how close you are but you pull back. Fucking tease—you know he wanted to kiss you.

You lift up one foot and press the spliff against the bottom of your shoe to put it out. “So? What are we doing?”

He’s decided: back home it is.

#need him to blow smoke into my lungs and kiss me #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader

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thewinter-eden · 24 hours ago

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Blood Sugar Virus (46)

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Genre: Horror, zombies, strangers to lovers, angst, suspense, slow burn Pairing: Kang Yeosang x female!reader Warnings: based on the Wanteez Zombie episode, only a couple more chapters! I can't believe how long this has gotten

Story Summary: You (stage name Sugar) are the co-captain of a horror acting group. You and your guys are the ones the companies hire when they want to stage a zombie, ghost, or any vaguely horrific and dystopian episode. So when you get hired by Ateez to develop a zombie program, it's just another routine that you've done a million times. Everything's going exactly according to script--until suddenly it isn't, and it starts getting a little too real.

🏆 Esteemed Moot: @ramadiiiisme

⭐️ Reader Spotlight: @mrsminseochoi

< last chapter | masterlist

“Babysitting again. Great.” One of the soldiers complains, watching the group of you get up and find your balance again.

You’re no longer concerned about noise, the crackling of the building fire and the loud chatter of the officers covering your shifting and scraping through the dirt.

“What’s your name?” Woosung moves towards them, his rifle comfortably pinned to his chest. Even in the shadows of the fire and the lights flashing haphazardly through the yard, he looks like an unwavering force.

The soldier straightens immediately. “Lee, sir.”

At Woosung’s prompting looks to the others, they hurry to offer their own names.

“Kim.”

“Yoon.”

“Cho.”

“Listen carefully. You are to escort and protect these people until they are safe. Your only purpose in life is to ensure that they make it back to their families. Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir.” Lee gives a hurried nod.

“If you do anything to cause unnecessary noise or attract attention to them, my man will send you back here, and I will put you at the front of this shit, and your job will become being my meat shield. Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir.”

“And understand this: if I finish up here and find that they’ve been caught and you guys are still standing, I will assume that you’ve given them up. Do I need to tell you how that will go for you?”

“No sir.”

Woosung turns away from them, satisfied. He lifts his radio, glancing out over the line of men who are vigilantly watching the yard. “Tae. You’re going with the civilians to the service station.”

A minute later, Taegyeom appears through the trees, jogging easily towards you. Woosung pulls him aside to explain the plan, and leaves your group to prepare to leave.

You’re focused on righting yourself. Arranging your weight to settle as comfortably as possible on your bad hip. The stiffness in your thigh still aches softly from where Namjoon kicked you, but you can’t bring yourself to begrudge the pain.

If he had been here to hear you, you would have chewed him out all over again for it, but in his absence, all you feel is a sharp sorrow every time the bruise throbs under your weight.

“How do we do this?” Yunho asks, pulling himself to his feet and helping Mingi up with him.

You don’t realize he’s talking to you until Hongjoong turns towards you and waits for your answer. Surprised, you blink back at him. “Me?” You hadn’t been planning on assuming leadership, not since you made it out of the school and Namjoon fell.

You expected to be following, to let the role fall to Hongjoong. Most of your remaining friends are Ateez, and they trust him more than they trust you. He’s the obvious choice for leadership at this point.

Without your co-captain, you’re only half of a leader.

You can’t pretend you have any authority to stand on, not after you lost almost your entire family.

Yeosang’s arm is around your back again, stabilizing you as you falter on your bad hip.

“What do you think?” Hongjoong asks you. “What’s the best way to arrange ourselves?”

Your confidence in decision making has gone clean out of you. “I think you’ve got this, Captain. Your call. I can take the rear.”

He frowns at you. “We’re asking for your input. You’ve gotten us this far.”

You snort. “My entire team has been killed, or nearly mortally wounded. You guys should handle this.” You can’t lead without Namjoon. He trusted you. He carried you where you fell down, he took on half of every burden.

And now he’s gone, and you’re the one who sent him down to the basement when he was debilitated by Rosé’s death.

Your pretense at authority has failed.

“That’s not your fault.” Yeosang argues. “You couldn’t have controlled that.”

“Sugar,” Wooyoung is behind you. “You still want me on Jimin?”

You don’t answer him, still watching Hongjoong. “They’re your family.” You say softly. “I can’t make the decisions for you.”

He steps closer, expression somber. “Help me organize this. You have a good head for utilizing our resources and optimizing our strengths. Help me get them home.”

He’s preying on your sense of duty, weaponizing your protective instincts against you. “Hongjoong—”

“Please, Sugar. You’re a leader. A good one. No one has compartmentalized this hell and continued to be able to make calls based on the bigger picture like you have. Help me.”

A second passes, overwhelming waves of guilt warring with the strategies already rolling through your head. “You tell me if you think I’m making a bad call.”

He gives a single nod. “I will.”

You turn back to Wooyoung. “I want you to take a break. Jongho, you take Jimin. Pay attention to when he needs to rest, and tell us when we need to stop. When you get tired, Wooyoung can trade places with you.”

The youngest goes to Jimin’s side instantly, setting himself firmly against the weaker man’s body.

“And I think Hwa should take over with Mingi to give Yunho a rest too.” You glance to Hongjoong, who has no argument.

Seonghwa positions himself under Mingi’s arm, leaving Yunho to stand alone, stretching out the soreness in his back.

“San, stay up front with me.” Hongjoong says. “If you need to rest, we’ll stop. How’s your chest?”

“Hurts like a bitch, but I’m okay.” San responds, shuffling to the front of your group to stand with the captain.

“Yeosang, are you good?”

Yeosang doesn’t budge from beside you. “I’m good, hyung. We’ll take the rear.”

Finally, Hongjoong faces you again. “Are you alright? Can you walk? If one of us needs to help you take some weight off, we’ve got Yunho and Wooyoung as floaters.”

You’re already reassuring him that you’re good to go when Yeosang’s hand closes around your good hip. “I’ve got her.” He says flatly. “Yunho and Wooyoung need to stay available for Mingi and Jimin.”

Nobody argues.

“If anybody needs to rest, we stop.” Hongjoong announces, loudly enough that Taegyeom and the four soldiers can hear him. “We’re ready.”

Taegyeom reaches you then, finished conferring with Woosung, and takes his position at the head of the group. He sends the four soldiers into places surrounding you, issuing orders to be aware and prepared for any potential surprises, and then with a single gesture, begins leading you through the woods.

“You’re shaking.” Yeosang murmurs, feeling the way you’re limping beside him.

Your body is close to exhaustion. Sitting in the dirt for so long and letting most of the adrenaline seep out of your system has left you weary and sore, all of your various wounds now screaming at you for attention. Where you had once been able to ignore the fiery sting of your hip, you’re now feeling it at the forefront of your attention.

Every step feels like a mallet swung against your leg, staggering agony shooting up your back from the torn muscles in your bite.

“Will you still like me if I have to be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life?” You whisper back, fighting a wince as your foot lands awkwardly on a root.

He chuckles softly. “They could amputate your entire leg and I would still like you.”

That strikes you as ridiculous, especially considering they’d have to sever the entire lower half of your body to cut away a wound so high on your hip, and you huff with amusement. “Jimin will be so relieved. I’m not sure he’ll get to keep his.”

“Gosh, thanks Sugar, that’s what I wanted to hear right now.” Jimin’s weak voice travels back to you from somewhere in the middle of your group.

“Sorry, Chim. You’re one leg closer to being the Terminator.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Alright, Master Storyteller, what’s the cover we’re going with? Have you come up with anything better than cannibalistic forest people or a botched cultish sacrifice?” Wooyoung asks, slowing his pace to walk next to you.

You reach out and push him forward, keeping him ever so slightly in front of you. “I can’t watch your damn back if I can’t see it, Woo. Stay up there.”

His gait turns jaunty, swinging his hips in exaggerated motions. “Get a good look, then. Make sure it stays pristine, alright? A lot rides on it in my career.”

“You sound like a fucking stripper.” Yeosang shoves at his shoulder. “Stop throwing your ass around, none of us want to see that.”

“She asked.” Wooyoung shoots back defensively. “I’m just trying to offer some entertainment in these trying times.”

“Save your energy.” You snort. “You’re gonna throw your back out.”

With a low snicker, he corrects his gait and grows serious. “I’m really asking, though, what do we tell people?”

“I know the guy was being facetious and everything, but I liked the cannibal cult thing. What do you think, Sugar? Couldn’t we make a totally dope horror program out of that?” Jimin calls back to you quietly.

Your group is moving in a close enough huddle that you can speak and be heard without making too much noise, so none of the soldiers try to silence you.

“You want to go from being nearly eaten alive to acting it out for the rest of your career?” You ask in disbelief, staring at the shadowy form of his back as though he can see the disturbed expression on your face.

“I can find inspiration anywhere.” He responds cheekily. “We might as well get paid for this traumatizing storyline.”

“Your zombie programs are gonna be fucking terrifying after this.” Yunho mutters.

You’re not sure you’ll ever be putting on programs after this. Your company was a unique one, the likes of which you’re not sure you can find again in another country. In all honesty, you’re more likely to find a crappy job with one of those companies that hosts murder mystery dinners, unable to offer any creative insight to the storylines.

“What do you guys think? It’s your fans we have to convince. What are they gonna believe?” You ask instead of humoring Jimin’s ideas.

“They know we were filming a zombie episode. We put out a promo a couple weeks ago.” Hongjoong supplies. “But Yeosang and San have actual bite wounds. Any doctor is gonna look at them and see human teeth marks.”

“Doctors won’t be allowed to share their findings with the public though.” You say.

“But if any of the press get wind of it—and you know they have sources everywhere—it will be all over the internet in a matter of hours. We have to come up with something close enough to the truth.”

Your mind is racing through the options. Even thinking is exhausting. “We can throw my company under the bus,” the words cross your lips with an ache of betrayal. “All of the offending parties are gone, it won’t hurt them to take the blame. If you want to say that my team went crazy and attacked you, you’d be well within your rights to do so.”

Jimin makes an indignant sound of protest.

Yeosang shakes his head immediately. “It will hurt their reputations and their families. And it’s not like they actually did anything wrong—they were the victims. They don’t deserve that. They should be remembered well.”

You didn’t think he could make your heart beat any faster, but there he goes again, shooting warmth from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“No, we’ll come up with something else.” Hongjoong agrees firmly. “And they won’t be found in the remains of the fire, not after the military covers it up. We’ll have to come up with an entirely different story for their families and your company to explain what happened to them. We won’t disgrace them like that, don’t worry.”

A rush of relief floods through you. You can’t think of a good way to explain their inexplicable disappearance off the face of the earth, especially one that their families will buy, but at least you don’t have to sacrifice their reputations so gracelessly.

You hadn’t even expected Ateez to take you up on the idea, but the part of you that still feels like an outsider felt compelled to allow responsibility to fall on your own shoulders.

“We can’t say we all went camping. We can’t point to a campsite or gear to back up our stories. None of us are dressed for camping, either.” You muse, shuffling through dozens of ideas. It would be easier to come up with a good explanation if your head wasn’t pounding.

“There are KQ vans back in that parking lot.” Seonghwa says. “And we’re recognizable to most people as Ateez. Even these guys knew who we were.” He gestures to your soldier escort.

If you come up with a good enough story, the military will likely support your story by either getting rid of the vans or abandoning them somewhere in a discreet location. “They’re going to take DNA samples from us. If we tell them we’ve been attacked by people, they’re going to be looking for whoever allegedly did it.”

“That’s assuming we’re being seen in-country.” Yeosang muses. “None of your team’s DNA is in a criminal database, is it?”

“Not that I know of, but I don’t want to risk somebody having been arrested before I knew them. If they match any of it to one of them, our story will fall apart.”

You hope you won’t be seen by anyone in the country who will run forensic testing, hoping you’ll be on a plane to somewhere else before anybody puts you in a hospital, but you can’t just assume that will happen.

But your bodies are littered with bite marks. You have to come up with something.

“But if we’re not approaching this like we want to press charges, would they conduct an investigation? We would have to consent to a medical examination like that, right? Since we’re victims? They couldn’t do anything but treat us without our permission.” Seonghwa says, glancing around for confirmation.

You don’t know.

You can’t be sure of the laws that would protect or offend your autonomy like that.

You know that in some places that’s the case, and it was true when you and the rest of your girls went in for examinations after the blacklisted client assaulted you, but how can you be sure that physical assault falls under the same rules?

“We came out here to film our horror program in the woods. Your managers dropped you off and took the vans somewhere to park them—you don’t know where, just that they’re supposed to come back and pick you up in a few hours. We’ll say Jimin and I rode with you.”

“But we don’t have cameras. And most of our mic packs are gone. We don’t have gear for that either.” Wooyoung reminds you.

“We’ll say we came out here for a rehearsal. Maybe we got lost in the dark. We can say Mingi fell and punctured his ankle on a root. He doesn’t have any bites.”

Mingi huffs a short laugh. “That’s believable. Seems like something I would do.”

“How rabid are your fans? Can we say we got attacked by people who recognized you and they just went batshit with lust?” You’re joking, but San gives an offended grunt.

“No way, we can’t go public by blaming our fans. That’s horrible. It would start a war. We can’t do that to them, it would be a huge, violent, hateful ordeal.”

“She was kidding,” Yeosang reassures him. “It was a joke.”

“I was kidding, San, I’m sorry.” You agree quickly. “I can imagine the consequences of that.” Fans of other groups would ostracize Atiny, they’d vilify them as a whole, they’d crowd outside KQ and call for veritable executions, cyber sleuths would do just enough foolhardy investigating to accuse innocent people of the crime, and actual lives would be potentially ruined.

Poking that bear would be almost more dangerous than just admitting the whole truth.

“We have to say someone attacked us. We’re too fucked up to claim anything else. Anyone can see human nail marks and teeth on us. We say we were attacked by crazies in the woods, and we don’t consent to an investigation. We just want things to go back to normal, we want to forget about it, we want to go home. We’re scared, we’re hurt, we’re too traumatized to speak. The less we say and the more emotion we put into it, the more we’re gonna get away with. If any of you want to go catatonic or nonverbal, feel free to do so. They can’t compare stories if we can’t even bring ourselves to get all the details out.”

“Any preliminary interviews are going to want solid timelines. We have to be able to account for just about every minute with perfect consistency.” Jimin says.

You spend nearly an hour creating the timeline and bouncing it back and forth between you until it seems just as true as what really happened. By the time you fall into almost satisfied silence, every one of you has it down pat.

They’re still quizzing each other on details when you let yourself sink into the background. Your body screams with near unbearable pain, every step now sending your brain into waves of dizzying darkness.

Pretty soon you won’t have to worry about reciting a rote script, you’ll be in some kind of traumatic coma.

You can’t figure out why all of a sudden you’re feeling such superficial wounds so strongly, except that maybe your body is finally tapping out from the physical shock and adrenaline that you’ve been powering through for most of the night without significant reprieve.

And if you’re feeling this faint, this immobilized by it, you can only imagine how San and Yeosang feel.

“Wooyoung,” your voice comes out in a breathless gasp, and he immediately turns to you. You’ve been walking for over an hour, and a bleary glance at the gps screen tells you that your group has only managed to hobble about a mile. “How’s your arm?”

He lifts the appendage to show you the bloody bandage that covers the spot where Taehyung bit him. In the dim light of dawn, fractured by the tree cover, you can see that the once white cloth is a ruddy brown color. “I’m okay, Noona,” he tells you. “It stings like hell but it’s okay.”

For a second, you can’t remember what you asked him, or why he’s showing you his arm. You blink, and your brain comes back into focus. “Good. Tell me if you need anything, okay? I have painkillers in my purse.”

“You’re not wearing a purse, Noona.” He slows, frowning at you.

You’re not. You haven’t worn a purse since earlier today, when you met a producer for lunch.

Yeosang taps your good hip. “Are you okay?”

“No, I know. I meant my duffel. No, wait, I don’t have it anymore. I’m sorry, Wooyoung, I dropped it.”

He glances between you and Yeosang. “It’s okay. I’m good.”

You focus on walking. Breathing in, breathing out. Letting your vision swim and reminding yourself that you’re going to land on solid ground. It’s muscle memory.

Knee up, foot down.

“San?” You can’t see him. Your eyes flash around the figures you can only see from behind. “Where’s San? Is he with us?”

Wooyoung comes to a full stop. “He’s with Joong. He’s okay. He’s here. Noona, are you okay?”

You shake yourself.

Of course he’s with Hongjoong.

Your damn brain just keeps sending you half packets of information, taking way too long to catch you up on things you should know without even thinking. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired.”

Yeosang moves to your other side so he can set your uninjured hip against his, lifting your weight off your bad leg. “You’re scaring me a little.” He winds your arm over his shoulders and proceeds forward with half of your weight draped over him.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, gasping. “I’m okay, I swear.”

You are okay.

You’re fine.

You’re just slow. Your brain is slow. Your body is slow. You’ve been through a lot and your head is pounding with deferred pain—you should be allowed to blank out a little.

You’re fine.

One step after another.

Ignore the fire in your shredded muscle, it’s easier with Yeosang helping you.

Don’t think about the open wound in your neck that feels like a knife jabbing into your throat.

You’ve been working through it all night, you can work through it now.

A grunt of frustration passes your lips. Why is your body rebelling now? Now, of all times? Why couldn’t it wait until you fall into a plush bed and be pitiful when you don’t have to think about your own survival?

“I just need Namjoon,” you murmur.

“I know, Sugar.” Yeosang’s voice is tight, trembling.

“Can you grab him? I need him to take over for a minute.”

Your legs stop moving.

No, Yeosang stops moving.

Your chest is warm and thick. He’s pulled you against him, his arm strong around your back. He’s warm. He’s solid, like a wall. So solid you can just lean against him and rest for a second.

“Woah, woah, stop—”

Your knees have buckled. They’re numb under you, wobbling like jelly, but you don’t hit the ground. Your head swims.

Where did the ground go?

Why aren’t your feet on the ground?

Something’s got you. Something has you in a vice. You can’t get away.

Someone’s pulling you. “No, no! Let me go—”

“Is she okay?” You hear Jimin. “What’s happening? What’s going on? Is she okay? Sugar?”

“Jimin! Jimin, where’s Jimin?” Your own voice sounds warbled in your ears.

“It’s me!” Someone says in your ear, low and soft. “It’s me. It’s me. It’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s me.”

Yeosang.

Of course it’s Yeosang.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

The sky stops spinning.

Your feet land on the ground, a shock of pain snapping up your spine.

You’re in his arms. “Yeosang.”

He’s all around you. Arms around your waist. Chest against yours. Face in your hair. Breath on your skin. “It’s me. It’s me. You’re okay.”

Namjoon is gone.

You’d asked for him.

You’d asked for him, and scared Yeosang, and he’s gone.

“Oh my god.” You let out a humiliated laugh. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m okay. I think I blacked out. I’m so sorry.”

You have to stand by yourself. You have to get yourself stable, to find your own strength, to lead them to safety. You can’t fall. You can’t be useless. You can’t be dead weight.

“I’m okay now. I’m so sorry. You can let me go.” You’re pushing against his chest, but he doesn’t relax his hold on you.

“Is she good?” One of the soldiers near you, Cho, asks. “What just happened? Is she infected? Is she turning?”

“She’s fine.” Wooyoung snaps. “She’s not a fucking zombie, she’s injured.”

Yeosang’s hand cups your face, pushing hair behind your ears. “Talk to me, what’s going on? Do you know where you are?”

Your lungs shudder like they can’t hold air.

“Say my name, Sugar.”

You can’t tell if it’s his palm or embarrassment heating your skin. “We’re in the woods. We’re going to the service station. I’m alright, Yeosang, I’m so sorry. I just got dizzy.”

Your head is throbbing.

You want to lie down.

You never should have rested back there, letting all the energy just drain out of you.

“Is she okay?” Yunho.

“We can stop for a minute.” Hongjoong.

“Someone tell me what’s happening, I can’t see her.” Jimin.

“Noona, we can carry you.” Wooyoung.

“No!” You still have work to do. They’re still counting on you. They’re your clients. You have to keep them safe. “No, Wooyoung-ssi, I’m okay. Let’s keep going.”

“Wooyoung-ssi?” He repeats with traces of disgust. “Hyung, I think she needs to rest.”

You wrench yourself out of Yeosang’s grasp and your leg spasms. Staggering to stabilize yourself, you plunge forward to get the group moving again. “No. We have to go. We don’t have time for this.”

They can’t wait for you.

You’ll make them go on without you before you let them waste time on you.

They have to be safe.

“Let’s go. Everybody keep moving.”

Your friends continue walking, slowly.

Yeosang is under your arm again before you can even process his presence.

There’s no pain.

Just walking.

No pain.

Just walking.

God, your head hurts.

“Can I carry you?” Yeosang asks softly. “You’re scaring me.”

A response flies out of you before you even think about it. “No, love, save your strength. You’re hurt. I need you to worry about yourself.”

He lifts more of your weight against him, even if you won’t let him just pick you up. You have a mile left to walk. He can’t carry you the whole way. Not with his neck and shoulders chewed up. Not even perfectly healthy.

