#christopher au-young

[christopherau-young]

"Honorably Discharged."

Behind every inmate lies a great story, and military veteran Red Grant's is no exception. A veteran of the Vietnam War, he served his country from 1969 to 1975. When he got in trouble with the law for the first time he was 17, at the time he was looking at being tried as an adult. Faced with a lengthy prison sentence, he opted to join the army instead where he put his expertise as a welder to good use, repairing damaged trucks the military no longer had any use for. This proved to be a fruitful venture for Grant, whose experimental method of fixing damaged vehicles became successful over time. After 18 months, he was sent to Vietnam to work on vehicles in the field where he got way more than he bargained for, with his activities there drawing the presence of Vietcong who were none too happy to see him.

After being shot at, Red high-tailed it back to Okinawa, where the experience of nearly losing his life inspired him to pursue a more heroic path. According to him, he signed up for missions that "nobody else wanted to take care of the things that nobody else wanted to take care of." His mission was simple, infiltrate Vietnam and retrieve, aka steal, pieces of valuable tech which the enemy was using to communicate with each other. Grant's task was made easier due to the fact that the Vietnamese were really low-tech, he says. As time went along, he was entrusted with more and more responsibilities, including stopping in Burma to report on the illegal import of opium into the country. While commuting back and forth between Vietnam, Red says he witnessed a lot of villages being burned down by the Vietcong.

It wasn't all stealing boxes and recon for Grant, who barely made it out of the country alive thanks to all the gunfire from the Vietnamese; "When you're being chased and you have a place to go, you don't usually stop running until you get there," says Red. "There," referring to the helicopter which would be waiting for Red and his fellow soldiers at the safepoint. These safespots included the Green Beret Fire Bases, along with the Marine Fire bases which were laced with barbed wire, razor fences. Grant's other notable contributions included sneaking around, waiting for the Bureme trains which had bags of opium hanging from the sides.

When asked whether he saw any combat, Red smiles before recounting the time he fought a water buffalo. He says it rose up out of the grass, and chased them through the jungle until they found a tree and climbed up. After hours of waiting, Red jumped down with his axe, to face the buffalo which he later decapitated. His eyes light up as he recalls an even "cooler," story about the time he discovered an underground base built by the Vietcong, located underneath the American Air Base in Vietnam. "They had lots of things," he says, "lots of hospitals, bases underground. There was a huge center they built, nobody ever knew it was there."

Towards the end of his time in Vietnam, Red says he completed 17 missions, within the time span of 12 to 18 months. He recalls seeing one of his fellow army men being blown up after stepping on a landmine which prompted Red to quit the army. He went AWOL he says, fleeing back to Okinawa where he was honorably discharged.

Before heading off, Red pauses and stops to tell me exactly what he's being charged with. He tells me about his ex-wife who passed away, leaving him with their mobile home. Deciding he wasn't going to live there anymore, he opted to sell a prized machine gun he had found in Vietnam, which was from World War II. After being caught by the feds, Red was charged with the illegal possession and sale of a machine gun.

[hugh-lauries-bald-spot]

do you see what i see~?

[elvensorceress]

Shhhhh, Frida beloved. You saw nothing. It would just work really well, okay? I had a whole plan… and who wouldn’t love to watch them do the thing where they have sex and don’t kiss and think it means nothing and then break all the rules they set up because they caught the Feelings???

[conradrasputin]

[sunboki]

— ENDLESS WINTER. a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x f. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. 12k words

AUG'S NOTES. if there’s ever been a more spontaneous fic in history it would be this… every sentence is write is purely self indulgent…. (genuinely a written version of the stories i make in my head while laying in bed)

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

It’s a fever dream walking into the Kingdom that, compared to yours, looks positively flourishing with life. Beasts of all kinds roam about, carrying on with their daily lives, oblivious to the winds of death they’ve swept your way.

Everything in your body feels as if it’s shutting down, unable to feel the sensation of your legs as you trudge forward, the younger, much kinder Beast ensuring you kept pace.

Freezing temperatures carry on the longer snow falls, gluing strands of hair to your forehead, blanketing your lashes while your nose runs incessantly.

In front of you now lies the castle, far grander than you could’ve ever imagined. Twin spires peek above the low-hanging clouds, stone columns towering above.

From your distance you spot two knights positioned on either side of the entryway, large armored helmets with hawk feathers adorning the ridges.

One knight stops your ascent, the light-haired man rolling his eyes profusely.

“Minho, this is important.”

“Important enough you’re bringing a Mage into the Kingdom?”

His voice smooth as honey, he sports a dominant tone when speaking. Stare observant, he watches the other Beast’s expressions with uncanny precision.

“Because if you haven’t noticed Hyunjin,” He leans forward a bit, whispering. “You have the entire Kingdom’s attention.”

At this, either of the Beasts who escorted you turn around, and upon doing so are met with hundreds, if not thousands of eyes boring into their soul. Whether it’s younger Beasts or aged soldiers, those heinous vermillion orbs seem to see through you.

You gulp.

“C’mon,” Hyunjin harshly beckons, nudging you forward through the gates with the younger quick on his tail.

Every color in the Palace is monochromatically grey, although strikes of royal blue reside in large drapes hung from perched balconies.

Similar guards to those outside sift throughout the room, familiar hawk feathers litter everywhere in sight, paving paths to the core of the room where a throne sits.

Pointed edges flank either side of the massive chair, the ocean blue rug underneath reflecting up and out of the ceiling — a glass design stretching wide across the throne room, emphasizing the dusky weather outside.

According to the younger Beast whose title you learned as Jeongin, the King was currently participating in a hunt with Changbin (the lead hunter of the Palace), so after hasty appreciation of the sheer volume of this breathtaking castle, you’re forced toward the dungeons.

Jeongin wears a pitying frown, promising to return with some food to your chambers in the case the King doesn’t arrive for a while.

At least someone in this Kingdom doesn’t insist you’re beheaded.

“Finally, somebody else is here.”

A voice erupting from the darkening depths to your right make you jump, chained wrists clanging abruptly. Through minimal lighting of the burning lamps hastened upon the walls, you make out the silhouette of a man, face bunching in a sweet manner when he smiles.

Unusually, his hands aren’t chained.

“What’re you in here for?” You begin, gaze narrowed in confusion. The chubby-cheeked stranger smiles haphazardly.

“I would ask you the same thing. I’m the King’s Advisor, he just gets tired of me and puts me in here sometimes,” Your chamber-mate sighs, and once you take in what he professed, the urge to laugh becomes too strong to control.

Laughing for the first time in quite a while is sort of relieving, especially when this new acquaintance of yours begins whining his dismay, aimlessly trying to hush your giggles.

Red eyes. You can see them blinking up at you, gleaming when he grins his pointed teeth.

Quickly pausing, you wait in horror as he gradually sniffs in.

Your stomach sinks.

“Wait… You’re a Mag—“

His phrase is cut off by a loud ringing noise, a familiar echo of keys tunneling down the dungeons stairwell.

Another stranger unlocks the door. He’s burly, with curly hair in disarray. Cuffs of animal fur wraps around defined biceps, his top a tight-fitted arrangement of fur and woven leather paired with small iron spikes studding the shoulder lining.

A scar passes down the corner of his lip, long since healed but remaining faded.

“C’mere,” He ushers, voice gruff and rumbling when he unlocks your shackles, big hand pushing you forward up the stairs.

If anybody here had pure Beast in their bloodline, it would be this man. His demeanor is rough, but his touch on your back is surprisingly gentle whilst guiding you upward.

Again you’re granted with the wondrous sight of the Throne Room in all its historic glory, although your gaze directed at the floor keeps you ignorant to so many heads bowed, so many voices cast to silence upon the click of footsteps approaching.

And when you look up, you meet strikingly blue eyes—perhaps a genetic mutation of a sort.

They’re stunning, enrapturing almost, and you find the need to break eye contact immediate, more dire than normal while staring down at you.

Plump, full lips and perfectly sculpted facial features seem that of a Greek god’s, too ethereal to exist in your reality. A glittering, silver crown sits stark atop a black nest of hair.

Either arm rests on the sides of the throne, and you swore you’d never seen someone look so, King-like. That, and the massive cape of wolf-skin draped over his back.

A devil, dressed as an angel.

“Your Highness, this Mage was found near the L/N Kingdom by Hwang Hyunjin and Yang Jeongin while scouting the territory.” A palace-woman announces, the same guard who lingered outside, Minho, standing to your side.

Your blood boils, disregarding every ounce of amazement once inhabited.

It’s him. The man responsible for the demise of loved ones you couldn’t count on all of your fingers and toes.

Minho, as if sensing your frothing rage, mutters through his helmet a staggered warning—remaining upright and unmoving at attention.

“Do not move and do not look into his eyes unless you’re asking for death.”

Your patience dissipates, lip twitching involuntarily.

You can’t remember the last time you were genuinely angry. You were happy, surrounded by people you loved.

Those people weren’t here now, they were killed.

“You murderer! You’re a—“ Your attempt at lashing out at the King stalled when Minho kicks the crevice between your knees, forcing you down on the carpet below.

“Monster! A bloody— fucking— Monster!”

Palace representatives gasp their bewilderment, some beckoning you away to the dungeons, others urging Minho to end you right here and now.

It wouldn’t matter, would it?

The King’s raised hand stalls the accusations, his familiar clicking footsteps nearing closer till he stands before you.

Shifting down into a squat, the man tips your chin up to meet cerulean again, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“Don’t get it mixed up little one,” He murmurs, the pad of his thumb controlling your movement.

“I did not kill your family. Your family killed themselves.”

Fist sharply winding around for a punch, he catches it before you can even register your predicament, iron grip strong enough you fear he might just snap your wrist in half.

“And I wouldn’t recommend fighting back, otherwise I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Concluding his threat the further he bends your wrist, you whine, face scrunching from the pain until he finally stops, amusedly surveying your expression.

Denying your own enraged shaking, you suck your teeth, focus vehemently pinned onto him.

“Why would you care about my safety?” You snarl, trying to wriggle his hold off to no avail.

“Because,” The King cocks his brows. “I like you.”

About to spit another word, he interrupts you, index tracing the veins of your arm.

“Plus, I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.”

You shiver.

Your second day and you feel as if you’re officially going insane.

The only person tolerable here is Jeongin, that chamber guard whose name you don’t know, and Felix, the castles cook. You barely see the King, and even when he’s present he’s usually quartered in his study.

What he does there remains unknown, information learned in the mere form of startled maids leaving the room and gossip among those wandering the Kingdom.

“Do you know what he does?”

Felix looks up from the dish he was laying in front of you, wispy blond locks bouncing with the movement.

“Does what?” He piques, ridding a stray piece of hair clinging to your sleeve.

“The King, what does he do all day long?”

One thing about Felix you love, his honesty. Regardless of if most would tell a quick fib and flee, Felix, although occasionally working around a topic, takes the time to actually explain things to you.

Allows you to learn more of the place you’re going to have to call home.

“Hm..” He pulls a chair from your right to drop into, and for a moment, you see Ms. Maewether in that smile of his. Your heart aches.

“Chris— I mean, King Bahng is always busy. He plans trade agreements, oversees the hunts, and basically keeps this castle alive.”

Chris?

“Who’s Chris?”

Felix nearly squeaks, burying his head in his hands. Evidently, you weren’t supposed to hear that part, but an eagerness to know more about this solitary King kept your hesitance at bay.

“That’s his name. Christopher Bahng, but you’re not allowed to call him that and not allowed to tell anyone about us having this conversa-“

“Tell who?”

You quite literally almost fall backwards in your seat, failing to anticipate the pair of hands placed on Felix’s shoulders.

A pair of hands, followed by a pair of ocean blue eyes, boring right into you and the horrified boy in front of you.

King Bahng. In the flesh.

“Oh.. Hey Chri— Hello Your Highness.”

Again he corrects. These two must know each other.

“Tell who, Felix?” He speaks, tone nothing short of teasing—though the boy looks just as startled, practically sweating through his clothing.

Still adorning that flanking wolf-cape of his, his dark hair is slightly messy, expression distorted curiously.

You hate him to admit, but King Bahng is horribly attractive.

“Nothing! Nothing at all, Your Highness,” Felix chirps, fixing you with a ‘Don’t say a word’ glare you cease to argue with.

Rising up from your seat quickly as if you had any duties in this Kingdom to tend to, you find yourself stalling.

You have so many questions. …And the overwhelming urge to slap him across the face.

You’ve received a fair warning on the latter.

“I’ll be off now, Your Highness.”

The last words come out involuntary, used to referring to your own father this way. It made you sick to know you regarded his murderer the same.

And though the King didn’t stand extremely tall (considering how young Beasts were already your height), his hulking stature felt as if it could swallow you whole, pointed canines flashing when he smiled, sending your head reeling.

Pleased.

King Bahng was pleased hearing something nonthreatening come out of your mouth.

Vile.

Yet, you simply curtsied and hurried off, ceasing to notice the immediate growl Felix directed in the King’s direction.

“Good lord, I know she smells good but you’re practically undressing her with your eyes,” The freckled boy grumbles, returned with an uninterested expression from his friend.

Before the King can head off to whatever meeting he has planned, however, he spins on his heel.

“Have you consulted Seungmin about the scent-blocking salve?”

“Possessive, are we?”

His glare shuts the cook up immediately.

“If there is one Mage left, it’s mine. And since she’s the survivor, she’s mine.”

Yeah, he’s not beating the possessive allegations. But if he’s going to gain your trust, and eventually, after much thought, become mates, he’s keeping every other Beast in the Kingdom at a distance from you at all times.

“Jeongin will report when it’s completed. And Chris?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t expect her to warm up to you.”

King Bahng hums.

“I don’t.”

And with that, Felix follows your exit, leaving the King to his own devices, your nectar-sweet smell lingering in his nose.

“If I stare at the same wall for hours and hours, shouldn’t it break by now?”

“You’re a Mage, not telekinetic,” Han replies, repetitively scanning over a piece of parchment assumed to be a guest list.

In the midst of your incessant boredom, you found yourself following the King’s Advisor around, peering over his shoulder at the endless list of haughty names written in languid ink strokes. 

Amongst them, you ceased to find your father’s name. You knew it wouldn’t be there, but somehow, you wished if you blinked enough it would magically appear. 

King L/N, written in that same, cursive font. 

Rounding a corner, you conclude if there’s anyone you avoid more than King Bahng (a.k.a Chris), it was Hyunjin. That man was a serpent in a Beast’s body.

Catching sight of his dreaded ponytail, you hastily retrace your steps, hiding behind a massive doorframe while Han stares at you as if you’re a rodent scurrying at his shoes.

“He won’t bite y’know.”

“If only you would’ve been there when he first found me,” You whisper angrily, practically clawing at the wood desperately till he leaches you out.

Leaching enough, in fact, that you end up right in Hyunjin’s line of sight, who surveys you up and down with a cocked brow to the point you’re sure steam is billowing from your ears. 

Mocking. Ruby-red, mocking eyes.

He does bite. He sinks his teeth into the flesh and tears. 

You won’t bleed without biting back. 

Han’s iron grip tightens on your arm as slowly, oh so slowly, Hyunjin walks closer. 

The strategist prowls, edging right up in your face—noses a thread-width apart.  

His glower sets your fury alight, lips curled in a deriding notion.

“No need to glare, wouldn’t want wrinkles ruining that face of yours.”

“No need to get so close unless you plan to kiss me, mutt.”

Though, just as Hyunjin preapres to lunge, a big hand holds him back, animal fur cuffs indicating it isn’t the King who stepped in.

The man who had fetched you from the chambers earlier divided either of you. Shorter, but evidently stronger. 

“Control yourselves, both of you. For as long as she stays in the Kingdom, she’s The King’s property—“

“I am no one’s property,” You snarl, and the guard turns.

Basked in clear lighting, you can finally see him. Honing dark brown hair hanging above his eyebrows, the same scar resides by his mouth, though, his eyes are much kinder than you expected.

Taking a slow inhale, he reads your conflicted expression like an ornate mirror.

“One mage in the Kingdom of Beasts? Sorry to break it to you, but yes, you are his property. So as long as she’s here, nobody lays a finger on her, understood?”

Glancing to each person, either of them ease their apprehension, the bewildered Jisung next to you stifling a breath, Hyunjin rolling his eyes with a loud huff.

Baiting seconds pass, and in that period of time do you realize you never caught his name. Specifically, the guard’s name.

“Excuse m-“

“Seo Changbin,” Han interjects. “His name is Seo Changbin.”

Ah. Right.

Now on the roster of least-likely to kill you, Jeongin, Changbin, Felix, and Han.

Filled with a need to evade, you stand merely as a spectator as each horridly red hue snaps to stare at you, your heart spiking an alarming rate. 

The King’s Advisor’s fingers tighten to the point you’re sure he’s blocking blood flow.   

“You need to leave. Jisung, get in contact with Seungmin and see when the salve is done,” Changbin instructs, already shoving Hyunjin away.

Salve. What salve?

Failing to give you any explanation, you’re dragged off, boisterously complaining before the highly annoyed man abruptly pauses, finger nudging your forehead irritably.  

“You smell.”

Then he leaves, and you’re left to wonder if you’re still in primary school or the Kingdom of Beasts.

You smell? What’s that supposed to mean?

First thing in the morning, you’re torn from your slumber with a blazing sun scorching your eyes.

Your canopy beds silken drapes doing little to block the attack, you whine to an apologetic Jisung who merely sighs in return.

“Sorry sleeping beauty, but we have an appointment to attend this morning. Can you handle getting dressed on your own?”

You roll your eyes, groggily pulling yourself upright. “I was an heiress, not helpless.” 

To which he cracks a miniature grin and slips out the door, allowing you to hurriedly strip off your chemise and messily arrange your stays and petticoats.

Out of all things you’d been deprived of, a part of the L/N Clan unable to be divided was your garments.  

Somewhere, in the midst of fabric and citrus scented soap, you swear you can still smell bits and pieces of home.

What this appointment entailed you failed to ask, gingerly hustled down winding hallways barely illuminated with sunlight. 

The Kings Advisor expertly winds further and further down, georgian architecture littered in symmetrical golden portraits and decorum, casement glass windows twinkling as you walked past. 

Having reached a dead end, you’re pleasantly surprised to watch Han jar a brass doorknob open, paving a breathtaking view of the garden ahead. 

Garden had to be an understatement. This amount of foliage was nothing short of a forest. 

Flowers of all kind surround your walk to a shrouded greenhouse, abnormally brick relative to it’s stone-castle counterpart. Its walls are overgrown in slithering vines, door nearly invisible without proper inspection.

Jisung, having noticed your amazed expression, chuckles.

Granted, it’s been years since you’d seen any form of green vegetation, your astonishment felt justified. 

“We’ve arrived.”

Oh how you wish to stay here forever. Not captive by the Beast Clan, no, but in this garden, hidden.

And if the last door took effort to pry open, this was a new challenge entirely. Through thickets of dense hedge and tangled branches, Jisung had to quite literally ram himself into the chittering wood for entry.

“Knock next time would you?” A voice projects from inside, belonging to a man clad in rounded spectacles, a slightly hooked nose, and cleanly hair parted to the side. 

The Kings Advisor, apparently having known him, beams his prize-winning smile upon seeing the man.

“Seungminnnn—“ Han drawls out, excitedly waddling over to wrap him in a crushing hug. Stiffly, Seungmin pats his back, an action you fondly watch from afar. 

“Ah!” The more ebullient of the two springs up, turning to you. “This is Seungmin, he runs the apothecary here.” 

Nodding stiffly, Seungmin ushers you to one of the many mahogany chairs circling a gateleg table; a vase—likely jade with its pale green hue—filled with indigo hydrangea presides in the center.

“And,” Han’s outburst cuts off your awe. “He’s practically my little brother.”

Now you’re in awe again, but for a different reason. And by the evident frown on Seungmin’s face, he can tell.

“Shocking, right?”

Yes, shocking for certain.

Though, before you can reply, Han slaps his hands on either of the man’s shoulders, expression transformed into one of seriousness. 

“About time I left then, yeah?” Was spoken while his form hurriedly retreated out the door, leaving you with more questions than answers to what just occurred.

“..He forgot something again.”

Biting back your laugh, you finally take a seat, given ample time as Seungmin shuffles off to the side to acknowledge your everything to its fullest extent. 

Matching the plant-infested interior, verdant drawers scatter the corners, a lone, looming medicinal cabinet left ajar as the chemist poured over a variety of assorted concoctions. 

Air stained with a damp smell of earth, you notice, much to your curiosity, the longevity of such a place.

This apothecary, though inside the castle, feels like an entirely new settlement of its own. An establishment existing before the war, rebuilt (inefficiently) enough to where it was only required to stand stable.

From first sighting you’d grown an attachment to it, but this newfound understanding, these newfound details setting the apothecary apart from your predicament let you imagine yourself anywhere else, back to a nostalgia you longed for.

A short term fix.

“This.” You’re handed a phial from overhead. It’s a slightly green substance, thicker in texture that rests heavy in your hand. “Is for you.”

Slipping across from you, he surveys your analyzing, arms crossed over a deep brown waistcoat.

“And this is..?” You inquire, looking up from the cork-sealed glass.

“A salve. You had better not waste it, material is low as is and I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.”

Well that didn’t answer your question. You’ve heard conversation about a specific salve for days on end, but no genuine explanation caved in—

‘I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.’

Repeatedly mulling over the words, you can practically feel your heart palpitating, head beginning to spin. 

..End already? The endless winter.. ending?

“So you’re saying,” You murmur, placing down this special salve in order to truly regard him.

“There’s a way to end the Endless Winter?”

His brows crease critically, seemingly sarcastic.

“There’s an end to everything sweetheart. Life, death. Start, finish. War,” He meets your eyes with a conniving grin, a face you hadn’t seen on the man before.

“Peace.”

Automatically, you roll your eyes. 

Peace? Peace when there was no peace left to be made, no kingdom remaining to make peace with?

“And how do you think the nonexistent Mage will make peace with Beasts?”

Seungmin grins.

“Well there is a Mage left,” He scornfully states, flicking your forehead whilst you palm the sting, frown evident. 

“And as far as making peace goes, marriage.”

Marriage. 

What.

“Wait- so you’re telling me big bad King Bahng could’ve just hooked up with a Mage and called it a day and everything would be fine?”

Seungmin clears his throat.

“One, Bahng doesn’t ‘hook up’. Two, it’s not as easy as that.”

Of course it’s not as easy as that. Why would it be?

You wish to claw your eyes out of your head, anticipating his explanation. 

“Because if you weren’t aware before, marriage ties between Mage and Beast are very difficult to establish. Bahng is picky on everything, and even pickier when it comes to mates.”

But before you can argue there were thousands of suitors roaming the L/N Kingdom for him to pick from, Seungmin interrupts. 

“Plus, if anyone else were King I’m sure we would’ve had peace decades ago. You’re lucky you’re in the castle right now, otherwise you would be eaten alive.”

Your face scrunching worriedly, he rakes an exasperated hand through his hair, plopping down on the vanity’s chair.

“Your scent.”

Again, you’re reminded of Han’s ‘you smell’ comment. Why is it showing up a second time?

He groans frustratedly, wordlessly praying you understand.

You don’t.

“Mage have specific scents. You can’t smell it since you’re not Beast. But let me tell you, you smell fucking delightful.”

Oh.

That’s what he meant by eaten alive, and the entire ‘you smell’ conundrum.

Seungmin, rather entertained with the shock written on your face, shrugs his shoulders, nonplussed by the crassness of his earlier statement.

“Now you get the use of the salve, right? And why you’re not allowed to leave the castle?” 

Your mouth feels dry of response, beckoned toward the exit without so much as a peep passing through your lips.

However, right as the you’re halfway gone, he stops you, brows cocked.

“Do us all a favor and marry him, will you?”

And like that, the apothecary’s door thumps closed behind you.

If only the “him” he was referring to wasn’t King Bahng, you might’ve agreed.

Marriage in the L/N Kingdom had been a sacred event.

An event you’d been prepared for since childhood, fed daydreams of a day you would be married to a prince-like man with perfect features and a perfect personality, every element fabricated from a young age.

Truly, you loved it. Loved visualizing a life shared with your loved one, whoever that man would be.

Little did you know he might just be King of the Beast Clan.

No. You refused. Marrying a murderer, the murderer of your family, was the last thing you would oblige to. 

He sent the command, he led the attack, and you’d rather die than give him the satisfaction of marriage.

Although, one problem. Similar to life back at the L/N Kingdom, supplies only lasted for some time before shipments became low, and pretty soon (according to Seungmin) the salve you were given would run dry. 

Meaning, your meager chance of protection lay completely exposed, susceptible to any Beast daring enough to try something.

Two sides of a coin remained. Heads, you marry the murderer of a King and spring returns, or tails, you abstain and are eventually left vulnerable.

You’ve always been the person to confront a difficulty head-on, but, in this case, a different, defensive approach crossed your mind.

Run away. 

Despite Seungmin’s sensible reminder to not leave the castle, what other option sounded suitable? 

Die physically or mentally, pick your poison. 

Or maybe, never drink the poison in the first place. Evade.

Three days have passed since you received the salve, and after applying it behind your ears and between your elbows at dawn, you were free to do as you pleased—within the castle walls. 

Yet, tomorrow’s dawn would be divergent. Tomorrow, you would be days away from the Beast Clan. 

Sneakily roaming around, you managed to find certain outlets to your disposal. Nearby the chambers you’d been kept in was a moth eaten, hooded cloak seemingly unworn for quite awhile. Ideal for an anonymous escape.

Furthermore, amongst the colloquy during a dinner with Changbin and Felix in the Great Hall, you distinctly recall overhearing information about the stables.

If you were to flee, you needed a horse, and thanks to the guard, you knew right where to find one.

Unable to sleep the night before, your dry eyes blink through the dense darkness, sweeping the candlestick from your side table for a minimal source of vision.

Lathering a copious amount of salve all over your skin, you slip down the winding stairwell, grateful for the shadowed moonlight gazing down upon the Throne Room as you venture.

Bingo. There’s the cloak.

Sweeping the fabric over your shoulders, you slip the hood over your head, creeping down the steep steps leading into a surrounding ward.

On your left, across the butcher’s vendors. 

Blindly searching, the whinny of a mare alerts your close distance, carefully winding through lead ropes and linked fences to the first horse in sight. 

You have to be fast, the sun will rise at any moment it pleases, and it’s impertinent you’re gone by then.

Hoisting a mere saddle pad over the back, you deem the saddle too noisy, slipping the reins overheard and adjusting their length accordingly. 

Jogging forwards, you’re brisk to gain a running leap atop the horse prior to the thunder of hooves charging forward.

Closer to the gatehouse you near, a luckily open drawbridge allowing easy passage across. 

Faster, faster. You can’t afford to slow down. Daylight is beginning to peer above the horizon, warming your back with rays of sunlight amongst a snowy landscape.

And when the kingdom wakes up, it’ll be as if you were never there. 

But, an undecided factor stayed. Where would you go? There was no kingdom left for you, no home to go to.

For now, you needed to prioritize finding a hiding spot, if only for a night, that supplies warmth.

Given the opportunity, too long out here and you or your horse will indefinitely succumb to the frigid conditions.

Veering off sharply, you sidle beneath a barren magnolia tree, its thick trunk barely blocking the unforgiving wind. Pretty soon you’ll have to keep on, but for now, you’ll savor the temporary peace.

Blue skies indicate it must be nearing morning, and you assume the castle will be slowly waking up. By now, King Bahng would likely be awake as well, you’ve been told he doesn’t sleep well anyway. 

Scouts. He’ll send scouts most likely. Knights like Minho or Hyunjin.

Ugh, the mere thought of Hyunjin finding you a second time makes you nauseous. 

Except, the longer you consider it, King Bahng is the worst case scenario.  

I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.

Those words send an entourage of chills slithering up your spine, and not from the cold.

Because while Hyunjin is a type of spiteful strong you want to avoid primarily due to how annoying it is, King Bahng is a quiet strong, the kind that wouldn’t confess his anger, but have you witness it firsthand instead.

Enough thinking. You have to go. 

Using the bumpy roots below you for leverage, you wind a leg around the horse’s back, aiming to reach the edge of the territory before midday.

That was the goal, until you’re pummeling to the ground.

The moment is instantaneous, your horse releasing a shriek as it’s swiped right off its feet, slipping onto hard, icy ground and simultaneously crushing you in its descent. 

Almost like vomit you feel the screech of pain building in your throat, a numbness in your right leg along with the warmth of blood soaking your clothing doing little to sustain level breathing.

Then, in the midst of your hysterics, you look upon the visible side of your horse, a pair of claw marks scratched right across its stomach.

Scrambling out to the best of your abilities, you bite your tongue, praying this is one of Hyunjin’s sick, sadistic games and not an obvious ambush.

You refuse to die like this. You’ve survived once and you’ll be damned to give up now.

“I’m impressed. You’re not as weak as I thought.”

A sneering tone speaks from behind you. According to the claw marks, Beast, but not one you remember. And with your current state—being unable to rise to your feet—you’re utterly incapable of ascertaining an identity.

Instantly, your hand reaches up to trace the alcove beneath your ear and neck, any ounce of hope disappearing upon feeling for the salve. 

Gone.

“Now, care to tell me what a Mage is doing in Beast territory?”

He’s hiding behind you on purpose, drawing you into a sensory overload, a panicked frenzy of adrenaline and fear. 

Deer caught in headlights. 

A curved claw unlike those in the Kingdom of Beasts winds your head back, staring straight into the face of something you can hardly deem Beast, more like wolf.

He has this terrifying look in his eyes, and breath that stenches of metal and flesh.

This man is the kind of Beast you’d grown up believing in. Violent, merciless.

Minho, Hyunjin, hell, anyone. Please. 

As if second instinct, you assess everything around you, snatching the closest stick to you and jarring the sharp end through the bottom of his chin with all your might.

A gagged, sort of howling sound emits from above you, putrid-smelling blood spraying all over your face. 

In split seconds does another form appear in your peripheral, your dread heightening before ultramarine stills the horror in its tracks.

King Bahng. 

He’s quiet, expertly slicing the back of the neck, the attacker dropping to the ground motionlessly.

“I could’ve handled it myself.”

It’s a lie. He doesn’t respond.

If the first Beast hadn’t killed you, he certainly would. He said it himself, whenever he pleased, he could break you.

So when King Bahng’s arms extend toward your position on the ground, you prepare for the worst, crawling backwards as quickly as possible.

Surprisingly, he kneels down in front of you, and, as your vision clears, you notice the concern written on his face. 

Weird, the feeling compiling in your gut as he looks at you like that. The way your eyes build with tears, lungs finally hacking for as much non-congested air available without a single word said.

Just by his expression alone, you’re a fit of blood and tears, the aftershock hardly helping ease the experience. 

Crying, in the middle of a forest, with King Bahng as a witness.

“I know, I know,” Is all he whispers, and you barely recognize when he hoists you into his arms, the searing sting of your leg your only indication of movement. 

Smoothly maneuvering you again his chest, he cradles your body close, one hand directing his horse as you ride back to what you assume to be the Kingdom. 

Through the aching pain, you can’t even be upset about returning, merely focusing on the subtle warmth of his body and the strength willing you to say something. 

“You speak nothing of this moment,” You murmur, the King’s body erupting into a tremor of laughter. 

“I speak whatever I like whenever I like, sweetness. No one touches what’s mine, yeah?”

Mine. You hate the effect he has on you. 

Yet, your snarky remarks are depleting in tandem with your energy; the soothing, shushing sound he’s making and the repetitive thump of hooves doing little to keep you from sleeps tempting beckon. 

Eyes drifting closed, his tightened grip pulls you closer, your cheek smushed into the fabric of his coat whilst lost in slumber.

“Hold on a bit longer for me, we’ll be there in no time.”

Recovery, to your luck, is swift. Either that, or Kim Seungmin is secretly a Mage, because within a week spent off your leg, you’re back to normal. 

A little sensitive to weight, but overall, healed.

Initially, despite the agony blazing through your body, you were thankful you barely recalled seeing anyone, swept into the apothecary immediately. 

The last thing you wanted to see after returning would be the faces. Plus, what about your friends? Jeongin, Felix, Han? You’re sure they looked destroyed. 

Except, it’s all fake. A feign kindness given to you only by sympathy. What do the faces matter anyway? 

You gorge that question to the very back of your throat when said Cook walks through the apothecary’s door, utmost apprehension apparent. He grabs your face, brows knit—but not in an angry sort of way, more like staving-down-tears. 

“Don’t you ever do something like that ever again.”

Past him, you can’t help but smile seeing Seungmin’s softened expression watching Felix, adoring his preciousness just as you are. 

“I promise.”

Nodding curtly, he turns around, leaving you to view the many ingredients scattered across his apron. 

He rushed here, cute.

“I’ll bring breakfast down here.”

Craning, you can barely make out his deep voice, lowered to a nearly inaudible decibel. Ears flushed pink, you’re filled with a worrisome amount of happiness seeing Felix’s embarrassment trying to maintain an upset facade.

“Hm? What was that?”

Ah, at this point you’re picking fun.

“I said I’ll bring breakfast down here.” 

Precipitously slipping outside, both you and Seungmin are left to stifle your bubbling laughter, graced with the most appetizing platter you’ve had the pleasure of eating a few minutes later.

However merciful those first few days were, dissipated. And in a short amount of time, you could feel the eyes boring into your back, the questions resting on the tip of tongues.

All the same, nobody mentioned it. And if anything, that made the paranoia grow. 

It was gradual. The subtle shadow you swore you saw in corners, the terror stopping your heart in your chest when you swear someone breathed down your neck. 

