#faes drabbles

[faeflowerz]

Savanaclaw Imprinting on You

I have nothing cheeky to say. Let's do this.

Warnings: My gross misunderstanding of animals, Bullying Leona for being a big chonk

Characters: Ruggie, Jack, Leona

Ruggie imprinting on you is an "oh shit" moment for him. He lives his life so casually and when he sees you, like really sees you for the first time, he's acting unwise. Ruggie will do things for you that he wouldn't for anyone else. He doesn't ask for you to return the favor. He even shares his food.

Now this last one is particularly special for him given that he values food more than his peers. Food is how he communicates and finds pleasure. I won't get too far into the feederism side, but I think there'd be a lot of "You should eat. Have you had breakfast?"

But it's not all picnics and dandelions. Hyenas are pretty scary if you piss em off. So if one of your guy friends touches you the wrong way or tries to tease him about his sudden obsession with you, he will go on the offense. Lots of growling and hes ready to turn them into a hashtag. You gotta drag him away every single time.

"Dude, you can't just go around picking fights with everyone! What's your damage, Ruggie?"

"I wouldn’t be so mad if those assholes kept their hands off of you!"

"That's what this is about? They mess around all the time, it's not a big deal."

"It is to me! I don't like it!"

"Okay, but why though? Why would you give a fuck?" You shake your head, frustrated by the look he was giving you.

"Because I'm jealous!" He barks. "I don't want anyone else touching you but me!" Everything is quiet as you try to process what he just said.

"Ruggie...what-"

"I like...being around you all the time. And all I can think about is you. And...ugh...this is so stupid." His cheeks are cute and pink as he mumbles his way though his confession. And you, you're smiling. Seeing him get so real with you is so sweet and touching. As he's trying to justify his behavior, you place a sweet kiss on his nose. Then he's all shishishi cause he got kissed.

When Jack imprints on you, he's pretty tsundere about it. Suddenly he's hanging around you and by extension the other first years. Its not like he loves you and how you smell and the way you laugh at your dumbass friends. He just...needs to be within five feet of you at all times. Oh, and that tail? It's wagging every single time you acknowledge him or give him attention. The most antisocial boy is suddenly craving your affection.

And of course Ace is gonna clown him for it. Though it feels a little bit different. "Is there somethin you're not telling us? No fair that you two have A Thing going on the down low."

"What are you even talking about?" Jack crosses his arms, clearly trying to keep cool.

"Come on, dude. You lit up when Prefect sat next to you," Ace pouts at the both of you before calling you out too. "Are you together?!"

"Wh-what?! What would make you think that?!"

And all of your friends have examples. Waay too many. And then, Ortho says, "You know, imprinting can happen to beast men too. There's a chance that-"

"What happens between me and Prefect is our business. I didn’t ask any of you to help me confess either."

Major self report. His tail is going a trillion per hour and he realizes what he just said. "Damn it."

"Ha! I knew it!" Ace chortles.

"Wow...that was pretty bold, Jack," Epel hides his grin behind his hand. As for you...

Well, you're smiling like an idiot. It's not like you haven't been purposefully saying and doing things to see his tail wag, make his ears flicker and see him smile a little. You can't pretend to be shocked as you look at Jack for a response. "Well, I guess I should have been honest from the start..."

So there you are, resigned to be a pillow for the biggest cat you've had the misfortune of knowing. Leona loves your thighs and like hell he's going to pass up on your free period to get some sleep. You've accepted your fate, but your legs are just as comatose as he is. As you try to shift around, this catman actually whines in protest. Inside, he's praying you didn't hear it. "Stop moving," he manages to say.

So, Leona's imprinted on you. Now what? Well, you're gonna know quite quickly. Like, it's kind of not a secret since Leona is so shameless with everything he does. Though, he won't actually say "I've imprinted on you." His actions are all the confirmation you need. Actually, he's the most overbearing because he will just drag you away from whatever you're doing just to take a nap with him. Are you in the greenhouse for a class? Well, too fucking bad. Leona wants you to give him attention. You know. Like a cat.

"M'leg's asleep," you complain. "Plus you're heavy."

"Neither of these are my problem."

"You're literally responsible for both."

"You callin me fat?"

"...maybe I am," Leona opens one eye to glare up at you. He wants to be mad. But seeing you so pleased by his reaction makes him melt a little. "What? All you do is eat and sleep what else am I supposed to think?" To your surprise, he sits up. You're about to ask but he flops on top of you, sending you both into the soft patch of grass. Leona's spooning you and your face is buried in his fat (and kind of fuzzy) tits. "Seriously?!"

"Look, you're just going to have to deal with the fact that you're one of the few people I can tolerate."

He's a real piece of work, isn't he? Still, his body is kind of warm and cuddly, huh? He would probably get mad if you said that out loud though.

[faesdreaming]

Yandere Fae - Temptation

he just wants to know your name, that’s all. he promises.

tw: yandere themes, possessive behaviour, reader is lowkey okay with it, implied murder, unhealthy relationships, stockholm syndrome (?)

“Come now, darling,” he croons, so very sweetly, “it’s just a name. I promise I won’t tell.”

He leans his cheek against your arm, gazing up pleadingly. You sigh as you feel your resolve waver. He— the fae— Lucian, he says his name is but you don’t know if he’s telling the truth.

Fae can’t lie, you’d been told as a child. The people of your town nary spoke of the faekind, save in warning tales. They’d told of weaknesses, of iron and salt. Lies. Falsehoods born from ignorance. Fae could lie, could weave truths of honeyed poison sweeter than any ambrosia. One thing you did know was not to tell one your name. Your grandmother had told you. She was the same woman who warned you of the dangers, who thwarted the ignorant claims of the fellow villagers

“Please.” Lucian all but whines. You can’t help but giggle in amusement. For such a powerful creature, he’s acting as though he were a puppy. “It’s just a name.”

But it’s not just a name. Name’s are powerful. They hold history, stories, one’s very being. So, you’ll refuse him once more. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Lucian tilts his head. The slightest hint of venom tinges his tone. His slit pupils are dilated double their size, like a predator catching sight of its prey. “Tell me your name.”

Lucian’s been persistent in his efforts. Ever since you moved into a cottage deep within the forest. Unable to bear the repetitive, noisy life of your village, you left. He’s been following you ever since you moved in. He’s bound, tethered to the place. To the land. Through magical means you don’t understand. Lucian adores pestering you with questions, and inane conversation, that you’ve grown to enjoy. But above all else, he seems determined to get your name. Not that you plan to give it to him.

He makes a frustrated noise, a pout forming on his lips. “You’re so stubborn.” Lucian complains. “Just tell me. I won’t tell anyone else, I swear.”

Liar, you think fondly, It’s cute, really, the effort he puts in.

Biting your lip, you briefly contemplate your sanity. Should others find themselves in this situation they wouldn’t be as calm. They’d panic. You should panic. You should probably run for the hills. For it’s not his status as a fae that forebodes danger. He’s— Lucian is complex.

The good-natured mask he wears is just that. A mask. One he wears for you. Your relationship with Lucian is multilayered. Surface level, it is a give and take. What he gives and what you take remains unclear. Surface level, you’re companions. But that implies trust. You don’t trust him. You’re smart enough not too.

“I’m heading out to town.” You tell him. “To the market.”

Lucian huffs. He storms off like a petulant child, intelligibly whining and a pout on his face. You roll your eyes. Gathering a basket and pulling on a cloak, you step out of the cottage. The way to town isn’t marked by a path. You memorize trees and large stones. Landmarks. You trek through the woodlands, thoughts of Lucian occupying your mind.

You hold a certain fondness for him. For the little game you two indulge in. It’s an odd affection, a tired, old one. He makes you cook for him, bemoaning your atrocious mortal cuisine as he eats all of it. He follows you around the cottage with seemingly no concept of personal space. He lingers around you, as if he were a ghost and you his haunt. He entertains you. With tall-tales spun from silk. He offers you gifts in the form of odd trinkets, flowers, nuts, sometimes gems.

Lucian perplexes you. Because despite the casualness of your relationship, you’d be a fool to not be aware of the power imbalance in between the two of you. There’s something dark, dangerous. An ancient, primal magic tethering him to the cottage. To you.

You shake off your wonderings as you reach a clearing. Down, to the left is a quaint little town. It’s sparsely populated, everyone knows everyone, at least everyone who inhabits the area. Locals are wary of travellers, yet they are not so foolish to deny potential patrons business. Their market, tavern, and inn are what’s to be expected of a place such as this. It’s sufficient for your needs, though. Far be it for you to complain.

You stop by the market, examining items being sold by the vendors. As you take an apple in hand, trying to determine whether the produce is worth it’s price, a hand reaches by you. Curiously, you sneak a glance to the person it belongs to.

You’re met with the appearance of a rugged, rogue. Weary from his travels, if you’d have to guess. He gives you half-grin half-smirk that makes your insides flutter. Normally, you’d offer him a flirtatious smile. Perhaps he’d ask to take you out for the night, to the tavern. You’d drink sweet mead and suggest stopping at an inn for the night. Spend it together. Alas, the sanctity of your normal ended upon your meeting with Lucian.

“‘Scuse me, love,” he says, voice a rough timbre. It’s so different than Lucian’s smooth, honeyed lilt. You like it. “You ain’t from ‘round here, eh?”

You nimbly step aside, appreciating the view. You should leave, you know the consequences if you stay. “No.” You tell him. “I live a little ways away.”

He smiles at that. A small little grin that’s almost a smirk. What a dangerous thing, he is. He starts chatting you up. You know what he wants from you and you’re quite certain he knows what he wants from you. You should be beyond such inhibitions— but it’s been so very long since you’d indulged in a bit of fun. So you let him take you back to his inn, slip something in his beer so when he’s done and your sated, he’ll slip right off. The moment he does, you slink away, trekking through the woods back home. Most people wouldn’t, scared of the dangers lurking. But the forest knows that the true danger resides within your home, guaranteeing your safety.

