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thaleleah · 7 months

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𝓗𝓾𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Academy!Reader

Warnings: Dub-Con, Seduction/Manipulation, Oral (female and male receiving), Handjob, Food Play (feeding each other/licking stuff off bodies, but its more of a seduction tactic), Finger Sucking, Ruined Orgasm, Slight Overstimulation, Slight Dacryphilia Kink, Reader is spoiled and delulu, Sub!Coriolanus

**Based off this irl porn post (takes you to Twitter/X).

Word Count: 10K

A/N: Literally just started the book today so Coriolanus is probs wayyyy out of character but . . . just go with it lol. I wanted him to be ✨subby✨

Summary: When you find out that the great Coriolanus Snow is not as financially well off as he makes himself out to be, you can't help but take advantage of his vulnerability.

Hunger is a weapon - every Capitol citizen knows this.

It’s the most useful piece of knowledge used when carving down an enemy. The people in the districts need to be taught fear, obedience for their devastating betrayal to the Capitol. If they thought they knew oppression before the First Rebellion . . . well, they just didn’t know how good they had it.

Things are back as they should be now. The Capitol stands at the top of the hierarchy, the districts fumbling below in their failure as they suffer their punishments and try to make amends in order to have the favor of those in charge.

Your family was lucky, surviving the war with minimal losses and maintaining your excessive wealth in the process. It’s a life of luxury for you - one of comfort and ease. You want for nothing, desire for nothing that you can’t have in a split second with a snap of your fingers or a hopeful, doe-eyed pout at your father.

Nothing, except one thing.

Him.

Coriolanus Snow.

He walks with such confidence, lean body moving gracefully and an air of arrogant smugness following him around as he vies for the Plinth Prize. He’s smart, very smart - top of the class at the Academy, and you can’t help but admit that you find his intelligence extremely attractive.

He’s beautiful, angelic blond curls always strategically fluffed, the perfect contrast to the Academy’s rouge uniforms. And sometimes, when he’s leaning down to scribble in his notebook during class, a few rogue curls will fall across his forehead and into those eyes - those eyes that sparkle despite his constant controlled and put together facade. You want those eyes on you. Want them to see you, follow you around as you walk the halls of the Academy, never leaving your visage as you sit prettily in class, back straight and legs crossed under your desk - your posture a solid reminder of your high stature within society.

You want them wet with tears, pupils blown wide as he stares up at you while you ride him, hard and fast as his mouth begs for mercy despite his pretty blue eyes begging for more.

You’re a prize, he’d be lucky to have you - and yet, whenever he looks your way, it’s with disdain.

You’re a fucking goddess, beauty unmatched. He should be falling at your feet just to get a second of your time. But no, instead he ignores you, never once looking your way other than when studiously listening to your response to a question asked during class before those blue eyes make their way back to the professor. They never linger, never once. And that realization makes your blood boil.

He’s smart, but you’re smart too - spite and bitterness reenergizing your academic drive. He wants the Plinth Prize and you want him. So you do the only thing that you can think of that will ensure his focus lands on you no matter what.

You go for the Plinth Prize too.

You’re on his ass in academics - every test and every project leading you closer and closer to over taking him for the win. His eyes can’t leave you now, always following you, narrowed and hateful as you smile smugly back at him. Sometimes you think you can see fear in them, like he can physically feel your sharp, manicured nails digging into the vulnerable balloon of his dreams and can hear the shallow hiss of escaping air through the punctures.

You hope he can feel your metaphorical breath on the back of his neck.

The mid semester review comes around and classes are canceled for the rest of the day as professors meet with their students to go over their academic standings. You walk into the building just minutes before your scheduled meeting time, bag slung over your shoulder and a dried fruit bar in your hand as you climb the stairs towards Professor Rosebloom’s office. Normally, you would be at least 15 minutes early, punctuality and proper time management drilled into you from a young age. However, Professor Rosebloom likes her schedules, the exact measurements of time, and plans out each class and meeting down to the minute. It’s useless to assume there’s any wiggle room for early arrivals or dismissals. It’s not beneficial - not when the door to her office won’t open again until the very moment it hits your scheduled appointment time. So you take your time climbing the stairs, taking a bite of your snack bar when you see him.

He’s leaning against one of the pillars in the middle of the hall, back pressed against the rounded edge as he bites into a cookie. He looks stressed, body rigid as he chews, the back of his hand coming up to wipe at his mouth after each bite. You smirk, eyes narrowed in glee as you stalk towards him like a predator sneaking up on her prey. His mind is elsewhere, completely unaware of you coming up next to him until his gaze falls to your shadow overtaking his own along the glossy floor.

He has only a second for his brain to register your presence before you speak, a smooth and sweet, “Coriolanus,” that nevertheless has him jumping in his spot against the pillar.

You watch as he fumbles the cookie in his hand, the half eaten treat falling to the ground, breaking into smaller pieces under the impact. His face is rather comical as he stares down at the ruined cookie, eyes wide and mouth agape, and you swear you see his hand twitch just the slightest bit as if he was going to pick it up off the dirty floor before he takes a deep breath and those piercing blue eyes cut to you.

“What?” He asks, voice sharp.

“Aw, sorry to make you drop your snack,” You say, feigning sympathy. “It looked yummy,”

His eyes fall shut for a moment, long eyelashes creating shadows along the top of his cheeks as he fights for composure. “It was,”

“You should have saved it for after your meeting,” You say, stepping closer to him, just far away enough to still be considered a proper amount of space, but close enough for him to have to tilt his head downwards to maintain eye contact. “As a condolence for when you hear that I’m the top student and a shoo-in for the Plinth Prize and not you.”

A low rumble bursts from his throat and he pushes off of the pillar to tower over you, glaring down at your shorter figure as he growls, “That’s not going to happen,”

His closeness makes your heart race, and you want nothing more than to drop the fruit bar from your hand and tangle your fingers into his fluffy hair. You’d do it too - would risk everything, the perfect image you’ve cultivated and the resulting embarrassment of seeming needy - if only you knew he would reciprocate. But he’s stubborn, you don’t know, and your pride gets in the way of any impulsive decision you might make, no matter how hot the desire burns through your veins.

Instead, you bring the snack bar up to your mouth, perfect white teeth sinking into the sticky bar as you keep your eyes locked on his. Your intense focus on him is the only reason you see how his eyes falter from yours, the furious fire in them dimming into a softer need as they fall to your mouth.

Your glossed lips pull into a smirk. Finally, finally, he’s getting the picture. You knew it was only a matter of time. He was a man after all, and men are weak when it comes to the wiles of women. It was bound to happen, no one with eyes or any sense of a brain would be able to resist you for too long - Coriolanus was just a slight exception.

But you’ve got him now, can see in his eyes how badly he wants you. His eyes are locked on your lips, following the movement as they press together and move as you chew. The bright light in the hall is probably glittering off of them right now, making them look even more plush and enticing as it glistens off the thin layer of gloss that coats them. He’s probably thinking about how much he wants to kiss them right now. Imagining them wrapped around his cock and how soft they would feel as you plant sweet and teasing kisses along his shaft before taking him completely into your warm mouth. He’s probably kicking himself, wondering how he could have been so stupid as to push you away for as long as he has when he could have had you all to himself this whole time.

All the time he’s wasted because of his pride and ego.

The hand holding the fruit bar lowers slightly, teasing words of victory on the tip of your tongue as you open your mouth to gloat about your obvious success and his pathetic loss as he succumbs to his own desire for you. But you freeze when his wanting gaze doesn’t stay on your lips like you expect. Instead, they fall with the snack bar, following the food source like a puppy waiting for its master to grace them with a treat, and your words die before they can make a sound.

The food? Seriously? He was looking at the food?!

As if on cue, his stomach growls. He snaps out of his daze at the sound, a hand shooting up to press against his belly as if trying to quiet the noise.

You stare at him incredulously, eyebrow arched in disbelief. “Hungry much?”

He scoffs. “I missed breakfast this morning and now you’ve made me drop my snack. So, yes. I’m hungry.”

His words come out confident - practiced and dismissive in the way they would lead someone to believe his verbal jab in a heartbeat. But you’re too close to him right now for it to have the same effect that it normally would. You’re too observant, too eagle-eyed when it comes to all things Coriolanus, and now you're kicking yourself for not noticing it sooner.

The way his eyes flash with a moment of panic before they roll in annoyance, feigned annoyance, because there’s still nervousness clear in those beautiful blue orbs. The way they can’t help but flick just for the quickest of seconds towards the bar still in your hand and your own snap down to the movement of his stomach as he sucks in his belly, an obvious attempt at trying to use the muscle movement to starve off another growl.

The buttons on his shirt aren’t completely round, you notice. They do a good job at pretending to be, but under further inspection you realize that some are more oval than round. A couple are even slightly jagged. They remind you of the tesserae tiles you’ve seen in the maid’s bathroom - nearly a perfect match. Your critical gaze follows the rest of the length of his body, looking for anything else that suddenly seems off about the only son of the great Crassus Snow. Years ago, your father had mentioned rumors that the Snow family might not be in the most opulent financial standing. You hadn’t believed him at the time, the Snow family had always seemed very well off whenever you would see them around the Capitol or at events. Coriolanus had never once let on that they were living in anything less than a life of luxury during all your shared time at the Academy.

And yet, when you reach his feet, it becomes an undeniable reality. There, on the feet of the boy who you’ve been lusting over for the better part of two years, is a pair of too tight and just this side of too worn shoes.

You’re just barely able to hold back your gasp at the realization. He’s always been thin, but you chalked that up to him just being tall and lanky. But this? This is so unexpected.

Coriolanus Snow is . . . impoverished? Penniless.

Needy.

The idea comes to mind before you can even think about it, eyes sliding back up to meet his as you take another slow and mocking bite of your fruit bar.

“What will you do?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in question, slowly chewing the sweet treat. “When I win the Plinth Prize,”

“You won’t,” He answers quickly, and the raw determination in his voice makes you grin.

You take another quick bite of your bar and offer a small shrug of your shoulder. “Why don’t we be smart about this, Coriolanus? Put aside our teeth gritting rivalry in exchange for some good old fashioned, friendly competition.”

“What are you suggesting?” He asks, suspiciously.

“You can come to my home this weekend. We can study together. Make it a fair fight for our next exam,” And then, casual as ever, you add, “I’ll make sure we have lots of snacks at our disposal. Fuel for our brains, yes?”

Coriolanus pauses, clearly torn, and it’s unbelievable how someone who's always put on the face of confidence and self-assuredness can have their mask slip so carelessly so many times within a few minutes of interaction.

The door to Professor Rosebloom’s office opens and out comes a disgruntled looking Festus Creed. He glances at you and Coriolanus standing just feet away from the door, but surprisingly has nothing to say for once as he walks past and down the hall towards the grand staircase. Professor Rosebloom stands at the door, calling your name and gesturing inside her office with a sharp nod.

You look back at Coriolanus, a sickeningly sweet smile on your face as you walk backwards towards Professor Rosebloom. “Tomorrow, okay? See you then!”

The feeling of his eyes boring into you as you turn and disappear into Rosebloom’s office makes you feel unstoppable.

Coriolanus arrives at your house the next day around mid-morning.

He greets your parents respectfully, sharing a firm handshake with your father and nodding kindly at your mother, thanking them for allowing him into their home for the day and politely ignoring the looks of displeasure they both send him behind their masks of well-mannered hosts.

You guide him up the stairs to your bedroom and sit yourself on the bed, smirking when he stands awkwardly in the doorway, one hand gripping the strap of his messenger bag.

It’s so interesting to see him out in public, without the guise of an event or school trip to dictate what he wears. Today he dons a regular pair of pants, nice fitting around the waist and legs, but just a little too short around the ankles. You’re not sure if you would have noticed it had you not been looking. His sweater is a deep burgundy, thin lines of golden embroidery stitched around the collar and wrists to give an otherwise simple garment a taste of class. You don’t even want to look down at his shoes. If his nice dress shoes were looking tight and worn, you don’t want to see what his casual shoes look like.

It doesn’t matter anyway, everything he’s wearing is going to be on your floor in a little while anyway.

“Sit down, Coriolanus,” You instruct, pulling a book from your own bag and laying it out on the bed in front of you. “Don’t be shy.”

He takes a quick look behind him, checking to make sure your parents aren’t trying to spy from the hallway to catch them in the act of anything inappropriate despite this being a genuine study ‘date’ - at least on his part anyway. They won’t. Your father will be leaving for a lunch meeting in the city soon, and your mother will use the time to meet with her lover in one of the barely used guest bedrooms while he’s away.

Coriolanus clears his throat before walking over to the bed, sitting tall on the edge, one of his legs bent at the knee to twist himself to face you while the other leg hangs off the side.

“We should start with the top three points that we think are the most important of each chapter,” he says. He pulls his book and a small notebook out of his bag before placing it on the ground next to the bed and out of the way. “And then we can discuss and expand on each point together.”

“Sounds good,” You nod. “Let’s begin.”

Studying has never been difficult for you. You find yourself blessed with a remarkable brain and an even more determined sense of spite that makes remembering factual information simple. Thoughts of Coriolanus often plague your mind during your study sessions. He is, after all, the reason why you study so hard in the first place. But when the thoughts get too much, thoughts of kissing those plush lips of his, whispering dirty things in his ear and having him moan filth back to you - wanting to thread your fingers into his golden hair and push his head down so it fits between your thighs where it belongs . . . A power break, you call it. A moment of respite from studying in order to take power over your overflowing desire for the only man who’s been able to resist your temptations so far. Your hand would find its way inside your pants or underneath your dress, fingers dipping into your drenched hole and rubbing furiously at your clit imagining it was his until the pent up release sets you free and you're able to focus on your work again.

But with him actually being here, here in front of you, it’s a bit more difficult. Your pen stopped writing a while ago, eyes locked on the way his lashes flutter against his cheeks with each blink as he focuses on his notes. He bites his lip sometimes, teeth pressing into the plump flesh before he seems to catch himself and releases it, leaving behind twin red marks in the skin that you wish were imprints of your teeth instead of his. Your eyes travel down further to his throat, wanting to taste the smooth skin there under your tongue, and you can feel how wet you are already in your panties.

After about an hour, a maid enters the room with a tray of snacks. She’s right on time, entering through your doorway at the exact moment you had instructed her to, but you're so worked up from Coriolanus just existing a couple feet away from you on your own bed, that you glare at her like you want to bite her head off.

She doesn’t waste time, even more so when she sees your expression. The maid deposits the tray of food on the bed between the two of you and places a bottle of wine with two glasses on your side table before hurrying out of the room.

Coriolanus looks up from his notebook the second the food is placed in front of him, eyes immediately locking onto the tray. It’s obvious how badly he wants to go for it, but he holds himself back.

“Looks yummy, right?” You say, slyly, nodding to the small assortment of bread, cheeses, jams, and fruit. “Great brain food,”

He nods, throwing in an indifferent shrug as he responds, “Yes, it’s—it’s fine.”

You grab the wine bottle from beside you, uncorking the bottle with practiced efforts. “I also asked for some tastier things too,” You say, gesturing to the wine and the small bowls of chocolate sauce and whipped cream also adorning the tray. “A little reward to us for all of our hard work this semester.”

It’s funny watching him just sit there, struggling to appear calm and collected in the presence of such delicious foods. What do poor people even eat anyway? Maybe nothing. Maybe he survives on water and the lunches the school provides. What a shame, he’s too pretty to suffer. But if he is going to suffer, you're excited that you at least get to reap the benefits.

You pour two hefty glasses of wine, handing one to Coriolanus and bringing the other one between you, signaling for a toast. “To study dates and good food.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in an aborted smile, and, to be honest, you’re not sure if he means it or not, but nevertheless he clicks his glass against yours anyway. “To study dates and good food.”

You watch his face from behind your glass as he brings his own to his lips. His eyes flutter shut at the first taste of wine against his tongue, and you wonder how often, if ever, he’s had the experience before to make him make such a euphoric face. He licks his lips, catching the stray drops of wine on his upper lip before he clears his throat.

“It’s nice,” He comments, nonchalantly. “Sweeter than the wine I’m used to.”

“Oh, yeah?” You grin, swirling your wine gently in the glass. The wine aerates under your nose as you breathe in the sweeter notes of its smell. “The Snows prefer the taste of drier wines, huh?”

“Yes, we do,”

He cuts the conversation short, looking back down at the plate of food. He still has his pen in his hand, the other hand occupied by the glass of wine, so you take the opportunity to put the next step of your plan in motion.

“Keep writing,” You say, waving at his pen. You place your wine glass back on the side table and grab a small slice of bread from the tray. “You’re on a roll. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this.”

He clears his throat again, pressing the pen to the paper, but he can’t write anything. His eyes are glued to where you're prepping his snack, spreading a thick layer of creamy cheese on the bread before topping it with a few swipes of spiced jam. You want to laugh at how his mouth practically waters for it, lips parted in want and his pupils are unusually large against the bright blue canvas of his irises.

“There we go,” You coo, holding up the savory treat between you both. “Open up, Coryo. The jam on top is to die for.”

You watch in glee as he opens his mouth, letting you bring the bread to his lips before he bites down on it. It’s quiet, too quiet, but the room is quiet too - so no matter how concealed he tries to hide his small moan of pleasure, you hear it anyway. And the sound shoots right to your dripping cunt.

You feed him another bite, and then another, and you’re a little shocked that he’s even letting you feed him at all without protest or a show of pride, but you don’t complain. There’s a small smudge of jam smeared at the corner of his mouth. His pretty blue orbs never leave yours as you slowly trace along the sticky corner with your thumb, gathering up the bits of jam and popping it in your mouth letting out a small moan of your own at the taste.

“So good,” You say again. He gulps, trying to hide his nervousness behind another long sip of wine. “You know what else is really good? This chocolate sauce,”

Your middle finger dips into the chocolate bowl, chocolate coating your finger as you pull it out, the excess dripping back into the bowl. You pop your finger into your mouth, humming at the rich taste as it soaks into your tastebuds. Coriolanus’s eyes follow your movements, still dark in want but also colored with confusion. Poor baby, you think. If you were a better person, you would feel guilty about manipulating him so badly.

But you’re not, and the bitch inside you roars in delight at how well you have him exactly where you want him.

“Hmm, so good,” You whisper, slowly dragging your now clean finger back and forth along your bottom lip. “It’s William Dean, the best chocolate connoisseur in all of Panem. His chocolates are the best luxury, I’m sure you know, but I always prefer the chocolate sauce to the chocolates themselves.”

Your finger finds its way back into the chocolate before hovering it in front of Coriolanus’s slightly parted lips. “Don’t you wanna try it?”

There’s hesitation on his face, eyes flickering with uncharacteristic uncertainty from yours to your dessert covered finger and back again as he thinks. In the end, the want wins out, and he opens his mouth more to let you slip your finger inside. The inside of his mouth is warm and wet, the strong muscle of his tongue licking along your finger as he sucks off every single bit of chocolate offered on it. His tongue vibrates under your finger as he moans, louder this time than the last, eyes fluttering shut at the taste. You wonder if it’s just from the taste of the chocolate or from the combined taste of your skin and spit too.

“Delicious, right?” You ask, slowly pulling your finger from between his plush lips.

When his eyes open again, his pupils are blown wide - only a thin band of blue around the edges - and you can’t help but smirk at yourself in their reflection.

He nods, as if dazed, letting out a low “mhm” in agreement.

“Here,” You grab a strawberry off the tray and coat it with the melty chocolate just like your finger. “Try it with this.”

He doesn’t even hesitate as you bring it up to his mouth, lips parting as his teeth bite into the red fruit. You almost can’t believe how blissed out he looks, just from a few bites of food. His chewing is slow, like it’s purposeful - dedicated to savoring every second as he enjoys what he never gets to have, eyes hazy with an almost far away look to them.

Poor Coriolanus Snow, how the mighty have fallen.

You quickly bite the other half, barely registering the sweetness of the fruit mixed with the richness of the chocolate before tossing the green leafy top back onto the tray. Instead, the visual of him licking the leftover chocolate left on his lips from the bite into the fruit sears into your brain.

“It’s probably the best you’ve ever tasted, huh?” The dig comes out without your permission, but it doesn’t matter because while normally his clever and quick mind would have had you scrambling for a response to whatever his snappy comeback would have been, he doesn’t seem to catch on to your implication.

He’s too drunk right now. Too drunk on the few sips of wine and small bites of food he’s had. Too drunk on savoring everything, desperate in the way his gaze drops back down to the small feast in front of him.

“Hey,” You call, bringing his attention back to your face. He looks like a puppy waiting for his next command. “Are you going to thank me for being such a gracious host?”

“Thank you,” He whispers.

“No, Coryo,” You say, a wicked grin pulling at your lips. “Thank me,”

Your previous dig might have gone over his head, but the unspoken demand doesn’t. Hazy blue meets your own hooded ones, a breathless moment between the two of you as your words sink in, and then he’s leaning forward - soft, pouty mouth pressing against yours gently.

Victory burns through your veins like fire. The urge to scream like a madwoman, the sound feeling stuck at the back of your throat, urging you to let it out just so you can relieve some of this overwhelming excitement that runs through you. But no, you have to be calm about this. Strategic. Don’t fuck this up, you remind yourself. Don’t scare him off.

But your hands itch to bury themselves in his hair, wanting to grip the golden strands between your fingers and tug hard enough to make him whine against your mouth. His lips feel like heaven against yours, the soft press of his bottom lip fitting between yours before he pulls back, breathing into your space for a moment, before coming back in for another kiss without you even having to tell him.

His lips move against yours with an intoxicating combination of shyness and want. He’s still gentle, way too gentle for your liking - you didn’t wait to have him for this long for him to be soft about it. You want the roughness, the passion, the desperation where he wants you so much that he can’t bear to not have his hands on you for even a second. But there’s also power in the shyness, in the nervousness that you have erupting from every pore of his body.

When he pulls back again, you don’t hesitate to move your lips to his cheek, kissing across the cool, smooth skin. His hand has long since dropped the pen by now, now choosing to fist into the lush fabric of your very expensive sheets while the other somehow still holds onto his half filled wine glass. His breathing is starting to get shaky - unsteady shallow breaths puffing out next to your ear as your lips trace the line of his jaw.

Without even having to look, you grab another strawberry, dipping it into the chocolate and bringing it to where your mouth is pressing hot, open mouth kisses to Coriolanus’s jaw.

He jumps at the first touch of the tip of the fruit against his neck, a confused grunt escaping his lips as he mutters a quiet, “What are you doing?” But he doesn’t move away, doesn’t pull back from the way your lips nibble at the sensitive spot behind his ear.

You drag the fruit down the long column of his neck, leaving a line of tempting chocolate in its wake as you whisper a soothing, “Just relax, Coryo. I’m eating,”

Your tongue finds the bottom of the trail, pressing flat and wet against his neck as you lick away the chocolate in one long seductive lick. You're quick to repeat the process, dragging the fruit down the column of his throat, a delicious line of sweetness you can devour while tasting the distinct flavor of him underneath it. His head tips back to allow you access to the trail of chocolate on his throat, and you reward his cooperation by holding the fruit above his upturned face so he can sink his teeth into it while you sink your teeth into him.

His throat bobs underneath your lips when he swallows.

The whipped cream still sits untouched in the bowl, and your neck still stays untouched with Coriolanus’s kisses. So you grab his chin, dragging his face back down to yours once again.

“You hungry, baby?” You ask, your eyes locked on his. “You wanna eat, too?”

“Yeah,” He breathes, nodding frantically against your grip. “I’m starving.”

Whipped cream sticks thickly to the spoon as you pull it out of the small bowl. The white substance sticks to your skin as you drag it down along your neck, your body heat melting some of it directly upon contact and small streaks of white drip down to your collarbone. The spoon isn’t even moved away yet when he leans forward, pink tongue laving eagerly against your skin as he licks up the cream.

His tongue is so soft, wet and hot against your neck, warm breath fanning across the wet skin as his tongue follows the scattered drippings down lower. You're quick to add more whipped cream to your body, smearing it lower across your chest and over the swell of your breast peeking out from the top of your dress. The feel of his mouth on your breast makes your jaw drop, breathy sighs falling from your lips as you watch him lick the cream off your chest. His pink lips look beautiful on the round swell, thick lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks as he latches onto the top to suck gently, still trying to get every last taste of cream onto his greedy tastebuds.

Gripping his chin again, you pull him back up to your face, capturing his lips in a hungry kiss. He groans when your tongue pushes through into his mouth, sliding against his as you suck the taste of the whipped cream off his tongue. His hands come up to hold your face, one hand cradling your cheek while the other hand, still holding the glass of wine, reaches up to touch your jaw and helps to tilt your face up to his.

Your fingers grab the thin straps of your dress, pulling them down over your shoulders and freeing your breasts from the cups. You hate to drag your lips from his, teeth digging into his plump bottom lip and pulling as you pull back, grinning at the groan it rips from him in return. You grab the glass from his hand, arching your back slightly to puff out your chest more as you spill a little of the wine over it. Coriolanus groans at the sight of the red drink running down your chest, cascading over your breasts and dripping down further to soak into the material of your dress.