Your body may be healed, but your mind certainly isn’t.

To a degree that two weeks later, you’ve found sleep nearly impossible, lingering in the kitchen in the wee hours of morning, teetering on your wits end.

Some occasions it’s Felix who you see first, wiping the sleep from his eyes, loading coal into the furnaces to heat the kitchen for the day. Other days it’s handmaids, shuffling around busily, carrying goods to and fro.

This time, Minho arrives first, for once wearing regular clothing opposed to his usual armor, steaming saucer in clutch. 

Perhaps this is an opportunity, he is a knight after all.

“Hey Minho?”

Tired eyes sweep to your figure on the table, the rim of his cup held to his lips.

“I’m too paranoid and at this point I might die of sleep deprivation,” You huff, referring to his raging, bed-headed self . “…Could you teach me how to use a sword?”

He’s staring at you like you‘ve grown two heads, pulling a chair back to settle in, arms crossed over his chest. 

No sentences need to be said aloud, merely spectating the gears turning in his head enough to set your nerves on edge. 

Yet, in the midst of your waiting, you note a peculiar bruise peeking from his collarbone, another lingering a tad bit lower. 

“And you think a sword is going to protect you?”

The question is genuine, lacking the bemused nature you were expecting.

Another thing you’ve noted throughout your sleepless nights was the continuous amount of times you’d watch the King’s Advisor sneak into his quarters, a realization keeping your response baited.

Seems his love life isn’t a concern.

“Hey, those marks on your neck and shoulder, are those from Ha—“

“When do you want to train.”

All lightheartedness vanishing, you have to chew your lip to avoid ticking him off further by giggling.

“Tomorrow?”

Pushing in his chair with an agreeable hum, you merely whisper a hurried “Thank you” he grunts at, rushing off to who knows where and giving you leeway to recover from the hilarity of it all.

Tomorrow, however, came far too early, not anticipating to be woken up at the crack of dawn, grumpy enough the prospect of blackmailing the King’s Advisor became dangerously tempting. 

Yeah, good luck. He’s not budging until you’re on your feet. 

Seems you underestimated Han Jisung’s stubbornness.

Rushed into a loose gown, you’re led to the Inner Ward, an open sector in the middle of the castle. 

Upon being met with a too-smug Minho, you can practically see the word “payback” hovering above his head, busying himself with fetching supplies.

Perhaps this is karma coming back to bite you.

Ouch.

Except, you’re puzzled. You’re being taught how to deul, yet your teacher isn’t adorning armor nor gear of any kind.  

At your confusion, the knight chokes a cocky guffaw.

“First, we learn how to properly move.” He hands you a wooden sword. “If I so much as leave a scratch on you I’m as good as dead.”

Again, he may appear snarky, but his tone is nothing short of serious. Minho is hard to read.

Wait.

Seeing past your panic, the Beast seems to answer your unspoken question.

“King Bahng is visiting the villages today, he won’t be back till the evening.”

A wave of relief grounds your bones, standing rather pathetically while Minho aids in critiquing your position, instinctively shifting into his own in front of you.

“Now, there are a lot of things to consider when dueling. I’ll narrow things down. Don’t overestimate or underestimate your opponent, trust your gut, be aware of everything, and lastly, do not be afraid to deceive.”

Promptly, he’s lashing out before you can even process his advice, wooden weapon drawn above his head as your grip tightens, attempting to block the strike only for his foot to press into your stomach, sending you falling right onto the ground instead. 

“Isn’t that unfai—“

“Like I said, deception is your greatest weapon. In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.”

He reaches a hand out for you to take, helping you back up again only to both fall back into your stances. 

“Keep in mind, your sword isn’t your only weapon.”

Minding his instruction, you continue onward, sparring heartily till the beating afternoon sun becomes too hot to bask in any longer. Amongst the four hours you had been consumed in training, you’ve snagged certain valuable points.

Calmness is crucial. Your mind streams clearer when you parried, void to the opponent’s increasing frustration—given an advantage of both agility and focus. 

Two, unpredictability is a gift. Minho is especially good at being unpredictable. 

Whether he charges headfirst or aims the forte of his sword toward particularly weak points, you begin to mimic his performance, growing closer and closer to conquering those signature tactics.

Of course, your enjoyment can only last for a bit before it spoils. 

Spoiling as in, Hwang Hyunjin’s random appearance, sauntering into the area as if he’s King himself.

“Well look at this, didn’t think I’d see our runaway and Minho here.”

There’s an air between Minho and Hyunjin, one that forbids Hyunjin from egging his superior on, just like when you were first brought to the Kingdom. Lucky for you, you could be degraded as much as he approved of.  

Feigning a dramatic gasp, he gestures to either wooden sword held in raw palms.

“No way, you’re learning how to deul?! Don’t tell me you’ve never learned basic attacks? Oh right, you never had to fight, huh, princess?”

You bite the skin of your cheek, minding your composure.

“You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.”

Now he’s asking for it. 

“Say,” He sneers. “Let’s duel.”

Keeping Minho from intervening, you apologetically nod to his disproving expression. He knows it’s stupid, even while fetching his armor and adjusting the metal plating to your body, and you do too, but you can’t afford to back down, you won’t.

Testing your abilities carrying a legitimate sword this time, Minho grants Hyunjin a terse scowl, their own wordless agreement to tone down on anything too harmful.

Somehow, it grates your nerves further.

Straight away, he charges his right foot forward, the metal colliding with a loud ring, narrowing your body to shield your unprotected side.

Hyunjin, though skillful in his wrist mobility, clearly uses his size compared to you as an advantage, carelessly throwing around his jabs whilst relying on form alone.

You shuffle back and forth continuously, the commotion of metal rifle drawing the attention of Beasts alike throughout the castle, stopping their movements to survey.

Lurching himself forward once more, you will your legs to support you, balancing the crushing force of his pushing ascent with as much strength as possible.

“If you win, you get whatever sensible award you want,” He grits, using pure weight alone to gain higher vantage. “But if I win, you marry King Bahng.”

Suddenly, interrupting your stunned reaction to his proposal, Minho’s reminder breaches your eardrums.

Deception is your greatest weapon.

Honestly, you’re bewildered Hyunjin hadn’t played petty thus far, and you have no doubt he will any moment now. 

You can’t afford to waste the opportunity.

Maintaining your gaze targeted on his face, you steal the chance, slipping your sword right beneath his feet, hooking the guard just fast enough to cause his legs to buckle. 

The tip of your sword centimeters from his neck, you cock your brows, finding satisfaction in the glare he’s boring into your skin from his spot on the ground.

In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.

“If King Bahng wishes to marry me, he will deul me himself. That decision isn’t up to you.”

Stalling his immediate laughter upon nudging the sharp point right up against his pulse point, you chuckle.

“I might have to do this more often, you’re not bad when you shut your mouth for once.”

Dropping your sword, you reach out a customary hand he rejects, either of you following Minho to the side stalls to return his armory before a haunting voice stops you in your tracks.

“One more match?”

You’d been ignorant to the Kingdom’s sudden burst of energy, the trembling chains of the drawbridge dropping onto cobblestone ground, the gates shifting open. 

Having appeared through thin air stands King Bahng, constantly arriving at the worst of timing. 

He’s clad in traditional armor, though his has fancier plating, cleaner sheen, azure hues hidden within the gorget.

Your stomach ties itself into a knot, piecing together the details.  

“If this is about the deal, I don’t think I-“

“Oh please princess, this was never up to you. We did this for the sake of the Kingdom, you think we ever considered your say in this?” Hyunjin interjects, quickly escorted away by a frowning Minho and an additional guard you don’t recognize.

Huh?

What… What is he talking about? For the Kingdom? What does he mean for the sake of the Kingdom?

Do us all a favor and marry him, will you? Seungmin’s words ricochet in your skull, the parts assembling perfectly into place.

But if I win, you marry King Bahng.

Marriage. 

They knew all along. They knew you were set to marry him and yet, no one told you.

If your betrayal had been violently inflicted, you would look like a rag doll. All this time, these moments you thought were glee-filled, hopeful.

Lies.

Tearing the King’s chance to speak from his fingertips, you pick up your sword, denying your shaky, white knuckles and replacing those broken feelings with rage instead.

No, you can’t afford to show weakness. You must replace these feelings as quickly as possible. 

No weakness, no mercy. 

“Fine, let’s duel.”

“But-“

“Pick. Up. Your. Sword. And fight me.”

Releasing a sigh, he cautiously pulls his own sword from its sheath, waiting to be counted off unlike Hyunjin.

However skillful you’d been before had completely vanished. Though, you would give yourself the benefit of the doubt, this fight meant your future, meant the minuscule bit of freedom you’d gotten to experience here.

The last thing you wished was to realize you had been lied to, but even more so to realize you’ve been lied to in front of the entire Kingdom, curious faces peering from the castle’s allures.

Your swings sloppy, you credit the severity of the blows as you attack and defend, evidently dueling with fatal intent.

You’ve lost this battle, you know it. Your senses are too overwhelmed to assess spatial awareness, and every muscle in your arm cries out for relief. 

Swept off of your feet in a repeated cycle to earlier, you accept, sitting below the tip of King Bahng’s sword, your defeat.

Almost automatically, the pieces of pride you’d attained after your victory against Hyunjin amounted to nothing. 

You may beat everyone else, but you will never beat this man, now matter how hard you try. The odds will always soar in his favor, and you will suffer the results of it.

This is not a game you’ll win. Because from the beginning, you existed as a marionette, enjoying such naivety till the comprehension as to who controlled the play hit you.

This theatre was particularly unforgiving.

He won.

If your insomnia before was grueling, this was an entirely new extreme. 

Averaging a meager two hours per night, you’re positive you’ve memorized the guest list by heart, staring blankly at the crinkled parchment, unblinking.

In a matter of days, the congratulatory ball will be held. 

You’ll be attending said ball as the bride.

Weeks ago, the guest list had simply been a past time, a mandatory errand for the King’s Advisor, a ball you weren’t aware, and wouldn’t be aware, was meant for you.

Your chest feels.. sad? Empty? 

Yes. Empty is the word. An emptiness gutting you from the inside, the ugly drawback of exhausted options and worthless optimism.

There’s a lot of things to ponder on as well, factors you have to analyze, ensure it wasn’t another stage for an audience you so foolishly performed.

No escape. 

Tuesday, two days before the ball, Jeongin drops by your door, carrying a package under his arm and that effortlessly adorable smile gracing picture-perfect features.

“This is for you, from.. um..” The anxious boy stammers, placing the binded package on your room’s veneer. 

“You can say his name, Jeongin, I’m not mad.”

He exhales audible relief, slender fingers wrapping around your hand before you can bid him farewell.

“He— The King, he’s a good person.”

You force a tight grimace, agreeing despite your contradicting expression.

Perhaps he is, perhaps he isn’t. You don’t know what to believe anymore.

Slipping from bed once the young boy’s footsteps fade in the distance, you gingerly unwind crimson ribbon, allowing the leather exterior to unfold. 

Inside lies a gown.  

A gown that, investigating how breathtaking it is, should be considered nothing short of a ball gown the longer you stare.

Designed as a mantua, the white fabrics paired with lace neck frill and engageantes add an elegance you’ve never seen before. Light, subtle blue hides beneath ruffles of the skirt, further accented by equally blue lace strings fastening the back together and outlining the seam of your square-cut stays.

You can only marvel at the gift given by your future husband, wishing so terribly you could simply run into his arms and pretend everything was well. 

If only it was under better terms, as if nothing had happened. If King Bahng was another man, it’d be possible.

And Wednesday night, the root of your problems bares his face, knocking at your door while you were under the impression it was Han instead.

Acting as if you didn’t care was much easier around everyone but him, especially when you were halfway into tying the laces of your dress, the dress he had purchased for you.

What awful circumstances.

“Don’t touch me,” You hiss, regarding the man across from you with a frown.

Lifting either hand in the air, he seemingly invites you to figure out the impossible strings yourself, cueing a very aggravated, very futile attempt at tightening the ties of your ball gown before (hesitantly) allowing the man to slip behind you.

Of course you had to choose now to try it on.

His touch irritably careful, he ensures the fabric is snug fitting but breathable, each woven thread in its coordinating pattern.

Where he learned this you have no idea, only aware of how horrific this close proximity is, your restlessness growing unbearable.

Running his tongue over his top teeth, he backs up slightly, taking you in with apparent speechlessness.

He clears his throat.

“I won’t apologize because I know it means nothing to you, but please, let me explain. I intended to tell you, I just-“

He sounds timid, like a child.

A sour, bitter fury froths like bile in your throat. You want to explode. 

“No. No. I didn’t want this! I won’t!” You wind around, pointing an accusing finger to his chest. “You killed them all, my family, my loved ones, children. I hate you. I hate you!” Your voice breaks, a gravelly, disgusting drawl raking your throat raw. Salty, burning tears drip down your collarbones.

Grievance. An innumerable stage of sadness you hadn’t reached before now, overflowing.

As he tries calming you down, you only grow angrier, pushing from your path to the door, ripping the handle awry.

Instantly, his arms wrap around your middle, hauling you back as you kick and scream, fingernails digging into any available skin, dress puffing as your legs flail.

Catastrophic.

“No- No!”

You’re certain the entire kingdom can hear you, but that’s the last concern occupying your headspace, too focused on escaping, far off as you had done earlier, anywhere but here.

“Stop crying,” He commands, either hand on your wrist pinning your back to the bed, expression morphed pitifully. His calloused hand swipes the storming rivulets from your cheeks. 

“Please, Y/n, please stop crying. It hurts.” 

Your response shortens into a simple sob, aching.

“It hurts..?” You murmur, eyes shifting over his face. “…You hurt?”

Incessant crying causing your skin to burn, he only blinks at you.

A fit of anger forms just as fast as it disappeared in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re hurting? You’re the sick son of a bitch that killed my family and took everything I’ve ever loved away, you don’t deserve to hurt!”

Sucking in a necessary inhale, you angrily flail, wrinkling your nose at the careful tilt of his head, the distance of his face from yours, every scar, every pore close enough to see.

What happened to the King who threatened to break you? Why is he pitying you, looking at you with such kindness?

Longing to bring up how useless the deal was, how the benefits of the marriage aren’t your responsibility, you simply glare, emotions a whirlwind you can’t explain, can’t say aloud. 

And all he does is stare. Staring like you’ve said nothing at all. 

You want to cry out, want to curse him for all eternity, curse those blue eyes that seem to pave a pathway through your soul.

But you don’t. He beats you to it.

“..Do you know why my eyes are blue?”

What?

“Because I’m not fully Beast. My mother was a Mage. She turned against my father after I was born, left us, and vowed to do everything in her power to destroy Beasts.” 

Your face contorts nonsensically, his tight hold on your wrists loosening the longer he speaks.

“And I assume,” He redirects your head, forcing you to maintain eye contact. 

Rearing deja-vú reminds you of your first encounter. 

“No one ever told you Mage’s started the war.”

You scoff.  

“Or that the Mage planned to cut off all trade supply simply out of spite. And so, I did what I had to—“

“You did what you wanted to. You killed helpless people because of your own problems, my family had nothing to do with it!” Vocal cords throbbing the louder you scream, you try kicking your legs to no avail. 

“Your family, Mage, had everything to do with it. My people would have died-“

“Mine already did. So now what?”

A minuscule pinch occupies his brows.

“You weren’t supposed to be alive.”

“But I am, so you might as well let me join them.” 

He sighs, a stray, obsidian strand of hair hanging over his forehead.

“You know I can’t do that.”

You test the words on your tongue, wedging your hand out to grab his face, feeling the dip of his jaw as he sucks in a breath.

When you first met, he had told you he’d break you. This change of heart confuses you, grates more anger in your chest.

“And why is that?”

Opening his mouth, he momentarily closes it, then opens again, contemplating the statement with caution.

He’s right, in some way. 

You’re not supposed to be alive, not supposed to be saddened. You were meant to be in the ground with them, be one of the many bodies littering the L/N Kingdom, granted an eternal sleep. 

Yet, you aren’t. 

You survived, and you despise this man with every fiber of your being for that.

But things cannot change. You can’t bring them back, and his situation is just as painful as yours. 

You both lost people, or, would’ve lost people.

An explanation or an apology, as he said, isn’t necessary.

So you’ll get what you want, tangibly.

Forcefully grabbing his chin and jutting him closer to you on the bed, your voice drips with venom, noses mere breadth apart.

“Then end this winter and marry me, Your Highness.”

For a split second you swear his gaze drifts to your lips, but you shake the thought away, his sharp canines glinting off the mirrors reflection. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one to propose?”

“You killed my family, no need for formalities.”

“Care to remind me why you agreed to marry him? Weren’t you planning to kill him?” Felix piques, apron woven around his thin waist, skillfully measuring flour that’s dusted over his nose.

You needed to get your anger out, then devise a plan. Show King Bahng you weren’t going to succumb to his charms, tricks. Ever.

You hum from your spot on the counter, conversing just as you’d done back in your kingdom with Ms. Maewether. 

Technically, he was your new Ms. Maewether.

“Oh no, I still plan on killing him, I just want something first.”

Except, you didn’t talk about murder in front of Ms. Maewether. That was new.

He raises an eyebrow.

“And what would that be?”

Snapping your fingers, you cheerily tap your heels against the cabinets below.

“I want to see spring again.”

Silence overcoming the kitchen, it takes Felix a full minute to understand your preposition before bursting into unadulterated laughter. Well, until he realizes. Then he pouts.

“Aw, I was really looking forward to seeing Chris rejected at the altar.” The smaller Beast whines, popping a piece of sugary sweet dough his mouth and handing another to you.

“Hey, now that’s just cruel,” You mumble, muffled by the delicacy you’re currently chewing on.

“According to you yesterday, not really.”

Ah. Right.

“We just… have a lot to talk about.”

The phrase sounds stupid, but it’s true. Logically, emotionally it’s true. There is a lot in need of discussing.

For now, you’re indifferent.

“I’ve always thought you two were similar.”

The cook’s outburst catches you off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve always wanted to protect what mattered to you most, and maybe, one day, you can understand why he did what he did.”

Leave it to Felix to be your reasonable opinion.

Nevertheless, an invisible barrier rests between you two. A lie. His lie. The Kingdom’s lie.

“Felix, I will never understand why he did it,” You humorlessly chuckle, hopping from your spot. “So tell me, why did you lie?”

All morning you debated the right time to confront him. Tonight was the night, the congratulatory ball, the wedding. Why wait? 

Freezing with his back turned to you, he stops mid-slice, dropping the knife atop the cutting board and gradually facing you. 

Oh Felix.

His nose flushed pink, lips quivering, you allow him to race forward and hug you, head tucked into your shoulder while you stand there, motionless.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It was decided from the start, but we were told not to tell you, not until King Bahng told you himself.”

You want to tell him it’s okay, make some jokes, act like things are normal. Though your arms stay glued to your side.

“I guess Hyunjin beat him to it, huh?” 

His arms tighten around you and, with a sigh, you pat his back, gently nudging him off of you where you can hold that sweet face of his.

“But don’t worry about me, alright? I can handle this, and I forgive you, so let’s move on from this, Lix.” Tenderly rubbing the skin of his cheek, he meekly smiles, an action you can’t help but feel relieved seeing.

You’re strong. You have to be strong. For Felix, for Han, for Jeongin, for your friends throughout the Beast Clan, you’ll be strong. You’ll enjoy wearing the gown regardless of who bought it for you, cherish the wedding no matter the man you’re wedded to.

If you’re going to have to live like this forever, you might as well make the most of it.

On today’s occasion, you’re dressed by a hand maid sent to your quarters, polished and puffed to perfection by the time five o’clock arrives and the banquet officially begins.

And when you see yourself in the mirror, you’re not exactly sure who stares back at you. 

She’s pretty, yes, but she isn’t Y/N. She’s a Queen, the Queen of the Beast Clan.

Your stomach wrenches.

By tomorrow, you’ll be married. Married to King Bahng. You will be a wife, the wife of a King just as the L/N Kingdom intended. 

The thought continues to plague your mind, sucking more and more oxygen from your lungs that as you’re escorted to the ball room.

You can hardly inhale and exhale normally as Changbin, whom you appreciate enormously, walks you down the aisle, past an abundance of people you’ve never seen before. Beasts, business men, acquaintances alike.

Sensing your panic, your linked arms allow him to spare you a meager glance you anxiously return.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine. 

All previous calmness long dissipated, when you finally redirect your attention from your feet and take in King Bahng waiting at the altar, your rampaging anxiousness increases tenfold.

As the audience claps and either of you turn with your backs facing the crowd, you scorn your lack of a poker face when the King rests a hand on your back.

“Breathe,” He utters, only a whisper you heard. 

Wishing to thank him, you bite your tongue, considering the man you’re referring to in the first place prior to replying.

A sharp nod of your head is enough.

Stifling an exhale, you spin on your heel, both bowing to the public before facing each other and holding hands, an action that shouldn’t cause goosebumps to swarm your arms, but does anyway.

“You plan to smash my face in at our wedding?” He murmurs below the customary vows, acknowledging your fingernails digging into his hand.

“Keep giving me ideas and I migh-“

The retort vanishes when he presses his lips to yours, doubling back in shock before his palm on your back keeps you close.

Granting you breathing room if only for an instant, a slow grin tugs at the edge of his lips. 

“Then before I die, let me have this first.”

And he dives right back in again, kiss surprisingly tender compared to what you’d expected. Something bruising, dominating.

Instead, the King was soft. Soft as he held your cheek in a hand, soft when pulling you in by the waist.

Separating if only for a fraction of a second, you reach to hold his face, every instinct beckoning you to push him away dissipating into nothing but the nullified drone of your head and the insistent racing of your heartbeat.

“Are you that nervous, pretty? Your heart is-“

You pull him to your lips once more, hating how easy it is to forget, how his lips numb your thoughts—though unable to get enough.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

The guests hollering in your peripheral the lone sound breaching your eardrums, you can’t help thinking. 

He did this for his people just as you would’ve done. As for the Mage instigating the war, some secrets shall remain hidden, unable to be answered. You have to accept that among many things. 

The King has done nothing but care for you, and as much as you resent him for it, you respect him, if only a tiny bit, as well.

He’s irritable, and not to mention annoyingly handsome. His sympathy-filled eyes might be the death of you, and those dimples of his are stupidly lovable.

But he’s your husband, and somehow, strangely enough, you don’t find yourself hating the thought as much anymore.

Not when he holds you, and especially not when he kisses you as if it’s your last.

After the many hours spent celebrating, you couldn’t have been more enthusiastic about returning to your quarters.

Joined by King Bahng, you find traversing as easy as ever with the help of the (half) Beast behind you, helping navigate past multitudes of people, oddly comforting touch on your back guiding you through the hallways.  

Arriving at your room, he pauses, awkwardly shifting his weight on his heels, bewitching gaze flitting left and right, uncharacteristic to his usually smug attitude.

“…Was the kiss too much?”

King Bahng, asking if his kiss was too much?

You wanted to photograph this moment in your mind forever, debating on whether you should tease him about it, egg the normally stoic King on. 

However, you tip his chin down, pressing a chaste, soft peck to his lips, amusedly observing him freeze before melting into your touch.

“Could be better.” 

He huffs a sigh in response, and you’re left wondering if this is the same man who threatened to break you, the one who now looks like a pouty toddler.

Although, just as you slip by, he takes ahold of your wrist. 

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You crack a smile.

“Good night Chris.”

And, suppressing your chuckle, you close the door behind you.

Hastily undressing into nightwear and slipping into bed, you stare up at the ceiling, hours passing from the ticking of a clock in the corner, echoing around the room. 

Then, abruptly, your door creaks open.

“My gods, what are you doing here?” You whisper into the darkness, the door creaking behind his crouched form, King Bahng’s crouched form.

“I needed to see you.”

Ah. Don’t say things like that. 

Pulling the covers further over yourself, you squint accusingly at the man as he enters, silencing your urge to reprimand he saw you mere hours earlier, presumptuously sitting opposite to you. 

He scans what’s visible, fixating on your hand for a moment.

“You kept the ring on?”

Noting the gleaming jewel on your ring finger, you can’t help but feel slightly bashful. It’s not like you’re really married, but the thought sends a sort of satisfaction spreading throughout your chest. 

“If I take it off, will it become winter again?”

He grins, giggling childishly. 

“Is that the only reason?”

Debating on your response, you wet your lips, looking back up at his barely distinguishable face shrouded in darkness.

You have no doubt he’s thriving off your hesitance. 

Oh how badly you wish to wipe that look clean, but in reality, keeping the ring on feels as if a part of you from your own kingdom is with you, similar to your old clothing.

The part of you that, if not invaded, would belong to someone loved, newly wedded.

“No,” You mutter, though the phrase is barely audible.

He perks up.

“Hm?”

You regret saying that. But he’s already heard, there’s no use lying aimlessly.

“I said no, that’s not the only reason.”

“Care to tell me the other reason?” 

Rapidly averting your attention to your hand, you discover speaking is easier when not looking at him. 

“Keeping it on makes me feel like I’m really in love. I like imagining that, being married.”

You miss the sad lilt crossing his face.

“We are married.”

Without missing a beat, you meet his stare.

“Are we?” 

Unlike before, there’s no waver to your voice, no caution. 

Winding around to your side of the bed, he settles beside your feet. 

You clear your throat.

“I wanted to see spring again, and to you, I’m simply a present. A playtoy to your disposal. This isn’t marriage, not how I was taught, this is just a business arrangement.”

Nevertheless, the hurt leaks into your voice. So long to a resilient tone. 

“Y/N, don’t do this to me.”

Come to think of it, it’s the first time he’s ever called you by your name apart from last night. 

Having had enough of his nonsense, you spring for his collar, dragging him below you on the bed. Opposite to earlier, you’re on top this time, you’re in control.

“You don’t deny it.”

A silence passes.

“I would deny it a thousand times, but you wouldn’t believe me. And I don’t blame you for that.” 

He sucks in a breath.

“I only ask you don’t doubt this marriage. This isn’t a business arrangement, and I will treat you with as much respect and love as possible, even if you don’t want me too. That is what marriage is, how I was taught.”

It’s your turn to inhale, lost within the confines of this dark space. 

“Chris, do you love me?”

You both have people you love, people you want to protect, wanted to protect. It wasn’t his intention to hurt you, not when he found you after you ran away, not when ordering a salve to keep you safe, nor now, as you lean above him. 

Like he told you. You weren’t meant to survive. You were supposed to be peacefully asleep, forever. 

This man, this Mage, this Beast, is as much a murderer as your savior. You choose how to condemn him. 

“I do, more than you could ever imagine.”

How can you stay mad at a guilty man, a man who kept you alive when you were on the brink of death? Who now professes to loving you, wanting to give you a marriage you’d been cheated of, give you everything you’ve been cheated of with everything in his power. 

Hovering right by his lips to the point your chests touch, you place a miniature kiss there.

“I hate you, so much.” 

Then another kiss.

His arms, wrapped around your more elevated form, drag you down in an embrace. One hand presses your face to his shoulder, another rubbing circles on your back. 

“And I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, sorry.”

Raising up, you can’t contain the tremor of your lip, the way your eyes shakily close shut as you steal a third kiss from his lips, a kiss he returns, hands carefully holding each side of your face.

“Chris?” You manage, currently straddling his lap, his body resting against the headboard. 

Kindly, he keeps a palm against your lower back, helping you balance.

“Can you show me what it means to be loved?”

You never understood how a person could melt until this moment. He wears that look again, like in the forest. The look that makes you cry.

What love looks like for Christopher Bahng, you don’t know. You have no doubt there will be ugly moments, moments you’ll reconsider, rethink. 

You’re both hurt, some wounds still hurting. But for him, for you, you’re willing to take that chance.

“I’d be honored.”

FIC TAGLIST. @stayceebs97 @duhgirl @yourgirljanvi @readr1221 @spearbinnie0327 @hyunjinsartpeice @cheesytangerine @palindrome969 @luminouskalopsia @kiaralynn3838 @chrizztopher97 @starlost-andfound @weeping-angel-in-the-tard1s @zaggprincess2

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[desi2go]

Prince and Princess

part one -- part two

pairings: Prince Bang Chan x princess reader

Warnings: forced marriage, royalty au, strangers to lovers, slight angst

summary: When your parents engaged you with the prince of a neighbouring country, you flee. On your way you meet a handsome man...

Being a princess wasn't easy. Sure it had it's peaks. The beautiful dresses, never having to worry about anything and so much more. That's what you thought growing up. What you didn't realised that you lived in a golden cage with gold, power and everything you could wish for.

You were used to all the attention from a young age. The people in you land always turned their eyes to you. As a child, they loved seeing you by the side of your parents, even if it was just in a carriage. You always had multiple duties and that from the beginning. However, as a child, they were less noticeable and while growing up, they became more and more visible. You used to think that the big castle was a symbol of your freedom since you loved to run through the huge corridors. But it changed to a big cage in your eyes. You were always under the strict eyes of your parents, not letting you do something that you liked even if only the staff would notice it. It was your personal cage and you were the lion, the biggest attraction, running from one site to another without escaping it.

From the beginning you were born, it was clear that you would marry someone with importance and wealth to bring honour to your family. Therefore, love wasn't relevant. Especially, since your older brother was next in line to become king. You had hoped that your parents would give you more time, time in their cage without a husband that wouldn't love you. A marriage would just draw more attention towards you and a new cage would imprison you.

It was this morning where they introduced you to the news that they have found the perfect husband for you. He was from the neighbouring country and was three years older than you. He was the prince and because of that extremely wealthy. All your parents ever wanted. His name is Prince Christopher and they told you that yesterday, he asked for your hand and in exchange he would give them money.

You had hoped that a marriage would be far away in the future but hearing that someone wanted you as a wife made you anxious. Fortunately he wasn't an old man and just three years older than you. But still, you had never met him. He could be cruel and treat you badly.

But you wouldn't let it take that far. You decided to take your destiny in your own hand. At night, you grabbed a bag with food you had stolen earlier and a brown cape from your brother. Dressed in a plain brown dress, the simplest of your dresses, you climbed out of your window. You knew exactly when the soldiers would change the shifts and took the opportunity to climb up the wall, shielding the castle from the outside.

With quick steps, you ran through the night. You needed to get as far away as possible. The maids would find your bed cold in the morning and it wouldn't be long when the soldiers were commanded to search for you. You just paused for some minutes from time to time. You would sleep a bit when the sun was rising.

Around the afternoon, you finally let yourself rest for longer. You just entered another forest and you realised that sooner or later your food will run out. You really needed to go to the next market on the next day.

Walking through the forest, you tried to avoid any streets as best as you could. By all costs, you didn't want to get recognised from anyone. It was the next morning and it was already hot. The sun shone through the leaves of the trees and you hummed to yourself. You loved the nature, it made you feel free. Something you barely felt in the castle. Of course, sleeping on the ground was no comparison to the huge bed that you owned but you were willing to trade it against a life with freedom.

Branches cracked and at first you thought that it was just a dear but just seconds later, a horse came crashing through the woods. A man sat in the saddle, wearing simple armour and a black cape. His dark hair was lightened by the sun. His horse stopped in front of you. Judging by his plain armour he wasn't a soldier, especially not from the palace.

"Good morning, miss" he said, jumping off the horse to kiss your hand like a gentleman. However, he doesn't seem to recognise you.

"Good morning as well" you answered. His curious gaze observing you and eying you from head to toe.

"What do they call you?" He asked with a friendly smile, while patting the shoulder of the horse.

"Nevermind what they call me"

"You shouldn't be this deep in the forest alone" he stated.

You chuckled. "I'm not alone, I'm with you. Mister... What do they call you?" He was sweet when he returned your smile, his eyes sparkling with joy.

"You don't know who I am? That is... They call me Chan" he answered.

"Well, then nice to meet you, Chan" you said with a smile.

"So, do I get the pleasure to know your name?"

"I'm Y/n" You liked how he looked at you. All your life you were used to the same ways how people look at you. They are envious or angered for not living in wealth like you. But Chan was the first person to look at you like you weren't a princess. Like you were a living human being and not just a figure your parents could push around.

"Y/n, a beautiful name to a beautiful lady" he practised your name, his cheeks and ears turning red as he flirted with you. And you found it absolutely adorable.

"What are you doing in the forest?" He added.

"I'm just wandering around. What about you? You don't seem like a normal villager." You tried to distract yourself from the blush that crept up your face.

"I'm hunting." he exclaimed and held his bow higher. Right, that made sense, he is a hunter.

"Then, you might know where the next village is?" you asked, fiddling with your cape.

"Of course" he grabbed the rein of the horse and signaled you to follow him. It was nice that he showed you the way. He filled the silence with a comfortable conversation, earning from time to time a laugh from you.

♕✯♛

An hour and a half later, you reached the next village. It was small but extremely beautiful. Luckily, there was a market where you could purchase some food. By that time, you had already figured that you had crossed the border to the neighbouring country. They all eyed Chan respectfully with a smile.

However, the hunter still accompanied you, leading you to the best stand in the whole market, like he said. After buying something, you sat with him on a wooden bench, munching happily the food. Calm, you observed the crowd of people, pushing themselves to the dedicated stand.

Then, you noticed to figures, they were soldiers with the emblem of your royal family. They definitely searched for you. In panic, you jumped up, gabbing your stuff.

"What are you-" Chan couldn't even finish his sentence when you pulled him behind one of the stands. He came crashing down on the ground next to you, looking at you like you were crazy.

You observed the crowd once more and the two soldiers were still there.

"Are these soldiers searching for you?" Chan asked as he followed your glance. When you didn't answer he continued. "They are from the other country! Wow, what did you do to the royal family that they are searching that drastically for you?"