“Someone distract me.” You whisper. “My hip hurts like hell, I need someone to talk.”

Wooyoung positions himself at your other side, taking your other arm. His grasp pulls at the torn muscles in your neck, but it’s such a relief to be lifted off your leg that you let out a shaky breath and ignore the throbbing in your shoulders.

“Does she call everyone love or am I just special?” Yeosang teases, letting his voice travel through the group.

Delirium is tugging at the seams of your sanity. “Baby, you’re specialer than you know.”

“Oh my god.” Yeosang snorts against your ear, soft chuckles rolling against your side.

“What the fuck, is she okay?” Wooyoung.

“She must be dying, I’ve never heard her call someone baby unscripted in my entire life.” Jimin. “She almost got married and she called that man ‘bro’ for their entire relationship.”

“And we were surprised when it ended badly?” Mingi mutters.

“Did she say specialer?” Hongjoong.

“That’s how she texts, dude, I swear to god.” Jimin.

“Cho, be ready to grab her if she goes down.” Taegyeom.

“Yes sir.”

“I’ve got her.” Yeosang says abruptly. “We’ve got her. She’s fine.”

You blink, waves of dizziness making you feel nauseous. “Please someone start talking.”

Called to duty, Wooyoung immediately starts gabbing, making sure to drag you into the depths of his senseless diatribe so you have no choice but to stay engaged. “So, now that the two of you are all lovey-dovey and gross, we’re gonna have to come up with a meet cute for you, and a soft launch for the fans.”

You frown, effectively distracted. “Soft launch? I don’t understand.”

“Well, fans can be very protective of us, and sometimes dating rumors and reveals don’t go over very well. But if we handle it carefully and ease them into it, usually they’re all over it and so supportive.” He pauses to lift you over a root before you can plant your foot on it.

You glance at Yeosang. “Wait, I don’t expect—I mean, I know today has been weird and wired, so I don’t expect any kind of—like, you don’t have to do any of that. I understand this just being what it is and moving on with our lives. It’s okay. I’m not stupid. It’s not like trauma bonding is gonna lead to anything when the danger passes.” Your face feels hot.

You feel like you should give him an out, even though your brain is blanking between every word.

Are you drunk?

Did someone give you alcohol?

Where did your ability to concentrate go?

“She’s in shock,” Taegyeom murmurs to Hongjoong. “Keep an eye on her, she’s likely to crash. How are the rest of you doing?”

“We’re good. Well keep moving until we need to stop.” The captain responds. “They’ve got her, they’ll take care of it.”

Yeosang is still laughing at your continued evidence of a nonexistent brain to mouth filter, his gentle voice like honey in your ears. “Baby,” he fires right back at you, pointedly. “Considering I was thinking about a soft launch a week ago, I really don’t think you need to be worrying about trauma bonding. If anything, this has been a therapeutic exercise in conflict resolution.”

“Way to make the fucking understatement of the century, dumb ass.” Wooyoung quips. “Your romantic dialogue needs work. I can give you some pointers. But anyway, about the fans—”

“You wanted to get coffee with me and announce a dating relationship from that?” You interrupt the younger man.

“I was hoping we’d have more than one coffee date.” Yeosang returns easily. “And thank you, by the way, for reminding me of that humiliating moment.”

“It’s only fair considering how often I’ve humiliated myself tonight.” You say. “Just give me this, jesus.”

He plants a fond kiss to your cheek. “It’s not humiliating, it’s cute. I rarely have to wonder what you think of me—”

“If you don’t shut up I will puke on your shoes for real.”

“Again, the crappy romantic dialogue—”

But Yeosang just slows you down. “Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?”

“Don’t stop.” You say quickly. “We can’t stop. If we stop, I’ll pass out or throw up or something. Don’t stop.”

He listens, and he and Wooyoung readjust their holds on you so they can take more of your weight.

“I’m fine, I can walk.”

“Like a drunk woman, maybe.” Wooyoung mutters. “And as much as I’m waiting for you to confess your love for him or tell us you’re daydreaming about licking his biceps, I kinda feel like that would be taking advantage of you, so please just shut up and let us help you.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up.”

“Sorry, Noona.”

“I don’t day dream about—”

“That’s enough, Sugar, don’t talk to him.” Yeosang says suddenly, fingers tickling your sides as he tightens his grip.

“Half a mile out.” Taegyeom announces.

“So I’m thinking you guys go on some nice dates, take some subtle pictures, like where it’s two coffee cups or you can see someone’s hand, or it’s just a nice view with some sappy caption, and then after a few months we just throw you to the wolves.” Wooyoung says thoughtfully.

“God, that sounds delightful. Can we not?”

“Wooyoung, stop, why would you say that? She’s never gonna go out with me.” Yeosang grumbles.

“She’s drooling on you, hyung, stop wringing your hands. You’re fine. It will work perfectly. By the time you make an official announcement, they’ll already have figured it out.”

Your mind reels with panic, your neck craning to wipe your face on your own shoulder. “Am I? I’m not drooling, am I? Yeosang? I’m so sorry—”

“You’re not, stop listening to him. Wooyoung.” His voice is a warning.

“I can’t even see her face like this, why would she believe me?”

“She can barely speak in a straight line, why would you play with her head?”

“I’m still here.” You mutter. “And my head is fine.”

Debatable.

But at the very least, you are processing words again and following the current events better than you were, so it’s unfair to be treated like you’ve gone slack-jawed.

Taegyeom utters a sharp hiss. “Everybody stop.”

The group comes to an abrupt halt, and past the whispering of the breeze through the leaves above you, you hear faint voices just past the tree cover.

Taegyeom edges Hongjoong and San backwards. “Those are officers.”

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tag list : @mysterysold @threevracha @igotajuicyass @velvetmoonlght @ramadiiiisme @mrsminseochoi @nightshadeblooming @furfoxsake22 @marvolos @lunaryoongie @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @noukstmblr

#ateez #kang yeosang #yeosang #ateez x reader #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang x reader #zombies #zombie au #horror #horror au

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leaawrites · 2 days ago

Text

For The First Time

Josh Jenkinson x fem!reader

Summary: first date with Josh, based on this request

Warnings: awkward at times, fluff, bits of angst

Wordcount: 2k

Masterlist, Inhaler Masterlist

Coming down from the high of touring the world, Josh was curled up on his sofa at home, scrolling through endless videos of their performances before throwing his phone to the side as soon as it became too much of the people he'd spent months with huddled up on stage or in the small space of their tour bus.

Staring at the ceiling, he let out a big huff of air from his lungs. Letting them refill and depuff in a calming rhythm. His mind running a marathon in slow motion. What was he supposed to do now?

Having spent months with no day unplanned, there was barely any time for calming down. His body always ready to react, his mind trying to grasp every conversation that was happening around him. All he needed was a break every once in a while.

What he once wished for seemed like a curse now though. The tiredness he felt on the road was now replaced by boredom and the boys endless chatter was now solely silence. Silence he couldn't bare for longer than a few seconds.

The screen of his phone lit up again. Ryan's name flashing across the screen - a dumb picture he took years ago and which he'd normally ignore now made him smile in relief.

"What's up, lad?" Josh asked as soon as he answered the call.

The boy on the other side shuffled something around before answering in the same bored tone. "You free at the moment?" His voice more strained than he'd ever heard before.

"Paige's being going on about this girl she met a few weeks ago and she thinks you'd fit good together -" Ryan was quickly cut off as his girlfriend snatched the phone away from him. Audibly running into another room of the apartment and locking the door so she could talk about it with Josh in peace.

"I said, you'd probably get on really well. She's really sweet and only a few days in Dublin, so if you got nothing else to do..." she trailed off as Ryan began knocking at the door to be let in.

A muffled, "Let me in," was all it took for the phone to be passed again.

"You don’t have to do this, I just had to call you to make her shut up." Wincing as, how Josh assumed, Paige hit him for his comment, Ryan couldn’t help the laugh escaping his lips and something about the action made Josh wince in envy.

Even when, in any other situation, he would immediately deny the offer and go on with his life, company would be nice at the moment. Getting to know someone new after having spent months with the same people without a lot of breaks was what he felt he needed.

"I've got nothing else to do anyways, everything's pretty boring right now actually."

It sounded like Ryan stopped breathing over the phone, or he had hung up, but then it came. The reaction he anticipated. A squeal that was too high pitched for Ryan on a sober night.

Paige, having listened to the conversation with her ear pressed against the phone, was now excitedly grasping for her own phone. Taking Ryan's without a second thought and beginning to talk with Josh again.

"I'm gonna text her, give her your number and you can make out a date," she quickly arranged the starting point of their meet up. "She's into traditional pubs and everything that is cultural in whichever city she is at the moment, but I'd suggest you go somewhere quieter so you can talk. She needs a bit to open up so make sure to keep her calm. The best way to get her talking is honestly music, which shouldn’t be a problem for you to talk about."

And then, a day later, Josh was standing in front of his mirror, looking at his rack of jackets and the streets outside his apartment, judging by the people hurrying past his building which one would be the best to wear.

He texted her the address of the pub he picked out. A local favourite of his. It was kept traditional, the interior as Irish as it could be. They played a mix of new and older Irish music, as well as some of the British and American classics every now and then. It was one of the best he knew, but it wasn’t one for the tourists to find easily. It was easy.

On his way down the streets of Dublin, Josh kept checking his phone every few seconds, wondering whether she would cancel last minute. And part of him wished she would. Not because he wasn’t keen on meeting her, he was, but somehow, it seemed more intimidating now that he knew that she knew his friends and probably also what he did for a job. They weren’t world class known, but they were big enough to sell out an Arena in October. Which meant something.

Standing in front of the pub, he looked at their messages one last time before walking in and to his surprise, she still hadn’t stood him up. She was still on.

"Hey, sorry," a voice said from behind him. Before he processed it properly, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, she stood right in front of him. A sweet smile adorning her lips as she looked up at him with a nervous glance in her eyes. Fingers playing with the bracelets hanging on her wrists. "Are you Josh?"

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, he quickly took his hand out of his jacket pocket to offer it to her. "Yes, that's me." Chuckling awkwardly at his answer, he added, "You wanna go in?"

With a nod she agreed, walking past him as he held the door open. Thanking him for the action she noticed a slight blush creeping up his cheeks.

Stepping inside, the warm atmosphere of the familiar place quickly embraced the two of them. Energetic chatter surrounded each table. The bar was full and the TV showed a game of pool somewhere across the globe.

Finding a table further back where the laughter and holler didn’t over-tune the music, they sat down. Both already aware of how this night could play out.

After ordering their drinks, both taking a Guinness, they sat in silence for a moment. Glancing around the room, he noticed her fingers tapping against the wooden surface of the table in the rhythm of the song playing.

"You like The Stone Roses?" He asked.

"Who doesn't?" She asked, the smile from before reappearing on her lips. "I mean, they have released one of the greatest debut albums of all time."

Leaning forward in interest, he joined in on her excitement for the group. "Totally agree, though they should've left it at that one and not release a second one. They kinda ruined the legacy with 'Second Coming'."

"I think it's good that they tried to make something else at least. Shows they wanted to actually make music instead of just trying their luck."

"I think they were doomed after they released the first one. Nothing could be better than that. There's only a handful of artists who could top their legendary first album."

"Like who?"

"Oasis, The Strokes, Led Zeppelin."

"I think, getting a good first album but building onto that and becoming better is harder than having a smashing first album and a good second one. It means that you actually care about your work and what you do, not just that you don’t want to disappoint the fans," she said, leaning back when she took notice of how minimal space was between them still. "Paige said, that you're also in a band."

The topic he threatened in most conversations came up quicker than he thought. It wasn’t like he didn’t feel proud of what they were doing, it just always went the same. 'You're in a band? Cool. So, how much do you make from it? Are you getting lots of girls? Wait, you're in a band with Eli Hewson? My dad loves U2. Could you introduce me to Bono?' And then it would be over.

"Yeah, we just wrapped up a tour," he confirmed, trying to keep it as short as possible and making it sound as casual as possible.

"How long were you on the road for?"

"A few months. Firstly the UK, then North America and Europe. We're going back to the US soon though."

"That's so cool. You must feel pretty lonely now though." And when those words left her mouth he wasn’t too sure if he still threatened the topic. Because it felt like she understood. She wasn’t just keen on the Rock Star label he apparently had from being in a band with his mates, she was interested in the whole of it all.

"It was a shock when I was in my apartment on my own again, yeah. I'm used to it by now though, the whole overload and extreme detox of socializing." Waving it off like nothing he kinda hoped for her to ask more. He wanted to talk with her about the stuff he had no one else to talk to about.

Though instead he asked, "What do you do with your life? Sarah said, that you travel a lot."

"I try to see as much of the world as I can. Other than that, I write for a music magazine. It also helps with the traveling if it's for certain shows that are nearer by."

"Maybe you'll write about us someday," he joked, turning the glass in between his hands like it would help his face from overheating.

"Maybe I will," she agreed, the possibility unfolding in both their heads. "It would probably be at a festival, something big. I'd have your bands name written on the top of my notes and totally freak out because through the research I would've found out that the guy I was about to interview and probably make uncomfortable with a few questions showed me a really nice pub on one of the less nicer trips I've been on."

"Jesus, what kind of questions do you usually ask?" Josh laughed, the latter of her sentence hitting him too late to comprehend before she answered him.

"Just the usual: how's life going? What about the single or new album? Got anything going on tonight? Where do you live? Can I go home with you because I have no place to stay anymore?" Trying to play off the underlying truth of her jokes, she waved her hand in front of her face while she spoke. Hoping it would make the unsettling feeling in her stomach disappear.

This time he actually caught up with what she was saying before he could bring up another bad joke. "You've got nowhere to stay?"

"It sounds worse than it is, really. If you can tolerate me for long enough - which means until midnight, so only three more hours to go - I will catch the train that gets me back home with no other problem occurring."

After a pause that left her enough time to regret her words, she quickly added, "If you're now thinking about just keeping me company because somehow you have pity towards me, don't. That's worse than sleeping on Ryan's couch."

"His couch is really not the best thing in the world," Josh agreed, thinking back to the time he crashed at his friend's place and woke up with more back pain than the headache that built up through the alcohol of the night before. "But I do really enjoy your presence. I don't think there's gonna be a problem of talking for another two and a half hours."

"Hopefully I didn't ruin your Thursday night then."

"Absolutely not. I really need some people around at the moment."

Watching the evening unfold in uncontrolled laughter and senseless blushing from front row seats by the other, the moment the clock striked midnight, it felt like they'd only been talking for a couple minutes instead of hours. Both of their plates long cleared and the extra fries they'd ordered long gone. With a disappointed look on both their faces they drowned the last bit of both their drinks before splitting the bill. Walking out side by side, they stood at the exit for a moment longer than necessary. Wild laughter still echoing from the inside while they watched the full bar through the window.

"I really liked tonight," she finally said, turning to Josh to find his eyes already focused on her.

"I did too, yeah. Had no problems tolerating you. It was nice," Josh agreed, hands stuffed in his pockets, feet awkwardly bouncing on the dark concrete.

Laughing at his reference from the beginning of their night, she remembered where she had to be in short time. "I still have my stuff at Ryan's place."

And without a question asked, he answered, "I'll walk you." His feet already moving before she could say anything about it.

Walking side by side, their gazes both fixated on the space between their hands that cast shadows under every streetlight they passed, they found them moving closer like magnets with every shadow created. Until, after turning a corner and her awkwardly bumping into his side, her caught her hand in his. Intertwining their fingers like it was second nature.

Ryan's place came into sight sooner than they'd wanted. Luckily the drummer was still up at that hour, opening the door for them and smiling smugly when he saw Josh appear behind the girl.

"Good night, huh?" he tried whispering quietly as they greeted each other. Being left alone for a moment gave them enough time to exchange a few looks, both communicating without drawing too much attention from the girls whispering rather obvious from the living room space.

Paige quietly screaming and laughing every once in a while as she heard how the night went. The last thing before they parted was a rather loudly, "Call me if anything else happens."

Suitcase in hand, she now stood next to Josh again. Saying her fare wells to the couple before finally leaving them to their respective night again.

Closing the door behind the pair, Josh quickly took the suitcase from her, not paying attention to any disagreement she had at the action. Insisting on being able to carry her own stuff but inevitably giving up when she noticed that complaining was no use with this man.

"I already ordered a taxi for us," Josh said, checking his phone as they stood by the curb outside the building. Just missing the smile crinkling on her face at the simple action and the words he used. 'For us.' He wasn't just gonna leave her to her own devices now that he had confirmed to his friend that the night went well for him.

"Thanks," she mumbled, looking down at their shoes the moment he looked at her to hide the blush growing over her cheeks. "I don't think I've ever had a guy being this nice on a first date."

"Had the wrong guys then," Josh shrugged like it was no big deal, though on the inside he was freaking out. Probably more than her.

"I guess so, yes."

Climbing into the taxi that arrived shortly after, she took his hand again as the Dublin City sky passed them by.

"I'm really grateful Ryan got me out of my flat for this night," he said into the quiet of their drive.

Not getting a vocal reply, but rather a squeeze of his hand in return. Her eyes glistening with tears at his words.

Paying the guy a bit extra as soon as they arrived, there were only a few more minutes left until her train would arrive. Standing on the platform face to face like it would help them remember the other better. Not saying a word but both knowing that it wasn't necessary.

"When did you say were you in the US again?" The train arrived, doors opening right in front of them.

"Some time around September."

"If you want to, we could meet there again. I live in New York. I could show you my favourite place to go out then."

"Yes."

Smiling at him one last time with the biggest one he'd seen from her that night, she quickly leaned up. Leaving a kiss and a stain of her lips on his cheek before rushing inside.

#josh jenkinso x fem!reader #josh jenkinson x you #josh jenkinson fic #josh jenkinson x reader #josh jenkinson #inhaler dublin #inhaler band #inhaler #inhaler imagine #inhaler one shot #inhaler fanfic #bobbyskeetz #bobby skeetz #robert keating #ryan mcmahon #eli hewson #elijah hewson

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cecilysass · 3 days ago

Text

One Hand Tied (7/13)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Tuesday evening

Krycek drags Mulder by the elbow through a claustrophobically narrow hallway that winds through a space behind the dungeon rooms. There are faintly glowing red plastic lights lining the floor every now and then, which makes Mulder wonder if it was intended as some kind of emergency exit.

Seems like the prison isn’t an authentic medieval recreation after all.

Turning a corner, Mulder manages to twist around to confirm that Scully is on the same route. She’s back there, stumbling, still gagged, prodded by Krycek’s younger brother. She glances up to make fleeting eye contact with him.

He can’t do much but blink at her in frustration, and Krycek yanks him forward again.

Krycek pushes through another heavy metal door at the end of the hallway, and they emerge into a still, cool night.

By instinct, Mulder lifts his head, and he finds himself looking at a clear sky spattered with stars. He takes a deep breath through his nose. The air is fresh and crisp, a contrast to the stuffy mildew of the cell.

Krycek pulls him forward again, forcing him to take shuffling steps, and he scans his surroundings quickly, trying to get his bearings. They seem to be in a large parking lot outside the dark building, and there is no sign of anyone else around but the four of them. Somewhere in the distance, Mulder thinks he can hear the faint roar of the ocean.

Krycek yanks him towards a white minivan with a security company logo on the side. Sergey, dragging Scully with him, produces keys and opens up the back.

In a flash Mulder thinks through the possibility of trying to take Krycek down. Tricky, with no hands, and I’d have to make sure Scully could also get away, and then we would need to make a run for it, and I’m not sure—

Krycek grabs him by the collar and unceremoniously tosses him into the rear of the van.

Mulder lands painfully on his hip, unable to break his fall with his restrained hands. With his legs he attempts to push down to upright himself.

“Her, too,” Krycek says to his brother.

Sergey lifts Scully and shoves her in, and she lands sprawling over Mulder’s lap. The two of them quickly scramble apart, pushing their legs and scooting to sit facing one another.

The minivan has no rear seats, so there is plenty of space, but Mulder tries to make sure he is directly across from her. Scully’s eyes seem to bore into him, and he wishes he could understand her expression.

“Gags on or off?” Sergey asks his brother.

“Definitely on,” Krycek says adamantly. “They’re trouble when they talk.”

***

For the first fifteen minutes or so, the atmosphere in the minivan is quiet and tense.

Mulder gathers from scraps of overheard conversation that Krycek and Sergey are trying to drive off the grounds without being noticed. They consult one another in urgent, low tones in the front seat. He makes out something about “Fowley’s limo” and something about the distance to the highway. Krycek is driving, and he keeps hissing orders at Sergey.

Pressing his head and bound hands back against the side of the van, Mulder stretches his legs out and tries to catch Scully’s eyes. It becomes almost impossible, though, because her face is obscured in darkness as the vehicle moves. Wherever they are driving, there isn’t much street lighting.

She’s all profile and shadow, her head tilted slightly to the side, her hair falling over her cheek. It looks a little like she is watching the fragmented view of the stars from the back window.

He wishes he could talk to her. There are so many things he wants to talk about. He wants to make sure she’s all right. See what has been happening the past few days. Develop a plan of action.