“F-fuck,” he whimpers, and immediately takes the hint, large hands gripping your waist to hold you still.

His pink tongue draws along your chest, cleaning the spillage from your skin as he nibbles along your breast. His plush lips wrap around your nipple, tonguing the hard bud with the tip of his tongue before sucking gently.

“Good boy,” You coo. You’re trying for a taunting tone, but the words come out more gritted than you would have liked as you feel your panties completely soak through. “Clean it all up for me,”

His pretty eyes look up at you as he sucks, dark with desire as he stares up at you through his lashes. He pops off your nipple with a wet sound, tongue dragging across the swell of your breast as he makes his way to the other one. When he’s done, your chest and tits are wet with his saliva instead of the sticky wine, and you shiver when his warm breath fans over the damp skin.

You lean back against the bed, holding the wine glass straight up as you lie down flat. His hands stay on your waist, seemingly unable to loosen their grip on your sides as he follows you down. He leans over over you, watching with wide eyes as you hike the bottom of your dress up so that it bunches up below your bust and out of the way. Your beautiful body is now on full display for him - soft, smooth, and well fed as his gaze feasts on the bounty now in front of him. His eyes lock onto your white lace panties, now practically translucent with how wet they are, but you steal his attention back with a quick call of his name.

With his eyes now back on yours, you tilt the glass over you, pouring the wine into the divet of your belly button and letting it pool there. Some of the liquid spills over, tickling your skin as it runs out along your belly and sides. Immediately, his head is at your belly, catching some straying droplets before they can soak into your sheets before his lips suction over your belly button, licking into it and sucking out the sweet drink from its makeshift cup.

Your fingers thread into his soft hair, locking into his fluffy curls, and when there’s no more wine to drink on your body, you push his head down further. His breathing is quick and excited as he allows you to push him down to your core, little pants of hot air hitting the drenched fabric of your panties as he peers up at you.

“Please,” He breathes, and you can’t help the smirk that pulls at your lips from the sight of him between your thighs.

“Go ahead and eat your meal, Coryo,” You say, leaning up on your elbow to watch him better. Your other hand casually keeps the still occupied wine glass upright and out of danger. “If you’re good, I’ll let you eat plenty more.”

He’s a good boy, you always knew he would be. Despite his air of confidence and ego he tries to emit daily at the Academy, you’re good at seeing through people’s disguises. Coriolanus is soft - a lost boy trying to find a place among the vicious sharks of Capitol people.

Ready to follow your every command in hopes you deem him worthy enough to throw scraps to.

He licks over the lacy material of your panties, and you can’t help the deep shiver that wracks through your body at the tease. His nose presses against the lace, the tip brushing over where your clit sits beneath it before he hooks a finger under the material and pulls it to the side.

His tongue feels like silk against your drenched folds, the wet muscle flattening against your slit as it slides up the length of your pussy. His hands grip your thighs, using the leverage on them to keep you still as he circles your puffy clit. You briefly consider telling him to put his hands behind his back, just to add to the image of him serving you - being your ‘good boy’ - but the vision of him between your thighs, face finally pressed against your cunt where it always belonged, has you momentarily thrown for a loop.

He looks so pretty down there, blond curls messy where you had your hand in them. You’ve waited so long for this moment. Dreamed about how good he would look between your legs, disheveled and wanting as he begged you to let him eat you out. Begs you to grace him with the privilege of fucking you. And now here it is. The moment you’ve worked so hard for.

And the payoff is gorgeous.

His eyes are half hooded in pleasure, mouth licking and sucking greedily at your juices, moaning into your pussy like he was retasting the wine for the first time again. His moan vibrates through your entire body from where his lips are wrapped around your clit, more wetness leaking out of your soaking hole at the pathetic sound.

You wonder what you taste like to him. Probably like honey.

The sweetest kind he’s ever tasted.

“Do I taste good?” You ask, breathlessly. Coriolanus ignores you, seeming to not even hear you as he shakes his face against your puffy pussy, too intoxicated on your scent and taste for your words to penetrate through the fog clouding his mind. You grin, speaking louder to catch his attention. “Snow, eyes on me,”

Immediately, those baby blue eyes are focused on you and your breath catches in your throat in excitement. That’s right, gorgeous. Keep your eyes on me.

“I asked if I taste good,” You repeat.

Coriolanus nods, mouth never letting up on the suction around your clit as he hums out a little “mhm”. You squirm a bit, switching arms so your weight is being kept up by the elbow of the arm cradling the wine glass while your now free hand reaches out to nudge at his head to urge him down further.

“Put your tongue in,” You demand, fingers gripping his curls again as you shove him down. “Fuck me with your tongue.”

His eyes flutter as he follows your instructions, ever the diligent student, and your mouth falls open at the feel of the tip of his tongue teasing your entrance before it pushes inside, spearing you open around the thick, wet muscle.

“Yes,” You moan, fingers leaving his curls to rub frantic circles around your pulsing clit. “Fuck me faster, Coryo,”

His fingers dig into the plush skin of your thighs, fingertips sure to leave bruises as he desperately pulls you closer, tongue digging as deep as it can into your depths as you clench around it. The coil in your belly tightens, pleasure ripping through you as you bite back the loud cry wanting to burst from your throat as the coil snaps and you cum on Coriolanus’s face, squeezing tightly around his tongue.

You huff for breath, fingers still greedily rubbing at the sensitive nub trying to soak up every last shock of bliss from your orgasm, even as Coriolanus pulls his tongue from your insides, panting. His face is drenched in your juices - debauched and dirty because of you, and the sight alone makes you want to lock your fingers in his golden hair again and pull him back in for round two.

You sit up, listening to the desire to dig your hand into his hair, but instead of dragging him down again, you drag him up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before licking up the side of his face, tasting yourself on his skin as you clean him up. He’s still breathing hard when you get to his lips again, and your eyes meet his as you press small teasing kisses to his frowning lips.

He’s confused, you can see it in his eyes. Can see the gears in his brain trying to make sense of what just happened and how he’s ended up in the position that he’s in. He’s thinking too much. Coriolanus Snow - always thinking himself stupid. And you're clearly not doing your job right if he’s still able to think after a session with you.

“Hey,” You murmur against his lips. Your hand frees his hair, trailing down his chest and stomach before gently cupping the prominent bulge in his pants. A shocked puff of breath exhales harshly against your lips. “Just go with it.”

“Are you trying to distract me?” He asks, lips brushing against yours with each word. “Keep me from studying so you can with the prize money for yourself?”

“Oh, honey,” You giggle. “We studied plenty today, didn’t we? And besides,” Nimble fingers slide up the smooth line of Coriolanus’s throat, curling around his jaw as you kneel up, angling his face up towards you as you gaze down at him. “You won’t forget a single thing you learned today after I’ve finished with you.”

Your fingers dig into his jaw as you press another head spinning kiss to his lips, completely obsessed with the way they mold against yours, soft and yielding against your demanding mouth. When you pull back, it’s with a wild heat in your eyes that you can see reflected in his own.

“Lie back,”

You watch in muted glee as he does, lying back flat against the sheets even as he scoots back further towards the center of the bed. Your legs move with him, following him back as you crawl over his sprawled out body, taking a small sip of wine as you settle on his hips. His cock pulses in its confines against you, pressed tightly against your soaked panties as you slowly rock your hips along the thick bulge. Pretty moans threaten to escape his lips, only muffled by sheer willpower to not open his mouth to let the sounds out to their fullest potential. His golden curls are unkempt, fanned out against your silk sheets like a halo, and you can’t help but think he looks like an angel like this.

An angel you can’t wait to ruin.

“Hold this for me, won’t you?” You say, pressing the wine glass into his hand. He grabs it as if on autopilot, holding it up prettily with the stem between his middle and ring finger, like a proper gentleman.

Impatient hands paw at his burgundy sweater, bunching the material up as far up as you can get it to reveal his long, skinny torso. Immediately, your mouth is on his skin, lips brushing lightly over his side, soft enough to tickle as they brush over the all too prominent ribs. You look up at Coriolanus, meeting his baby blues as he watches you kiss each individual bump along his side. His eyebrows are furrowed, lips parted as if wanting to say something, and you can only imagine the nonsense that could come out. He has to know that you know something’s up - normal, well-fed young adults don’t clearly have emaciated bodies like this. You have to admit, he’s done an admirable job at keeping the Snow family misfortune under the radar, but you’re not about to let his pride and ego get in the way of you and your prize.

“It’s learning by association, right?” You say, cutting him off before he can form his excuse. You lick a long stripe across his belly, his very flat belly - warm breath fanning across the wet path as you pull back to speak again. “We’re in the classroom, right? And you’re stumped on a question. So you’ll look over the balcony and down one row to the left, where I sit, and see me sitting there all pretty and hard at work,”

Coriolanus lets out a shuttering sigh when you scoot further down his body, pressing another gentle kiss just to the right of his belly button. “You’ll stare at my glossed up lips, all shiny and tempting in the light, imagining them pressed against yours,” Another kiss to the opposite side. “And you’ll remember the date the Treaty of Treason was signed into effect.”

“F-fuck,” Coriolanus whines as you hold his hips, using your grip to keep him steady as you trail your kisses lower and lower towards the waistband of his pants. His cheeks are so flushed, red flaming at the pale skin even as he drags his hand over his face. He’s trying to hide - how adorable.

“You’ll remember the various ecological disasters that brought about the creation of Panem everytime you think about my tits,” You continue, nibbling along his jutting hip bone. You draw a playful heart on his skin with the tip of your tongue. “About how soft and perfect they are,”

Your eyes drop down to the bulge straining in his pants, the dark material only made darker by the wet spot on them made from your own juices.

“The five major economic benefits to a split District-Capitol government will pop into your mind whenever you think about how I tasted on your tongue,” Coriolanus moans desperately when you lick across his clothed erection, hips jerking despite your hold.

Excitement fills your chest as you work the front of his pants open, quick fingers easing the zipper down over the thick bulge and working his gorgeous, gorgeous, oh so gorgeous cock free from its prison. You’ve waited a long time for this moment, and your greedy eyes don’t let it go to waste.

His cock is every bit as magnificent as you knew it would be. It stands tall and hard, thick with the head already coated with precum as it springs out and slaps against his belly. He’s going to fill you up so good, fill you up until you’re so full you think you might just burst from it. You want it. You want it so badly that you almost hate that you’re going to make yourself wait for it.

His bottom lip is caught between his teeth, body just barely trembling enough with nerves that you're able to see it through your own distraction. Your fingers sneak their way towards him, loving the way both Coriolanus and his cock twitch at the feel of your fingers wrapping around the heated length.

“And when you need to remember which US states combined to make up the districts,” You breath, head lowering down, your breath fanning across his weeping tip. “Just think of my mouth sucking on your pretty cock.”

The sound he makes when your lips wrap around the head of his cock makes you want to laugh. It’s pathetic, a high-pitched gasp that rips from his throat as his back arches against the bed. But the taste of his precum coating your taste buds as you suckle on the reddened tip has you distracted. He tastes so good, so much better than you think is fair. He already invades your thoughts and dreams with his too pretty face and better-than-you attitude - he doesn't need to taste as good as he does on top of everything now that you’ve finally got him.

There’s a moment when you consider reaching over to grab a spoonful of the whipped cream still sitting on the now forgotten tray. The food isn’t for you, it’s a means to an end - but there’s a part of you that can’t help but want to see what it looks like smeared against Coriolanus’s cock. You can picture it in your mind already, the flushed tip just barely hidden under the dollop of cream, the heated skin melting the topping just enough for it to start dripping down the sides of his cock before you can lick it all up.

You don’t do it, not willing to part with the much tastier treat you’ve won. Your mouth stays happily in its place as you work your way further down his length, humming as his cock slides across your tongue and brushes the back of your throat. The sounds trying to erupt from him make you suck harder, sucking in your cheeks as you bob your head, tongue laving across the underside of his cock with each up and down motion, greedy to get its fill. His hand clasps over his mouth, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to muffle his moans of pleasure. A pang of irritation zips through you at the thought that even as he’s giving into you - giving you what you’ve always wanted - he’s still being a stubborn asshole and keeping you from fully enjoying your success.

Those sounds are yours. They belong to you. You deserve to hear each and every adorably pathetic whine and gasp that creeps its way up his throat.

You’ve earned them.

He’s trying, he really is, but even his palm can’t keep his tortured groan quiet when you press down just a little too deep, nose aiming for that soft patch of golden curls at the base of his cock but not quite making it there as your throat spasms around him - choking and gagging around the thick length as you use it to bully your own airway.

Thick strands of saliva connect your mouth to his cock even as you pull off. Your hand strokes to make up for your missing mouth as you lean up, only pausing to press a couple of teasing kisses to the underside of the swollen head as you go.

“Open your eyes,” You demand, waiting for him to comply before slowly teasing the tip of your tongue along the slit on the top, just to watch his eyelashes flutter as his pretty eyes roll back. The sight makes you grin, the smug pull of your lips present even as you sit up, hips straddling his thighs as you perch yourself up.

Your nipples are so hard, pebbled and begging for his attention. You wish he could read your mind right now, so he would know to reach out and grab at them - squeeze your breasts in his large hands, message them and play with the tightened buds between his clever fingers. You wish he would pull on them, twist them enough to make you gasp and arch your back, and you’d reward him with tightening your grip on his cock, wrist twisting your palm around his tip in mimic of his own action.

He doesn’t, of course, hand still clamped over his mouth like it is. Still muffling those pretty, clit-throbbing sounds that belong to you.

Your right hand slides around his cock, using the copious amounts of saliva you left behind as a lube, spreading the wetness around his pulsing length and getting it nice and slick. His wet cock glistens in the overhead light of your bedroom, and, honestly - you never thought a cock could look so beautiful. Your other hand reaches out to grab Coriolanus’s wrist, yanking his hand away from his mouth so you can hear his sounds, undisturbed, as you jerk him off.

“Stop that,” You hiss when he tries to pull his wrist from your grip. “Don’t hide them. Wanna hear you. Wanna hear how good I’m making you feel.”

“Ah-hmm,” he moans, wrist ripping from your grip. But he listens, and rather than going back to cover his mouth, his fingers twist into the silk sheets instead, bunching them up in his fist as he watches you with wild eyes.

“Yeah, there we go,” You coo, fist stroking over his hot flesh as you work him faster. There’s a pearl of precum beading up on the tip of his cock, more pushing out the tighter you squeeze each time your fist gets to the top. Wet, slick sounds fill the room in time with your strokes, his pleasured moans cutting through the wet noises like a lewd symphony. “So much better, right?”

His thighs shake underneath you, hips stuttering and trying to buck up into your hold but the prison of your body weight on his thighs keep them pinned down. His moans turn into helpless blabbering - a endless string of ‘oh fuck, y/n, please, fuck, fuck–’.

The sound of him moaning your name sends a new gush of wetness into your already soaked panties. Your neglected clit aches for you to rub it, to grind the swollen nub on his thigh for relief - you think another wet spot on the dark trousers would look perfect.

You double down on your stroking instead, your other hand curling around his hip to keep it pressed against the mattress as your hand speeds up on his cock. Every time the wetness making him slick starts to dry up, you add more, leaning down just a bit to let another long line of saliva fall from your wet lips and onto the red flushed tip of his cock.

He’s so loud. The visual of you spitting on his cock is just way too much for his poor, inexperienced self to handle. The sounds coming out of his mouth are pure filth - hot and stomach clenching as you grin in satisfaction. It makes sense, you think. He’s loud and confident at the Academy, boisterous in his achievements as he speaks with a fake humility. It makes sense that he would be loud in the bedroom, unable to keep his voice down as he moans and whines like a slut.

“So loud, baby,” You tease. The hand gripping his hip finds the forgotten food tray, two fingers dipping into the almost empty chocolate sauce bowl. “You’re distracting me. Shh,”

Your fingers press into his open mouth, his lips automatically closing around your digits with a whimper. He sucks the chocolate off of your fingers like a good boy, eyes wide and wet making him look like he’s on the verge of tears. You want it. Want that push that’s going to make those pretty eyes spill out waterfalls over his flaming cheeks.

Just a little more.

Your hand moves faster on his cock, fist focusing cruelty on the top half of his shaft, palm twisting over the sensitive head with each stroke. The fingers in his mouth push back further and he gags, body jolting from the gag even as he moans around them again. The remaining wine in the glass sloshes from his jolt, but the crystal stays clasped between his fingers.

And there they are: twin trails running from his red rimmed eyes. You coo at him while the overwhelmed tears become victims to gravity. Instead of trailing down his cheeks like in the image in your head, one trails across his temple and soaks into his hairline while the other pools up along the side of his nose - and your empty, aching hole clenches tightly around nothing at the sight.

His cock throbs in your hand, hot and heavy as it twitches in the tight cage of your fingers, pretty red tip coated in a mixture of precum and spit disappearing and reappearing with each quick stroke of your fist. Fuck, you want it inside you so badly, want to feel him stretching you out. You’d make him cum within two seconds of being inside you, your pussy is just that magical. So warm and tight and perfect that men just can’t control themselves when they get inside of you - or so you’ve experienced with the other Academy boys who you’ve deemed worthy enough (although just barely) to have their moment with you. Poor pretty boy Coriolanus wouldn’t stand a chance. Frankly you’re shocked he’s even lasted as long as he has. You thought he might shoot his load in his pants while eating you out, although you’re glad he didn’t or this current playtime would have been unfortunately halted.

He’s so close, just a hair away from falling apart in front of your eyes. And you’re so hungry - so hungry for him.

The whines are muffled around your invading fingers, but they’re a constant now, no time wasted between them as he babbles around your fingers. The words come out garbled, but they sound a lot like ‘I’m gonna cum, please, please, fuck’. So you giggle, light and airy as you breathe, “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me,”

You don’t want to stop touching him. It’s addicting, making him moan and cry for you with just a few practiced strokes from your hand. You’d never stop if it was up to you. But your hand stops stroking his cock the second his eyes roll back into his head, just keeping a firm grip on the base to keep it still even as his body shakes. His cock twitches for a second, reddened head glistening before the first spurts of his release shoot out of the tip. They travel far, dirtying his stomach and splattering the smooth pale skin with white, some even making it as high up as his ribs, just barely missing the burgundy of his sweater. He cries around your fingers and you're sure the lack of stimulation is absolutely killing him. But he made you wait. He made you stress and work hard and put in effort just to get him. He needs to be punished for his crimes against your ego and libido.

He’s so pretty though, so so fucking gorgeous it makes you sick, and your willpower has just about been all used up. You stroke up his twitching length again, working him through the tail end of his orgasm, fist tightening and twisting at the top to milk out any lingering cum from the swollen tip. He’s still whimpering when you pull your fingers from his mouth, those same wet fingers moving to steal the glass from his hand, your eyes locking onto his as you finish the rest of the sweet drink in one last long victorious gulp.

Both of his hands find their way to you as his orgasm comes to an end, clutching at your thighs as the pleasure subsides but your movements don’t. He tries to push your hand away with a tortured groan, the stimulation becoming too much too quickly, but you easily slap it away. He’s weak, poor pathetic baby is too weak to make you stop - bones like jelly and brain still malfunctioning, no doubt. So you take advantage of all he’s worth even as you remove the circle of your fingers from around his cock and switch to palming the oversensitive flesh where it sits against his stomach.

“Ha- fuck, y/n, s-stop p-please,”

Your hand finally leaves his cock, choosing instead to wrap gently around his throat. Stop, he says? No. There’s no stopping now that you finally have him.

“You want me to back off the Plinth Prize, Coryo?” You rasp. “You’re gonna have to earn it,”

#𝑇𝑎𝑙 𝑊𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠 ✎#coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x reader smut #coriolanus x reader #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent

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thefandomdirtymind · 1 year

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Hello! I saw your post you're open for a request and I was wondering if I could I have OPLA Sanji?

About Sanji fall in love towards reader but reader was hesitate and unsure if Sanji is being sincere it's like she's having trust issues since Sanji is considered a ladies' man or flirty and was afraid he'll broke her heart?

A/N IMPORTANT: Hey, thank you for your request Anon ! I had to confess that it was kind of a hard one for me because well...trust issu hit close from home and I just start to write that angst even if it was not my specialty, but I really like the result and I hope you will too !

Trust Issues

OPLA - Vinsmoke Sanji

Sanji / OPLA Masterlist and Coming Soon

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

—

Love wasn’t your cup of tea. Sure, the idea of a partner supporting and adoring you like you deserve was cute. But, in your opinion, you have already done enough. After all, your last relationship has resulted as becoming a pirate and being abandoned by your lover to save his ass. And, If the humiliation hadn’t been enough, not long after your escape for the marines, you had seen him parading with his new lady wrapped around his arm. Like if you hadn’t existed at all.

So, nobody could blame you if you had some trust issues and an aversion for ladie’s man.

It’s why you knew the minute you saw his smile what Vinsmoke Sanji was : A pretty flirt.

If it was only you, you had refused his presence on the ship, but, like Luffy had said, the Going Merry needed a cook and the man was a hell of a fighter. As the morning came, you couldn’t also deny the fact that he looked incredibly good in his suit, his bag on his shoulder, ready to come aboard. Smiling at the instant he spotted you.

“ Hello Madam, I'm glad we met again. Can I say that you seem even more beautiful in this sunlight” He offered, from the dock, as you were sitting on the main deck rail adjusting a rope.

“ You may, but it doesn't mean I will accept the compliment. Luffy is on the upper deck if you search him” You coldly replied, trying to shut down your traitor heart. You will not fall for another pretty face, never.

“ I didn’t expect much Madam, thank you for the information “ Sanji replied, his mood in nothing affected by your coldness. Sure, he had hoped for a warmer welcome, but after serving you the night before and found himself unable to turn his gaze away from your beauty. He was satisfied with just being part of the same crew as you, the rest would come later he had assumed.

It took, in fact, way longer than he first thought. For the entire few weeks he had been on board, you hadn’t looked or talked to him except to thank him for the food or urgent matters.

Many times, the crew had tried to talk to you, asking you to be more nice with Sanji. But, even if you could feel his charm often softened your shield, your stubbornness was even stronger.

It wasn’t easy for Sanji either. He knew you clearly disliked him without knowing why. When, on his part, the more he was admiring you, watching you laugh with the others, hearing your brilliant plan, watching you gracefully climb the cordage and being as stubborn as him. Make him love you even more. Everyday, he was trying to charm you, offering you compliments, taking an interest in what you were doing or simply making you the best food he could. But, nothing worked, you answered him quickly and as coldly as always.

It'll take another two months and a storm before Sanji has enough.

The rain was falling for hours,helped by a wind so strong that you had to close one of the sails to avoid drifting away. Each two hours or so, the members of the crew were making a rotation, trying as much as possible to not fatigue themself too much and end up falling into the water.

You were the only one still standing, drenched by the cold rain, your muscles sore by the force necessary to keep the helm stable. Multiple times Nami and Usopp had tried to push you to take a rest or at least eat something warm, but each time you refused resolutely, you would pass that storm and rest after.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Sanji was finishing his soup, preparing three bowls for the crew member who will come downstairs to take their rest. As he prepared himself for going upstairs, doing his part, the blond chef saw Nami and Usopp going down the stairs, alone. You aren’t with them, again.

“ Where Y/N ” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“ She refuses to budge of the helm. we tried to talk to her but it’s like talking to a rock” Nami replied, wrapping herself in a big towel.

“ I’ll come back, I will bring her here “ Sanji only replied, his happy mood now sour. It wasn’t rare in the time who’s he was running the restaurant with Zeff that he lost his temper. He had lost it already a time or two during battle, but against another member of the crew,it was a first.

Making his way to the helm, he looked at you, already knowing it will not be easy. But, to be sure you’re in security, he was ready to fight you if he had to.

“ Y/N, your time has long passed, I will replace you. I prepared a dry towel and warm soup in the kitchen. Go take some rest “ He first tried.

“ I’m not tired or hungry “ You simply replied with your gaze focused on the horizon.

“ Then I’m afraid I have to excuse myself Darling “ Profiting from an adjustment of your position, he then proceeds to lift you on his shoulder, easily dodging all your attacks, as he was getting you down in the ship to dry both of you.

“ How dare you ! “ You scream, shaking of rage and cold. As he sits you on one of the kitchen stools and throws a dry towel at you. “ I was perfectly fine !”

“ You were on a trip to catch death ! “Sanji replied sharply, his gaze dark and his wet form in a stiff posture with anger “ I don’t know what I exactly did to make you dislike me like that, but I can care for you if you do some stupid things like that ! “

“ Then just don’t care about me and go flirt somewhere else !!” You angrily answered.

Taken aback, Sanji tilted his head, frowning his eyebrow, clearly confused.