"Did you murder someone? That's why you were so deep in the forest!" He exclaimed. Before he could say more, you silenced him with pushing your hand on his mouth.

"Stay quiet!" you whispered. His lips were warm and even though you tried to prevent it, you blushed slightly. You felt his warm gaze on you. But you looked over the stand once more, unfortunately to the wrong time. One of the soldiers saw your face and pointed to you to show his mate.

"Shit." You mumbled, throwing the hood of your cape over your head, and running into a smaller street.

"Y/n! Where are you going?" Chan yelled behind you. It didn't matter where you ran to, just away from the soldiers. You followed the street, turned left into another one. Unfortunately, it was a dead end. That was it, there was nowhere you could go.

"What is wrong, y/n? Why are you running from them?" Chan's concerned face was pushed into your field of vision. You were still gasping for air due to the running. But you heard the steps loud and clear. You couldn't fight your destiny.

And then, they stood before you. It was like you faced your past, the silver armour sparkling in the sun.

"There you are, princess! Your parents have been worried sick." They walked towards you.

"Princess?" You heard Chan whisper. It was clear that he was hurt. Of course. He didn't know who you were. You didn't turn around because you didn't want to see his face fall. "I'm sorry, Chan" you mumbled and followed the soldiers.

♕✯♛

"What were you thinking young lady! Someone could have recognised you!" Your mother scolded. You stood in the throne room, your parents sitting ahead of you on their throne, staring down at you.

"What would your fiancée say? The honour of our family rises or falls with your actions. And you will marry him, there is no other way" your father added. Of course, they were just worried about the honour, not about you. Well, maybe they were but the throne and their reputation was way more important.

"I'm sorry" you mumbled, just wanting to get this over fast so that you could enjoy the last day here in your room alone. Tomorrow, you'll be on your way to your future husband, to his castle.

"You should be. Go, and pack your last things together" your father demanded. You nodded and left the throne room, walking through the numerous halls to reach your room. It was almost empty, the maids already packed most of the things, just the bed and a book that a friendly maid sneaked in.

Your parents hated it when you read. In their eyes, women shouldn't read literature because it made them too powerful. In the royal families, women are just important to bear children and to make sure the bloodline will continue.

In your eyes it was bullshit. When your husband dies and the children aren't old enough to reign, the wife will lead until the oldest takes over.

The next day, you just sat in the carriage, looking out in the wilderness. You would give anything to be out there again. Your parents sat in front of you, chattering about the upcoming wedding, your wedding. It will be the biggest event of the year.

Luckily, after your wedding, they will return to their palace and leave you alone. Then, you just had your husband that will disturb your peace.

It was like a journey into the unknown. You knew nobody there and even your husband was a stranger. In Addition, you didn't know anything about the life in a marriage. Your parents just told you that you need to consummate the marriage whatever that meant. But you'll know soon.

Exactly three day later, you arrived at the palace. It was huge, even bigger than your own. You were content to finally get out of the carriage. Your parents were annoying and a carriage hadn't much place to avoid them.

They were the first to leave it and were already greeting the royal family. With one last deep breath, you stepped out gracefully, all the eyes on you. The beautiful red dress fell around your legs, fluttering in the soft wind. You bowed respectfully to king and queen before turning to your future husband. When you locked eyes, your breath hitched. The stranger wasn't so unknown. It was Chan.

You froze, still don't believing who stood in front of you. Your mother coughed lightly, pulling your out of your rigidity. Quickly, you bowed to him. He took your hand and placed a tender kiss on it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, princess y/n" he greeted, his voice still the same, yet he looked completely different. That was who he really was. Not a hunter, he was prince Christopher.

"The joy is all mine, prince Christopher" you emphasized his name. In his eyes sparkled something else, maybe regret?

The next two hours were spend setting up your room. You're not going to lie, it was beautiful, twice as big as yours in your own palace with a huge balcony.

A knock interrupted you. Slowly, you opened the door, already knowing who is behind it.

"Hello prince" you greeted him while doing a curtsies.

"May you want to join me on a stroll through the garden?" He asked, his eyes wandering through the room.

"Of course." You followed him through the palace out to the massive garden, a chaperone always behind you. The way there was plagued with silence, uncomfortable for both of you.

With your hand, you brushed over the gorgeous flowers, distracting you.

"I'm sorry for not telling you" He whispered. Bluntly, you answered. "Why? I was a stranger. I had no right to know"

"Listen, y/n" he grabbed your hand so that you couldn't turn away from him. "You had every right to know. I - Sometimes, I like to keep my identity hidden. It gives me some sort of comfort"

"I understand. I don't like the attention either." You replied, quietly enjoying the warm skin on your cold hand. "You're cold. May we go inside?"

You just nodded, letting him guide you back in.

♕✯♛

The following day, your wedding day, you woke up early. Well, your mother with the maids teared you from sleep. She wanted that you looked stunning and perfect for the biggest event of the year. With great precision, they arranged your hair in an extravagant updo, putting every single strand of hair the way they were pleased.

Hours were spend on dressing you in the big fluffy dress made from the finest silk with the most expensive gemstones. It was beautiful but constrictive. You are glad when this is finally over. The shoes were uncomfortable and the makeup felt heavy on your skin.

You were brought downstairs, waiting for the right moment to walk down the aisle. The throne room was filled with important people from different countries, mostly royalties or noblemen. You heard the chattering while the small orchestra played. A bouquet of flowers was placed in your hand and the doors opened. Every person watched you walking down the aisle, you felt their gaze on you but you concentrated on Chan. He looked absolutely handsome in his pompous suit, his hair perfectly styled.

You grew more and more nervous the smaller the distance between you and your new life got. You stood next to him when the priest spoke about marriage, you didn't listen to him, completely zoned out. "Prince Christopher Bang, will you love, respect and protect Princess Y/n? Will you also swear eternal fidelity to her, then answer with yes, I do."

He looked you deep in the eyes, took the ring and gently put it on your finger.

"Princess Y/n, will you love, respect and protect prince Christopher? Will you also swear eternal fidelity to him, then answer with yes, I do." You took a deep breath before you replied with a Yes, I do.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife" Tenderly, he grabbed your hands before pressing a soft kiss on your lips. It was short and sweet, his velvety lips felt good on yours.

The people cheered and you blushed, remembering where you were. Hand in hand, you walked into the huge ballroom where you would celebrate, the guest following you. The room was filled with laughter. Your husband roamed through the crowd, speaking with the guests. You stood by the food, occasionally stealing small bites. You always hated events like these. Especially the men would follow you like dogs, asking for your attention due to your high standing. Luckily, you were now married so that most of them feared to come up to you.

It didn't take long before the first couples started dancing to the orchestra. You knew that you needed to dance at least once to keep your mother content. And Chan already came towards you, asking for a dance. You took his hand, letting him lead you to the middle. You knew the steps, it was something your mother had teached you from a young age, still, you were nervous. His hand felt hot on your waist, even through the fabric of the dress.

Steady, he lead you to the rhythm of the music. The whole time, you stared on his chest, not trying to keep eye contact.

"Everything alright?" He whispered into your ear. "I guess so" you answered. "You hate attention and crowds, right?"

"Yeah, is it that obvious?" He chuckled. "Only a bit."

"You don't seem to care the attention"

"Well, I'm the crown prince. I grew used to it and once I'm king it will be even more" That's right. He was the crown prince, meaning that you will be queen one day.

After your dance with your husband, your father took the chance to dance with you. Then, many men followed his example. Due to the horrible shoes, your feet hurt. You already wanted to flee from the dance floor when Chan's father asked. He was a great dancer like his son.

"I'm content that you will be on my son's side from now on" he starts a conversation, letting you twirl. "I'm honoured, great king. But why, when I'm allowed to ask."

"Chan most likely overworks himself. He doesn't need just a wife to reinsure that the bloodline will continue. He needs someone who takes care of him" you were shocked that he answered you so truthfully. "I'll do my best"

"I know that. That's why I chose you. And I'm content to consider you a part of the family"

When the event came slowly to an end, your mother pushed you in your room.

"Alright. It is time to consummate the marriage. Bring honour to the family" she said. The maids freed you from the dress and shoes. You sighed, now your a little bit more comfortable.

"What do you mean with consummating, mother?"

"Just let him do. He'll know. But it's important to consummate. Otherwise the marriage isn't fully complete." They opened the updo of your hair, letting it fall to your shoulder before brushing it through. Then, they put it up again and dressed you in another dress, a light blue one that fell to the floor in gentle waves from the waist down.

Your mother lead you out of your room down the hallway, stopping in front of a door. "Remember, do not bring shame on us" she whispered before she left. With a shaky breath, you knocked on the huge wooden door. Shuffling could be heard from the other side and a muffled "Come in".

Slowly, you entered the room. It seems to be Chan's bedroom. And it was huge. The room was lightened with the fireplace, turning everything into a yellowish colour. Chan sat on an armchair, flipping through a book. The pompous suit was replaced with a white chemise and comfortable linen trousers. He looked up when you stood beside him, fiddling with your fingers.

"I'm here to consummate our marriage" you mumbled, observing the fluffy carpet. He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"I know"

He guided you to the bed, jumping on it and letting you sit next to him. It was awkward and uncomfortable. He grabbed something from the side table, something you couldn't make out due to the low light. Just when he flipped the thing, you noticed what it was. A dagger, a small but sharp dagger. Terrified, you pushed yourself to the edge.

"What are you doing?" You shrieked. He chuckled before pushing his chemise higher to show his free underarm. "You don't have the slightest clue what consummating means, right?" Chan placed the dagger on his arm, applied pressure and cut through his skin. He moaned in pain and held the cut over the white mattress. The red blood dropped from his arm on the mattress, a strong contrast to the white.

"What are you doing?" You asked again. You couldn't turn your eyes away from his red underarm. He threw the dagger on the side table, picking up a bandage.

"I faked our consummation. What else do you think it is?"

"I don't know. Why did you fake it?" Carefully, he bandaged himself.

"Because we are not ready yet. It should be fun and done out of freedom and will, not because of the stupid consummation. You don't even know what I'm talking about." He sighed, switching off the oil lamp, turning the room nearly completely dark.

"Lay down, y/n. I'm not gonna force you to do anything that you don't want. Having sex is something where both parties should have fun, not just the man" Obedient, you layed down next to him.

"What is sex? Is this what consummating is about?"

"Yes, it is. I'll insert myself into you. That way you'll be able to get pregnant" Even though it was dark, you could still clearly see how red his ears were. It was cute.

"Thank you" you mumbled, letting you slowly relax and enjoy the warmth that Chan radiates. Carefully, he draped the blanket over your figure.

"Good night, y/n"

"Good night, Christopher"

♕✯♛

The next morning you woke up when the wooden door banged open with a thud. You shot up, looking with big eyes into your mother's. Just then you noticed that Chan wasn't sleeping next to you. He must have got up early.

Your mother shoved the warming blanket to the side, showing you a pleasant smile when she saw the red stain upon the mattress. "I'm proud of you" she said and brushed over your demolished hair. Quickly leaving the room.

You sighed and let yourself fall against the mattress again. The ring on your finger shone in the morning sun, it was beautiful. You couldn't believe you were married, that you had a husband. And as it seems a really thoughtful one. Hopefully it stays like that because then, you didn't mind to spend your lifetime with him.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | March 18th-24th 2024

It's a long one today folks! I hope you enjoy! :) If you know anyone who's not tagged, don't hesitate to let me know!

idk 'bout you but I can't wait for the final part of the premiere on Thursday!!! 😃

Complete

anything that is beautiful, people want to break. by dylaesthetics (Post-Coma, Trans Buck | 3K | Teen): Buck has never meant to keep it a secret from the one-eighteen. Hell, he trusts them with much more gritty, uncomfortable stuff than that. It’s more like… It hasn’t come up. There’s been no reason for it to come up. But then he gets struck by lightning and the mix-up with his medical records happens. A nurse he hasn’t seen yet barges into Buck’s hospital room, with his entire family in it, blood and found alike, and stares at him for one dumbfounded moment before blurting out a name he hasn’t been addressed by in well over eight years. 

not flesh and blood but the heart by Jinko / @jinkohhh (Post-S6, Getting Together | 10K | Explicit): Five times people assumed Chris was Buck's son + one time Eddie confirmed it.

🔥 don’t wanna let you love somebody else but me by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (S7 Spec, Bachelor Party, Pretend Relationship | 14K | Teen): or, chris wants dating advice and it turns out taking your best friend on a pretend date to practice being as romantic as possible is not a good idea in theory or in practice, considering the pesky being-in-unrequited-love of it all

A Little Bit of the Bubbly by Jinko/ @jinkohhh (Post-S6, PWP, Getting Together | 7K | Explicit): Since turning 30, Buck's relationship with champagne has changed. It also manages to change his relationship with Eddie.

washed away (but not) by Jinko / @jinkohhh (S7 Spec | 3K | Teen): “Well, this is awkward.” Every part of Buck wanted to tell Chim to go fuck himself, but he couldn’t, so he didn’t. Nothing made a situation more awkward than pointing out the awkwardness of it. “So which one of you two made the deathbed love confession?” Ravi laughed, and frankly, Ravi could go fuck himself, too. The both of them could go fuck themselves because both Chimney and Ravi were correct.

i like the way you scratch my itch by oklahoma/ @sunshinediaz (BTHB: Hives | 3K | Teen): Buck’s big blue eyes sparkle. “You’re so cute, did you know that?” he asks, leaning close enough Eddie can count the small red-brown-orange freckles all across his nose. “Even when you’re red from poison ivy.” Red. Red from the poison ivy. Yeah, yep, that’s exactly what he’s so red for. Absolutely.

meet you in the middle. by dylaesthetics (Getting Together | 2K | Teen): OR buck and eddie get their shit together during a regular friday movie night at the diaz house.

🔥 Even in Winter There is Eranthis by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels / @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Hades/Persephone AU | 45K | Explicit): Buck is supposedly a god. Supposedly. But he's got no idea what his domain is or what role he plays in Olympus. When he meets Christopher, a young boy lost and trying to find his father, he helps Chris get home - and ends up accidentally binding himself to the Underworld. Now bound to Eddie, the god of the dead, Buck must spend half the year with him in the Underworld while winter reigns above. But even as something grows between them, there are still trials to endure. Just because the gods are not mortal... does not mean they cannot die.

🔥 My Blood on Your Skin (My Rose on Your Snow) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Mythological AU, BDSM | 80K | Explicit): When Eddie needs cash and fast to take care of Christopher, his LAFD Academy buddy suggests a job as a bouncer at Elysium - an exclusive sex club in downtown Los Angeles. Eddie doesn't care what goes on there, so long as he's paid, but he finds he cares a lot bout the club's enigmatic owner, Evan Buckley, and it's not long before the two of them are violating every boss-employee rule in the book. But there's something different about Buck and the club, something not quite... human. If Eddie wants to keep Buck, he's going to have to delve into the world of immortals, and all the risks that implies.

and check out the amazing podfic!! 🔥 My Blood on Your Skin (My Rose on Your Snow) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea)/ @rhea314

hold tight, you’re slowly coming back to life by bucksclipboard/ @excuseme-greentea (S7E01 Coda, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Eddie runs into Natalia at the grocery store. He learns something about her and Buck’s breakup that gives him the final push to take care of his own complicated love life.

🔥 miracles under your sighs and moans by napricot (Sex Pollen, PWP | 21K | Explicit): When Eddie gets exposed to an experimental aphrodisiac on a call, he realizes there’s only one person he trusts to help him get through it: Buck.

Touch Me and I'll Scream by rogerzsteven/ @rogerzsteven (BTHB: Unhealthy Coping Mecanisms, Established Buddie | 5K | Mature): At his low, Buck uses rough sex as a way of self harm.

in another life by bellabrady (Coma AU | 2K | Not Rated): Or: Buck's in a coma and dreams of a life where Daniel never died and he never became a firefighter.

Locations by rogerzsteven/ @rogerzsteven (BTHB: Vomiting, Drowning | 4K | General): In which Buck drowns.

I was born to take care of you by Beulaugh/ @if-music-be-the-food-of-love (Getting Together | 3K | Mature): Buck has a revelation at work and then promptly falls on his face. Eddie Diaz's ass: 1, Evan Buckley: 0

hold the silence. by dylaesthetics (Post-S6 | 3K | Teen): OR while looking for clothes to donate, Buck stumbles upon the shirt he was wearing when Eddie got shot.

Tomorrow we can drive around this town by lamardeuse/ @lamardeuse (S7 Spec, Drunk Eddie | 4K | Mature): If Eddie had been sober, he would have realized it wasn't something to be happy about. But drunk as he was, it had the blood singing in his veins, because Buck was going home with him, not Tommy. Tommy could go fuck himself – or you know, anyone else who was willing, but not Evan Buckley. Because Eddie was a pathetic, sloppy drunk and his best friend had a responsibility to make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit or drown himself in the bathroom sink.

sang to the sea for feelings deep blue by Tizniz/ @tizniz (S7 Spec, Cruise Ship Emergency | 14K | General): God, he hopes Buck got out. That he isn’t trying to get to Eddie. That he gets to go home. And not just because Christopher needs him, although he does since Eddie is fairly certain he’s not making it home this time. He doesn’t let himself dwell too long on that thought. No, Eddie wants Buck to go home because he deserves it. Because Buck deserves to live. Because Eddie needs him to live.

you've got game by browney3dgirl6/ @hoodie-buck (S7E01 Coda, Established Buddie | 1K | General): a silly little late night conversation about chris being a 'ladies man'

take this life and make it yours (take this heart and let it love again) by Maira/ @carrierofthepaperclips (Canon Divergent, Post-Coma | 31K | Mature): Before he could second guess it, he’d dialled Eddie’s number and listened to it ring in his ear. As soon as he heard the click of the connection, he said, “Eddie, what the hell, man?” “I meant what I said. I don’t know who you think you are, but call this number again and I will contact the police.” . . . or, the one where Buck finally figures out he's in love with Eddie, only for things to not go as planned. At first.

if i bleed, you'll be the last to know by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (S7, Hurt Buck | 6K | Teen): buck gets stabbed while out on a run and then... doesn't tell anyone about it. eddie loses his shit when he finds out, they have a moment in the kitchen and they kiss.... not necessarily in that order.

Baby, take me by 42hrb / @exhuastedpigeon (S7E01 Coda, Getting Together | 4K | Explicit): “Same thing,” Eddie nuzzled him, stubble scratching even more as he moved his face. When he stopped nuzzling, he pulled back far enough that he could see Buck’s face. “I said stop thinking.” “Kinda hard to turn my brain off.” “Pretty sure I turned it off just fine last night,” Eddie said with a smirk that went straight to Buck’s cock, already half hard just from the way Eddie’s stubble is dragging across his skin. “Is that how I get you to stop thinking?”

when you call me yours by browney3dgirl6/ @hoodie-buck (Established Buddie, Proposal | 5K | General): Buck starts calling Eddie his husband. Only problem...they're not engaged. aka the 5 times Buck refers to Eddie as his husband and the 1 time Eddie makes it true.

just lay back in my arms for one more night by diazbegins/ @evanbegins (Established Buddie, Fluff | 2K | Teen): Buck loves Eddie as he naps.

Brat Burrito by Tizniz/ @tizniz (Established Buddie | 1K | General): Just a cute Buddie moment about breakfast burritos.

it's a sliding into home kind of day by devirnis/ @devirnis (PWP | 3K | Explicit): Eddie’s eyes still don’t leave the television. Frowning to himself, Buck cranes his neck to get a look at what could possibly be more important than him coming home after covering a tragically Eddie-less shift. A baseball game evidently is the answer.

your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep by BekkaChaos/ @bekkachaos (New Years Eve, Getting Together | 8K | Teen): aka, Eddie's in love with Buck and he doesn't know how to tell him, until there's a miscommunication and fate (well, Hen) intervenes.

Loose Threads by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Secret Relationship | 3K | Explicit): New to dating and keeping it quiet, Buck and Eddie get a little carried away on a slower shift at the firehouse. But when the alarm eventually sounds, a spur of the moment mistake leaves them a little mixed up.

Married Life by buddiefication (pumpkincreamcoldbrew)/ @911onabc (S5, Getting Together | 2K | General): Taylor films Buck for a TikTok challenge, and Buck finds out he would much rather be his best friend’s husband than his girlfriend’s.

A Seal By Any Other Name (Would Still Be My Best Friend) by bigfootsmom (Seal!Buck, Post-Tsunami | 5K | General): Evan "Buck" Buckley is a collection of oddities. But they're just what makes Buck Buck and Eddie loves him for them. Eddie had thought that after their years of friendship (and maybe something more) that nothing Buck could do would surprise him anymore. But there is one oddity that Eddie never saw coming. “How about you start with why there was a seal in my bathtub and now there’s just you in my bathtub.” (Part 1 of Seal!Buck as in the aquatic mammal)

Just Add Water by bigfootsmom (Seal!Buck, Tsunami | 3K | General): There may be more to Buck than meets the eye. But he's still only human(ish) and getting stuck in a natural disaster with his best friend's son is still all sorts of terrifying. A small hysterical part of his brain thinks about how ironic it would be if this was how he died. Him, a mythical aquatic creature, drowning. The universe would surely laugh and the long line of Buckley ancestors would turn in their graves. (Part 2 of Seal!Buck as in the aquatic mammal)

you can be my daddy (come on, you know you like) by bigfootsmom (Getting Together, Daddy Kink | 4K | Mature): Buck has a teeny tiny problem. One, he's in love with his best friend. Two, he wants to call said best friend Daddy.

It's the softness that breaks you by bigfootsmom (BDSM, Hurt/Comfort | 6K | Explicit): Or the one where Buck has more issues with intimacy than he had originally thought.

lay your love on me by bigfootsmom (PWP, Getting Together | 3K Explicit): Buck never thought the words he said to Eddie in the kitchen would ever come back to haunt him like this. Honestly, he’s not complaining.

you made me feel (i've got nothing to hide) by bigfootsmom (Virgin!Buck, Established Buddie, PWP | 8K | Explicit): Buck has a secret: Contrary to popular belief, Evan "Buck" Buckley is actually a virgin.

WIP

🔥 Right Where You Left Me by hyacinthusbloom/ @thebloomingheather (Canon Divergent, Post-S4, Angst | 22/? | 162K | Explicit | ❗️Warning: Rape/Non-con): "Therapy?" Eddie suggests. Buck almost laughs, but instead says, "I'll go if you go." Because he had fully expected him to be chicken shit, to disagree, and instead Eddie, the bastard, replies, "Deal." Or Buck never tells anyone that he slept with his therapist and deals with the butterfly effect years later.

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 6/18 | 37K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, S7 Spec | 122/? | 374K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

[ghxstwrites]

3000 Miles away...

Pairing: Idol! Bang Chan x Fem! Reader

Summary: When being away from your childhood best friend for too long makes every second together that much better

WC: 3021

AU: childhood friends to lovers (it’s delulu hours here)

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warning(s): Call your dentist, you’ll need to fill a couple cavities after this one, maybe a tissue based on the beta read. Pet names (my favorite girl, channie, sunshine) clingy bangchan?

A/N: Big thanks to @bunnliix for the proof read/beta on this, sorry for the tears... Banner credits to @cafekitsune for some super cute banners! <3

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society

“Y/n… I have.. I have something I need to tell you” Chris looked over at you as the two of you sat on the swings.

“What?” you looked over at your best friend, curiously. 

“Do you remember how I told you when I got older.. I wanted to be a performer?..” He looked down and kicked the mulch around under his feet “Well… I...Auditioned...” 

============================================================== You and Christopher had been friends since primary school,  you’d moved to Australia at a very young age and a very small Chris was one of the very first friends you made. Ever since that day you’d been inseparable, most of the time if you were around he wasn’t far behind. 

You’d first learned about Christopher’s desire to be a an artist when you guys were barely 10 - you’d been over at his house, and he’d decided to good around on the piano, playing - something - as to what no one knew, as you looked at him and laughed “You know, you should be like… an artist or something someday” you giggled at him “you’re so talented” you fake mocked his ability.

 Looking back on it he was actually quite impressive  for such a young age. The few times you were at his house just as his piano lessons were ending you’d caught the artistic sounds flowing from his family room. You would have listened to him play for days.

“Oh shut up,” he retorted back at you in a squeaky voice as he laughed, causing you to share a giggle. “You laugh Y/n but one day, I will be all big and famous and you’ll be looking back ‘I knew him when’ and you’ll be all jealous,” you both giggled shortly after his mother called the both of you for dinner.

Bringing you to today, as the both of you had walked to the park to hang out because he sister had friends over and you guys had gotten tired of the teasing. You’d been hanging out for a while when you guys made your way to sit on the swing, you’d been talking for a while but you’d noticed something was wrong.

“Chris?” you’d spoke up “Yeah?” he looked up at you.

“Are you… Okay? You look sad..” you’d pouted at him He sighed  as he spoke “Y/n… I have.. I have something I need to tell you” Chris looked over at you as the two of you sat on the swings.

“What?” you looked over at your best friend, curiously. 

“Do you remember how I told you when I got older.. I wanted to be a performer?..” He looked down and kicked the mulch around under his feet “Well…I...Auditioned...and I passed, and they wanna fly me to Korea..” as he looked back to the ground, avoiding your reaction.

“Oh.. When -""Last weekend, I went last weekend and I heard yesterday” He’d cut you off, Knowing  what you were going to ask him, as he looked back at you, only to see your confused and vaguely hurt expression. You just smiled “you did it… you actually did it” you chuckled “When.. When do you leave..?” your smile started to falter, you were happy for him but… this meant that you’d be losing your best friend. “ 2 weeks? I think.. We’re still figuring stuff out” he chuckled out the response softly.

“Promise me when you make it big.. You’ll still remember me?” you chuckle.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’d sat in your room as you are working on a project for work when you see a text pop up

Channie <3: Are you free?

For you, always 

No sooner did you send the text did you get a facetime notification from him. “Hey you, I’m just finishing getting ready for bed and wanted to check on my favorite girl,” he smiles at the camera as you see him pull a hoodie over his head getting comfortable in bed as he watches you work. “Wait a second, Mister, why are you just now laying down - Isn't it after midnight there?” you paused your work looking at your phone screen, knowing how tight his schedules have been lately.

He laughs at you “Yeah.. but I couldn’t miss our regularly scheduled facetime call… again,”  He shyly looks around feeling a bit guilty, “plus we have tomorrow off”

“Fine… you get a pass just this once,” you chuckle at him. “But you know I understand you’re busy right? I could never be mad at you to begin with especially during comeback season Chris… you’re working so hard.” you say softly as you place your chin in your hand looking at him as he smiles, hiding in his hoodie causing you to laugh. “You’re gonna make me blush,” he laughs as his head pokes back out of his hoodie.”Good” you retort back at him, laughing. “You deserve to know how proud I am of you, how proud everyone is. You know.. “ your voice softened as you spoke, looking at him through the camera. He smiled softly. A smile you’d grown to love because it meant he understood what you’d said, even if he didn’t say it. 

He let out a soft sigh, causing you to look back over at his sleepy form. “Chris? What's wrong?” you knitted your brows together in confusion. “I miss you..” he lulls out. “I miss my best friend, more than ever recently,” He chuckles softly, seeming a little embarrassed at his confession. “I miss you too, you know.. It's been too long since we’ve curled up on my couch for a move and some shitty take out,” you smiled trying to pull him out of his current mental state. 

“I’ll be home next month, and you’re the first stop as soon as I land,” he stated, causing you to smile “I can’t wait,” you responded. “I’ll make sure I’ll keep your favorite snacks around because I know you’ll be here more than at your own house,” you chuckled at him. “Is it a crime to want to see my favorite person?” he scoffs as he hears you start to laugh.

 The laugh he’d never tell you warmed his heart, made everything seem a little better. When he was having a terrible day and you guys would talk, the minute you’d giggle or laugh, he’d forgotten what made him upset in the first place. He just smiled back at you, his best friend. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One day you’d been at your apartment, tidying up as you normally do on the weekends, you’d known Bang Chan would be coming home to visit within a couple days so you wanted to make sure your space was tidy for him. You knew he’d had a day off today but you’d not heard from him, even despite the time difference you’d usually hear from him by now so you pull out your phone to text him.

Chris? I just wanted to check on you - you’re normally alive by now, is everything okay?

You waited a bit before setting your phone back on the counter, you chalked it up to maybe he pulled another all nighter at the studio and just hadn't woken up yet, so you put your phone down and continued to clean.

His plane just landed in Australia, not even his own family knew he was here, he wanted to see you. As soon as he gets off the plane and back through customs, he’s all but sprinting to your apartment. It’d been almost a year since you guys had properly seen each other, and he was not about to wait a second longer.

His ride from the airport he’d seen your text, and he didn’t respond because he knew he’d give himself away. You were bad at surprises but he was worse. He got dropped off in front of your apartment, and he scrambled up to your door.

You’d been playing their most recent comeback blasting through your phone speaker to keep you motivated, because you were nothing if not his #1 supporter from day one. Just as the song finished you heard a knock at your door, causing you to pause, both yourself and the music. Was it louder than you thought and your neighbor was coming to yell at you again?

Carefully you made your way over to your door as you opened it, ready to spew apologies when - Chris? You’d stood there wide eyed, were your eyes playing tricks on you? He stood there and looked at you, with his signature smile - the one only you knew. 

“Christopher?....” you’d managed to speak up after a few moments of silence “Surprise” he managed to get out as he giggled. You rushed into his arms engulfing him in a hug, nearly sending the both of you tumbling back as he laughed hugging you closer to him. “What are you - why are you here? You aren't supposed to be back for a couple more days!” you choked out, on the verge of tears. Causing him to pull back and look at you. 

“Hey, no crying. You know by now if you cry I will too.” He chuckled “Schedules ended earlier than anticipated and I knew I was needed at home..” he smiled softly at you “Wait..is that my shirt?” He looked down at your casual attire. “Oh.. yeah.. I wore it to sleep in, I didn’t change yet because I was just cleaning today.” You felt a blush creep across your face, hoping he didn’t notice, which he seemingly did not due to just his small laugh. 

You’d welcomed him in, as he took his suitcases to the spare room in your apartment, which you only had because when you moved out he convinced you to get a place with a second room so he could come stay with you when he was in town. You’d heard the shower turn on, figuring he was trying to wash up from traveling, taking note of the time you pulled out your phone ordering his favorite take out. 

Just as he rejoins you in the living room he smells the freshly delivered food and spots you setting up something in your living room “y/n?” he calls out to you, causing you to turn around and you can’t help but smile. “It’s your favorite -  I didn’t have time to go get your favorite snacks so I wanted to do this instead… movie night?” you smiled sheepishly at him causing him to return a much wider smile to you. 

Later that night after eating your fill of takeout, catching up and watching your fair share of terrible movies together you found yourself cuddled up to him, as your eyelids began to grow heavy he took notice. “You know… we can go to bed at any time right?” he spoke softly almost as if he was scared he’d wake you up. “But.. Want to spend time with you,” you cooed at him, half asleep, causing his heart to swell. “I’ll be here when you wake up, you know..” you stirred slightly and nodded your head letting out a defeated “Okay…”  

You’d sleepily stumbled to your own bed with him right behind you making sure you got there safely, once you were in bed he turned around to walk out. 

“Channie?...”  you had whined out for him, pulling at his heart strings he had no other choice but to turn around, it was a nickname you’d picked up from his fans and he grew to love it when you called him that, he turned around and perked up “hmm? What is it, Sunshine?” you’d returned the smile. The nickname he’d given you so many years ago that started  out as a joke, but as you two grew up he realized just how true it was - you were his sunshine.

“Will you stay with me tonight?.. I missed you,” you whined out, you guys had shared a bed all those years ago and usually only when you guys had one too many bottles of soju, but something about the way you asked him… He couldn’t say no. He let out a soft giggle and crawled into bed next to you, almost immediately you drew closer to him as if he was your favorite stuffed animal. 

Christopher looked down at you, smiling as he gently removed pieces of your hair from your face. Your eyes fluttered up to meet his with a soft but sleepy smile “thank you..” was all you could get out before yawning, causing him to laugh, and unbeknownst to you, tug at his heart strings. 

For years now, he’s cherished the late night facetime calls, phone conversations, random visits, everything you two could do together, everything you did. All those years ago, back when you were standing at the airport with his family, he realized he could never let you go, not because you were all he’d ever known, but because he was in love with you. It took years for him to finally admit it to himself, but he swore you’d never know, he needed you - and if that meant as a friend, he’d learn to love you just the same. “Chris?” your voice broke him out of his thoughts as he looked down at you. “Hmm?” he responded softly as he cupped your face, gently stroking his thumb over your cheek, almost in an attempt to cradle you to sleep. “You’re staring… “ you giggled at him “you only ever stare when you’re so deep in thought it’s nearly impossible to snap you out of it.” he blushed at your words hiding his face in the pillow, laughing softly, “Sorry.. I guess you could say.. I’m just happy to be back home.” he manages, causing you to smile back at him “and i'm happy I have home back.” your words barely above a whisper and he swears he wouldn’t have heard it had he not been staring at you.

He can't help but chuckle and he feels like his ears are on fire, he was home to you too? “C’mere you,” he laughs as he pulls you into his chest, you smile, wrapping yourself around him, resting your face in the crook of his neck. 

This, this was home, it always had been since you two were kids. 