She doesn’t seem especially eager to check in with him at all.

It worries him. He’s tempted to kick her with his extended leg, but he suspects that wouldn’t go down well.

Mulder slowly exhales through his nose, trying to calm his nerves.

He doesn’t know where they’re being taken or for what purpose, only that Krycek seemed to want to get them out of there fast, before Diana and Spender showed up. Whatever Krycek’s agenda might be, it’s not the same as Diana’s or Spender’s. That could be good or that could be bad.

Right now, it feels bad. For one, Krycek’s agenda seems to include Scully.

Mulder is suddenly hit with a wave of self-recrimination. He should have never trusted Krycek. Yet again he was stupid. He should have never even closed his eyes in front of him. He should have worked harder to keep Scully out of this.

Swallowing hard under his gag, he studies her again: the outline of her shoulders and neck, the rigidity of her posture. He wonders what thoughts are running through her mind right now.

“You see those lights?” Sergey asks sharply in the front seat. “You see that, Lyosha?”

Mulder turns to look towards them with interest. He suspects, from eavesdropping on their conversation for the past few minutes, that they’re worried the car is being tailed.

“Nah, look,” Krycek says. “He’s pulling off.”

There’s a pause, and Sergey sighs. “I don’t see anything else right now.”

“Good,” Krycek says. “So far … we’re good. A clean break.”

“You hear that, baby?” Sergey calls behind him to the back. “Sergey got you out safe.”

Scully physically responds to that, jerking, sniffing angrily and shifting her legs underneath her, bending her knees to draw her feet in.

Even in the dim light Mulder can’t help but notice that she’s showing a lot more thigh than usual. He thinks about the stripper cover story and wonders exactly how it came to that.

Krycek laughs a low laugh. “You didn’t have any trouble? With her, I mean?”

“With Dana?” Sergey sounds cheerful. “Nah man, we got along great.”

“So you got her into the building by saying she was a stripper?”

“Yep,” Sergey says.

“Your idea or hers?”

“My idea,” Sergey says proudly, “but the girl is a natural.”

“Did she end up actually having to strip?” Krycek says, a leer in his voice that makes Mulder clench his fists behind his back.

“Nah,” Sergey says. “At least I don’t think she did. I did have to leave her in a room for a while with all those fucking perverts though. Larry probably tried to grab her ass. Did you have to dance for them, Dana?”

Mulder goes cold all over, and he squirms to try to see her better. She is as still and straight as a statue, looking towards the back of the van and away from Mulder. How much of what Sergey is saying is true? What did she go through? Did men really touch her without her permission?

“I worried she wouldn’t take the bait,” Krycek admits. “I thought she’d be too mad and let Mulder rot.”

“Nah, she’s loyal as fuck.”

“Loyal is one word.” Krycek calls to the back with a sneer. “Did it feel like loyalty to you, Dana? Or did it feel a little pathetic?”

Mulder can hear her inhale sharply. She draws herself up tight into a ball, bending her knees towards her chest, which reveals pale white, smooth skin on the backs of her thighs. She’s still looking away.

“Don’t be disrespectful, bro,” Sergey chastises. “She’s a good girl.”

“She finds out he’s fucking Fowley behind her back, and she still put on those short shorts and came after him,” says Krycek, a chuckle in his voice. “You don’t know her like I do. She’s proud. That must make her crazy.”

Mulder shakes his head back and forth—it isn’t true, that’s not right—but there is no way Scully can see the movement of his head, facing the other way.

“Stop it,” Sergey says, making a tsk sound. “You always gotta be a dick.”

“You got a little crush on her, Seryozha?”

“I��d treat her right,” Sergey mutters. He turns around in his seat to speak to Scully directly and earnestly. “I’d never disrespect you like that, girl.”

“You probably would do better, and you’re a fucking disaster with women,” Krycek says wryly. He twists his head towards the back again. “Couldn’t do worse, huh, Mulder?” Mulder refuses to move or respond in any way. “But all right, all right, enough. Shut up and find some music to play. We should stop talking in front of them and make sure we make it to the Coastal Highway.”

Sergey puts in a CD of some kind of screaming masculine rock music as Mulder watches Scully, who still directs her eyes unwaveringly towards the back of the car.

He hopes he knows her well enough to know she’s not one to let Krycek’s needling get to her. The Scully he knows isn’t like that; she’s squared away, rational.

But something has affected her, something that makes her not want to meet his eye. He’s desperate to communicate with her.

He decides to take a risk and kicks her lightly with his left leg, jostling her slightly.

She doesn’t react. Mulder feels his stomach drop. What could have happened? Why is she not looking at him? How bad is this?

He kicks her again, less gently, so that she has to respond. When she doesn’t move right away, he does it again.

I’m not going to stop, he thinks, trying to psychically imprint his thoughts into her brain. You’re going to have to turn and face me.

She seems to get the message, or at least accept the situation.

She turns, and just as she does, a band of tangerine light from a streetlight falls across her face, and he can see her pale eyes burning back at him. They seem to project something to him, some powerful shove of anger he feels like a physical force. His head jerks back a little.

Worse, there’s also the telltale shine and luster of tears there.

Her breath hitches a little in a sob, and she closes her eyes.

He sits there in unhappy confusion for a beat.

Then he taps her furiously with his foot again, and she opens her eyes with a scowl.

What? he tries to convey with his eyes, with the roundness, with his blank expression. Why are you so upset? Communicate it with me.

She shakes her head fiercely, and she closes her eyes again.

He has the impulse to scoot across the car and lean, gingerly, against her shoulder, encouraging her to lean back. To try to apologize for whatever has hurt her like this, to offer his meager comfort.

But he doesn’t dare.

***

Tuesday, 1 am

Scully wakes up suddenly when the van jerks to a stop, and she loses balance and tips onto her side before she can catch herself. She quickly realizes she’s lying with Mulder’s foot pressed into her relatively bare midriff, so she scrambles to sit up instantly, as best she can without her hands.

The doors in the front slam shut, and she can hear Krycek and Sergey having a conversation outside the van. Bright fluorescent light is flooding in through the windows—they’re at a gas station, maybe? Motel? She can see Mulder’s face across the van. He’s blinking rapidly, like he’s trying to get his bearings, so she can tell he’s waking up, too.

When he sees her looking at him, his brows draw together in a question.

Immediately she jerks her face away. She doesn’t feel like any more charades-style interrogation from Mulder tonight.

A key begins to scrape at the back of the van and the door comes open, revealing Krycek framed by the bright glow of a generic motel parking lot. Scully immediately starts shivering at the blast of cold air.

“We’re stopping for the night, kids,” Krycek says softly.

***

The motel room is pretty much typical Fox Mulder low budget standard fare: dated patterns on the worn-out bedspreads, dubious art on the walls, questionable musty smell. There are two double beds. Krycek leads them to the one farthest away from the door, and handcuffs one of Scully’s and Mulder’s hands behind them to the headboard.

“I bet this is a situation you two have thought about before, huh?” he says with a wink.

Scully refuses to look at him or Mulder. She stares hard at the stupid watercolor on the wall opposite their bed. She forces herself to think practical thoughts: how long did they drive? Where could they possibly be? What is their best means of escape?

There’s a knock on the door and Krycek leaps to his feet, checking through the peephole before letting Sergey in.

“Everybody settled in here?” Sergey says, as Krycek locks the door behind him. He gestures to their captives. “You sure you don’t want them to stay with me? Or split them up? I am happy to watch over Dana.”

“You’re stupid,” Krycek says, shaking his head and sitting down on the other bed to take off his shoes.

Sergey studies Mulder and Scully with a little scowl. “You’re going to make them sleep like that? With their hands cuffed? And gags in their mouth?”

“Soft as fuck,” Krycek says with a chuckle. “This is exactly why they’re staying with me.”

“Come get food from the 24 hour diner with me,” Sergey says to Krycek. “Take off the gags and let them breathe while we’re gone.”

“No,” Krycek says. “Absolutely not. I’m going to stay here to watch them. I want to take a shower anyway.”

“All right,” Sergey says, making a show of being patient. “Then I’ll pick up food, and you let them take off the gags while you’re in the shower.”

Krycek lets out an exasperated sigh. “Seryozha.”

But Sergey is already walking to the bed and untying Scully’s gag, his face too close to hers as he does. He smells like orange TicTacs.

“There,” he says, grinning at her when the gag is free. “I bet you feel better, baby.”

***

At first Scully tries to simply enjoy having her mouth free. The gag had been rubbing unpleasantly, and it feels good to open and close her mouth, to breathe free.

Sergey also adjusted their cuffs so that only their left hands are fastened to the bed frame. She rotates her right shoulder experimentally; it feels better, too.

When Sergey has left and she is certain Krycek is in the shower, she shifts so that she is sitting on the bed with her back to Mulder, her feet hanging off the side, her left hand still connected to the headboard. She scans her surroundings. Before he went into the bathroom, Krycek had unplugged and moved the phone on the bedside table. There’s nothing else of obvious usefulness for escape within reach.

She uses her right hand to subtly rub her bare legs. It’s cold for short shorts. She tries to tug on the knot on her shirt, but it’s too tight for one hand. Behind her, Mulder moves around a little. She can feel the bed dipping and hear him taking deep relieved breaths, like her.

It’s surprising he hasn’t said anything yet. Maybe he’ll just read the room and hold off on conversation.

Of course Mulder isn’t going to do that. “Scully,” he says. “Are you … are you okay?”

She closes her eyes and waits a moment before answering. “No.”

The weight of his hand on her shoulder, gently tugging on her to turn around, surprises her. She does, her expression completely neutral.

“We couldn’t have driven more than five hours at most,” Scully tells him. “That would mean, by my estimation, we could be in Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut, Virginia, or North Carolina.”

“We should talk about a plan of action,” Mulder says, nodding earnestly. “But first I want to—”

“I don’t suppose you could loosen the bar on this headboard,” Scully says, rattling her left wrist and examining the structure of the bed. “That would be useful.”

“I think you’re upset,” Mulder says. “Would you just talk to me for a second? Maybe there’s something I can do to help you…”

“To help me?” Scully whirls to face him.

“If something happened at the house…”

“The only thing that happened at that house was that I had to humiliate myself yet again for a partner who shows me very little respect.”

He flinches, clearly stricken. “Scully.”

“I don’t need your help with anything,” Scully says, mustering every speck of dignity she has. “Except to attempt to get out of our current situation, which you don’t seem particularly interested in.”

He looks shell-shocked. “A partner who shows you very little respect…”

“Mulder,” she demands, “the headboard. Try to loosen the bar. Right now.”

Slowly he turns his head to look at his left wrist. In a burst of sudden violent energy, he shakes it with the full force of his body. He tries to wrench his wrist free with an anguished growl, then lets his head drop.

She stares at his cuffed wrist, now pink and chafed. Mulder is slumped over on his side and Scully is twisted to face him, sitting straight as a board.

“Scully,” Mulder mumbles desperately, looking at her, “please tell me what you meant by that. Tell me what you meant when you said—”

“Just for once,” she says, meeting his eyes with icy disdain, “leave me alone.”

He can’t disguise his raw hurt, which makes her blindingly angry.

“Look, I came after you, didn’t I?” She forces back tears. “I came to try to save you even after you left me behind without so much as a note, without so much as a ‘I am going off to chase a lead with my corrupt but attractive ex-girlfriend.’”

“Scully—”

“I know,” she says. “You had the wool pulled over your eyes. I get it.” Her voice is so cold, so drained of color, that she doesn’t sound like herself. “And I got taken in by Krycek’s brother, someone who looks like he’s in a teen boy band. We both showed questionable judgment.”

He makes a choking sound. “How can I explain this to you?” he says.

“You don’t explain it to me.” She awkwardly shifts her body until she is lying on her side, facing away from him, her hand above her head. “You stay quiet.”

A tiny hitch in his breathing behind her. “Scully—”

“Mulder.” She closes her eyes again. “Quiet. For me.”

He is quiet then. But although he is good at subduing the sound—like someone who has grown up hiding his sorrow—she can tell he’s probably crying.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #xf fanfic #x files #msr #one hand tied

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clumsycapitolunicorn · 2 months ago

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"Clear-headed? Well, that's...good, innit?"

CARLA CONNOR & LISA SWAIN | CORONATION STREET

#coronation street #corrieedit #carla connor #lisa swain #swarla #carla x lisa #wlwedit #tvedit #otpsource #the iconic lisa lip bite strikes again #lisa's head is anything BUT CLEAR #many thoughts...ALL of them carla #RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEIR TAKE AWAY...AND COMPANY #guess they were doing some head clearing of their own after their make up

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phantasmanatic · 6 months ago

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sometimes i feel generous and take surveys for companies i engage with but now every survey where a company is like hey tell us your feedback they’re just asking (in a plethora of different terms) “hey which of these options for AI use do you want us to start adopting?”

and i’m sitting here like none???? none of them???? pay actually people to do these things maybe?????

#i feel like i’m going insane #ppl talk all day about how it shouldn’t be so hard to live #and then those people go and give all the jobs in their company to ai #or we’re supposed to work hard in order to be deemed worthy human beings #and then those people telling us to work hard to prove out worth take away the jobs that according to them we’re supposed to be doing #it’s a catch 22 right in front of everyone’s eyes but no one sees it??#im actually starting to think more conspiratorially abt things which is scary to me #bc im like people cant actually be that blind and stupid #there’s no way billionaires are actually so out of touch that they can’t see this obvious logical fallacy #so it has to be intentional evil #they have to be putting ppl down on purpose with full knowledge and intent #there’s no way to think otherwise at this point ugh #fuck ai #eat the rich

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salsflore · 1 year ago

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i miss my irls and my cat and my house this is so SICKKK what did i ever do to you, december

#vent ->#i am so homesick i havent seen my friends in forever. i had an incredibly good sunday i was looking forward to the next 2 weeks #and then you make me get FUCKING ARRESTED????#and i’m just so irked and i’m so sad why is nothing going right. don’t i deserve good things!!!!!#of course you do this to me when i’m not dreading school anymore and i’m actually enjoying the company of my new friends #so annoying. i’m just so sad i want to go home #i’d be fine with all of that but then you had to take away even my online buddies like what the hellll #if another person tells me to [ tolerate it for a little longer ] i might just explode in front of them #i just feel awfully bitter and alone and sad #💭

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tonycries · 10 months ago

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Haunting You - G.S.

Synopsis. A bIoody trail of vampire attácks, a political marriage, and four suitors you’re forced to choose from - all haunting you. But none as much as the mysterious stranger that makes everything in you scream that you might just be fated for the very thing your kingdom is trying to escape from.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! princess! reader, king! Gojo, vampire AU, he’s actually ÍNSANE, royalty AU, arranged marriages, creampíes, breéding, fated mátes, FÉRAL down bad Gojo, mentions of bIood and kílling, bíting, óral (fem receiving), spítting, marks (a LOT), fíngering, pórn with plot tbh, overstím, ínnapropriate use of powers, jealous! Gojo, slight inspiration from Persephone and Hades, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 15.8k (HUH???)

A/N. Was listening to Haunted by Beyoncé, and my mind went “ooo vampires.” Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

In all your years being carefully primed to take over the throne, there have only been two rules you were raised under:

You live by the crown, and you will die by the crown. No matter what.

To stop the vampires - if your father, the king, fails to contain the bloody trail of killings before his own inevitable death, you have to. Or, more according to those tedious meetings with the table of elders, your husband will have to.

And it seems as if they were well and fully intent on enforcing that last rule as of late - with sharply increasing numbers of attacks on your local towns, the public was growing restless - and so was the royal court.

You weren’t doing any better either - but for a wholly different reason.

Maybe it was paranoia, but these days, you found yourself constantly catching a flash of crystal blue in the corner of your eye. Or hearing a sweet, sweet whisper in your ear deep at night. Maybe even a soft run of fingers down your spine as you were readied for yet another ball - hands much too large to be any of your ladies-in-waiting.

Like something was watching.

Waiting.

“And then I- your highness, are you listening?”

That familiar, grating voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you’re gasping in embarrassment as you turn back to the prattling man in front of you.

“My apologies, Lord Naoya.” you smile tightly, desperate to finish up yet another conversation about his latest cavalry expeditions. Nodding dismissively, “Just tired, please continue with your ah- wonderful tales.”

But of course, when he starts right back from the very beginning to “cover the key points you missed”, your stomach turns when you realize that you won’t be escaping any time soon. Great. Wonderful. Perfect.

God, future suitors your ass. You’d been taught that there’s no such company as “bad company” when you’re an heir to a kingdom, but this has been the fourth royal ball this month - and the biggest one yet. The fourth night you had to listen to another uptight lord show off his sparse battle medals, or another elder snide about how you’d be useless against the dangers of vampires.

You knew it was likely some coping mechanism with the grim deaths this week, but surely the nobles were tired of all this silly dancing? You sure were.

Gauzy dress just a bit too tight, sighs just a bit too loud than was permitted for the princess, you let your gaze wander across the brilliant ballroom. Those intricate gowns, the huge reflective wall, those little pastries you really wish you could walk away from this conversation and-

Blue.

Crystal blue.

“Wait! Did you see-” you startle, and it disappears as fast as it appeared. Your heavy skirts sway as you whirl around to uselessly track that odd burst of color, “Did you see that?”

“I know!” Naoya gasps, making you turn your head in excitement. “The light reflects off my medal so gorgeously! Oh, and this one-”

Dammit.

All through your life, it was this same color that’d been flitting occasionally through your vision, now haunting you almost every day.

You didn’t know where to look to find that familiar blue again - and you didn’t want to stand here waiting to find out. At the very least, your ears have definitely been assaulted with enough talk about horses and how “absolutely enormous” Lord Naoya’s weaponry at the Zenin Estate was.

Compensating, you muse.

The thought helps you plaster on a grin to your face, humming in a saccharine-sweet tone, “It pains me to cut through, my lord.” It really didn’t. “And I’d love to chat more later, but I think I hear my lady-in-waiting calling for me.”

He sputters, breathing out a few profanities under his breath that you catch. An arm raising as if to keep you in place, “Now, wait a minute-”

You’re angling your body expertly to make your dash. Batting your lashes deceivingly innocently, “Oh? What was that?” you cup your ear. “I hear her again- I really do apologize, but feel free to recount your valiant um- fairy tales in a letter.”

“But your father-”

Not waiting to hear the rest of his response, you barely even bother with a polite curtsy before determinedly weaving your way through the stuffy ballroom. Nodding by the nobles greeting you, waving past the throng of young lords that wanted to reel you into more conversation. Your satiny feet taking you anywhere but here - anywhere but where you could feel the still, heavy gaze of something burning into your back as you escaped.

You just prayed that it was only a miffed Naoya and nothing else.

It was around this time that the orchestra struck up another upbeat waltz, and with most people pairing off on the dance floor, barely anyone noticed you tip-toeing out of the ballroom.

“God-” you’re letting out a sigh of relief when you reach the long hallway, rubbing at your throbbing temples. “The next ball they host, m’gonna conveniently disappear, I swear.”

You didn’t care enough for what matchmaking would happen in the future anyway, no matter what the elders may tell you.

Your ballgown swishes with every urgent step through the quiet, dimly-lit corridors. Maybe a bit too quiet.

Strange. You knew that not many nobles would be wandering around the palace during a ball but, surely you can’t be the only one here? Where were the guards?

Just then, a soft winter breeze puffs against your left ear - and you inhale sharply. “Wha- hello?” you shudder, gaze darting around. “Anyone there?” But when only silence greets you, you’re struck with the sudden thought that the windows along the hallway were closed.

Where did the wind come from?

The realization has you taut with goosebumps pricking at your skin, your pace increasing ever-so-slightly. Gulping, you round the corner quickly, making a beeline for the closest haven you could find - the library.

Ducking past the towering stone archway, you hastily slam the door closed. It takes you a few seconds to get used to the darkness inside. With silvery moonlight ribbons filtering in through the curtained windows, you could just barely make out the rows upon rows of books you’d pestered your father into lining. Surrounded by heavyset tables, and your favorite, cushioned armchair. Luxurious, yet completely dwarfed when seating the lone silhouette-

“If this is an attack, then I surely don’t mind.”

“Fuck-” you scream, reflexively grabbing the nearest book spine you could reach to throw in the direction of the shadow. “Show yourself.”

Somehow, it’s as if the book bounces off an invisible forcefield, plopping down unceremoniously onto the velvety carpet right in front of the tall figure.

“And here I thought princesses usually curtseyed.” that deep, honeyed voice cuts right through your heavy breathing. He makes a move to get up - languid, and torturous, as if he enjoyed your agonizing suspense. “Well, maybe I do prefer being pelted by a- hey, that doesn’t mean pick up another book!”

In a split-second, you were brandishing a weighty encyclopedia this time - holding it firmly behind your head in a ready stance to throw once again.

“Show yourself.”

The man sighs, stepping into a channel of low light. It illuminated his stature - taller than you’d thought, towering well above most of the generals in the royal court. Muscled, yet lean - powerful, the thought strikes you. Magnetizing.