“ Wait…what…You dislike me…because I flirted with you ?“ He slowly asked, trying to understand your point.

“ I just don’t understand why you haven't given up yet ! I had already done with the damn flirty kind, go charm your other ladies and leave me alone ! “

" My other…” Sanji starts disbelief. “ I don’t give up because I care for you…stubborn woman! " Sanji tried to say. Never had he thought that it was his manner that you hated so much. " But if my affection isn't required, fine, eat and rest, that's all I ask " He sighs ,disappearing upstairs.

A long and heavy silence fell in the kitchen after he left, leaving you with a curiously heavy heart and some concerned gaze of Nami and Usopp eating their soup. After a while, you sigh, defeated and take yourself a bowl. As always, the dish was perfectly balanced and delicious.

" You know y/n...I know your story, I understand, I do. But…Sanji didn't flirt with any woman aside from you for months…I think he genuinely likes you, " Nami softly spoke. "Of course I'm not you and you have all the right to act like you do, but it’s not Sanji's fault. He’s not him… and I think the day he will stop caring for you, you will realize it’s will be maybe too late”.

“ Maybe “ You admit, finishing your food before leave it into the sink and heading to the door” I will sleep a little, wake me up when it will be our turn again please “

But she never woke you up and when you opened your eyes, the sun was shining again on another day.

Sanji wasn’t the kind of man who'd give up easily, neither on his dream nor on the people he loved. But, even with his flirty tendency, respecting women and their wishes was a priority. It’s why, even if it cost him and that your word had wounded him, on that sunny day, he started to restrict at the minimum his attention to you.

And you noticed it immediately. His gaze on you, usually full of affection, was now more distant, he didn’t ask you if you had slept well, nor if you would like something in particular for breakfast, he simply put an omelet in front of you, smiled politely and returned to his occupation. Yes, for Sanji it was odd, but, as a ladie’s man you give him a week before going back to his old habit.

Luckily for you, life decided to give both of you a hand.

Your estimation could never be more wrong. After two weeks of polite but cold Sanji, you were almost wishing you never had that fight. Your traitor heart was missed his radiant smile toward you, his compliments for every little detail of your person or the way he tried to know every one of your favorite things. But you had broken it and you were now unsure how to repair it. Excuse could probably do the charm, but your stubbornness was always blocking you, estimating that protecting your heart wasn't shameful.

The Going Merry was anchored alongside an island, doing his needed resupply. As the last barrel had been brought on board, you followed the idea of Zoro and decided to join your companions for a drink at the little bar on the beach.

But, as you put your foot in the small place, you froze, your mind resuming to a static white noise. Your ex, already another lady at his arm, was installed with his crew at the largest table of the little tavern.

“ Hey Y/N come here, that table is free ! “ Luffy exclaimed, not noticing your stiffness.

“ Y/N is that you ! Damn girl, I haven't seen you since you were surrounded by Marines ! I own you for this one, how did you escape ?! “ The despicable man shouted, clearly more happy to see you, than you were to see him. “ Darla, that girl was... my most loyal crew member. “He explained to the girl at his side “Look at you, have you always been that pretty ? “

The compliment was the last straw that snapped you out of your shock. How could he talk to you so casually after all you had endured because of him. Doesn’t he have an ounce of regret or shame ?!

“ I escaped on my own after you had cowardly abandoned me ! “ You replied, as Sanji placed himself behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder in support.

“ Y/N, that man clearly doesn’t deserve your time, come, the drink will arrive soon” He tried, giving a hard look at the pathetique Captain who was now coming a you, his hand scratching his hair, gauging if Sanji was a menace for his future plan with you or not.

“ Not deserving of his time, I had already two years of her time mate, go sip your beer and let us discuss. Y/N and I have many things to talk about. I haven’t abandoned her, I knew she could escape, she’s a smart cat. Aren't you Sweet pea”

“ I have nothing to say to you, thank you Sanji but I’m not in the mood. Being in the same room as him would suck all the joy I have. I will be on the ship. “ You simply replied, making your exit before tears ran down your cheeks.

Sat on the upper deck, watching the night sky, the fresh wind drying your last tears, you saw Sanji came back onboard. Without a word, he simply sat beside you and offered you the bottle he was keeping in his hand.

“ Zoro sent his regards and I’m here to tell you that I’m sorry. I had tried to respect your wish, but I couldn’t stop myself tonight. I can’t not care for you and that man was...he shouldn’t ever treat a lady as you like that. Maybe now he had learn “

“ Sanji, what did you do? “ You asked, strangely touched that he had actually take your defense even after you had left.

“ I kicked his pathetic and disgraceful ass. I couldn’t tolerate the way he was looking at you, talking to you...But I understand now how my behavior led you to dislike me when I arrived, But I assure you that…”

“ I know, “ You said your heart, still fragile, beating faster.” You aren’t him and I should have waited to know you. I was scared, I didn’t want to like you because I was afraid to repeat the same story. But even if I tried, I realize when you had stop to caring for me that I miss it, I missed you…a lot“

Suddenly unusually shy, his cheeks a slightly shade of faded pink in the dark, Sanji avoided your gaze, a joyful smile spreading on his lips.

“ I suggest that we start over. We can't forget all those months but we can restart our relationship.I can’t wait to truly know you Y/N” He tell, finally planting in gaze in yours, that lost spackles in his eyes, the one you though forever vanish, back even brighter that ever.

“ I can’t wait too, Sanji “ You softly smile.

___

Your first kiss with Sanji happened a little shorter than a month later. At exactly the same spot.

Since that night, you have made a habit of watching the sky together, sharing stories, passions and thoughts. Even if the blond cook, not without surprise, seems to find the constellation less appealing than your sweet view at his side. But, you slowly adapted yourself to his flirting and even often replied, to his joy.

It was in one of those moments, as you turned your head to point to him a group of stars that Sanji captured your lips, answering your heart's deepest desire from months and even probably since the tall man had put a foot on the deck.

Somewhere on the lower level of the ship, you hear the playful screams and wolf whistles of your friends. But, as he captured your lips for another kiss you couldn't care less. You had an amazing group of friends, the sea was peaceful and with the help of Sanji, your heart finally started to heal.

#opla!sanji x reader #sanji x reader #one piece netflix #opla #opla sanji #vinesmoke sanji x reader #one piece #one piece sanji #opla vinesmoke sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #Request #Sanji Request

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hidden-snow · 7 months

Text

✦┈⋆┈ ⋞ 〈ＲｕｎｎｉｎｇＨｏｍｅｔｏＹｏｕ〉 ⋟ ┈⋆┈✦

Summary // You thought your relationship was as special to him as it was to you. You thought he loved and cherished you as much as you loved and cherished him. But when his family leaves the Omatikaya and all he has to offer is ‘I’m sorry’ when you beg and plead for him to stay with you, you realize that you were so, so wrong about him. Heartbroken and defeated, a girl barely seventeen years old, you decide that you will never love again. After all, it hadn’t meant anything to him. Years later and you are the best of the best. A strong warrior and an even better hunter, you provide for your people in every way except for a child to add to the next generation of Omatikaya people. They respect your wishes but you can hear the whispers. You can feel the concerned gazes from your parents, too old to conceive a sibling to make up for your lack of children. When he comes back, it throws you through a loop. Handsome, mighty, and different, he comes to you right away. But you promised yourself.

Warnings // Angst, a bit of stalker Neteyam, some fluff, mentions of drinking, heartbreak

Word count // 1,173

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

He was sitting by himself in a clearing, empty and lush with greenery surrounding him. You’d been watching for a while now, waiting for people to leave so that you could catch him alone.

He was surrounded by string, wood, and feathers, carefully crafting new arrows with gracefully elegant movements.

“Neteyam!”

You were the last person he expected to see, the last person to call out to him. His head snapped up, a blank look on those large golden eyes. And then he broke into a frenzy, trying to grab up everything he possibly could so that he could flee.

You stifle your eye roll as you walk through the grass, stopping in front of him with your hands on your hips.

“Well? Are you going to keep being an ass and not say hi?” you prompt and he stood up from his spot, several items still littered around him in the cool grass.

“I thought you didn’t like me,” he murmured, looking at you in the same sad way that a puppy would look up at the person who’d kicked it.

“Neteyam te Tsyeyk’itan, you stop behaving like a child and grow up for at least one conversation!”

You were tired of this little dance and tired of the way you both moved, as if parallels that would never meet.

So yeah.

Maybe you snapped a little harder than you meant to.

It seemed to work, though, as he blinked, ears pricked forward attentively. Good. Now you’ve got him where you needed him to be.

“Neteyam, I didn’t mean any of it. So please, stop avoiding me. I…”

You hesitate. Why is it so hard to spit out what you’re needing to?

“I’m sorry, Neteyam.”

Your voice was soft, full of emotions that you felt deep in the core of your being.

“I want you. Probably as much as you want me. I’ve been trying to fight it, trying to ignore it, but you made it impossible to ignore. So I snapped at you and pushed you away. I’m sorry.”

Neteyam looked at you for a moment before giving you a soft smile, previous anger and sadness in his eyes gone.

“You’re… you have emotions towards me? Good ones?” he asked quietly and you blush, nodding. Your hand falls to your arm, rubbing the skin in an awkward manner. Everything about this whole moment was awkward. Until it wasn’t.

“I love you, Neteyam. I never stopped loving you.”

You were both taken aback by your sudden outburst, your brain unable to handle the awkwardness between you two.

His smile grows into a full, bright smile, and he reached out to you, pulling you into his arms, against his chest.

“I can’t tell you how long I have waited to hear that from your mouth,” he whispered, chin resting atop your head. Your head moves to rest against his chest, listening to the soft beat of his heart, your soul soothed just by being close to him again.

“I love you, yawne. More than you’ll ever know,” he whispered, cupping your cheek with his hand.

His lips met yours, hands moving to hold the back of your head, and your arms wrap around his ribcage, bodies pressed against each other as the kiss deepened into a hungry, eager one. You could feel his body grinding against yours, starving for the feeling of your touch.

Your fingers trail down his chest, following his curve down to his tewng. Daintily, you skim over the growing bulge, straining against the fabric as you break the kiss.

“You should finish what you started four years ago,” you whisper, his breath hot against your lips.

“I’ve been waiting,” he responded, just as quiet, his hands falling to the underside of your ass to pick you up. Your legs wrap around his hips to keep yourself from falling from his grasp.

His hand slid down a bit more, fingers slipping past your tewng to slip into the heat between your thighs, and you gasp softly, clutching tightly to his body.

Slowly, his fingers pump in and out of you, thumb flicking over your clit, teasing you. You moan softly against his touch, wiggling a bit at the stimulation, body highly sensitive and receptive towards him.

“I think we have plenty of time,” he whispered in your ear. “For now, I just want to please you. I want you to know that this is about you right now.”

His fingers continued to pump into you, the rough pad of his thumb giving a delicious amount of friction and roughness to have you trembling in his grasp.

His lips met yours again, tongue swiping over your teeth and tongue, passionate and ravenous for your taste.

You wanted more, yet your brain told you that this was simply enough. Your body was tensing up, a coil building up within the pit of your stomach, and he could feel your spine arching inwards, chest pressing tighter against his own. His fingers pump into your soaked heat with a new vigor, his only goal to get you to your climax.

He wasn’t failing. You were getting closer and closer, fastly climbing up that mountain to the high that would follow right after you hit your orgasm.

You hadn’t been touched like this, not since before when he’d been here and everything had been perfect and shrouded by clouds of love and innocent trust.

You groan softly against his lips, fingers threading through his braided locks before tightening around them, gripping them as if they were the only thing keeping you held tight against him.

His fingers were working with an urgency, applying as much friction as possible without causing pain. They pressed and wiggled against your gummy walls and he hummed softly, feeling you tighten around his digits.

“Cum for me, my pretty girl,” he whispered in your ear as he gently nipped at the shell, feeling the way they fluttered against his lips.

His words, mixed with the friction, were enough to bring you to the end of the mountain you were climbing.

Your head tilted back as your spine arched, a gasp escaping your lips as the coil shattered within your stomach, your body tight and tense with the intensity of the climax. If his fingers could do this to you, you couldn’t help but imagine what the rest of him could do.

Neteyam grinned, lowering you down into the grass before laying down beside you, pulling you close as his fingers ran lightly over your skin. You take the hand that had been touching your lower half with such passion, and you pop his fingers into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around them in an attempt to lick your taste from his skin.

He continued to hold you close, pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder and upper back.

“I love you,” you whisper softly to him and he pulls you closer against his chest, kissing your cheek lightly.

“I love you too. I always have and I always will.”

Taglist // @earthling55 / @cardi-bre91 / @bambithewriter

#avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar #avatar fandom #avatar fics #neteyam #Neteyam sully #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #atwow #atwow neteyam #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam fic #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam fluff #neteyam angst #running home to you series

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kindlingkeen · 3 months

Note

Keen!! No pressure or anything but will you ever write Jason&Damian-centric fics? hehe

Dick finds him on the top of the Old Gotham Cathedral at dawn.

Jason hears the sound of boots touching down behind him and doesn’t bother to turn around. Nightwing has always had a different cadence to his landing than the Bat. It’s lighter, softer. He can never really suppress the bounce to his step.

Jason runs his hand over the head of the stone gargoyle to his right once more, the weather-roughened stone catching against his bare palm.

“I’ll be gone by tonight,” he says evenly. “I just had a few things to take care of while I was in town.”

“Hood,” Dick calls softly, “Jason, please.”

Jason hunches deeper into his hoodie. He feels naked without his leather jacket.

In front of him, the Gotham’s skyline stretches out. The buildings are bathed in the pink rays of the newly rising sun. For a moment, the city’s darkness, the poison-riddled grime that covers everything, fades away in the sun’s burgeoning glow.

“What do you want, Wing?” Jason asks irritably.

Dick’s boots scuff against the roof's slate tiles as he moves closer. Jason knows Nightwing can be absolutely silent when he wants to. His shoulders climb up higher, practically to his ears. He doesn’t turn around.

“Aren’t you going to ask about the kid?”

“No,” Jason grinds out, ignoring the way his stomach twists. His hand clamps down hard against the gargoyle’s head, his fingers digging into the stone. He feels one of his thumbnails crack and tear.

“He stabbed Tim.”

Jason snorts softly as he rolls his shoulders back slowly, letting his hand fall away from the statue to rest in his lab. “I warned you about letting him near weapons.”

“It was a butter knife!”

Jason huffs a breath out his nose, amused in spite of himself. He pretends not to notice when Dick plops down onto the roofline three feet away from him. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as the vigilante hunches forward, propping an elbow onto his knee with a sigh as he drops his chin into his hand. Even with Nightwing’s domino in place, Jason can feel Dick’s eyes boring into the side of his face.

“Jay, he’s refusing to speak in anything except Arabic. B is the only one who can understand him.”

The tilt to Jason’s lips falls away. “Don’t call me that. And the kid knows English. He’ll come around.”

“He’s not even five years old. He lost his mother. His home. He got dragged halfway around the world only to be left with strange people in a strange place.”

Jason glances over sharply, finally meeting Dick’s gaze directly.

“Does the Bat know you’re here, Wing?”

Dick grimaces. “He won’t stop asking for you, Jason. He cried himself to sleep last night, and the only thing he would say was your name.”

Pain lances through Jason’s chest as white-hot heat clogs his throat.

“What are you to him, Jason? You bringing him here—it’s more than just you owing Talia a favor.”

Nightwing’s white lenses stare at him unblinkingly. Jason looks away.

“You still haven’t told me what you want, Wing. You can’t guilt trip me into something if I don’t know what you’re asking for.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Dick says softly, “Come home, Jason. Please, we need you.”

Jason surges to his feet, stumbling back a step before he catches himself. The scar across his neck throbs.

“The manor isn’t my home,” he rasps. “Not anymore. I’m not welcome there.”

Dick springs gracefully to his feet, following Jason’s retreat with measured steps as Jason continues to back away slowly across the roof.

“It is, you are,” he entreats, and then more softly, “please, for Damian. He needs you.”

Jason swallows, his throat working. He feels the echo of a warm weight in his arms, soft hair tickling his face, the fresh, clean smell of a baby wafting thickly through his nose.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Jason whispers, his voice cracking at the end. But he stops moving away.

He can see the knowledge that he’s won wash over Dick’s face a second before the man smiles tentatively. Jason scowls in return.

“One week,” he spits out. “Just until the kid settles in. And the Bat stays out of my way. Don’t start playing happy families in your head.”

Dick’s smile grows. “Sure, Jay, whatever you want.”