The moment you make it back, Lucian appears, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Entertaining night?”

His tone is frigid and cold, almost the same as his usual indifference. But you know him better than that. “Very.” You hum. “And yet, I’m here with you.”

“Yet you’re here with me.” He parrots. The shift in his demeanour is almost imperceptible, a change so subtle it appears meaningless. You watch as he slinks away, the satisfaction of his tone lingering throughout your mind. The affirmation, to both him and you, that you were here. That you came crawling back to him. That the pull, the tether he held on your being remained tight as ever.

That you were—

Not his. You were still your own being. You let out a shaky sigh and head up to bed. You’ve had too much to drink, you tell yourself. The next morn, when you awaken, groggily blinking, something immediately feels off. After living like this— after living with him— for so long, you’ve come to understand to trust your intuition while ignoring the warning bells ringing in your head.

You head down the stairs. Your body is heavy from your hang over. It dulls your senses. You know you need to be on guard, lest Lucian have his way. Speak of the devil, you muse, as he leans on the kitchen island smugly. “Rough night?”

“Don’t.” You warn, grabbing a pot and filling it with water to boil. Lician laughs. His laughter sharp and smooth. “Forgive me, lovely.” He croons. “I do not intend to rouse that temper of yours.”

You eye him suspiciously. Of course, you’re always suspicious in regards to him, but this behaviour is odd. Odder than usual. He usually demands you cook for him, asks for your name, then huffs when you rebuff him. It’s routine and Lucian isn’t one for breaking routine. You rake over his handsome, pointed features. He sports an usual grin. Self-satisfied and almost victorious. Then, you spot a crimson splatter along the underside of his throat.

“Is there something wrong, lovely?” He inquires, tilting his head almost as if to show you the blood stained on his neck.

Don’t give in. Don’t pay attention to it. You learned early on giving in only worsens his behaviour. “No.” You answer firmly. You avoid his question, evasive and ignorant. Your ignorance serves as a shield. “I ought to make something, barely ate yesterday.”

Lucian’s eyes flicker with both annoyance and pleasure. “Make me some too.” He orders, before sauntering off.

It sends a shiver down your spine, your compliance. Barely able to deny him, yet unable to give into him. It irks him. It also pleases him. It’s a game between the two of you. One neither of you can quit. You tow the line each time, out of selfishness. The desire to be free. To be as it was. It ends in his possessive fits, with blood shed, staining your hands crimson. Yet you continue. His attention is intoxicating. As addicting as mead. It drives you mad, tantalizes you, taunts you. But you don’t give in fully. Can’t. At least, not yet.

“Come now, lovely. I know you wish to fall into temptation with me.”

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 241

Wing au? Wing Au. With perhaps a bit of a twist. Also a hint of eldritchness perhaps. For fun! 

Ghosts have wings. Sure, they aren’t normally seen, not in the visible spectrum, but they do. Scanners pick them up, and sometimes a ghost might even reveal them, which was hypothesized to be some sort of animalistic intimidation attempt. (Something more than one Amity Parker rolled their eyes at)

Everyone had seen them at least once- the motorcycle-driving ghost’s mass of shadowy feathers, the green-haired girls matching shaggy ones, the rocker’s ones that looked like pages of music before bursting into flame. Even the box ghost’s had been spotted- feathers looking more like sheets of cardboard than anything else. 

It wasn’t until the whole kidnapped to the ghost zone that anyone saw Phantom’s, but that was another tale unto itself really. Honestly the arrival of the GIW would have maybe been seen as positive before, but the fact that many of them had looked in the mirror or gone to the doctors only to find feathers beginning to sprout on their back soured it. 

Especially as the GIW continues to prattle on and on about how all ecto-contaminated scum are less than human, less than bacteria. And well, what does that make them? Them, who have been to the realms of the dead and gods and back, touched by the swirling green energy in ways incomprehensible? Changed by that energy? 

So the people silently brush hidden feathers together, quietly rebuff the white-wearing lunatics from the city as best they can, and hope to anything listening that they can stop anyone else from disappearing. That maybe they can find the few no one noticed had been taken before it’s too late, even if they have to tear down the entire government to do it. 

[heartfullofleeches]

Yandere Fae King + G.N Huntsman Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Drugging, Kidnapping, Angst

-

What’s your favorite fairytale?

You hardly remember it now. It's been so long since you've been able to kick back and think back on all those old tales you once loved. Been a while since you've been able to do anything, really. The days drain away by the second with each life you take, and the nights in wait for the next cull. Your equipment receives better care than you’ve had in years. 

If you were another person, maybe you'd seek for a change. Scrounge up every coin you earn and never looked back on this world, living free and without needless bloodshed. If only such a life was meant for a person like you. The person deserving of that dream died ages ago, on the day they learned to block out the screams. 

He..lp me…

At least… The ones that no longer mattered. 

You shift towards the source of the plea, equipping your trusty steel from the fire in which it brewed. It damaged the durability, but was the only way you could properly snuff the weakened voice. Its frightened face reflects in the flat blade of your axe; the bloodstains you weren’t able to remove marking its place as another victim to the flame. You've lost track of how many have fallen before it. At one time, you carved a mark into the handle of your weapon, but you lost the original piece for which you did so. You can’t recall if you stopped keeping track before or after that happened. 

You stalk towards your captive like the cautious hero sneaking up to the wicked wolf to save the damsel in red, yet the only one who needs saving is one of you. Your feet grow colder the closer you approach, but lost in determination is not the cause. The snowy flesh and frozen tears of your prey chills the very air to a still. It's your first run in with such a creature, but far from the last. You raise your axe high.

“Please… Have you no heart?” 

You would’ve gagged it if you had more rope. There's no reason to reply, for your eyes speak volumes. Silence rains as you bring down the axe.

-

A wet thud sounds as you toss the spoils from your kill on the ground. 

“Found this in your barn. It's what's been freezing your crops.”

The farmer's face contorts in disgust, but they keep silent as they shove your payment in your hands and slam the door shut. You hear shouting over whether who will clean up the mess you made, but that's all behind you. With their miscalculation in pay, you should be able to get a decent meal in your system along with the supplies you need. The thought was a little too hopeful as the very second you allow yourself to rest, the ghost of your past comes knocking once more. 

“Hunter.” 

A note slides across the table you sit at, sealed with crimson wax. 

“Your majesty requests your immediate attention.”

You take small bites of your food. The messenger sighs.

“Need I remind you that it's mandatory?”

“Do I have to remind you that I no longer work for that man?”

“This isn't about you or your issues with our king. It's about another.”

Their seldom glance towards the window is all you need to know. You settle your rumbling stomach with a drink of water and pour the remaining contents over the letter.

“Let's go.”

The messenger looks confused, and slightly worried. “I really think you should read-"

You quickly place your axe on the table, blueish blood embedded into the metal. “I said we're leaving. Take me to him, now.” 

-

The messenger returns to the castle pale as a sheet and with you in tow. They hand you off to a younger hire to avoid the backlash of your arrival themselves; the servant leading you directly to the king's throne with the same tactic you used on the other party. The king sits in his chair, chatting away to anyone who'll listen to his personal retellings of the past. His general expression shows fearlessness and glee, but the trained eye could see the anxiety practically dripping from this shell of a man. A fear that unsheathes itself as he turns his head towards you. Not a thing has changed since you left.

“Hunter!” The king masks his faulty start with a well placed cough as he rises to his feet, arms raised. “It's been a while, hasn’t it, old friend? I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow. We had a feast planned and everything.”

“I'm not here for pleasantries. Are you finally putting an end to this petty war or not.”

The king struggles to maintain his smile. “Ah, right. Never were one to allow yourself a break were you? Well once this task is complete, you'll have all the time in the world. We believe we've found something that will put an end to everything once and for all.”

He calls a servant to bring the item in question. It's a map. Hand drawn from what you can see. You drew one similar in your youth. 

“With the noble sacrifice of our men, we've successfully navigated a path through the cursed part of the forest and straight to the fae king’s castle. There's theory that a hidden passage exists along its walls, but we have yet to figure it out. If anyone is able to, let alone kill that creature, it would be you. We'll prepare you a steed and armor by morning-"

“I'll leave before dawn.”

The king's eyes bulge out of their sockets like you just threatened his life. “Aha, surely you jest. There's the preparations, plus wouldn't it be better to leave on a full stomach and the support of your people.”

“No.”

Your flat, direct tone cancels any further argument. “If that is what you wish… old friend. Allow my staff to escort you to your room.”

-

You settle down for the evening in a room of the king's choosing. The bed is softer than you're used to, but too foreign to provide you with any actual comfort. You don't sleep that night, thinking of the life you'll have after you bring an end to the opposing forces' rule. A happy ending isn’t in the cards for someone like you, but maybe, just maybe- you'll be able to return home.

You refuse the servant's billionth attempt at offering you a warm meal, wolf down the dinner roll you snuck in, and tried to get some sleep with the remaining time you had.

-

You're up once again before the sun can peak over the horizon. The king, reluctantly giving in to your demands, greets you at the front gates with all the equipment his guard had prepared. You pick through it, only taking a water canteen, lantern, and the shiny new axe. The king appears uneasy with your hall.

“I do not doubt your skill, but is that really all you'll take? The journey may take less than a day, but you'll need to eat and walking yourself will only lengthen that time.”

“I know the beginning of the forest like the back of my hand. I'll be fine until I reach the creek. What happens after isn’t any of your concern. There's bigger fools than me ready to play hero if I don't come back.”

“I suppose you're correct…” He holds out his hand. “For luck? …and old times?”