Growing up, Christopher was slightly older, so at first you always viewed him as your big brother, he kept the mean kids away, growing into making sure the things kids were making fun of you for weren't true, to almost getting into a fight before he flew to Korea because one of your childhood bullies figured out he wouldn’t be around  to protect you. Christophers arms were there to welcome you anytime you needed him, something you only realized you’d missed when you needed him and he was 1000’s of miles away in a different time zone, when you realized you were in love with your best friend. “Chris… I… I missed this…I missed you…” you feel yourself tearing up, and you weren't sure if it was the tiredness or his scent filling your nose, replaying memories like an old tape that caused it, but you just held him tighter. He pulled back just enough to look down at your tear stained cheeks as he made an attempt to shush you softly. “Sunshine.. I’m here, and I'm not going anywhere, what’s gotten you so flustered?” He coos at you, wiping your tears away, causing you to look up at him as you sniffle.

“I just missed you… Dinner and seeing you sooner than expected just.. It made me realize just how much of me is missing when you’re gone.” you stammer out at him. He smiles at you, a smile worth a thousand words.”I leave a part of me here when I go back to Korea too you know..’ he whispers in kind. 

You look up through your wet lashes to see him smiling at you. “W-what do you mean?” you say softly back to him, trying to wipe the tears off your face, you can't help but notice the blush creeping back onto his face as you ask him.”Chris…?” you ask him curiously. “Y/n.. I.. i can’t do this anymore” he says to you almost defeated as he looks away from you causing your heart to race from the anxiety. “What..What do you mean?” you can feel the tears welling back up. Seeing your reaction he rushes to comfort you, pulling you closer to him. “Listen sunshine… that isn’t what I meant.. I mean..” he pauses and lets out a heavy sigh “I just.. You’re my favorite girl, my best friend, but you’re more than that…” he pulls back to look at you.

“I’m in love with you…” he says barely above a whisper. 

“What..?” you look up at him, puzzled, “For ho-” 

“Since we were 13, in the airport when I realized just what i’d done, staring back at you waiting for me, i knew when the sadness i felt wasn’t because i’d be leaving you behind, but I’d miss you and everything we did together…” he cups your face, forcing you to look up at him. “And I can’t keep acting like I don’t.” He studies your face, silently begging for some sort of response. “Christopher.. I.. “ you searched for words, for over 10 years now the two of you had been pinning for each other without the other's knowledge, and it all came to this, rain falling outside as you two stared back at the other. 

“I love you too” you stated softly and simply.

He chuckles softly as if he can’t believe what he’s heard, he leans in pressing his lips to yours softly as it feels like a lifetime's worth of emotions flows through the two of you. Every argument, every forgotten goodbye, every missed phone call, every celebration, every moment the two of you shared, all of it being poured into this moment, if his smile spoke 1000 words, his kisses spoke for a million more. 

He slowly pulls away from you, still softly caressing your face.

“Forever?”

“And always, Christopher.”

[crushedsweets]

I'm the sweetest girl in town; so why are you so mean? Nina 'the Killer' Hopkins in Creeped PT 1: K-12

PT. 2: PURPOSE — PT. 3 NEW MESSAGE

General disclaimer: This AU is an amalgamation of headcanons, fanon, canon, and the occasional rewrite. There is an overarching story that HEAVILY strays from their canon stories. TW for toxic relationships, grooming, eating disorders, and self-harm. ED content is restricted to the 'middle school' section. Nina is a very personal character to me, but with a LOT of changes. Please take care of yourself and only engage in content you can handle.

BACKGROUND

❥Nina Hopkins was born on February 13, 1998, in California. She was the older sister of 1 brother, Christopher Hopkins.

❥Nina grew up with workaholics. Her father was a carpenter and her mother was a hairdresser, running her very own salon. They'd work 12 hour shifts, coming home to little Nina fast asleep on the couch, waiting for her parents. Especially her dad.

❥Nina was a daddy's girl through and through, and his guilt for never being there was evident. So he chose to shower her in gifts when he could, tutus and little pink mary-janes. Something girly and flashy.

❥Nina's favorite gift was a cheap, princess-themed makeup palette. Little Rapunzel's and Tiana's littered about her glittery pink and purple eyeshadows, set alongside cherry-flavored lip balms. She'd use the tiny sponge brush to delicately put on bright eyeshadow before school every goddamn morning.

❥It became obsessive. She'd come home and reapply. Cry when her mom makes her wipe it off before bed. Kick and scream when they threatened to take it away from her. When her mother asked why, Nina cried that it made her pretty. She didn’t want to look in the mirror without it. 

❥Now, Nina wanted attention. From a young age, you could see it in her. The way she dressed, the messily applied makeup, the loud voice, fake cries. She didn't get it much from her parents, and it only worsened when she became a big sister.

❥She was about 7 when Christopher was born. Her mom may have taken maternity leave, but that still left no time for Nina. She learned how to make bottles, change diapers, and bathe newborns. No attention aside from Christopher’s tiny hands holding onto her pajamas.

❥This opened a new routine for Nina and her mom, though. Each night, her mom dozed off on the couch, rocking Christopher’s little crib. Nina curled up beside her, purple eyelids half shut, watching whatever show her mom had on. 

❥Nina’s mom’s favorite show was Forensics Files. A little odd to her husband, but it immediately hooked Nina’s attention. It wasn’t age-appropriate, sure, but her mom was far too exhausted to change it. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? If Nina could wear eyeshadow, she could watch her mama’s favorite show. 

❥Just like Nina’s cheap makeup set, her interest in true crime grew obsessive. She’d get in trouble at school, spending her time in the school’s library, typing away at the school’s computer. She didn’t get far with many of her searches considering the Wi-Fi restrictions, but teachers and students quickly caught on. Eventually, she got banned from the library.

❥But Nina couldn’t get those stories out of her head. Every little bit she had memorized, she scribbled away in her diary. Obsessively. She kept track of every single detail. Memorized the victims’ names, the dates, and even the times they were declared dead. Whatever information was available to the public, Nina wrote down.

❥When Nina was about 9, she got her very own laptop. A gift from her dad, and an apology for so many late nights at work. He had no idea what it would unlock for Nina. All of the forums and chat rooms and videos she’d have access to. He didn’t even know there was a fucking ‘true crime community’ online, how could he expect his little girl to get sucked into that?

GRADE SCHOOL

❥When Nina was 10, she became a bit of a recluse. Girls at school avoided her for a few years now. She spent day after day curled up by the playground all on her own, flipping through her diary and brushing everyone off in favor of it. At home, she’d retreat to her bedroom and scroll online forums. 

❥She began making friends online, choosing to lie about her age. She’d befriend adults interested in the same morbidity as her. They introduced her to new content. It began with anime, usually psychological horror. Eventually, it evolved into dark manga, then gorey horror movies. Nina didn’t think much when they introduced her to liveleak. 

❥Nina left her diary behind one day, a fatal mistake that she was always so careful about. A girl from her class, Claudia, picked it up. Nina didn’t see that diary for a week. She spent days sobbing over it, crying to the people she met online and refusing to leave her room in fear of it being found.

❥She was called into her elementary school’s office the following Monday. Little Nina, dressed in hot pink twinkle-toe converse and glittery lip-balm, sat uncomfortably in the stiff office chair. Her father sat besides her, a look of disappointment on his overworked face. Her diary was on the desk.

❥Nina screamed. She screamed and kicked the chair as she snatched the diary. Without a second thought, she snapped the tension in that room, resulting in her father having to hold her down. She panicked violently, and when she eventually settled down into a whimpering sobbing mess, they scolded her. 

❥They began putting Nina into therapy. Weekly sessions at first, trying to dissect what was wrong with her. It made her feel worse. She didn’t think there was anything wrong with her. She wore ‘weird’ like a badge, something that all her online communities praised her for. Why was everyone acting so awful? It didn’t matter that much, though. Her parents still couldn’t carve time out of their work days for her. Weekly appointments turned monthly, turned every three months, turned never.

❥The girl who found her diary didn’t help. She read through it long before she turned it in to the teachers, snapping photos on her older sister's phone. Claudia began to keep track of Nina, similar to Nina’s habits. When the two turned 11 and entered 6th grade, Nina began experiencing relentless bullying and harassment. 

❥It started with name-calling. Deeming Nina a freak show, calling her a future serial killer, or pretending to squeal and run off when Nina walked by. It snowballed into jabs at her appearance, laughing at her messily applied blush and colorful clothes. Saying she was the ugliest girl in their grade, making comments on her body and how all the boys found her gross. She very frequently fell for boys saying they had a crush on her, only to laugh at her the second she believed it. Her self-esteem was already in shambles, but the relentless harassment only worsened it.

MIDDLE SCHOOL

❥Nina found solace online. Her friends were older, more mature. They understood her. Sure, some of them made her a bit uncomfortable, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. When she turned 12, she confessed her age to them. It broke her heart when a few blocked her, but not everyone did. She clung to those who stayed. Curiously, the adults interested in staying friends with little Nina were the same ones introducing her to new disgusting content. They’d ask to video call her and stream their favorite movies. Nina didn’t realize they were snuff films at first.

❥The harassment at school didn’t stop, of course. Nina was too young to start dieting, too young to be buying expensive makeup, too young to be worrying about her appearance. Regardless, she was convinced it would solve her problems. Alongside the fixation on horror, Nina stressed about her looks. She’d sob in front of mirrors, calling her adult friends and begging them for advice. They’d ask for photos. You know, to help her. She shattered every mirror in her room, weeping over her bloody hands and sending shards along her body. Nina's new diary obsessively kept track of new numbers.

❥Nina spent every night grabbing at her face and body, desperately morphing it to look the way she wanted. She didn’t even stop to think about Christopher in the other room, listening to her wretch into the toilet after every meal. Nina was so unbelievably lost in her own world, that nobody good ever came to mind.

❥She thought about Claudia a lot. So thin, tall, and confident. Claudia had a lot of friends, too. Nina was well aware, considering how often Claudia geared their attacks at Nina. She watched Claudia daily. In 8th grade, she noticed Claudia began wearing crop tops. Nina did too. She’d tie up her shirts and untie them around her parents. Claudia wore her hair in a high ponytail every damn day, so Nina started doing it too. Nina began applying mascara and highlight the same way Claudia did. Both girls were arguably too young for makeup, but there they were, egging each other on to apply more and more. Claudia’s wardrobe was pretty simple, nothing too flashy. So Nina opted out of her rhinestones and bright pink sneakers, instead reaching for simple Converse and plain jeans. 

❥By this point, a good number of them had phones. Claudia had long blocked Nina on Instagram, but Nina just made another account. A few, actually. One was an empty account with a fake profile picture and name, only used to follow Claudia without being blocked. A few more were made, used to follow Claudia and bombard her comments and messages with hateful content. Jabs at her appearance, her body, her clothes. Anything Nina could use as ammunition, she shot down Claudia’s self-esteem as harshly as her own. Nina would tell her adult friends online about it, bringing them to Claudia’s pages to attack her. It was cruel, and Nina knew that.

❥But it just felt so good when Claudia began to change. Before the end of 8th grade, she swapped to hoodies and pajama pants. No longer wore her hair up, instead used it to hide her face the best she could. She spoke quieter and didn't laugh so loud anymore. Nina felt like she won, and the freaks online cheered her on. Finally, Nina was able to drop her fixation on Claudia. 

HIGH SCHOOL

❥There was an odd shift in high school. Nina had completely turned her appearance around. She obsessively posted selfies and was quite careful about her online interests. Nobody could know. She wouldn’t even share the fact that she watched anime, far too fearful of the backlash. 

❥She had caught the eye of a senior at her school. His friend group had practically circled Nina, quickly offering her rides home and inviting her out. She bathed in the attention.

❥Christopher watched his big sister sneak out every other night. He’d ask softly where she was going. Gently, she’d smooth down his hair, press a kiss to his forehead, and ask him not to tell. He listened. Nina didn’t realize how much Christopher knew, and how much he kept to himself. How much of her grief he carried with him, worrying for his big sister.

❥14 year old Nina found herself at quite a few parties. Sometimes they’d be cities away, and she’d be seated on a couch at a random college party, shakily sipping away at a drink that made her nose scrunch. Eventually, the boy that brought her to these parties asked her to be his girlfriend. Nina couldn’t believe it.

❥He was the first boy of many to break her heart. It was a short month with him, till she went to the next guy. Then the next, and the next. Nina started drinking quite a bit, occasionally smoking weed and embarrassing herself on several occasions. She said it made it easier to socialize, but she really just thought it made her look cooler.

❥It grew difficult to balance both social lives. Her adult friends online continued to demand her attention at all times. Not much changed from when she was in middle school, including the way her anxiety would skyrocket when they got upset with her. She always folded to everyone in her life. She just wanted them to stay, to praise her, to tell her how kind and beautiful and sweet and funny she was. But it just felt so much better when someone in real life gave her that.

❥Yet another boy broke Nina’s heart. She thought he was the one, she really did. She spent months with him, from the end of her sophomore year to the start of her junior year. He bathed her in everything she asked for at first. She even got comfortable sharing some of her interests with him. He thought a girl liking anime was badass, but when she began to ramble about cold cases, he started to withdraw. Shortly after he broke up with her, old rumors began to resurface. Photos of an old diary slipped back into her school, shedding light on Nina’s elementary school habits. Nothing seemed to change, huh? Still talking about the same shit she was tormented for years back, but this time, they were attached to screenshots and voice memos that Nina sent to her boyfriend that year.

❥Nina knew who leaked them. Claudia, that stupid fucking bitch. Nina was never confrontational. Nobody ever taught her how to be. But this was a new low for her, dragging her right back to her middle school horrors. It’s like all of her misery, all of her insecurities, all of her rage and frustration and low self esteem accumulated into a string of stupid decisions. 

❥Nina followed Claudia home that following Monday. It was long after school, with Nina patiently waiting for Claudia to finish her group project. Neither of them exactly expected this, but when Nina snatched Claudia’s hair and began bashing her head into the ground, there was a deep sense of relief.

❥Regret followed. It didn’t feel so good watching Claudia sob as she curled up on the floor, clutching her face and begging Nina to stop. A pathetically small puddle of blood pooled beneath Claudia, and the sight made Nina’s stomach churn. She threw up. 

❥But Claudia was fine. Only her nose was broken and her face was bruised. Nina was expelled, now being shoved into an alternate school to complete high school. It was tearing Nina up inside to be so alone again.

❥What else was she supposed to do?

PT. 2: PURPOSE

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Alpha Dog (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | Roomies to Lovers | Soulmate AU? 👀 Warnings: Chris’ POV, curvy/chubby MC, pet names, mentions and descriptions of werewolf mating cycles, mandatory Christopher is Intense™ warning (it’s even worse when you can read his thoughts), graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut). Word Count: ~17k sobbing | AO3 Summary: Chris had a dream since he was very young. He wanted to have a pack of his own, to build a safe space for people with views just like his. Once he managed to accomplish that, he would’ve never imagined that his next dream would arrive at his doorstep in a pretty sundress.

Author’s Note: i wanted to expand Chris’ character in this series of stories, so this monster was born ! i think it could actually be a good starter piece for my WereRoomies series, or, if anything, just a good read 🤭 if you’re reading this, hope you enjoy, and don’t hesitate to let me know what you think !

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments:  It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

Smut Warnings: thigh kink · possessiveness · a barely even present breeding kink · praising · oral [F.&M.Rec, but the M.Rec is not as detailed] · breast/nipple play · forced orgasm (F.Rec) · fingering [F.Rec] · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but reader is presumed to be on birth control] · cum eating · marking (as in, sucking love bites on someone’s skin) · intercrural · cumshot/cum on body. there’s just a lot going on i’m sorry or am i? 👀

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Since the moment Chris gained his consciousness when he was very young, he knew what he was. It was impossible not to know, when the dynamic of his entire family was basically ingrained in his DNA. 

Chris was a werewolf. His mother was a werewolf, his father was a werewolf, as were his grandparents, and they were all part of the same pack since his grandparents joined it before Chris’ parents were even born.

Chris’ childhood pack was big, consisting of several different blood-related families that were being led by the same alpha. Due to the numerous members of that pack, it felt like it was more of a closed off community than a family–especially considering members of the pack that weren’t blood related would often mate with each other. Even as he grew up, Chris felt as if these people weren’t really close to him, aside, of course, from his blood relatives and his best friend, Changbin.

It wasn’t as if they were all bad people, he just didn’t feel like he could be fully himself with the rest. They were often a bit close minded when it came to werewolf ‘traditions’, with deep desires to keep humans at bay, or turn them whenever it was suitable for the pack, whenever they saw fit, regardless of the human’s wishes. Some of them would even believe in the designation hierarchy–alphas over betas and omegas, always–which was something Chris never really understood, nor supported in any way.

Thankfully for him, his blood family was quite progressive compared to the rest of the pack, and even if the others looked down on them for it, his parents decided to socialise Chris with humans from a young age. They sent him to a human school, let him have human friends–with the only condition to not reveal anything about his lycanthropy or the pack to them–and that contact with the outside world simply highlighted the fact that all these archaic customs in the pack made absolutely no sense to him.

So when puberty hit him, and his alpha nature started to really settle in him, he knew that he wanted to start a pack of his own. A pack where no member would feel judged or held back by the rest, where everyone could be equal.

It wasn’t really that much of a surprise, honestly. His parents always knew he would be an alpha–based on how thick-headed he was and how he would often lead his group of peers from a young age–so when Chris told his mother about this desire of his, she immediately supported him.

His father took a bit longer to accept it, but eventually he simply understood. ‘It’s too late for us. This pack is our family, we’ve already accepted the good as well as the bad, but you’ll always be our son whether you’re a member of it or not’, which was enough acceptance for Chris.

So as soon as he was of age and he went to university, he broke ties off with his childhood pack, and for a couple of years, he was seemingly on his own.

Some people from his childhood pack would even try to ridicule him, to look down on him whenever they met him on the streets or whenever he went to visit his parents. Chris knew it was because they thought he was crazy for being out there on his own. 

What they didn’t know was that he wasn’t really alone. He had Changbin and Jisung.

Before Chris left his childhood pack he told Changbin of his idea, of his goal of leading a pack of his own, and without missing a beat Changbin immediately told him he’d join him as soon as he was of age, as long as Chris wanted him. And of course Chris wanted Changbin in his pack, he was one of the few people he trusted more in this world.

Jisung was also a childhood friend, but he didn’t belong to the same pack Chris and Changbin did at the time. He became friends with them after his pack moved away from their previous den to form a new one in the same city Chris and Changbin grew up in. His parents enrolled him in the same school as them as soon as they settled, which was how the three of them met.

As it turned out, Jisung was also unhappy in his childhood pack, he was an omega, and much like Chris’ childhood pack, omegas were viewed as of lower status than any other designation, so he was often disregarded or even mistreated. And just like Changbin, as soon as Chris told Jisung of his future plans, Jisung also decided to join them when he was of age.

So while someone outside of Chris’ circle might’ve thought he was a lone wolf, a packless misfit, the reality was that he felt happier, more at ease while he waited for Changbin and Jisung to defect, than he ever did in his childhood pack. Two years wasn’t that long of a wait–considering that was the age gap between him and Changbin–so he decided to place his focus on his studies for those couple of years on his own.

Eventually, as the three of them grew up, Chris’ pack started to take more shape. Changbin was his obvious right hand, he had this sense of responsibility and protectiveness that made him a perfect second in command. However, Jisung never even entertained the possibility of being his left hand, because, in his words, ‘I’m not cut out for that, I’d get everyone starved or killed’, which was valid in Chris’ opinion, after all, it wasn’t really in his inherit nature to lead or protect others, quite the opposite actually, so Chris let it go without much of a fight.

Jisung did offer a candidate, though. A childhood friend of his, Minho, a human turned werewolf with no real pack of his own who had no real desire to lead, but was incredibly caring and protective, and, in Jisung’s words, someone who had a heart of gold.

As time went on, as they met more friends throughout their years at university, Chris’ pack grew. With the addition of Hyunjin, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin his pack became a tight group of eight young werewolves who were simply trying to find their place in the world, a group of people who weren’t happy in the conditions they lived in before and wanted a change, a healthy environment. 

Since then, Chris, Minho, and Changbin tried their absolute best to keep this safe, healthy ecosystem. And in Chris’ humble opinion, they were succeeding at that. Sure, they fought sometimes, just like any other family or pack or group of friends would, but things could always be solved one way or another. For once, Chris truly felt as if he was exactly where he was supposed to be, doing what he was supposed to do–what he wanted to do. 

Aside from his supernatural condition, Chris always thought of himself as a simple man. When his mind wasn’t dominated by his wolf instincts, he’d just feel like any other dude out there. He liked to play computer games, he had friends he’d often hang out with–not only his packmates, but also people he’d met throughout his life–and he had a stable, decent paying job as a software engineer which he quite enjoyed. But he’d admit that sometimes, it felt as if something was missing… And that something was romantic love.

The topic of love and romantic relationships was quite tricky for him. He’d dated a few people in his life, but no one really seemed to stick for too long, either because he was always a bit too intense of a guy, or because they simply didn’t really understand his pack’s dynamic.

Oftentimes, especially when he dated a human, they just couldn’t really understand why his ‘friends’ were so important to him. He’d been told things from ‘you care more about your friends than you care about me’, to ‘it’s a bit weird how close you are. Y’all practically live together?’ They simply wouldn’t get it, and it wasn’t like he could reveal his condition to just anyone and explain, so those relationships would end as soon as the person showed any discomfort in regards to his pack, which was honestly for the best.

Then on the other side of the spectrum, when he dated other werewolves, it all often fell too much into the traditional dynamic of ‘you’re an alpha, I’m an XYZ, so we must be and do things this and this way’, and even if he tried to break those moulds a bit, it just wouldn’t work out.

So one day, right after another failed relationship, Chris decided to just… Let things flow. He was fine being single.

Did he have the intense need to pamper and take care of someone romantically? Yes. Did he have physical needs that he wished he could fulfil with the warmth of another person? Also yes. But he decided to bear it regardless. If he never found someone who understood him and his family dynamic then he was happy to die single. After all, his pack was, and would always be, his utmost priority.

He would’ve never imagined that it would all change once he finally realised he couldn’t live on his own.

In the very early stages of Chris’ pack, they had to decide where their den would be. Changbin’s parents were well off, they owned a handful of buildings throughout the city, so with a bit of convincing, they let Chris, Changbin, Jisung, and anyone that came after settle in one of their buildings at a discount price. 

For a couple of years, the three of them lived in the same flat, but as more people joined Chris’ pack they kept rearranging themselves to get the best comfort, leaving Chris in a flat of his own, which was great at the beginning. He had his own space and privacy, and for a while, it was fine.

But when his grandparents passed away, leaving a huge house under Chris’ name, things changed. Between the expensive utility bills of his flat, and what he had to spend upkeeping his house in the woods, he just never had money to spare. He had to accept the fact that he needed a roommate, but everyone was already settled in their own living arrangements within the den, and he didn’t want to disrupt any of his packmates with this.

One day, during a phone call with his mother, Chris told her of this predicament of his, and she offered to help find a suitable roommate–as long as Chris wanted her help, of course.

He trusted his mother’s judgement, so he agreed, and next time she came to visit him, it looked like this woman had seen an angel come down from the heavens, because her face was glowing, and she exclaimed the most overly excited ‘Oh, honey! I got the perfect candidate. Remember my coworker’s daughter I always talk to you about?’

How could he not remember her coworker’s daughter when his mother tried to bring her up at least once whenever he came to visit? Of course he remembered you. His mother had met you a few times, always described you as a ‘beautiful, sensible, young woman’, and honestly sometimes Chris wondered if she was trying to set him up, especially when she’d conveniently mention how ‘you really need someone like that in your pack, pup… A sensible, caring figure would do you all some good, especially a female one. There are just too many males at your den, I don’t know how you get anything done…’

It honestly didn’t surprise him that much for her to say that, she was surrounded by incompetent males all the time, always had to pick up their messes, so she’d gotten quite radical on the importance of female figures… Chris just didn’t really care about the gender of his roommate or his packmates at all, so he decided to follow through with her suggestion.

Apparently, you had been looking to move out of your mother’s house, or that was what your mother told Chris’ mother, so considering you were someone his mother already knew who seemed to be nice enough, he said fuck it and told his mother to give you his number, requesting for her to ‘not get too excited. I just need a roommate, mum. For all I know she might not even integrate well, maybe she’d hardly ever be home… Relax, I’m not getting married, jeez…’ Which his mother honestly didn’t look too convinced about.

He expected nothing of it, really. He wasn’t even sure if you’d call, but a few days after he had that conversation with his mother, you finally called, and you both arranged a time for you to come visit so you could see the place for yourself.

He was, admittedly, a bit nervous, mostly because he didn’t want to make his condition known, or to make you uncomfortable in any way. After all, he was just an unknown man you were coming to meet and possibly live with.

When the day finally came, the moment Chris opened his door and met you he realised three things:

One, that you smelt like flowers. And not in a perfume way, more like in your natural scent way. Everyone had a different scent, it was typically more noticeable to him in other werewolves than humans, but humans most definitely had a scent, and you smelt just like freshly picked flowers.

Two, that you had a smile that could easily outshine the sun. When you smiled your cheeks would round up, and your eyes would disappear, and it was just such an endearing gesture it was hard for him not to focus on it. 

And three, that you had the most scrumptious body he had ever seen. 

Chris often prided himself on being a rational being, with a lot of self-control even for someone with a condition just like his, but as soon as he took in the shape of your body, it was almost as if he could feel his human mind short circuit and hear his inner wolf howling in desire.

He’d never been much of having a ‘type’ when it came to his partners, at least not physically. Sure, there were certain attributes he preferred, but in the grand scheme of things he’d fancied people with all different types of looks. That day, though, as he struggled to make coherent sentences and act normal while he showed you the place, Chris realised–quite puzzled, he might add–that maybe he did have a type, and maybe that type was you.

“So, this is the living room… As I mentioned on the phone, my friends often come to watch movies or just hang out. Don’t worry, though, they’re good people and very respectful. But I could totally understand if that’s something you can’t deal with”, why did you wear a sundress? Sure, it was starting to get hot out, but did you even realise how good that dress looked on you? You must’ve, there was no way you didn’t know how good you looked… Would you notice how hard he was trying not to look at your cleavage? He hoped you didn’t.

“If they truly are as nice as you say I don’t think I’ll mind, to be honest… If I move in I’d just… Prefer if they didn’t enter my room, I guess? Other than that I don’t mind”, you sounded genuine when you said it, and that did ease Chris’ worries a bit.

He took his sweet time showing you the place, the bathroom, what would be your bedroom if you moved in, even his bedroom, the kitchen, the pantry, the laundry room… All as an easy conversation flowed between you two, all as he struggled massively to not focus on the movement of your hips when you walked, to not focus on the sudden impulse he had to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you close.

Stop being a creep, Christopher… She’s a person. A person with feelings, stop being a creep… He repeated to himself every time he caught his eyes wandering, and for the most part, he was succeeding. At least, until you sat down on one of the kitchen stools and crossed one leg over the other, making the hem of your dress rise a bit, exposing the skin of your thighs.

This must be a test, he reasoned with himself.

The universe was trying to test his self-control by presenting you to him, all pretty, kind, and with the softest looking thighs he had ever seen. Chris could feel his hands literally itching with need, wondering if you’d feel as soft all over as you looked, but he quickly shoved all these thoughts as deep as he could within himself, focusing instead on the things you were telling him.

You were so nice. Just as his mother had told him, you seemed to be very sensible, very down to earth, and those traits made it so he had no reservations about having a human like you living with him. Sure, Chris knew it would be difficult to keep his condition hidden, but regardless of that immediate reaction he had to your presence, there was just something in the back of his mind telling him that having you here would be good for him and his pack, so he decided to follow that gut instinct, telling you you could move in whenever, and in a week’s time, you did.

It was honestly a bit odd at first. Chris had been living on his own for a while, and sure, his packmates would often drop by and stay over, but having an unfamiliar scent at home was certainly weird the first couple of weeks. Even then, he’d admit it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. If anything, it just added a bit of life to the otherwise silent–and sometimes lonely–space.

You quickly got acquainted with his friends, Chris supposed it was hard for you not to when they spent so much time coming to his flat, and somehow you never really seemed to question it. At one point, you even adopted their mannerisms.

Chris’ pack was very affectionate, he’d be the first one to admit it. Pet names were a constant thing among the pack, cuddling was a must, and even if you still didn’t know about their condition, you simply accepted their loving, overly affectionate behaviour as the norm, and even embraced it.

The fact that Chris and his friends were werewolves was something he had decided was best for you not to know, at least not from the get-go. He told his packmates he just didn’t see the need, that it could be dangerous–in reality, he just didn’t want to spook you. He feared that the moment you found out of their lycanthropy you’d leave, and even if he wasn’t sure why, he just didn’t want that to happen, so he would often conveniently dance around the truth whenever their condition was involved.

A month after you moved in, Felix suggested to have a movie night, simply saying ‘we haven’t had one in a while, and I could really use one to unwind!’ It had been a really long week for Chris, too, and he figured it’d be a good way to include you in their communal activities. So, as it was customary, those who wanted to join would come to Chris’ flat.

It was just Felix, Changbin, Seungmin, you, and Chris that night, the rest of his packmates had other things to do, so they had to skip it, which maybe was for the best, that way all of you wouldn’t have to cram on the sofa.

Felix had promised to bring a big box of macarons from his workplace, and he delivered. The box was filled to the brim with an assortment of different flavours–not an elegant presentation by any means, and some of them got crushed on the way, but that wouldn’t stop any of them from devouring each and every cookie.

When he placed it on the kitchen counter and opened it, Chris spotted the pink ones immediately. They were his favourite, but there were only a handful of them in the entire box, to which Felix gave him an apologetic smile, a ‘there just weren’t enough by the end of my shift’, and a shrug when Chris looked at him with a sad pout on his lips.

Chris took popcorn-making duties, and by the time it was ready and in its designated bowls, the vacuums he had for packmates had somehow eaten almost every single pink macaron, leaving only one in the box. He saw the scene play in slow motion as you made your way into the kitchen and reached for that last cookie.

Chris liked to give things to people, he really did, but that pink macaron had been holding together his last shred of sanity that day, so he acted quickly, snatching it out of the box and giving you a “nuh-uh, cutie. This one’s for me”.

“Aw, Chris!” You tried to reach for it, but he held it over your head, as far away from your grabby hands as he could. “C’mon! Those are so good!”

“I know they’re good! That’s why I want it”, he chuckled, pulling it further away from your reach when you tried to grab it again.

“Don’t be mean, babe”, you were pouting and everything, which had his heart clenching a bit, but you didn’t need to know that. He had to stay strong so he could have this delicious treat. “Give it to me?”

“Say please and maybe I’ll consider it”, he wasn’t going to consider it, which was why he had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. This was his strawberry macaron that he desperately needed, just the thought of the sugary cookie melting in his mouth had him already salivating.

However, Chris realised very quickly how ill-prepared he was for the situation he’d put himself in the moment you took a step closer to him, taking a hold of his hand that had been limp by his side, caressing the back of it with your thumb as you looked him right in the eyes with that pout on your lips.

“Please, baby… I really want it. I’ll bring you some tomorrow. Promise”, you brought your free hand to your heart, making a cross over it to emphasise that promise. “Please?”

For a second, he froze. His arm was getting tired from holding the stupid cookie over your head, and he dumbly stared at your face, shifting his focus from your lips to your eyes a few times. Did you… Did you know how cute you looked? Were you doing it on purpose? You must’ve known, right?

As soon as Chris started to feel his heart thump aggressively in his chest, he realised he had–very stupidly–walked himself into a corner. He had lost, and, in a poor attempt to not let you know how fast you had disarmed him, he sighed–rather dramatically–in what he hoped came across as annoyance.

“Alright, you can have it”, he brought the macaron down and held it to your lips. “But you’ll seriously have to buy me some tomorrow, yeah?”

The smile that came to your face made his heart skip a beat, and the second you took the macaron between your lips, lightly brushing his fingers in the process, Chris could’ve sworn his heart stopped completely. 

Before he could even register the movement, you had moved closer, suddenly pressing a quick, loud kiss to his cheek, muttering a ‘you’re the best, darling. I’ll bring you at least two dozen tomorrow!’ before you walked away and left the kitchen to join Seungmin and Felix on the sofa.

It all happened so fast, Chris could feel his skin burn where you had kissed him, and he realised too late that it was because he was blushing. Blushing! Why was he blushing? How dared his cheeks betray him this way?

“Dude…” Chris’ head snapped in the direction of Changbin’s voice, where he was looking at him from the other side of the kitchen counter, with the most insufferable grin on his face.

“Don’t”, Chris grumbled as he lifted a finger in Changbin’s direction, which only made Changbin’s grin widen. Grabbing the biggest bowl of popcorn, Chris decided to ignore his friend’s teasing eyes completely, finally leaving the kitchen to place the bowl on the coffee table and sit his ass as far away from you as possible. He could still feel his face burn, which made it all so much worse.

That night, after everyone left, after you retreated to your room and Chris was finally able to lay in bed, completely alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t stop thinking about that moment.

About the way your eyes were almost sparkling when he told you you could have the damn cookie, about the look of delight on your face when he fed it to you, about the damn kiss… It was all just a friendly gesture, really. You were just being nice, like you always were, but as his mind recounted the moment in an endless loop, he eventually realised that all those things he felt the day he saw you for the first time had just been warning signs.

He tried to push all these thoughts to the back of his mind again. You were his roommate. His human roommate who had no idea what Chris and his friends were. It was stupid of him to think about you as anything other than that, and yet, the more he interacted with you, the more time passed of you living with him at his den, the harder it became to ignore what he felt, especially whenever you went out on dates.