“Don’t call me that,” Jason grumbles. But he follows Dick off the roof all the same.

~~~

More details on this AU in progress here.

#the answer is yes anon #if that wasn't clear #but this one is a long way off from seeing the light of ao3 #jay and dami meet in the loa #post aditf au #baby dami #damian wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #keen converses #tumblr drabbles #my fics

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arteastica · 30 days

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (29)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27) | (28)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?

wc: 6.8k

“Lord Angert,” your father began, savoring the name together with his favorite black tea. “The renowned author. I’m sure you’re familiar with his work.” He continued, feigning modesty with a nonchalant flick of his hand, yet the gleam of pride dancing in his eyes betrayed his true intentions. “Even he couldn't resist my darling's charm. Oh, the poetry he must have penned in her honor... words cannot do her justice.”

Your father's words hung in the air, each syllable a heavy stone dropped into the once calm waters of your mind. The golden afternoon glow, not too long ago a source of comfort, was now a fading memory, casting long, distorted shadows as the impending dusk descended upon the tearoom. Outside, dark shades of blue took over the sky, and inside, a suffocating dread seeped into your veins as you recalled the events of that winter day Lord Koch had visited the base.

The Commander. You knew how he felt about Leon. He had made his stance clear that night in his office. And now, you could almost feel his gaze upon you, but you dared not glance his way. His eyes, you imagined, were performing a cold, calculating assessment on you, dissecting your every reaction to find an explanation he could take home with him tonight. And you wished you could provide just that, you wished you could explain that you'd carefully avoided mentioning Leon’s visit the previous winter, fearing the very misunderstanding now unfolding before your eyes.

Your heart longed for clarity just as much as you imagined his did, but under your mother’s watchful, scrutinizing eyes you were trapped. You knew she had been piecing together the puzzle of your relationship, one carefully observed detail at a time, and that every breath, every movement you made would just confirm her suspicions about the two of you. Whatever those might be.

And like so, you became nothing but a mere spectator to your own demise. Sitting there in silence, as still as possible despite the tight knot suffocating your throat. Sitting there in uncertainty, silently praying for a moment of privacy with him, for a chance to explain, to clear this misunderstanding before he left. Before it was too late.

“Our daughter has had numerous suitors since she came of age,” your mother began, her voice surgically cutting through both, the silence left by your father’s monologue, and your distressing rumination, “however, she has consistently declined all their advances.” She declared calmly, while her fingers, steady as a painter’s, lifted the delicate porcelain cup to her lips, the controlled elegance with which she carried herself standing in stark contrast to your own trembling hands.

“Lord Angert, while a formidable prospect, was no exception.” She concluded, taking a sip from her cup, her movements as precise and calculated as her words. And maybe it was the sliver of relief you felt at her opportune intervention, but in that moment, you realized you’d never seen anyone drink black tea so gracefully before.

“Sometimes,” she continued after savoring her drink, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, a small gesture that made you hold your breath in anticipation of whatever words were about to leave her lips, “one wonders if her heart has already found a home somewhere else.”

A sudden, sweltering fever started to burn your face, threatening to consume you whole. Your heart pounded in your ears along with your mother’s last words, a deafening drumbeat against the quiet of the tearoom, drowning out the gentle chirping of night birds that had just woken up from their slumber. And maybe it was the open window and the cool evening breeze blowing against your neck, but despite being in your childhood home, you felt exposed and vulnerable; the urge to seek refuge in the Commander’s gaze, an overwhelming impulse. The need to meet his eyes and apologize for this whole conversation, from the marriage misunderstanding to your mother’s uncomfortable assumptions, was overpowering. Yet the fear of doing so, unintentionally proving her point, and making things even more awkward for him was even stronger.

“Who? A Survey Corps soldier?” Your father interjected, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and amusement as he began to pick up the clues your mother had not-so-subtly dropped. “Buttercup?” He questioned, turning his attention to you, and you could practically see the gears turning in his mind as his keen eyes drilled into you, studying your features as if they would ever betray you and give away your little secret.

“But, aren’t romantic relationships…prohibited there?” He asked, this time turning to the Commander, seemingly begging him to soothe his worries away with a firm nod of his head, which you didn’t know whether he got. You still didn’t dare to look anywhere near the tall man sitting across from your father.

“I mean, I would bet there is no shortage of suitors back at the base,” he continued, his tone shifting to one of protective concern. “But I trust you to keep an eye on my little girl, Erwin. She's my most precious possession.”

“I promise to always take good care of her, Sir,” the Commander assured him, his voice firm as ever, yet gentle as it was on those intimate moments when it was just the two of you, alone in his bedroom, your naked bodies tangled by the crackling fire, his fingertips drawing random patterns on your sweaty skin, and his agitated heartbeat singing under your ear. And like so, in the sincerity of his voice, in the warmth of those shared memories, you found the courage to finally meet his eyes.

And to your surprise, there was no anger, resentment, or recrimination lurking in their depths. Instead, all you could see was a promise - a promise not just to your father, but to you as well. And, in that fleeting moment, as your eyes locked and his lips smiled reassuringly, you allowed yourself to imagine a future where those words were not merely a casual promise of temporary protection, but a sacred vow exchanged under the watchful eyes of your family.

“Alright, it seems dinner is ready,” your mother announced, a contented hum escaping her lips as she began walking towards the kitchen, where the tantalizing aroma of roast turkey was calling. Rising from your seat, you closed the window with a gentle click, blocking out the fading daylight and casting the room in a warmer, more intimate glow.

The clinking of silverware against porcelain echoed through the dining room, the aroma of roast turkey and creamy mushroom gravy filling the air as the street lights, now casting long shadows over the room, created a sense of comfortable intimacy.

Your parents, engrossed in their own world of high society gossip, didn’t seem to notice the moment your hand found its way into the Commander’s, your fingers intertwining with his beneath the table. The warmth of his skin sending shivers of delight all over your body.

Luckily for you, your mother’s favorite book: Other people’s personal business, was open in Frida Achterberg’s chapter tonight, and in this moment, with her attention entirely focused on Lady Achterberg’s children and not you, you felt a sense of freedom, a chance to connect with the Commander without fear of prying eyes.

“I heard it from Hansel today,” your father said, his mouth full of roasted parsnip, “he introduced Augusta’s niece to Lady Frida’s son. They’re tying the knot in Orvud this summer.”

“Miss Berger? Marrying that dreadful young man?” Your mother exclaimed, her voice dripping with disdain, as if the mere mention of Marco Achterberg’s name was a social sacrilege. “Can you imagine?”

Your father, ever the eager participant in such conversations, leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I heard it was a match made in the heavens,” he said with a mock seriousness. “Two peas in a pod. Hansel is an experienced matchmaker, after all. Ha ha”

You and the Commander exchanged a silent, amused glance, a secret smile playing on your lips as you listened to your parents' animated conversation. The warmth of his hand, clasped securely with yours beneath the table, reminded you of a comforting cup of chocolate on a cold, snowy day. And his thumb, tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand, was speaking in a silent, secret language only the two of you could understand.

“Can you believe it?” your mother exclaimed, still hung up on Miss Berger’s fate, her features contorted into a mixture of surprise and disappointment. “Young Miss Berger is to be married! Such a pity, really. She's barely out of her teens.”

“Well, someone has to inherit that fortune.” Your father chuckled, a hearty sound that filled the room. “She was Lady Marina’s only child. There’s nobody else to share those golden ingots with,” he replied, his tone laced with a hint of envy. “Let's hope the Achterberg boy appreciates her.”

As your father’s voice drifted into the background, you risked a glance at the Commander, your heart pounding in your chest when you found his eyes already fixed on you. Their deep, captivating blue, meeting yours for a fleeting moment before he turned his attention back to your parents.

“Isn't it scandalous?” you heard your mother say, the faux outrage in her voice making the Commander chuckle softly. But her voice was merely a distant, fading melody for you. Because, his smile… Goodness, you could stare at it for the rest of your days, forever lost in t-

“Buttercup,” your father’s voice interrupted the moment, breaking the spell, your heart racing as you reluctantly let go of his hand, forcing your attention back to the conversation. The Commander, ever the gentleman, mirrored your actions, his expression carefully neutral. “What became of the Achterberg girl you went to institute with? The one who tried to set Mr. Gunter’s office on fire?” He inquired, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Lady Frida’s eldest?” You asked, indulging in a sip of cider to wash any hints of guilt or discomfort from your face. “I heard she married Lord Koch’s cousin, and moved to Karanes.”

“Hansel’s cousin?!” Your father’s voice, as well as his eyebrows, shot up in alarm before turning back to your mother, “that can’t be right. I’m quite certain they’re all well into their fifties, and more importantly, married already!”

As your parents continued their lively discussion about the local aristocracy, you leaned in slightly in the Commander’s direction, your breath warm against his ear. "I believe you would be a far better match for Lady Achterberg's daughter," you whispered, a mischievous smirk tugging at your lips. “She’s a chess prodigy, just like you. Perhaps I should consider myself lucky Lord Koch didn’t introduce you first.”

A playful glint appeared in his eyes as he chuckled softly. “Perhaps.” He murmured back, his voice low and intimate. “Although, I believe Lady Achterberg’s daughter would be quite disappointed to learn that I don’t count setting things on fire among my… interests.”

You couldn’t suppress a giggle as you glanced at your parents, making sure they were still engrossed enough in their animated conversation.

“I’m beginning to notice a connection between Hansel and the ancient art of matchmaking,” The Commander continued, a hint of amusement in his voice, “I suspect he’s trying to take over the social scene one arranged marriage at a time.”

“Well, Lord Koch is a wealthy man with five married daughters, he has nothing to do but marry off everyone else’s. Try the cream of parsnip.” You suggested, serving him a generous ladle next to his sourdough bread.

“Lady Frida isn’t entirely without her faults.” Your father conceded, a hint of empathy in his voice. “Yes, a bit conceited perhaps, but there are far worse people inside these Walls. It’s sad to see the way her kids turned out.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge in her face. “Well, she did raise them, didn’t she, which is a questionable thing on its own. More bread?” She asked, an offer neither you nor the Commander could decline.

“It’s a beautiful house, madam,” he remarked, dipping the crusty bread into the cream of parsnip.

“Thank you, Commander,” she replied, a subtle nod of appreciation as she placed two additional buttery slices of bread on his plate.

“A townhouse in the heart of affluent Mitras, six bedrooms, three floors, and a private garden. What’s not to like?” Your father jumped unprovoked, unable to resist an occasion to display his wealth. His enthusiasm, however, quickly vanished in a matter of seconds. “Except, of course-”

“The shared wall,” your mother and you finished the sentence in unison.

“Exactly, I don’t like-”

“Sharing a wall with the neighbors,” you two said again, exchanging amused glances with each other.

“Exactly.” Your father conceded, a little annoyed at the two women in his life.

“A most impressive property, Sir,” the Commander remarked, his gaze traveling across the room, “I couldn’t help but notice the lack of staff. Is it only the two of you at home, Madam?”

Your mother chuckled softly. “That’s correct, Commander. I find joy in caring for my family,” she said, placing yet another serving of turkey on your father’s plate. “I enjoy cooking and they seem to enjoy my cooking, why would I let a stranger steal one of the highlights of my day? And what’s worse, pay them for it. Would you care for some more turkey, dear?”

You shook your head seconds before realizing it wasn’t you whom the question had been meant for, but the Commander.

The affectionate slip of the tongue sent a jolt of surprise through you as you glanced at your mother, her face betraying no hint of embarrassment. She hadn’t even noticed. The Commander, however, seemed to have caught the accidental endearment, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he gave her an affirmative nod.

Your mother, usually so reserved against visitors, was displaying an unexpected vulnerability tonight, the endearing mistake a silent confession of her growing fondness, perhaps? Or so you would like to think.

As she offered the Commander a generous serving of turkey, a pleasant warmth crept onto your cheeks, realizing the implications of her words. She had fallen in love with him even faster than you had.

“Family is really everything,” your father declared, randomly inserting himself back into the conversation after taking a long pause to sip wine. “Ever considered starting one of your own, Erwin?”

“In my line of work, sir, those are not the kind of thoughts one is allowed to entertain,” he replied, his tone polite but firm.

You lowered your gaze, feigning interest on the food, your face as hot as the soup you pretended to stir. The course of the conversation was clear, and you dreaded the uncomfortable territory you were headed for.

Your father, oblivious to the tension his interrogation was causing you, pressed on. “So you are not wedded,” he observed, more to himself than to the rest of you present at the table. “Have you ever been?”

“I haven’t, Sir.” The Commander replied, his voice steady.

A flicker of disappointment crossed your father's face. “How come? I imagine a man like you, with your masculine bearing and remarkable intellect, wouldn't struggle to find a partner, should you ever change your mind.” He suddenly turned to you, his wrinkly eyes twinkling with genuine curiosity, and perhaps, something else... “Right, buttercup?”

Feeling a blistering blush spread all over your face, you squeezed the Commander’ thigh abruptly, a little above the knee, forcing a smile to meet your father’s seemingly innocent one, and wishing to melt into your chair. With his inquiring eyes focused on you, you were suddenly flooded with flashbacks to that awkward moment in the tearoom from earlier, but at least now you had the warm, firm muscles of his thigh to hold on to for support.

“Your commander here is a fine gentleman,” he continued, stating the obvious, as if you’d never noticed yourself, “a man like him, in his prime, his wife will be a very fortunate lady.”

You smiled forcefully, unsure how to respond.

“Reminds me a lot of myself back in the day.” He sighed longingly, as if remembering a sweeter, more youthful past he could never go back to. “Like Erwin here, I was a man of substance, with a keen mind and even sharper wit.” He recalled, a touch of vanity creeping into his voice. “Tall, muscular, built surprisingly similar to one of those stone sculptures from the museum, if I do say so myself. Right, pumpkin?”

“If you cannot think of anything truthful to say, you will please restrict your remarks to the weather.” Your mother replied, and even though still a little tense, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Tea in the salon, everyone?” She asked, her joyful tone immediately warming the atmosphere.

You exchanged a knowing glance with the Commander, the shared amusement in his eyes making you smile. In this moment, surrounded by the people you loved and the man you had fallen for, you felt a sense of peace and contentment.

“Unforgivable! I almost got you!” Your father exclaimed, his laughter echoing from the salon all the way to the dining room, where you stood at the table, clearing away the remnants of dinner.

You’d never seen him so engrossed in a game before. His competitive spirit paired with his complete lack of skill on the chessboard, had always turned the game into a source of frustration for him.

“Perhaps next time, Sir.” The Commander chuckled, making his final move, a calculated precision in his actions that together with the blue depths of his stare, was both captivating and intimidating.

You paused in your task, your gaze drawn to the two men. There was an undeniable affinity between them, a fresh bond forged in shared respect, or royal conspiracy theories, perhaps. Little did it matter, it was a precious thing to witness nonetheless, rare like the unusual moments of domestic tranquility the Commander almost never got, a respite from the complexities of his world. The realization filled your chest with warmth, as comforting as the soft glow the salon was bathed in.

“I won’t be so forgiving next time, Erwin!” Your father promised, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“I will be ready then, Sir.” The Commander replied, his eyes meeting yours briefly before returning to the board, a soft smile playing on his lips.

The flames dancing in the fireplace behind him, the steam coming from the mug beside the chessboard, his relaxed, comfortable demeanor… it all took you back to that early winter night in his office, the first time he made love to you.

A warm smile spread across your lips, the memories from that night flooding your chest with a quiet joy, making your skin tingle with a delightful combination of pleasure and excitem-

“You love him.”

Your heart pounded in your ears, throat tight and dry as your hands stilled, the remnants of dinner forgotten.

“Mother?” Your entire face was burning when you met her gaze, surprise and apprehension battling within your chest as you wondered how long had she been observing you.

“You are in love with Commander Smith,” she stated plainly, her voice carrying a quiet conviction that sent shivers down your spine.

With your heart threatening to break your ribcage, you opened your mouth to deny it, but no words came out. Your mother, with a keen understanding of the situation as she always did, turned her attention to the men conversing animatedly in the salon, giving you a moment to regain your composure.

“Mother,” you began after a while, your voice barely a whisper, “you have an extraordinary imagination.”

Her lips curved into a knowing smile. “Perhaps,” she conceded, “but a mother knows her child, doesn't she?”

Her eyes, always filled with warmth and understanding, now held a knowing look as well, a look that said she had seen through you, understood you in a way that no one else ever had.

“I know you, my dear,” she continued, her voice carrying a quiet authority, “I saw you when Lord Wald’s youngest tried to dance with him,” she chuckled, her tone laced with a hint of amusement, “and I saw you dancing with him too. The way you blushed when his hand found your waist, the way you smiled with your head on his chest…” She paused, still looking at the Commander, whose eyes were crinkling with amusement at something your father just said. “The way you smiled at each other when you thought no one was looking.” She finally turned to you, her eyes softening when they met yours. “I’ve seen this before, you know.”

Your entire face trembled, your muscles doing their best to prevent any emotion from escaping. Looking away from her knowing gaze, you sought refuge in the sight of the man laughing with your father in the room next door. Your little secret should not see the light tonight. Not like this. Not when neither of you were ready.

In that moment, as if fate conspired together with your mother to prove her point, his eyes met yours, his lips offering you a sweet smile, filled with a tenderness that made your heart skip several beats.

“The things you say!” You exclaimed, looking away from him as fast as you could, your ears burning after realizing your mistake, your voice rising slightly in a futile attempt to mask your discomfort. “That’s nonsense, mother. The Commander- he-”

“He is a fine gentleman,” she interjected, her voice soft, “well-mannered, educated, hardworking,” she smiled reassuringly, her protective eyes wrapping you in her warm gaze, “and my daughter deserves nothing less.”

Your lips trembled, threatening to let a small smile slip, her words of approval caressing your ears like soft velvet.

“Not to mention,” she continued, her eyes momentarily traveling to the Commander before returning to you, “he’s also very well-favored, if I may add,” she conceded, the playful smirk tugging at her lips making you chuckle.

“I’ll take it from here,” she declared, taking the cleaning cloth from your hands, “now go, before your father embarks on one of those ridiculous theories about secret societies thriving beyond the walls,” she added, exasperated at the absurdity of such notion.

With the weight of your secret becoming a little lighter now that you had one less person to hide it from, you settled onto the couch, your body instinctively seeking the warmth of the Commander’s side. Your mother joined shortly after, just in time to witness your father challenge the Commander to a rematch. And for the rest of the evening, there were no more interrogations, no more inquiring eyes on the two of you. Only laughter, the gentle crackle of the fire, and poor chess decisions by your father.

“Sir, Madam, thank you for a most delightful evening,” the Commander said, his voice carrying a note of sincere gratitude, “your hospitality will be long remembered.”

Disappointment shot through you as you watched him rise to his feet, realizing the evening was drawing to a close. You stood as well, your feet heavy with the impending farewell.

“Anytime, Commander Smith. Do you have a place to stay the night?” Your mother inquired, her voice warm and inviting. “Why don’t you stay here? There’s plenty of space.”

The Commander hesitated, his gaze shifting to you for a moment before going back to your mother, and from that look alone you already knew what his answer would be, even though his lips were yet to make it official.

“I appreciate the offer, Madam, but I believe it best to arrange my lodging at a nearby inn.” He announced, a polite smile gracing his lips. “You’ve already been very generous with me, and I don’t wish to overstay my welcome.”

“Nonsense, we made you stay in Mitras longer than you intended to,” your father interjected, his voice firm but laced with warmth, a warmth that ignited a little flame of hope inside you, that maybe your parents could somehow convince him to stay, “the least we could do is offer you a warm bed for the night.”

The Commander bowed his head, a subtle smile playing on his lips, "your hospitality knows no bounds," he replied, his voice filled with sincere gratitude. “However, Sir, I’m afraid my answer should remain the same.”

Your mother's smile widened. "Of course, we understand. And we won’t delay your departure any further as you must be tired, but please, do visit again soon. You're always welcome here."

“That’s right, and before you go, Erwin,” your father began, his grip firm as he shook the Commander’s hand, “once again, thank you for watching over our girl.” A genuine smile graced your father’s features before they grew darker, a shadow of concern crossing his eyes as they scanned the room, seemingly expecting an unseen threat. “Be careful out there, Erwin,” he warned, “these are uncertain times and those who share our beliefs must be vigilant.”

A shiver ran down your spine as your father’s words sank in. He was not usually like this, and the seriousness in his voice was as unsettling as it was concerning. If he was this alarmed, then the world outside these familiar walls must be far more perilous than you had originally imagined, even in the ‘safe haven’ known as Mitras.

“I certainly will, Sir. Be careful as well.” The Commander replied, exchanging a serious glance with your father, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken danger. And something about their demeanor made you suspect that it wasn’t titans what they were worried about.

“Mother, Father, I’ll see Commander Smith out,” you declared firmly, a desperate last attempt to find at least a moment of privacy with him. A minute or two in the hallway, out of your parents’ sight, should be enough to steal a kiss from those sweet, indulgent lips.

“I will do it-” your father began, but your mother’s voice was quick to cut through his words.

“How come? Remember Doctor Spiegel said that people your age should be regular with their sleep schedule,” she declared, her tone unwavering yet playful, and with a final glance at you, she led your father upstairs.

“People my age?” You heard your father question, his voice, as well as their retreating footsteps, a fading echo in the now perfectly quiet house.

The Commander turned to you, his eyes holding a silent farewell. You offered a small, resigned smile in return, your hand reaching for his face as if by force of habit.

“Do you really have to go?” You asked, your thumb tracing the bristly skin of his chin. It was selfish, you knew, wanting to take even more of his time, to demand even more of his attention, and yet...

“First Lord Koch, then Lady Angelika, then my father…” you sighed, watching your fingers play with the collar of his shirt. “It seems everyone gets to have a moment with you today, except for me,” you said, your eyes meeting his as your lips uttered those last words.

He smiled, his eyes disagreeing with what you just said, yet regarding you with a tenderness that never failed to make you feel safe and protected.

“Princess-”

“I know I’m being selfish,” you confessed, putting on that same little smile you used when you were just a little girl, asking her parents for candy, “but I’d love to have you all to myself, even if just for a little while…” You paused to look up at him, your eyes crinkling in mischief, “do you think that would be possible…Commander Smith?”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as his hand reached for your face, running an indulging finger across your cheek.

“My lady,” he began, his voice low and intimate, “how could I say no to such a reasonable request?”

You smiled wider, excitement weaved into the little giggle you let escape, and linking your fingers with his, you led him back to the salon next door.

“Interesting piece,” he murmured as you walked through the doorway.

“Hmm?” You turned around, finding his gaze lost in the vibrant green fields of the painting above the fireplace, “oh, that. Mother fount it at a local fair,” you explained, guiding him to the couch, where you could share the warmth of the fireplace, “said it made her feel-”

“Free,” he echoed softly, his voice carrying a hint of longing.

You looked at him, his gaze still drawn to the painting in front of him. In the soft glow of the fireplace, his features were even sharper. His nose, in particular, was a work of art in and on itself, high and perfectly proportioned, the bridge prominent and the tip slightly downturned…

Goodness, he was so beautiful.

“Exactly,” you said softly, still admiring his profile, “Mother loved it at first sight. However, upon learning its true meaning, she deemed it too provocative for her taste.” You paused, your eyes momentarily shifting to the painting. “Life beyond the walls. That’s what the artist envisioned.”

His gaze returned to you, a silent question reflected in his eyes.

“Notice how there’s nothing on the horizon?” You explained, tracing the outline of the painting with your eyes. “No walls, no titans. Nothing but the bare blue sky.”

He nodded, his eyes following yours back to the canvas, where they decided to rest for the time being.

The room fell silent for a while, the only sound the gentle crackling of the fire in front of you, casting dancing shadows on the walls. You were mere inches apart, fingers interlaced, your body leaning into his, yet you could tell his mind was a world away, still lost in the imaginary realms of the painting. You stole another glance at him, and remembered about the earlier misunderstanding regarding Leon. Figuring this was the moment you had been praying for all evening, you opened your mouth to apologize.

“A provocative work of art, indeed.” He suddenly murmured, more to himself than to you, his expression still contemplative, his voice so deep and mellow, so husky and inviting… It was truly unfortunate that the object of his admiration was the painting, and not you.

Inside the dimly lit room, with the dying fire highlighting the sharp lines of his features in intimate shades of gold, and the delightful sight of his profile staring right ahead and not your way, you realized that the Leon matter could wait a little longer, because at the moment, you were incredibly tired of sharing his attention with the painting.

A quick glance at the lonely, sleepy corridors of the second floor sealed your decision. With your heart pounding in your chest, you took his hand and placed it on your thigh, where the thin tulle of your dress offered little resistance to his touch, your skin burning beneath his manly, calloused fingers.

His eyes, a piercing shade of blue, promptly returned to yours, a silent question lingering in their depths.

“Tell me, Commander Smith,” you started, your voice a whisper only he could hear, “and my dress?” You asked, his gaze lingering on your lips for a moment longer than necessary, “do you find it…provocative too?”

He looked down, his eyes resting on your thigh much like his hand was. And you could see the look of disapproval on his face, you too knew this was inappropriate. However, you could also see the battle raging within him, a silent war between reason and desire. You wouldn’t blame him if he pulled away, but you hoped the temptation was strong enough to make him stay.

Then, as if to help him make an informed decision, his fingers started tracing the delicate fabric of your dress, his thumb and forefinger studying it, feeling its texture, the warmth of his skin seeping through the tulle, burning the fine, very-easy-to-tear fabric.

“Very much, my lady,” he finally said, his voice a gift from the gods themselves, so low, so perfectly rough it caressed your skin in all the places you wished his fingers did. Under the intense scrutiny of his gaze, a strong wave of desire crashed between your legs, flooding your senses, soaking you entirely. And you wondered if he wanted it too. You wondered if he wanted to taste you, to feel you against him just as much as you did… And most of all, you wondered if he imagined tearing the dress from your body, just as much as you wanted him to.

“Distracting,” he murmured, his eyes tracing the lines of your body, lingering on your exposed shoulders and beauty bones, “a man can’t help but have dangerous thoughts when confronted with such a sight.” His fingers tightened around the fabric, your entire body trembling under his touch, the smell of burnt wood blending deliciously with his intoxicating cologne.

“What kind of dangerous thoughts, Commander Smith?” You dared to ask, your chest rising and falling in anticipation of all the promises his eyes were silently making to you.

A knowing smile played on his lips, and goodness, the things that smile could do to you. If only you could kiss it right now.

“The kind that are best not shared with a lady,” he replied, his palm, warm and firm, flat against your skin, “much less under her parents’ roof,” he said, his fingers sinking in the soft, tender flesh of your inner thigh, his grip gentle yet greedy, as to remind you that he could take you whenever he pleased.

It was not until you spoke again, and felt your breath warm against his lips, that you realized the proximity between your faces.

“Would you like to help me take it off?” You asked, the question dangerously tumbling out of your lips before you could stop it. As your heart pounded loudly in your ears, you realized the implications of your words. You hadn’t intended for it to go that far, yet you couldn’t say you were mad at yourself for that.

His eyes darkened, a dangerous glint flickering in their depths. “Very much,” he gave you his honest reply, his voice almost a growl, a raspy, delicious answer whispered against your lips. “However, circumstances dictate otherwise, and a man would be greedy to expect more from an already wonderful evening,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of regret.

“A man would be cruel, merciless even, to leave a lady in such distress,” you countered, breathing heavily against his lips, “all to herself…” You shifted in your place, pressing your thighs together, the need to touch yourself, an overwhelming desire.

“Tell me, Commander Smith,” you continued, your voice both a plea and a demand, “aren’t you going to kiss me before you leave?”

A storm of desire raged within his eyes, your question igniting a silent war inside him. From such proximity, you could see duty and honor trying to keep him from slipping, from making a dangerous mistake, from giving in to his most primal instincts… yet their efforts perhaps weren’t enough…

A dangerous smile took over his lips as he leaned in, his lips hovering a hair’s width away from yours. His hand rose to the nape of your neck, where his fingers, asserted a firm, possessive claim on you, securely tangled in your hair.

“Pretty princess,” he murmured, his voice a dangerous promise, his bottom lip menacingly brushing against yours.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of fear and anticipation. You wanted him to close the barely existent gap separating you, to claim you in that moment with a kiss. Yet, the thought of your parents returning filled you with dread. Should any of them come back down and see you like that… it would be the end of you. These were definitely not the activities their young, unmarried daughter should be engaged in this late into the night, much less under their own roof.

However, the man in front of you was too hard to resist. He was worth risking everything for.

And just like that, as temptation pulsated between your legs, you reached out, your fingers tracing the bristly line of his jaw as you brought his face impossibly close to yours.

When your lips finally met his, time seemed to stand still. Eyes closed, you brushed your bottom lip against his, a soft, tentative touch that was enough to make the world around you fade away, worries, fears, insecurities, and Marie Dok included. In that moment, when he held your bottom lip captive between his teeth, nothing else mattered but the connection between you. Every time your lips touched, you felt a sense of wholeness that was impossible to describe, as if it was only then that you were sound and complete.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you parted your lips, inviting him in, his tongue tracing delicate patterns inside your mouth, dancing against yours with a practiced skill. It was an area he knew very well, after all. And his hand, once gentle, now moved with a possessive urgency, tracing the contours of your body, roaming over your back, claiming the curves of your hips as his…

You moaned softly, your body arching against his as he deepened the kiss. And you felt him smile against your lips as you melted into him, your entire body trembling under his touch. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, the taste of his lips, the feel of his touch, the intoxicating aroma of his cologne- it was all you could focus on, your senses completely consumed as you surrendered to the intensity of the moment.

As you surrendered to him.

You held his face with both hands as he kissed you deeper and deeper, pleased, contented hums escaping your lips as you enjoyed the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. His hand, meanwhile, traveled back down to your inner thigh, where it decided to rest for the time being, his fingers warmly tucked between your legs, dangerously close to your silky, drenched underwear. You felt a surge of delight that threatened to consume you whole, your body aching with longing, aching for him. You shifted in your seat, a silent plea for him to continue, to take you further. Yet you knew he would never cross that line without your consent, much less in the middle of your parents’ salon. He was a gentleman, a man of honor. But you… you weren’t that self-possessed, and your mind was already racing with forbidden fantasies.

You wanted to climb onto his lap, to feel him closer, goodness he must be so hard right now. But the knowledge of your parents, sleeping just a few rooms away, held you back, a cold chain binding you to your place. You knew the risks. A glass of water, a cup of warm milk, a late night stroll to fight insomnia… They could return at any moment, and an encounter like that would ruin everything, everything you had built that afternoon.

“Commander Smith,” you whispered, gasping for air as you pulled away.

His grip on your hair tightened slightly, a silent protest against your words, “a little more, princess,” he commanded, his voice husky with desire and his breath warm against your lips.

You leaned into him, taking his bottom lip between yours to reassure him that you didn’t intend on stopping either.

“Upstairs,” you declared, your eyes extending a very inappropriate invitation. Your faces so close you were surviving on each other’s oxygen. “Come with me upstairs.”

A wave of guilt washed over you as you uttered those words. A part of you felt bad about how much your parents trusted you, and how eager you were to abuse that trust with what you were about to do. But an even bigger, better part of you couldn’t stop imagining the things he would do to you behind closed doors, once you took the matter upstairs to the safe, intimate walls of your childhood bedroom.

He stared at you with a puzzled look in his eyes, surprise as evident as the blue in them. As if he hadn’t heard you correctly, you leaned in again, your breath a warm caress against his ear. “Erwin,” you whispered his name softly against the sensitive skin, “please take me to my room,” your cheeks burned with a delightful blend of excitement and nervousness as you continued, “and once there…” you whispered, planting a feather-light kiss down the side of his neck, “make me yours.”

buy me a ko-fi☕️? ^^

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riotwritesthings · 8 months

Text

Unrequited Dreams

WinterIron, M, 3.5k - Soulmate AU, Angst, hopeful ending

I can finally share my piece from the Reforged WinterIron Zine! I'm so excited, I'd had the idea for this fic for years and it was delightful to finally bring it to life. And now I get to share!

Thank you to all the mods over at @reforgedzine for making this happen!

~~~

The night before his thirteenth birthday Bucky is so excited he can barely fall asleep, because he’s going to have his first dream about his soulmate.

The anticipation has been building for weeks, for years; his family has taken to fondly rolling their eyes because Bucky can't talk about anything else. He can’t wait to find out something, anything about his soulmate, about how they'll meet for the first time. He can't wait to start trying to make sense of the hazy details the dream will leave him with.

In the morning, Bucky wakes up sobbing, because now he knows that his soulmate is gorgeous and graceful. That knowledge is crystal clear even if few other details are.

And now, Bucky knows that he's going to put a gun in his soulmate's face and pull the trigger.

Thirteen year old Tony wakes up feeling cold and hollow except for a sharp ache settling deep in his chest.

Apparently, it was stupid to be excited, just like Howard always said. Because now he knows that their first meeting involves his soulmate pushing him away.

Literally.

Tony knows that dreams are funny things. He read all about soulmate dreams and how easy it is to misinterpret them, how they tend to exaggerate, back when he was dumb enough to look forward to them. But he would swear that the shove felt hard enough to knock the air from his lungs, felt strong enough to throw him clear across the room.