You toss your bag onto your shoulder as you turn your back to the man.

“Suit yourself. Goodbye, Hunter.”

-

Word of your travel reached the village due to the drunken ramblings of an unnamed, yet frightened individual. The folk that shunned you lest they need your aid all watch as you set out towards the forest. Some try to give you words of encouragement or extra support, but you’re long past the need of their help. Taking your first step into the forest you feel the first thing you’ve felt in ages. Grief. It quickly passes once you cross the threshold of burnt wood laid out along the ground.

The start of the journey is as easy as you expected and remembered. Just a pleasant stroll through the woodlands, if you ignore the warning signs and nail marks in the tree bark. Some are faded and thin, but the majority are far larger and much fresher. They’re getting bolder. Best to hurry.

You make it to the creek with a few hours of daylight to spare. The bridge across it broke when you were a child, but now you were old enough to cross straight through without the fear of being swept away. The water barely reaches mid calf when you roll up your sleeves and step in. You hear splashing from nearby, but they quickly disburse with the squeak of a small gasp. The wise ones knew to steer clear of anyone who matched your general profile. 

Crossing into the forbidden area of the forest, you expect more danger than you're met with. In this business, it's more worrying to go without danger than to be right in the middle of it. The only sounds you hear are the crunch of leaves beneath your boots – and the rumble from your stomach. 

You stop to take a break at an overturned stump. The weight of the situation is really getting to you. Normally you’re about to go at least a day or two without something to eat, but now your body was fighting just to keep upright. You check your bag to see if you had anything left over from the last time you packed. It's empty, besides a single snack cake at the bottom of the sack. And a note.

“Dearest Hunter,

I know things between us have soured over the years. Your home was taken from you in the crossfires and that is truly one of my deepest regrets. I wish the fates could have turned out differently for you, but all I can do now is offer you my prayers and this final gift in hope that you'll forgive me in another life. Know that I do not even forgive myself. In the future, I pray you are cared for well.” 

You crumble the letter and toss it back in your bag. Could be used for a fire if need be on your way back. You take careful bites of the cake. It's sweet and a bit tart, filled with some sort of jam which taste you can't put your finger on. It gets caught in your throat after you swallow the rest in one mouthful, but you dislodge it with a sip of water and continue on your way.

-

It's night by the time you make it to the castle. The snack gave you some of your energy back, but your legs still felt heavy. You bite through the fatigue and lift them high as you cross over to the unfamiliar land. You were warned of the king's carefree attitude, but you never expected it to be this lax. Not one guard manned the front gates nor the road to doors from what your blurring vision could see. The wiser choice would have been to round the back of the castle like the original plan, but the prospect of freedom and the growing headache lead you down the riskier path. 

The heaviness of your legs travels upwards with each step you take. It isn’t long before you can barely keep a grip on your axe. You want to turn back, but something keeps you moving forward. The races through the trees. Cutting firewood in the fall. You want to be the person that loved those things so dearly in the past. You wanted to be you again.

Opening the gate with a shaky palm, you fall limp in the arms of the one person who could fulfill that dream.

Welcome home, my heartless spouse.

-

When you wake you find yourself in shackles. They're loose enough to give you a taste of freedom, yet they fit around your wrists just right to condemn you to the bed you lie in. You look around the room. It's impossible to move your body. Everything is so heavy and your throat is dry. A cool towel wipes away the sweat beading down your forehead. 

“Are you finally awake? I’m so sorry for the confusion you’re likely experiencing. This was the only way we could be together with our people coming for your head.”

His hands creep up your neck. Soft, cloud-like skin more inviting than the pillow your head rests upon, but twice as cool. His eyes meet with yours, too beautiful pools of love and adoration, and so, so much sadness. Almost enough to drown out your own. You know this man. You’ve never seen his face, but you know.

“They'll come around someday. Maybe not a month. Maybe not a year, but they will. I know they will come to love this version of you just as I.”

His fingers sap the warmth from your skin. “What ever did happen to that sweet human I promised myself to ages ago? Worry not for any attempt at change, for my love for you counters any tide.” 

You close your eyes. You don't want to hear another word of what he says. His lips ghost by your ear.

“Trust is a two way street. I should start our rekindling by informing you that it wasn’t just I who willed this fate upon you, but the king of the people you gave your years to.” 

Your eyes snap open. The realization brewing gifts you the will to speak. “You're lying.”

“I wish I was. I know this hurts for now, but in the future you'll see it's the best for us all.”

Your breathing grows ragged. “You're a liar.” 

“You and I both know that what I say is true. Deep down you know that the fire that broke out that day was not an accident. It was not by coincidence that the former king came across your weakened form. He was in need of a new tool, and you were in the prime condition to become his blade.”

You grit your teeth; nails sinking into the flesh of your palms. Precious memories break from the chains you had locked them in since that day. Your peaceful upbringing in the forest, the kind man who carried you away from the flames. The same man who made you kill those who you once called friends.

“You don't belong anywhere, my love. Raised right in the middle of the battlefield, neither side has use for you besides the things you can do. We are alike in that aspect. It's probably the reason you imprinted on me when we met for that brief moment he took you away. From that very second I knew – you were my everything.”

“Stop. Talking.”

“Don't be so cruel, my dear. There surely must've been a time when even you had a heart. I know that better than anyone. I will do my best to pick up those pieces and make you whole."

You can't keep it in. The floodgates you tried so desperately to keep up burst, and the decades of misery resurface. You thrash against your binds, kicking and spitting at the man who only draws his spit covered fingers into his mouth, and smiles so warmly at you. 

“I'll kill you! I'll slaughter the people this land protects, and then I'll go after that bastard and his! I’ll kill you all and I won’t stop until I make sure every single one of you is dead. Don't fucking touch me!”

The fae king hushes you as he hooks his arms around your flailing form. He does his best to comfort you, even when one of your hits finally connects, and long after your screams turn into hoarse cries. He brushes your tears away just as he'll do someday when he takes away all your pain permanently. 

“Worry not, my broken heart. You'll get your revenge when I bring you the broken body of that man to serve as the centerpiece for our wedding. We'll rebuild your cabin and live out the remainder of our days in nothing but happiness and pure devotion. Grief will only be a bad dream by then, but for now, just rest.”

[kyujism]

average valorant relationship

nakamura kazuha x fem reader

ིྀ masterlist is right here ! genre angst kinda, drabble , pairing ? kazuha x fem reader word count 228 warnings swearing, kazuha being toxic for no reason

ིྀ a/n — i know kazuha isnt much of a gamer in lessera leave me alawnn ik its more eunchae and sakura i watched the live stream but this idea is from @cosetteco’s love life bc shes so silly

The afternoon sun cascaded through the window, I found myself seated at my desk, bored out of my mind listening to kazuha rage and scream kill yourself at the top of her lungs in a valorant lobby.

“hey zuha can you—“

“shut the fuck up im trying to play” she said coldly, she didn’t really care about you she just wanted a little bitch she could insult when the lobby got too intense.

You kept trying to make small talk since she was in-fact still your girlfriend but she kept shutting you down until she had enough. Your voice pisses her out the constant whining for attention made her poor ears want to bleed.

“stop being obsessed with me you psychotic bitch.”

without another word, she blocked me. confusion washed over me, and despite it all, I found myself typing a message, my fingers trembling against the keys.

She was usually like this but she stuck around, she never hung up or blocked me out of nowhere.

"Kazuha, please, let's talk about this," I typed, my heart racing tears started forming in my eyes.

After what felt like an eternity, a response appeared on the screen. "fuck off ure annoying."

Without another word she just left me i tried spamming her, contact her reach out to her friends but all she did was shut me down and ignore me.

+ extra stuff for no reason bc this was kinda rushed n u deserve sum stuff bc i have been inactive for a long time

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭

Fae folk had lived on this land since time immemorial, but for all the time you had lived in your little nook of the woodland, you had only seen one man brave the trail. And for his kindness to all who lay in his path, creature and legend alike, you wanted to give the hunter a gift.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ⇁ Viking!Bucky Barnes x Fae!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ⇁ 500

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ⇁ Fluff

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ⇁ I loved writing this.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ⇁ Algir — Tognatale by Warduna

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ ��𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ⇁ @the-slumberparty One Word Drabble — Masterlist

𝑾𝑰𝑳𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 ⇁ 𝒂 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐨𝐠𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The Viking had unknowingly visited your home many times before, though it seemed he did not know, nor see you, watching from the protection of a bush.

Intricately braided dark hair adorned his head, woven amongst the ink decorating his scalp and neck - a warrior’s signet, you knew. Many men who had discovered your home bore the same intricacies, but never had you seen one like him. 

The pelt of a bear covered his broad shoulders, while a flowing black cape covered the leather of his armour. Your people had been forbidden to interact with such men many, many centuries ago, you knew this, but it did nothing to abate the temptation. 

His mount, a fiery steed with four strong legs and a thick neck, snorted proudly as the man urged him towards your creek; the loud hoofbeats echoed on the rocks like claps of thunder. 

“Easy, easy,” the man soothed. His voice sounded honeyed and rich. “Not long now, boy.” 

The steed turned and stomped his hoof as the man dismounted swiftly, with grace and an elegance that you had seen only in fae folk. Bloodied pelts littered the steed’s back, as well as cuts of meat - no doubt the spoils of the man’s hunt to take back to his people. 

You watched curiously when he neared a wide part of the creek, deep enough for rocks to litter the bed, as well as your gift; a pristine animal skull, white as ivory and bleached by the power of Sol.

The man knelt on to the grassy bank of the creek, and he paused suddenly. “What is this?” 

A strong inked hand reached forward from the cloak and into the flowing water of the creek, retrieving your gift with intrigue. His eyes were as bright and blue as the sky, crisper than ice, as they roved over the skull.