His logical, human side always tried to brush off the fact that you were dating people. After all, sometimes, you did come back home looking happy, as if you even had fun, which was a good thing. But his idiotic, wolf side just hated whenever you came home smelling like other men. He couldn’t–and wouldn’t–stop you because of it, of course. That would’ve been absolutely insane of him to do, but one day, when he saw your laundry hanging on the drying rack he just couldn’t help himself… 

Chris figured scenting your clothes wouldn’t hurt, right? You wouldn’t notice… And other people might not even notice, either, but he just wanted you to come home and still smell like him, and frequently, that worked. He’d admit he even grew a bit more shameless about it as time went on, hugging you or kissing your forehead before you left the house to leave his scent on you–something you never really questioned, either.

Whenever his pack members commented on it, Chris simply told them it was for protection, to keep you safe from other wolves–he wasn’t sure if they believed him, considering they wouldn’t stop teasing him about it every time they could…

By the fourth month of you living here, he was sure he had mastered the art of Ignoring His Feelings.

He would still scent your clothes, especially on nights like this one, where you were going on a date with some guy. But other than that he was doing an excellent job at not thinking about you in any ways other than platonic–or at least, that was what Chris tried to tell himself.

Truth was, he still had those impulsive thoughts from time to time. Soft. Nice. Pretty… 

He would quickly stop his train of thought whenever he caught himself, disregarding the almost instinctual way his hands flexed whenever he looked at you. Tonight, before you left, he tried his best to absolutely ignore the dress you were wearing and how good you looked in it, and how it hugged your curves so nicely, and the way your thighs looked in those tights… Would he ever be able to touch them? Squeeze them? Maybe even kiss–

The sudden sound of growls startled him, breaking his train of thought. Chris chuckled, amused by the way Hyunjin, Jisung, and Jeongin chased their tails while running in circles in the middle of his living room. “What the hell are you even doing?”

“They’re trying to see who can catch his tail faster”, Felix replied simply, taking a sip of the soda in his hand, slinging an arm over Chris’ shoulders.

“You’re gonna hurt yourselves. Stop that”, Minho grumbled from the kitchen, where he and Seungmin prepared snacks for the night.

Among the growls coming from the three spinning wolves, and the constant talking between the rest, Chris failed to hear the sound of the front door opening. It took him a second too late to be hit by the smell of your floral scent, and by the time he had registered it and jumped to his feet from where he had been slouching on the sofa, it was too late.

You stood wide eyed by the hall, looking between the three wolves in the middle of the living room. For a second, everyone froze, looking in your direction, and before Chris could even say anything, he stared in horror as Jeongin started to shift back into his human form.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Jeongin had the nerve to say to you, as if he wasn’t buttnaked, as if he hadn’t just shapeshifted right in front of your eyes.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times. Your gaze shifted from the two wolves and Jeongin to everyone else in the room, landing on Chris last. He saw your hands tremble a bit, and, in an instant, before he could even register the movement, you were bolting out the door.

Chris immediately sprung into action, chasing you, calling for you. “Wait!”

You weren’t supposed to be here. You had a date. You were even prepared in case you wouldn’t even come back tonight, or, at least, that was what you told Chris before you left earlier that day. Panic brewed quickly inside of him, he really couldn’t let you go like this.

Chris caught up to you on the stairs, right on the landing between one floor and the other. Taking a hold of your elbow, he tugged you back before you kept going on your way. “Wait! Listen–”

“What the fuck?!” You tried to pry yourself away. In a different circumstance, Chris would’ve let you go on the spot, but this was no ordinary situation, so he simply tightened his hold, keeping you in place and within reach. Your eyes widened, and he saw immediately the exact moment you realised the extent of his strength.

“Listen to me. It’s not–”

“Don’t you dare say that!” Your eyes frantically roamed his face, and the combination of confusion and fear he could see in your eyes made his heart clench. “What does it look like, then?! Huh, Christopher?!”

Chris opened and closed his mouth a few times, but the words wouldn’t come out. What should he say? That what you saw wasn’t real? That you must’ve misinterpreted it all? That would’ve been the right thing to do, wouldn’t it? But as he looked into your eyes, he just couldn’t find it in him to lie to you.

“I just saw Jeongin’s body twist and turn in ways I would’ve never even imagined were possible!” Your lower lip was trembling slightly, the words that came out of your mouth were unsteady, and your scent was starting to tint with what Chris could only define as panic, which in turn was making him panic. “What the fuck was that about?! What are you people?”

“I– We–” The words just wouldn’t come out of his mouth. He should’ve had a plan for this, it was only a matter of time for you to find out their little secret, but he truly hadn’t expected it to be so soon. 

Upon his unresponsiveness, you tried to pull yourself away from him again, and Chris couldn’t help but tighten his hold on your arm in response. He hadn’t meant to, but he was going into fight or flight and his body seemed to be trying its absolute best to keep you from leaving.

You winced, and the grimace on your face started the alarm bells in his head. “Chris… Please. It hurts”.

Chris let go of your arm as if it had caught on fire, and when you brought your other hand to soothe the area he had been holding onto, when he saw that look of discomfort on your face, he couldn’t help but feel incredibly guilty.

He’d failed you.

He hurt you, he failed you, and the amount of distress that realisation brought him was quickly taking a hold of each and every single one of his nerve-endings.

“God, I’m so sorry”, Chris took a step back, avoiding your eyes entirely. “So, so sorry… I didn’t mean–”

“What are you, Chris?” Your voice trembled again, but it didn’t seem like you’d run away.

With a deep intake of breath, Chris tried to find the courage to look you in the eyes again. “I’m… I’m a werewolf”.

You blinked, looking him up and down, looking at him like he had three heads. “A… A werewolf?”

“Mm… Only Jeongin shifted when he saw you, probably out of stress or because he panicked… The three wolves… It was Hyunjin, Jisung, and Jeongin. We’re all werewolves”.

“Werewolves… As in… Half human, half wolf? Like in fairy tales?” You sounded genuinely incredulous, and Chris couldn’t blame you.

He shrugged, tucking his hands in his short’s pockets, looking away from you again, fixing his gaze on the floor. “They’re not just fairy tales. There’s a whole world of creatures out there you don’t even know about, but it’s there”.

“Can’t believe this…” You muttered to yourself, threading your fingers through your hair, tugging the strands between your fingers.

“You… You can’t tell anyone–”

“Who the hell would I tell?!” You chuckled, a chuckle that lacked any semblance of amusement, and it made him wince.

You both stayed in silence, neither of you sure on what to say to the other. Until finally, you heaved a sigh, turning to continue your walk down the stairs. “Werewolves… This is all madness…”

“Wait–!”

“Don’t!” You whipped your face in Chris’ direction. Your hands were shaking. Actually, it looked like your entire body was shaking. “Don’t follow me”, was the last thing you told him, and he would never forget the look in your eyes that day, completely lost, void of your usual shine.

Chris just stood there for a moment, listening to the quick clack clack clacks of your heels as you walked the steps, until he finally heard the main door of the building opening and eventually slamming closed. He could feel his heart ache, just the memory of the tone of your voice and that look in your eyes made his heart race for all the wrong reasons.

Chris was at a loss, unable to comprehend how it all got out of hand so quickly. He should’ve known, this was bound to happen eventually, they couldn’t keep hiding from you forever. But what he hadn’t expected was the feeling of utter dejection the entire exchange brought him.

After a few minutes, when Chris was back in his flat, with the seven pairs of eyes staring worriedly at him, he realised he had to get a grip.

“Chris, I’m sorry. It’s my fault–” Jeongin started, looking absolutely ashamed, but Chris stopped him immediately. 

“Don’t worry about it. She was going to find out eventually”, he was honestly proud at how even his voice was coming out of his mouth, and he hoped his packmates couldn’t feel the weird emotional state he was in. He shot Minho and Changbin a quick look, and they seemed to catch onto his signal fairly quickly–if the way they stiffened was anything to go by. “You guys go on. I’m… Tired. I’ll just be in my room, Yeah?” 

No one seemed to question it, for which Chris was grateful. He needed some time alone to think, but even then the presence of his packmates just out of his door did comfort him a bit.

You were gone for a long while after that. The mood of the pack had almost reached the core of the planet by how low it was, but admittedly, Chris had taken the biggest blow. Eventually, everyone noticed, but no one other than Minho talked to him about it. ‘She’ll come around, I’m sure’, he told Chris one day, but it was hard for him to believe those words when he could still get a phantom of the panic in your scent whenever he was on his own. 

You didn’t tell her in time. You hurt her. You failed her… His brain wouldn’t stop nagging him day and night. He tried to convince himself that there was no need for him to feel the way he did, that these things happened sometimes, but he knew it wouldn’t be that easy, he had to make it up to you somehow.

He tried to text you, a ‘hey… how’re you’ that you didn’t reply to. The rest of the pack tried to as well, explaining as much as they could, but you also didn’t reply to them. No one had been able to get a hold of you, and Chris was just losing all hope. 

Until seven days after the entire thing the sound of a key going into his front door’s keyhole startled him, pumping adrenaline through his system, making him jump out of his bed. By the time you were opening the door and stepping into the flat Chris was already coming out of his room, looking at you.

“So…” You cleared your throat once you closed the door behind you, dropping your keys in their designated bowl on the bureau, and crossing your arms over your chest. “Werewolves?”

Chris nodded, staying rooted on the spot, afraid any movement he made would scare you in any way. “Werewolves”.

“Does it… Does it hurt when you shift?” Out of all the things you could’ve asked, that wasn’t exactly what Chris thought you’d ask first, not after being away for so long, but he decided to answer regardless. There was no point in hiding it now, the cat–or should he say, the wolf…–was already out of the bag.

He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest as well. “It’s not comfortable, but it doesn’t really hurt hurt”.

“Mmm…” You stayed silent for a bit, until your eyes found Chris’, and you took a step closer. “So… You guys are like… A pack? A pack of wolves?” Chris simply nodded in response, and since he didn’t say anything else, you continued. “Why would you even let me move in?”

“You’re nice”, Chris replied immediately, maybe a bit too fast. But it was the truth, so he felt like saying it. “Very nice. At the time it just… Made sense to me”.

“So, you’re like… Their leader? What’s it called… Alpha?”

Chris chuckled. “Where did you even get this from? But yes, I’m the alpha of the pack”. 

“It’s amazing what you can find on the Internet these days”, you shrugged. “Did you ever even have intentions of telling me all this? Did you lie to me about anything else?”

Chris shook his head. “No, we… We’re exactly the same people you met. The fact that we are what we are was the only thing I didn’t…” Chris sighed. “Honestly? I wanted to tell you. But I was… A bit scared you’d get spooked and leave”.

“You don’t want me to leave?” You sounded genuinely incredulous, and it puzzled him. 

“‘Course not”, Chris said it like it was the most logical thing in the world. In reality, it wasn’t. You were a human, a human living in a werewolf den. It seemingly didn’t make sense, but to Chris, somehow, it made all the sense in the world. “Do you want to leave?”

You looked at him for a moment. Chris held his breath, watching you closely once you finally moved, coming towards him.

Tentatively, you walked into his space, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close to you. As soon as your scent engulfed him fully, his body reacted almost on its own, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you close, and heaving an almost involuntary sigh of relief.

“I don’t”, you mumbled against his shoulder, and the way your lips brushed his bare skin had his ears heating up. He should’ve put on a t-shirt before he left his room to meet you… “You guys… Are really nice, too”.

Chris hummed, hugging you a bit tighter for a while, for as long as you’d let him. Eventually, you were speaking again.

“So… If I’m staying at this werewolf den, does that mean you’re my alpha, too?”

Chris was glad you were not a werewolf. If you had been you would’ve heard how quickly his heart started to beat when you said that. The mere idea that you’d call him your alpha awoke something in him. Something he couldn’t unpack right here right now with you in his arms. 

You clearly didn’t know what that meant, you just made a logical assumption based on the little information you probably had, but if he ever heard you call him your alpha out loud he was sure he’d explode. So he decided to reach a middle ground, innocuous enough you wouldn’t be able to tell how much he was struggling with this. 

“Only–” His voice betrayed him, coming out of his mouth a bit strained. So he cleared his throat, trying to act normal. “Only if you’re a member of the pack, I suppose”. 

“Am I?” You asked, sounding genuinely curious. 

“If… If you want. Being a member of the pack… Entitles many things. if you’re willing to abide by those things then of course you can”. 

You hummed, burying your face further in the crook of his neck. 

“For what is worth, I… Already see you as one. It’s been that way for a while, actually”, Chris could’ve sworn he heard your heart start beating a bit faster after he said that, and in turn his heart started to beat faster in his chest.

“Oh?” You pulled away from his neck, finding his gaze, looking him straight in the eyes. “So I’m under the big bad wolf’s protection, huh?” 

Chris huffed out an incredulous laugh, amused by your choice of words, but he couldn’t help himself when the following words came out of his mouth. “Well, I’m not doing a good job at that, am I?”

You frowned. Smooth it out. Make her smile, his instincts told him, once again pushing to the front of his mind those impulses he so desperately tried to ignore. 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I mean…” Chris suddenly couldn’t hold your gaze, but the way his eyes decided to focus on your mouth were certainly not making it any easier. Plump, soft, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss–stop. Focus… “The day you left, on the stairs… I hurt you. I didn’t mean to, and I shouldn’t have. I’m incredibly sorry”. 

You went quiet for a moment, your eyes flickering between his, looking at him so intensely Chris could feel heat start to creep on the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how close you were. Finally, you inhaled sharply. 

“I forgive you”.

Chris blinked, and his brows furrowed. “But–” 

“What do you mean ‘but’?” You chuckled, untangling your arms away from his neck to cradle his face in your hands instead. “You apologised, and I accept your apology. Honestly, it was barely anything. I… Understand what you were trying to do. In the four months I’ve been living here you have never hurt me, not even made me feel uncomfortable, Chris. This is all insane, completely nuts, and I’m warning you right now, I’m gonna be super annoying about it, but I trust you. All of you. But you especially”. 

At that moment, Chris pulled himself away from you entirely, hopefully before you noticed how quickly his cheeks were flushing, making his way into the living room and rambling on about how you could ask him anything you wanted and offering you dinner from what he had prepared that night for himself.

It seemed like you took a lot of interest in their condition after that. 

‘So that’s why you’re so warm?’

‘That’s why y’all leave once a month? To run under the full moon, seriously?’

‘Can you eat chocolate?’ 

‘Would you show me your wolf form?’ 

‘What’s a knot?’

You were really curious, maybe a bit too much. Chris was more than happy to answer your questions, but when you started to ask about mating, and knots, and ruts, and heats, he’d admit he got a little flustered–maybe embarrassingly so. Mostly because, whenever you so much as mentioned anything that got too into the topic of sex, he’d just get waves and waves of improper thoughts. He’d wonder too much, he’d start getting worked up as if he was a fucking teenager who’d never touched a person in his life, so he tried to avoid those questions whenever he could.

The rest of the pack welcomed you back with open arms. They liked you before, but now that you knew their secret, it was almost as if something flipped in the way they interacted with you.

The first time one of them called you ‘mum’, Chris almost dug himself a Christopher-sized hole and buried himself alive. It was Seungmin who started the entire thing, because of course it was, Seungmin loved to see him struggle the most, clearly. And when you asked Chris about it, he simply told you the rest of the pack started to see you as a person they could lean on–which was half of the truth, he would’ve been caught dead before admitting to you that they were rubbing in his face how absolutely smitten he was.

He knew it before, of course. How he felt. Even if he tried to ignore it, if he tried to pretend it was all an instinctual thing because he had a pretty girl living with him, there was no way he could lie to himself for much longer. The moment you found out of their lycanthropy and you decided to stay and help, instead of running away in fear, he just couldn’t deny it any longer.

Sometimes, it felt as if the universe had taken all these qualities he could’ve ever needed in his life, all these qualities he hadn’t even realised he yearned for, and put them all in a person, put them all in you and threw you at his doorstep in a pretty sundress, as if to say ‘here, this is the one. Good fucking luck’. Honestly, in retrospect, Chris stood no chance. There was no way he wouldn’t have developed feelings for you.

Regardless of how he felt, he tried his best to be respectful, to not make you uncomfortable in any way. He really did try his best, but by heaven and hell if there weren’t moments where he almost risked it all…

Chris could still remember the first time he saw you wearing a pair of leggings. The stretchy material hugged your lower limbs so perfectly it didn’t exactly leave much to the imagination… The sight of the fabric stretched over your perfectly round bottom and your big thighs almost broke down all those protective walls he had decided to put between you and him–especially when the very first thought he had as soon as he saw you on them was to bend you over the kitchen counter, rip the thing to pieces, and dive face first into your cunt from behind.

He couldn’t help but feel guilty every time he had those thoughts about you. In his mind, you just didn’t deserve that, for some horny creep to be secretly looking at you and thinking all these lewd, dirty things about you, but the more time passed, the more he got to know you, those thoughts became more and more frequent. And the most painful part of it all wasn’t just the undeniable sexual aspect of it all.

Chris often wanted to talk to you about anything and everything, to hold you, kiss you, feed you, cuddle you, just overall take care of you, and that feeling only intensified as soon as you started to take care of his packmates, as soon as you inadvertently fell fully into the position of pack parent right next to him for real. Sure, the rest of the pack members looked up to you to some degree, and they often called you mum to tease him, but he hadn’t truly grasped the extent of it all.

Chris hadn��t noticed that was what was happening at first, but one day, he saw as you took care of a sick Seungmin so attentively it just hit him like a ton of bricks.

You were so perfect for that role in his pack, and the fact that you were doing all those things, without even being romantically involved with him made him feel both warm with love and pained with longing. He knew then that you were supposed to be there next to him, with him, but that was something he couldn’t push on you, not when it didn’t seem like you were feeling the same things towards him in the slightest.

Or at least, that was what Chris tried to tell himself, to delude himself into not overstepping those boundaries between you two. The reality was that, sometimes, Chris thought he might’ve had a chance.

Times when he hugged you tight and he could hear your heartbeat pick up its pace, or when you sent him silly memes that you thought he’d find funny, or times when you teased him, almost, almost as if you were flirting with him, or whenever you took interest in his lycanthropy, or…

He often recalled very fondly how you would snuggle into him whenever you fell asleep on the sofa while watching a movie with him. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, he’d wake up with you in his arms, with your head tucked under his chin. Those times, he’d always pretend to be asleep for as long as he could, selfishly enjoying your warmth until you eventually woke up, gave him a kiss on the cheek with a racing heart, and mumbled sleepy apologies before retreating to your room. He’d tried to convince himself that you possibly feeling the same way was all wishful thinking, so he never truly entertained those thoughts.

Even then, there were things he just couldn’t stop himself from doing. At some point, scenting your clothes just wasn’t enough for him, so he started lending you articles of clothing of his–hoodies, mostly. He would’ve loved to see you wearing his t-shirts, or his bathrobe, but hoodies were a good enough compromise in his mind. He’d always give them to you whenever you showed any sign of feeling even remotely chilly, and he soon realised that that need of having you wrapped in his scent only grew bigger the closer his rut was.

The first rut Chris went into after you moved in was, quite honestly, insane. He was able to recognise the signs early enough to leave the flat he shared with you and stay at one of the vacant ones in the building, and when it finally hit him, it hit him hard. He didn’t think he’d had such a painful rut in his life–aside from the first one, which to this day he was sure was the perfect representation of what being in hell would feel like. 

Logically, he could’ve asked a friend to help him out. It was always best to deal with these things with another person there, but, somehow, the mere thought of being with someone like that after he realised his feelings for you was… Really unpleasant, so he decided to bear it on his own.

During that rut, all his inner wolf wanted was to have you. Your scent plagued his mind, the mental image of you and your thighs and your soft body had him with his fist around his cock the entire time, but it was never enough. He yearned to pleasure you, to taste you, to make you come undone for him as many times as he could, to have you in every possible way he could, to pump you full of his cum and breed you, and the fact that he couldn’t do that had him in both physical and emotional pain.

The worst part was that Chris felt like shit not only because whenever he was able to orgasm it didn’t seem to quench his desires a single bit, but also because he was thinking of you in such a way again. At the time, he was so desperate he could hardly think about it, but as soon as his rut subsided he had this immense guilt plaguing him. So much so he wasn’t able to look you in the eyes for a week straight after, so he swore he would try his best to never break your trust like that ever again.

And for a handful of months, it worked. He’d still share his hoodies with you, still have the need to hug you, and touch you, and take care of you, but whenever his mind drifted too much he’d give himself a reality check. She’s your roommate. Your friend. You’re more than just a horny dog, Christopher, he’d berate himself often, keeping his distance however he could.

It was hard sometimes, though. You’d taken this habit of looking him in the eyes… You used to do it before, too, but somehow it seemed different lately. Your gaze would linger on his for a few seconds longer than usual, enough to trigger his primal instincts, to make him want to assert his dominance–normally, that’d mean he’d want to physically fight for it, but with you, the only way his body wanted to assert his dominance was by bending you over and fucking you stupid, which didn’t help his case one bit.

It was incredibly silly of him to think that way whenever you looked him in the eyes for too long, considering that, even if you could, he just knew there was no way you’d challenge him for his position in the pack. So he’d always talk himself down of his instinctual reaction, reminding himself of who you were, of how he couldn’t let himself hurt you, or cross your boundaries in any way.

But his resolve crumbled a little over a year after you moved in, when Chris saw your freshly washed clothes messily sprawled on your bed while you were ovulating, almost as if you had prepared a pretty little nest for him to breed you in. That, coupled with the fact that you were wearing his clothes at the same time, triggered his already upcoming rut right then and there.

His mind clouded quickly, your floral scent filled every single crevice within him, making his alpha instincts kick in. Pleasure, dominate, breed, breed, breed… The words resonated repeatedly within him as he struggled to keep it together, to not jump you on the spot and do something he would regret, to not hurt you.

When he desperately tried to leave the flat, you just wouldn’t let him, you were clearly worried about him, and if there was one thing Chris had learnt about you was that it wasn’t in your nature to just ignore a friend in need. But God, you just smelt so good… It was getting increasingly harder to not act on his impulses. 

You kept looking him in the eyes, and it wasn’t making it any easier, not when his instincts wouldn’t just shut the fuck up. Show her. Make her submit. Dominate, dominate, dominate…

‘Go lock yourself in your fucking room while I can still think and hold back’, he held to his last shred of sanity until the very last second, all while his humanity and his inner wolf fought for dominance over his actions during the entire interaction.

What he hadn’t expected, though, was for you to return his feelings, for you to want him. ‘What if I don’t want you to hold back?’ 

In a second, as soon as the words left your mouth, he finally let himself see, hear, and smell all the signs. Your flushed face, your heart thumping aggressively in your chest, the smell of your arousal lingering in the air… He simply snapped. The second you gave him your consent and he finally got a taste of you, Chris knew there was no going back for him. He was in deep.

He wouldn’t be able to get over the feeling of your lips on his, the sounds that came out of your mouth whenever he touched you, the smell of your scent laced with so much lust he was almost vibrating with excitement at the prospect of all the things he could do to you, of how good he’d make you feel.

‘Wanna be mine? Just say it, love, and I’ll make you mine. All mine’.

Claim, claim, claim… No, no claiming, Christopher. Too soon, too soon, that’s not what she needs right now…

‘Wanna be yours… Wanted to for so long, too’.

For so long, for so long, for so long… She’s mine, mine, mine, all for me…

Finally, Chris was able to let go of his inhibitions and fulfil all those desires and needs he’d had for the longest time. Not only was he able to quench his thirst with your essence on his tongue, or release all that tension that kept on building within him with the intoxicating feel of the soft skin of your inner thighs and the velvety walls of your cunt wrapped around his cock, but also he made you feel so much pleasure you were barely even able to talk and walk after he did. That simple fact had his chest swelling with pride, had him going through so many waves of his rut that by the fourth day of fucking you nonstop he could barely stand the tiniest movement around his cock.

Chris was being driven by both his emotional and physical needs the entire time, driven by his instincts to fulfil both his and your desires, but by the fourth night of his rut he had regained some of his human clarity back. It was just as you two were having a bath, as you took care of him, washing his hair–something no one had ever come remotely close to doing after he became an adult–that he came to a very important realisation.

Not only had you taken the time to understand him and the role he had within his pack, you’d taken the time to understand each and every single member in it, you supported them all in every way you could, and even though you were human, your body was able to take Chris in his most animalistic state. So it was right then, right as he looked at the soft, focused features of your face when you massaged his scalp, that he realised that the universe had really made you all for him, perfect just for him.

He’d said this to you time and time again throughout his rut, because it just felt right to say them, but only then did he realise how true it all was.

It wasn’t unheard of. It happened often in werewolves. Not to every single one, but it was often enough that he was able to connect the dots. It was said that there would always be someone out there that would be able to strengthen those areas a wolf might be lacking in. And for Chris, that someone was you. 

Even when he woke up the next day, with his mind finally clear of his more animalistic impulses and desires, he knew that to be the truth.

It was a lot to take in, and if it was a lot for him who had been labelled Mr Intense several times throughout his life by both friends and partners, he was sure it would’ve been a lot for you, too. So he decided to file this for later, for it to be discussed when the time was right.

As it was now, he felt as if everything had been done backwards, so he had to start settling the foundations of a possible relationship with you–sure, you’d let him fuck you silly for four days straight, but what if you had been influenced by his pheromones? What if you realised you didn’t want him like that? That it’d be too much?

So he asked you out on a date, he wanted to take you to the seasonal fair, and to his delight–and maybe relief…–you accepted. It was almost comical how fast his heart would beat whenever you got close to him during that date, especially so considering he had already told you so many filthy, intimate things during his rut, but as you tugged him along to rides and games and food stalls, it all felt different to him somehow. More meaningful, perhaps.

That evening, when you were both walking back home, as Chris held your hand tightly in his, right under the seasonal lights that had been placed above the road, he just couldn’t help himself when he cradled your face and kissed you. A slow, sensual kiss that had his heart doing flips in his chest, and he simply revelled in the way you moved closer to him, in the way you held his coat tightly in your hands, in the way your lips moved against his.

A motion so natural he just couldn’t believe he hadn’t been doing this since the day he met you. When he pulled back, he asked you to be his girlfriend, and the moment you said yes, his heart soared, and he couldn’t help but feel incredibly giddy.

Now, Chris could hold you as much as he wanted, touch you as much as he wanted, he could tell you everything without having to measure his words, and he was so, so ready to enjoy every second of it. To enjoy every single second he’d spend with you–even more than he did before.

You were still sleeping in your bedroom, or at least, you did for the first few days after your date. That was fine by Chris, he had been making up for the lost time at work because of the ‘unexpected sick leave’ he had to take during his rut, so he was coming home late at night, barely even seeing your pretty face before he took a shower and dropped dead on his bed until the next day. It was best for you to sleep on your own so he wouldn’t disturb you. That was Chris’ reasoning.

At least, until tonight.

“Hey”, your voice made him look away from his phone and over his shoulder, finding you peeking your head from behind the door with a shy smile on your lips.

“Why are you up? You should be sleeping, love”, Chris turned, lying on his back and fixing his eyes on you.

“I missed you”, you replied simply, making your way into the room, your words effectively bringing heat to the back of his neck.

Chris let out a content sigh, watching you get on his bed and finally straddle his hips. His hands settled on your thighs, rubbing up and down in soothing motions. If only it weren’t so cold so you weren’t wearing these pyjama bottoms… They were cute, fluffy, with doughnuts printed all over them, but he selfishly wished he could feel your skin under his hands.

“Missed you, too. So much”.

You leaned into him, resting your entire body weight on him to press a kiss to his lips. Chris could definitely get used to this. To the feeling of you pressed against him, even with the duvet separating your bodies, he just loved feeling you close, especially when you kissed him so softly, so… Lovingly.

You’d been his girlfriend for a total of three days, it had been almost an entire week since the end of his rut, and you two hadn’t had sex since then. You’d told him you needed some time to recover, which was perfectly fine. Chris himself felt like he needed a short break as well, after all, getting back into his normal rhythm after a rut was always a process.

Besides that, though, your comfort was always his first priority, it had always been that way, but even more so now. He wanted to wait until you felt fine, until you were ready for it again. 

Although, he’d admit it wasn’t particularly easy. Not when you looked Like That all the time and he just wanted to sink his teeth on your soft flesh any time he got the tiniest glimpse of your skin. 

Sure, he was no longer in a rut, he was a coherent man, with coherent thoughts, completely capable of simply enjoying your presence without escalating any further than a hug or a kiss. But tonight, as his tongue made its way into your mouth, as your hips rolled against him, as his hands started to roam your back, only to settle on your rear to fondle the supple flesh, Chris was truly starting to feel ravenous, desperate to feel you, desperate to make you feel incredibly good.

“Chris, baby…” you mumbled against his lips, resuming your motions immediately after the words left your mouth, pressing pecks on his lips. 

“Hm?” Chris took your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently, gripping your buttcheeks tighter, and the whimper that came out of your mouth almost, almost made him lightheaded with how fast blood rushed to his cock. 

“Want you…”

Chris’ eyes snapped open, and he pulled away from you to look you in the eyes, finding your blown pupils and flushed cheeks. Beautiful, gorgeous, pretty… Swallowing, he brought a hand to your cheek, softly dragging his thumb over your skin. “Pretty… You sure? Are you feeling okay?”

“Mm”, with a hard roll of your hips to emphasise your statement, you pressed a brief kiss on his lips. “Positive. I’ve almost forgotten how you feel like inside me, baby. That’s a crime”.

Chris huffed an incredulous chuckle. “So soon? Damn, must’ve not fucked you enough, then”.

“Oh, you fucked me plenty. I just want more”, a grin spread on your lips, looking utterly shameless, and Chris would lie if he said it didn’t excite him.

“Greedy, huh?” 

Before you could even attempt to bite back, Chris rolled to the side, taking you with him, effectively wrapping you in the duvet, like the most adorable burrito, and trapping you under him, eliciting a yelp from your lips with the movement.

“Not fair”, God, you shouldn’t be allowed to pout, it disarmed him way too quickly. Chris couldn’t help but peck your lips, as many times as necessary, until you started giggling.

“What? My pretty baby wants to be on top?” Chris placed a kiss on your cheekbone. Your skin was warm, soft, you smelt like your moisturiser and your floral scent, and he just absolutely loved it.

“Maybe”, you mumbled, sounding more distracted now that Chris’ lips had descended to your neck, now that he was kissing and nibbling your skin.

Your hands roamed his back, making him shiver, especially so when you dragged your fingers down his spine, finally reaching his bum, and confidently squeezing. “Why are you naked?” You chuckled, clearly amused, and Chris settled his weight on his elbows so he could look at your face better.

“I was already ready to sleep, baby. You know I sleep naked”.

“You do?” You laughed, and it made him smile. “I thought the kids were saying that just to mess with you”.

“Oh, they were messing with me”, Chris chuckled. “But they weren’t lying”.

“So… If we start sleeping together, you’d sleep naked, too?” You squeezed his buttcheek again, a bit harder this time. It was barely anything, but it was working him up way more than it should have, for sure. Chris was already hard and leaking just by your presence, by your warmth and your kisses, but even then the simple implication that you wanted to share a bed with him every night had his heart doing flips in his chest, had his cock twitching with need.

“Would you mind?” He pulled away from you enough to untangle the duvet away from your body. As soon as you were released, he tugged on your pyjama top, and you let him get it off of you immediately.

“Not one bit”, was all you replied, and Chris gave you a hum of acknowledgement just as he tugged your bottoms off.

He got, admittedly, a bit distracted. Of course you wouldn’t be wearing any underwear under your pyjamas, you were ready for bed already, but it still caught him off guard.

The marks he’d left on your body during his rut were starting to fade, and all he wanted right now was to mark you all over again. Did he have a problem? Maybe he did. As his hands made their way to cup your tits, squeezing them briefly only to finally settle on playing with your nipples, the sounds that were coming out of your mouth made it incredibly hard for him to care.

“How’re you this pretty, huh?” While Chris kept softly rolling your nipples between his fingers, your hands came to hold his wrists, gently rubbing his skin with your thumbs as you arched your back, moaning oh, so sweetly for him.

“Chris, babe…” Your hold on his wrists tightened, shifting Chris’ attention from your breasts to your eyes again. The smell of your arousal had him literally salivating, had him feeling like a hungry dog, ready to devour you whole, and when you dropped the most desperate ‘kiss me’ he couldn’t help but do just that, removing his hands from your chest to hug you close.

You whined as soon as his lips landed on yours, moulding to yours time and time again, eventually pushing his tongue inside your mouth, savouring you, swallowing every sigh and every whimper that fell from your lips. He kissed you for a while, enjoying the feeling of you holding him tightly, enjoying the way your heartbeat kept picking up its pace, until the slow, deep kisses turned messier, more eager, until he couldn’t ignore just how badly he wanted to have a taste of you.

As he started his descent down your torso, kissing your clavicle, your chest, sucking your nipple into his mouth to play with the hardened bud for a bit with his tongue, he couldn’t help his hands from roaming your body. Your thighs, your hips, your sides, anywhere he could reach.

His fingers sunk on your flesh, eliciting quiet whimpers from your mouth, just as he kept licking the pebbled skin of your nipples and your hardened buds. Chris just really couldn’t help himself from kneading and squeezing your skin, tracing every dip, every roll, every curve, until his mouth finally resumed its path further down your body.

“Baby…” You mumbled once Chris’ mouth attached to your lower belly, nipping and kissing and sucking on your skin, making you squirm.

“Hm?” Chris would admit he was only partially listening, there was not much coherent thinking going on in his brain at that moment, all he could think about was you, you, you, and your soft skin, and your floral scent, and how it was all heavily tinted with lust.