Someone from outside the kingdom, you observe, otherwise you’d have remembered that cloudy white hair, strands falling over a strange, black blindfold stretched across the upper half of his face. Leaving you only a set of high cheekbones, and a pert, pretty mouth to admire.

One that curls into such a mischievous smirk of neat pearly whites, and a tiny dimple digging into his cheek. “Now, I’ve never had anyone this eager to see me.” He drops into a courteous bow at the waist, expensive blue fabrics rippling. “From the North kingdom, Satoru, at your service, princess.”

Your hand falters - partially because of the heavy weight, partially because you recognised that gold “G” insignia in the middle of this stranger- Satoru’s uniform. The Gojo family.

That mysterious, estranged kingdom from the Northern part of the country that hadn’t been seen since you were young. You’d heard stories of them - everyone in this vast country had, it was impossible not to. Of their cruel winters and even crueler king, how blood stained every room in his palace. It was rumored he was a monster, and yet, no one ever saw his face - if they did, they never lived to tell the tale.

You knew your father had invited the king to every single ball out of diplomatic obligation, but he’d never attended. Never even bothered to respond.

So who was this?

“No one. Just a lowly attendant accompanying my king, your highness.” you’re jolting when he purrs, a brow quirking at just how he knew what you were thinking. “The question ah- showed on your face, my apologies.”

Finding your voice, “Um, I apologize, too, Satoru-” You note the lack of a last name, “-for the book. I can’t imagine being hit with Yaga’s 1001 Methods to Crochet was a very warm welcome.” And like a little truce, you’re placing down the encyclopedia in your hand. Flashing him your most practiced smile, “I bet you’re hiding out here for the same reasons as me, then.”

That draws out a pretty laugh from him, bubbly and boyish. “Mhm, the ladies just refuse to leave you alone, too?”

“Well, more like the lords there.”

He hums, something that sends a chill down your spine. Words just a little strained, “Not much for bragging about horses?”

And suddenly, you get the urge to snark back, huffing in a way you know your preparational teacher would faint at. “Absolutely not. I’d rather face a vampire than listen to Naoya and the “absolutely enormous” weaponry he uses to-”

“-compensate!”

“-compensate.” the two of you finish at the same time. “I like this place a lot better, it’s quiet- though…” your voice trails off in wonder. “It’s strange, guests aren’t supposed to be allowed in the library unsupervised.” His jaw clenches when your eyes sweep him, “We are supposed to have a few guards here but I don’t know where-”

All of a sudden, it’s like you’re being splashed with cold water. And your words are dying on your tongue when the room drops a few degrees in temperature.

Satoru is unnervingly still, yet he catches onto your slight shiver. “This damned wind, am I right?” And he’s gesturing at the windows with his head. The closed windows. Words tumbling quickly from those pink lips now, “Anyways- why don’t you sit down-” He prowls towards you, slow, confident. Large hands rest at your arms, they’re pale, surprisingly cold - guiding you easily to sit on the unoccupied armchair. “-since m’being nice enough to let you hide out here.”

His words drip with tease, and you still couldn’t see his eyes, but you imagined they’d be twinkling. No one ever dared to speak to you this way - it was always either thinly-veiled condescension or fear towards royalty.

Surprisingly, you didn’t mind.

You roll your eyes, trying to hold back your smile. “Yeah? Well what do I owe you in return for that, Satoru?”

His lips part, as if not expecting this response. Before letting out another sharp cackle at your expense, “Well, why don’t you-” You can’t tear your eyes away from his magnetic figure when Satoru begins unbuttoning his flowing coat to reveal a snow-white shirt underneath. Wrapping it snug around your shoulders in one, fluid motion, a hand of his tilts your head towards him. “-give me your soul?”

The Gojo emblem burns into your back, and Satoru’s deep, almost raspy tone rings in your ears. It sounded like a joke - but looking into his ethereal features, there was no trace of a grin on what you could see of it. And once again, you’re struck by the pure power radiating off of him.

You hoped it was a joke.

“S-soul’s not for sale.” you manage to choke out, trying to make it look like you weren’t breathing in his metallic, peppermint scent. Heady. Pulling the soft fabric tighter around your cold body, “Steep price for a hideout, don’t you think?”

“S’a discount for you, flower.” his chilling breath fans your face. Letting out hushed, “Heh, you should see the prices I charge others.”

You’re reeling, face burning, “Flower?”

“Because you’re shaking like one, see?” The pads of his fingers move from under your chin to trace up, up, up the goosebumps on your exposed arms. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

Hypnotic.

And his steps are soundless as he walks over behind you, the moonlight giving him an angelic halo. Haunting, almost. “And you’re just as gorgeous, like a wild rose. Way too gorgeous for the fuckin’ bastards out there, might I add, princess.”

The nerve!

Heart pounding, you turn around to- call him out for his disrespect? Snap back? Accept the compliment?

You don’t know - and you don’t get to find out, either. Because before your eyes can search for Satoru’s mysterious figure, the door to the library is slamming open with a deafening bang!

“Ah! There you are!” your lady-in-waiting’s relieved voice floods your ears. And she’s barging in with no comment about your sudden stiffness, or that foreign coat around your shoulders. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you, your highness. His majesty is just about to make his speech of the night and needs you there.”

Shit, out of all the scandals.

“I- I can explain.” You’re desperately trying to catch Satoru’s eye to make up an excuse for why you’re alone with a strange man away from the ball, shooting from your seat to look around the library. “We’re just-”

The suddenly empty library.

“Yes yes, I understand that the balls aren’t exactly your favorite pastime.” The oblivious girl is pushing you towards the door, brown eyes narrowed. “But we’ve got to get going now.”

Despite her wrangling you outside, you manage to sneak a few glances backwards, straining to see if he was hiding in the shadows. Only to be met with a now-rumpled armchair and the still, dark bookshelves. As bare as if Satoru never existed - the only proof of his existence being a sad copy of Yaga’s 1001 Methods to Crochet lying on the ground.

And yet, you can’t help but feel a pair of eyes on you.

You feel it all through the short walk back to the ballroom, Nobara’s excited chatter about how finely your all-new coat was made filtering through one ear and out the next. Even when you reach the edge of the dance floor, even when you feel every single other eye in the room on you - you feel it.

“Um, Nobara.” you whisper, discreetly shuffling the coat off your shoulders. “Please take this to my chambers for me.”

The younger girl is positively bursting at the seams, murmuring conspiratorially to you, “So is this where you were? With who- The “G” what does that-”

“Ah! My daughter!” Saved by your father’s booming voice - though, you wouldn’t consider it too much of a salvation when you’re immediately being whisked away to the high platform your father’s throne was seated on. His arms spread wide to greet you in a hug despite stiff etiquette.

“You’re late.” he whispers in your ear.

It’s all you can do to manage out a quiet, “S-Sorry.”

Without another word, he’s addressing the congregation in the middle of the dance ballroom again. More ruler than father at this very moment. “My people, we are gathered here today to dance, to sing, to forget about the horrors happening in our beloved nation.” To large murmurs of agreement he continues, “And despite it all, it’s a reality we must all live with. Me, especially, as your king, have a duty to fulfill.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you wonder where this is all going - your father never brought up vampires during a time like this. Never.

Clearing his throat, “And as we all know, I’m not getting any younger here, unfortunately. Which is why-” He claps his hands once, and three figures - one of which being Naoya, amongst two other nobles you briefly recognized - step forward from the crowd. “Ah- there should be one more- Anyway, after thorough consideration with the table of elders, we have decided to go forward with the betrothal process for my dear daughter here. With the joining of hands will not only be the joining of kingdoms - but the joining of arms, and our people shall prevail as one over the vampires.”

You think you might stop breathing, eyes burning and trained firmly on the ground. This had been a topic of conversation - well, more the elders conversing while you skipped out on every meeting once this discussion was brought up.

You knew this would happen. You knew. But now? At this very moment? All you can do is stand there and listen while he rattles off.

“I know four of the- erm, three of the most eligible young suitors of the land will do their utmost to vie for her heart - and her hand. No easy task I tell you.” Your fists clench, head swimming. “And in a week’s time, we will hold the grand ball to announce my successor.”

Shit - a week. A week.

Somewhere in your line of vision you see - you feel that spark of blue. And you’re raising your head to cheers echoing from all around the room, and still no sign of where those eyes are.

“The next time we meet, will be with the future king and queen!”

Fuck.

---

That night was spent with a few too many tears, and a consoling Nobara at your side all until daybreak. And if you held onto that comforting, peppermint-scented coat through it all, well, you were only glad that you seemed too pitiful for her to question it.

Feeling much more composed and only slightly less bitter about the prospect of being married off to a stuck-up noble you didn’t know, you made your way to breakfast the next morning. An affair usually spent with your father, or in the palace gardens - but this time, surrounded by four suitors under the guise of getting to know you. Sizing each other up, maybe.

“Ah, your highness, good morning!” you sweetly reciprocate the greetings once you’re escorted into the dining room, taking your seat at the very end of the long, mahogany table.

Sighing you take in the scene - on your left was Lord Naoya from last night, the same sharp grins and shifty eyes as you remembered. Seated beside him was the young duke of the Kashimo clan - hair striking, his battle staff laid out next to him on the table. Intimidating.

But nothing in comparison to the hulking man on your right, it seemed as if his uniform was on the verge of bursting. Face sullen, letting his pink locks fall into place - Sukuna, you think you remember.

“Your highness.” Ichiji bows, taking his place supervising the breakfast. “I am afraid our guests from the Northern kingdom will not be able to attend this breakfast today. He sends his deepest apologies. B-but-” His face-paled, looking scarred for life. “-he did have his um- attendant send this note-”

You’re gratefully taking the creamy scrap of paper before the words have even left Ichiji’s mouth, flipping it over to reveal slanted, beautiful calligraphy - Apologies for the sudden departure last night, flower. And I hope you forgive my king for not being here to deter the talk of horses - duty holds both man and beast from freedom. Worry not, we will be seeing your sweet smile again soon. But, for now, give those three bastards a rude gesture from me.

You giggle, tucking away the note. A tiny pang of disappointment hitting you out of nowhere at the lack of that gold “G” emblem anywhere along the table - and more importantly, the white-haired enigma that would follow.

All three men were glowering, yet begrudgingly plowing on with their conversation from before as you settled. Not having the energy to contribute, you listened in.

“-this would never have happened in my estate.”

“Oh buzz off-” Kashimo interrupts Naoya, before throwing a guilty look your way at his crass words. As if you didn’t say worse. “Apologies, your highness. As I was saying-” he turns back to the man. “Don’t think we haven’t heard of those vampire killings in your court that you tried to cover up, your defense isn’t as impenetrable as you want it to seem, Naoya.”

That causes you to raise your brow - and evidently, Sukuna’s as well. “That so? Little fraud, aren’t ya, Zenin?”

The shorter man sputters indignantly, “You- you little- you call me a fraud and yet you’re the only one who didn’t bother to help investigate last night? Got something to hide, oh king-of-curses?”

“Tch, shut up.” That little nickname ticked something off in Sukuna, and his grip on his delicate fork tightens. Smirk intentionally bared to piss off, “It’s just because when the princess marries me, she won’t have to worry about vampires attacking guards in the middle of a ball.”

Wait, what?

“Yeah right, you and what army because I have an absolutely enormous-”

“What do you mean?” Your smooth voice cuts through their bickering, and all three men freeze, gazes snapping to you as if they’d already forgotten you were there. “I didn’t hear about any killings last night.”

If you thought they were tense before then you weren’t prepared for right now - shoulders raising in surrender, for all their blabbering, not a word was uttered after your accusatory question. After a few beats of silence, you scoff in frustration, turning towards your escort, squirming and avoiding your pointed stare at the very corner of the room.

“Ichiji.” The man looked like he could positively give anything to blend into the meticulously hand-painted flowers on the wall. “Ichiji, tell me what happened.”

“P-princess!” he yelps, adjusting his glasses. “I- I’m afraid the king said- please I can’t-”

“Ichiji…”

“P-please don’t banish me-”

You’re on your feet now, cornering the poor man. Mentally, you make a note to give him a raise. Eyes narrowing, “I won’t banish you, but as the future queen I have a right to know, don’t I?”

“...”

“...please?”

And the remaining men had been watching with morbid fascination as you worked your magic. They were already aware that the frail attendant was the weakest link out of them all, but what they certainly did not expect was exactly how weak.

It only took a single bat of your lashes before his pale cheeks colored an almost-concerning pink. Eyes scrunching shut in embarrassment, as the words spilled from his lips. Neverending and slurring with haste as he speaks in one breath, “Th-three of the guards stationed near the outer corridor and library wing were found killed by a vampire last night before you retired for the night, your highness. Their b-bodies were disposed of, and this in combination with all the recent killings was why the king hurried the announcement for your engagement. B-but, his majesty decreed that this never be relayed to you in order to keep you in high spirits after the betrothal eep-!”

“Is- is that so?” you breathe, eyes wide. Taking one last look at the four speechless men, before walking out of the tall doorway. “I seem to have lost my appetite, I will be heading for my chambers now. I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay, my lords.”

Shit shit shit - how did you not notice?

Maybe you walked right past the killer last night and didn’t even realize - who knows what could’ve been hiding in the shadows. How did you not realize? How did you not see?

Just then, a thought strikes you - did Satoru see?

---

It’s one of the whirlwind of questions ringing around in your mind even by the time you hear a steady knock on your door. Jolting you upright from where you splayed out on your plush, silken bed, rows upon rows of books on vampires haphazardly surrounding you.

Peering out of your large window, you notice the hues of pink and red painting the sky, a big red sun just dipping below the horizon - shit, when did you even fall asleep?

“Come in.” you answer, voice scratchy. Rubbing away the sleep in your eyes, you could barely make out the hazy outline of Ichiji standing in your doorway.

“Ah- your highness, I apologize for waking you up.” he bows. “But master Kashimo will be headed out for a late-night hunt at this very moment, and requested your presence shall you wish it. He noticed that you seemed upset at breakfast, and wanted to make it up to you.”

You take a moment to mull over the question - it certainly was rude for you to just ignore your guests all day. And considering you might just be marrying one of them, it wouldn’t kill anyone to actually get to know them.

“Alright.” you reply, voice even. And your answer seems to surprise the other man, “Tell Tsukumo to get my gear ready, I will be down as soon as I change.”

“Y-yes, princess! I will call for Nobara to help you get dressed.”

As the door shut once more behind him, you threw off your heavy blanket- and your coat? Satoru’s coat, which had evidently been draped around your upper half. Heart stuttering, you didn’t remember putting that on before…

Hm, you had to thank Nobara for that later.

---

Hunting with Kashimo was, unexpectedly, dull.

“So…” you drag your words, trying to fill the tense silence. “What is it that we’re actually hunting for-”

“Shhh-” you hear for about the third time this past hour. A brow of yours quirking at the way it seemed like the two of you had been wandering the woods belonging to your kingdom’s estate for hours, and you still didn’t know what it was you were supposed to be looking for.

Alright, perhaps hunting wasn’t the best opportunity to get to know your potential future husband.

“My lord…” you call out warily, already aware of the duke’s affinity for hunting. “Maybe we should rest for a bit, after all, the stars are out already and the moon is so bright.”

He barely even turns to look back at you, “No time. The woods belonging to your kingdom have some of the rarest species of cursed animals in this country. I must make the most of this week in that case, your highness.”

You brighten at the closest shred of conversation in so long. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard! I also hear they-”

“Shh!”

So close.

Letting out a resigned sigh, your eyes glaze over as you watch Kashimo trace his thick fingers over animal tracks on the dirt. Suddenly, gesturing for you to follow him as he sped off in another direction.

It doesn’t take too long for him to stray out of sight. Meanwhile, your legs lag behind in protest - and pettiness, you realize. Grumbling to yourself about how you’d rather have watched paint dry as you’re sure the elders often did. Well, you look at the now-barren pathway, at least now you didn’t have to worry about someone shushing you all the ti-

“AHH!”

And then, all of a sudden - it felt like you were the hunted.

It’s like every bit of blood drains from your body at the blood-curdling scream. Grip tightening on your bow, you’re jolting at the direction it came from - where did Kashimo disappear off to again?

Yet, for how much you knew your kingdom like the back of your hand, it’s so dark. The moon barely peeking through gloomy gray wisps of clouds that you don’t know where exactly you’re running to - just that something was tugging. Reeling you in. No destination in sight until you’re crashing face-first into- a wall?

“Hey, flower, where are ya running off to this late?”

Your hairs raise, something visceral in your body jolting.

Satoru - blindfold and all.

“Wh- Satoru thank God you’re here.” you gasp, looking nervously over his broad shoulders. “I heard a scream, and I’m worried about Kashimo because he went somewhere over there and-” You’re pointing aimlessly in his direction, before clasping a hand around Satoru’s defined bicep. Tugging, “You have to help me, that idiot even insisted on no guards because of disturbing the wildlife and I’m so worried and-”

Before you can react, big strong arms are enveloping you. And you’re suddenly hit with the smell of peppermint and Satoru - something so sickly sweet tinging the air, it makes you droop limply into his firm hold. Your skin burns when he breathes in, deep.

“Shhh shhh, I know I know, princess.” he hums, pulling you deeper against his chest. Until you could feel every dip and curve of his pectorals. “You must’ve been scared, right?” At your hesitant nod, “You did good. You did perfect- in fact. Especially putting up with that pretentious bastard.”

The shocked laugh that drags from your throat has Satoru sighing contentedly, an almost-pained grunt leaving him as he pulls away ever-so-slightly. You felt much the same.

“S’alright, I’m pretty sure it was some animal.” he soothes. He clasps your hands with his, running a damp thumb over your knuckles. “I saw him trudging about disturbing more wildlife over there.”

You breath catches in your chest at just how close Satoru was now, his breath mingling with yours. Pretty plump lips so close - too close. Yet you’re leaning in closer, like you’re drawn by a thread. “Are you sure? Maybe we should-” You gasp, eyes widening when you look down at where your hands were intertwined - red. Or, what you assumed to be red, a saturated, patchy stain on your hands where Satoru’s met yours. He stiffens when he follows your gaze, trying to pull away, but you only hold your grip harder. “Satoru, are you bleeding? Or is this-”

“Not mine.” his voice is hard - and for a second you have to wonder whether this is really the same Satoru. And you swear there’s a little tremor in his words as he explains, “You see, I went out on a little hunt myself, flower.”

Even if Satoru didn’t have his blindfold on, you��re sure his face would’ve been unreadable. That almost-familiar grin of his is strained. Too strained. Yet, his movements are unwavering as he tries to wipe away the blood. “Must’ve forgotten to wipe down, I apologize for sullying your hands, princess.”

“Let me-” you mutter, taking a hold of the coat around your shoulders to wipe away the blood. Uncaring for what you were dirtying at the moment. “I swear you need to take better care of yourself, Satoru. Seriously.”

And you didn’t see them - but somehow you could just feel the amusement dancing in Satoru’s eyes. Raising your confused gaze up to meet his, “What?”

He only flashes you a knowing grin, “S’jus’, you’re wearing my coat, your highness.”

Your movements pause, mouth gaping open while you try to pathetically spout out an excuse. “I- I didn’t mean to get this coat dirty, oh my god. I didn’t think-”

“S’alright.” he inches in even closer. A smirk grazing those sinful lips of his, “I actually prefer it like that, you look like mine.” Taking a deep breath, “You smell like mine.”

And before you can ask about his cryptic message, he’s placing a hand at the back of your waist. A very improper hand that would definitely make the elders gasp in scandal. “We should head back to the palace, it’s getting late. I will escort you, m’sure that born hunter of yours is already halfway back too.”

“Carry me.” you blurt out, your body aching to feel more of him. And before you can retract your words - probably sputter a few apologies, you’re being cradled by a smug Satoru. One hand under your knees, the other supporting you like you’re weightless.

“Heh, a princess carry for a princess.”

“Oh, shut up.” you grumble with embarrassment when he walks forward slowly, your legs swaying in midair. “Want my soul for this as well?”

And you can feel Satoru’s muscles ripple, you can feel the way his breath hitches in his chest ever-so-slightly. Rumbling as he drawls, “More than you’d know.”

“S’that a discount, too? You still didn’t tell me what you charge others.” you quip, remembering the conversation from the night before.

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough, your highness.”

You’re quirking a brow, something hot churning at the pit of your stomach at that ragged tone to his words. “I’m onto you, y’know.” You stare up at his clenched jaw, highlighted in the dim moonlight. His long, pale neck, the crevices of his blindfold. For a moment, you wonder what it would be like if you could peek under. “Onto you and your absurdly high prices, Satoru.”

He breathes out a shuddering, overly-dramatic shudder. “Mhm, flower, I should be worried.” Before looking up at the sky - and you wondered just how well he could see through his blindfold. “The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

That night, you dreamt of long-winded star-gazing and blue, blue eyes.

---

“What do you mean Lord Kashimo has left for his kingdom?” you hiss, feeling a faint stab of offense. Seriously, were you that awful at hunting? “He didn’t make any indication of it last night.”

And if your careless words made Nobara beam with slight embarrassment, you didn’t take note of it - too caught up in what you’d just heard. Enough so that it takes her next words to bring you out of your stupor, “Exactly what I said, your highness. The lordship and his court have all vacated their wing, leaving behind only a letter of forgiveness for ending the festivities early.”