You gasped quietly when his focus turned to his surroundings, his dark hair flowing from his shoulders as he peered around. “Thank you,” he said, loud enough for his voice to echo through the trees.

The steed snorted and knickered loudly, and your gaze flickered from the man’s face to his horse, only to see the horse staring right at you, its ears twitching back and forth.

“What is it, boy?” The man pondered, standing from the bank to soothe his steed. “We will be home soon.” You breathed a small sigh of relief as you watched the man gather the steed’s reins in his hand and mount up, but it was short lived, for the horse did not look away when the reins were pulled taut. 

“Koma, boy,” the man insisted, scratching at the twitching ears of his horse. “What are you looking at?” He followed his horse’s gaze and found you, peering at him through a gap in the bush. 

“Ah, there you are, little mouse. Thank you, for the gift,” he said softly. 

At the Viking’s retreat, you couldn’t help but hope you would see him again. 

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[cthulhusstepmom]

Fae!Soap Superstitious Bastard! Ghost: Gifts

(Just a heads up this got way more intense than I meant it to but that’s kind of the Fae for you.)

TW: mentions of torture, human remains

Soap is a collector, though not of any one thing that Ghost can discern. He’s seen the man pick up anything from an abandoned rolex to a nondescript piece of broken glass. It doesn’t seem to be about size, it’s not shape and definitely not value; Ghost had thought he’d pinned it down as things that caught the light a certain way but was swiftly proven wrong when Soap went on a spree of collecting pebbles and sticks. He’d glared sullenly at the first jagged gray rock when Soap had picked it up before swiftly changing the subject when he was noticed. There was no apparent rhyme or reason to any of it… well not quite. There was one singular pattern that stood out in his mind, a single thread that held firm no matter how much he rearranged or plucked at it.

 Anything that Ghost gave him, Johnny kept. 

The first had been a bit of pretty blue ribbon that was a close enough approximation to Soap’s eyes. It’d snagged on a bramble bordering the clearing where Ghost had set up for overwatch. Without even thinking he’d snagged it on his way to RV down the hill, offering it to Johnny in the armored car taking them back to base. Soap hadn’t said a thing. It was then that Ghost realized maybe giving your subordinate a piece of trash you’d found in a bush perhaps wasn’t the most well adjusted way to express affection. He’d been about to play it off with a quip, beginning to retract his fingers ever so slightly, when Johnny snatched it lightning quick from the palm of his hand, holding it close to his chest for a moment before stuffing it into his chest pocket next to his journal. Soap had given him a small strangled “Thank you” as they sat the rest of the ride in an awkward but warm silence. Johnny disappeared almost immediately after they got back to base but Ghost could see light in the space under his door so he wasn’t too worried that he’d done permanent damage to their relationship.

After that his eyes just seemed to catch on things that he assumed Johnny would like. He couldn’t help it. Little glass marbles, a river stone with an interesting marking, a large brown feather; Somehow it all made its way into the hands of his Sergeant. Usually with a gruff “Here”, barely waiting for Johnny to hold out his hands before he dropped his small offering into his gloved palms. Soap has also gotten over whatever his episode of silence had been, responding with a blinding smile and enthusiastic gratitude and a happy quip. (“Thanks Lt!” a piece of antler, Montana “Y’ shouldn’t have!” an old toy car, Finland “Find this on sale?” a scrap of pink fabric, Brazil “Ghost you’re spoiling me.” green river stone, India etc.(no he didn’t catalog all of them that would be creepy. He only wrote down his favorites.))

The next time Ghost thinks he’s permanently damaged their relationship and scared Soap off for good comes after an operation sweeping out an AQ base in Afghanistan. 

It’s stuffy and dark, the blistering heat of the day beginning to fade into the bitter chill of the night. The compound has long since been abandoned by all but the stubbornest of rats, slowly being reclaimed by the wild desert it carved its blackness into. They roll into the courtyard through the open front gate, the outer walls have seen multiple breacher charges and calling them walls at this point is more out of respect than any dedication to accuracy. The whole place has already been swept by drone and Laswell has had satellite eyes on it for months confirming just how fucking dead it is. They’re here for information, the drone identified documents left behind as well as at least two hard drives. 

The 141 has split off, each clearing their own section and radioing in at even intervals, they’ve learned the hard way that it’s better to be safe than sorry. Beyond extra caution, the whole place has an eerie, black aura that drags forth memories of scorpion stings and dull knives biting at his flesh. Assisting in his nightmarish stroll down memory lane, Ghost is assigned the lower levels of the compound. Each room is another scene from a past he tries to forget, filled with rusted over implements of pain and brown stains no one cared to clean. 

Something in the last room makes him pause. 

A small barred window allows light from a waning moon to pool into the room, catching on something on the table. Small, most no bigger than his fingernail, a collection of about five objects sits in a tray on the corner of the table. Brilliant white patches shine in stark opposition to the bed of rust brown they lay on. 

Teeth. Human teeth.

His mind is acting on autopilot when grabs them and stuffs them in a pocket, so similar but so different to his first experience with the ribbon months ago. He finishes his sweep of the room, conveying his findings back on comms (“Seems like we’re late for the party.” “If only you didn’t take so long to get ready.”-Soap “Shut the fuck up the both of you I just saw a rat the size of a terrier.”-Gaz “I’ve got the hard drives if any of you fuckers remember why we’re here.”-Price), and turns back to rendezvous, his mind now firmly on finding his comrades and getting the hell out.

As they start readying themselves to duck into the humvees they arrived in, Ghost’s muscle memory kicks in to complete his self assigned mission objective. He turns to where Soap stands almost expectantly at his side. It’s not every mission that he has something he’s decided is a worthy offering but it has become more often than not. Mind already halfway back to base, a gloved hand chases down each tooth where they’ve burrowed themselves in the pocket of his tac vest, collecting them and dropping them in Soap’s proffered hand with a grunt. His brain turns back on when the bloody bones hit his Sergeant’s glove, panicking because what the fuck did he just do? What kind of fucking sociopath gives his friend(more?) human fucking teeth as a souvenir. Much less human fucking teeth that were pulled forcibly out of some poor bastard’s skull during a bygone torture session. 

His hand is trembling. 

Ghost forces himself to look down and meet Soap’s assuredly outraged and disgusted gaze. 

Only he doesn’t.

Johnny is staring down at the teeth in his palm with a look of fucking reverence. His pupils are dilated beyond just the darkness surrounding them and Ghost’s detail oriented eyes catch the slight flare of his nostrils on every inhale. Soap slowly tilts his head up to meet Ghost’s eyes and a gasp lives and dies in his throat.

“Oh Simon, you treat me so well.” His voice is gravelly and thrumming with an emotion that Ghost doesn’t know the name of. But, god if this is the look he gets after bringing Johnny desiccated human remains?

He’ll rip the teeth out of some unworthy son of a bitch himself.

[the--rebel--fae]

Hey Fae! Do you know about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? If not, basically they are biblical concept for rooted evil in humanity and first four of seven seals for the “end of the evil world” or whatever (conquest, war, famine, and death).

Anyways, to my request! I wanted to ask to see if you’d write a paring of a FourHorseman!reader with Vox from Hazbin Hotel (and any other characters from that show if you’d like to lol)

Thank you and Gl with ur other requests!

A/N This is probably gonna happen each time I post a request since I feel horrible for making all of y'all wait. So! Big sorrys for taking so long with this but tysm for your patience! Now! On to the main a/n: Oh my friend, you have triggered an idea that is genius! Ooh this reminds me of that one episode from Charmed.--if you know which one, you totally rock. I had so much fun with this! I hope you like it too! 😊

Pairing: Vox x Strife! Four Horsemen! Reader

TW: Just swears, but that's about it.

Word Count: 814

His Little Chaos Bringer

The brick wall felt like a cool and relaxing solace as you leaned against it. Your pencil scratching furiously away in your notebook. Today had a been quite the productive day.

Though, you could have done without Blitzø's hissy fit for nearly missing the portal entry back to hell. He was complaining how you nearly cost him big time as he took you back into your main domain of the pride ring.

“You're lucky you're so damn powerful and make our jobs easier, you twerp.” He grumbled at you as he practically shoved you out of the I.M.P. van.

An amused chuckle made it passed your lips as you closed your notebook with a satisfying snap. You couldn't help that you were on a roll today with causing so many humans strife. You were the epitome of it after all being one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Your other three siblings were Lucifer knows where and you didn't really give a damn as long as they were keeping their stats up and making sure the plan stayed on track.

Your notebook was already bursting with your successes, an impressive list of names and ways you affect them filled its yellow time worn pages. And that was only today.

Looking around at stretch of land that was the V's part of Pentagram City you let out a tired sigh. You loved what you did, you really do. But after a long day of causing misery, all you wanted to do was collapse in a comfy chair and just relax as you listened to your boyfriend boast about his day.

The brief silence that filled the air in the little alleyway you were taking a break in was quickly broken by the sound of your ringtone: The Flight of the Valkyries–little on the nose but you were always a fan of the classics.

You glanced at the caller ID and grinned. “Well, ask and ye shall receive I guess.” Clicking answer, you couldn't keep the smile out of your voice. “It's like you just knew I needed to talk to you. Should I add telepathy to the list of your talents?”

A deep chuckle. “Well hello to you too Doll. Rough day I take it?”

You leaned your head back against the wall and felt the satisfying thump of cool brick against the back of your head. “Not hard, just very long. Apparently causing misery for a living can drain someone a lot.”

“Why don't you come back home to the tower and I'll see what I can do to help get some pep back in your step hmm?”

A smirk played at your lips. You definitely didn't miss the innuendo in that sentence. “Sounds perfect actually. I'll be there in five.”

A pleased hum could be heard on the other line. “Looking forward to it Doll. See you soon.”