You didn’t say anything, though, you simply inhaled a shaky breath once Chris’ attention was shifting again, from your lower belly to your mound, and finally, bringing his forearms under your thighs, he pushed them towards your chest, attaching his mouth to your skin so he could repaint all those marks that had started to fade.

He vaguely registered the words ‘such delicious thighs, fuck…’ coming out of his mouth, just as he vaguely registered the whimper you gave him in response. He repeated his motions until he was satisfied with the amount of freshly made love bites on your thighs, finally directing his attention to your dripping heat.

Chris truly was just a simple man.

A simple man with simple needs.

Sinking his fingers in the soft skin of your thighs, keeping you spread open for him, he finally dived, licking a slow, fat stripe from your entrance to your clit, all but moaning at your taste on his tongue, brows pulled together in bliss.

Chris got comfortable, laying on his stomach, and slurping you up. The moans and whines and whimpers that came out of your mouth with each and every single one of his movements, the way your fingers threaded through his hair, the way your hand pushed on his head to get him impossibly closer to you, only encouraged him more. Your free hand came to rest on one of his, and he wasted no time letting go of your thigh to hold your hand instead, linking his fingers with yours, relishing the warmth of your palm against his.

“Oh, fuck…” Your legs started to tremble as soon as he eased two fingers into you, and his mind raced with the feel of your heat wrapped around his digits. So warm, soft… He wasn’t sure if the words actually left his mouth or if it was just his instincts taking a hold of his mind, but he honestly didn’t care, either. 

As he started to add more and more fingers, until he was stretching you open as much as he could, your thighs clamped around his head, and Chris truly, truly couldn’t contain the literal animalistic growl that came out of his mouth, muffling against your skin as he diligently sucked your clit into his mouth and licked it with his tongue.

Letting go of your hand to grip your outer thigh, he simply encouraged you to keep that position, to borderline suffocate him with your legs, and honestly for all he cared he could’ve died right then and there, choked by the most delicious thighs he’d ever had the pleasure of touching, of kissing, of fucking–

Shit, he wanted to fuck your thighs. Would you ever let him do that again? Between the feeling of your walls around his fingers, your taste on his tongue, the sinful sounds coming out of your mouth, and the mere thought of fucking your thighs again, he could feel himself start to leak even more fluids, surely soiling his bedsheets–not like he cared much about it, to be honest.

Chris decided to ignore that thought altogether. He didn’t want to ruin the mood by bringing that up, not right now. So he shifted his focus back into the now, back to your hand tugging his hair and his fingers in your cunt and his mouth on your clit.

For a split second, he wondered if he should stop, if he should slow down to prolong this further, to eventually build you up once again and enhance your impending release. He’d been the one teasing you about it earlier, but the truth was, tonight, he was the greedy one, desperate to bring you unadulterated pleasure, so he didn’t stop.

Instead, he just sped up his fingers, thrusting harder, curling them up against that sweet spot within your walls in the exact way he’d learnt would have you curling your toes and flexing your thighs. He sucked harder, licked harder, revelling in the cries coming out of your mouth, revelling in the feel of you, all soft and warm and his.

When you came, moaning his name like the sweetest song he’d ever heard, Chris’ thoughts hazed, feeling your walls clenching repeatedly around his fingers, feeling your thighs twitching slightly around his head. And the moment you tried to pull yourself away from him, he just didn’t budge, bringing his hand from where it had been gripping your thigh to your hip, holding you tight and pinning you in place.

“Oh, fuck… Fuck, fuck, Chris, you–Shit–” Whatever it was you were trying to tell him got caught in your throat, all words replaced by broken moans and whines, which only fueled that determination that had quickly built within him. Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, pleasure…

Chris didn’t relent until you were shaking with a consecutive high, until you tugged on his hair and begged with a breathless ‘Shit, Chris, darling, can’t handle it anymore, please…’ effectively snapping him out of it. Pulling on your thighs to get you to release your hold on him, and kissing his way up your body, Chris’ lips finally found your face, kissing away the salty tears that had run down your cheeks, only to finally find your mouth and kiss you deeply.

You let out the dreamiest sigh of relief when he kissed you, making him hum against your mouth, and as you hugged him close to you, tightly, bare chest against bare chest, his heart felt as if it was ready to burst at the seams.

“Fuck, love, you okay?” Chris wanted to check, to make sure his greediness didn’t get the best of him, and when you nodded enthusiastically, finding his lips and kissing him again, that minimal worry in his mind dissipated instantly.

“No business being that good with your mouth, fuck”, you mumbled against his lips, making him chuckle, just as you wrapped your legs around his torso, pulling him closer.

“Got a bit carried away… I can tone it down next time, if that’s what you want”, he teased you a bit with a grin on his lips, just as he held the base of his length and guided it to your entrance.

“Don’t you dare”, you replied almost immediately, pressing another loud kiss on his lips. “Want you just as you are. You always make me feel so good, baby…”

Chris hummed, content, keeping himself propped up on one elbow, kissing you as he dragged his tip up and down your folds, getting drenched in your slick. He was fully intending on not fucking you yet, on giving you time to catch your breath, he truly just wanted to feel your wetness against his cock, but when you noticed what he was doing, and urged him with a ‘if you don’t get inside of me right now I’ll cry for real, baby, please’, he simply couldn’t deny you.

Heaven, heaven, heaven, heaven, warm, warm, warm… “Fuck, it really hasn’t been that long, but I missed being inside you”, Chris couldn’t help but mumble against the skin of your neck once he bottomed out, relishing the way your walls just hugged him so perfectly, relishing how warm and snug it felt.

“Me too, baby”, you chuckled softly, threading your fingers through his hair, mindlessly playing with it. 

Keeping himself propped up enough, and once his other hand found yours, linking your fingers together, Chris finally started to move. He started slow, savouring every drag of his cock against your heat just as he kept kissing you, swallowing your quiet moans.

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he pressed slow, wet kisses on the sensitive skin of your neck, making you squirm in his hold, and the whines that came out of your mouth as you bared your neck for him had his pace picking up just the tiniest bit, had his instincts kicking in and his lips sucking purple splotches on your skin. Mark, mark, mark, mark…

It truly hadn’t been that long, but now that he was able to feel you like this again, Chris realised he had missed it more than he thought. How could he not, when you were so warm, so soft, and just so, so perfect for him in every way, and as he whispered these things in your ear, all while bringing his hands under you, one holding your shoulder, and the other holding one of your buttcheeks to keep you from sliding away from him with his movements, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that that was the absolute, irrevocable truth. 

“All yours, Chris”, you mumbled back to him, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, the reassurance alone sending sparks of pleasure up and down his spine, and when you added a “just like you’re all mine, too”, emphasised with a tug on his hair, he just couldn’t hold back the sounds that were coming out of his mouth, nor the rumbling that started to resonate from deep within him. Which, had he not been absolutely drunk on your presence, would’ve puzzled him, and maybe embarrass him a bit.

It wasn’t that common for alphas to rumble outside of their rut, and Chris was no exception to this. He could probably count with one hand the times he had rumbled after puberty. But as he continued to pleasure you, to indulge in your body, he realised his quiet, slow, almost involuntary rumble was just another sign. Another sign that he was all yours, you were all his, and nothing had ever made more sense to him in this life than those two facts.

Holding you tightly, he rolled to the side, bringing you with him so you could sit on him, making you gasp with the change in angle once he was buried within your walls again.

“C’mon, pretty… Didn’t you want to be on top? Ride me”, he mumbled against the skin of your neck, sinking his fingers on the swell of your hips. “Ride me like you mean it, love. Show me how much you wanted it”.

And you did. He attached his mouth to your chest, determined to leave as many love bites as he could like he did with your thighs, just as he could feel his body burn from the inside out while you bounced on his cock. Mine, mine, mine, mine…. 

Time slipped between his fingers, his mind and body lost completely on you, just like you got lost on him, exploring one another until you came once more, until you eventually got off his lap, took him between your lips and made him come in your mouth. When he borderline begged you to open up and show him, he was sure the sight of his cum pooled in your mouth would be ingrained in his brain forever, and when he asked you to swallow and you did, showing him your clean tongue right after, he couldn’t help but feel tingly all over, so incredibly enraptured by you, and your mouth, and your body, and your mind, and your absolutely everything.

After a quick clean up and more kisses and more caring words, Chris simply hugged you close under the covers, burying his face in the crook of your neck as your fingers buried in his curls and massaged his scalp softly. The sound of your heartbeat under his ear was lulling him to sleep, and when you held him even tighter against your body and he started to rumble again, he simply didn’t question it, too tired and sleepy and in love to care at all once he finally fell asleep that night.

Starting a romantic relationship with you meant that there were hardly any reservations in this flat anymore. Chris would walk around almost naked most of the time, wearing nothing but comfortable, loose fitting pyjama shorts, just as you’d do the same. Walking around topless or wearing only your underwear under one of his oversized tees, and honestly Chris was having the time of his life seeing so much of your body all the time he had to make a conscious effort to not have his hands on you all the time–he failed miserably every time, but by the heavens he was trying.

You both had decided to keep Chris’ bedroom as your shared room, whereas your room would become a study of sorts for both, since you kindly requested ‘no work in the bedroom, darling, please’, which was perfectly reasonable. 

The dynamic within the pack didn’t change at all, you were already doing all the things the partner of a pack’s alpha would typically do before you got together, so the only minor difference now was that you and Chris would often engage in very shameless public displays of affection, eliciting a groan or two from the younger members of the pack. They’d have to endure it, because Chris had no plans to stop any time soon. And he was very unapologetic about it.

Others, though, started airing his dirty laundry to you. ‘I wish you could’ve heard how fast his heart would beat when you got close to him before. How flustered he got…’ Seungmin just wouldn’t shut up about it, and even though you were his girlfriend now and all his prior struggles were something you were very aware of, Chris still threatened to smack him with a slipper if he kept talking to you about it–a completely empty threat, but it did slow down his jabs a bit.

By the two month mark Chris was one hundred percent sure he’d never felt this good in a relationship before, and if these couple of months were an omen of how the rest of his life would be, he was more than ready for it. 

“Baby, no offence, but no wonder you had to get a roommate”, you chuckled, mindlessly playing with his hair.

Chris laid on his back with his head between your legs, your tummy posing as the softest pillow he’d ever used. Your legs draped over his shoulders, caging his head between them while he played on his phone. It was a common position for Chris and you to ‘cuddle’ at this point, just laying together on the sofa as both of you took some time to unwind from the long day, scrolling on your phones, watching TV, or engaging in conversation.

“What’d you find?” Chris mindlessly caressed the skin of your outer thigh, squeezing the flesh here and there whenever he felt like it.

A few days ago, you had offered to help organise the finances of the pack, and today Chris was finally able to send you all the documents he could find related to everyone’s income and expenses. He’d been taking care of it on his own, but he found the task to be incredibly annoying and sometimes even confusing, so he’d be the first to admit he wasn’t doing as well as he could’ve with it… Especially with his own finances.

“Well, the kids seem to be taking care of their expenses well enough… They could probably cut down on some extras if they want to have some extra money…” Chris was trying his best to listen, he really was, but he started to zone out almost immediately, distracted by the warmth of your thighs around his head.

He squeezed your thigh, inhaling sharply, getting almost overwhelmed by your scent. “But you…” His ears perked up, focusing on what you were telling him. “Do you even know you are being billed for all these things? What do you even need a scooter insurance for?”

“I’m still paying for that insurance?!”

“Mhm, look”, you handed him your phone. Chris looked at the numbers on the screen, incredulous, and slightly annoyed with himself for forgetting about these things. “Do you even have a scooter?”

“Sold it ages ago, before I even got the car”, he scoffed, handing you your phone back. “Guess it just… Slipped my mind to cancel that thing”.

“There are more like these, y’know?” You chuckled, gently tugging on his hair. “You reckless wolf, what am I gonna do with you?”

Chris simply chuckled in response, turning his head a bit to place a kiss on your inner thigh as you continued to list things he had completely forgotten about. It took you both a while to go through everything, by the time you were done, he had pulled himself from between your legs, deciding to instead sit with his back against the backrest, spreading his legs as much as he wanted, with your legs laying over his.

There was some film playing on the TV. Chris tried to keep his eyes glued to it, but in all honesty, he wasn’t watching any of it, he didn’t even know which film it was.

The way you were laying on the sofa with your legs on his lap made it so the t-shirt you were wearing rode up almost completely, leaving your thighs on full display for Chris to touch and stare at. It was nothing unusual or particularly revealing, but he’d spent the past hour just squeezing and massaging your thighs, and the motions were getting him really worked up. Maybe embarrassingly so.

Even if he’d fucked you silly and seen you naked a thousand times already, he was somehow especially affected today. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t had sex in a few days–which was fine, contrary to what the rest teased Chris for, you two didn’t fuck every single day. Several times a week? Yes. But not every day. Mostly because either one of you would be too exhausted due to your jobs or your studies or whatever situation you both were going through that week.

Chris had caught himself thinking about your thighs a lot lately. Whenever you sat on his lap, or when you draped your legs over him when you slept, he just couldn’t help but look at them, to touch them. It had gotten to the point where, whenever your schedules got busy and you couldn’t get intimate for one reason or the other, he’d found himself wanking one off thinking maybe bit too much about your thighs. Touching them, kissing them, sucking on them, fucking them…

“Baby…” He squeezed your thigh lightly, keeping his eyes focused on the way the skin dipped under his hold. “If I tell you something… Something slightly embarrassing… Would you judge me?”

You turned away from your phone to look at him. “Never, babe. What’s bothering you?”

Chris swallowed the saliva he hadn’t even realised had pooled in his mouth, massaging your thighs a bit more firmly. “I… Really, really like your thighs…”

“I can tell”, you tucked your phone under the cushion you were using to prop yourself up, giving him your full attention. “That’s not embarrassing, though?”

“That’s not the embarrassing part…” Taking a deep breath, Chris licked his lips. He’d had a chub for a long while now, he’d been trying to ignore it, but the more he touched your bare skin, the more he just enjoyed the feeling of your soft flesh under his fingertips, he just couldn’t ignore it any longer. “I… Think about them often. Maybe too often. About how soft and squishy and big they are…”

“You do?” There was a bit of a teasing tone in your voice, but the way your heartbeat suddenly quickened was enough for Chris to know you weren’t teasing him because you found it particularly amusing, but just to get him even more worked up, to get him to react, and honestly he willingly fell for it, just like he did every single time.

“Mhm…” It wasn’t anything particularly new, not to him. The thighs… They’ve always been a part of a person’s body he’d tended to focus on, and the only time he tried to openly discuss it with someone in depth they looked at him like he was crazy, so he was embarrassed, and maybe a little apprehensive. But right now, he was just horny and in love and your thighs were just so soft, he just couldn’t contain the words from leaving his mouth. “Fuck, pretty, wanna fuck them so bad right now. Just… Really wanna come all over them…”

Chris had only ever fucked your thighs during his rut, he’d never brought that up into your day to day sexual activities. He was just convinced it wasn’t exactly common to have such cravings, considering he’d had partners tell him that before. Sure, you’d let him do it already when he was going through his rut, but there were a lot of pheromones and hormonal rushes involved back then, this was different. This was his completely coherent human self wanting to fuck a part of your body that wasn’t exactly common to want to fuck.

Licking your lips, and with a shaky intake of breath, you brought your hand to his, placing it there to bring his attention to your eyes. “Wanna do it now?”

There was no hint of judgement in your eyes, if anything Chris could see your pupils dilate, he could hear your heart beating faster in your chest, so he gave you an almost shy nod. “Do you, though?”

Your hold on his hand tightened a bit. “These are yours, Chris. I’m all yours”, your low tone, the desire coating your words, had him biting his lower lip and inhaling deeply, getting a whiff of your floral scent slightly tinted with lust, and it was honestly starting to cloud his mind a bit. “I don’t think it’s anything to be embarrassed about, baby. I actually think it’s quite hot… Makes me feel… Wanted. Is that how it is? Do you want me?”

“‘Course I do. Never not want you, pretty”, sneaking his hand between your thighs, Chris squeezed the tender flesh at the highest point, right where it met your core, making you almost squeal.

You stared back at him, in that way that almost made his alpha instincts kick in, in that way that made him want to make you submit to him in any way he could, but before Chris could say anything–or do anything–you spoke again. “Well… There’s massage oil in the coffee table…”

Of course there was massage oil in one of the drawers of the coffee table. You and Chris kept it there since before you got together, for times where the other felt their shoulders particularly stiff or for when any of the kids came over with the same problem. He’d lie if he said he never thought about… Using it in more inappropriate ways before, but it had been so long since you’d used it he had honestly forgotten about it.

With a chuckle, Chris shuffled a bit, careful not to let your legs fall out of his lap as he leaned forward to open the drawer and take out the bottle. Settling back on the sofa, as comfortable as he could, he instructed you, “scoot your legs back a bit, love. Need to take my shorts off”.

So you did, and once he found himself bare, he guided you towards him just as he slouched further into the sofa, bringing your legs back to his lap. Taking the bottle of oil, Chris took his time lathering your inner thighs with it, lightly massaging your flesh as he went, relishing the way your breathing was starting to get a bit more laboured with each drag of his hands on your skin, until finally, he soaked his cock, giving himself a couple of languid pumps.

Once Chris was content with how soaked you both were, he gave you the bottle so you could place it on the floor, just as he guided your legs to close around his length, and the sigh of relief that left his lips was honestly almost pathetic to his ears–not like he could care much about it when the most delicious thighs he’d ever seen were practically suffocating his cock.

“So good, fuck…” It wasn’t a particularly easy angle to do this in, but he was too far gone to care, so Chris simply angled his body towards you enough for both of you to be comfortable. Slowly, he started to thrust, his eyes focused on the sight of his tip popping out from between your legs, almost rubbing your core with each motion, feeling himself leak and almost drool as tiny sparks of pleasure started to travel down his spine. 

There was a voice at the back of his head telling him that he wasn’t taking care of your pleasure, that he was being too selfish by rutting himself between your thighs like this, but before he could even feel bad about it, Chris heard you whimper, and when his eyes snapped from the sight of his cock between your legs to your face, he couldn’t help but swallow. Your face was flushed, your lower lip trapped between your teeth, and your brows furrowed as you looked back at him.

“Is this how you wanted me, darling?” When the words left your mouth, almost breathless, Chris swallowed again, slowly nodding. Somehow, you looked like you were enjoying it as much as he did, and that realisation had him growing impossibly hard.

“Just like this, pretty… Seriously, these thighs of yours… They’re gonna be the death of me. So full and soft… So delicious…” Sliding one of his hands under your shirt, he found one of your breasts, kneading it and squeezing it for a bit only to finally pinch your nipple between his fingers in tandem with his cock pumping itself between your legs, relishing the soft moan that left your mouth when he did.

“Babe, I want you to… To enjoy yourself”, there was a pout on your lips, but Chris could feel your thighs twitch every time he rolled your nipple between his fingers, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh, I am”, letting his head fall onto the backrest, Chris just looked at your face, at the way it scrunched up in pleasure and the way your eyelids fluttered shut with every movement of his, just as one of his hands kept working you up and the other held onto your thigh to keep you in place while he fucked himself between them. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby… Most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen…”

Chris had this habit of rambling and running his mouth when he was horny or when he was feeling vulnerable. He’d told you this before, so he was sure you weren’t surprised by the things that came out of his mouth when you had sex by now, but everything he said was something he truly believed, it wasn’t all just horny talk. His last statement was no exception. You were, truly, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, and he’d believed that since the very first day he saw you.

You just whimpered in response, clenching your thighs harder, making him groan with the motion. Pulling your tee further up your torso, you brought your hand to your other breast, kneading it and playing with your nipple as Chris kept stimulating the other, as he kept fucking your thighs, and honestly he didn’t know where to look–to your gorgeous, blissed out face, to your hand and his working your chest, or to where his cock popped out from between your legs… It was all so much, and so, so good, and he truly was almost drooling with the intensity of it all.

It went on like this for a while, until Chris felt his orgasm grow closer. He hazily reached a compromise with himself, to let himself come first, something he didn’t do often. He usually preferred to have you reach your climax and fuck your brains out while you were all sensitive and drenched and squirming, but he needed this, and boy if he was ready to make it up to you after.

With a few more thrusts, giving you a quick warning, and a garnish of your name coupled with a colourful assortment of swear words, Chris finally came. His cum quickly pooled on the valley created by your thighs and your core, soaking your underwear, a bit even landed on your lower belly, and truly, you were always beautiful, every day, in every way, but especially so when you were covered in his cum.

“Shit, look at that, huh…” Chris felt lightheaded, but that didn’t stop him from reaching out to your lower belly, spreading his cum around with two of his fingers, only to finally bring them to your mouth, and, just like you always did, your lips wrapped around his digits, licking them clean with a satisfied moan. “Like eating my cum, pretty baby? Looks like you do, you’re sucking so eagerly, hm?”

You nodded, finally opening your eyes and letting his fingers pop out of your mouth. “Love it. How could I not? When you always have so much for me?”

Chris couldn’t help but chuckle, ignoring the heat he felt spread on his face. “All for you, love… All of it. All of me”.

You chuckled, regarding him with a smile. “How’re we gonna get out of this one without staining the sofa?”

“Take off that t-shirt, let’s use that”.

After wiping you off with his tee, Chris pulled you into his lap, bringing you close to him with one hand caressing your thigh and the other cradling the back of your head, just as you settled your legs at either side of him and your hands on his chest. You kissed like this for a bit, until your lips wandered off, pressing a trail of kisses from his mouth to his neck.

When you pulled back from his neck, you looked at him with such adoring eyes Chris thought he was going to melt right then and there. “You really like my thighs, huh?” You looked down, to where he was tightly holding onto the supple flesh of your thigh, and Chris really couldn’t help the bashful smile that came to his face when you called him out on it.

“Just fucked them and came all over them, baby. Can’t hide it, I’m fucking obsessed with them”.

You just chuckled, pressing your bare chest as much as you could against his to hug him close, just as you placed a brief kiss to his lips. “I meant it earlier, babe. You can fuck them whenever you want. I like it when you do. It’s really hot”.

“Oh, pretty, love… I fucking will. Shit, how couldn’t I…” Inhaling deeply, Chris kissed you, maybe a bit too hard, a bit too eager, but he still revelled in your soft moans as he did.

Linking his arms under your ass to keep you secure in place, he stood up from the sofa, earning a surprised squeal from your lips that got lost in his mouth. He simply laid down on the sofa with you on top of him, giving you a tight squeeze on one of your buttcheeks. 

“Now, pretty baby…” He spoke between kisses, just as his hands roamed your body, squishing and kneading your soft flesh all over. “I need you to sit on my face. Want to make you feel good”.

You simply giggled in response, giving him one quick, loud kiss. “Someone’s hungry today”.

“For you? Always”, Chris chuckled. “Then, if you can still walk after, we can go stargazing tonight”, he added with a smile and a playful smack on your ass.

Chris was determined to show you just how hungry for you he was time and time again if necessary. How could he not be hungry for you? He’d realised that, for him, you embodied the very essentials of his pack. You embodied those things he so desperately wanted to have in his pack since he had decided to start one. Care, love, support, acceptance… 

Whether it be his and his friends’ lycanthropy or his kinks or his odd spending habits, you seemed to accept it all as part of him. He shouldn’t be surprised, really. He shouldn’t doubt it. After all, you were made for him, all for him, perfect just for him, and he was ready to enjoy it, to enjoy you and your company for as long as you’d let him.

Author’s Note x2: while i was writing this, i took some time to re-read It’s Cold Out again after a long time and holy shit. i hadn’t fully realised how much my writing has changed since then. to the point where to me it doesn’t feel like ICO was written by me anymore. it’s crazy lol. i’m happy i’ve gotten to expand on this AU, and i’m even happier that i get to share it with you all. if you’re reading this, thank you, you’re awesome

Tagging: @raspbinniecreme @staaa96 @oiminho @dundullresident @honey-lemon-goose @straylightdream @carefully325 @lavenderxkies @starshine-moon @biribarabiribbaem @meowmeowhoon @100layersofdaddyissues @dearalice @alexis-reads-fics @xcookiemonsteer @knowleeknow @chanlovesme @liminaldaydream @sstarryreads @svngiem @notastraykid @princelingperfect

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© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :) feel free to leave your comments in the caption/tags when you reblog, or by sending me an ask !

Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments: It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

[christopherau-young]

"All is Fair in Love and Lock-Up."

They say all is fair in love and war, but how about when you're locked up? Gino Salonga is looking at 12-years behind bars, which he seems to be taking well all things considered, his on/off girlfriend Dana on the other hand has had a harder time adjusting to the news. Recently, Salonga asked me to type up a letter for him, expressing that he misses her and that he hopes they speak soon. It's been over a week and she still has not responded. When asked why he thinks she hasn't, Gino tells me that it's probably out of respect for her new boyfriend. After sitting down to talk with him, it's hard not to sympathize with Gino who seems earnest and calm about his current situation and his interactions with Dana. "I live a different kind of lifestyle," he tells me, "sooner or later, this was bound to happen." Ironically, this sentiment is shared by Dana who is well aware of Gino's choice that led to him getting locked up. While most people who get locked up would probably relish the chance to have someone like Dana in their life, Gino says he doesn't mind if she sees other people. When asked why he seems so nonchalant about all this, he smiles and tells me that he just wants to see her happy.

The plot thickens as I inquired as to how they met, with Gino taking us back two and a half years ago, to where they first met over Tinder. After talking online for three weeks, the conversation moved over to Snapchat where they would frequently face time each other. Eventually they met at a bar, Gino says she called it a date despite his claims that it wasn't. To her delight, it wasn't long before he asked her out on a real date. The pair went out to dinner then to a night club, where Gino introduced her to the fast lifestyle he led. They dated for the next two and a half years, before an incident occurred which led to the couple breaking up. As he describes it, Gino showed up drunk one day to visit her at work. While talking with one of her co-workers, Dana overheard him joking about how he was using her for sex which led to her dumping him. In the time they were separated, Dana began seeing other people. One day they started talking again, Gino says this led to the guy that she was seeing at the time becoming jealous, which led to them breaking up. After two and a months, Gino and Dana officially started "talking," again, he says she was the one who reached out to him about getting back together. Despite several attempts, with Dana reaching out to him on more than occasion to hang out in person, Gino says he was too caught up in selling drugs and making money at that time. Despite not taking it seriously, Gino tells me that he was indeed interested, and was just waiting for the right time.

One day he showed up to her work, hoping to speak with her in person but was greeted by her Uncle instead and the two struck up a friendly conversation. The next day, he was supposed to go back to visit her but opted not to, after receiving a dream in which he was about to get raided. He ended up standing her up, whilst he hid out at another girl's house. The very next day, police, FBI, U.S. Marshalls, and Homeland Security all raided his home in search of drugs. Fortunately for him, Gino was not there at that time and upon hearing the news, he immediately left that girl's home and went on the run.

What transpires next is mind boggling to say the least…after hearing the news that his house had been raided, Gino left, to go buy weed from his cousin. Upon arriving at their home he was arrested, thanks in part to the FBI pinging his phone. He spent the next two months in county jail, while he was there he reached out to a friend who looked Dana up on Facebook and messaged her to let her know what had happened. Per his own words, Gino says he told her he "thought something like this would happen." Luckily for him, she was responsive, with Dana asking him "when can I see you again?" They saw each other in person, with her coming to visit him twice a month at the county jail. Things changed between them after Gino received his plea deal, a 12-year sentence in Federal Prison. While his reaction was more or less indifferent, Dana's response to the news was purely emotional, no doubt due in large part to her feelings for him. Shaken by the news of his 10+ years sentence, she broke down in tears whilst talking to him over the phone. Gino says he knew things weren't gonna be the same once he heard from Dana that she "could wait for him for five years, not 10." Afterwards they started talking to each other less, even though she stayed by his side telling him they would always be friends. During his time in lock-up, she would go on dates with other people, Gino says she would call him and let him know what she was doing, and that she wished she was with him instead.

Despite all this happening, Gino tells me he harbors no ill will toward her, saying that she deserves to be happy regardless of his feelings for her. In recent times, the communication between them has come to a standstill, following a conversation in which Gino "told her off," in which he showed no emotion. He says he pushed her away during this discussion and that she's been silent ever since. This led to him asking me to type up a letter for him, in which he was checking on her to see how she's doing and that he's sorry for the last time they talked. While she still hasn't responded, Gino remains confident that things will work out. "She's in a relationship," he says and that, "if it makes her happy, then I'm happy." It's a testament to his uncompromising positivity that he's able to smile about all of these things, i.e. his 12 year long prison sentence and his dilemmas with his on/off again girlfriend. When asked to describe Dana in a nutshell, Gino says she's an independent woman with personality, who's not afraid to admit her true feelings and speak her mind. He says that he isn't shaken by his long sentence, telling me that he's taking it in stride and with a smile.

[imfoive]

Crystal Bird - Chapter 6

Crown Prince! Chan x Princess (fem.) Genre: Royal au! Angst, Romance, Historical, hidden identity, slow-burn Warnings: mentions of blood, peeping-chan, cursing, drinking/smoking, somewhat proofread WC: 7.3k A/N: Turning point! Also this series will go on a mini-break, I want to write a few chapters in bulk and then start posting again. Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The Crown Prince is saved by the Princess of a rival kingdom, and he swears his second life to his savior. A forbidden friendship no one knew of, grows deeper with every secret meeting. As the two are kept apart, memories of their sunset playdates by the serene river, begin blossoming into something beautiful. Cheeks blushed, stomach butterflies fluttered at the thought of each other. Years of yearning and imagining had only made them crave a sweeter reunion. And finally meeting at a Royal banquet, he could only stare at the now grown Princess, taken by her beauty, while she only watches as he gives his heart to the wrong princess.

Missed a chapter? - Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

CHAPTER 6 ───────────────────

“The second princess is hurt.”

“She stood in front of Prince Ian’s arrow.”

The whispers had followed her as Y/N made her way down the corridors.

She almost burst into her bedchamber in her rush. Somehow managing to get Sienna and the attention of every maid and attendant that they crossed paths with, off of her. She insisted that she was alright. 

It was simply a scratch, nothing life-threatening.

Her convincing words and determined demeanor were enough for Sienna to sigh and concede, finally allowing her to escape her sister’s watchful eye. Anna had hurried her back to her quarters, her guard ensuring a swift return while the young maid dashed off to fetch supplies to tend to the wound.

Truth be told, it hurt. 

The pain was so sharp that Y/N gripped her dress tightly to steady herself. Yet, she stubbornly refused to show any sign of distress.

Not to Ian, his belittling attitude would only further grate on her nerves.

Not to Sienna, whose concern only drew more attention.

Not to Prince Christopher.

Chan’s cold gaze was the most cutting of all, his look of disdain making her feel like a stubborn fool.

   “You stubborn fool.” Y/N muttered to herself as she slowly pushed aside her sleeve tenderly to inspect her wound in the mirror.

It was far from a mere scratch. The cut on her shoulder was bleeding freely, the flesh around it red and swollen. She winced at the sight, her face contorting into a frown.

A sudden knock startled her, but hearing Anna’s voice from the other side brought a sigh of relief.

Once again, there was a fuss about her wound, but this time it was just between Anna and her. The young maid’s face was a mixture of sadness, anger, and concern as she cleaned away at the spot. And this time, Y/N no longer had the energy to pretend the pain didn’t bother her.

Anna had managed to gather some medicine in her short search, to soothe the injury temporarily. 

Y/N had to attend the Royal dinner that evening, regardless of her condition. Anna suggested they skip it again, but the princess was resolute. She knew that missing the dinner after this afternoon’s incident would be disastrous, already rumors were being whispered amongst the servants.

Stupid Ian. He was probably off indulging in wine and smoke, while she was left wrapping her arm in tight bandages, careful to keep her discomfort hidden.

And on top of it all, Y/N had left behind her novel. She had really been enjoying it too.

Back in the garden where the Nightshade Prince still seemed to linger, had just watched the two princesses hurry off. 

Of course he didn’t believe for a moment that Princess Y/N was fine. As much as she claimed. She was not fine, her hurt expression betrayed the truth.

Chris knew the sting of an arrow graze well. Even a minor cut from cleaning it’s metal tip would hurt and sting for days. This was a deep cut. One that came from a distance and at full force.

A princess like her must be in excruciating pain.

But, what frustrated Chris the most was her stubbornness. The entire scene was absurd, but the boldness with which Y/N had claimed she was alright was what truly irked him.

Lying to him with such ease.

God, did she irk him.

As he glanced around the garden, at the gazebo where he had seen Y/N lounge around earlier before everything had happened, his brows narrowed as his eyes stilled on the out of place object.

Han stared at Chris in confusion, wondering what caught his Prince’s attention, enough for him to stride towards.

The novel.

The one she was engrossed in whenever he caught sight of her out here.

Chris glanced down at it, left on the chair where Y/N had been seated. 

If afternoon tea had gone the way it was meant to, maybe he would have wondered where she had managed to conceal it. Perhaps he would’ve enjoyed the sight of her flustered expression unable to refute or retort his comments.

Surely Ian’s arrival wouldn’t have allowed her to return back to her chambers. She hid it right under her.

Unknowingly, a subtle grin tugged at his lips as he picked up the book, its title already giving him ideas to tease her. 

Then her scowl flashed in front of him. 

They weren’t that close, certainly not after whatever had just transpired at this disastrous showcase or terrible archery skills.

Still, Chris found himself carrying the book under his arm as he turned to his young attendant. The one who was almost Ian’s target.

   “You should thank the second princess for her bravery in stepping up and getting nicked.” Chris advised, turning to leave with Han trailing behind him.

   “That was such a nerve wracking situation.” The warrior guard exclaimed, following behind his Prince who was silent, the novel still in his grip.