“Still.” you murmur petulantly. Setting aside another one of your books on Vampire: Mates, Murder, and More. “It’s strange, I thought he was here for the hunting sprees, if not for me.” Your tiara weighs heavy on your head as you turn to your young lady-in-waiting. “I would like for Ichiji to catch up to Kashimo’s traveling party, make sure they’re safe, and send them my well wishes.”

Ha! Take that elders - you’d show them you’re fully capable of holding diplomatic relations as a ruler.

“As you wish, princess. Additionally, this-” She’s holding out a small pouch of blue fabric that you’d never seen before. “-was found by your bedside when cleaning and I wished to give it back safely.” Before her polite smile drops into a much more devious smirk, “A gift from one of the suitors, perhaps~?”

You gesture for her to hand it over, the silk casing soft under your touch. Detailed. One-of-a-kind, from what your tedious lessons in the history of fabrics had taught you. You didn’t recognize the patterns sewn onto it as something typical for your kingdom - or any other you’d learned about, really.

“M’not sure.” you whisper. Opening the little purse to reveal a flash of gold - a necklace. Thin and intricate, holding a sapphire pendant in the shape of an eye.

Blue.

A blue you knew too well - the same one that peeked out from every dark corner, that you saw before you slept at night. The one that’s been by your side for years.

Constant. Now coming to haunt you.

Chills run down your spine, and your fingers tremble at how life-like it looked. Burning into your very soul.

“Would you like for me to help you put it on?” Nobara asks, mistaking your shock for difficulty. And yet, you don’t correct her - body moving before your mind to simply nod.

There was only one clasp on the chain - leaving you to worry about the fit. But when it was hooked around your neck, you found that it fit you so perfectly. Like it was tailored to you - and only you. Why was it so perfect?

Why did it capture the exact color you’d been chasing after your whole life - since before you’d even formed memories? Since you were nothing but a surly, teary-eyed little girl that was crying about the dark, babbling about that “blue flash” that no one else ever seemed to see.

“If that will be all, your highness. I will take my leave.” With a nod and a low bow, you’re left all by yourself in your sprawling chambers. Wondering, somewhat in amusement, whether you’d be let off this marriage pact if all the other suitors suddenly left as well. Hell, maybe you could marry whoever got you this necklace since they apparently know you so well.

And you swear - maybe it was the fatigue from trekking last night, maybe it was the stress from the past month - but you swear the wind picks up in its chilly bite. Howling just low enough that it sounds like a deep, taunting cackle.

The necklace doesn’t leave its palace around your neck for the next few days. You still didn’t know who’d gifted it to you - right inside your chambers for god’s sake - and if either of the two suitors remaining knew, they didn’t make any indication of it either.

Three, technically, but it seemed that the more the days passed, the less you saw of the mysterious king of the Northern kingdom.

While Sukuna and Naoya had taken it upon themselves to woo you by joining you in your daily activities, he hadn’t even shown his face to you yet. You were sure your father would’ve had him humiliated and thrown out of the palace already if he wasn’t afraid for his life.

But you didn’t mind, because you saw enough of Satoru to make up for King Gojo and Kashimo. The man seemed well and fully intent to stick by your side, talking yourselves well into the night.

It was on a night like this - sprawled out along the plush armchairs in the very library you’d met, only a few days after Kashimo’s departure - you asked, “Satoru, what color are your eyes?”

That makes him pause in the middle of his extremely animated story about how he’d caught Earl Yaga in the middle of an artistic dance routine. The baritone of his voice cracking so uncharacteristically as he responds with, “Wh-why do you ask, princess?”

“Because.” you roll your eyes. “In four days m’gonna be marrying, and it might just be your king. Yet, I don’t even know his attendant’s eye color - what type of good queen would I be then?”

You knew it was a flimsy excuse, truthfully you just wanted to see Satoru. All of Satoru.

“Not many have wanted to look into my eyes”

You tilt your head, “How come?”

“Well, I can assure you that they aren’t half as alluring as yours.” Satoru pushes back your tiara ever-so-slightly to reveal your face to him better, fingers dancing down to fiddle with your pendant. “You’re a strange one, aren’t ya, flower?” he chuckles, face inching closer to yours - and for a moment, you think he might do something else. “Tell me, how are the wedding preparations going?”

Ah, right - the wedding preparations. Your wedding preparations, to someone else.

Did you want him to do something else?

“W-well-” you pull back from his hypnotic presence. Heart lurching, necklace burning cold into your skin. “Sukuna keeps trying to teach me his very particular diet, I swear I’ve spent much more time with Uraume learning it than with him- they’re a sweetheart though, I can’t complain.” Eyes trying to avoid the intensity of his gaze, “Oh- and Naoya still talks about his weaponry, however, I think his Zenin elders had a word with him because he asked to meet me in the gardens tomorrow evening to actually get to know me for once.”

You brave to take a look at Satoru at the end of his spiel - only to be met with a face you never thought you’d see. His mouth a tight gash, jaw ticking, and you could almost hear the grinding of his teeth.

Terrifying. Magnetic.

Powerful.

The library was always cold - but you fail to suppress a shiver at the sudden grip in the air. “S-Satoru?”

And suddenly, at the mere sound of your voice, everything clicks back to normalcy. You’re staring that familiar grin painted onto his face again, musing slyly, “How much d’you wanna bet he’ll ask about your weaponry instead?”

“Oh, shut up.”

It’s only much, much later at night when you’re forced to retire early - Satoru slipping past the library earlier than usual with groans of his “attendant duties” that you realize - he didn’t answer your question.

---

“P-princess, will you be alright going alone? I don’t think-”

“It’ll be alright, Ichiji, I’m just meeting Lord Naoya.” you wave off the stammering man. Tugging your velvety coat snugly around your body, “Honestly, you act like I haven’t been out in the gardens alone before.”

And it was true, since returning from his little meeting with the Kashimo court, your jumpy attendant seemed even more so - and you didn’t even know that was even impossible. Always peeking cautiously behind corners of the winding hallways, always hovering close by you even when his duty didn’t require it.

He’d told you - in that quiet, shaky voice of his - that Kashimo was well, and headed straight for his kingdom to fulfill emergency duties. To which you’d accepted - you understood the gravity of responsibility, after all.

“But- but, your highness!” he gasps, pulling you out of your little reverie. “I don’t think- with the way he-”

A spine-chilling breeze rustles the nearby tree, sending shivers down your spine. Howling in your ears. You squint your eyes against the cold, “Sorry, what was that, Ichiji?”

But the man in front doesn’t speak - fuck, you didn’t even know if he was breathing. Face a sickly pallor, mouth gaping open and shut like he wanted to say something - he needed to say something. Yet, he wasn’t even looking at you, wide eyes locked on something over your shoulder.

“Are you-” Your body holds you back, feeling two burning eyes on you - and you have to force yourself to look over your shoulder. Only to see- nothing? “-are you alright?”

Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, you’re turning back to face your attendant - only to see him sprinting back down the entrance as fast as his knobbly legs could carry him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then!” you call, hoping it echoed far enough to be heard.

Strange.

It’s all you can think about for the next half an hour you’re seated on that dainty, painted bench in the middle of the palace gardens, waiting for your potential future husband. And for the next hour. And the next.

It’s by the time the sun has fully set, when twinkling stars are dotting the night sky that you settle with the conclusion that yes, it seems that Naoya has already made his decision about the marriage. And no it doesn’t end with a wedding.

“Dammit.” you spit, running a hand through the hair you had Nobara fuss about with. “S’not like I wanted to marry you anyway, bastard.”

And you didn’t - you really didn’t. Whenever you dared to imagine walking down that decorated aisle, Naoya was the last person you saw.

But seated alone and abandoned, trying to cover yourself from the biting chill of the night, you never felt more like an unworthy heir. Fuck, if no one wanted to marry you how would you even dare to think of taking over the throne?

Maybe you should just-

“We have got to stop meeting like this, flower. S’like you’re haunting me.”

“Satoru!” you gasp, throwing yourself into his embrace. You’re reaching up to loop two arms around his neck, “Oh, you wouldn’t believe it. That asshole had the audacity to stand me up.” Pulling back so your face ghosts his, “I got all dolled up just for him to leave me like this. As if I wanted to be with him, I was just trying to be a good- a good h-host and-”

Suddenly, you’re struck with the realization of how close you two actually are. You could count every crease on his blindfold, pinpoint exactly where every dimple at the corner of his grin was.

Your hands slide their way down to his sculpted chest, pushing slightly. “-I apologize, this was forward of me.”

But his arms only tighten around your waist - when did they even get there? Large and steady, pulling you back to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, your racing pulse. “Stay.” he groans, and he sounds slightly out-of-breath, heavy exhales tickling your ear.

“We can’t be caught like this, Satoru.” you breathe, but that familiar little tug has you shuffling closer. Breathing in that familiar metallic sweet scent you’ve grown to love, “I- I’m getting-” Bile creeps up at the back of your throat, and you laugh bitterly. “I think I’m getting married in three days, y’know? To Lord Sukuna, I assume, since two of my suitors ah- ran away and the other refuses to even see my face.”

His thick fingers dig deeper into the extravagant corset at your waist, “I know. Fuck- don’t I know.”

It’s a steady beat of silence, so still. So tense you could hear every stuttering heartbeat of yours, and strangely enough, you had the nagging feeling that he could, too.

“You could just marry me.” Satoru’s abrupt confession breaks the silence, and you find yourself sinking deeper into his soft coat. Wrapping yourself up in his heady presence. “Be my queen. You wouldn’t have to worry about duties or elders or- or vampires.”

And the night was still. So still.

Despite the way your heart races, eyes blinking up in disbelief, you find it in yourself to deadpan, “F-funny. Do I have to give you my soul for that as well?” Oh, some stupid little part of you think you might just have.

And you’d expected Satoru to crack a laugh, to give you a teasing smile while he carried on that little inside joke between the two of you. You’d expected him to no sooner shove you off and talk about it being late. Hell, a part of you even expected this to be some elaborate set-up from the elders to get you caught in such a compromising position with the no-longer stranger from the Northern kingdom.

But, no. It’s anything but that - everything but that.

Because the taller man only rasps, nose-to-nose now, “No.” Sounding like his sanity was slipping away from him with every breath, fingers making their dance down to twirl your sapphire pendant between them. “I’d give you mine.”

You can feel his breath fanning your cheeks, head dipping slowly - so torturously slowly. As if he was giving you ample opportunity to run away if you wanted to. But you don’t think you could move for the life of you.

Instead, you’re dipping closer, gliding the tip of your thumb over his defined cheekbone. Mere millimeters away - just one push. Another hand of yours steadies at the back of his neck, feeling those snowing locks under your fingers.

One.

Your thumb dips just under the seam of his blindfold - unwillingly.

“Your highness.” Satoru’s voice is cold, his fingers lacing with your own even colder. Something eerie. And even with the delicate touch you could feel the power thrumming through Satoru’s body. “This is for you.”

You can only stand there in shocked silence as the moment shatters, and he produces a wild rose as if out of thin air. “Consider it from King Gojo.” Touch searing against yours when he hands it to you, you feel drunk off of him “Perhaps the night is late now.”

Right. The king.

When you’re walking back in the directions of the palace’s warm lights, you don’t think you’ve ever felt safer. Strangely enough.

“Satoru.”

“Yes?”

“I’m onto you.”

“You’re onto me.” he’s tucking the bloom over your ear. Before stepping back into the inky pool of shadows beside the entrance you came from. “Sweet dreams, flower.”

That night, when you tuck yourself into bed, you swear you hear a faint whisper of those same three words lulling you to sleep. Over and over.

Sweet.

Dreams.

Flower.

---

Floral preservation was one of the lessons you’d been forced to attend growing up in the palace, but even you didn’t know how that wild rose Satoru gifted you hadn’t wilted yet.

It remained as fresh and prim as the night it was picked, bluish pink petals never fading. You didn’t keep it safely in a bowl of water amongst the other plants and flowers in your bedroom. Somehow, never out of place, always tucked safely behind your ear in the days that followed. Perhaps it was improper to keep it on you even when you were being fitted into an engagement gown to be promised off to another man. But Satoru didn’t complain, and you didn’t either.

With Kashimo departing for his kingdom early, and Naoya apparently following in his footsteps due to “irrevocable differences”, it was now almost confirmed that the future king was to be Lord Sukuna. Not like King Gojo had made any effort to reach out - and Satoru hadn’t mentioned it either.

Satoru.

Things were…the same after that night, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

It must be done, you sigh, wincing at the pinch of the flowing white dress being suited onto you by the bustling tailor. At least it could be worse, even if you’d rather…

“Honestly, young people these days.” Yaga speaks up from where he was fussing with the silken hem of your gown for tomorrow. “I heard of that Naoya brat leaving out of nowhere, princess. My condolences.”

“Ah-” you startle, not expecting to be addressed. “It’s not your fault, we likely didn’t mesh all that well. I just wish he left a note- Honestly, I’m lucky to even have a suitor left after these six days.”

Another grimace leaves you when you feel another tweak of pins pricking at your skin. The other man hums lowly, “Don’t say that, anyone would be lucky to have you. Anyway-” He gets up from his position kneeling, towering over you to admire his own work. “How do you like it, your highness?”

You let out a gasp when you face the floor-length mirror, “Oh my god, it’s perfect.” The dress was regal, decadent. With flowing tresses resembling a petals, and gilded gold and blue weaved into the fabric.

Blue.

“I fashioned it after that necklace and flower of yours.” You unwittingly reach for that familiar pendant, “I ah- forgive the assumption, but I assumed you would be wearing them both at the betrothal ceremony tomorrow, princess?”

Taking another long look in the mirror, you nod, “Yeah. I will.”

---

“I knew it.” he laughs shrilly. “I fuckin’ knew there was something wrong with you. As soon as I saw you butterin’ the princess up in the library, I knew you were a fuckin’ freak.”

The other man only responds with ominous silence, letting labored breathing cut through the bone-chilling air. Clearly unsatisfied, “What? Not gonna talk now? Aren’t ya just in it for the crown like me? Have the bitch, just give me the crown.” Goading now, “I bet you’re not even an attendant are ya- I know what you are-”

His words are cut off with another choked-up gasp, followed shortly by a strained growl. “I know- what you are-”

Red stains the marble floor - a problem for later.

“I know, King Gojo.” And it’s the last thing he sees. “And you’ll reap what you sow, she’ll never love you.”

Blue.

“You’ve haunted me too long, flower.”

“Satoru–!” you scream, throwing your soft bed sheets off your body.

It was burning - you were burning, gasping for the cold lungfuls of air that filled your empty bedroom. Mind bleary, distantly, you register that it’s around daybreak - tiny fingers of golden sunlight just barely dipping through your window - your open window.

Hastily, you’re tumbling out of bed to slam it shut. Heart still pounding when you take in the mess of flower petals from those congratulatory bouquets you’d gotten. Ruined. Only the stems left in the vases after that sudden, chilling wind.

“What-” Your eyes dart around to look over your dresser, where you always kept Satoru’s wild rose. And a shiver creeps down your spine when you realize it lay snug tucked behind your ear, safe and sound. Exactly where you didn’t keep it. “-happened?”

You couldn’t settle back into bed after that - couldn’t even think about it. So you find yourself reaching for your wardrobe of dresses, running your fingers along the intricate gown made for your engagement ball tonight. Your engagement to Sukuna.

If this was the nightmare, and tonight was to be the dream - why did your stomach turn so?

---

It was difficult convincing Nobara to let you keep the wild rose on after getting ready.

“But that’s so last season.” she bemoans. “No offense, your highness, but even old lady Ogami wouldn’t be caught dead wearing flowers in her hair these days.”

You’re giving her your best puppy dog eyes, “Please, Nobara?”

“No.”

“I’ll let you raid my exclusive wardrobe the next time you want to play dress-up?”

“...”

Which was how you found yourself shoved into a dress that was way too gorgeously palatial, barely even having the time to admire the lush gold and blue decorations around the sparkling ballroom before you were being ushered next to your father on his throne.

You fiddle with your ringed fingers, feeling more and more like a lamb sent to slaughter - a very opulent slaughter - with each step.

“I am so proud of you for this week, and you look absolutely divine, my love.” your father whispers into your ear once you’re up on the crushed velvet platform. “I hear from Ichiji that you know, I apologize we couldn’t go through with this marriage under better circumstances.”

You shake your head, giving him a calm smile - you’d already forgiven him, sometimes there was duty far greater than any man.

“My people, as promised, we are gathered once more to celebrate the joining of two hands - and two kingdoms.” The king projects his voice out to the eager crowd, “Together, these two young loves will face their duty. They will face the dangers. They will face our future.”

The thought had you clenching your fist into the soft fabric of your gown, looking down at your feet in a bow.

“As I did with my father before me - God rest his soul - the future king and queen will oversee their responsibilities to protect our people from those treacherous vampires. The elders-” he stops short, eyes widening at the empty seats on the balcony - where the table of elders always sat. Abandoned. Chilling. “...have decreed, in accordance with our princess, to introduce my daughter to you all as our future queen-”

Your father gestures a hand your way, and you step forwards to cheers, still not daring to look up. And all you could see were two, gold-toed boots stepping into your field of vision.

“-and our future king!”

“Look up, flower, this is the best part.”

Gasping, you raise your head - Satoru.

“Y-you?”

He smiles that pearly smile at you, one that makes your knees weaken, “Me.” Before leaning down conspiratorially, “Better get moving now, the king just declared that the big bad Northern king and the precious princess will have their first dance as a couple.”

It felt like you were moving through a dream as you slip your hand into his, flinching at the feeling of his cold lips meeting the back of your hand.

The crowd of whispering nobles part to make a path for the two of you, and Satoru is so gentle when he leads you into the middle of the dance floor. Weightless on his feet, swiftly placing a burning hand on your waist - just below where the elders would consider proper.

The other intertwining with yours, you barely even register the slow, romantic tune playing from the orchestra.

“I bet you have questions.” he whispers, breath fanning your cheeks.

You take in his tall figure, the rows of medals, gleaming only half as bright as the smile that makes its way onto your face. Hissing, “That doesn’t cover the half of it, King Gojo.”

“I-I apologize. I can’t apologize enough but-”

“Though, I did have a nagging feeling about the fifth time you talked yourself up.” you smirk.

Satoru throws his head back in a loud cackle, echoing through the hushed crowds - no doubt gossiping about this being the Northern king, that fearful beast that ruled over the Gojo family. “I know.” His hand comes up momentarily to brush over your sapphire necklace, “And I’ll spend our entire lives making it up to you, flower.”

Goosebumps dance down your arm, your spine, right down to where Satoru held a firm grip on your hip. You two waltz around the edge of the dance floor, perfectly in time. Through the crowd of grumbling lords, the orchestra, past the table of foods.

“And exactly how long would the rest of our lives be, Satoru?”

Slowing right in front of that huge, reflective wall.

You couldn’t see his eyes, but his biting gaze was all you could feel.

Lingering on the blue pendant nestled at your chest, the everlasting wild rose tucked behind your ear, the mirror to your right - where the twin image of you shone. Powerful, gorgeous, everything that a monster like him could never have because he wasn’t standing there right next to you. His kind never could.

In the back of your mind, you registered collective gasps sounding all around you - the rest of the ball attendees that’d also taken note of the lack of Satoru’s reflection. But your eyes stay locked on him.

A thumb hooks under his blindfold, and he grimaces. “You really were onto me, huh, flower?”

Tugging.

Your fingers tighten around his, unable to let the most fearsome of creatures escape from your grasp. “You must’ve been onto me, too, Satoru.”

Pulling.

All you see is a flash of a regal nose bridge, and the flutter of thick white lashes - before every single chandelier in the ballroom snuffs out at once. Cloaking the room in unnatural darkness, it sends every single knight and noble into a frenzy.

And then, he opens his eyes.

“IT’S HIM-”

“A body! A BODY FOUND IN THE ROYAL GUEST SUITE–

“VAMPIRE! STAY BACK-“

Oh, it’s blue.

That crystal blue.

And then it’s black.

---

SLAM!

“If you must kill me.” Satoru’s voice sounds from somewhere above you. You blink away the darkness, feeling your bleary gaze try and adjust to that unfamiliar high ceiling, the outlines of hauntingly beautiful paintings on it. His ragged breaths cut through your thoughts once more, hastily folding your hand to grip your pendant. “If you must kill me, then I prefer you do it with your own hands, princess.”

You can’t tell whose hand is trembling more - yours or his. Distantly, you realize you’re being pushed up against a luxuriously padded wall, one you’d never seen before in your life.

Where were you?

“The Gojo palace- Please-” he reads your mind, voice breaking at the end of his plea. Gasping - and you can discern two elongated teeth at his canines. Fangs, you realize with a shiver. “You may leave if you want to, you may kill me for what I’ve done. My life is in your hands.”

“Satoru.” you soothe in a hushed voice, despite the way your head was reeling. The Gojo palace? “I won’t kill you.”