“See you soon, Vox.” The call ended seconds after.

Pushing forward you felt your muscles stretch out in relief. A spark of excitement and contentment ran through you. Sometimes it paid to be the romantic partner of one of the strongest overlords and a tech genius like Vox. No matter how busy the two of you were, you were always able to make time for each other at the end of the day.

***

As the elevator door to Vox's penthouse suit swished open, a tired smile was brought to your lips at the sight before you. In front of the blue satin couch, on the table laid a beautiful–and frankly absolutely mouth watering dinner with two champagne flutes filled with wine.

“I take it you like the surprise?”

You let out a pleased hum and walk forward. "What do you think?" Wrapping your arms around Vox's neck, you lightly bumped your forehead against the top of his screen. An amused giggle passed your lips as you watch Vox's screen take on a light rosy hue around where his cheeks are supposed to be.

"Well, I'm glad you like it, my little chaos bringer." Vox gave you a soft peck on the lips. His kisses always left you with a tingling feeling--probably thanks to the fact that he is a literal tv, but you couldn't help but want more. Maybe at a later time, the night was still young after all.

"You know exactly how to make a gal feel special don't ya?"

Vox pulled away from your grasp and gave a wink. "Doll, you're special no matter what."

You couldn't help the snort that passed your lips. "Wow, cheesy much?"

Vox just waved you off. "What? I was just trying to be romantic!"

A fond smile pulls at your lips. You were probably one of the most powerful beings in Hell seeing who you were, but if this was the life you got to come back to everyday? It's all worth it.

A/N that was so much fun to write. I truly enjoyed this request! Feel free to request again! I hope you enjoyed it!

And if you guys want even more stories--like maybe your own personalized several-page long one-shots or even a multi-chap fic take a look at my Etsy Shop! I do commissions! I even have listings for Hazbin Hotel!

[faeflowerz]

The First Years Crushing on their Upperclassman (PT 1)

I think it'd be cute. Besides, the first years are absolutely adorable and I would die for them. I would. They're honestly my favorite group bc of how well they play off of each other.

Warnings: Characters thirsting for people older than them, Me thirsting for anime boys in general

Characters: Deuce, Ace, Jack

Deuce having a crush on his upperclassmen would be pretty adorable. He's already fidgety around girls so when he's got a crush on someone, it will show. He remembers how it happened. Deuce was running late for homeroom and crashed into you, sending all your stuff scattering to the floor. He's apologizing over and over again as he helped you pick everything up. Then, he bowed and you giggled. Deuce is so serious sometimes and you find it cute. You patted his head, letting your hand linger just a bit as you considered how soft his silky hair is. "It's fine, sweetie."

From there, he's a mess any time he interacts with you. Sweaty, blushy, tongue tied, the works. You'd think it was a romance anime with the way he's acting.

"U-uh, senpai, I w-wanted to ask if...you could tutor me sometime? I mean...well..."

"Senpai! I g-got this from the Mystery Shop! You don't have to accept it if...huh? You will?"

"If...you're not busy...I have a track meet after school...if you'd like to come..."

Yes, our usually bold n brash recovering delinquent is really into you. And you stand there smiling and waiting patiently for him to make it through his sentences. You've started to crush on him too, actually. He's always so passionate and earnest and admittedly, you had been checking him out long before you officially met. It's Deuce that confesses first, but he blurts it out as if he'd explode if he didn't.

Ace is shameless with his crush on Senpai. We expect nothing less from him. His boyish charm is insanely attractive and it carries him for the most part. Light brushes of your arm, winking at you and some other stuff I'm sure he asked his brother for advice on. He's had a gf before so this should be easy, right? Right?

HAH! His senpai is going to make him work for it. You volley back a lot of his flirting, and when you're unexpectedly playing the same game, he's speechless. Your touches linger, you get into his personal space, you talk to him like he's a clumsily little boy. It's all maddening and exciting to him.

"Ace, you know better than to talk to me like that. Did you talk to your lil girlfriend that way too?" You purr softly as you tug lightly on his tie. Now, he's blushing so hard that his heart tattoo nearly matches the rest of his face. Personally, I hc that ADeuce are into older people/attractive to older people respectively. Like I said, their boyish personalities are just too fuckin cute.

Ah, anyways, Ace is speechless and it's you who finally confesses. He's your new pet and training him is the best part of your relationship.

Jack crushes on his upperclassmen and it's literally puppy love. He thinks the way you carry yourself is inspirational. You breeze through the school with your head held high and secretly, Jack thinks youre cooler than Leona. When you brush past him once, he's particularly interested in the way you smell. I think he's into scents. He's gotta be. Anyway, if it's shampoo, cologne or just your natural body, Jack is really really into it. So much so that he knows where you are pretty often. Sometimes he follows you or his tail wags when he's doing something else. Like, literally you turn the corner before he comes into the hallway and his ears are alert and he's sniffing the air. Very low key about it though.

So the period goes fine until you're listening to instructions. Jack's by your side and Vargas is going on and on. You're bored to tears until you feel something twhap twhap twhapping on your butt. You nearly jump out of your skin until you realize that nobody's behind you. Is it a ghost? They like to bother people during gym the most.

He must get closer to you. The scant scent trails aren't enough. When you officially meet, its through a crossover class for PE. You're not abysmal, but having a good buddy for the period would be essential. Before you can assess who you want, Jack is awkwardly standing next to you. "Do you...need a partner?" And when you say yes, you see his eyes light up. Was he...surprised that you agreed?

Until you subtly glance behind you. Jack's tail is hitting you! Its so fucking cute that you stifle a laugh. He heard you and it clicks that he was thumping your ass. Once Vargas shuts up, Jack is trying to find a way to apologize to you but you stopped him. "It's alright, I'm not upset. Besides, it makes me happy to see you excited. You like being around me, don't you?"

"...Yeah...I kind of do..." when you reach out to pat his head, he's surprised and extremely flustered. "H-huh?!"

"You're such a good boy, Jack. I like being around you too." From there, you seal the deal even though he sort of confesses first.

[faerietells]

Just like any other noble ladies, you’re perfectly aware that you would never marry for love. Not even your older brother did, so why would you? This is your duty, after all— while your eldest brother would be the Lord of your House and your younger brother would take the cloak as a knight, your duty is to forge powerful alliance with another noble House, possibly a stronger House than your own. Marrying for love is wonderful, but love might not be there forever. You might be happy, yes, but for how long? Your House’s legacy, on the other hand, would outlast you and nothing is more important than that. So as much as you have complaints about the arrangements your parents had made with the King, you spoke nothing of it, knowing that this not only will give your House a powerful ally, but also would secure your position in history if you play your cards right.

Your betrothed, King Kaius, had been crowned not even a year ago but as far as royals go, you could confidently say that he’s one of the most infamous Kings in history. The Kingdoms are divided after the war between him and the late King Galen— some thought he did what was needed to be done as his brother was too weak of a King while the other deemed him dishonorable for even thinking of doing such thing. But truth be told, although public opinion does matter to you, at this moment you find yourself caring about something else.

Everyone knows about the war between the two brothers and how it ended, but what remains a mystery is the motives behind your betrothed’s decision to start his rebellion. That’s what truly interests you as it might tell you what kind of man Kaius truly is.

As far as your research went, there are a lot of conflicting accounts regarding his motives. However, most people believe that he did what he did simply because he wanted the throne as he is the eldest son. All of your friends believe that was the case as well; even now, each of them is giving you this sympathetic look as you are seated next to your future husband. But if they are right, then why does he not look as though he enjoys his current position?

You let out a soft, faint sigh before you take a sip of the wine in your glass, trying your best to ignore that gnawing feeling on your stomach. You don’t like this. As much as you like the fact that you’d be the Queen of one of the most powerful King in history, you’d also wished to be married off to someone that’s easy to figure out, not a man full of mystery like him. How can you be sure that you’d be able to work well with him when you don’t even know the first thing about him? A marriage where the couple ignored each other’s presence after producing an heir is not unheard of, but you’d hoped that although your marriage wouldn’t be one built from love, but at least it’d be a strong partnership and you can’t have that if you can’t even begin to understand him.

“Are you displeased, my Lady?”

You nearly choked, not expecting your future husband to speak to you at all. As you turned your head to him, you realized that he’s looking at you intently. How long has he been staring? You offered him a small smile in attempt to be polite, but his face remains neutral, his haunting, serpent-like icy blue eyes offer you no insight to what he might be thinking or feeling.

“Of course not. Why should I be displeased?” you asked, feigning ignorance in hope he would just nod and move on. Unfortunately to you, he doesn’t seem to be interested to do any of that.

“Because you’d be married to me.”

The contrast between the two of you is hard to miss as soon as those words left his mouth. You’re absolutely flustered, the bluntness of his words had caught you off guard as you’re not used to such honesty, especially from a nobleman you barely even know while he just looks indifferent, seemingly thinking that he’s only stating facts and thus there’s no reason to make a big deal out of it. If anything, his eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion when he sees how you silently scrambled to find a proper response to what he said.

“Am I mistaken?” he questioned, his head tilted slightly like a confused puppy. “You were sighing, so I assumed—”

“No, no,” you said quickly to stop him from jumping to any conclusions. He’s not entirely wrong, of course, but you were taught not to express dismay openly, especially when it comes to situation like this. So, instead of telling him what you’re truly thinking, honeyed words left your mouth in hope that it’d appease him. “I am merely tired, my King. It’s been a long day, but I do enjoy spending time with you,” you lied smoothly, adding a sweet smile by the end of your sentence to make it seem truthful.