The ache in his chest lingers the entire day, and every morning that he wakes up from the same dream, the pain is agonizingly fresh, digging a little deeper.

So Tony grows up and learns how to push people away first. He tells himself that when he meets his soulmate, he’ll be ready.

Bucky never tells anyone about the dream, even when his parents give him concerned looks. Eventually people stop asking.

Every time he has the dream, Bucky remembers a little more. His soulmate is dressed in mostly black, moving gracefully and carelessly through a room in chaos. His soulmate has gorgeous eyes and a wicked, beautiful smirk.

Every time, Bucky shoots his soulmate in the face and wakes up nauseous.

At least when he joins the army, no one else talks about their dreams either. Most nights, Bucky is too exhausted to dream at all, and it’s almost a relief when nightmares start to overtake the few times that he does.

Most nights, Tony drinks until he falls into a short, restless sleep, just to avoid the one dream he doesn't want to have.

He doesn’t want to see his soulmate’s cold, emotionless eyes. He doesn’t want the all-too-brief feeling of his soulmate's hand beneath his own before he's shoved away.

When Tony does dream, it’s of clenched fists, feeling frustrated, helpless. Feeling like his entire life is falling apart around him, and it’s all so stupid.

So he refuses to figure out any other details because he’s already going to have to live through it at some point. He doesn't want to know if that fleeting contact of hand against hand is a first meeting, doesn’t bother trying to remember anything about the large, bright room the dream takes place in or the people around them. He doesn’t care if it's a charity gala or something else. None of it matters.

Tony wakes up and drinks more.

He builds and smiles for the press. He does his best to not lose the few people he has, and tells himself that he won’t care when his soulmate doesn’t want him.

Sometimes he even believes it.

The Winter Soldier doesn’t dream at all.

Not during the short, fitful sleep he gets on missions. Certainly not while he’s frozen.

He forgets.

When the moment finally happens in real life, they don’t recognize it.

Bucky isn't in his right mind. He’s barely clinging to awareness past the hold of the conditioning in a room in chaos. He doesn't recognize the graceful motions of the gorgeous man who jumps into the fight, or the moment he points his gun in the man's face.

The bullet doesn't connect, and when Tony doesn't die, the Winter Soldier rips his hand away from Tony’s, shoves him across the room and knocks the air out of his lungs.

Tony isn’t thinking about the brief contact of his hand on Barnes’ over the barrel of a gun, of Barnes’ hand splayed across his chest. He’s thinking about the fact that his life is falling apart, and that he needs to stop a rampaging Winter Soldier. He doesn’t have time to think about the splinter itching at the back of his mind.

They don’t even notice when they stop having the dreams, after that moment.

Tony is alone in his workshop, in the too-empty compound, when it hits him that he doesn’t even remember the last time he dreamt of his soulmate.

It’s not just because he barely sleeps, not just because when he does dream it’s of his friends falling from the sky, of cities and worlds crashing to the ground. He’s spent so much time trying to ignore the dream, apparently he’s even been ignoring the fact that it’s gone.

It’s a stupid thing to be upset about.

Tony has always known how they would feel about him, known they wouldn’t want anything to do with him, but he still has to sit on the cold tile floor as his legs give out. He blinks back tears, wondering how far he must have fallen, if he doesn’t even deserve a soulmate who pushes him away anymore, doesn’t deserve anyone.

He wonders if his soulmate dreams about someone else now.

Bucky is in Wakanda, trying to find peace, when a doctor asks about the dream.

For a second Bucky doesn’t remember. And then he does. And he can’t breathe.

He doesn’t dream much anymore. When he does, it’s always nightmares. He hasn’t dreamt of his soulmate since before the war.

Before the Soldier.

And Bucky realizes he’s probably already killed his soulmate, and doesn’t even remember it. Everything goes fuzzy.

No one asks about the dreams again. Bucky has so many regrets to move past, he just shoves this one down with all the others. His soulmate is probably long gone. There’s no need to think about it.

So, he tries not to.

Having everyone back at the compound is exactly as awkward-as-hell as Tony thought it would be. It only makes him feel a little better that he’s clearly not the only one feeling it.

The reasoning is sound, the threat is coming, but that doesn’t mean Tony has to be happy about it.

But he smiles, shakes hands when he has to, and reminds himself this is for the best. He can bury his hurt feelings for the good of the world. He can be an adult, pretend everything is fine. He shows everyone to the residential wing, despite most of them already knowing their way around, and doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he says to make themselves at home.

Slowly, they start putting the team back together. There’s lots of talks about trust and honesty that feel hollow and stilted, but Tony supposes it’s progress.

They still work well together in the field, but that was never the Avengers’ problem.

Around the compound, though, the split remains obvious. Everyone seems torn between walking on eggshells and the urge to act like nothing’s changed even though it has, Tony among them.

The different sides of the war still give each other wide berths in the hallways, and Steve still stands protectively between Tony and his shadow of a best friend when they happen to run into each other in the gym.

Tony spins on his heel with a lazy wave, doesn’t even care if he’s too obvious. For just a moment, Tony’s gaze meets Barnes’ as he turns.

For just that moment, Tony finds himself caught in that deep blue stare before the doors slide closed behind him.

Bucky spends a lot of time wandering the compound.

He’s aware everyone thinks it’s a paranoid-perimeter-check thing, which it partially is. But it's also just him enjoying the novelty that he can spend his time wandering aimlessly. He can go where he wants when he wants, never has to sleep unless he chooses to.

He’s still getting used to it; remembering how to enjoy the freedom.

Which is how he runs into Stark in the kitchen at three AM, when he’s trying to outrun his nightmares. Tony is apparently making pancakes.

Bucky freezes in the doorway as they stare at each other. Just when he’s preparing to back away, Stark’s lips curl into a tiny smile. Stark tips his head towards the rest of the kitchen, obviously inviting him to stay instead. Bucky grabs an apple and sits at his usual spot at the far end of the table, trying to look comfortable, and it’s somehow easier than he’s expecting.

It’s only a couple minutes before Stark finishes making and neatly stacking his pancakes on a plate. Then he dumps everything in the dishwasher and shoots Bucky only the briefest look before leaving with his plate of food.

Bucky tells himself to avoid the kitchen around that time. He should give Stark some space, because he’s so clearly uncomfortable with everyone being back.

But two sleepless nights later, Bucky’s feet carry him on a familiar path without thought.

Stark is making waffles this time. He barely even looks up as Bucky takes up the same space at the table. Stark glances at him again as he’s preparing to leave, at the power bar Bucky’s been picking at, then transfers one waffle to a smaller plate. He sets the small plate on the table, just within Bucky’s reach. Then to Bucky’s surprise, Stark sits at the counter instead of leaving.

Bucky pulls the plate closer, and they eat in total silence. They’re not even facing each other and Bucky is actually a little relieved. He doesn’t know what to say to anyone these days, much less Stark.

It’s the first time they’ve done more than pass in the hallways, but it’s not as uncomfortable as it should be. When Tony stands to leave with a wave and a small, warm smile, Bucky finds himself disappointed.

As the weeks go by, Tony notices Barnes getting more comfortable around the compound, sometimes with Steve but most often alone.

Not that Tony lets himself wonder why he cares, why he scrolls through security feeds of the hallways like he needs to check on Barnes. It’s just morale has been slowly improving, and that’s the last bridge Tony has to mend. Or, the last bridge to build from scratch over a giant chasm, in this case.

He’s coming back late from a charity event, a little tipsy with plans to head to the lab, but gets sidetracked when he passes through the living room and realizes Barnes is on the couch watching Star Trek. Tony pauses for a second, filled with nostalgia, but he tells himself to leave Barnes to his marathon in peace.

To his surprise, Barnes looks at him with a tiny smile, unsure but devoid of suspicion or impatience. Tony sinks into an armchair, asking himself why. They proceed to watch four and a half episodes in silence.

Tony wakes up to Steve and Sam clomping through after their morning run, slumped down in the chair with a blanket carefully draped over him.

It becomes a habit, and Barnes becomes Bucky, even if they haven’t actually spoken yet.

So maybe Tony has FRIDAY alert him when Bucky is queuing up the next episode so he can head to the living room. After the first time, though, Bucky waits for him to arrive before hitting play and greets him with a smile that gets brighter every time.

Tony doesn’t let himself wonder about the why’s. Like why he spends so much time simply existing in the same room as Bucky, why that doesn’t feel awkward at all. Or why it seems to be the only thing that helps Tony ignore the empty pit in his chest.

One night, Tony realizes he hasn’t seen Bucky in a while. There’s been no marathon nights despite being due to start Next Generation. He tells himself it’s not creepy to flip through security feeds., He’s just curious how Bucky is spending his sleepless nights now.

Tony’s heart leaps into his throat when he finally locates Bucky on the roof of the hanger, standing on the ledge. He’s breathless by the time he makes it to the hangar, heart racing and legs shaking from the sprint. He doesn’t even know what he thinks is happening, except…

Bucky looks at him with wide, exhausted eyes when Tony bursts through the door, and he could swear Bucky’s shoulders drop in relief. Tony doesn’t have time to think. He just starts talking, because Bucky looks so haunted, and Tony knows a thing or two about distractions.

They’re still on the roof when the sun comes up., And Bucky has to stop pointing out all the constellations he can remember while Tony fills him in on the new star science he’s missed.

After the roof, something shifts.

Bucky can’t put his finger on exactly what it is, or even when it happens. But that one stilted conversation about the stars becomes less stilted conversations about whatever’s on TV becomes friendly debates about the merits of different toppings as they make pizza at midnight.

Before Bucky knows it, he feels like he’s home.

He finds a groove with his new life and starts branching out, starts connecting with the rest of the team. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be a person. To actually interact when he passes people in the hallway and eat with a group.

To be more than a ghost, to be part of something good.

Always though, he gravitates back to Tony. Because Tony actually makes him laugh and it fills a void in his chest Bucky has long gotten used to. Because Tony is always trying to do better and god Bucky wants to learn how.

Because when Tony’s been on an inventing binge, Bucky can trick him into taking a nap by putting on home improvement shows, and it makes Bucky feel like he’s doing something right. The team smirks when they walk in on Tony drooling on his shoulder, but it’s not like that.

He recognizes the look Steve and Natasha start to give him, smug and knowing. And fine, maybe Tony would have been exactly his type, before. But it’s not like that.

Because Bucky is the man who killed his soulmate. He doesn’t let himself think about that kind of thing.

When Bucky decides that he wants to officially join the Avengers, Tony leaps at the chance to make him new gear.

He does the same for the entire team, after all, making sure everyone’s safe. It doesn’t make Bucky special. No matter what the wide grins from Rhodey try to imply.

Tony just loves a challenge, loves the excuse to build something new. So maybe he gets more input from Bucky than anyone else, offers to help Bucky test all the gear on top of team training, but it’s not an excuse to spend more time together. He just sees what Bucky is trying to do, and he’s all too familiar with that struggle.

Despite the knowing looks from everyone, it doesn’t mean anything that he lets Bucky into the lab to see the prototypes, even if it is Tony’s only place of solitude in the compound. Even if eventually Bucky just hangs out there with him for hours.

Tony keeps telling himself it means nothing.

Watching Bucky try to teach DUM-E checkers is the final straw, though. Warmth fills Tony’s chest so fast and hard that he can’t breathe around it. And he finally admits that maybe it all means something.

But Tony is the man who doesn’t deserve a soulmate, who never even got to meet them. Who’s not sure he’d want to meet them anymore, as guilty as it makes him feel.

Maybe he can’t lie to himself anymore. Maybe he’s completely in love, but Tony knows better than to say anything.

Days spent in the lab with Tony run together in the best possible way. It’s a blur of playing with the bots, watching Tony create the future, and trying to convince him maybe the new reboots of Star Trek do have something to offer.

Bucky knows what a privilege it is to be here, to see Tony at his most relaxed and occasionally unhinged. He tries not to let it go to his head, give him ideas, even though every day he falls more in love. He’s even getting used to the pangs of guilt over the soulmate he should miss.

Until one day they’re watching a movie on the lumpy couch in Tony’s lab. When it’s revealed that Tony called the plot twist from the very beginning, he smirks at Bucky at just the right angle.

Bucky’s heart drops into the floor.

He knows that smirk. He’s seen it a thousand times in a thousand dreams, even if he hasn’t had it in years, he remembers.

And of course it’s Tony, who’s smart and gorgeous, graceful and just the right amount of wicked. Who Bucky already loves so much he can’t breathe sometimes.

Tony, who he still can’t possibly deserve.

So Bucky says nothing, as happy as he thinks he’ll ever be. Tony is here, alive. Bucky’s soulmate is too smart and too tough to die. Bucky gets to watch the way he laughs when their friends do something stupid, to watch Tony’s back in fights while they both try to do better.

He’ll never get to taste the edges of Tony’s smile, but he shoves that aside. Tony is alive. That’s more than enough.

Tony’s first thought when he wakes half-buried under rubble is that he’s officially over alien invasions. The second is that the power of the suit fading in and out, causing the concerned shouting over the comms to cut in and out, is really not helping with his throbbing head.

The aliens swarm into what’s left of the nightclub, stealing his attention before Tony can work up the breath to answer, and all the suit’s questionable power has to go to blasting the ones that get too close. The oversized bug-like soldiers just keep coming, and Tony starts to wonder if he’d be better off ditching the deadweight of the armor.

But he’s not sure he can make a run for it. His head is spinning and he’s dimly aware of blood filling the suit, and the aliens are still coming—

There’s a roar of approaching gunfire and then Bucky is bursting into the destroyed building, wielding a large knife and the only gun Tony has built in years.

And the thing is…Tony knows those movements.

He knows that brutal fighting style, the blank rage in those blue eyes. He recognizes the wrath of the Winter Soldier. He’d been dreaming of it most of his life.

Tony can’t believe he never put it together before, because of course it’s Bucky. Resilient and brave and so kind, Bucky who still deserves so much better than Tony. Of course.

Maybe it’s just easier to recognize him with unconsciousness trying to drag Tony under. Maybe Tony’s already dreaming.

He must be, because suddenly Bucky is leaning over him. His eyes are warm, and scared. Tony doesn’t know this part of the dream, doesn’t know what happens next.

Everything is going black. Tony struggles to find his words, to plead. To beg not to be shoved away again.

Bucky sits unmoving beside Tony’s hospital bed for three days, even though all he wants to do is run.

He saw the recognition in Tony’s eyes, he knows that Tony knows. He wants to leave before Tony asks him to, because what else could Tony want from a soulmate like him?

But that’s not what Tony had said. Tony asked him to stay while sounding so scared, so resigned. Like he knew Bucky wouldn’t and it was already breaking his heart.

So, Bucky stays.

He’s staring at his fists, trying to stop himself from wondering, when the heart monitor starts beeping triple time, giving away that Tony is awake. Bucky jerks his gaze up to meet Tony’s big brown eyes, watches the flashes of fear and hope that go through them.

Bucky knows he must look terrible, hasn’t slept or shaved in days. He’s barely eaten, and he can feel the lines of worry set into his face. But Tony’s still looking at him with something like awe, just because he’s here.

When Tony smiles nervously the wave of hope that crashes over Bucky nearly overwhelms him, could crush him beneath it.

Bucky smiles back.

#my fic #winteriron #starkbucks #bucky/tony #bringing angst to the soulmate party #IM SO EXCITE TO SHAREEEEE

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i-am-a-l0st-gh0st · 6 months

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Secrets I have held in my heart- Lyney x Gn!reader- Part 2

Are harder to hide than I thought t/w- Angst comfort, dancing in the rain, fluffy lyney and girl boss Lynette Summary- Hear me out... The reader is lyneys friend in Fontaine who secretly has a massive crush on lyney, thinking those feelings are one-sided hence not telling him. They went to lyneys show, but then lyney took an audience member - a beautiful woman - for a trick which involved a little dance motion. That made the readers heart crush, as they sat in the dark audience seat with tears falling down from their eyes - their mind telling them they'll never ever be in place of that woman.Gn reader please!!! A/n- I maybe wanted to start doing Honkai Star rail Oneshots too! Would you guys enjoy that??

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Taglist form!

Part 1!

Lynette pov

Y/n walked out the performance mid way through. It was unlike them to do that, usually they sat and watched all of his tricks no matter how cheesy. I turned to face lyney, he was basically flirting with the girl on stage. About a week ago he had comfessed to me his love for y/n and y/n had done the same. Both thought it was one sided. Freminent and I are the only ones who knows. It kills us both to watch them be so oblivious.

The show continues as normal and Lyney and I finish with a bow as he throws flowers into the crowd. He has everyone fauning over him, girls, boys and everyone in between. I just don't think he realises how much he likes y/n and how much they like him back.

"Well I'd say that show was pretty successful wouldn't you Lynette?"

"Well yes, apart from the fact y/n walked out mid performance."

"They walked out? I-i didn't notice?"

"You were to busy flirting with that lady on stage."

"How could I be so stupid."

"I don't know. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to make tea."

Y/n pov

You wrapped your jacket tighter around you, the rain and wind were equally unforgiving. Maybe you should just get up and go? What were you doing waiting here? Were you hoping that Lyney would come out and find you? That he would come and hug you? That he would tell you how much he loved you?

It was useless. Of course he didn't love you back. You felt angry at him. He had flirted with you so much to the point that you'd actually fallen for him, and when he found out he was going to throw you away.

The suddenly stopped, well above you atleast. "Would you happen to be needing one of these. You might freeze to death if you keep sitting here in the rain."

"Go away Lyney."

He seemed taken aback at your words, and his usual flirty tone stopped. "Y/n what's wrong? You can talk to me you know."

"Not about this Lyney."

"You know I'm going to get it out for you eventually."

Maybe it was just the rain dripping down your face but something tickled your cheek. He gently reached out his hand almost like picking up an Injured bird. He wiped away your tears and slightly smiled.

"Come on don't cry. What's there to cry about?" He grabbed both your hands. "Come dance with me."

"You know I can't dance Lyney."

"And? I can teach you."

Despite the cold nipping at you, you started to feel warm. He dragged you out from the cover of the umbrella. Lyney placed one hand on your waist and the other leading your hand to his shoulders. Your hands were interlocked and you could feel yourself getting warmer by the second.

"Now just follow my steps. Can you do that?"

"Yeah."

He moved so gracefully, just like on stage. Except he seemed more genuine. The smile on his face was so.... Handome. You felt your heart skip a beat. It wasn't fair that he could make you feel like this from just smiling.

You pulled away quickly not wanting to even look at him anymore. He looked like a sad, damp puppy.

"Please tell me. I hate seeing you like this."

"Well I hate seeing you flirt with every person you-" You stopped because you realised what you said.

"Your jealous?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"You are oblivious aren't you Lyney." Lynette was standing against a pole with he tea in hand.

"What are you taking about Lynette?"

She sighed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You both like each other."

You could see his face turn a bright red as he turned to face you. "You like me y/n?"

"I-i do."

"See there you both go." Lynette said.

He ran quickly towards you and embraced you in the tightest hug and his whispered in your ear. "And you never told me..."

"I thought you didn't like me."

"What gave you that impression?"

"You flirt with alot of people."

"Well...yeah I do but I only had eyes for you." He thought for a bit longer before saying, "May I kiss you."

"You may."

So he did.

Taglist

@pandragonsoul, @atsukawolfcat

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 28 days

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Astrid x Lena - Autumn/Fall

I am listening to my fave fall/witchy playlist on spotify, and now I'm thinking about how Astrid might handle Lena discovering her witchy heritage.

It makes most sense to me that somewhere in the crisis era, Lena and Astrid dated but broke up (amicably) and are friendly but no longer together. They keep in touch, but their work keeps them from actually seeing each other post crisis.

Until post finale, when they bump into each other on the streets of Metropolis. Astrid is in town on business, and Lena is there for meetings in relation to her charitable foundation (or maybe finalizing her relinquishing/dissolving LuthorCorp). Except its technically Saturday, so while Astrid is her usual 5-star self, Lena is a little more... basic bitch-- comfy sneakers, cozy sweater, hair loose in its now customary waves. No red lipstick, no pencil skirt, no jimmy choos.

Astrid barely recognizes her, and in fact doesn't until Lena chirps a breathless "Oh! Astrid!"

At which point Astrid blinks, and the image of this pumpkin spice latte drinker resolves into Lena. To say she's surprised is an understatement.

"Lena??" Astrid scans her as she leans into a hug that is absolutely genuine, but turns into concern as she pulls back but doesn't release her grip on her ex-girlfriend's shoulders. "Is everything okay?"

"What? Yeah! Of course it is!" Lena's confusion is mitigated by the joy seeing Astrid after so long. "Better now, though! It's so great to see you!"

Now, Astrid is polite, but she also knows Lena, and cares about her. So she pushes just a little, to get some more information.

"You look... different," she says judiciously.

Only then does it click for Lena. She glances down at herself, then flushes sheepishly. "Oh. Yeah, ah... well. I've had a change in... circumstances?"

Astrid frowns. "Lena, you know you never have to ask for help from me, ever."

"Oh! No-- the money is still there. It's nothing like that." Lena huffs a little awkwardly, knowing how confusing she sounds. In the end, all she can really say is:

"Everything is fine. I promise. Better than fine." She gestures to the relatively uncharacteristic image of herself with a giggle. "This is deliberate, I promise."

Astrid still isn't sure what's going on, but Lena's responses contain no guile, and she's satisfied that, if nothing else, Lena is happy.

"Hey, uhm... would you-- want to catch up?" Lena asks nervously. "Tonight? Only if you have time--"

"I would love to," Astrid cuts her off gracefully, earnestly. She smiles. "I would love to. Ernesto's?"

Lena flashes her a demure smile. "You still remember my favorite..."

"Our favorite," Astrid reminds her. Oh, she knows what she's implying, and she's pleased that Lena doesn't push away from it. If anything, she leans towards it.

"Right. Our favorite." Her gaze heats when it meets Astrid's. "Our usual table then?"

"I shall accept no other," Astrid teases.

Lena giggles. "Okay, good. I'll see you at 7."

Their usual time.

"I look forward to it," Astrid promises.

As they part ways for the afternoon, Astrid can't help but pause and glance at Lena's departing form as it disappears amid the crowded street.

Even aside from the wardrobe change, Lena is different. She's always been confident, but now, it seems less... projected. Less a screen erected as a front and more... true. A settling into her own skin.

She sees that same quiet confidence at the restaurant later that night. Lena has exchanged her doc martens and knitted scarf for a silky gown that makes Astrid's mouth go dry, but it's the softness at her edges that truly catches Astrid's eye.

Where Lena once shone brilliantly, a sun to bright to look at directly, this Lena simply glows, an ember sitting warm and happy on the hearth.

During appetizers Astrid learns that Lena spent the day scouring the city for a book. A very specific book, it would seem. Rare and mysterious, if the way Lena repeatedly seems to stop herself short just before she begins to explain its nature or purpose in any greater detail.

It happens more than once, and beyond the search for the book as well. Certainly enough to pique Astrid's interest.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

Lena's question surprises Astrid. There's no edge to it, no judgement or resentment. Just open curiosity and the warmth of being ready to accept anyone who makes Astrid happy.

"No," Astrid returns truthfully. "I'm not."

Others in her social sphere usually react with sad deprecation-- Astrid is basically a spinster of a divorcee at this point. But Lena's eyes simply warm as her smile deepens.

"Then maybe I should count myself lucky," Lena murmurs, voice as silky as her dress.

Astrid returns the smile, reaching across the table to tangle her fingers with Lena's.

"Perhaps we're both lucky."

But when they head back to Astrid's hotel suite with one thing in mind... Astrid's attention can't help to wonder about the damn book. She should be halfway out of her mind with delirious delight, the way Lena is tracing patterns on Astrid's skin and the way Lena herself sits on Astrid's bare lap in nothing but her lace bra and panties.

But the mystery of their conversation early tugs too insistently at the back of Astrid's mind, and she pulls gently away, lifting her hands to cup Lena's cheeks in her palms.

"Lena, darling... what aren't you telling me?"

Lena freezes, a deer caught in the headlights. She moves rise, but Astrid tugs her back down.

"All night, you've been so enthusiastic, but just before you share the what and the why of what makes you happy, you stop yourself. Why?"

Lena swallows audibly. "I don't know if I have a good answer that won't scare you away."

Astrid scoffs. "Scare me...? Lena-- you are magic to me. You always have been. And if you think anything you can tell me will drive me off, then... you don't know me very well."

Lena tilts her head with a plaintive smile. "I'm afraid it may be the opposite. I'm... different. From the Lena you knew before."

Astrid leans forward to kiss her. The touch is sweet and soft and lingering.

"Then tell me," Astrid urges. "So I can learn to love you all over again."

Lena's nervous smile turns hopeful. Astrid watches the warring thoughts behind her lover's eyes, and sits waiting in the hopes the doubts would quiet enough for her to learn whatever new truths Lena may share.