“But-”

“Satoru, what does this necklace mean?” You beg, and at this point, you’re not surprised that the necklace is from him - because it was an exact replica of the two burning eyes staring back at you. The only source of light right now, glowing a blue you’d finally found after a lifetime. “Why did you-” you gulp, heart lurching. “Why did you hand me your…life?”

Soft lips play right over your rapid pulse, murmuring into your skin, “S’my soul.” A long, pale index of his plays with the pendant. “The only part of my soul that’s living, gilded into a necklace to be kept in the safest place I know. You.”

“But-” you cry out, trying to get another look at his eyes - but your fiancé only kisses deeper at your neck. Nibbling at the thundering beat just below. “But why did you give it to me?”

“Who else would I give it to, if not for my mate?”

Mates - there were a thousand and one books and official documents detailing everything from a vampire’s killing pattern to the aphrodisiac toxins found in their blood. But the research on a vampire’s mate was far and few between.

Perhaps owing to the lack of willing mates that can come out without persecution, or perhaps due to the vampires’ intense rumored mating rituals. But it didn’t go without its own gossip, you were no stranger to the ladies of the court tittering about how morbidly “romantic” it was that mates were akin to soulmates - how it was an invisible string connecting two people to share a life, a soul.

A vampire’s one and only mate.

Satoru was pinning you harder to the wall now, his pink tongue darting out to lick over your pulse. The fingers holding onto the necklace were now tilting your chin up at him, “Speak to me, flower.”

“I’m your mate?” you whimper, your lips ghosting over his. Already knowing the answer, but fuck you needed to hear it from him. “What does that mean exactly?”

He lets out a pained grunt, pressing his forehead gently against yours. “It means you’re the other half of my soul. My only one, I was born for you.” Pressing a chaste peck on there - and you swear you could feel the nip of two sharp canines against your skin. “The one I’ll fight heaven and hell for, until the very last beat of my cold, dead heart.” Your fingers curl at his shoulders when his mouth moves to the shell of your ear. “The one I’ll kill for, take out every measly scum that thinks they can get with my mate.”

He huffs out a burst of cold laughter when your breath hitches, probably reading over the thoughts running through your mind - Satoru killed them. The guards, Kashimo, Naoya- fuck, maybe even Sukuna. He killed them. He killed them. He killed them. He killed them.

You shiver, “A-and all the wind? The whispers? I thought it was just you these past week b-but- All my life, that was you?”

You know. You knew.

Another kiss - this time to the corner of your eye, and Satoru licks a long, content stripe up the big fat tears unwillingly welling up behind your eyes. He groans at the salty taste of you, taking in a long, drawn-out breath. “Yes.”

All it takes is that single word for your entire body to collapse, thankfully onto an awaiting Satoru. He holds your entire body weight with one hand around your waist, the other coming up to swipe his thumb under those tears rolling down your cheeks now.

He kisses your cheek, “All your life.” The corner of your lips, “And all of mine.”

Run away run away run away run away-

But you can’t - you don’t want to.

Your lips wobble when he nuzzles down your face, leaving a trail of hot kisses with his cold, cold mouth. “As soon as I learned to use my powers - was just a brat you see - I just had to see my mate. To smell her scent.” He’s inhaling deeply again, hands groping over your engagement gown. “Lo and behold, there was you. A cute lil’ princess around my age, tuckered out and fast asleep.” Lingering at your jaw, the hand tight around your waist pulls you painfully closer. Satoru’s knee wedging itself between your trembling thighs, “Imagine my surprise when she took one look at me and cried. Scared me enough to teleport outta there as soon as you opened that smart mouth, flower.”

And the thought of Satoru - tiny and determined - teleporting halfway across the land only to be yelled at by you has you huffing out a shock of laughter.

“So when I heard through the grapevine about your potential engagement, fuck- I couldn’t have ran out of this palace faster. Was so excited I fuckin’ forgot to teleport, too. Even if you were afraid of the ‘cruel Northern king.’”

Fuck - that’s right. He must’ve heard your thoughts that time you met him in the library.

Satoru’s tone drops to a low simper, so close now that you could feel every slight curve of his grin. Every twitch of his fingers sweeping up and down your exposed skin, feeling the delicious thrum of your veins. He could bite you right now - easily. “And luckily, as I grew up, so did my ability to blend in with the darkness.” Eyes boring into yours, something so vulnerable in them now. “But you found me, you always did.”

“Satoru.” you angle your head upwards. “Kiss me.”

And how could he ever deny you?

You wince at the slight pinch of Satoru’s teeth - his fangs - as he crashes his lips into yours in a greedy kiss. Sliding his tongue over to taste those candied lips he’s been dreaming of for years.

“Fuck-” he breathes out through his nose, jaw sagging open further to kiss you deeper. “Fuck, princess.”

Strong arms pin you harder against the wall, and you’re blindly reaching out to reciprocate even a fraction of Satoru’s neediness. Just dragging your hips up and down his muscled thighs. Sinful.

Shit, it was so endearing to him seeing you struggle to touch him this way. And with a flick of a wrist, the candle chandeliers hung high above your heads are lighting up at once. “S’that better, flower?”

It takes every bit of will in you to manage to pull away, yet the thought of seeing Satoru - of really seeing Satoru is what spurs you to break the kiss. Delicate strings of saturated spit snapping in the non-existent air between you two, you take a long look at your new husband.

Fuck, he was so pretty.

You always knew he was.

But even with his face tilted downwards, within the soft light tinting those snowy strands a sunset yellow - you could make out the pretty pink flush all the way from his glossy, ravaged lips, up, up, up to his delicate cheeks - he looked like the last thing from a monster.

“No you’re pretty.” he hums, and you’re still not used to him reading your mind. Head nodding downwards, “Just look, grinding on my thigh like such a slut.”

What met you was a dark pool of slick saturating his trousers, just peeking out over the hem of your dress. It makes you give another lingering, experimental grind.

“Satoru—” you’re letting out a honeyed drag of his name, reveling in the way it makes him swallow heavily. “You can hear my thoughts, right?” Look at me.

Slowly - but surely - familiar blue meets yours. Half-lidded, pupils blown, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have said there were tiny sparks of lightning at the corners of his long white lashes.

You’ve been haunting me my whole life, Toru.

And it was an accident - it really was, your freshly kissed brain too hazy to slur out Satoru’s full name. But the impromptu little nickname has him dragging forwards like he was magnetized.

A low growl escaping when he’s kissing you again. And again. And again and again and-

“Say it-” Two hands are tugging at those tedious ribbons tying your decadent gown together. Pulling. “Say it again f’me.” Ripping.

The more his lips are assaulting yours, the more the dress slips further and further down your shoulders. Tattered. The soft satin leaving goosebumps down your spine as it reveals your neckline - all that skin for him to ruin. To mark.

“Oh-” you’re squealing when one of Satoru’s fangs prick a bit too hard at your lip. Feeling a hot flow of crimson bleed out, the feeling has you so weak. So drunk. “Quite eager, aren’t ya?”

“You have no idea.” he groans again. Soft tongue moving from swirling around your own to lazily pool your blood on it. And you can’t imagine what about the metallic taste would be so euphoric, but he’s letting out his loudest drag of your name yet. Eyes rolling to the back of his head like he’s just tasted a personal slice of heaven. “Fuck- fuck you have no idea.”

You moan into the kiss when he bites down again on your already-bruised lower lip, “I’ve always wanted to do this-” Slow, slow hands kneading up your waist, at a dizzying tempo matching his mouth down your jaw, your neck. Hips bucking, you feel the outline of something so hard between his legs. “-to kiss you. To-” Tethering on the sensitive area of your pulse, “-bite.”

In a split-second, you’re sinking down into plush silk sheets, swallowing you whole in a king-sized bed you didn’t even realize was in the room before.

“S-Satoru, did you teleport us again?” you gasp, eyes adjusting to the intricate paintings on the ceiling that you hadn’t gotten to admire before. Of white-haired youths and roses, of cold, dark palaces and- and you.

You - when you were younger, sleeping peacefully while a little boy watches intrigued from the corner. You - passed out in the library after a long night of reading, two pale hands wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. You - your brows furrowed, head cocked while you pushed past nobles to search for that flash of his blue. You, you, you.

You.

“I can hear the gears in that pretty head turning.” Satoru grins, still kissing you in a languid graze of lips. “And as much as I love it when you hah- admire my lonely paintings, I’d rather you pay attention to-” A low groan curdles at the back of his throat when he’s grinding his massive clothed erection against the syrupy spot at your core. “-me.”

There’s a dark little huff of laughter and with one last bite at the side of your neck, Satoru’s unapologetically tearing right through the middle of your gown.

And you know it’s made with the finest fabrics the country has to offer, you know that no normal man should be able to even rip a tiny shred through your dress - but Satoru is no ordinary man.

Your spike of disappointment is quickly overshadowed by cold breath hovering over your exposed tits. “Oh, so perfect f’me.” he’s groaning, deep and primal. Biting down on your hardened nipple, “Ya think those uptight elders your court has- ah, had would appreciate me desecrating their precious princess before marriage?”

Through gasps, you peek down at his wicked tongue, swirling around the sensitive spots of your areola. “Who- who gives a shit.”

“So feisty.” The peaks of your tits are left coated in him as Satoru pulls away. “So addictive.” Pinching your soft flesh between his teeth - just hard enough that you worry he’s out to draw blood again. “So- so-”

Words are failing Satoru’s sharp mouth as he kisses his way down your body. The valley of your chest, your stomach, your hips.

Down, down, down-

“Fuck, Satoru-” you’re hissing when he easily pulls the pathetic remains of your dress off and onto the floor. The rest of your inner skirts easily following afterwards. “Are you gonna…”

“M’afraid not.” he licks sloppy circles at the skin of your thighs. Tasting, nipping, leaving little marks with his fangs for later. Sloppily soothing his tongue over the tiny droplets of blood beading from the bites, he murmurs stubbornly, “Not until you address me correctly.”

Hesitantly, you reach out a limp hand to thread through his dampening white tresses. Tugging softly to lock those devouring blue eyes with yours, “Please, Toru?”

You get absolutely no warning when he kisses right through that flimsy excuse of your drenched panties to slide his tongue up and down your sopping wet slit. Up and down up and down up and-

“Sh-shit, Toru-” you moan when he’s just dipping the very tip barely past your puffy folds. The fabric of your underwear still sticking to you, “Stop being such a tease, goddammit ngh-”

“Why?” Of course, he toys with your patience even now, addicted to those needy whines falling from your lips. “I jus’ wanna play with my princess’s pretty pussy. What am I getting out of it?”

You smirk, not even having to move your pretty mouth to know you had him in the palm of your hand already. I’d be your mate for life.

It’s all you can do to watch with satisfaction as the great Gojo Satoru gasps - gasps. Slick-glossed lips falling into a soft oh! Hazy eyes widening almost-comically, and at full heady attention while he takes a few seconds to mull over your words.

RIP!

In an instant, your soaked underwear is ripped clean off to bare your dripping cunt for him, wrapped tightly around Satoru’s fingers and disappearing down below to where your imagination couldn’t handle.

“Oh, such a pretty pussy.” he coos, thumbing apart your puffy folds to admire your lewdly winking cunt. Glistening and so so needy, you jolt when he bullies two long fingers past your sloppy entrance. With your greedy hole swallowing every slender inch of Satoru’s fingers easily, “So needy too. This all f’me?”

As if to prove his point, his pink lips wrap around your throbbing clit, grinding his tongue over the ravaged tip. The harsh texture of his tastebuds rolling over every inch of you he could reach.

“Y-yes-” you squeal, hips bucking down mindlessly to try and match his relentless tempo. “S’only for you.”

“Tha’s what I love to hear-” Satoru’s cheeks hollow when he sucks on your sensitive little nub - hard. “Sweeter than I even imagined, shit-”

Every pump of his merciless fingers in and out of your cunt drags along your gummy walls. Deftly curling to prey at those hidden sweet spots of yours he just knew would wrench out such throaty moans from you - and fuck, Satoru thinks- no, he knows that the sound is is favorite song.

“You’re makin’ me- hah making me fall in love all over again.” he gruffs out into your cunt. The pads of his fingers pressing into the cushiony ends of your pussy. “Because look how messy you are- how loud.”

You didn’t know if he had mind-control powers on top of mind-reading, because it’s as if you’re on auto-pilot when your lolling head is whirling down to look at the absolute sin made of you below. Satoru - running his mouth a mile a minute to send white-hot vibrations along your clit. His milky fingers buried knuckle-deep to stretch out your poor cunt. Your sweet sweet juices drooling all over them in such an obscene sheen down his palm, his wrist.

He whines, “Makin’ me wanna-” You jolt when he’s biting down so dangerously around your clit. “Wanna-”

Satoru doesn’t end up finishing his sentence - and he doesn’t have to.

Because he’s pausing his make-out with your clit to spit once. Twice. A thick thumb swiping at the intentional splatter of saliva marking your skin, before surging forwards even deeper - you didn’t even think that was possible. But Satoru has the tip of his nose rubbing methodical circles against your clit, jaw grinding at the base of your pussy, tongue flattening out your pussy lips.

Messy. Harsh.

“Oh- oh my god, Toru-” you’re keening at the feeling of his wet muscle trying to squeeze in past the fingers still continuing their assault on your entrance. “It- it won’t fit–”

“Shhh shhh, s’okay, princess.” he hushes, letting another round glob of spit wet your clingy pussy. “You can take it. You will - otherwise how are you gonna take your husband, hm?”

That little comment has connotations that make your plushy walls clamp down vice-like around his fingers - his tongue. And you’re angling your head just right, blinking away the lustful haze in your eyes to spy down at the rapid, jerky movements of his other hand. Devouring gaze dropping down to-

Oh.

Oh fuck.

It was difficult to even look at the sight below - your panties, soaked and completely see-through with slick and precum, wrapped prettily around what you could make out to be Satoru’s aching cock. Standing proud, twitching wildly with every drag of his fist up and down his glistening length.

“Fuck-” he groans, taking the opportunity to devilishly slip his tongue past your feeble entrance. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- y’like this, huh?” Drawled out little praises now muffled as he fucks you on his tongue the way he wished he could with his cock. In and out in and out in and out. Pulling back to eye your gaping hole, “I can feel y’getting wetter for me is it because-” Before surging back forwards, as if he’s addicted. “Because-” Again.“Fuck don’t clench around me that way. Was hard enough trying not to fuck you stupid right there in the middle of the ballroom.”

You whine, tears flowing down freely at the sheer pleasure at this point. “Y-you-” you gasp, your five fingers splaying out over Satoru’s head. Pushing even harsher, “You hngh- talk too much- m’so close-”

Partially because you really needed those pretty lips back at your heated core, partially because every word tumbling from his mouth had you throbbing embarrassingly, your slick spreading a glossy sheen on the sheets underneath you.

“Oh yeah? Heh, anything for you, flower.” Satoru grins such a sly, sultry grin and you feel it against one set of your swollen lips. “Absolutely anything.”

In and out in and out. He has his brows furrowed now, concentrated on having every flick and divot of movement pushing you closer and closer towards the edge. Faster. Sloppier. You have half the mind to wonder whether it didn’t hurt - whether Satoru’s tongue wasn’t cramping up from how fast he was going, whether his fingers weren’t tired already.

Out of the corner of your spotty vision, you can see those stuttering squeezes of Satoru’s hand speed up. Trying desperately to match each bullying push of his tongue and his fingers into your overstuffed pussy.

The thought makes you whine, “Oh my god- Toru, m’gonna cum.” And shit, at this point it’s too much. You couldn’t think - you couldn’t even breathe. “M’so close please.” Barely able to even register anything but Satoru Satoru Satoru-

It’s why you don’t even realize at first when you’re finally cumming - Satoru does, though. He feels it in the way your heavenly walls are closing down on his fingers, clenching around him so tight that it was almost difficult to fuck you through your orgasm. Waves of electric pleasure crashing into you and you think you’re drowning.

“Tha’s it.” he rasps. “Cum f’me like that, tha’s it- thaaat’s it, such a good lil’ wife- a perfect mate.”

The fingers stuffed deep inside your pussy are being pulled out in a flash - not letting you waste a moment of your heady high before he’s toying ravenously with your swollen clit. Pinching, and rolling between two soft fingers.

“O-oh fuck, m’-cumming? M’cumming m’cumming-” you moan deliriously, mind just now catching up. Your hips drag your sloppy pussy all over Satoru’s pretty face. Just drenching his noble features with your gushing mess. “Feels too ah- good, Toru.”

And he takes it like it’s everything he needs - everything he’s ever wanted.

Jaw falling slack to let your juices slide down his throat, tongue lolling out flick your spasming cunt through your high. Unstopping. Unwavering.

Even when your vision stops tingeing with black at the edges, even when you think you’re sane enough to form a coherent thought. Even when your climax is bating enough that every flick of Satoru’s tongue only sends almost painful thrums of pleasure down your spine.

“W-wait m’done-” you sob, tasting the salty stream of tears splashing down your face now. “S’too sensitive- ngh-”

When he doesn’t show any signs of stopping anytime soon, you try again - this time thinking the embarrassing thought out loud. I…I really want you inside me now, Toru. Please?

And he pauses - jolting, as if some dark, primal part of him had just been called back to life. Tongue still hot on your cunt, fist still greedy around his rock-hard shaft.

“F-fuck you’re gonna be the death of me, flower.”

And before, you couldn’t get enough of those striking blue eyes, but now you couldn’t escape them.

With inhuman speed, he’s shuffling up the soaked sheets. “An absolute fuckin-” Slick-glossed lips meet yours, smearing along the combination of juices till the lower half of your face was as dripping wet as Satoru’s. “-minx, y’know that?”

“Wh-what can I say?” you tilt your head with a smirk, lips a bit too loose than you’d like - but it didn’t matter anyway, he was in your thoughts. Your mind. “I’m your mate, after all.”

He falls back onto his knees at that sinful little sentence of yours, throwing his head back in a guttural groan. “Fuck- you’re mine alright. See what you hah- do to me? See how this is all your fault?”

If Satoru expected an answer, then he doesn’t receive it. Because every snippy little retort on the tip of your tongue melts when you get a long, hard look at the angry shaft in his hand. So red and angry. Thick enough that you felt your cunt quiver already.

Delicate with prominent veins that glistened and throbbed down his long, long length with each slew of his vigorous fist. And his tip- fuck, blushed your favorite shade of weepy pink, slobbering a sheen of precum all down his wrist, his tufts of cloudy white.

And you realize with a jolt that he still had your panties wrapped around him - looking so tiny around Satoru’s massive cock.

Wordlessly, your hand replaces his.

“W-woah- fuck-” His toned waist flexes with the effort to fuck up into the soft cushion of your palm. “How the- ngh how the fuck does your fuckin’ hand feel this good?”

“You’re so big- fuck, don’t know how I’d- Wait you never imagined this?” you bat your eyes up with faux innocence. A thumb gliding over that deep divot on the very tip of his fat head. “Because I sure have, Toru.”

Satoru’s heavy balls smack against your arm when he shuffles down his pants even further, now fully letting you go ahead with your agonizing torture. “Shit-” he yelps, eyes screwing shut at the image. “Don’t- don’t say that, holy shit.”

You toy with your scrap of panties, massaging every ridge and curve with it. Just dragging your hand up and down. “Would you rather I think it instead?”

Within milliseconds, two sharp fangs are poised right above your rapid pulse, a hand around your throat. “No- no no no no-” Satoru gasps, sounding like he was at the end of his rope. And it takes him a few blinks to realize his position, immediately moving his lips up to nip at your jaw. “Fuckin’ no.” Hard enough that another red pearl of blood drips out, instantly being sucked up greedily by your fiancé. “Gonna make me lose it before I-I ngh-”

With a pained growl, he suddenly has you sitting so prettily on his muscular lap. Your legs splayed out like such a slut, needy cunt slobbering all over where you were sat right on his demanding erection.

By the time you’re realizing your helpless position, it’s too late - and Satoru’s already shrugging off the rest of his pants. Buttons hitting the floor when he just tears his flowing dress shirt off.

“Sh-show off.” you breathe, hands mapping out every dip and curve of the plane of defined muscles displayed before you. So mouthwatering.

“Can tell that you- ngh think m’mouthwatering, flower.” he grins. One hand kneading and groping the flesh of your ass to steady your drooling cunt to kiss at his thick tip. The other keeping one of your palms stuck to his washboard abs, up, up, up to press at his sculpted left pec. “N’ I know m’heart’s not beating, but I’m much the same. Very- much the- same.”

And Satoru’s spent years waiting, yearning - so he doesn’t waste even a second more when stuffing his cock inside your snug cunt.

“O-oh. Satoru- Satoru please oh-”

The stretch - fuck, the stretch. The stretch is so much that it feels like you’re being split apart. Just the bare tip of his fat cock being bullied in short, determined half-thrusts.

And it takes only one, lucky collision into the bullseye of your g-spot and you’re already falling apart.

“Wait- wait wait wait m’gonna-” you gasp, your nails running down his broad, milky back in jagged red lines when you’re cumming once more. Toes curling, hips convulsing wildly on top of a smug Satoru. “Oh my god, ngh- what’ve you done to me, Toru?”