He said nothing else, but he still stares at you and the confusion in his eyes is slowly replaced by this cold, displeased look that chilled you to your bone. Only after that did he look away, leaving you wondering if you had said something wrong. Is he displeased by this arrangement? Perhaps the reason why he’d asked you that question was because he was trying to see if you feel the same, but how can you be sure? He’s so hard to read for you. It’d honestly be better if he’d boasted about his many exploits because then at least you’d figure out a thing or two about him but he’s so quiet and curt with his words that it doesn’t offer you much insight about him as a person and so you have no clue how to handle this properly. You know one thing for sure, though; your father would definitely kill you if this betrothal falls through so you need to do something about this.

“Do you not enjoy parties, Your Majesty?” you decided to start another conversation with him, hoping to salvage your betrothal before he decided to cancel it. You don’t know if he actually would, but you’d be a fool if you don’t consider that as a possibility, especially after he’d looked at you with such disdain.

“No,” he replied without even looking at you. In fact, he’s not even looking anywhere, he just stares off to the distance while he rests his chin on his knuckles as if bored by this entire celebration. Perhaps small talk isn’t the way, then, you noted in your mind.

“Do you not wish to be married to me?” you decided to ask a bolder question, ignoring how your own heart sank to the deepest pit of your stomach as the question left your mouth. It’s against what you’ve been taught— you were always taught to figure out and charm others, not ask questions that could possibly jeopardize your betrothal. If he said no, what then? But you’re at your wits’ end and he clearly doesn’t respond well to flattery or small talks so you figured that perhaps he’d respond better to bold questions like these.

Luckily for you, it seems that you were right.

Although his expression is still hard to read, he gives you his full attention as he turns his head to you. He didn’t answer the question right away, instead he stares at you for a moment, his fingers tapped against the table in a certain rhythm while he observes you. “What do you think? Do you think I disagree with this betrothal?” he questioned calmly and yet it still caught you off guard as you don’t expect him to respond with another question.

“I think…” you hesitated, feeling conflicted whether you should answer bluntly or not. You’ve gone this far and judging from how your question seems to really intrigue him, perhaps being straightforward is the best way to go when talking to him. “Yes, I think you’re displeased by this arrangement.”

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, nodding slowly as he contemplates you answer.

“Are you?”

“I am neither pleased nor displeased by the arrangement,” he tells you honestly to answer your initial question. “But it is our duty so what I think or feel doesn’t matter, does it?”

You stare at him in disbelief, taken aback by his words. When you heard about him from the rumors, you’d think he’s the power hungry, self-serving type of man and yet here he is, showing you that he’s someone that puts duty first before even his own happiness. Why did he take the throne from his own brother, then? Was he made to do it? His answer somehow left you with more questions than before and you’re not sure how to feel about that.

However, despite the fact that he’s still an enigma to you, you also can’t deny that his answer really resonated with you. You think the same way, as you were raised to put duty before all else, even at the cost of your own happiness. Perhaps the two of you have more in common than you had previously thought and even if your marriage would not be a loving one, there might be a chance to at least have an understanding between the two of you. That thought alone comforts you more than all else and for the first time since your betrothal was decided, you feel at ease.

“My answer seems to really please you,” he noted, the way you seemed to be more relaxed didn’t miss his attention.

“You are a mystery to me, my King—” you paused, noticing how the corner of his mouth twitched slightly as he tries to stifle a smile. Huh. Perhaps he does like it better when you speak plainly to him rather than attempting to flatter him. “But” you continued, “I have hopes that perhaps we could understand each other. So perhaps even if our marriage will not be a loving one, we could still be partners?”

“That sounds lovely. I’d like nothing more,” he said with nothing but sincerity in his voice.

A delighted smile formed on your face when he gently clinked his glass to yours, signifying the beginning of your partnership with him. You still have a lot of questions about him, but for now, you couldn’t be more pleased by how things turn out.

Perhaps this arranged marriage wouldn’t be such a disaster, after all.

[sparkle-fiend]

A Bargain Made in Winter

I expanded on my fae!Eddie drabble a little bit and posted it on AO3 here.

[frostironfudge]

Keep My Secret - (Bucky x Reader x Steve)

Summary: The search for Bucky and Steve is shrouded in darkness, will you find the light and the loves of your lives?

my entry for @the-slumberparty 's week one i spy challenge, i had the theme isolation and setting fairy tale and this is what i came up with, hope you enjoy it! ‘Leather cuffs’ and ‘bouquet of flowers’ were also prompts.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: dark setting, allusions to future dub-con (none explicitly described or stated), isolation, kidnapping, dark magical elements, dark character and one soft dark character (i'm not saying who is who because i don't want to give it away), allusions to torture, wounds mentioned, mind control, power dynamics, dark fae magic.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader x Steve Rogers

Main Masterlist || AO3

The scent of rain soaked mud slowly clambers up the endless walls. You do remember the word for it, the grogginess around your mind isn’t clearing. Otherwise you’re sure you would know. 

A rumble in the distance followed by a louder boom. You hear a cough followed by a groan. The presence is familiar. The darkened room seldom aids your half mast gaze. 

Dull aches finally register along your temple and cheekbone. When your fingers reach out the remembrance sets in, leather cuffs. Binds that tie you to this fate. Another groan, your head lols towards it. You whimper as you recognise him despite the state of his body. 

“B-bucky?” You call out, his head snaps up, then he groans yet again. 

Bucky shakes off the pain, enhanced vision allowing him to trace you across the circular room. Strands of his now long hair fall back. Months. Months spent locked in this tower. Months since he was gone and asked you not to follow. 

His brows furrow, there was something different today in the tower and it wasn’t the petrichor. Cobwebs still decorated the ceilings, dust settled in around objects. The table with familiar tools is the only clean surface, and there lay coated in the softest of dew drops—bougainvillaeas. Tied with a leather string. Bucky’s eyes find you again. The flowers held meaning to you. Currently the bouquet symbolises you. 

“Malyshka (baby).” 

You look back at him from the floor. The flash of lightning outside illuminates him. Blue eyes full of worry, crimson coats his skin. It felt as if eons since you heard the endearment from his lips. 

“What have they done?” You beg to know, “Bucky, where have you been? I, I—,”

“Malyshka, I told you not to follow me.” He sighs, on his knees making his way towards you. The chain tugs on his arm when he attempts to touch your face. 

“You were gone, you promised and you were gone. Just like he did. I had to find you. We’ll get out.” You assure him, you had a plan, you had the tracker. Sam would find the two of you. “Then we’ll find him, we will all return home.”

“Malyshka, we are—,”

The door opens, cutting off Bucky’s reply. 

Fresh flame torches carried in by the soldiers in black and red replace the burnt out ones on the walls. The stone illuminated with an orange glow. The flames flicker as the only window allows wind into the room. They leave the door open. 

A larger figure walks in, a mask covering his face, a mane of dark hair surrounds him. 

“Did you like my present?” he questions, the voice carries an echo of foreign familiarity, his large palm moving to cradle Bucky’s head, fisting in his hair. Bucky’s jaw clenched. 

“Hmm, this hair suits you better. A reminder of glorious days.” The man hums. 

“I have no need for presents.” Bucky spits out and the man tsks. 

“The gift of flowers was for her, you need to be more appreciative. I remember you being more affectionate.” The man sighs, fingers running through Bucky’s hair, almost intimate. Your brows furrow. The brunette turns his head away away, then a slap echoes through the room, “Be respectful, Soldat.” 

Bucky spits out the iron laced saliva pooling in his mouth. 

You look at the flowers, one of your lesser known favourites. Only two people knew the meaning the flowers held for you. 

Your eyes widen at the HYDRA symbol on the man’s back. He turns to you. The mask hides his identity and unease pools in your stomach as you stare at the void blackened eyes of the mask. 

“Tell me then,” the man squats before you, gripping your chin harshly, you cry out as his gloved fingers dig into the cut along your jaw, “I asked you a question, did you not like flowers, mo chridhe (my heart)?” 

Bucky closes his eyes as your accusing gaze meets him, then back to the masked man. The dark laughter echoes around the room and cracks your heart into pieces. 

He squishes your cheeks together, your tears pool over his fingers, trailing down the glove to his wrist. 

“Ste-Steve?” You ask, he shakes his head, taking off his mask. The beard on him familiar, his hair longer, indicating the time of him being gone. However the blue eyes you fell in love with and saw your future in are now surrounded by a thin ring of silver. 

The lips belong to Steve but the smile is no longer warm, it only sends a cold chill through you. 

“B-bucky, what—,” You sputter, Steve’s grip tightens. 

“Are you going to tell her, baby?” He quirks a brow, lazily looking back at Bucky. 

Bucky’s shoulders shake, lips trembling. He meets your eyes with tear stained cheeks. 

“He isn’t, he isn’t our Steve.” 

Your widened eyes move back to him, no, it can’t be, Steve is, Steve is supposed to, what has HYDRA done to him?

“Oh mo chridhe, your shared Steve’s long gone, but fret not. I will make sure the two of you are cared for, like my own sweet little pets. I remember everything your Stevie did and had done to him by the two of you. Mmm, wrapped around me, wrapped around Bucky. You are quite the sight.” He smirks, eyes alight with a mirth you cannot find yourself in this bleak tower. 

“Who are you?” You question as he releases you, “you aren’t Steve, Bucky, this isn’t, no. Please we have to fight him! We have to find Steve!” You plead. 

Steve shifts, you then see it, Bucky’s missing arm. How had you not noticed? You look around the tower. Flashes pass through your mind, the forest, the mist, and the torn wings. The sobbing man. Pleading for help. 

The flash of blonde and blue. The call of help from brunette and azure.

You gave the hunched over man in pain your name. 

“Why, I’m Steve Rogers of course. He’s James Barnes and you are Y/N Y/L/N. You should never give the fae your name but shh, my little play things,” Steve cups your head and Bucky’s, “Those little soldiers outside know me as Hydra Supreme. So let's keep this little secret between us three. Hmm?” He raises a brow, then chuckles at your hurt expressions, eyes crinkling and reminding you so much of your Steve. 