Han was still puzzled at everything that had happened. From the tension between the Princes to the injury of Princess Y/N, he truly didn’t know what he should question.

   “That second princess is certainly bold.” He added, eyeing the book in Chris’ grip, its cover decorative, clearly not about politics or foreign affairs.

   “Too bold.” Chris muttered, frustration evident in his tone, a bitter taste in his mouth.

Han shook his head, wondering why every encounter with the second princess seemed to sour Chris’ mood. 

The second princess was a peculiar one, too. If she didn’t treat himself and the Nightshade delegation with respect, then he would have assumed she hated his kind and his people. But perhaps she was just an exceptional actress, hiding her disdain behind polite smiles, a notion Han found doubtful.

His gaze flicked to Chris. But now it just seemed like the second princess simply didn’t get along with his prince. ──────────────────────── The royal dinner that evening was far more intimate than the grand affair Prince Christopher had attended on his first night in the Elysium Kingdom. This time, it was just the royal family and their close extensions. All guards had been ordered to remain outside the dinner hall.

Thus, Chris found himself missing the familiar presence of Han trailing behind him. 

Instead though, his attention was drawn to the discomforted expressions Y/N struggled to mask with strained smiles. Ones she thought she hid well behind polite smiles and curt gestures.

Determined to be more assertive, Chris had taken the advice Y/N had given him the night of the banquet and endeavored to make his presence felt. He had caught the cautious yet curious glances from the Elysium King. 

Despite this, his focus kept returning to Y/N. Over and over again, he grew increasingly annoyed.

Chris found himself mentally reprimanding himself. Reminding his wandering eyes that the only woman he should be stealing glimpses of was his princess.

Sienna, her radiant smile and an unwavering glimmer in her eyes as she acknowledged him were the only things that should have been distracting him.

The Nightshade Prince suddenly decided he did not care what expressions the second princess would make.

He didn’t care if she was hurt. It was none of his concern. She had chosen this for herself, her subtle pained expressions were her own responsibility.

Yes. Avoid her, he told himself.

Yet, his jaw tightened as he watched her stagger, only to be caught by Prince Hyunjin, who immediately let go once she was grounded, and bowed apologetically for his impoliteness.

There was a clench in his stomach, one he couldn’t quite understand.

Despite Chris’ efforts to ignore Y/N’s evident pain, it was impossible not to notice her struggle. 

As the dinner finally drew to a close and guests began to disperse, Y/N managed to somehow send her guard away, claiming she wanted to ensure the night ended perfectly. Although she couldn’t even recall exactly what she had said, the throbbing sensation on her shoulder making her feel overwhelmed.

Once he was gone, she leaned against the wall, exhaling sharply and bracing herself for the journey back to the West Wing and back into her chambers.

She was finally alone.

She thought she was alone, until her vision hazed for a second, and she staggered in her steps. The Sylancrest Prince’s grip on her upper arm steadied her, his eyes filled with both surprise and concern.

His guard, Seungmin, rushed forward, looking between the flustered prince and the equally stunned Y/N.

   “Forgive me, Princess. I couldn’t help myself.” Hyunjin said, bowing apologetically, his stance suddenly rigid.

   “Are you…alright?” His question was tinged with the same concern she’d seen when he gripped her.

Y/N quickly masked her fear of being caught, composing herself and dipping her head in response. 

   “Thank you, Prince Hyunjin. I must have just misstepped.” Another lie that slipped out easily.

Hyunjin took a moment to ensure she was alright before glancing at Seungmin then searching around for the familiar face of her guard. 

   “You shouldn’t be wandering alone, Princess Y/N. Is your guard not around to escort you back?” His gaze then shifted to Prince Christopher and Han, who were approaching.

Y/N stiffened. Here was the man she longed to see. 

Yet here he was, the last man she wanted to see in such a condition. 

She was going to eat her words from this afternoon if she didn’t find an excuse to depart from here soon, the pain of her wound already making her tremble.

   “Is everything quite alright?” Han asked, his eyes darting among the familiar faces with concern.

   “The princess needs to be escorted back to her chambers.” Prince Hyunjin nodded, glancing between the Princess and Chris.

His concern seemed to focus more on her safe return than the strained expression on her face. An expression that seemed to be apparent only to Chris, whose gaze remained sharply fixed on her. Suddenly he found himself opening his mouth, speaking before he could even truly understand what he was saying.

   “Does the princess mind if an uncivilized Nightshade Warrior escorts her back?” Prince Christopher’s words were laced with a taunting edge. 

A tone that makes the Sylvancrest men share a glance.

Of course, Y/N couldn’t refuse now. Not that she wanted to either, anything that would allow her to leave their watchful gazes. So she forced a thin smile and curtsied. 

   “I would be grateful.” She conceded. 

Her easy acceptance unsettled Chris. He had expected her to argue, to insist she was fine and needed no assistance. He expected the stubborn Princess from this afternoon, happily standing in front of an arrow. Yet, all he could think about was how her willingness to accept help, only suggested she was in more pain than she let on.

Chris’ expression hardened.

   “My guard will ensure you return safely Princess.” He stated curtly.

Han fell into step behind Y/N, glancing back once at Chris and Hyunjin before they disappeared from view.

While his personal guard was on an unexpected escort mission, the Nightshade Crown Prince found himself under the scrutiny of the Sylvancrest men. 

It was a risky position.

A Crown Prince standing alone on foreign grounds, observed by representatives of another nation without the protection of his own guard. Yet, the reputation of the Nightshade and his own Warrior Prince title gave Chris a measure of confidence. 

After all, what threat could a pretty boy and his lone guard pose?

Still, he kept his guard up. He turned to observe the Sylvancrest men, noting Hyunjin’s lingering gaze on the path the second princess had taken, a detail the sharp-eyes warrior easily caught. He cleared his throat, gaze flickering towards Seungmin who took a step behind his prince.

   “Do you believe we’re being watched?” Chris’ question took Hyunjin by surprise. 

The Sylvancrest Prince instinctively glanced around, his eyes scanning for any unseen observers who might be keeping an eye on them, an idea Chris wouldn’t put past the Elysium court. Even though Chris himself didn’t sense a specific presence lurking in the shadows, one can never be too cautious.

   “I would not be surprised if we were. We are just visitors who are neither friends nor foe.” Hyunjin stated, The three men fell into a steady pace, with Seungmin trailing a few steps behind.

   “Nightshade has never been a friend to this kingdom, and I doubt it ever will be. We might as well be considered foes. Surely the wary gazes and guarded stance of the royal family haven’t escaped your notice, Prince Hyunjin.” Chris remarked, his tone even and matter-of-fact.

Hyunjin did not respond to confirm, yet his silence was confirmation in itself.

   “The Elysium King is untrustworthy…” Chris continued, his eyes tracking Hyunjin’s reaction, gauging whether it was a shared observation.

   “This whole celebration seems like a front. Any competent person would come to a similar conclusion.” His tone remained casual, as if discussing something trivial rather than making potentially inflammatory comments about a foreign kingdom on its own soil.

Hyunjin blinked in surprise, his gaze shifting to Seungmin before returning to Chris. A surprised look that reminded the warrior prince of Y/N. From the night of the royal banquet, back in the garden. 

Chris’ friendly demeanor faded, replaced by a more serious expression.

   “You are a Prince. A representative of Sylvancrest. You should not be wary of speaking your mind on Elysium’s soil. Because you are not beneath them.” Chris stated, his words curt, yet full of sense.

Truth be told, Chris found himself slightly irritated by the Sylvancrest Prince’s overly polite demeanor towards the Elysium royals, especially given their dismissive behavior towards him. He recalled the tea time where Ian barely acknowledged Hyunjin’s presence.

Perhaps it was in Hyunjin’s nature.

Perhaps his rank as the fourth prince hadn’t hardened him like it would if he were to be the heir apparent.

Despite this, Chris noticed that his words had affected Hyunjin, the way he looked at him wasn’t unfriendly.

Meanwhile, Han was uncertain about the purpose behind his Prince’s decision to send him as a shadow to Princess Y/N.

Perhaps Chris sought deeper insight into her. Or perhaps he was driven by a sudden curiosity, a suspicion sparked by the afternoon’s events.

The Nightshade guard studied the second princess, who carried herself gracefully with every step.

   “I truly hope you are enjoying your stay here, Sir Han.” Her words cut through his observing gaze, making him blink.

   “Y-yes. I’ve learnt a lot in the past few days about the Elysium Kingdom.” He was polite.

She truly did not need to make small talk with him. Here, even now, she clearly took her duty with importance.

There was nothing outwardly suspicious about her. Aside from the slight sharp intake of breath betraying her pain, she appeared poised and competent.

Han’s gaze softened as he watched her from his position behind. He suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for her. 

For the things he’s overheard, overseen. 

She was rumored to be a princess, guarded and sheltered. 

Yet she wasn’t a weak princess, and neither was she guarded or sheltered. She was simply…forgotten, it seemed.

But Princess Y/N was a competent princess. Perhaps even more so than his Prince’s princess, he had to admit.

An observation that Y/N was never able to make herself.

After returning to his guest chambers, the Nightshade Prince found himself deep in contemplation.

Chris didn’t realize how deeply today’s events would affect him, and it frustrated him.

He had witnessed injuries before. He had seen blood, even watched warriors get pierced by arrows, slashed by swords during training sessions, hunting trips, in the White Mountains. Yet, Y/N’s pained expression, which she tried so hard to conceal amid the dinner’s bustle, kept flashing before his eyes, gnawing at his thoughts.

He shouldn’t be this worried about some foreign princess. 

A scowling princess who clearly had a distaste for him. 

A stubborn princess who chose to put herself in danger.

A rival princess who was nothing like the woman he’d given his heart to.

The woman who he had given his heart to…

Suddenly the memory of Y/N sitting in the garden, reclining beneath the gazebo, absentmindedly toying with her earring while absorbed in her novel, resurfaced in his mind.

Prince Christopher inhaled deeply.

   “Get yourself together Chan.” He muttered, fingers gripping at the crystal bird tightly, shutting his eyes to recall Sienna and her graceful smile.

For the first time in quite a while, he pained to meet his princess, the woman he loved. For the first time he had to remind himself to picture her image. To rid him from the thoughts of another, whose pain seemed to plague his mind.

He had resolved that night that the Second Princess would no longer be a concern for him.

However, even his own thoughts seemed to betray him.

Chris had always been adept at sneaking past guards and gates. But with his grueling training and experience, his secret ventures were bolder than simply infiltrating the Queen’s palace grounds.

Only hours later, the foreign prince was committing a crime that would have dire consequences if he were to get caught. Suddenly finding himself wandering in the cool of the night.

He was sure Minho had spotted him on his exit out. He was sure the Midnight Captain would find Han, his guard would be waiting for him upon his return with that frustrated expression that made Chris feel guilty. Still, he continued his self-appointed mission.

The Nightshade Prince scanned the darkness around him, ensuring he remained unseen, though confident there was no one nearby to catch him anyway.

He moved with practiced stealth, scaling the tree outside the balcony with ease. The soldiers patrolling the West Wing Palace were distant, making it a straightforward task for the warrior prince. His movements up the branches were swift and silent, finding secure footholds until he reached a vantage point near the balcony’s stone railing.

From there, he could see into her room.

The bedchamber of the second Princess.

The curtains were pulled back, which allowed dim moonlight to filter through, casting a soft glow inside.

His brows relaxed as he caught sight of her.

His eyes focused on Y/N’s silhouette standing before a large mirror, a faint grimace on her face. It seemed he had arrived at the right moment.

Although somewhere in his mind he knew that nothing about this was right.

Princess Y/N delicately adjusted the fabric of her nightdress. There was a messy heap of bandages splayed on the dresser, a scissor ready to trim to the amount she needed. Chris continues to watch with a look of wonder on his face. 

It was fascinating almost, to see a sight of a woman so exposed for the first time in his life. Yet he was painfully aware of how disgusting this was. How perverse his presence here seemed, even if his intentions were not so.

It was wrong of him to watch a maiden in the privacy of her chambers, dressed in nothing but her nightwear. 

It was wrong to watch a princess from outside her balcony. 

Yet, an inexplicable draw kept him rooted in place, captivated by the sight before him.

The Second Princess seemed to have that constant effect on him.

She hissed in pain as she inspected her injury, her brows furrowing in frustration. The sound of her low voice pierced the quiet of the night, out into the night, snapping Chris back to reality. Reminding him that he was here with a purpose.

He focused on the still-bloody wound on her shoulder, his concern growing palpable.

Without hesitation, he leaped from the tree branch onto the balcony railing, his strong hands effortlessly pulling himself up onto the flat surface.

The sudden movement caught her attention. Her eyes widened in shock as she glimpsed at his figure in the reflection of the mirror. For a moment, their gazes locked in mutual surprise.

Despite the intrusion, Y/N didn’t scream. Instead, she swiftly spun around on her heels, her hands frozen around the sleeve of her nightdress, ready to confront her unexpected visitor.

   “Y-your highness!” She exclaimed in a shocked whisper, instinctively trying to cover herself, which inadvertently caused herself more pain as she grazed the injured spot, followed by soft, painful hisses.

Chris took swift steps forward, entering her quarters through the open balcony. His hand extended to offer assistance, but froze midway. Realizing.

Their eyes met in the dimly lit room, both acutely aware of the impropriety of the situation. The potential consequences, if her chambermaid, or one of her mother’s attendants or even her guard were to walk in unexpectedly.

Yet, in that moment, Chris couldn’t tear his gaze away from the wound on her shoulder. Formalities and protocol faded into insignificance.

Chris could not convince himself to take a step back.

   “Let me help you, at least listen to me once.” He emphasized before she could boldly reject like she had in the afternoon.

   “No. It isn’t right.” She whispered. “You shouldn’t be here. What if someone catches you, or-or what if my mai—“

   “No one will find out.” He cut her off, paranoia still strong in her expression.

   “I’m a warrior. I can hear footsteps from miles away, did you forget?” He cocked his head with a somewhat smug smile. 

It seemed to be enough to sort of calm her, though she was doubtful about the “miles away” part.

Slowly, Y/N lowered her hands from her injured shoulder, her arms falling to her sides as she nodded hesitantly. Chris pressed his lips together in determination and took a hesitant step closer. Then another one, until he was close enough to graze his hand against the fabric of her nightgown. She stiffened, yet allowed him to continue.

Chris’ fingers delicately grasped the sleeve of her nightdress and gently pushed it down, ensuring not to hurt her, exposing the injured skin underneath. She shivered involuntarily as his cold fingers made contact with her warm flesh.

His eyes shoot to study her delicate expression before settling back on the cut. The intimacy of their position was palpable, a situation that could spark scandal if they were discovered. Yet all Christ saw was an injured bunny, shivering under his touch.

His calloused fingers grazed soft, and surprisingly gentle, brows knitting at the sight of her raw wound.

Though it was just a graze from the metal tip of the sharp arrowhead, it didn’t mean it wasn’t painful. He sighed, bringing the satchel that hung lowly around his torso forward, and rummaging through it. Her eyes stared in wonder, the Prince had come prepared.

   “We have to clean it before applying anything on it.” Chris muttered quietly, almost to himself, as he focused on the task at hand.

She watched him with a mixture of amusement and awe, a faint blush coloring her cheeks at the anticipation of his fingers touching her skin again, warm and gentle. Y/N trusted Chris. More than she let on.

Perhaps even with her life.

His jaw tightened with concentration as he applied antiseptic to a piece of gauze, before bringing it towards her injury.

   “It’ll sting a bit.” He warned, his eyes flickering from the inujury to her observant gaze.

   “I’ll manage.” She replied briskly, but of course her resolve faltered with a sharp intake of breath as the antiseptic made contact with her wound.

Chris’ expression softened briefly, a flicker of empathy crossing his features. He had tried to spare her this discomfort, he had attempted to prevent her from even standing against Ian, but she had stubbornly refused.

Chris wrestled with conflicting emotions as he tended to her wound. He couldn’t shake the sense of anger simmering within him.

How could the Crown Prince, responsible for the safety of his people, jeopardize them for what seemed like amusement? 

How can the princess be so reckless, allowing herself to get hurt in such a stupid way?

These were just some of the thoughts that plagued his mind ever since the incident. Ever since he could only see her and only her, afterwards. Chris was sure if he didn’t sneak in here he would have dreamt of her and her damn injury.

And now, here he was, in the private chambers of a princess, risking her reputation and his own standing.

Chris resented how she stirred this protective instinct in him. Her seemingly carefree attitude towards the dangers surrounding her, only fueled his frustration.

He took a deep breath, trying to quell his anger. Or the thoughts that question what he was even doing here in the first place.

Perhaps it was his sense of duty and compassion, the healer within him, that compelled him to act despite the risks.

A Nightshade warrior. A Nightshade healer. A leader, a protector.

Yes, that was it.

With a frown, he pulled back the handkerchief that had cleaned off most of the dried blood from her wound. Still gentle actions amidst the frustration that bubbled in him.

Princess Y/N glanced at it briefly before he disposed of the soiled cloth and continued searching through his bag.

   “This salve is used by soldiers in the training field.” He stated, pulling out a small container.

Uncapping it revealed a pale green cream that Chris doesn’t hesitate to swipe onto his fingers.

   “It has a numbing agent that will help you at least get a good night’s rest, and if you apply it throughout the day, will quicken the recovery process.” His explanations helped the quiet girl, still in his loose grasp. 

But that was not what the princess was wondering.

   “Why did you suddenly show up at this ungodly hour to apply medicine on my wound?” Her gaze was peering, his eyes flickered between the cream and her before he took a closer step.

An action that makes her straighten, reminding herself of their close proximity, something he was seemingly unbothered by.

   “An injury from an arrow can kill even a warrior of Nightshade, and you’re just a princess.” He stated matter-of-factly. 

It was true, but it wasn’t the entire truth behind his forbidden presence here.

Chris could never admit that her injury had weighed on his mind all evening, that her pained expression had haunted him whenever he attempted to close his eyes to finally sleep. He would of dreamt of her, he was sure of it.

Y/N remained quiet, absorbing his care and concern despite the…unconventional circumstances.

Gently smoothing the salve onto her wound, Chris ensured it covered every side, his touch careful. Y/N watched him silently, feeling the soothing coolness of the salve easing the burning pain she had endured, the pads of his fingers grazing ever so gently.

Chris glanced up at her face, noticing the pallor of her lips and the signs of cold sweat on her brow. It was clear she was suffering, possibly even beginning to develop a fever from bearing the pain. Despite her discomfort, she hadn’t uttered a single complaint.

Anger flared within Chris anew, as if every time he discovered a new side of her discomfort, the angrier he got.

His frustration was not just at the situation but also at her stubborn resilience. She bore the pain quietly, refusing to acknowledge her own distress.

It irked him that she seemed to endure such hardships without protest, as if she didn’t value her own well-being enough to seek help sooner.

He wanted to scold her. To nag at her for her risky decisions. Yet he was in no place to do any of that.

Everything she did irritated him, sticking to his thoughts like a parasite.

But as he continued to apply the salve, his touch slight and caring, he also felt a twinge of admiration for that same stubborn resilience. She may have been a princess, sheltered from many hardships, but she possessed a bravery that deserved respect. Something even some Nightshade Warriors lacked prior to any formal training.

His conflicting emotions simmered beneath the surface as he finished treating her wound, silently hoping the salve would bring her some relief.

   “How did you get up here?” Y/N’s voice carried more volume now, her initial anxiety giving way to curiosity.

Chris blinked, momentarily taken aback by her direct question that brought him out his thoughts. He shifted his focus from her questioning eyes, to the open balcony behind him, where he had entered her chambers.

   “I climbed.” He replied curtly, as he placed the jar of salve on the table, which had now become a makeshift first aid station.

Chris picked up the string of bandages, preparing to tend to her wound further. While Y/N raised a skeptical eyebrow, a gesture she would have emphasized with crossed arms she wasn’t injured.

   “That doesn’t help dispel rumors of the Bahng being beasts in the night.” The curious princess muttered to herself, though her words were clear enough for him to hear.

Chris paused, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the seriousness of the situation.

He suddenly recalled her novel, its cheesy title.

Her comment only made him think about the teasing thoughts that crossed his mind once he picked up the book that currently sat on the dresser in his room. Her comment was innocent, yet he raised a brow.

A prince sneaking into a princess’s chambers was indeed scandalous.

   “I know I bragged about coming from a romantic clan, but I assure you, I’m not truly a beast.” He remarked lightly, his gaze meeting hers with tease and amusement.

Of course she understood, the look in his eyes a clear giveaway. There was a flush of heat rising to Y/N’s cheeks as she realized the implication of Chris’ words.

   “T-That’s not what I mean—” She started to clarify, but Chris broke into a small chuckle at her innocent reaction. 

A sound that made the second princess stare at him, momentarily stunned by the unexpected sight of his smile. She had forgotten how his smile looked up close after all these years. 

Had he always had that prominent of dimples? 

And was his smile always this captivating? 

In recent days, she had seen him smile, but none of those smiles had been directed at her.

A pang of longing squeezed her chest, and she quickly averted her gaze from his face.

Chris sensed the shift in her mood but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he gently began wrapping the bandage around her shoulder, his touch tender and comforting.

   “Our clan learned from the beasts of the night, so the rumors aren’t entirely untrue. Besides who wouldn’t want to be compared to a ferocious creature, just the thought of it is enough to scare away enemies.” He stated matter-of-factly. 

She nodded, amazed at the way he thinks. And even more so amazed that she was no longer feeling the stinging pain on her shoulder. That salve was absolute magic.

   “It doesn’t hurt!” She remarked in surprise, her wide fascinated eyes fixed on him as if seeking confirmation.

Chris couldn’t help but be reminded of his earlier comparison, seeing her now as a small rabbit in the presence of a supposed beast. He managed to contain another chuckle.

   “I told you, it has a numbing agent. That means it’s working.” He explained with a gentle smile, his eyes meeting hers warmly.

As Chris finally finished wrapping Y/N’s shoulder and trimmed off the excess bandage, he stepped back, his hands finally dropping to his sides. He inspected his work, reassured that the bandaging would suffice to ease his concerns about her injury, thoughts that might otherwise have kept him awake all night.

A brief silence settled between them. A silence that stretched as they stood their almost awkward all of a sudden. Y/N swiftly pulled her sleeve back up, a gesture that underscored the impropriety of their encounter, all over again. Chris cleared his throat, breaking the silence, while Y/N turned slightly, suddenly self-conscious of her attire.

   “Remember, apply the salve throughout the day.” Chris reminded her softly, pressing his lips into a thin smile as he gestured towards the ointment on the table.

As Chris turned to head back towards the balcony, Y/N’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

   “Wait—are you going to jump? From here?!” Her shock was evident, as if she had momentarily forgotten their conversation about the Nightshade Warriors mimicking beastly tactics.

   “Well, I can’t exactly go out the front door now, can I? Should I get caught and confess about our nightly rendezvous?” Chris teased, his tone playful and light-hearted.

Taken aback by his cheeky response, Y/N quickly composed herself, standing straight and bowing her head slightly.

   “Please, Your Highness, please jump off my balcony. Y/N replied with mock formality, adding a dramatic curtsy for emphasis.

This time, Chris couldn’t contain the smile that spread across his lips. He let his head drop slightly to hide it, clearing his throat before responding in mock seriousness.

   “That was the plan. Now, goodnight, Princess. I hope you feel better in the morning.” He nodded, turning around and preparing to jump down from the balcony. Which he does, his descent from the stone rails almost graceful.

Y/N gasped as Chris jumped from her balcony, despite knowing his intention. She hurried to the edge and peered down anxiously, watching him land easily on a large branch of the tree and then onto the lush grass below. He glanced up at her, a smirk dancing on his lips, before disappearing into the darkness of the night.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Y/N scanned her surroundings, ensuring there was indeed no one else nearby.

A torrent of emotions flooded her mind. From the moment he had snuck into her room to now, she had witnessed different facets of this warrior prince who had always been aloof and curt towards her and the rest of the royals and nobles, except her sister. It saddened her to think that Sienna received his charming smiles and intense gazes.

Why couldn’t she just tell him how she felt? About who she truly was.

Why couldn’t he recognize her? Connect the dots as easily as he caught onto other things.

Bitterness welled up inside her.

Y/N turned back to her room, her heart heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. The night had brought them closer in unexpected ways, yet the divide between them seemed insurmountable.

With a heavy heart, the second princess closed the balcony doors behind her. The night air was cool as Chris climbed through the window back into his room at Ruby Hall. Like he had concluded, his personal guard paced his quarters.

Ever dutiful and ever exasperated, stilled with surprise once he caught sight of the sheepish expression on Chris’ face, his own expression a mix of concern and annoyance.

   “My Prince, please. You must stop doing this to me.” Han pleaded quietly, his voice a mixture of fatigue and annoyance.

Chris, still smirking from his successful escapade, undid the ties of his dark blouse and settled on the edge of his bed. 

   “I was quick.” He chuckled smugly, clearly pleased with himself.

Han groaned, even in foreign palaces this prince of his has no fear of wandering off. The guard almost lost it when Minho had shown up in the dark of his room to notify him of Prince Christopher’s… nightly excursion.

Yet he leaned back, eyeing the bag of supplies Chris had dropped on the dresser. 

   “You can return now, you’ve done a good job.” Chris remarked pointedly.

   “I always do a good job.” Han retorted, but his gaze was back on the satchel.

   “Don’t tell me you snuck out to meet Princess Sienna and exchange desserts at this hour of the night!” Han exclaimed, his exhaustion making his tone more exasperated than accusatory.

These days he recalled the two royals had grown closer, exchanging foods and desserts, kindling a friendship perhaps over tea, much like they did as children. Though it would still be inappropriate to choose now of all times for small talk and tea.

However, while the guard pondered his thoughts, the Nightshade Prince stiffened at the remark. Chris’ smile faltered, and his eyes widened slightly as a sudden realization took hold.

Sienna.

His Princess.

The first princess, who he had forgotten all about.

A sudden dryness gripped his throat, and had Han not called his name to bring him out of his thoughts, he probably would have figured out why that was.

   “Did you really go to see her?” Han pressed once more.

Chris shook his head, as if shaking away the anxious thoughts.

   “That would be very inappropriate. I’m a Prince, I would never sneak around to meet a princess in the middle of the night.” He lied smoothly because that’s exactly what he did.

   “Besides, Princess Sienna doesn’t remember me yet. It would probably be more than a little weird, possibly even terrifying, if I showed up out of the blue with cookies.”

Han sighed deeply, his worry evident despite his master’s casual demeanor. 

   “Just, next time, please let me know before prancing off.” He requested once again, resigned to the fact that Chris would continue with his antics regardless. 

As Han exited the room, he stood for a moment outside the closed doors, his mind racing. The faint scent of medicine still lingered in the air, from his prince, sparking his curiosity further. He knew Chris well enough to sense when something was amiss. 

Han could only think of one person who was injured enough for his prince to offer medicine.

His prince did sneak off to see a Princess.

Though she was not the one who he claimed to love. ──────────────────────── The Sylvancrest Prince found himself unexpectedly seated in the King’s personal study, facing the Elysium King himself.

The situation was nerve-wracking. Seungmin had been left behind at the study’s threshold, while Hyunjin had been led through the grand corridors by a stern King’s guardsman. Now, he sat in the suffocating silence that had settled between them.

Finally, the King cleared his throat and gestured to the liquor set between them, which a servant had placed upon his arrival. 

   “It’s quite late, Your Majesty.” Hyunjin declined politely, feeling an internal urge to stay sober for whatever purpose had brought him here.

   “Was there something particular you needed from me?” He asked.

A smile spread across the Elysium King’s face, almost eerie in its intent, hinting at something concealed beneath the surface. The King reached for his glass, took a sip, and then leaned back in his chair.

   “The Sylvancrest Kingdom has indeed become a thriving nation, prospering these days. But how long do you think this prosperity will last?” He began, causing Prince Hyunjin to raise an eyebrow, puzzled by the direction of the conversation.

   “Sylvancrest boasts about grand seaports and vital trade routes. As a leader who values trade and business myself, I must tell you that maritime trade has its limitations.” The Elysium King continued.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, trying to manage his growing frustration. Suddenly he recalled Prince Christopher’s words from earlier that evening.

   “Forgive my directness, but what exactly are you trying to convey?” His gaze was sharp now, a stark contrast to the polite demeanor he had maintained since his arrival.

   “I propose forming an alliance. One that would be mutually beneficial for both Elysium and Sylvancrest. Perhaps allow you to access trade routes on land.” The King finally declared.

The room fell into a tense silence as the foreign prince processed the sudden proposal.

   “It does not make sense.” Hyunjin finally said, breaking the silence. 

   “I am merely the fourth prince of my nation, not even in line for the throne. I’m not the one you should be offering such…alliances to.”

The Elysium King chuckled, a chilling sound that sent a shiver down Hyunjin’s spine. 

Sinister and calculating.

   “Elysium can help you become the only one truly worthy of claiming your throne.” ──────────────────────── Chris knew it was a dream.

There was no way he had returned to her balcony. Yet everything felt so vivid. The night chill raised goosebumps on his arms, even beneath the black attire that concealed him in the dark, the curtains leading into her room flowed freely with the gust of winds.

He knew it was a dream.

Princess Y/N smiled at him.

Far from the scowl he was used to seeing. Her eyes meet his through the reflection of the mirror she stood before, dressed in nothing but a nightgown.

The one Chris remembered feeling silky to touch.

His gaze flickered to the shoulder he had bandaged, only to find it completely unblemished, bare shoulders glowing for his eyes to take in.

And no sign of injury at all.

It was a dream.

Still, the Nightshade Prince took a step forward, then another, and one more. Until he was just inches from her.

His chest heaved, throat dry. Eyes trailing over details of her he missed in reality. Details his subconscious had seemed to etch into memory.

   “Prince Christopher.” Her voice was a whisper, delicate and soft in the quiet of her dimly lit chambers. 

The furniture seemed to glimmer faintly under the candlelight and moonlight, more details that Chris had likely conjured up in his mind for the sake of this vivid, unsettling dream.

Still, the foreign prince reached out daringly, his fingers grazing the warmth of her jaw. The skin was searingly hot against his touch. 

The Nightshade Prince had only read the title of that novel she had left behind, yet here he was, dreaming of committing such forbidding acts that were straight out of a love story. Even if it was all in his mind.

He swallowed hard and leaned in, finally capturing her lips in a soft, passionate kiss. Their breaths mingling in the heated moment.

The press of her plush lips on his, had sent a jolt through his entire body.

A jolt so strong, he had pulled himself back to reality.

It was nothing but a dream.

Chris woke up panting, his eyes wide as he stared at the dark covers. The back of his hand flew to his lips, covering them as his eyes stared into nothingness.

It replayed again in his mind.

He screwed his eyes shut, trying to dispel such lewd thoughts that emerged.

Grasping the crystal bird in his clammy hand, he tried to calm the erratic pounding of his heart, attempting to rid himself of the lingering sensations of the imaginary kiss and the softness in Y/N’s voice as she whispered his name.

The warrior prince did end up dreaming about her. Though not in the way he had thought.

No way. 

How could he dream of such a thing?

   “Fuck. Get yourself together, Chan.” He muttered for the second time, rubbing his face with his hands in frustration.

Then he realized the thoughts did not subside.

Instead his heart beat quickened at an erratic beat that made him anxious.

A part of his mind attempted to push him into another slumber. Into another dream where he could return back to the Princess, her chambers.

To her lips.

No way.

   “How-how could I…fall for her? How could I fall for the wrong princess?”

Suddenly his eyes widened with a new fear, one the warrior prince had never felt before.

This night was a special one. 

As the second princess gazed at her reflection in self-pity in her chambers, the Nightshade Prince grappled with his own unsettling thoughts. Both remained unaware of the Elysium King’s sinister schemes. Behind closed doors, the King was orchestrating something harrowing with the seemingly naive Sylvancrest Prince.

Indeed, the night was special. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! - @stayceebs97, @palindrome969, @tsunderelino, @solandiszale, @fixation-dump, @ellelabelle, @gaslasyttune, @qwonyoung23, @minh0scat, @candyquokka, @sellomaybe

[violetsiren90]

Nothing But You | Bang Chan/Reader

Pairing: wolf hybrid!Bang Chan x f!human!Reader

Genre: hybrid AU; non-idol AU, strangers to lovers; love in adversity; cozy one-shot; fluff and angst

Word Count: 1434

Summary: The world's not ready for your love, but that doesn't matter. None of it matters - nothing but him.

Part 2: Evergreen (though both can be read as stand-alone works)

Content Warnings: I'd give this a PG-13 for content, but ALL of my work is 18+ (minors, dni); cuddling; co-sleeping; bad weather (but safe indoors); shirtless Chris (Chan is called Christopher); descriptions of hybrid physical features (including some minimal body hair); depictions of prejudice towards, discrimination, and marginalization of hybrids; a character gets lost and is momentarily frightened; allusions to sexual intimacy; implied domestic violence (by an authority figure, not Chris); running away; mention of reproduction (pups); for some reason even though it is explicitly stated I feel the need to mention that Reader and Chris are both adults throughout

Author's Note: I'll tell you what I didn't have planned for this Sunday afternoon and that was a Bang Chan hybrid AU one-shot. But the image of cuddling up with Chan in the middle of a snowstorm took me hostage and now here we are. I've never written a hybrid AU before, so this was very fun! If you read this, I hope this Christopher brings you the comfort you deserve today. 💕

P.S In case no one has told you today, you're so loved and so, so worthy of love. 🧜💜

The icy wind howls, whipping swirling flurries of snow past the windows of the little cabin. You stir, not opening your eyes, heavy with slumber as your other senses remind you of the homey trappings of your shelter. A fire crackles and pops, its warmth licking over your nose and cheeks. A soft, heavy blanket fashioned of rabbit pelts lays over your body, rustling quietly as you nuzzle into the man beneath you.