“Now, let me ngh- let me tell you a little secret, hah- princess.” His hand comes up to cup your jaw, gifting a sweet kiss on your swollen lips. “The best thing about mates?” Sharp fangs catch onto your delicate skin, “They feel sex on a whole other level.”

And then he’s bringing down both hands to spread apart the globes of your ass. Your puffy folds are stretched to their limits when he thrusts up once. Muscled thighs flexing underneath yours. Harsh.

Ignoring your pleading keens and the slight resistance at the intrusion of his intimidating size, “Hold on, princess- hold- fuuuuck.” Lips latch onto yours, drinking up every heady whine when your poor cunt is being fed every inch by fucking inch. “You’re taking me so well.”

And that you were - your pussy lips bulging and struggling to accommodate Satoru’s monstrous size, but still taking him in so greedily.

“There we go.” he grunts out, punctuated with heavy rams of hips. Up, up, up until you could feel Satoru’s sobbing tip graze against your cervix - your lungs. “Theeere we fuckin’-” Pushing and pushing until there was no more, until your neglected clit was scratching against his snowy pubic hair. Ass coming to rest at his twitching balls. “-go.”

“You’re in so deep-” you’re blabbering, cockdrunk already. The last few dredges of your high still not wearing off, it takes you a few seconds of Satoru still trying to squeeze his cock even deeper to manage to raise a hand about midway up your stomach. Feeling for that vertical bulge that was him, “-can feel you right here.”

“Oh yeah?”

And like he was testing your theory, Satoru fucks up into your gummy hole in another bullying slam. Watching in wonder at the way that little divot in your stomach crashes around the same spongy cervix he was.

“Fuck- you’re right.” he hisses. Addicted now. Immediately rocking into you with reeling, long rolls of his hips. “You’re so- fuckin’ right.”

You can’t find the energy in yourself to even yelp in surprise when Satoru immediately changes your positions so that you’re now laying fucked-out on the mattress. His domineering hips pinning you down to use you like some little cocksleeve.

“God-” he pants into your open mouth, tongue swirling with your weighty one. “God- fuck fuck fuck if heaven is real then this is it.” Each little profanity is decorated with a smoldering crash of his tip into your sweet spot. “You’re the heaven I don’t ngh- deserve, flower.”

That neat bitemark on your thigh is being jostled with the amount of ragged movement, and you wince with pain when it starts flowing again.

“Oh- oh.”

Satoru’s like a predator that has cornered his prey, and is spending hours tediously unraveling every single bit of you.

Sliding two smooth palms underneath your legs, they’re urgently thrown over his large shoulders to fold you down, down, down into the meanest mating press you think you could handle - handle without fucking breaking, that is.

“So good t’me.” he breathes, long tongue easily licking up that sweet nectar of your blood. “Y’know your cute lil’ brain s’too scrambled to even read right now.”

“H-how can I think when you’re ah! Like- like this, Toru?”

The sudden change in angle makes you scream. It makes you clamor for the headboard, the sheets, your husband when that obscenely perfect upwards curve of his dick is massaging every nook and cranny of your cunt.

“Yeah? Feels good? Now now- don’t run- away” he’s dragging you down those drenched sheets by the legs like some ragdoll, stuffing you more and more with his painful cock. Fucking you so relentless, like he was trying to worship every little hidden sweet spot inside your dripping cunt. “Say it- no no no, not in your head. Say it.”

And you do - a little over fifteen times when his thick hilt pecks your pussy lips over and over with each thrust when Satoru bottoms out, hitting all the way into the back of your cunt - your cervix, your g-spot - like he couldn’t decide which one to bruise more.

“S’too good-” you’re gasping. Your overstimulated pussy being molded like clay to the girthy shaft kissing down your cunt. Stretching out your elastic walls until you could almost feel them take shape to his swollen cock. Feel every sensitive spot inside you being overstimulated at once with every burning massage against them. “You’re fuckin’ me way too- too good- ngh- can’t even think.”

But that wasn’t enough for him.

Dipping a thumb down to circle around your clit, white-hot pleasure shoots up your spine when he lets out a deep rumble, “Think I fell in love with you when I- fuck, right then and there when I first- hah saw you all those years back.” speeding up with the sloppy staccato of his rude cock. Satoru’s words slurring now, messed up and half-prepared like the accelerating half-thrusts being bestowed upon your ravaged cunt. Like he couldn’t bear to pull out completely. “The first time you saw me, you were so afraid. Look at you- fuck, jus’ look at you now, princess.”

Each word is like a brand onto your sticky skin, accompanied by harsh smacks of Satoru’s balls against your ass, his sharp hip bones digging into your thighs. Him.

“Toru–” is all you can manage to whine out, a limp hand pulling his face closer to yours. You’re jumping with each swipe at your poor clit. “Toru m’here.”

“And- and yet-” he’s still blabbering, still pussydrunk while he fucks you so menacingly. Fingers sopping wet with their assault on your sensitive nub, “And yet I just- fuck-” He cuts himself off to give your messy hole another thick stream of spit. Coating his long, raw shaft - rubbed red with the way your gripping walls were massaging him so right - making it easier to slide in and out. “And yet, I just had to see you, to see the gorgeous mate I don’t deserve. I couldn’t live without you.”

A single overstimulated tear glistens a track down Satoru’s pretty face - one you kiss away as quickly as it appeared. Nudging open those teary, blue gaze to bore down on you.

Oh, he looked an absolute wreck - white hair mussed up, stray strands sticking to his forehead. Glossy lips parted, drool pooling at the corner, broken grunts leaving him with each smash of his tip back into your cunt. So blissed out.

Jolting at your eyes on him, Satoru feels his balls tighten so painfully. Abs burning when his pace stutters with need.

“You’re haunting me, just as much as I was haunting you, Toru.”

The candles go out. Instantly.

And shit you’re feeling it first when when hé’s cumming and cumming so hard that it almost hurts. Flashes of white startling behind his closed, glassy eyes. “Shit- shit shit shit shit-” Hairs on your body raising as Satoru’s fingers draw circles on your clit so aggressively. Dragging out your high. Forcing it. “Take it- take it all, my flower. Let me paint this pretty pussy all white.” Violent, almost.

So, really, it makes sense that your third orgasm of the night was the same.

Just shivering, sinful tingles running from your overstimulated mind right down to where Satoru was stuffing thick white ropes of potent seed deeper and deeper down your tight channel.

Overspilling with each calculated ram, his cum is oozing out of the corners of your puffy lips with each furious clench of his balls. Too much.

And it’s all you can do to sit there and take it, feeling the sloppy dredges of cum make a mess slobbering down your thighs and his. Starting up blearily at the blurry paintings on the ceilings. The paintings of you - of a still Satoru that looked down at you with only half as much intensity and pure swirling emotion as he was right now.

Something that couldn’t be painted - but would make such a pretty picture, when his fangs bite into that racing junction at your neck.

You scream a soundless scream of his name, eyes rolling to the back of your head as something warm fills your entire body.

Leaving your words unheard, your ravaged hole loose to let out slobbering squelches of Satoru’s cum. Blood racing and flowing right into Satoru’s greedy mouth.

“Princess-” he gulps. Tongue licking up every crimson bead his crazed eyes could spot, body aching when he dares pull away from that heavenly taste. More. “Princess princess princess- you- hngh you’re mine. All mine now.”

And he’s letting out more thick globs of cum straight into your waiting cunt. Body bowing even harder to let it seep into your elastic walls, your womb. So much more than you can take and he just keeps giving.

It seems like forever when Satoru finally pulls away - and within the glowing blue of his eyes, you can see the red staining his lips, dripping down those fangs, his chin. Staining the silk sheets below - staining you with so much more.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching up to catch his lips in a bloodied kiss. Your own elongated canines catching amateurishly on his lips.

Satoru hisses - but he likes it. And you can tell.

You can read every single hypnotizing thought whirling behind those crystal blue eyes - how he wants to ravish you again, how he wants to worship you. To make you his all over, to have you make him yours. The thought makes you smile as you whisper, “I’m onto you, Toru.”

“You’re onto me, flower.” Catching your lips in a sweet, sweet red kiss. “Forever.”

A/N. This was SOOO fun to write omg y’all have no idea. If you made it this far then you get a sloppy smooch from me mwahhhh.

Plagiarism of work not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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hanniebaeee · 4 months ago

Text

The Secret Hwang

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: reader is pregnant

Genre: exes to lovers?? angst, fluff

Summary: Hyunjin breaks up with you after the company thinks your relationship is affecting his work. What he didn't know was that you were also gearing up to tell him something very important. But then swoops in two angels in disguise, helping you through the tough time, before it all blows over.

You’re breaking up with me?” The words left your lips before your brain could catch up.

Your heart thundered against your ribcage, like it was desperate to escape what was unfolding right then. And your boyfriend of three years, Hyunjin, looked as miserable as you felt.

Hyunjin stood in front of you, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders sagging. He wouldn’t look at you - that was even worse.

“Yes,” he whispered, voice so low it barely registered. “I'm so sorry.”

You take a step closer, his words not making any sense.

“You have to? What the hell does that mean, Hyunjin? Did I…did I do something? Did I hurt you-?”

His head snaps up, his eyes wide and glossy, horrified at the mere suggestion.

“No! Of course not! You’ve never - God, Y/N, no. It’s -” His words faltered, and he looked away again, his hands shaking as they grip his hoodie strings. “It’s…they think it’s affecting me. My work.”

“Who? The company?”

“They said…” He swallowed hard, the words clearly tearing him apart as he forced them out. “They said if I don’t end this, they’ll fire you. They’ll make sure you never work in this industry again. And they’ll…ruin it all for you...”

You stared at him, utterly speechless. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

“So what? You’re just going to do what they want? Throw away three years like it means nothing?”

“It’s not like that,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“Protect me? By breaking me?” You laughed bitterly, even though it felt more like choking.

You knew he wanted to reach for you, to pull you close like he always did when you were upset, but he didn’t move.

“Baby, I don’t have a choice. If I don’t do this-”

You didn't stay to hear the rest. You took a step back before saying, “You’re a coward,”

Hyunjin’s head snapped up like you slapped him, but you pressed on.

“You’re letting them control you. Letting them decide what our love is worth. You’re not even fighting for me.”

Hyunjin’s face crumpled, and for a second, you thought he would reconsider. But he didn't. He just looked really sad. And lost.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Goodbye, Hyunjin.”

And then you ran. You didn’t look back. You couldn't. Because if you did, you’d fall apart completely, and you just couldn’t afford that. Not with the tiny life growing inside you.

The three months that followed were hard, no doubt. But relatively less harder than you thought, considering the fact that the boys were on tour. You didn't have to see him everyday as you taught your heart to ‘unlove’ him. If such a thing could be done.

You had decided to go ahead with your pregnancy - bad call probably, because you obviously couldn't tell anyone that your baby was Hyunjin’s. Of course. So you'd have to come up with a creative lie to cover the gap - a non-existent boyfriend or a husband?

It was exhausting.

---

You stood at the kitchen counter, staring at your ultrasound scan result. The sight of your little bean on the screen earlier had brought tears to your eyes - happy bittersweet ones. But mostly, you’d felt so terribly lonely.

Moments like that were meant to be shared, weren’t they? Your heart ached so much. So damn much. You sighed as you gazed at the little form in the black and white image.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Setting the report on the counter, you get the door. What you didn't expect was Felix’s sweet smiling face. You hadn't seen him or any of the boys since the break up (they'd left for the tour), so seeing Felix, your close friend, made you freeze.

“Lix,” you said, your voice more tired than you’d like.

He immediately pulled you into a warm hug, and you had to control that strong urge to just weep.

“Hey,” he said, squeezing you tightly. “I missed you! How have you been?”

“I'm alright. You guys had a good tour I heard,” You managed, stepping aside to let him in.

“It was good,” He said with a smile, and held up a bag. “I brought you a little something from Australia.”

“Lix, you didn’t have to -”

“Oh, hush. I do it all the time.” he said. “You look... tired…you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lied, waving him off.

“You want me to get his stuff? I have it packed and ready.” You said, wanting to get that out of the way as soon as possible.

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “ Is that okay?”

Your stomach twisted unpleasantly, but you nodded and said, “Yeah, of course. Let me grab it.”

He followed you into the house, and as you went into the bedroom to get Hyunjin’s things, Felix walked into the kitchen to put the things he got for you away.

When you returned with the bag, however, you saw Felix in the kitchen, uncharacteristically quiet. You walked in and completely froze in the doorway.

Felix stood by the counter, holding your ultrasound result, and his usually bright expression was completely blank, his eyes glued black and white image.

“Lix…” you said softly, panic rising in your chest.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice eerily calm, “what is this?”

You didn’t answer, your hands trembling as you clutched the bag of Hyunjin’s things. Tears pricked your eyes, and you knew there was no use pretending or coming up with a lie.

“Please tell me this is not what I think it is.” he said, his voice wavering as he turned to face you with the paper in his hand.

Your silence spoke louder than words. Tears spilled over, and you quickly wiped at them, trying to keep it together. But it was of no use - Felix took one look at your face and let the paper fall onto the counter.

“Oh my God.” His voice cracked as he crossed the room in two giant strides, pulling you into a tight hug.

His arms wrapped around you like a safety net, holding you together.

“Y/N, please don't tell me Hyunjin knocked you up and then broke up with you. Tell me I’m hallucinating. Please.”

You laughed weakly through your tears, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once.

“He didn't know, Lix. He didn't know-” You whispered and Felix pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still on your shoulders.

His mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was trying to form words but couldn't. Finally, he let out a strangled laugh.

“He doesn’t know?!” He shook his head, his freckles standing out against his flushed skin. “Are you kidding me, Y/N? You’re telling me that man broke up with you because he wanted to protect you, and the entire time, you’ve been carrying his baby?”

“I was going to tell him, Lix, I was. That's why I went to meet him, but didn't give me a chance to say anything…he just…he just broke up with me!” you cried, wiping your face. “What was I supposed to do? Tell him and ruin everything?”

“Yes!” Felix shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “Yes, sweetheart, you’re supposed to tell him! He deserves to know. This is big, like life changing big!”

You shook your head, your voice trembling as you said, “Lix, you don’t understand. This is about his career, his dreams. He’s worked so hard to get where he is, and I won’t be the reason he loses it all.”

Felix stared at you, his face a mixture of disbelief and heartbreak.

“Y/N,” he said softly. “You can’t do this alone.”

“I have to,” you whispered, looking down at the floor. “I will.”

“Yes, you do.” His voice was firm, his hands gently cupping your cheeks and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “But don't have to. I’m here. Whatever you need, anything at all, you’ve got me. You’re not allowed to say no, okay?”

Your breath hitched, the warmth of his hands and the sincerity in his voice had you crumblung all over again. “Lix…”

“I mean it,” he said, his eyes shining with determination. “You’re not doing this alone. I don’t care what it takes. We’re going to figure this out. Together.”

You nodded, sniffling as he wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Thank you.”

Felix didn’t say anything to Hyunjin. True to his word, he kept his mouth shut, but the secret was eating him alive to say the least. The man had gone full protective mode - literally adopting you, and by extension, your unborn child, completely.

And his possessiveness manifested in the most Felix way possible: constant texting. Constant.

Also, he changed your contact name to George. Why? Because no ones gonna get suspicious about a George he's talking to 24*7, right?

---

7:32 am

Felix: Good morning, sunshine! Have you eaten yet? If not, DO IT NOW. Don’t argue with me.

Felix: I will come over if you don't obey me, George!

You: Felix, it’s 7 in the morning. I just woke up. Also, who's George?

Felix: You’re George. That’s your name now. It’s safer this way.

Felix: And don’t dodge the question: HAVE YOU EATEN???

You: I literally just rolled out of bed, Felix. Give me a second to breathe.

Felix: No time to breathe, go FEED THE BABY.

You: This baby isn’t even hungry yet. Can you chill?

Felix: Fine. But just so you know, I won't hesitate from force-feeding you myself.

---

12:45 PM

Felix: Hey, did you go to your appointment today?

You: Yes, I went.

Felix: Pics or it didn’t happen.

You: I’m not sending you pictures of me at the doctor’s office, Lix

Felix: Why not? What if I need to fight the doctor? I need evidence.

You: Why would you need to fight my doctor?

Felix: I dunno, what if they're bad at their job? I’m not taking chances, George.

You: Please stop calling me George.

Felix: It's your name.

---

7:48 PM

Felix: Are you home? Did you eat dinner? Did you lock your doors?

You: Oh my God, Felix, can you give me a second to exist without you breathing down my neck?

Felix: No. I’m invested now.

You: Why are you like this?

Felix: Because my best friend knocked you up and then left you, and now I feel morally obligated to act like your baby daddy by proxy.

You: Please don’t say that again. Ever.

Felix: Too late. Also, how’s George Jr.?

You: Felix, we are NOT naming this baby George Jr.

Felix: Why not? It’s a great name.

You: I’m blocking you.

Felix: No, you’re not.

---

Hyunjin on the other hand was completely unaware of everything that was happening around him. He was completely shut off, pouring his entire self into practice and his work outs.

He missed you. He missed you so damn much. He would randomly take a walk in the building, hoping he'd get a glimpse of you. But seriously, you were nowhere to be seen.

Hyunjin was on his way to the practice room after a particularly unsuccessful attempt to run into you, when he heard the voices. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but the venom in their tone caught his attention.

It took him a minute to figure out that they were actually talking about you, and he couldn't help but feel that rage bubbling up inside him.

“She’s gained so much weight lately,” one of the girls snickered. “I mean, have you seen her?”

The other girl laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t know what happened to her. She used to be so put together, but now? She’s just… bloated and tired all the time.”

Hyunjin’s jaw clenched so hard it felt like his teeth might crack. How dare they?! He felt the overwhelming urge to whirl around and to let his emotions loose, to say something.

But of course Hyunjin couldn’t do that. Not really. He was an idol - a carefully constructed image, a brand - and he's already sacrificed way too much for the sake of it. He couldn’t afford to screw it all up now.

So instead, he swallowed his rage, shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and started walking again. And then, as if it was a cruel joke, he saw you.

You were walking down the hallway, dressed in a dark-colored sweater, your hair tied back, wisps escaping to frame your face. You looked tired, yes. But, as always, to him, you looked absolutely beautiful.

But Hyunjin couldn't help but see that something was different. His eyes lingered a little too long on the soft curve of your body. Your face seemed rounder, your stride slightly slower, more careful.

His heart ached as he watched you pause at the corner, adjusting your bag before disappearing around the corner. He missed you so much it physically hurt. Shaking his head, Hyunjin turned and walked away, trying so hard to hold it all together.

He couldn’t keep doing this to himself. He had to move on.

If only he knew that a mini Hyunjin was quite literally baking inside you, tucked away and growing strong under that sweater. If only he knew.

3:40 pm

Felix: How's the nausea?

You: I can't understand why it's called morning sickness if it's gonna last all day and trying to murder me

Felix: Don’t worry, George, I’m gonna make you the perfect meal. Zero vomit potential.

You: Omg

---

Meanwhile in Felix’s kitchen:

Felix was in deep. The counter was a disaster of herbs and half-cut veggies, and a pan bubbled ominously on the stove. His laptop sat precariously on the edge of the counter, streaming a cooking tutorial that Felix was utterly failing to keep up with.

“Chop the ginger finely,” the video said.

Felix frowned down at the mangled, uneven chunks of ginger on his cutting board.

“This is fine, right?” he mumbled to himself, throwing them into a pan.

“No, it’s not fine,” a voice said behind him, calm but dripping with judgment.

Felix jumped, yelping as he nearly knocked the pan off the stove. He whirled around to see Minho leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed and a single eyebrow raised.

“Hyung!” Felix squeaked, his voice an octave too high. “What are you doing here?”

“We're having dinner together. Forgot I see ?” Minho asked flatly, his sharp eyes sweeping over the culinary battlefield. He nodded at the laptop screen.

“What’s this? I thought we were ordering?”

Felix scrambled to close the YouTube video but fumbled, sending a spatula clattering to the floor.

“No! I just…uh…thought this recipe looked… yummy?”

Minho’s other eyebrow shot up as he read, “Ginger and lemon soup for nausea relief? That’s not exactly your usual vibe, Lix.”

Felix froze, his brain scrambling for an excuse. “I…uh…”

Minho tilted his head, his gaze locked on Felix. He gestured toward the mess. “Who’s it for?”

“No one!” Felix blurted out too quickly.

Minho smirked - like a cat cornering a mouse. He strolled into the kitchen, plucked up the laptop, and read the YouTube title aloud: “Pregnancy-Friendly Meals, huh?”

Felix groaned internally. He was so dead. Minho set the laptop down and turned to Felix, his face unreadable.

“You’re cooking for Y/N, aren’t you?”

“How…what…why would you -” Felix blinked at him, jaw dropping.

“I saw her going into a maternity hospital last week...and now this? It’s really sweet of you,” Minho said, his tone soft and kind, as he started clearing the counter. “She’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

Felix stared at him, absolutely flabbergasted. How did Minho know? He stayed silent, unsure if confirming or denying would make things worse.

“Relax, I’m not going to say anything. But…” His sharp eyes flicked to the pan on the stove, then back to Felix, a smirk forming on his face. “You’re doing a terrible job. Move.”