“Oh cmon, you look at me as if I killed your little Stevie. Maybe I did, but I will make you forget, I’ll let you rule, well atleast beneath me.” He leans closer, lips brushing against Bucky’s chapped lips and then your busted one, he licks the stray traces of blood humming, “What do you say then my pets?” 

“If you think for one second we’re going to agree with you you second rate, fucking asshole—,” Bucky’s eyes glow silver, his words cut off, “I want to rule under you, Sire.” 

“Please, not Bucky, please, don’t we, Steve, please we—we will rule under you, Sire.” Your words aren’t your own, you watch on as Steve smiles pleased with the two of you. 

“Such good pets, I will allow the two of you to feel pleasure tonight but after I’ve had my fill. It’s going to be a long night.” He turns away, releasing the glamour from Bucky. 

Bucky blinks, the silver disappearing for a moment from his eyes. He stares down at his arms, both flesh and metal and then at you with your eyes gleaming silver. 

“Steve.” He says in warning, “She doesn’t deserve this, please reconsider. I know we wanted her all to ourselves but I can’t strip her of her will.” 

The blond clicks his tongue, eyes narrowed at his lover, “I do not appreciate you disregarding every single bit of my sacrifice for you two, James. Do not force me to stoop low for you too.” He turns walking towards the table, picking up the flowers. 

“You already have,” Bucky shakes his head, gently cradling your face, your eyes vacant, “I’m so sorry, Malyshka.” 

Steve’s jaw clenches, anger coursing through his veins. The flowers fall to the floor, stems broken, petals scattered. Bucky turns, reaching for the gun in his holster. 

“You shouldn’t have given me your name, James Barnes. You little humans, your love shall be your undoing.” Steve waves a hand, Bucky lands on his knees. 

Dust rising around the two of you, gleaming collars forming around your and Bucky’s necks, chains attached and held in Steve’s palm. 

“Now, crawl to your king, my pets.” His menacing smile widens as you both fall on all fours.

-x-

[kyujism]

09. shes kinda fine — caught cheater

nakamura kazuha x reader

caught cheater !

prev masterlist next

taglist: open! comment or ask to be added @thefckghost @jjangblog @cosetteco @flolio @minjeongswife @ellivadfr @lilacurvy @r4cjh @zuhaazana @pandafuriosa60 [1/3] if ur username is in bold then i cant tag u for some reason! :(

authors note: for @kazuhatheloml ohmyod i posted this js for this poor woman bc she is genuinely tweaking😅😅😅 I HAD TO EDIT ALL THIS RLLY QUICK BC I JUST HAD THE POSTS READY. fei u make me shake my boots in fear

synopsis: Y/n the little sister of irene was in with the popular kids she had friends. She even had a girlfriend, jang wonyoung. But then appeared this new girl. Nakamura Kazuha she was a beautiful ballet dancer as she heard. Y/n was furious although the new girl found y/n quite cute. What will happen with y/n’s relationship with wonyoung? what will her friends think about this new student?

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

List 72, prompt 5, and list 74, prompt 2. Pairing: hyunlix x reader, please!

Prompts: "Are those...bite marks?"

"You have to do your part, sweetheart. This goes both ways."

Members: Hwang Hyunjin, Lee Felix

Relationship: Fae Healer!FemReader x Hunter!Hyunlix

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Suggestive

Warnings: Injuries, Gore, Blood, General Predicaments of Various Unwellness (all the important people survive, don't panic),

You should be used to wounded fae stumbling through your door at all odd hours of the night, dripping blackening blood onto your floor, urgently seeking your profession's skills.

But there's still something about the pair of fae that crash through your front door tonight, one of them supporting the other, both covered from head to toe in some sort of gore and damp with rain, that catches you completely off guard.

The storm howls outside the open door, and still, you stand, staring at them like a new fawn, entirely shocked and shaken to your core, watching them drip a mixture of blood and rainwater onto your perfectly clean floor.

The blonde one-well, the blonder one-the one not currently being held up by the other, but the one doing the holding, moves into motion first, staring at you with something akin to almost open amusement in his gaze as he heaves the other man toward the nearest available surface, which just so happens to be your kitchen table.

He lays the other man down, who groans long and low at the jostlement, and turns to you, hands on his slender hips.

Gods, have you ever seen a waist so tiny? You don't think so.

Your mouth suddenly waters.

"You're a healer, correct?"

You pull yourself from your weirdly distracted thoughts and realize the man has been addressing you this entire time. You shake your head and instantly snap your gaze to his.

"Yes." You nod, and hurry to the table where the injured man still lies in a crumpled heap, suddenly transitioning into business mode as you bustle about, gathering basic supplies. "What happened?"

The standing man leans against the edge of the table, seemingly entirely unphased by both his companion's pained groaning, and your frantic flurry.

"Little run in with the wrong crowd." The man supplies vaguely with a slight shrug, and your fingers pause in their search of the dozens of bottles on your shelves as you glance over your shoulder at him incredulously.

He shrugs again.

"We've both seen worse."

You seriously doubt that, considering his friend is currently bleeding out on your kitchen table, but you bite back your retort and gather the rest of your supplies in tense silence.

Your mother had always warned you your sharp tongue and rash nature would get you into trouble some day, and you didn't doubt it, but at the time, her beatings had seemed like trouble enough.

You dump the armful of salves, herbs, and relics onto the table beside the other man and reach for another basket full of wound bandages, carefully curated earlier that morning.

You glance to the man standing beside the table, the frighteningly unbothered one, and then down to the other man lying on the table.

They're both wearing dark, black clothing, laced with straps and vests. You catch the hint of a dagger peeking from beneath the standing man's shirt, and you don't doubt that they're both absolutely covered in hidden weapons, though that fact doesn't seemed to have done the wounded fae much good.

You almost snort in amusement at the thought, but clear your throat instead and glance down once more to the injured fae in front of you.

There is dark blood still seeping from somewere you can't quite track because of his black clothing worn head to toe, and as you watch it puddle on the floor at your feet, you suddenly have a terrifying thought.

You don't know where to begin.

The lighter blonde leans onto the table, watching you with a sharp gaze. When he speaks, his words are slightly taunting in a way that make you itch with irritation.

"Aren't you going to, you know-" He shrugs and gestures to his friend with an arched, cocky brow. "-heal or whatever?"

"Yes, just give me a minute." You snap back testily before you can stop yourself, clamping your teeth down on your lips immediately when you realize your tone.

You don't know who these mysterious men are. They're clearly higher station than you are, dressed to the nines and touting expensive weapons, and you don't know what they could have done to you if you mouth off.

They could have you tortured. Or exiled. Or-worse.

You shudder at the thought, but the fae standing across from you doesn't seem angry, or even perturbed, by your sharp, out of line retort. In fact, if anything, he looks-amused?

He crosses his arms over his chest with a slight smirk. "Okay, you're the healer here. Just thought we might want to help him before he bleeds out all over your kitchen floor you know?"

You ignore his clear jibe and hold out a hand without looking up at him, your gaze scanning the fae lying still now on the table, assessing him how you've been trained to do.

His pulse and breathing are erratic, but that's normal, he's probably in shock. If you can find and stop the bleeding-

You glance up as your open hand remains empty and the man across the table continues to stare at you blankly.

You force down your irritation and motion with a jerk of your chin to the small table next to the kitchen sink, and coincidently to his left.

"Hand me a knife please."

A slight smile ticks the corner of his mouth at your obvious distaste in the polite word, but he reaches over and hands you a knife without so much as a word.

You thank the gods for that at least.

Turning back to the wounded fae, who you're fairly certain is unconscious by this point, you carefully begin to cut down the line of his fine tunic, tearing the fabric with nimble fingers to reveal his chest.

It's a shame to ruin such a pretty frock, but you're sure they have dozens more just like it.

Your eyes beg to get stuck on the defined ridges of the male fae's abdomen, the v of his lean, toned muscles where they disappear into the waistband of his breeches, but you focus, grounding yourself with running through a list of herbs that might be helpful, no matter what the wound, as you continue to shear through his tunic.

Marigold. Fane's Bane. Tempter's Snare. Lilac of Sumac.

Your thoughts come to a brief halt as your hand stills, your lips parting on a sharp inhale of breath at the sight of the man's torn lower ribcage.

You're absolutely gob smacked at the extent of the wound bared before you, entirely caught off guard that it hadn't torn the side of his fine tunic to tatters just like his skin.

The reddened gleam of muscle stares back at you, the blood sluggishly still sliding down the table and to the floor, and a hint of white bone flashes where it sticks through the tattered skin.

Or what's left of it.

The man across the table takes notice of your sudden freeze, and he leans over to get a better sight of what you're looking at.

A low whistle escapes his plush lips.

"Fuck. That's a nasty one." He exhales in a mutter, and you glance up at him, appalled at his obvious lack of concern and the blatant almost impressed lilt to his words.

You grab the mortle and pestle from where you placed it earlier, and begin to shred herbs into the bowl, working so quickly your hands are a blur, the motions almost automatic.

You have to stop that bleeding. And fast.

You pound the mixture into a pulp, then reach for a small decanter full of sparkling, shimmering liquid, and carefully pouring a tiny amount of the Moon Water into the bottom of the bowl with the rest of the herbs, you stir diligently until it resembles a thick, blue tinged paste.

Breathing out a harsh breath, you set aside the pestle and scoop the salve into the palm of one hand.

You're aware the fae across from you is watching your every move carefully, but there's no room in your mind for him right now.

Not when you're fairly certain his friend's life hangs in the balance.