In the end, she's rewarded with a soft sigh. "Okay," Lena breathes. "Just know that it's complicated, and I'm still figuring it out myself."

"Oh, god," Astrid groans. "Please don't tell me you've been straight all along..."

The comment pops Lena out of her nerves. She barks a laugh, giving Astrid's bare thight a light smack.

"No," Lena chuckles. "Nothing like that. But...."

Astrid nibbles at the hook. "But...?"

Lena smiles.

"It's funny that you mentioned magic."

#lena x astrid #autumn fall #almost lena's witch reveal #we'll go back to pre witchy lena as well #but this is whats cooking due to music reasons #blame the playlist

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midnightsun-if · 1 year

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Midnight Sun ROs

I apologize for not publishing this sooner, I’ve been meaning to but kept spacing about it. I know some of you have been curious, so I hope this helps with that!

ROs Parents

Koda Kingston

Appearance: Whiskey brown eyes, that are consistently filled with an abundance of warmth, offsets the medium brown tone of his skin. Fawn brown hair falls to his jawline in unruly waves. He has a muscular physique, reminiscent of a lumberjack, but he’s a big ball of fluff.

Outfit Aesthetic: He doesn’t have one singular outfit type that he wears— as he’ll try anything once. However, he does like wearing flannels over a tank top; being a bear-shifter he naturally runs a little warmer than the average supernatural.

Bear Form: Koda shifts into a Kodiak Bear— a hulking mass of pure muscle and strength (who enjoys getting scratched underneath the chin).

Scarlett Voltaire

Appearance: Dark auburn locks fall to her hips in a mixture of waves and soft curls, offsetting the fairness of her skin. Vibrant green eyes, that don’t seem real at times, are framed by dark lashes, complementing the elegant structure of her face. She has a gracefully lithe physique.

Outfit Aesthetic: Dresses of various types are something you can commonly see her wearing— usually with a pair of killer heels to match— in her signature colors of red, black, or midnight purple. Or a lace corset top paired with tailored pants (and heels).

A Notable Feature: Has a faint English accent.

Cyrus/Cyra Aurelia

Appearance: Lightly tanned skin brings out the vibrancy of their golden-red eyes; eyes that become more red, or gold, depending on their mood. Cyrus keeps his straight hair styled neatly, the platinum blonde strands kept short. Cyra, on the other hand, keeps hers to just past her shoulders. They have a delicately boned body, that hums with strength.

Outfit Aesthetic: As a member of House Aurelia, and the prospective ruler of the Eclipse Throne, they’re never seen in anything except their best. Tailored pants, perfectly ironed dress shirts, and knee high leather boots are things you can commonly see them wearing.

Phoenix Form: They don’t shift often— the spectacle of seeing a flaming bird hasn’t worn off for many people, even if they’ve seen it countless times before. With feathers that shift effortlessly from solid red, to a gentle orange, into blazing gold, they’re quite large for a typical Phoenix— gold talons sharper than any knife.

Quinn Grant

Appearance: Sapphire blue eyes stand out against their olive-toned complexion; filled with a cunning intelligence. M!Quinn keeps his dark brown hair short, only slightly showcasing the natural curls of it. F!Quinn keeps hers to just over her shoulders. They have an athletic physique.

Outfit Aesthetic: Dark Academia is the closest I could come to describe it.

Wolf Form: A massive, bi-pedal entity, their lupine form is a perfect mixture of strength and speed. With a coat of dark brown fur, intelligent sapphire eyes, and razor sharp claws, complementing sharp teeth, they’re quite intimidating.

Caden Randall

Appearance: Warm-beige skin has a deathly pallor that seems to hang around them; an aura that will never leave. Silver eyes, reminiscent of pale moonlight, bring out the inky blackness of their curly hair. M!Caden keeps his to just above his ears. F!Caden keeps hers to just below her jawline. They have a slender/lanky physique.

Outfit Aesthetic: They’re usually in uniform— an ironed black, button-down with slacks and sensible shoes. However, when they’re off-duty, they typically bundle up in various layers; being a phantom leaves them with a permanent chill that they to try to fight back against.

A Notable Feature: Has a beauty mark near their upper lip on the left side.

Sloane Addams

Appearance: Their eyes are a mixture of the softest brown, the sharpest green, and a fiery gold. Golden-brown hair, that always seems to have a tousled quality to it, falls to just beneath their jawline, complementing the light brown tone of their skin. They have a lean body type.

Outfit Aesthetic: Graphic shirts, typically a band-tee of some sort, ripped jeans, and either Vans or Converse shoes— a worn leather jacket, that’s clearly been well taken care of, completes the look.

Wolf Form: Taking on the form of a large wolf— they’ve always hated that their lupine form is just another instance of them being different. Their fur, that’s more golden than brown in this form, complements the ever-changing colors of their gaze; built for speed and agility over brute strength.

A Notable Feature: Has a tattoo sleeve of lilies on their right arm.

Blake Herrera

Appearance: Violet eyes, inherited from their other parent, brings out the tanned complexion of their skin. Wavy, ash blonde hair complements the angular structure of their face. M!Blake has his hair to just over his ears, always casually messy. F!Blake has hers to just beneath her shoulder blades. They have a toned physique.

Outfit Aesthetic: M!Blake typically wears silk shirts with the top few buttons undone, with either dark skinny jeans or tailored slacks, and dress shoes. F!Blake typically wears off-shoulder silk dresses and heels.

Reginald/Regina Presley

Appearance: With blue-green eyes, that are reminiscent of a turbulent sea, allowing for their light brown hair to be perfectly complemented. Their warm-ivory complexion brings out the faint gold highlights within each strand. Reggie keeps his hair short. Gina keeps hers to her shoulders. They have a lean, leaning more towards slender, physique.

Outfit Aesthetic: Oversized sweatshirts and comfortable pants are their go to. Something that they wouldn’t mind staying in for long hours of studying or practice.

A Notable Feature: Has a faint scar through their lip. (Think Lana Parrilla.)

#midnight sun #ro: blake herrera #ro: c aurelia #ro: caden randall #ro: koda kingston #ro: quinn grant #ro: r presley #ro: sloane addams #ro: scarlett voltaire

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marvellous1917 · 7 months

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Your mob!bucky is so sexyyyy, I neeeddd him in my life! Can I get the letter U for both alphabets pleeaasseee?

Thank you love!

Of course you can, here ya are 😘

U is unfair (does he tease a lot?) OR ugly (a bad habit he has)

——

My Icarus! bucky is the king of all teasers!

“Bucky please!” You almost yell with despair, looking down at him as he raises his head from between your thighs, chin and mouth soaked.

“Please what doll? C’mon use your words for me huh” he responds with a panty dropping (they already did) smirk.

“Pl- please let me cum Buck, I need it..” you huff, dropping your head down on your pillow.

“You don’t like what I’m doing baby? Okay maybe I should stop,” he starts to move from his position.

“No! No Buck please please don’t stop,” you whine, grabbing at his hair to get him back where you need him.

“You’re gonna be good for me baby, stop your whining and let me get back to my fun… aren’t ya?” He asks, grabbing both your wrists and pinning them to your sides to stop your wandering hands.

“Ye..yeah yes sir. Please,” you answers, lifting your hips to try and get him back where you need him.

“That’s my good girl,” he says, nosing at you, sending shivers down your spine.

(He spends the next hour eating you out and refuses to let you come until he’s finished having his fun)

——

Hehe 😈

——

Icarus!Bucky has a number of bad habits, number 1 being the fact when he gets angry, his anger turns violent quick, too quick.

“Who the fuck took out that shipment?! We had all our bases covered!” Bucky shouts, not speaking to anyone specific man in his office.

“It wasn’t any law enforcement, we would have all been arrested by now-” Tony states, the bastard lounging all over his couch.

“Yeah and it wasn’t Rumlow or we would have heard from him by now too-” Peter chimes in before being cut off by Steve,

“And it definitely wasn’t any of the other wannabes we know about, none of them have the power for that.” He says, rubbing his forehead, looking up at Bucky with a grimace.

“So, to sum up we don’t know,” finishes off Sam.

That is not good, not good at all. This shipment contained a large amount of firearms that Barnes had already promised to sell to the highest bidder. The loss of this shipment just cost him over $ 2.5 million.

“FUCK!” The shattering of the glass echos in his office, all his men falling silent at the sight. He looks down at his flesh hand, the wounds created by his action were kept open by small pieces of glass.

“…Boss-” starts Wilson, stepping closer to Bucky.

“I wouldn’t..” Steve warns Sam from his place on the arm of the couch, but lord knows the man never listens.

The second Sam lays his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, he spins and clocks Sam straight in the jaw, sending the shorter man straight to sleep.

Everyone freezes, except Clint, who gracefully catches the falling man before he hits the ground.

“GET OUT, OUT OF MY SIGHT, ALL OF YOU!” He roars, not even looking at his men as they leave, Scott grabbing Sams feet to help Clint take him out.

“Buck-”, Steve starts.

“OUT,” he yells again, starting to feel some of the pain in his hand.

Steve closes the door behind him, and Bucky collapses onto his desk chair, pulling the top drawer open and grabbing the small fist aid kit he kept in there since the dumbass named Lang shot himself.

There ya go babes hope you enjoy!

#mob!bucky x tattoo artist!reader #mob!bucky fic #mob!bucky barnes x reader

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arsonlookers · 5 months

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[NO]

I look in front of me a blue screen floating in my face I reach out my hand and as I watch my hands go through the screen I reach out to the man I was supposed to marry. in front of me stood the most handsome man, my husband-to-be, the love of my life for eternity.

I smiled sadly feeling his skin against mine, I looked into his molten golden eyes, closing my eyes and slowly closing the space between us, and kissed him one last time as I felt my tears fall one after the other.

' I wanted this to last ' I thought tears slipped in my cheeks

Another minute passed as I moved away from the love of my life "But I know our eternity is just for a moment...my dragon.." I sadly smiled as I grabbed his white wedding coat and sobbed on his shoulder.

I feel guilt, agony, pain, and heartache as if my heart is being torn into a million pieces.

slowly... I slowly let go of his coat and slowly but surely slip down on the ground and cry my heart out.

A pain I can't ever bear and handle anymore, a pain I can't imagine how I can ever move on. "Zhongli... sobs* .. Zhon- My Zhongli sob*" I can't hold my voice anymore as I call his name repeatedly "My be-beloved *sobs* Dragon *sob... Zhongli"

As if waiting for a response, remembering how he always comes to comfort me and never fails to calm me down but I know it will never come. I know he will not comfort me now... and ever... For this will be the last.

"sobs* Zhongli Sobs* " I repeatedly call his name, waiting for a miracle to happen as I sit on the ground helplessly. Hands shaking, tears falling, my heart kept beating painfully wanting to just be ripped apart, my mind blank just kept repeating his name, wanting his warmth, wanting to hear his voice once again, wanting his arms around my body, wanting how I braid his hair, keeps repeating our memories that hold precious years and time together.

Remember how his concerned voice keeps repeating inside my mind, how he laughs, how he once was angry because I nearly died, how I heard him cry my name with a painful tone in it, if others were to listen to his cry they would think he is dying. Remember how warm he always is, never fails to share it with me every night, every cold day, every I need it, every century. He never fails to his promises since that day.

"sobs* sob* "Everything is a blur, except the blue screen.

Looking at it sadly "Just give me another minute ...please.." I begged, I pleaded with the sky above, to give me time, to just give me time to look at him one last time, to at least say one last goodbye.

I unstably, knees shaking and struggling to stand up, I grabbed his white coat for assistance.

Both hands on his shoulders ..... feeling sad again remembering how he used to put both my hands on his shoulders and his hands on my hips for a slow dance.

I put my head on his shoulders and hums the tone he always used every time we danced together, beside the lake, with a beautiful view around us. I remember the special place, the way he gracefully moved and led the dance, how tight his grip on my hips was, how I used to lovingly look at him wishing for things to last... for time to freeze.

I hum until the very end of the song. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly to the point of smelling his hair, how good he always smells around, how it makes me calm, and loves the moment he is close to me.

I hug him for the last time whispering one last goodbye "I love you now and forever my beloved dragon, Morax, Rex lapis, My Zhongli, the love of my life... you will ...FOREVER shine in my memories" I smile and one last tear falls down my cheek.

"Goodbye my love"

clicking the NO on the screen

Slowly everything starts to fade... Zhongli starts to fade out...

until everything is blacked out.

As I opened my eyes I was greeted inside a familiar cold room

"I'm back" I mutter under my breath

Uncontrolled Tears fall down,

Already missing him in my arms, missing his features, missing his warmth...

"sob* zhongli" I uncontrollably keeps banging the floor

"Zhongli.. I'm sorry sob* ..."

That night You spend your whole night crying and repeating his name, remembering your memories together, and hugging yourself to sleep on the cold floor beside the game machine.

Days passed You spent a whole week getting yourself used to the cold room you once called "Home" but you know where your real Home is... and it is never this unbearable cold room.

..It is never in this world... You will never feel at home ever again.

[ ENDING 02 ]

Hmm ~ would you like to know the secret ending?

you look sad:<

a/n: Continuation of IMAGINE

thank you for reading

#zhongli x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanart #zhongli agnst #zhongli #rex lapis #zhongli genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact #genshin imagines #morax x reader #genshin morax #genshin fanfic #genshin fandom #fem reader #x reader #reader insert #zhongli x you #huhuhuhuhuhuhuhu:<

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writingsofwesteros · 2 years

Note

Hello! Could you do the Modern Rockstar!Daemon AU where criston maybe tries to fuck the reader but Daemon intervenes and gets super possessive and feral? I want rockstar Daemon going - "everyone can watch but nobody touches the reader except me".

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

“I did not think I would see you at a place like this.” A familiar voice that had your eyes beginning to flutter open. The cold wall behind you hardly had you shivering like Criston did and for all the wrong reasons. “I did not think you would be so away from home.” You whispered out, trying to mask your shock.

“I could say the same about you.” You fought against rolling your eyes as he spoke with that near arrogance he always seemed to have. You nearly began to look for Alicent who was seemingly never too far. Thankfully, it seemed he was alone, which began to stir slight uncomfortableness inside you.

“Why are you here?” You softly asked as you fought against the rising heartbeat that was pounding in your ears. You had not realised how close he had become as he stepped even closer. “I can not come and visit you?” Criston hummed as your hands moved behind you now and you began to play with them.

“It is a bit far for you.” You commented with a raised perfect eyebrow as your eyes locked onto him. “And yourself, but that seems to not bother you anymore.” Criston continued with a roll of his eyes. “My outings are no concern of yours.” You finally spoke and gracefully moved to turn away from him.

You were only able to get a few steps away from him when Criston’s hand reached for your own and grabbed you. “Cole, let go of me.” You snarled over your shoulder whilst his hold on you only tightened. A soft gasp escaped you when he had you against the cold brick wall behind you.

For a moment you could only stare and watch as his already dark eyes darkened even more with something you could not describe. “Cole.. “ You began to repeat yourself as you fought the slight fear moving through you. A soft gasp escaped you when he only stepped closer; cornering you.

“You were supposed to be mine.” The confusing words began to fall from his lips now as you only stared. “You are talking nonsense.” You tried to fight back and began to wiggle in his hold on you. Your hand moved onto his chest as his hand slowly moved into your hair; and bunched some locks together.

“Cole..back off!” You tried to push him away but his face was only leaning closer; his hold only tightening. A whimper escaped you and you knew there would be a bruise there in the morning. A sharp cry escaped you as your head connected with the wall as he pushed you. He did it again.

Your eyesight began to haze over as you whimpered some more. Your hands moved to his chest once more and pushed. This time; Cole did move and he fell onto the harsh, cold floor beneath him. You became dizzy in that short time as you slowly tried to steady yourself up right as you used the wall.

You could hear movement around you once more before the sounds of punches came over you. Your vision began to clear now. “Daemon…” You softly whispered out at the sight of the flash of blonde. It was all becoming even more clear now as you watched the punches reign down on Criston.

You slowly stepped forward; having gathered your bearings as you reached for him but he was too strong. “Daemon…you should stop.” You whispered out; fearful of anything witnessing the act. You tugged on his arm once more and thankfully he followed and moved to his feet. His hand was bleeding.

“I should fucking kill him.” Daemon practically snarled and you knew it was so wrong to feel a rush of desire. “No..don’t…” You whispered into his ear as his hold on you only tightened. Those bright eyes of his began to move over your body; protectively checking you over. His chest was still moving with his harsh breathing.

“You show her off to the world; surely you saw this coming?” Criston stuttered out towards the musician. Daemon landed a kick to his side and then another for equal measure. “Everyone can watch but she is mine.” He snarled. “Daemon..lets go..” You softly whispered out; tugging on his arm once more,

“He’s not worth it.” You whispered out as Daemon gently cupped your face; his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You are worth it.” Daemon whispered and before you knew it; his lips were on yours. You moaned into the act; already hot and bothered from the action just before you as your arms looped around his neck.

Your fingers brushed through his locks as the kiss deepened in passion; your tongue moving over his bottom lip. He gently pushed you against the wall now; his hand allowed your head to rest against it. You wrapped your legs around him as your soft moans were muted by his lips on you.

His hands roamed your body as the desire between the two of you only grew as quickly as ever. “Let's go home.” Daemon whispered into your ear. Your body hummed as you completely melted on his side. His hand was soon in your own as you looked over your shoulder once more to see a bloody looking Criston struggling to his feet.

Daemon’s arm was placed on your shoulder as he kept you impossibly closer. His adrenaline is still pumping. He leaned in and gently pressed a soft kiss to your neck as he brought you towards his car. “Are you sure you are fine?” Daemon couldn’t help but ask as his fingers ran through your locks.

“Of course…my knight in shining armour.” You hummed up at him, brushing your noses together. “Always.” He promised; his hands moving up and down your sides now as you leaned in and lovingly captured his lips. The act soon became more passionate as you lost yourself in the moment.

He rested his head on your own with his eyes fluttering shut. His heart is beginning to slow down now. Your hand moved onto his chest as you softly stroked him; the world falling away. Your tongues met and danced as you hummed happily against him. His scent washes over you with ease. “Now, lets go…I have some things to show you.” Dameon purred into your ear; leaning into the softly mouth at your neck as he tightened his hold on you. Your giggles echoed around into the night as he guided you towards the car. His eyes were dark as they looked over to see Criston walking away. Revenge bubbling just under the surface.

TAGLIST

@lady-stark-winter-rose

@janelongxox

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lettherebrelight

@kittycatcait219 @lilyviolets

@writerslove2403

@opheliax98

@bshelley322

@casualheartadorable

@heartysworld

@multifndom @7minutes-tomidnight

@savage-aespa

@kid-from-new-zealand @mypatrochilles @ladystardvsts

@thekayarlene

@sandronebabyy

@ivanna6026

@bubblebuttwade

@rosesinmars

@believeinthefireflies95

@vivalarevolution @my-dark-prince

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #request #rockstar daemon targaryen

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silly-l1ttle-guy · 9 months

Text

bucci gang + la squadra go ice skating

i like making headcanons. also consider this an au where they all just hangout or something idk

------

BRUNO BUCCIARATI

he's never really ice skated before

he's happy to go nevertheless

he gets a hang of it fairly easily

he'll fall down a few times but he gets a good laugh about it

sticks close to Abbacchio

he'll help out Fugo once he's confident enough that he won't fall

he'll talk to the la squadra members when he takes a break from skating

like him and Prosciutto will sit down and talk for a bit

overall he has a good time

LEONE ABBACCHIO

you cannot tell me this man has never ice skated before

he used to take ice skating lessons come on

he's gracefully skating around while everyone else is falling on their asses

except for Ghiaccio, but we'll get to that later

he'll stick close to Bruno in the beginning to make sure he gets the hang of it

after Bruno gets the hang of ice skating, Abbacchio will probably give him a quick kiss and go off on his own

laughs at Giorno when he falls

"HAH! Giorno fell!"

will be offended if anyone laughs at Narancia or Trish for falling though

those are his kids, how dare they?

he'll zoom over to beat their ass

he has a fun time and shows off a lot

GIORNO GIOVANNA

he gets the hang of it after like five minutes

he's a natural at like everything

like he'll fall down a few times, but that's to be expected

and most of the time it's because Fugo's clinging onto him with the tightest grip you can imagine

"GIOGIO DON'T LET GO I'LL SLIP" "I've got you, don't worry"

this boy manages to make everything romantic.

after Fugo get's used to it they'll hold hands and skate around together

it's very cute

Sorbet and Gelato might even comment on how cute they are together (they're alive now. why? because fuck canon, that's why)

he likes to spin

you'll just see Giorno and Fugo spinning together and giggling wildly

then they have to take a break cuz they got too dizzy

he had a very fun time, probably the most fun he's had in a while

GUIDO MISTA

falls flat on his ass the moment he gets on the rink

and every five minutes after that

he'll purposefully stay close to Narancia and Trish, then grab on to them when he's about to fall and brings them down with him

they keep making jokes about each other too

"Damn Trish, I didn't think you'd be so shit at ice skating!" "Shut up Mista, you're lucky the ice can even support your fat-ass" "Yeah, I'm surprised the ice isn't cracking beneath you like in the movies" "Fuck off Narancia, you can hardly see anything with that shit eyesight of yours"

he starts sweating a lot too

Narancia and Trish end up trying to skate away from him because he smells bad

he just chases after them and subjects them to his stink

overall he has a lot of fun

PANNACOTTA FUGO

very wobbly

he just clings to Giorno for most of the time

he just really doesn't wanna slip and fall

not because it'd hurt, but because Narancia, Mista and Trish would tease him about it for weeks

he eventually gets the hang of it and just holds Giorno's hand and skates around with him

he's very peaceful during this time

GIORNO KEEPS SPINNING HIM AROUND AND HE WON'T STOP

they eventually have to take a break because he got too dizzy

Illuso probably makes fun of him for "being weak"

he just threatens him while trying not to throw up

"What? Are you too weak to handle a bit of spinning?" "Don't make me get out Purple Haze..." "HAHA NEVERMIND I WAS KIDDING"

he has a fun time with Giorno :]

NARANCIA GHIRGA

Stays close to Mista and Trish

they do stupid shit together lmao

"Trish I dare you to lick the ice" "EW no! Mista should do it" "WHY AM I BEING TARGETTED?!"

Have I mentioned that they only bully Mista

it's because Mista can take anything they throw at him

like literally he just brushes it off

Narancia falls over like 447837269 times

most of it is Mista's fault tho

I NEED TO STOP TALKING ABOUT MISTA HOLY SHIT

he does a stupid thing and skates over a thin patch of ice

it breaks and he falls in

Abbacchio zooms in to save him lmao

he has to go home early :[

he had a lot of fun though, minus the fact that he fell into the water

TRISH UNA

she's probably pretty good at ice skating

this is her first time, but she likes rollerskating so she gets the hang of it

she stays with Narancia and Mista

also her and Narancia keep bullying Mista, as stated before

she probably convinces Mista to carry her at some point

only for them both to fall

"DAMNIT TRISH! WE FELL BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO FAT!" "SHUT UP, FATTY!"

then they apologize because they feel bad

"You're not actually that fat btw Trish" "Yeah neither are you"

then they go right back to bullying each other

she ends up going home early with Narancia and Abbacchio

she has a really fun time though

RISOTTO NERO

he's so fucking scared of slipping it's hilarious

he's a big guy, everyone's gonna notice

also scared of falling through the ice

the only reason he's there is to make sure no one dies

which means making sure Ghiaccio doesn't kill someone

the ice cracked a little under him and he got so fucking scared lmao

like he just stood there

for five minutes

pissing himself cuz he thought he was gonna fall through

Someone eventually notices that he hasn't moved and comes over to check if he's ok

"Are you all good, Risotto?" "I'm going to fall through the ice. Help."

never again

GHIACCIO

figure skater

it actually calms him

literally everyone is impressed

he might even race Abbacchio if he's feeling up to it

he wins btw

will get mad if he sees someone doing it wrong though

"FORMAGGIO YOU DUMBASS! THAT'S NOT HOW YOU FUCKING SKATE!"

He uses White Album to keep the ice from melting

he's doing everyone a favour fr

ESPECIALLY since Mista is naturally a very warm person

he took warm-blooded seriously

anyway Ghiaccio is very good at ice skating

he has a good time

PROSCIUTTO AND PESCI

Pesci is too scared to get on the ice

Prosciutto bullies him into ice skating

I don't really have any headcanons for these guys

also my fingers are starting to hurt so I gotta wrap it up

they have an ok time

MELONE

he's pretty good at ice skating

stares at people asses while they skate though

that's all from him

he had a good time

FORMAGGIO

dick cheese

makes fun of Narancia for falling

gets beaten by Abbacchio

has to leave early

did not have a good time

ILLUSO

shit at skating

keeps fucking falling

did not have fun

SORBET AND GELATO

romantic

they kiss

and try to give relationship advice to people

"Bruno, we've got some advice for you" "Hey Abbacchio, want some relationship advice?" "GIORNO WE CAN TEACH YOU HOW TO BE A GOOD BOYFRIEND!"