    His chest rises and falls with the even breath of a deep sleep. Your cheek rests against his bare skin and the silky patch of thick, dark hair between his firm pectorals. It isn't really hair - not like yours. It's fur. Soft, dark tufts of it decorate his body everywhere hair would grow on a man; a patch on his chest, under his arms, at the dip of his Adonis belt. It smells like him. Like musk and pine and lavender. Manly and primal, floral and gentle. Christopher.

    Hybrids were still treated like dirt in so many ways. They didn't require licenses to live without owners anymore, but still, they were pushed to the margins of the community by the intolerance of common practice. You yourself had been taught to fear them. Monsters, your grandfather had told you, who would turn on their own young in a moment of morbid instinct. Even so, you always found more pity in your heart than terror.

    And then, one day, you met him.

You had been loading groceries into the bed of your grandparents' jalopy at the general store and dropped a bag of oats as you struggled to hoist it onto the tailgate. You hadn't even noticed he was beside you when he easily hefted the bag and the remaining two boxes of eggs onto the vehicle without a word. He shot you a little smile, but before you could thank him your eyes were arrested by a pair of sharp brown ears rising from his curly hair. He pulled on a cap and turned to go before you could collect your wits enough to speak.

    You had thought of nothing save his warm brown eyes and sweet smiling lips in the weeks that followed, taking any chance you could to steal away to the general store in hopes of seeing him again.

But your paths never crossed. Not until the following summer.

You had packed in to the camping grounds by the lake with a few other girls from your graduating class for a weekend getaway from the menfolk - not that you had any - and you'd joined them rather reluctantly and at the persistence of your grandmother, who insisted a little socialization would do you good.

    That first afternoon you quickly grew tired of the chatter. If the weekend was meant to be a reprieve from the men, you grumbled to yourself, then why were they the constant and sole topic of conversation? You gathered up your sketching supplies and walked down the trail a ways, finding that the more distance you put between yourself and the shrieks of laughter and gossip behind you, the better you felt. Soon, you couldn't hear them at all. You settled onto a rock at the edge of a small glen and took your pencil in hand.

    Suddenly, some hours later, it dawned on you that your eyes were straining somewhat on the page, and you looked about, startled at the waning light reflecting the late hour. Gathering your things, you hurried back to down the path, only to realize with a sickness in your gut that you were well and truly lost, and that the daylight was nearly spent.

    He had found you then, sniffling rather pathetically beside a tree. You'd been alarmed by the sudden sound of his voice, having not heard his furtive approaching steps, but when you raised your frightened eyes to his face the fear had quickly given way to wonder. You'd given up hope of seeing him again, and now here he was, once more in your hour of need.

It was too dark now to find the trail back to the campsite, so you helped divide the load of bracken he had tucked under his arm between you as he led the way back to his cabin, not far into the thick. As you walked you noticed his tail, gray and brown and full behind him. Had he hidden it, that day at the store, you wondered? Did he always when he was around people like you? You remembered how surprised you had been at the site of his pretty ears upon your first meeting and you felt ashamed. You tried to find every possible way to assure him, as you walked and talked, that he didn't frighten you. You hoped he understood.

    Before long, you arrived at a little clearing with a log cabin at its heart. Smoke rose invitingly from the chimney, and you found it was as small and homey and warm within as it seemed from the cold darkness of the wood. The stranger gave you bread and stew and hot milk, and you ate with him and told him of yourself and he shared with you in return.

He was a wolf hybrid. The sole survivor of his pack, he had traveled hundreds of miles to settle into the mountains of your home. He made a living hunting, trapping, and gathering the wares of the wild to sell in town, as did a handful of other hybrids living in the mountains - a group of traders known collectively as The Strays. He told you that his name was Christopher, but that most simply called him The Wolf. When you repeated his given name softly and asked if you could call him by it he smiled that smile again, but broader and brighter and with his eyes pressed into little moons and crow's feet in their corners. His canines glinted in the light of the fire and one beautiful dimple pressed into his left cheek.

    You were in love.

    You asked him, a little shyly before parting the following day, if you could be friends. He smiled sadly and brushed rough fingers over your cheek before telling you that you were already his friend, but that you should keep yourself safe by staying away. People were suspicious of hybrids, and if he were seen with a human woman, it could be dangerous for you both.

     At the edge of the campsite, when he turned to go, you grabbed his arm. You told him that every Saturday morning you helped wait tables at Maple's Diner, and that if he came, breakfast would be on the house. You wanted to thank him, you insisted. In truth, you just wanted to give him a chance to find you, should he wish to. Oh, you desperately hoped that he wished to.

    And he did. He showed up a few weeks later, ears tucked under a hat and shoulders looking broad in a worn flannel shirt. You gave him coffee and bacon and a pile of pancakes and sat with him when your shift was through. It became a ritual, Saturday mornings at the diner. And then you started meeting for lunch. Then dinner. Then for long walks and trips to the movies. Then he started to take you out for drives in his truck - for picnics in the mountains, to watch the stars from the bed, to never leave the cab or each other's arms as the windows fogged with your labored breaths and mingled heat.

    One night your grandparents were waiting up when you returned. Your grandfather was in a rage, your grandmother was all worry and woes. It was a sin, what you were doing, they said. In the eyes of what god, you demanded in return? Your grandmother clung to your arm, begging you to come to your senses - it was dangerous, and worse, you would be ruined for life. You told her that none of that meant anything to you. Only him, he was all that mattered. Only Christopher. To hell with everyone and everything else in that goddamned town that treated him with suspicion and shame - that could never begin to see how perfectly beautiful he was.

Your grandfather forbade you to see him.

You told him you were grown and he couldn't stop you.

He raised his hand, and your grandmother screamed.

    When Christopher pulled up in his pickup you were in front of Maple's Diner. He gasped as he crouched to cradle you in his arms and gently brush his fingers over your broken lip and the green bruise on your cheek. He gathered you up, gathered your little bags, and took you home.

Home to the woods.

To the little warm cabin.

To his arms and his heart.

    It's the third winter since you left it all behind - everything that tried to keep you from him.

Things are so different now, so simple, slow, steady and intimate in the life you share. You've started talking about pups. Maybe someday. Maybe soon. 

    You look up at his lovely, peaceful face, washed golden in the firelight, and smile, settling back down against his chest. As the wind howls your eyes slip shut, and you sleep again in the strong, gentle arms of a wolf.

-Fin-

[staylovesmiley]

Connected~ Chapter 1

ᯓᡣ𐭩Pairing; Bangchan x Fem!Reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩Summary; Lumi had been a trainee at JYPE for years. Having entered the company a couple years after Chris the two became good friends, maybe even more. As she watched her best friend finally achieved his dream, the distance between them grew. With her debut date finally set in stone, will the two be able to rekindle their flame or will the connection between them falter?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 Notes; This is an ABO!AU. in this world when someone reaches puberty they will present with one of three sub genders; alpha, beta, or omega. Scent glands are located near the pressure points on the neck and small hormonal patches called scent blockers can be placed over them to reduce or rid an individual of their scent for a period of time depending on the strength of the hormones in the patch.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩Warnings; abo!au, female!reader, poly!pack dynamics, angst, mild violence, smut, old friends to lovers, she/her pronouns used for reader, jealous Bangchan, Reader is an OC, Mentions of unhealthy dieting(forced by the company), Reader is three years younger than Chan (‘00 liners unite!!)

~October, 2015~

It was late, far too late for the two of them to be awake, and yet here they were.

The sound of rain was loud against the roof of the old building belonging to the company. Chris was sitting on the floor with his back pressed to the couch in the corner of the room, working diligently on his laptop with a pair of headphones sat atop his head.

Lumi stood in the middle of the room, chest heaving as she finished running through the routine for that month’s evaluation for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. Frustration coursed through her as she stripped off the loose tshirt she wore and threw it at the mirrored wall with a groan, her normally sweet rosy scent souring and smelling of fermented rose water.

The noise combined with the change of her scent caused the Aussie teen to pause his music program and slip the headphones off his head to rest around his neck. “Woah there- maybe put that back on before someone walks in and gets the wrong idea, yeah?” Lumi raised a hand to flip him off, while also walking to pick up the discarded shirt and slip it back on. “S’not like I was naked or anything I had a sports bra on-“ she grumbled, huffing as she leaned against the wall before slowly sliding down to sit against the cool hardwood floor.

Chris sat his laptop down beside him and fully took the headphones off to join her where she sat across the room from him. “Come on….what’s got you so worked up. You usually don’t stress about monthly evaluations like this. Especially dance- spill it.” Lumi sighed, hating how well the older teen could read her.

She ran her hands across her face, shaking her head hoping that it would clear her overthinking like an etchesketch. “It’s been so long, Christopher- what if they never plan to debut me? What if the second I misstep they use that as a reason to drop me all together?” She said, eyes stinging with tears as she glared defiantly at the floor in front of them.

Chris shook his head, letting out a soft chuckle. “Geez this must be seriously bothering you to call me Christopher-“ without a second thought he grabbed hold of the girl’s ankle and pulled her so she was sat in front of him, his warm vanilla scent wrapping around the young dancer. “Chris what the-“ her eyes were wide, his strong scent causing her mind to grow slightly fuzzy around the edges. She looked at him, her cheeks beginning to heat up at the way he handled her so effortlessly.

The older placed his hands on her shoulders, locking eyes and leaning in so that Lumi could practically feel his breath fanning over her face as he spoke, she fought the urge to nuzzle her face into his neck and inhale his scent more deeply. “You aren’t going anywhere. You’re gonna do fine, you’ll be placed in a group any day now I just know it. You are too talented not to.” His words seemed to go over her head, her heartbeat racing and her mind only able to process how close he was to her face like this. “PD-nim would be absolutely idiotic not to debut you. We’ve been over this so many times before, Lumi.”

Nodding slowly, his words began to sink in as the shock of the close proximity wore off and her nerves began to settle in once more. “You’re one to talk…you’re pretty much set to debut. You’ve got it all, Chris- you can sing, dance, rap, and you’re one of the best producers here. You always ace all of your evaluations, JYP thinks you’re special.” Just as Chris was about to deny her words, she sat up on her knees in front of him and became defensive. “I’ve heard him say it! Don’t even try with me, Christopher.” The boy winced and let out an awkward laugh. “Two Christophers in less than an hour- you wound me.” He teased, poking at her chest lightly though it caused her to sit back on her heels and stare at him blankly.

The older sighed, reaching out and pulling her into a warm embrace. “Chris I’m all sweaty from practice-“ she squealed, struggling to get away though it made him hold tighter and laugh maniacally. “As if that’s bothered either of us before? Let me looovveee you~” he sing-songed the last bit, rubbing her back in soothing circles while the sweet smell of roses returned and melted together with his sugary warm vanilla as she relaxed against his chest.

The two teenagers stayed like that for a while, just listening to each others breathe, taking in the mix of their scents that had come to smell like home to the two teens. Lumi seeming to be focused on committing the older’s heartbeat to memory before she eventually pulled away, looking at him with a bitter sweet expression. “Thank you for trying to cheer me up…I just- this uncertainty is killing me.” He nodded, pulling his knees to his chest. “Me too, Lumi….trust me you aren’t alone. I know everyone around here thinks so highly of me but-“ “that just makes the possible failure that much scarier.” She finished for him, taking one of his hands into hers and giving it a soft squeeze.

~April, 2017~

Making her way down the halls to the little studio where her best friend did most of his production work, Lumi felt like her heart was going to pound out of her chest.

Once face to face with the door separating herself from what she assumed would be the three young producers usually holed up in the small room, she felt as if she couldn’t breathe any longer. Quickly, before she could overthink it and run the other way, she raised her hand and knocked rapidly at the wood until her knuckles felt sore.

A groggy Han Jisung answered the door, looking her over while blinking the sleep from his vision. Once she was no longer a blur to his eyes, the teen smirked and leaned in the doorway. “Lumi! Did you come here to see me?” He said with a raise of a brow. The girl laughed softly and shook her head, the beta teen slightly lightening her mood with his usual antics and his sweet sugary coffee scent seemed to overpower the slightly wilted smell of her own rosy scent. “No, Hanji….I’m here to see Chris, but I don’t mind seeing you too.” She reached up to pat him on the cheek, causing the boy to fluster and his scent to spike and become sickeningly sweet almost. His earlier confidence seemed to falter as he stumbled to move aside and let the omegan dancer enter.

Lumi stepped into the small room and her eyes landed on the alpha in question. “Lumi! Come, come I have news!” The Aussie said excitedly and patted his lap for her to take a seat.

With the limited space in the studio, this was a normal occurrence whenever she would come to visit. Either she would end up crammed on the couch beside one of three or sat on their lap. Sure, Chris was her best friend, but over the years Lumi had become close with the other members of 3racha and so being close with them in that way didn’t feel awkward to any of them. Even with Jisung’s playful flirting, Lumi would either tease him or flirt in return while watching the other turn bright red and causing one or more of them to giggle at how quickly his demeanor would change and how shy he truly was. It was like they were their own little unofficial pack.

She made her way over and sat down on Chris’s lap carefully, turning to look at him with a nervous smile. His warm vanilla scent surrounded her and managed to calm her nerves slightly while he rested his chin on her shoulder and looked up with soft brown eyes. “I um- have some news too? Well- maybe…” The older beamed as he took her hands in his. “Do you wanna go first?” Seeing how excited he looked to share his news, Lumi shook her head. “No no, it can wait. Tell me yours first.”

When the words left his lips, she felt her heart sink like a rock to the pit of her stomach. “We are being put on a survival show- we could get to debut soon!” Lumi tried to school her expression, to not come off disappointed or unenthusiastic, hoping her scent would not betray her true feelings towards the news. “Oh my gosh- really? Thats- that is good news!” She looked between the three of them before throwing her arms around the oldest and held on tightly. “I told you that your time would come- you’re too special not to.”

Lumi pulled back slightly and that was when the other two in the room spoke up with protests of where their congratulatory hugs were. With a roll of her eyes, the dancer rose from Chris’ lap and first gave Changbin a hug, ruffling his hair and causing her fellow omega to shout with his disapproval of the movement though his scent told a different story as fresh berries and a warm sweet cream to fill the air around her. Then, Lumi pulled the youngest into her arms and gave an exaggeratedly loud kiss to his cheek which caused the tips of his ears to turn a dark shade of pink and the smell of freshly brewed coffee to fill the room and overpower the others scents slightly.

Before she could embarrass the younger anymore, Chris pulled her back to him. His arms came to wrap around her middle, holding her comfortably in his lap. “So what was your news?” Her eyes widened slightly, remembering what it was she had came there to talk to him about. “Oh- that? Just that I finally got that new dance down that I was trying to learn!”

He smiled, tilting his head to the side as a confused expression laced itself behind his eyes though he didn’t question her further despite his normal warm vanilla smelling a bit muddled with his doubt to her story swimming in his head. He would just have to trust that if it was something serious, the omega would tell him what it was eventually. “Okay? Well I’m glad you got it down, baby. I knew you could, you stress about dance too much for how easily it comes to you. Do you wanna hear what we’ve been working on lately?” She nodded, welcoming a distraction as the alpha turned the chair so that they were facing the sound board and moved a hand from her waist to press a couple different keys and soon music filled the small studio and thoughts of the not so distant future were pushed to the back of her mind.

It had been a week since the show began filming, Lumi had seen less and less of her best friend in the month leading up to the show as he assembled his group and worked on spending time getting to know them and work on preparing for everything to come.

She couldn’t help but feel slightly bitter as she watched who she considered her pack in her heart, distancing themselves from her whether it was unintentional or not she felt as if part of her soul had been ripped from her. The nail in the coffin was when she caught wind that they had officially became a pack just before the show wrapped. Lumi felt hopelessly stuck, and pushed aside by those closest to her. With no pack, and no debit date in sight, her mind was made up.

That brought her to where she was, sat in a conference room with fluorescent lights beaming down and causing a light nervous sweat to break out on the back of her neck. “So, Ms. y/l/n, are you sure about this?” Lumi nodded, taking a deep but shaky breath. “Yes, I’m sure. This- this is what I want.” The businessman in front of her gave a warm smile, watching as she signed the small stack of papers in front of her before extending a hand to her. The dancer shook the hand, a small smile on her lips in return as she looked up at him. “Welcome to KQ entertainment. We look forward to working with you.”

~July, 2024~

Lumi couldn’t believe this was finally happening.

She stood on stage, lights dark as they stayed in position while waiting for the music to start. They had already filmed the first half of their debut stage, which involved Mani and herself playing instruments rather than dancing.

While she was somewhat confident in the performance, the omega knew that this was her time to really shine. Being able to showcase her dancing abilities to the audience, to express how the music made her feel as she moved effortlessly to the beat.

Once the music began, it was like she was taken over by the sound. She could feel the air around her almost transform her as she danced, a mix of both poised and sharp movements that followed to the beat for the most part, though at some points switched to match the lyrics to add emphasis to their meaning.

The teachers at KQ had been right when they said that writing and producing their own music would help her choreograph better, and that she would feel more connected to the music. She was so grateful for everything they had done for her, though it wasn’t easy.

It felt like it could never last long enough, adrenaline pumping through her veins and causing the sweet smell of roses to flood the stage and mix with the rum spice and orchid of her fellow member. Once the song came to an end, and she found the camera pan in close to her face she tried to calm her breathing, giving the camera a wink before hold up half a heart to her cheek with one hand while the other waved cutely to the audience both in the room with them and watching from various different streaming services through the lens of the camera.

Everything moved so quickly afterwards. The two omegas were ushered off stage along with their backup dancers, staff handing them water bottles and patting their faces and necks gently with paper towels to absorb the sweat that had formed there during the performance. Stylists were quickly touching up any smudged makeup or hairs out of place.

Looking over at Mani, both girls burst into fits of giggles as the adrenaline was still rushing through them not allowing the excitement to fade. “I cannot believe we just did our first performance as a group- can you believe it?” Lumi said while bouncing on the balls of her feet, effectively annoying the poor stylist trying to reapply her lipgloss.

The older of the two shook her head at her overexcited behavior, though her smile gave away how fondly she regarded the dancer. “It still doesn’t feel real…like any moment we will wake up and be back at lessons still preparing for this.” Lumi nodded in agreement and sighed dreamily as the stylists finished up and started bringing them back to the green room to do some filming for their social medias before they had to go back out for an interview with the MC’s of the show.

As they were walking down the hall, chatting amongst each other about how unbelievable it was that they were officially idols and how they thought the first performance had gone.

Lumi was laughing at Mani’s over exaggerated recreation of her ending fairy, playfully teasing the pink haired omega, when she ended up making direct eye contact with someone she had not thought about running into in such a situation.

Bangchan was exiting the stray kids green room, leading the way to the stage with his members following behind when their eyes locked. It wasn’t possible, was it? All these years and he had been under the impression that his best friend, the one closest to him during his trainee days, had simply dropped off the face of the earth.

He liked to imagine that she had opened a dance studio somewhere and was teaching the thing she loved most, a life away from the stress they had both undergone as trainees.

Chan never would have guessed that they were an idol.

With the stress of the survival show, being the leader of a group and eventually a pack, and then everything that came after the show wrapped up and they were set to debut, it was unfortunately too late by the time he had found out his best friend had left the company.

They wouldn’t tell him why or how she had left, just that she was gone.

Over the years he had always kept an eye out, any new group to come out he would look to see if she would appear. After about the fifth year of waiting, watching, hoping…he had given up and that was when he had come to the conclusion that the omega must have left the trainee and idol life behind to pursue another dream.

But seeing her now, the smell of sweet summer roses wrapping around him and causing his mind to fog after not being in her presence for so long. She looked slightly different since the last time he had seen her.

Her hair was died a bright pink, and she seemed to have filled out since their teenage years. The omega was still a bit shorter than him but the curves of her body were more noticeable. It didn’t help that the outfit she had on seemed to accentuate them even more with the light blue corset overtop the flowy white fabric of the dress she wore that hit her at about mid thigh.

The alpha was stopped in his tracks at the sight of her, causing Jisung to run into his back where he had been following behind the older. “Hyung what are you-“ the beta started to whine at the hold up until he followed the oldest’s gaze to see the familiar face that had caused the alpha to freeze to his spot. “Lumi?”

At the sound of Jisung’s voice, she seemed to snap out of the trance she was in and a shy smile found it’s way to her face instead of the look she wore previously which was something like a deer caught in the headlights stare. “Hi Hanji-“ she waved lightly, feeling awkward seeing them after so many years of no contact.

Without hesitation the rapper was pulling her in for a tight embrace, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck causing one of their stylists to shout at him not to ruin his makeup before they went on stage. “I can’t believe you’re here! Where have you been? Where did you go?! I’ve missed you so much- and not just me Channie hyung and Changbin hyung too!” The omega couldn’t help but giggle as the beta rambled while squeezing her tightly as if she would disappear if he were to let go.

“Hanji breath, baby.” She laughed, shaking her head while carefully petting the back of his head as to not mess up his hair. “I’ve missed you too, it’s so nice to see you.” Lumi pulled away slightly to look into his soft brown eyes. “You’ve changed so much-“ the dancer said almost breathlessly. “We all did.” Came the heavy aussie accented voice. Warm vanilla flooded her senses and made her feel lightheaded as she turned to the alpha who the scent belonged to. “Chris….I-“

Lumi tried to find the words to say, after seven years of no contact, of longing to hear from him but telling herself he would be too busy to bother with her, telling herself he wouldn’t remember or care. Now he looked at her with eyes that held so much longing, confusion, disbelief, and what she could only describe as hurt. “Where did you go….” Was all he said and before she could answer the rest of the pack made their way out and into the hallway.

“Did I hear Jisung right, Lumi is here?” Came Changbin’s booming voice before he made it to where one Han Jisung was still clinging to her like a life line. “Hi Binnie-“ her voice came out so small, still feeling Chan’s gaze boring into her soul as if trying to find the answers to all of his questions himself. “Oh my gosh our baby!” He squealed before ripping her away from Han’s embrace and into one of his own.

“Holy shit Bin you are so-“ The omega blushed lightly as she was squished by his muscular arms. “You’ve been working out, Jesus Christ-“ Lumi said with a chuckle as she nuzzled into the older omega’s hold. “I missed you so much!”

She tried to ignore Chan’s stare for the time being, letting herself get enveloped by the sweet smell of fresh berries and whipped cream while giggling at Han Jisung’s pouty face over the older rapper’s shoulder.

After a while, not missing the whisperings of the other members about her presence, the managers began ushering them towards the stage. “Alright everyone we are gonna be late you are needed on stage now for your performance.” They called loudly causing Changbin to huff but ultimately let go and follow their orders.

Almost as if snapping back to reality, Chan became frantic as he called out loudly over the managers while being herded towards the stage. “Don’t go anywhere! Please! I’ll find you when we are done- please don’t leave again!” He said, the tone in his voice stinging your heart so sharp you felt as if the breath had been knocked out of you, though you nodded to him in confirmation. “I won’t-“ it came as a whisper but Chan heard it, a bright smile full of hope spreading across his face. “I’ll hold you to that.” Was the last thing he said before jogging off with the rest of his pack to the stage.

“Um, Lumi?” Came Mani’s voice from her side. “What was that all about? And how do you know Stray kids?” Her eyes widened, realizing that in trying to bury the hurt she had for leaving her friends and joining KQ she had neglected to tell anyone of her relationship to the three producers of the now wildly popular boy group. “Oh uh….about that?” She responded, rubbing the back of her neck anxiously.

author’s note; SURPRISE!! I decided to post this earlier than I said before teehee- originally this chapter was a bit longer but I decided to leave off with a mini cliffhanger and add it to the next chapter~ I really hope you all enjoy reading this story as much as I did writing it! And look forward to my partner Ceres story stating their oc Mani who happens to be in this fic as well~ they happen in this same universe so if you ever wanna see another side to things go check it out once they post it! (And their other works as well they are so talented and deserve more recognition-)

taglist; open (lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist for this fic)

[sunboki]

— ENDLESS WINTER. TEASER a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. estimated around 12k

AUG'S NOTES. me and my inner thoughts… as a fic 😭 i cannot believe this is my longest writing yet!!! hopefully you enjoy!

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[luveline]

Steve zombie au with reader getting hurt at the new camp (like always) and Eddie offering support as a friend but Steve gets all jealous while trying to take care of HIS girl

for you my love ♡ steve zombie au —steve is riddled with guilty jealousy as you and eddie become friends. fem!reader 2k

It's a brave new world.

For starters, there are enough guns at camp and able bodied gunmen for fires in the daytime. There are warm meals eaten under the sun, songs sung quietly but nonetheless sung around the fire. There are happy children. There are books to be read to them, and batteries to power flashlights for story time under the stars. 

Things aren't perfect, but after the tragedy of The College, things are good enough. Steve can bring himself to leave your side (though not for the first few days where he's bed bound, and not for a few more after that). 

He can't lie, he hates that you like Eddie so much. His jealousy is a raging monster of stiff spines and dry eye twitches, insecurity that you've met someone new and that you trust them so quickly. 

You were cagey at The College, scared of Steve's friends and petrified Steve was going to break up with you. He couldn't understand at the time how you would ever think such a thing, but now, with Eddie sitting by your knee and a piece of string between his fingers weaving a cat's cradle, your eyes alight with delight, Steve gets it. He totally gets it. 

"It's not hard," Eddie promises you, letting the string fall from his fingers and into your lap. 

"I don't have a complicated brain," you say. 

"It's not rocket science. Even Steve can do it." 

Steve picks an overcooked Lima bean up from his discarded dinner tray and aims to flick it between Eddie's eyes. You're gathered around the campfire in your cold weather coats, a procession of young (ish) adults knee to knee chatting away the worthless hours. When the Lima bean smacks Eddie in the cheek, Steve could pin it on any number of the people gathered. Christopher is a renowned professional when it comes to bothering people, and Jonathan has that older brother's penchant for being irksome, but Steve owns up to it. 

"That's a touchdown." 

Eddie gives him the finger as he instructs you, completely unbothered. "It's those two fingers– No– Yeah, you got it. And then push this finger under this, and this finger… Nice." 

In another life, there's a Steve who doesn't care. He hasn't had to vy for your attention before besides sharing your friendship with Robin, and he's pathetically sorry about it —you should have friends. Steve thinks unabashed that you're the best person they ever made. All you want (all you've ever wanted) is to be loved and to give love back. He's known that about you for a very long time. And in his eyes you deserve what you want. 

You deserve to have friends. He can share Robin, and you can have friends of your own, too. You can have everything. 

Steve can't get a handle on how it's making him feel, is the issue. He's envious as a teenager with their first crush. 

"You honestly just need to practise," Eddie assures you, laying back in the grass with his arms behind his head. 

"You'll have to show me again." 

You stay sitting and Eddie shows you the pattern again without sitting up. You aren't flirting with one another. Steve wonders if that would feel better, to be jealous of something substantial, but you're doing normal things. Eddie is treating you with exactly the kindness and friendship you deserve. Steve wishes he managed it himself when you first met, because you're his best love and his best friend. 

Robin not included. (Robin is always included. Steve would die for her.) 

Like she can sense his devotion, Robin puts a hand on his shoulder, pulling his weight gently to the left. "You'll burn a hole in his leather jacket." 

"I hope he catches on fire." 

"What are you so worried about? She had plenty of chances to leave you for somebody new. Jonathan's been nothing but sweet to her the entire time they've known one another and she barely notices." 

Steve grimaces. "Jonathan likes her too?" 

"He wants to be her friend, just like Eddie. I, on the other hand, want to marry her." 

"Funny." Steve yanks grass up from its roots, the blades soft and cold between his fingers. There's an ice patch growing on his ass and thighs from the cold as the temperature drops. "It's fucking cold." 

"You can move closer. I need to go and find Sarah for a bit. Don't burn your new kicks, Steve, they were a great trade." 

Robin swapped a useless handgun for them to the resident portable blacksmith. Steve wriggles his toes in them gratefully. 

Steve and the remaining group move closer to the fire slowly. When the sky is black and smooth as velvet dotted only by stars like pin holes, Will comes running with a miraculous bag of marshmallows, trailed by his ragtag group of friends; Dustin with his fraying hat, Lucas, and a teenaged boy named Peter. 

Steve couldn't believe Lucas was alive at first. Eddie told the story to him when he was recovering in the shitty portable medbay. You'd been sleeping in the plastic chair by Steve's bed, your face pressed to his chest, a puddle of drool soaking into his t-shirt. He'd stroked your forehead for hours. 

Eddie and a whole bunch of Hellfire members didn't quite manage the escape rendezvous orchestrated by Hopper at the start of the apocalypse. You and Steve must have just missed them when they set out in Eddie's van for safety. The story goes that Eddie's shit with directions, and while he managed to get to Michigan eventually, it was hard. They met up with a group of much older people who were able to take some of the weight off, eventually finding a group of military soldiers who'd been drafted to protect a politician's family. Their group kept growing and growing. While they never set up camp somewhere permanent, they've kept it together. If Eddie's group (or moving community) had managed to make it to The College, Steve thinks they might have survived the attack.  

But you're together now. Hawkinites reunited, Hopper alive and well and nursing new plans. 

"Hopper give those to you?" Christopher asks Will. 

"How's that fair?" Eddie asks. "Family favouritism." 

"I have to share them," Will says. 

"Oh, well. Never mind. Accusation renounced." 

The teens kidnap Eddie and run off to find sticks for marshmallow roasting. You turn to Steve with a smile that makes him feel worse rather than better, so subtly devoted. 

"How's your arm?" you ask, leaning into his shoulder. 

"Aches." 

"Can I have a look?" you ask. 

Steve offers his arm with no qualms. You fight to push back the sleeve of his coat and jacket. His wound is closed and healing nicely, but the infection must've been in his muscle or something because the ache won't go away. It feels as though he's done a hundred pull ups with one arm alone. 

You don't touch anywhere near the site. 

"I think it's looking better." You thumb over one of his little moles. "Pretty." 

"You're pretty." 

"You're prettier," you say, folding his sleeves down again with infinite care. He thinks you might be batting your lashes at him. That, or he's whipped to the point of delusion. "You feel okay, hm? You're mopey tonight. Do you want to go sleep?" 

Steve shakes his head vehemently. "And miss marshmallows? No way." 

You both notice that your question of mood went unanswered. Luckily for him, you dip down to rub your cheek against his sleeve. "Love you." 

He loves you too. He says it under his breath, pressing his cheek to your head for as long as you're willing to stay there. 

"Y/N-kins, Steven," Eddie says, returning with a handful of long branches covered in foliage. "I have a job for you." 

You pull leaves off of the branches. It should be an easy job with the three of you sitting criss cross applesauce yanking the twigs naked excitedly, but you pull with too much enthusiasm and stab the meat of your thumb. 

You hiss and look down. Your noise draws Eddie and Steve's attention in tandem, Eddie closest to the injured hand. 

"Oh, shit," Eddie says, pulling his sleeve over his hand. He presses it to your skin as a surprisingly fat rivulet of blood springs and drips down to your wrist. "Here, don't get it on your clean coat." 

Steve doesn't know why he does it. He isn't proud. But he thinks, That's my girl. Eddie's being friendly, and Steve knows that's all it is, but he can't stop himself from batting Eddie's hand away and moving in protectively. 

"Cop a feel somewhere else, Munson," he bites. 

"Steve!" you say, laughing. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, sitting back in his spot with a laugh of his own. "Ridiculous. I wouldn't cop a feel ever 'cos I respect women–" 

"Nice," you say. 

"And if I were trying to flirt with her, Harrington, I'd definitely do it better. But as you both know my heart is promised to someone very important. I'm busy keeping the memory of metal alive, I don't have time for stealing girlfriends. Not that you're not worth stealing, Y/N." 

Steve dabs your hand. You wink at Eddie playfully. "You keep her alive, Eddie. Are you gonna play some more rock songs for us tonight?" 

"Duh." 

"How do you manage to hurt yourself every single day?" Steve asks, distracted from the conversation by your cut. It can't be a quarter of an inch long but it's bleeding in a rush. 

"See how it got faster when you came to save me?" you ask Steve. His heart drops, but you continue, "My heart gets faster when you're close. My blood pressure rises." 

Steve tries not to show how pleased he feels at the compliment. You tap his elbow knowingly. 

Steve assesses your cut. It stops bleeding just as soon as he leaves it alone and the kids arrive with their marshmallows, putting an end to Steve's makeshift medbay. 

Someone puts a couple more logs on the fire to get it roaring now that night is creeping in. Steve insists on roasting a marshmallow for you. 

"I have one working hand left," you protest. 

"And knowing your luck, you'll burn it." 

"I'd never control you like that," Eddie says, deadpan.

Steve stabs Eddie with a stick that's lightly smouldering at the tip. You tell Steve off, but when he presents you with a roasted marshmallow for eating you give him the world's greatest thank you kiss. Another after you've eaten it, your lips sticky with sugar. 

"Do you want mine?" Steve asks. 

You wrap your arm around his waist for a lopsided hug. "No. Don't ask me again though, I might say yes." 

"Do you want mine? Seriously, honey–" 

"I'll have it," Eddie says with a shit-eating smile, eyes trained on the fire where he toasts his own marshmallow. 

You wave your hand at him. "No, you won't." You lift your chin to kiss his cheek. "It's yours. Don't let it burn, handsome." 

Alright, Steve might have jumped the gun on the whole jealousy thing.