Before Felix could protest, Minho rolled up his sleeves and took over. Within minutes, the chaos Felix had created was transformed into a very professionally prepared meal.

Felix hovered awkwardly, torn between relief and panic. “You…you won’t tell anyone, right?”

Minho snorted. “Of course not. And if you’re serious about helping her, then I'll stand right by you.”

He packed up everything in containers and handed it to Felix with a raised eyebrow.

“Now go. She needs to eat.”

---

Felix was at yours in record time, and when he set the food down on the coffee table, you looked up from the couch, sighing softly.

“Did you burn the kitchen down?”

“Nope,” Felix said quickly. “Minho saved me.”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide. “What? Minho? He knows?”

Felix flopped onto the couch beside you, looking absolutely defeated.

“Yeah, apparently he’s known for a while. He saw you going into the maternity hospital one day.”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “Oh my God.”

“He promised not to say anything!” Felix said defensively, holding his hands up. “And he even helped cook this. So, technically, you can’t kill me.”

You glared at him but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Thanks for being here, Lix.”

Felix grinned, nudging the plate toward you. “Eat, George. Minho will haunt me if you don’t.”

You rolled your eyes but dug in, and for the first time in days, the food didn’t immediately send you running for the bathroom.

---

The next morning, you woke up to the doorbell, in the early hours. It was still dark outside, as you stumbled out of your bedroom, still half-asleep, and a scowl firmly planted on your face.

“Took you long enough,” Minho mumbled as he walked into your apartment, going straight for the kitchen.

You were trying to understand if you were hallucinating or if Minho was actually in your kitchen.

“Minho, what are you doing here?” You asked, trying to tame your hair.

“Sit,” he commanded without looking up, focused on flipping something in the pan.

You frowned but obeyed, collapsing into a chair at the table. “It’s not even sunrise.”

“Just making sure you eat,” he said simply. “Lix said you're struggling,”

“You're here to cook for me?”

“Yes?”

Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Felix stepped inside, carrying what looked like a bag of groceries. He stopped short, staring at Minho with the same confusion you felt.

“What is he doing here?”

“I could ask the same about you,” Minho shot back without missing a beat, sprinkling a pinch of salt over whatever masterpiece he was working on.

Felix stormed into the kitchen, setting his bag down with an unnecessary thud. “What are you doing, hyung? And what are you even making? George doesn’t even like eggs that much!”

Minho scoffed. “It’s not for you, so why does it matter?”

“It matters because I’m supposed to be taking care of her!” Felix snapped, crossing his arms like an angry puppy.

“Clearly, you weren’t doing a great job,” Minho retorted. “I saw the mess you called cooking yesterday.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands. “Not this.”

---

Over the next few days, it became a full-on battle between Minho and Felix. It started with each trying to one-up the other in ways that were more amusing than helpful.

One morning, Felix insisted on making pancakes, painstakingly arranging blueberries into a smiley face on each one. “See, George? They’re cute and delicious!”

Minho, unimpressed, countered by making a three-course breakfast complete with fresh juice and perfectly folded napkins. “Pregnant women need nutrients, not art projects,” he said smugly.

Felix glared at him like he wanted to fight. “Pregnant women also need to smile, and my pancakes are adorable.”

But for all their ridiculousness, their constant presence was a comfort. They kept you distracted from the gaping hole in your chest where Hyunjin’s absence had settled. But no amount of blueberry pancakes or perfectly cooked meals could fill that void.

Felix had barged into your apartment one evening with a box of cookies that he'd baked.

“George! I baked you something!”

Minho, already in the kitchen chopping vegetables, glanced over his shoulder with a look that screamed, not this again.

“What are those?” Minho asked, gesturing to Felix's box with his knife.

“Cookies,” Felix said proudly, setting them on the table in front of you. “Pregnancy-safe, gluten-free, sugar-free, full of love.”

“Full of what?” Minho deadpanned, clearly unimpressed.

“Love!” Felix shot back, hands on his hips. “Something you wouldn’t understand, obviously.”

“Love isn’t a substitute for nutrition, Yongbok. Try again.” Minho snorted.

“Oh, here we go,” you muttered, already bracing for the impending argument as you sat at the table, nibbling cautiously on a cookie.

“You’re just jealous because George Jr. is my baby,” Felix said, crossing his arms and glaring at Minho like he’d just won the argument of the century.

Minho paused mid-chop, turned slowly to face Felix.

“George Jr.?” he asked flatly. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“What’s wrong with George Jr.?” Felix said defensively. “It’s a strong name! Unique even!”

Minho scoffed. “Unique isn’t always a good thing, Felix. You might as well call the baby Lemon or Carrot.”

“Wow, okay,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands.

“And besides,” Minho continued, turning back to the stove like the conversation was settled, “I do the majority of the cooking, Y/N is thriving on it, so I'm the rightful Appa.”

Felix gasped like Minho had just slapped him.

“Excuse me? Cooking doesn’t make you the dad! I’m the one who gives her all the cuddles and emotional support!”

“You’re like a clingy golden retriever,” Minho shot back, not even turning around.

“Say that again, hyung, I dare -”

“Enough!” you shouted, cutting through their bickering. Both men froze, wide-eyed, and looked at you.

“I'm sure Hyunjin would probably like a say in this whole ‘who’s the dad’ debate.” you said, and the room fell silent.

And then Minho shrugged casually.

“I mean, sure, if we’re counting his five seconds of contribution to this whole thing.”

You and Felix both turned to stare at him, your mouths dropping open in identical expressions of disbelief. It took approximately two seconds before all three of you burst out laughing.

The laughter started light, then turned uncontrollable, your giggles mixing with Felix’s loud snorts and Minho’s chuckles. You laughed so hard your sides started to hurt, but then, without warning, the giggles morphed into something else.

The tears hit you before you could stop them. One moment you were laughing, and the next, you were crying, the overwhelming mix of emotions crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Felix’s smile faltered, and he rushed to your side, wrapping an arm around you.

“George, hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, his usual sunshine dimmed by concern.

Minho was there a moment later, kneeling in front of you and gently resting a hand on your knee.

“Breathe, jagi,” he said quietly. “You’re okay. We’re here.”

You sniffled, trying to compose yourself, but the weight of everything - the pregnancy, the secret, missing Hyunjin - was too much.

“I miss him…a lot,” you managed between sobs.

“I know, I know…but we're here for you, George. You’re not alone in this, okay? We’ve got you.” Felix hugged you tighter, his voice steady but emotional.

Minho nodded as he said, “He’s right. You’re stuck with us now. You and George Jr.”

That earned a watery laugh from you, and you wiped at your eyes, looking between them.

“I don’t deserve you two.”

“Yes, you do,” Minho said firmly.

“Absolutely,” Felix added. “And so does George Jr.”

---

Hyunjin was losing his mind.

It wasn’t just the lingering ache of your absence or the fact that he hadn’t heard your voice in what felt like forever. But it was also Felix, his best friend, his other half, his partner-in-crime. Felix was suddenly a closed book. The guy who usually shared everything, from dumb cat videos to the tiniest gossip about their members, had turned into a human vault. A sketchy human vault.

Felix was constantly disappearing. After practice, during breaks, even in the middle of game nights. When Hyunjin asked, Felix always had some vague excuse.

“Oh, just running errands!”

“Helping out Minho-hyung with something.”

“Had to grab something for George!”

Who the hell was George?

Hyunjin squinted every time Felix made one of these excuses. Since when was his best friend suddenly so obsessed with running errands? And why was Minho always involved?

Hyunjin didn’t like it.

At first, he chalked it up to paranoia. Maybe he was overthinking. Obviously, losing you had him extra possessive and clingy. Maybe Felix and Minho were just…hanging out more? It wasn’t a crime. But then Hyunjin started noticing things.

Felix and Minho were inseparable. They’re always whispering about God-knows-what. They’d vanish together after schedules, not even bothering to invite Hyunjin to join.

So naturally, one evening, after a particularly grueling practice session, Hyunjin cornered Felix in the locker room.

“Lix,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall like he was interrogating a criminal. “Where have you been going all the time?”

And to his credit, Felix didn’t even flinch.

“Oh, nowhere. Just hanging out with Minho-hyung. You know how it is.”

“Since when do you and Minho-hyung have this…whatever-this-is?” Hyunjin narrowed his eyes.

Felix shrugged nonchalantly, pulling his hoodie over his head and saying, “We’ve just been vibing.”

“Vibing?” Hyunjin echoed, incredulous. “You disappear every day to vibe? And what’s with all the whispering during practice?”

Felix zipped up his hoodie and slung his bag over his shoulder.

“You’re being dramatic, Hyun. It’s nothing.”

Hyunjin stared at him, trying to gauge if Felix was lying. But Felix’s face was completely blank, a perfect poker face.

“What about Y/N?” Hyunjin asked, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “Have you…seen her?”

At that, Felix paused, just for a second, but it was enough for Hyunjin to notice.

“I'm sure she’s good, Hyun. Busy probably.” he managed, giving him a smile.

Hyunjin frowned, but before he could press further, Felix clapped him on the shoulder.

“Don’t overthink, mate. Get some rest, yeah?”

And just like that, Felix was gone, leaving Hyunjin standing in the empty locker room, more confused than ever.

---

The next day, Hyunjin had been lingering suspiciously around the studio after practice, pretending to stretch while trying (and failing) to overhear Felix and Minho’s latest hushed conversation.

Chris, so so used to all the bullshit his boys pulled on the regular, had noticed this constant whispering between Felix and Minho, and also Hyunjin’s not-so-subtle attempts to loiter. He clapped his hands loudly.

“Hyunjin, go home. You’re exhausted, mate.”

Hyunjin, startled, stammered something about finishing up but Chris gave him a hard enough glare that had him reluctantly packing up and storming off (throwing one last suspicious glance at Felix, who pretended to be engrossed in tying his shoelaces.)

Once Hyunjin was out the door, Chris turned to Felix and Minho, his arms crossed and his leader gaze set to high alert.

“Okay,” he said, his voice stern, “what’s going on with you two? You’ve been sneaking around like teenagers, and I have a bad feeling about it. Spill.”

Felix and Minho exchanged a glance, before Minho shook his head.

“Nothing’s going on, hyung,” Minho said coolly, leaning against the wall like he wasn’t sweating internally.

Felix, on the other hand, immediately started babbling.

“Oh, you know, just chilling and cooking and - did you know George is a big fan of pumpkin soup? I’ve been learning how to make it. Minho hyung’s been helping…he’s such a perfectionist in the kitchen, but that’s beside the point -”

But the moment ‘George’ left his mouth, Minho sighed.

“Who the hell is George?” Chris interrupted, his sharp eyes narrowing.

Minho sighed, muttering, “Great work, Yongbok.”

Felix blinked rapidly, his face heating up. He could do anything, literally anything in the world. But that anything didn't include lying to Chris.

“Oh, uh, George is just…you know…a friend!”

“A friend? You’ve been disappearing every day, and sneaking around because of a friend?”

Felix opened his mouth, probably to launch into another nonsensical explanation, but Minho cut him off.

“George is Y/N,” he said flatly, like he was tired of the charade.

Chris froze.

“What do you mean George is Y/N?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. “What the hell is going on?”

Felix started flailing, his words tripping over each other.

“It’s not like we didn’t want to tell you, hyung, but it’s complicated, and she’s been going through a lot, and she needs all the help and support with George Jr. -”

“George Jr.?!” Chris exclaimed, his voice now echoing off the walls.

Minho, as calm as ever, pointed at Felix. “You’re making it worse.”

Chris threw his hands in the air as he said, “What is George Jr.?!”

“You mean who is George Jr.? It’s the baby. She’s pregnant.” Minho sighed, rubbing his temples.

The room went silent. Chris blinked several times, his expression cycling through shock, confusion, and then something that could only be described as 'Dad Rage'.

“She’s pregnant?! SHE’S PREGNANT, AND YOU TWO KEPT THIS FROM ME?!”

Felix, now thoroughly panicking, looked at Minho like he was begging for help. Minho just shrugged.

Chris glared at both of them. “You’re taking me to her. Right now.”

---

Ten minutes later, there was a knock at your door. You waddled over and opened it to find Chris standing there, his arms crossed and his eyes full of emotion.

Before you could say a word, he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Y/N,” he said firmly, his voice laced with both worry and frustration. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Behind him, Felix stood pouting like a scolded child and Minho looked like he regretted everything.

“Chris,” you gasped, trying to pull back from his hug. “I can’t breathe!”

He released you but kept his hands on your shoulders, scanning your face like a concerned dad. “You should’ve told me. We’re family, Y/N. You thought of doing this alone? Does he know? Oh my god, he doesn't know, does he?!”

From behind him, Felix muttered, “She’s not alone. I’ve been taking care of her.”

Chris whipped around to face him.

“Oh, you’ve been taking care of her, have you?!”

Felix folded his arms, his pout deepening.

“George Jr. is mine. None of you fake dads are gonna ever-”

Minho, who’d been quiet up until now, rolled his eyes and interrupted him.

“Please. You think you’re the dad just because you baked her cookies? Please.”

Felix turned to him, affronted. “You’ve been helping me! And my baby!”

“Oh, for the love of -” Chris groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, before glancing at you. “We're gonna get through this.”

You smiled at them, nodding. But deep inside, guilt gnawed at you. Everyone except Hyunjin seemed to be catching up.

You'd started working from home more and more since you started your sixth month. You came over to the company only when you had something important to do.

This afternoon was supposed to be uneventful. You had planned to drop by the company, grab a few files, and leave quickly. But apparently, fate had other plans.

You were leaving one of the offices when you heard it.

“Y/N?”

The voice was soft, almost hesitant. You froze in place, gripping the files tightly against your chest. Slowly, you turned to see Hyunjin standing a few feet away, his eyes wide as saucers, his gaze locked on you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His gaze flickered down to your stomach - the not-so-subtle curve of your six-month baby bump that your sweater absolutely failed to conceal under closer scrutiny.

Hyunjin’s face drained of all color.

“What…Y/N…are you…?” he stammered, his voice breaking.

You panicked, taking a step back. “Hyunjin, I -”

But he was already closing the distance between you, his voice rising into a frantic whisper.

“Are you pregnant?!”

You winced, glancing around nervously, but the hallway was thankfully empty. Still, Hyunjin’s voice, even when hushed, completely floored you.

“Hyunjin, let’s not -”

“Are you pregnant?!” he repeated, his voice breaking. His hand gestured toward your stomach, and he looked so utterly wrecked that you couldn’t bring yourself to lie.

So you nodded.

His reaction was immediate. Hyunjin stumbled backward, his eyes welling up with tears, his hands clutching his head as if trying to keep himself from falling apart.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Oh my God. Oh my God, it’s mine, isn’t it?”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening at the sight of him falling apart. “Hyunjin -”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was louder now, no longer a whisper. “That’s my baby! Our baby! And you didn’t tell me?”

“Hyunjin, please,” you begged, trying to calm him, but he was a storm you couldn’t contain.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded again, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I would’ve left everything for you! Don’t you know that? I would’ve -”

You shook your head fiercely, your own tears spilling over now.

“Hyunjin, I couldn't -”

“I don’t care!” he shouted, his voice cracking painfully. “None of it means anything if I don’t have you!”

Before either of you could say more, Chris appeared, obviously having heard the chaos from the other end of the hallway.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded, his eyes flickering between you and the sobbing mess that was Hyunjin.

“Hyung,” Hyunjin sobbed, clutching Chris’s arm as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. “She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant, and she didn’t tell me. That’s my baby.” His voice broke again, and he leaned heavily into Chris, tears falling freely.

Chris’s expression softened instantly, and he glanced at you as you stood rooted to your spot, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Hyunjin, calm down. Let’s talk about this somewhere else, okay?” He tried to guide Hyunjin back toward the practice room, but Hyunjin was not taking orders from anyone at this point.

“No,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’m not going anywhere until she tells me why she didn’t tell me.”

You stepped closer, your heart breaking as you cupped his tear-streaked cheeks with trembling hands. His skin was warm beneath your touch, his eyes red and raw as they searched yours for answers.

“Because,” you whispered, your voice cracking, “I love you. I love you too much to let you give up your dreams for me.”

Hyunjin’s tears fell harder.

“You think I’d regret it?” he choked out. “You think I’d ever regret choosing you? Choosing our baby?”

You shook your head through your tears.

“I couldn’t let you make that choice, Hyun. Not when I knew how much this means to you.”

Before he could respond, Felix and Minho arrived, their worried faces appearing at the end of the hallway. Felix took one look at the scene and immediately rushed to Hyunjin’s side, wrapping an arm around him.

“Hyunjin,” Felix said softly, his own voice shaking. “Come on, breathe.”

Minho, meanwhile, approached you, his arm going around your shoulder, and then glancing at Hyunjin.

“You’re not going to solve anything by falling apart here,” he said calmly. “Pull yourself together.”

But Hyunjin was inconsolable, his sobs growing louder.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know. She’s been going through this alone, and I didn’t know. What kind of person does that make me?”

You stepped closer, your voice firm as you said, “Hyunjin, stop. You’re not a bad person. This isn’t your fault. If anything, it's mine. For keeping this from you.”

“I want to be there. Oh my God, I love you! Don’t shut me out again,” he whispered brokenly. “Please.”

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I won’t.”

As Chris and Felix finally led Hyunjin away, Minho stayed behind, pulling you into a hug.

“Well,” he said dryly, “that could’ve gone worse.”

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping your tears. “Could it?”

Minho sshrugged

“At least he knows now. He’ll come around. And when he does…” He smirked faintly. “You’re going to have a hell of a time keeping him out of your hair.”

You sighed, your heart heavy but hopeful. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The company meeting was the stuff of legends. Chris had marched in like the leader of a revolution, Hyunjin trailing behind with fire in his eyes. By the end of it, the higher-ups had no choice but to relent. Hyunjin wasn’t going anywhere. Neither were you. And most importantly, Hyunjin was going to make damn sure his family - you and George Jr. were going to be happy, and with him always.

Now that he was officially back, Hyunjin wasted no time slipping into full-time ‘husband’ mode. His mission? Make up for every second he’d missed. And maybe, just maybe, remind Minho and Felix that while they had been excellent stand-ins, it was time to hand over the reins to the rightful husband.

But, of course, Felix and Minho had no intention of stepping aside without a fight.

---

You and Hyunjin were finally having some well-deserved downtime - he had you nestled against his chest on the couch, his hand resting protectively on your bump. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt calm. Peaceful.

And then Felix appeared.

“Move,” Felix announced dramatically, striding into the room and pointing at Hyunjin like he was accusing him of a crime.

“What?” Hyunjin asked, frowning.

“I said move,” Felix repeated, already wedging himself between the two of you (particularly experienced with this as he'd done it a hundred times before).

You couldn’t help but laugh as Felix threw an arm around you and placed his head on your shoulder.

“Just so you know, Mr. Biological Father,” Felix began, glaring pointedly at Hyunjin, “George Jr. is mine. We share an emotional bond that transcends DNA, okay? And, George? She's mine too. You being back changes nothing.”

Hyunjin’s jaw dropped, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“What are you even talking about?! Why are you still calling her that?!”

Felix huffed dramatically, clutching you tighter.

“Because she’s my George! And I will not stand for you disrupting the sacred trust we’ve built. Now go be useful and bring George her smoothie.”

Hyunjin looked at you, utterly baffled. “You’re seriously letting him call you George?”

“It’s a thing now. I’ve stopped fighting it.” You shrugged, trying to stifle your giggles.

Felix gave Hyunjin a smug grin.

“See? She’s accepted her destiny. Now go.”

Before Hyunjin could fire back, Minho’s voice floated in from the kitchen.

“Yongbok-ah, I’m the one making the smoothie. I know how to serve the smoothie I made. Hyunjin, if you’re so desperate to help, why don’t you go fold the laundry or something?”

Hyunjin groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

“Why am I suddenly the errand boy in my own house?”

Minho appeared in the doorway, smoothie in hand, his expression deadpan.

“Maybe because we’ve been doing all the heavy lifting for months while you were busy, I don’t know, not knowing she was pregnant.” he said, and Hyunjin flinched, clutching his chest like Minho had shot him.

“Okay, low blow.”

“I call it the truth.” Minho smirked.

“Minho hyung and I have carried this team for far too long. You’re going to have to earn your place here, buddy.” Felix said with a grin.

Hyunjin threw his hands up in exasperation and said, “She’s literally my girlfriend! How do I have to earn anything?!”

“George belongs to us, Hyunjin. Now go fold the laundry.” Felix said, waving Hyunjin away.

You burst out laughing, clutching your belly as Hyunjin huffed in annoyance before stomping off. He came back with a basket full of freshly washed and dried clothes, and started folding.

“I’ll fold every piece of laundry in Korea if it means overthrowing these two clowns.”

“You guys are all insane, you know that?” you said, shaking your head.

“We prefer devoted.” Felix grinned.

“Dedicated. Loyal.” Minho nodded.

“Whatever they are, I’ll beat them at it. Just watch.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes but threw you a wink.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127

#skz #stray kids #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #hyunjin scenarios

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