They have fun

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ask-christopher-harrison · 3 months

Text

★ 🄳🄴🄲🄺 🄳🅄🅃🅈 ★

(a lore drop in disguise, perhaps? maybe..-)

The ship swayed from left to right, not enough for things to topple over but enough for near by pencils and papers to gracefully fall to the floor. It was fairly late in the night, rather peaceful actually. No stress, no shouting, no hurtful pranks out of the blue. Oh, if only it could be like this all the time.

★ “Looking for some peace and quiet, hm?”

Christopher stopped mopping, turning his head to the familiar voice. It was his best friend, Benjamin. Thank god it was, or he might’ve been soaking wet from his own mop bucket.

★ “I guess you could say that.”

he replies, continuing his late night duties. God, he was such a workaholic. I guess maybe thats why he's treated unfairly. He was seen as weak, and with skills of a house wife. Which was fair, and he wasn't gonna deny that it wasn't true.

Benjamin sighed as Christopher once again mopped the deck.

★ "you need to take a break, Chris. I know you haven't gotten much sleep. You nearly toppled into the ocean today!… Again."

he leaned on one of the wooden poles, the most playful expression smeared on his face. Christopher rolled his eyes and smiled, mopping in the opposite direction. As he made his way over, Benjamin tripped him. causing him to almost fall. But, he swiftly twirled Christopher around. Landing him in the same spot as before. Christopher held the mop tightly, doing the cartoonish blink. You know the one.

★ "cmon, relax a little. I know where captain hid the liquor! we can play the ask game!" he hinted in mischievously manner.

As we can tell, Chris isn’t the type to hurt someone’s feelings. Even if it’s just the slight feeling of disappointment. He knew that all too well, himself.

so, naturally..

★ “s-sure! Hahaaaa…”

He laughed nervously, ending it with a small squeak of regret. God, why did have to be such a push over? Quite literally too, he might add?

With that being said, They quietly snuck to the cabin. Time to have some one-sided fun!

yay..

The Two sat near the edge of the boat, legs in between the small railings so they wouldn’t fall Off. It was Christopher’s turn to pick, so he was thinking for a moment. Before, Finally, getting a prompt. In case anyone was wondering, the Ask game was basically never have I ever. Except instead of putting fingers down, you take a drink of your alcohol.

★ “never have i, mhm..threw rocks at someone I hated”

He giggled a bit. If he was being honest, he was joking about this one. But to his surprise, Benjamin sighed and took a sip of his liquor.

Christopher gasps, dropping his jaw.

★ “NO WAY. REALLY?”

Benjamin smiled, looking a bit embarrassed.

★ “ha. You bet. Mostly just random loots. it was pretty funny, now that I think about it.”

★ “oh my god, Your terrible!”

he playfully pushed him, both laughing. After the laughing had toned down a bit, Benjamin asked Christopher his question.

★ “never have iiii..had a crush..”

Christopher picked up his drink, ready to take a sip before-

★ “..on a man!”

His smile dropped at the sentence, feeling uneasy as he placed his drink back down.

Benjamin giggled. He leaned on Christopher’s shoulder, clearly drunk out of his mind. Oh boy, was he gonna be hung over in the morning..

★ “alright, I think it’s best we pack it in Benny.”

He sighed, patting Benjamin on the back. Benjamin made a weird noise. Like, a pathetic drunk man noise. Bro was a pathetic wet cat…

He stands up, grabbing Benjamin’s arms. He struggled to drag him, pulling with all his might. He thought about what his friend had asked. ‘Liking a man…liking a man..?’ He thought to himself, now sweating a bit. Poor guy was cursed with arms that resembled tree branches. as they finally got to the sleeping room, Christopher place Benjamin gently on his bed, panting. After his breathed normalized, Christopher carefully lied on his own bed. His mind wandered, continuing to linger to what Benjamin had said.

why did he say that? It’s such a weird question!

of course he didn’t like a man! Let alone, anyone! He couldn’t like a man!

..c-could he?

((GOD THIS TOOK WAY LONGER TO FINISH THEN IT SHOULD HAVE.))

((But yay, more Benjamin content! :D))

((might make more for Christopher, but at the moment I’m tired so it won’t be anything super soon..heh.))

((also..@schnozzlebozzle !! Twas I, i was the anon all along!!! Mwhahaha…))

#‼️ooc‼️#ramshackle oc #ramshackle #ramshackle chris #ramshackle au

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neonacity · 2 years

Text

HIRAETH | Reader x Jeno

Hiraeth: (n) a longing for a home you can never return to, or that never was.

TW: blood, weapons, character death, wounds. Werewolves.

Summary: This is Jeno’s installment of my Dark Fairytale Series featuring the Dream’s 00 Line. You can check out the other stories on my Masterlist here. This is a work of fiction and does not imply any likeness between the characters and their original counterparts.

“And what if… It is the villain you fall for? What then?”

Hunting is more than just the kill.

It is a game. Of patience... Timing... and the right dance between predator and prey.

Jeno’s mastery of the art couldn’t be more pronounced as he crouched on his hiding spot, his eyes set on the clearing ahead. Beyond him, a fawn grazed freely, its deep brown coloring bathed by the pillars of sunlight piercing through the thick foliage of the canopy. Like a ghost, he silently reached for one of the thinnest arrows strapped onto his back and gracefully docked it on his bow. The gentle sounds of the forest masked the creaking of his string as he pulled it, before he finally let the weapon fly into the air.

It caught the fawn straight at the neck, making it topple to the side and start kicking its legs in shock. By the time he had straightened up from his hiding spot, the animal's eyes had already turned glassy and blank. Jeno easily stepped over from the shrubbery and pulled out a knife from his belt as he bent over his hunt. It will be a good hour until the sun dips in the west, so he has enough time to skin his game and head back to the village.

"Impressive. You still have the best aim of all the hunters I've ever seen."

His leather-gloved hand froze in the middle of edging his dagger as a foreign voice disturbed his peace. His first instinct was to pull up one of his axes and drive it straight to the source of the sound, but his visitor was already there, leaning against one of the ancient trees before he could even blink. The boy was shadowed by the shade, but his pale countenance still stood out from where he was standing. Jeno gave him a dead stare before fixing his attention back to his task.

"And you still have the eerie behavior of stalking everyone in the woods. Were you planning to hunt me?" He asked as he cleanly ran his blade to separate the skin from the flesh of the carcass. Blood seeped into the soil, turning it pitch black. The stranger grinned at him, his perfect white teeth making him seem even more unnaturally perfect.

"If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you years ago."

"So why didn't you, old man? I thought you hated our kind."

There was a moment of pause as his visitor pushed himself off the tree to finally step into clearing. The moment the rays of the afternoon sunlight hit him, it was like the air in the small space stilled before restarting again. He was beautiful, with pale skin and dark hair that fell to his eyes. Instead of being closer to human, however, his features seemed to belong more on marbled sculptures of weeping angels. He was dressed simply but nicely, a stark difference to Jeno's worn out leathers. Like him, however, he was young, though his youth doesn't seem to reach his jet-black eyes now set on him.

"I do. But some talents deserve some exception. Besides, you have never desecrated the lands here, nor have you gone after my head yourself."

Jeno gave a dry chuckle. "I am not stupid enough to join a war I did not start. Whatever bad blood my family has with yours is none of my business."

"A smart choice. You've always had a logical head with you, huntsman. Which makes me wonder… What will it take for you to start a strife?"

"I have no care for human affairs."

"The Blood Moon is coming in a fortnight, Jeno."

He stilled as if his veins were shocked with ice. Slowly, he raised his gaze towards the young man in front of him. The latter's expression was impassive, but the darkness in his eyes was enough of a proof to the truth behind his words.

"When that happens, the whole kingdom can be thrown into a bloodbath. You need to know where you stand when that time comes."

Jeno slowly stood up from his crouched position, his eyes unwavering on the other. They were almost the same height, though the power they give off couldn't be more different from each other.

"Are you threatening me, Jaemin?"

The vampire didn't move. He was so still that he looked more like a porcelain statue than an actual living being.

"I am not, as long as my lands are respected during that time. But if my mate gets hurt…" he paused, his head angling a little bit to the side. His eyes glowed golden for a moment before settling into pitch black once more.

"Then I will personally rip the head of the Black Wolf myself."

******* "My Lady, your father has called for a meeting at the Blue Hall."

You looked up from the book on your lap just in time for your lady-in-waiting and good friend to settle on the seat across from you. Despite the fact that it was only the two of you in the parlor, her eyes still shifted side to side as if she was checking the privacy of the place. Slowly, you closed your novel as a confused frown crossed your features.

"The Blue Hall? All of a sudden?" You asked, your voice thin with concern. Your manor has no shortage of private rooms, but the Blue Hall is dedicated for highly official meetings of the Duke of Black Thorn.

"Yes. I have not fetched enough information yet, but I have seen some of the guests come in. They have closed the doors in private and have sent guards away."

That piece of information only left you even more confused. As the Lord of these lands, your father has no shortage of guests for his affairs, but you could only count in your fingers the amount of times he had called for such last minute gatherings. Something must have happened… that you are sure of.

“Who are his guests? Have you recognized some of them?”

Your friend paused a bit and pursed her lips, a reaction that only caused your anxiety to escalate more.

“It’s the huntsmen, My Lady.”

You weren’t able to keep the look of shock from your face. Black Thorn Grounds is set on the southern borders of the Kingdom, near the fringe of the Dark Enchanted Forest. Ever since time immemorial, the land has served as the home of the prominent hunting families in the whole kingdom. Some say it’s because it’s where they are closest to their game, but the villagers know the real reason behind it.

Rather than seeking their prey out, the huntsmen are there to keep the predators away.

“I need to go and talk to him,” you said all of a sudden as you picked yourself up from your seat. Your lady in waiting look scandalized as she followed suit, but you were too fast in making your way out of the room before she could even pull you back.

“Young Mistress, wait. I don’t think that’s a good idea—!”

You chose to ignore her, your gait determined as you went straight to the hallway that will lead you to the place. The poor girl was already stumbling all over her skirts when you skidded to a halt in front of a deep blue door, hands grasping the heavy golden handles. You pulled it open with no hesitation and stepped in before anyone inside could even realize what was happening.

Your eyes quickly scanned the room just as the guests trained their eyes on you. Your friend was right. There was no doubt that these are the kingdom’s best hunters judging from their choice of garb alone. You were searching for your father when you suddenly stopped, your gaze stilling on a figure sitting far back from the rest. You know that face... You can never not know that face.

Lee Jeno.

It wasn’t the right moment, but you couldn’t stop the memories from racing back to you the second your eyes met. It’s been years... but that didn’t stop you from revisiting snippets of your childhood that you have long since buried. As the Duke of Black Thorn, your father has to keep close ties with all the prominent hunting families in your town. Jeno comes from the Lee line, a clan known throughout the kingdom for being the best in the trade. This connection gave him access to your manor every time his family would come for their business affairs, which in turn, led to you developing an unlikely friendship with him. You remember the first time you met him, when you were only six, the two of you immediately clicking due to your shared love for the outdoors. From there, he always made it a point to spend a few fortnights with you, using his family’s visitation rights as his excuse. He was a close friend. Probably even your only friend... That is, until he decided to cut ties with you all of a sudden.

You never really knew what happened. Looking back at it now, you realized just how much everything came to a sudden halt. One random day when you were twelve, you were simply told that he couldn’t make it to the manor. There was no reason, nor an explanation. You thought it was a one time occurrence, but then seasons passed and he never came again. It was hurtful to say the least, especially since he disappeared like he was never there at all.

Today is the first time you’re seeing him again after almost a decade. You didn’t really know what you were expecting as you stared at this now-stranger, but it definitely wasn’t the impassive look he was now training at you. Unconsciously, you balled your hands into fists behind your skirts.

“Your daughter, Your Grace?”

Your attention snapped back to the present as you heard the question addressed to your father. Forcing yourself to look away, your gaze immediately found the man currently sitting at the head of the table. He didn’t look the least bit surprised to see you there—if anything, it even seemed as if he was expecting you to come barging in. Despite your nerves, you raised your chin as you waited for him to acknowledge you.

“I do not remember inviting you here, dear.”

Behind you, your lady-in-waiting cowered, her head down as she tried to reach out for your arm again. Your father is usually a civil man, but he is also someone who takes important affairs quite seriously. Everyone’s eyes were on you as they waited for the Duke’s reaction, but you kept your ground, unfazed by the attention.

“Has something happened?” you decided to ignore his question and get straight to the point.

“Even if it has, it is none of your business… At the moment.”

Your jaw tightened at the response. As his sole child, you remain the only heir to his aristocracy. You may not have the title yet, but that has never stopped you from caring for these lands and its subjects. Your father has not particularly stopped this side of you, but he has never encouraged it as well. When nobody in the room answered your question, you decided to finally offer one yourself.

“It’s the wolf isn’t it? Has it attacked again?”

The heavy silence that thickened the air was enough confirmation you needed. For as long as you can remember, your village has always been stalked by a monster during the full moon. For decades, it has taken lives, but the attacks have noticeably started to escalate as the years went by. During this time, your father has tried his best to hunt the monster down, though each effort only ends up in taking more from Black Thorn.

“Did it kill again? There’s not been a peek of the moon for the past weeks. And the last attack was six fortnights ago.”

“That is the reason why we’re here,” the man finally answered, his face grim. “The recent bloodshed is out of the ordinary.”

You frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“Last night, we found the bodies of men scattered along the edges of the Dark Forest. This is the biggest massacre we have ever seen in years. The werebeast is growing stronger by the day, so much that it doesn’t need the full moon now to sustain its power.”

“But… That’s impossible…”

“It is. With the Blood Moon coming.”

All heads in the room swiveled towards Jeno collectively. Even you yourself were surprised by him breaking his silence, but he looked unfazed by the intensity of the stares he was getting. Your father remained calm in his seat despite the obvious tick in his jaw.

“The Blood Moon is a myth. It has never been proven to be more than just lore.”

"Nor has it been disproved as well,” he answered, voice low. “The Blood Moon is more than just an old wife’s tale, and it rises in the sky every decade to paint it red. This is the time when creatures of the dark are at their strongest, though it is the werewolves that gain the edge the most. As children of the moon themselves, it is the only time they can prowl the night without any of their usual weaknesses. It has happened a few years ago, and it is bound to come again.”

“The Red Night. I remember this happening ten years ago,” one of the elderly members of the circle chimed in darkly. “The village was ravaged by a monster and almost decimated more than half of our population. It was carnage. We were only able to hold off enough to prevent the beast from passing the boundaries of Black Thorn and moving to the other towns. it was never confirmed that it was indeed the Blood Moon, but if the lore is true, then the timing matches.”

Your father seemed frozen in his seat as he listened, his eyes glazed as if he was watching a montage only he can see. You could only assume that you looked the same, as memories of you being sent to another village when you were twelve came back to you in waves. You were young, but you can still remember coming back the day after and finding out about the massacre that happened.

That night… you lost your mother as well.

“What are we going to do, Sire? We have barely survived that night. We cannot have a repeat of it again.”

It took a while for your father to finally give an answer. When he did, he look resigned, the shadows on his face masking whatever storm of emotions he was suffering through.

“We have no other choice. We ride on the night of the Blood Moon…”

“And slaughter the beast itself.”

******* “Wait! Stop!”

Your leather boots padded against the packed dirt of the courtyard as you ran after the boy heading towards the gates. You knew he heard you despite not turning around because he slowed his pace enough just enough to let you catch up. When you finally did, you made sure to block his way before he could make another step. It was a futile attempt, because you were the one who felt frozen on your spot when your gazes finally clashed.

For a quick second, you almost forgot about whatever it is that you wanted to say to him. Jeno had definitely changed throughout the years, his stature now looming over you and his features more grown. And yet, none of those changes are what shook you the most as you looked up to take him in. Instead, it was the hardness in his eyes that almost made you falter from your stand.

“What is it?”

The coldness in his deep voice made you internally shiver, but you held your ground before you betrayed yourself and show any sign of weakness. Instead, you squared your shoulders, your expression determined.

“You didn’t say everything you know about the Blood Moon earlier,” you whispered, voice down despite the fact that it was only the two of you in the courtyard. Something flickered in his eyes that only made your suspicion grow even more. “I want to know why.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Lies. It was your clan who was at the forefront of the fight during the Red Night. They were the ones who fought the monster head on with my father—that’s why your family are considered the heroes of these lands. You lost a lot of your kin from it, but they did save this village.”

“How do you know about this?”

“Everything that happens in the Kingdom is chronicled. Anyone can know… As long as they have the desire to look,” you answered slowly and carefully. You have never shared this confession to anyone else before, but as the only daughter of the Duke, you can access sealed records with the right amount of digging and sleuthing.

“What do you want from me?” Jeno asked, his jaw tightening. For a slip of a moment, you thought his impassive facade has finally cracked, showing a glimpse of something more than just cold detachment. Unfortunately for you, he was too quick to catch himself, and in the next second he was back to wearing his mask.

“I want to know why your family hid from the public that the Black Wolf was slaughtered during the Red Night. It was all in the records. I know you were there too, Jeno. Several eye witnesses have seen the beast beheaded by your clan members. The same witnesses who were reported dead a week after the massacre. ”

Jeno’s eyes have turned so black that they almost scared you. Still, you held your place, not giving way until you get answers. He looked at you for a few more painful seconds before side-stepping so he could walk past you. In your panic, you quickly turned around before he could put more distance between the two of you.

“The werewolf killed my mother!” the words were already out of your lips before you could even stop yourself. It made Jeno pause, his back rigid. He didn’t look at you, but you could tell from the set of his shoulders the bitterness running through him.

“It wiped out my family too,” he said, angling his face so that he could look at you. You could only see his side profile, but the loathing that you saw there was enough to make your blood run cold. “The curse of the Lycan had taken more from me than it had from yours.”

The venom in his voice shocked you numb. Never have you seen such pure, unadulterated anger from someone that you felt cold to the core. You watched as he continued walking away, before you caught yourself again.

“Wait! Just answer my last question then!” you called out to him before he could fully disappear from your gates. “What can the Blood Moon do to the one who has a curse?”

Jeno only momentarily stopped. For a while, you thought he wouldn’t give you anything, but then his next words made your heart drop.

“Under the Blood Moon, the Black Wolf can pass the curse to someone else to create a beast as powerful as they are.”

******* "I apologize. I think I heard you wrong. What did you just say, my Lady?"

You silently followed the shifting of the shadows on the edge of the Dark Forest from the glass-paned window of your room. Peeking behind the clouds, glowing like a ghostly apparition was the waxing moon, bright but not yet complete in its form. From the position of the stars in the sky, you could assume there are only a few days left till it fully wanes; signaling the rise of the Blood Moon in the sky.

You took your time to give your close friend an answer, unsure of how to phrase things in a better way. If it were only up to you, you would have chosen to bring this secret to the grave, but you also knew someone else has to know, lest something happens to you. As your confidante and the closest you can have for a sister, she is the only one you can leave this information to.

"I think the beast walks among us… whoever they are, they are within the village, hiding among us humans."

"I do not understand. What makes you think of this?"

"Ten years ago, the beast who was terrorizing the village died, presumably in the hands of the Lee clan. It was also during the rise of the Blood Moon, the only night when a werewolf's bite can turn another human being into a monster. If the hidden accounts from that night are correct, there is a high chance that the original beast has perished, before passing on the curse to someone else," you said as you turned from your spot to fix the other girl with your stare.

"It makes sense, too. Over the years, the attacks have escalated, proving that the new monster is slowly growing in power… maturing if one must say so. It also has never tried attacking any other place other than Black Thorn… Almost as if it has a personal vendetta against the people of this land."

"But… If the werewolf is among us, why do you think it has managed to escape our huntsmen? Black Thorn has the best hunters of the Kingdom. The beast wouldn't have passed them."

The crackle of the dying flames from your fireplace was the only sound that could be heard from your room as you tried to contemplate over your answer. The truth is… your suspicions could be very much wrong, but all signs also point to one possibility.

"It could have... If it was covering as a hunter himself...”

You saw your friend's silhouette pause in shock in the dying light of your room. You walked over to the edge of your bed, voice low as you continued.

"The Lee clan was at the forefront of the war against the Lycans a decade ago. They were the key behind the Kingdom's win during the Red Night, the hailed heroes of BlackThorn... Which makes you wonder, why would they hide the fact that they have slayed the beast during the fight? It doesn't make sense, especially when that war almost wiped out their whole bloodline."

"Are you saying they are hiding the truth because…"

"When the werewolf was killed, it probably passed on its curse to someone else. That family probably covered up its death to hide the fact that one of them is now the carrier of the bite."

"But almost everyone from the Lee family has now died. I heard they weren't able to bounce back from the war so its remaining heirs rarely interacted with others. Their bloodline is almost obsolete. Even the remaining ones now are too old, weak, or dying."

"Almost. There is one left, the sole and last son born to their clan more than twenty years ago."

Your friend's lips parted as she looked on to you, shell-shocked. It looked like she was racking her brains, trying to remember every single face from earlier.

"The boy with the black eyes…?"

As if the words triggered something deep inside of you, that same pair flashed in your mind's eye again. It didn't matter that you've only seen Jeno today again after so long. His gaze seemed to be burned into your consciousness even if you try to close your eyes.

"My Lady, you must definitely tell your father. Three days from now, he and the other hunters will go to the Dark Forest to hunt for the beast. That boy will be included in the party. This can easily become a massacre if we don’t do anything."

You were silent only for a moment as you considered the plan. You wanted to tell the others, your father most especially, but something unexplainable is holding you back. You couldn't really understand what it is, but your gut tells you to keep your silence… For now.

"I will. On the night of the Great Hunt. As much as it will be dangerous for us, it is also the only time we can keep the wolf within our reach. He'll be easier to trap while he is close to us. For now, none of this can come out yet."

The other girl didn't look convinced, the set of her lips still worried. She looked back at you, probably reflecting your own fears and apprehensions.

"And if things don't work out? What shall we do?"

Your throat felt dry, but you managed to push out an answer. Your voice was firm and set, but it still didn't stop your words from sounding like a death sentence to your own ears instead.

"I'll have to kill him with my own hands instead."

****** The thick deer skin under the leather of your hunting garb was not enough to entirely hold back the chill of the frigid night air. You weren't sure if it was just the nerves turning your skin clammy under all your layers, but you are almost convinced that there is something supernatural clinging thick into the night as you stood just outside the borders of the Dark Forest. After days filled with anxiety and tension, the Blood Moon has finally risen high into the skies, signaling the start of the Kingdom's longest fortnights.

The Dark Forest looked unnaturally still today as if it was a silent monster waiting for its first prey. Surreptitiously, your eyes wandered down the line of hunters stretching on your side, men and women who all looked like they could have easily melted in the dark should you let them out of your gaze for a second. You almost felt out of place in the group, despite also being trained in the same trade since you were young.

If you were going to be completely honest, it also came as a surprise when your father agreed to let you join the hunt. You were already expecting to fight for your position in the ranks that it shocked you when the man supported your request to participate. You could still remember his words that night...

"If there is a perfect time for you to be a part of the hunt, it would be the night of the Blood Moon."

Your eyes wandered further down the line now, only stopping when it finally found the person you were looking for. Jeno stood silently a few men down from where you were, all dressed in black. You could barely see half of his face under the drooping hood of his hunting coat, but the glow from the moon caught slivers of light strapped on his back and the hip of his belt.

Holy silver. The only metal that can kill a werewolf.

"Make sure to stay close to me."

The voice of your father made you tear your eyes away from your former friend. Silently, you gave a small nod, afraid that your voice might betray the conflicting emotions pressing against your chest. You were still set on doing what needs to be done today, but that didn't mean the vow was easy for you to accept.

"Yes, Father."

"We go in three groups. The first faction will scan the west of the forest and the third will tread the eastern trail. We will go north, straight ahead," the man said, addressing the group. Your hand tightened unconsciously on the hilt of your own blade strapped to your hunting belt. If your number will be split equally, then Jeno will be part of your faction.

"Always keep your eyes ahead and watch each other's backs. We might encounter other creatures in the forest but don't forget what we came for. You know the Black Wolf is near if you smell blood.”

Where the beast prowls, death follows, you said silently in your head.

None in the group needed another word to collectively start. Moving like shadows under the cover of the night, the unit split into its respective groups and started making their way towards their assigned trails. The moment you passed the first ring of trees, you could tell something has definitely shifted, the air seemingly thicker with something no human words can truly capture. This wasn't the first time you have entered the Dark Forest, but your skin prickled from the unexplainable energy that charged the air.

Your group continued pushing on for a few more minutes, following the trail that would lead you to the heart of the woods. Your senses were hyper-focused, your hearing picking up the slightest of sounds, from the flap of bird wings to the breaking of branches under heavy boots. Everyone in your group was on high alert, though nobody really made any big moves. That has always been one of the critical rules of hunting: stalk, do not attack. Hunters know not to pursue their game, but to wait for them.

Especially when the prey is just waiting for the right time to attack himself.

For minutes you continued with your trek, silent in your movements. It was not until the Blood Moon peeked from behind the clouds when something finally broke the deafening stillness of the forest. You were watching Jeno closely in your peripheral vision when all of a sudden, a blood-curdling scream split the air. The voice was so high-pitched that it almost didn't sound human, but then you started making out words, begging for help. You whipped your head so fast, trying to figure out the source of the sound.

"Stop! Help me!"

"It's the Western group. They're under attack," one of the men said beside you.

"Do you think it's the—"

"Wolves!!! Run!!!"

"Quick! Let's go!"

You felt yourself almost flying through the forest as you broke into a run. You could barely see your father in between the winding trees, his red coat the only thing that's keeping you from losing him. You were so caught up in the adrenaline of it all that you barely caught Jeno stop with his sprint, his eyes set on the rest of your party as all of you whizzed past him. The moment you realized what he was doing, you stopped all of a sudden, the motion almost making you topple all over your feet. He looked like he was observing… contemplating something. And then his eyes met yours.

Your heart dropped to your stomach when he started running towards the other direction without another word. Your reaction was almost instantaneous. Without even looking back, you chased after him, your boots thundering against the forest floor as you tried your best not to lose sight of his figure winding between the trees. The darkness of the forest deepened as you delved deeper into its heart, the gleam of his silver blades the only thing keeping you on his tail. He dipped here and there in between the darkness, almost at an inhuman speed, but you didn't stop despite the piercing pain that had started on your side from all the running.

You were only forced to slow down and pause when you ran head on into a wall of thorny branches that seemed to have come out of nowhere. It was too late for you to see and dodge it so you had no other choice but to barrel through them, the sharp thorns leaving tears and cuts on the sleeves of your clothes and the skin of your cheek. You were still reeling from the crash when you finally stumbled into what looked like a small clearing ringed by thick fringe of trees you just passed. It was a small vacant lot that opened up into a clear view of the sky and the waning moon above.

For a moment, only the sound of your labored breathing filled up the space as you tried to get your bearings. Eyes roving, you slowly bent over to pull the biggest knife from your belt as you tried to take a feel of your surroundings. Despite the thick silence, you are absolutely sure that you are not alone, the feeling of being watched heavy on your skin and making the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end.

The sharp cracking of a dead branch from somewhere behind you made you spring to action. You turned instinctively to swipe your blade, but a strong force pinned your arms to your back before you could move. The next thing you felt was the iron grip and suffocating feel of a leather-gloved hand muffling your screams.

"Shh. If you want to live, stop struggling."

You immediately froze as the feel of hot breath skimmed the side of your face. You didn't need to turn your head to know the owner of that voice, the hand holding your dagger shaking as you realized your predicament. Still, you refused to let the it go despite the heavy trembling of your fingers.

Jeno. He got you. And now you're going to be slaughtered just like everyone else.

"You need to listen to me and do every single thing I tell you. Do not make a sound. We need to get out of here."

The rising fear in your chest had almost rendered the logical part of your brain numb. Jeno was unbelievably strong, and you barely realized you were being dragged back into the forest until you felt him pause just as you were about to disappear between the trees. It took you a while to realize what was going on, until your eyes set on the opposite shadowed side of the clearing.

You heard it before you even saw it. Branches broke and bent as a low growl from the other side made the very ground you were standing on tremble. And then it hit you.

The metallic smell of fresh blood.

And the rotting scent of death.

"Shit. Keep your dagger close to you," Jeno whispered in a low voice the same time gleaming red eyes appeared between the trees. You didn't even notice his hand lowering from your lips as you stared, speechless at the monster that finally stepped into the moonlit clearing. The wolf's fur shone deep black under the glow of the night as it stood almost as tall as a man, its ruby gaze set on you. Blood and flesh dripped from between its maw which it now bared into a snarl.

You were still in shock for being face to face with the beast itself, that what happened next took your breath. In just a matter of seconds, your terror finally grew into a full blown nightmare after a cloud shifted to reveal the moon above. It bathed the monster with its eerie light, giving you a sharp view of the scene as it unfolded. You watched, terrified, as the flesh and bones of the beast churned right in front of your very eyes, like a broken marionette being tugged by an invisible master. Its own bones snapped and locked again until its silhouette transfigured into an entirely different creature. If not for Jeno's tight grip on your waist, you would have fallen on your knees from the swift misery that overtook you the moment you saw its face.

"Father…"

The man smiled at you, his teeth red with blood.

"Hello, darling. Didn’t I tell you not to leave my side?"

******* You were convinced that you had died and was pulled to the deepest depths of hell.

"I apologize for being a little late. I had to take care of the rest of the hunters first. I have to say… those men did put up a good fight, though they were still foolish enough to fall for my trap."

You stared, unseeing, as your father regarded you with his emotionless gaze from the distance. Your shock had rendered you numb, that you weren’t even sure if you were hearing him right or if your broken mind was just making things up. Regardless, your stomach turned as you processed what he just said.

A trap…? The blood covering him right now… Are those…

"You were supposed to be there, princess. I wanted this to be done quickly, but I see you've lost your way. Nevermind though. Maybe it's a good thing you didn't see the carnage. It can be a little heavy to stomach at first…"

Your father leaned his head a little bit to the side and clasped his hands behind his back as he looked down on you. For a fraction of a second, he almost looked like the man you've always known, except the light didn't really quite reach his eyes.

"It's a good thing Jeno found you for me… Otherwise, I would have ripped the whole forest apart just to catch you.”

For what seemed like the hundredth time that night, it felt like a hole was punched straight into your chest. Not once have you tried to look at Jeno since earlier, but you turned your head slowly now to see his reaction. What you saw on his face was probably what made you lose the last string holding you together. His eyes were dark… but there was not a trace of denial in them.

He knew.

All along.

"Jeno…"

Your father smiled wider as he saw you piece things together. Slowly, he started pacing back and forth, as if he was enjoying the look of betrayal on your face. He was too far gone from the man you thought you knew, almost as if that version of him never existed at all. When you finally had the strength to look at him, his eyes glinted, like he was already expecting your next words.

"How could you…? You were supposed to take care of this town."

"What are you talking about, darling? I did. I still am. Why do you think other supernatural beings wouldn't dare step foot here? The lore of the Black Wolf has kept them, and other humans who had their eyes set on our lands, at bay."

"You've also killed innocent villagers!"

"Ah. Yes. Well, those are rougher nights, you see. Sometimes, when my powers get the best of me, I do lose control. Casualties, they all are. I wouldn't think too much about them."

You were stumped. The lack of mercy in his voice and actions is probably more nauseating than the smell of death that is still suffocating the stagnant air enveloping you now. It was so strong that the stench clung to your clothes and sank deep into your very marrow.

"You're a monster…" was the only thing you managed to say as you looked at him, defeated. A quick shadow passed his face, though it dulled down in an immediate second. A change in the set of his jaw almost made you shrink back against Jeno.

"Maybe I am. But I wasn't at first. Not until I was turned by the very same beast who killed your mother,” he said, his gaze hard. “To an extent, I do admit it was my fault. You see darling, I could have lived a peaceful, comfortable life, but I was foolish enough to think of myself as a hero and save this town. I did, in a way, but at the cost of sacrificing my own humanity.”

You listened with slow horror at his recount of that night. You've always known that your mother was one of the casualties of the former Black Wolf, but your father had never really talked about what happened then in detail.

"I remember that night pretty clearly," he continued, the last traces of warmth bleeding out of his eyes as he went inward to his memories. "The moon was high above the skies just like tonight when the wolf slipped into the village like a phantom. It used to be rabid, but its intentions were different that night. It only had one goal…" he stopped and looked at you dead on. "To kill our family and finally have his revenge."

"That monster... It had a personal vendetta against me after decades of our hunters killing off his kind. It knew that I was the only one keeping him from taking over Black Thorn and the rest of the Kingdom, and so it made sure to make me its target on the night it was at its strongest. I already had a feeling that it would happen, which is why I was able to make arrangements for you to be temporarily sheltered in another town. I begged your mother to come with you, but she was determined to stay and stand beside me in the fight."

"And she did. She fought very well. But we were also against a hound from hell, and after a long fight, the beast managed to rip her throat off. I wasn't so lucky… the monster could have killed me too if he wanted, but he also knew he wouldn't get out of Black Thorn alive that night. So instead he gave me something that's far worse than death. He passed on his curse to me before we swiped off its head."

The sinking cold feeling climbed from the pits of your stomach up to your chest. Your father continued, his expression lost on the ghastly memories of that night. Warmth streamed down your face until your vision blurred. You could barely even see him now from the tears tracking down your chilled cheeks.

"I did try to kill myself on that very same night. Believe me, I did. I was about to use your mother's dagger and bleed right beside her, but then she stopped me and begged me not to go through with it with her dying breath. We can't leave you both, she said. And so I didn't, despite knowing what will become of me from then on,” your father continued, his gaze now lost and dead.

"The only people who were there were the Lees. The accounts are not wrong. Without their help, the Black Wolf wouldn’t have been taken down… But as the only known witness of everything, I had to strike an arrangement with them. Pretend that the original wolf was still alive and keep their silence lest they want to lose their own heads. Nobody could ever know that a new beast was created. In return, I will provide protection to the village. Continue doing what I have always done.”

All the pieces started moving slowly in your head but you kept your lips sealed as you continued listening to the man. Everything makes so much sense now. The other witnesses mysteriously dying after making opposing accounts about the attack of the Black Wolf... The hidden records… All of those can be pulled off by someone with power and position, and who else have them other than the very Duke of Black Thorn himself?

“To be fair, I kept my end of the bargain. During the early years, I used my new identity to keep the village safe. Every transformation was painful, but I was mostly able to keep my sanity with me for as long as I could steer clear off humans. But then… the powers of the curse shifted as I matured more as a wolf. I became stronger… faster. I could do things I couldn’t do before. It was… intoxicating. Freeing.”

The way the man’s voice changed in tone definitely made the blood in your veins freeze. It didn’t even seem like he was speaking to you now, the look in his eyes lost and manic. The realization washed over you like poison as the last of the puzzle pieces clicked in your head.

Your father had been slowly corrupted by the curse over the years. He had let the blood of the Lycan eat him from the inside until it burned off the last traces of his humanity.

Power… poisoned him.

You were far too lost in the storm of your emotions that you barely caught the slight movement against your hands still being held by Jeno against your back. At first, you thought your fingers have finally gone numb with cold, but then you instinctively wrapped your free hand around something solid. You paused when you realized what it was.

A dagger.

He was giving you his silver knife.

You tried your best to try and reign in your emotions as you tightened your grip around it. Your father, fortunately, seemed none the wiser, too lost in his own world. You watched carefully as the man stopped with his pacing before turning towards you again.

“I’ve had a few good runs, but true power can only be appreciated if you have someone to share it with. This… is what this night is all about, darling. Finally, the time has come for you to also join me in this journey.”

You didn’t think there was something else that could shock you tonight, but his last words definitely rendered you speechless. You looked at the man, stupefied, as he started taking slow steps towards you. You felt Jeno ever so slightly pull you back, pressing you against his chest.

“What… What do you mean?”

“You heard what I said. During the night of the Blood Moon, a wolf can turn another into a creature as powerful as them. Come join me. Imagine what we can do together, if we both have the curse.”

The shock that overtook you almost made you retch. So this was his plan all along, the reason why he set up this trap tonight. You slowly shook your head, eyes wide as you watched him continue his advance.

“No… I will never… I will never be like you.”

He laughed. The man stopped just as he was a few feet away, regarding you with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. The moon dipped again from behind a black cloud, its light making his eyes glow red as it hit them.

“Princess, I think there is something you’re quite not getting here.”

“You don’t really have a choice.”

The next turn of events happened way too fast for you to catch. Jeno pushed you out of the way just as your father transformed mid-air as he lunged at you. The force of the push knocked the wind out of you but you caught him jumping out of the monster's path just as you rolled away and scrambled to get back on your feet. By the time you were upright again, you felt him tug at your arm and start to drag you back into the forest. The beast behind you howled as soon as it noticed what was going on.

"Run! Now!"

You didn't need telling twice. The two of you started weaving between the trees, away from the horrific crashing sounds behind you. Every so often, Jeno would turn and shoot an arrow with his bow despite the beast being too quick and agile to dodge them. When your father gave another howl, you doubled-over from the pain that assaulted your ears.

"Jeno! Give her back to me!" Your father's voice mixed with the growls of the beast made you almost fall and lose your balance. Jeno, however, pulled you before you collapsed a second after. The pained scream that followed told you that he finally managed to get a shot in.

"Get up. You can't stop. We need to get out of this forest!"

Your lungs were collapsing in your chest, but you did what you were told as you ran and jumped over dead tree roots and low hanging branches. You didn't care at all that you were now bloodied from all the gashes, your mind only set on escaping. It took you a couple more minutes of running until you realized that there were no other sounds following your frantic footfalls. Jeno seemed to have realized the same time you did as he suddenly pulled you to stop so that you could catch your breaths.

"Is he—is he gone—"

"I don't know. My arrow caught him, but we need to pierce his heart or cut off his head to kill him."

"Jeno what are we going to do?"

His jaw tightened as he finally turned to look at you. For the first time that night, you finally noticed the strain on his face. He looked torn. Troubled. You were only barely able to keep your tears in when he finally reached out to cup your cheek.

"We need to get to the village and look for reinforcements. I am sure he already killed every single hunter who joined the raid tonight."

"But he might just cause more carnage there. We can't let him step foot in Black Thorn again."

"Which is why you need to evacuate the women, children, and the elderly. Take them with you. Your father wants you, but you can be safe with them in the right place."

"Where—"

"Deep into the Eastern side of the forest, there is a sanctuary that you can go to. No human or any other supernatural ever dares trespass those grounds since it is under the ownership of a Pale Face, a Night Walker. Even your father wouldn't be able to go there without him being shredded to pieces. You'll know the place once you start to see the silver barks of trees."

"A Pale Face… Is he… A vampire?" You asked, confusion straining your voice. Jeno gave you a tight nod.

"He's a friend. He'll help you."

“But how about you—”

You weren’t able to finish what you were saying as an inhuman force suddenly knocked the two of you to the ground. Your vision turned white from the pain, but Jeno suffered more from the blow as he flew and body slammed against a tree a good few feet away. A grunt of pain left him as he started coughing blood when he slumped to the ground.

"Jeno—!"

Before you could even move on your spot, another scream was once again ripped from you as you felt the burning sting of talons slicing your back. Eyes closing from the pain, you collapsed once again as blood started seeping from your tattered garb. You couldn't see anything, but you heard the heavy footfalls of the beast just a few feet away from you before it gave a low snarl.

"Stupid boy. Your family promised their allegiance to me. You are going against their word."

A few short, labored coughs answered the beast. Looking up with white spots still clouding your vision, you saw Jeno lift his head and meet the glare of the werewolf despite his injuries.

"My family gave you their word. Not me. I have no affairs with you, you monster."

The weight of his words hung heavily in the space after. For a moment, even the usual sounds of the forest quieted down, which only punctuated the gravity of his statement more. The wolf watched him with his glowing eyes as you waited, breathless for the pin to drop. And then it finally did, and you thought you died the first time that night upon hearing its next words.

"If that is the case… then you leave me with no choice. Close your eyes, huntsman. I promise this won't be painless."

You were moving before you even realized what was happening. With a spurt of energy, you hauled yourself from the spot you are crumpled on just as the werewolf reared itself back, jaw open as it charged against Jeno. Jumping, you managed to land on its back before driving the silver dagger that you managed to hold on to straight at its nape. The blade sank deep into its flesh, causing the beast to howl in agony and stumble back. You tried your hardest to hold on to the blade, but it easily shook you off, leaving you flying into the air again and hitting the ground.

Your ears were still ringing as you tried to push yourself off the dirt. Unfortunately for you, you have only managed to lean to your elbows when you found yourself collapsing again as an excruciating pain ripped one side of your body. The wolf had managed to jump over you, one of its taloned paws pushing your shoulder into the forest floor. You screamed when it dug its claws against your flesh, shredding the skin there.

"Why are you fighting me. I am your father!" The beast roared, spraying you with spit and blood. Its eyes burned so red now they were almost black.

"You're not—You're not my father anymore…"

Your voice had gone so raspy that you barely managed to get the words out, but you saw something flicker in the wolf's eyes that was almost reminiscent of the human he once was. A shift of shadows and light and it was soon enough gone, replaced by a darkness that you couldn't fathom.

"Then so be it. After you have turned, I am sure you will change your mind."

Everything seemed to move in slow motion from there. The beast opened its jaw, long teeth glistening as it reared its head back. You know you should feel afraid, but instead there was a certain calm that overtook you as you slowly closed your eyes in resignation. Even the haunting howls seemed far away as you finally let go and let instinct take you over.

Soon enough, death will come, and the curse that has terrorized over Black Thorn will finally be over.

The piercing sound of flesh and bones cracking under force tore the air. Then it was silent again, the dead air finally urging you to open your eyes once more. Instead of being met with glaring red orbs, you came face-to-face with your father's deep brown human gaze. Slowly, your vision moved a little more downwards…

Right at your hand holding the silver dagger buried in his heart.

It took a few seconds for your mind to finally catch up with what you were seeing. As you numbly let go of the hilt, you realized it wasn't the only weapon embedded in your father's chest. Buried beside your blade, its tip slicing through the man's breastbone is a silver arrowhead. For the first time, you noticed Jeno hovering above him, having used one of his arrows to pierce your father from the back.

A werewolf can only be killed two ways. By cutting off its head...

Or piercing its heart with silver.

"You did so well… You were brave, my dear."

Your father's soft words shook you back to reality. The man was still looming over you, but his gaze was clear as he smiled down at your blood-streaked face. When he blinked, his own tears mixed with the warmth that was already streaming down your face.

"I'm so sorry…" you whispered, your voice breaking. He simply shook his head and reached to touch your cheek.

"Hush… Do not cry. Thank you for releasing me from the curse," he said as he slowly tried to sit up. Blood blossomed in his chest like rose petals, though he couldn't look any more free as the light of the moon hit him one last time. When he gave you one last smile, you knew it would be the last.

"Finally, I can rest. But please… Forgive me… For what I have done."

******* Jeno silently watched as the former Duke finally crumpled to the ground. Everything happened so fast, that even he was questioning whether the end had finally come. Under the light of the Blood Moon, the former protector of Black Thorn finally felt at peace after long years of carrying the curse with him. It was a salvation… not only for the town, but for the Master himself.

"Jeno…"

The soft voice that called out to him finally made him look up from the crumpled form of the man on the ground. His first instinct was to check if she was alright, but whatever words he wanted to say immediately died in his throat when his eyes finally settled on her. She was covered by the body of her father earlier, but even the deepest shadows of the forest couldn't hide the deep bite mark on her right shoulder. Jeno's gaze shot to her face only to be met by pleading eyes that almost made him die himself.

"Please... You have to kill me."

******* She was about to slump to the ground again when he finally had enough sense to run over to her side. Immediately, his arms went around her, cradling her against his chest to try and keep her head up as much as possible. Her eyes were unfocused—whether from the pain or the venom coursing through her veins, he didn't know.

"Jeno…"

"Shhh. Let me take a look at your wound. We need to make a tourniquet."

"He bit me. I can feel it. Something is happening to me."

Jeno tightened his jaw and refused to acknowledge her words. Instead, he started tearing parts of his clothes before pushing the rags against her gaping wound. His hands are now stained deep red, but he didn't care, his attention focused instead on trying to keep the blood flow at bay.

"We just need to get you to a medic. The village isn't too far away. We can make it. You can make it."

She was quiet as she let him continue with his mumbled whispers. He could feel her gaze heavy on him but he didn't look at her, afraid of what he might see there. He knew what was coming—what needs to be done. But that doesn't mean he could go through with it.

No. He refuses to.

"You have to kill me. You know that."

Her words finally made him stop. Slowly, he turned to look at her, face filled with grief. She tried to reach out for his hand and he quickly wove his fingers to hold hers.

"I won't do it," he finally said, voice breaking. The look he gave her only made his heart shatter.

"You have to."

"I can't."

"I don't want to become a monster."

That made him stop. The reality of the situation finally washed through him in its full gravity and it made him tremble. This was more than any pain he had suffered through during the years he had to tear himself away from her out of his own spite for her father. He was wrong for making her suffer for something she didn’t cause, but never in a lifetime did he think he would lose her like this. Just when he thought she was finally within reach again, fate just had to tear them apart once more.

For a while, the silence in the forest wrapped them like a bidding death sentence. Jeno didn't want the moment to pass, afraid of what might be waiting for him on the other side. It was only until he felt her pressing the handle of his own dagger against his palm that he allowed himself to grip her tighter. Leaning over, he buried his nose into her hair, taking in every bit of her that he could mark on him. He wrapped his fingers shakily around the hilt of his blade, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping it.

"We only have tonight to do it. When the Blood Moon passes, the change will be permanent. It is easiest to kill me now."

Jeno kept his lips pressed against her hair, silent. How cruel it is, for fate to put him in this very predicament. This was his childhood friend. The first girl who had treated him like her equal despite their differences in ranks, and at one point the woman he wanted to marry. The history of their families drove them away from each other, and now, he is about to lose her… All over again.

Without another word, he slowly raised his hand as he pulled away so he could look at her face. The action made her finally smile, like she was relieved by what was about to come. She was as pale as the moon above from the amount of blood she was losing, but even with her hazy, clouded eyes, she still looked at him with the same love and kindness she did when they were kids. When she reached out to touch his cheek, Jeno knew the thread between her dying and living the rest of her life as a cursed monster was just a few breaths away.

"Can you kiss me while you do it? I want it to be my last memory," she whispered weakly. He didn't hesitate to duck his head down to meet her parted lips, their breaths mingling together as he finally let his hand deliver the final blow.

It took her a couple of seconds to realize what happened. When he pulled back, her gaze dropped to the silver dagger buried cleanly on the soil instead. She took it in slowly as Jeno lovingly pushed back strands of hair that had stuck into her forehead.

"We only have an hour till dawn breaks. Why don't you take a rest first…?"

A dry sob left her when he realized what he had done.

"Why… You can't…"

"I won't. Even if I can. You will not die in my hands or in any other’s anytime soon. You will stay here. With me this time," he said, his voice sounding oddly unlike his usual tone. He never thought he would ever come to a crossroads like this, but he did. He had chosen to be selfish. Mad.

Because of love.

"Jeno, I'm begging you. I don't want to suffer like this…" her pleading barely made a dent in the fog that had taken over his mind. He pressed his lips against her forehead, deaf to everything else. Below him, he felt her start to try and reach out for the dagger herself with her waning energy, but he easily pulled it from the ground and threw it away. She sobbed again, helpless whimpers passing her cracked lips.

"I'm sorry. You can hate me every day and every hour after this, but I can't lose you again. I won't let you leave. Even if you loathe me for the rest of your life."

The way she blinked up at him told him that she could barely hear him. Jeno let his bloody fingers move to the side of her neck to deftly feel for the pulse point that will render her temporarily unconscious. He watched as her eyelids started to slowly flutter as he pressed against it before they finally lowered as she went under.

He smiled at her peaceful expression and moved to cup her cheek with his bloodstained hand. Slowly, he lowered his lips on her again, trailing kisses on every part of her face he could reach. All the while he continued whispering against her skin. Promises. Apologies. Words of love.

That continued, even as she bled and paled like a corpse in his arms. Jeno didn't stop once, not even during the moment when her skin started melding together again, leaving nothing but tracks of dried blood instead of gaping cuts. He continued, even as he felt her bones snapping back into place while he held her in his arms.

By the time he decided to finally look up, the sky already had tracks of red staining it. The Blood Moon was still up, its glow pale as the incoming sun started to overwhelm its light. Jeno looked down on the girl he was holding, waiting… waiting… for her to wake up. When her lips parted to give her first sign of breath, he smiled. Her eyelids fluttered open and he held her closer to her than ever.

"Good morning… Love."

Blood red eyes stared back at him, the same tinge of crimson in the skies above.

--------

JAEMIN’s Version | HAECHAN’s Version | RENJUN’s Version

A/N: So after a year of keeping this on hold, I finally got to finish Jeno’s part of the series. I was supposed to publish this on Halloween but oh well, it got so long. As usual, enjoy!

Permanent Taglist: @negincho, @jhornytrash, @aaasteroidsky, @huangberryyy, @marijmin, @ashkuuuu , @lostlovesoul11 , @johnniverse , @traint0tokyo , @lilyinthewinter , @byunniebaekhyunnie , @ellatizw , @bettyschwallocksyee , @stopeatread , @glitching-wren

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