Carefully, you pinch the ripped skin together as best you can, covering the gleaming bone and slick muscle, and smooth the paste slowly and thoroughly over the gaping hole in the male fae's side.

He gives a pained groan in response, and you know he's still unconscious, but you also know that this particular treatment stings like a bitch.

Pressing the palm of your hand down harder, so the salve seeps between your spread fingers and into all facets of the wound, you start to mutter the incantation beneath your breath that will stitch the skin back together.

The words flow over your tongue like water, familiar and sure, and beneath your palm, you feel his ribs begin to shift back into position, his muscle kneading itself right again, the skin pulling closed under your fingers.

You can feel the drain on your reserves with each word whispered, but you don't stop, not until the wound has all but closed, leaving nothing but a fresh, angry, red scar against his tan skin.

Pulling back with a sigh, you reach up with the back of your hand and swat aside a stray, irritant hair, before you glance at the other fae.

He's watching you with an odd look on his face, that disappears as soon as your eyes meet his.

You ignore the weird, low burn in your gut and wiping your messy hand on a nearby rag, lean low over the table, putting your ear close to the wounded-now healed-fae's lips.

You listen, taking stock of his rhythmic, even breathing, the slowing of his pounding heart, and feel instant relief soothe over your tired, stretched body.

He's okay.

"You know, if you wanted to kiss me, love, all you had to do was ask." A low, guttural voice rumbles hoarsely, and you start in surprise, your eyes snapping up to the once unconscious man's dark gaze, now staring right at you with a slight smirk on his full lips.

You realize then that you're incredibly too close to his face still, and instantly shove back from him, creating space between the two of you.

He chuckles, wincing slightly as the sound pulls at his newly healed ribs, and the blonder man steps forward then, slapping his hand into the other's with familiar camaraderie and slowly pulling him into a sitting position on the table, ignoring his slight groan of pained protest.

"Glad to have you back." The irritatingly cocky one says, and the one on the table gives him half a grin.

"Can't get rid of me that easily."

Both their gazes flit to you and you realize you're staring, trying to puzzle them out.

You quickly look away and move to start cleaning up your supplies, placing everything in it's acquired place, studiously avoiding their curious gazes, following your every move.

Finally, you've had enough of their silent perusal, and you turn, placing your hands stubbornly on your waist as you glare them both down.

"Well? Are you going to sit there or are you going to clean up the absolute mess you've made of my kitchen?"

You motion to the blood still dripping slowly and surely from the lip of the table, but all the standing man is chuckle, pulling up the other with a heave of effort so they're both on their feet.

Your glare doesn't waver, though you suddenly realize with a jolt that the previously wounded fae is still shirtless.

You resist the urge to let your eyes drop down the length of his hardened body, but only barely, and curse yourself as he gives you an arched brow and knowing smirk in return.

"Actually-" The annoying pain in the ass with the lighter hair says, reaching for his discarded bag and stepping toward the door. "-we have to be on our way."

You scoff, outrage filling your belly like a fire, and leap forward to slam the door shut once more as he pulls it open a mite to reveal the still howling storm outside.

"Really?" You growl out, staring up at him, trying to ignore how much taller he is then you, staring down, watching you like some predator assessing a future prey. You ignore the heat that thought lights in your belly. "I saved your friend's life and not even a thank you? Don't they teach you upper classes manners or some other useless shit for a situation like this?"

The man's eyebrow tics up at your words, but you don't think it's in surprise, and when he laughs, you realize you were right.

He's amused by you.

Like you're some sort of pet meant to entertain him with tricks.

The thought makes your insides sear with rage, and before you know what you're doing, you've balled your hand into a fist and moved to swing it right into the middle of his gut.

There's that impulsive side of you again.

Your mother is probably rolling in her grave right now.

As quick as lightning, the man catches your fist so easily it's pathetic, and you struggle against his hold, his long fingers on your wrist, as the other man gathers his own gear and watches on curiously.

He doesn't make a move to intervene.

"Let me go." You spit out on a hiss like an angry, cornered cat, and something akin to challenge flashes in the man's dark eyes as he leans toward you.

"No, I don't think I will." He practically purrs, and you want to rip his throat out with your teeth, wipe the lazy, confident smirk right off his perfect face.

He crowds into your space, and your back hits the wall beside the door.

"As for a 'thank you-'" He muses, reaching up to twirl a strand of your messy hair around his finger, and it takes everything in you not to bite said digit off. His gaze flicks down to your mouth and back up again, as if he knows what you're thinking. "-I don't know if you're quite ready to receive all that our gratitude entails just yet, little bird."

"Don't call me that." You spit out, but he merely laughs, releasing you and moving to the now open door beside the other waiting man.

He cocks his head and gives you a slight smirk, and you don't know if it's luck or fate, but in that moment, the lightning flashes, illuminating his handsome face and the dark, swirl of his eyes.

Something inside of you shudders at the sight.

"We'll be seeing you around, little bird. I'll make sure of that."

And then, another blink of lightning, and they're gone.

************************************************************************

The second time they come through your door in the middle of the night, there's less blood than the time before, but definitely a more generous plethora of colorful words that weren't used before, heating your ears and turning them red.

The one who was hurt last time closes the door behind him, and you scan him quickly, assessing silently, as the cocky one from before continues to swear low and steadily, settling into a chair in front of your small fire without so much as a lick of invitation.

You heave a sigh, biting back the irritation itching beneath your skin, and put your hands on your hips, bouncing your gaze between them.

"You know, you can't just barge in here whenever you please-"

The blonder one swears, more harshly this time, and shoots you a glare that doesn't quite hit when his features contort with a grimace of pain halfway through, his fingers flinching where they rest against the side of his throat.

"Save the lecture, birdie. I'm fucking on fire here."

You stare at him, shooting him a glare of your own in response, another retort on your lips, but the sharp words die on your tongue as soon as you see the dark tinged blood trickling from between his fingers.

You instantly jump into healer mode, hurrying to him and prying his fingers away from his neck in one smooth movement.

He hisses in pain, flinching as you tear his fingers away from the wound, and you gasp, eyes going wide as you glance at the injury once more, and then to the other man, standing nervously beside the fire, playing agitatedly with a dagger between his small fingers.

"Are those...bite marks?" You manage to get out, your gaze falling once more to the slowly oozing holes on the side of the sitting fae's neck, and he manages a laugh that ends in a groan as he winces with pain at the movement.

He takes in a deep, shuddering breath, and the only show of his discomfort is the whitening clench of his fingers on the arms of the chair as he smooths out his features, one by one, before looking up at you.

He gives you half a smirk. "If it looks like a mule, and sounds like a mule-"

You resist the urge to slap him, and instead, hurry to your herb cabinet, calling over your shoulder as bustle about, "What happened?"

You're not sure they'll answer, but you're surprised when he answers back between gritted teeth and on the end of an irritated sound, "Vampires."

The fae beside the fire sighs. "A hunt gone wrong. And vampires a ruthless fuckers at the best of times, but especially when they're cornered and wounded with no where to go."

"Bloody bastards." The sitting man growls in agreement, and you can hear the murderous rage simmering just beneath his words.

Your fingers still in shock, but you quickly shake yourself, melding together a poultice and wrapping it in a warm, wet linen bandage before you return to the fire and the fae waiting there.

You kneel down beside him and look up at him, and a dangerous, fire comes into his eyes as he stares down at you from his sitting position.

"I like you on your knees for me, little bird."

Fuck decorum, fuck being careful. You immediately slap the prepared poultice a little bit too roughly down on the wound on his neck and he visibly winces, which gives you some sort of sick, twisted satisfaction.

"Fuck." He grits out, and you shoot him a triumphant look as you hold the medicine in place.

"Don't antagonize your healer. That's rule number one on a long list of rules."

He matches you stare for heated stare.

"What else is on the list?"

"None of your concern."

His brow tics upward, and a muscle in his jaw feathers at the challenge in your voice.

"Everything about you is my concern, little bird." He growls warningly, sitting forward toward you, even as the poultice runs with the movement and stains the fine black collar of his shirt.

"Hm. I must have missed that announcement." You sniff, refusing to be cowed, staring him down right back. "Maybe when I missed you introducing yourselves, or saying 'thank you' like civilized human beings instead of barging in here like savages and treating me like your own personal play thing."

He glares at you, hissing when you adjust the poultice rather harshly once more, but you match him step for step.

He's no match for you. You're not afraid.

You can feel the fae beside the fireplace watching the two of you with something akin to amusement as you bicker, and you're surprised when he suddenly announces into the tense, stiff silence, "I'm Felix."

The man in front of you flicks his gaze quickly to the other, and something he sees there must cement something in him, because with a defeated sigh, he sits back, away from you, and says with slight irritation, "Hyunjin."

You pretend you're not disappointed by the sudden space between you, and take in a long, deep breath before looking to the two of them.

Hyunjin arches a brow, staring at you sharply as you remain silent, studying them.

"Aren't you going to return the favor?" He asks with slight bite to his tone that makes you bristle.

You glance beneath the poultice, and satisfied the bleeding has stopped and the poison has been pulled from the bite, you remove your hand, shoving to your feet without a backward glance and heading toward the door.

You tug it open and turn to them expectantly, the cool air wafting in from the dark night and brushing your skirt against your ankles.

"No. You owed me, not the other way around. I owe you nothing. Now-" You motion with a jerk of your head and try to bite back a satisfied smirk at the annoyance that flickers across Hyunjin's features at your clear dismissal. "-please leave so I can go to bed."

Something akin to interest alights in Hyunjin's swirling eyes at your words and you already know what he's going to say before the worlds drip suggestively from his full lips.

"If you want to go to bed, little bird-" He starts with an arch of a brow, pushing to his feet in a predatory sort of way that makes you want to shiver, and not entirely in a bad way.

"-then she should." Felix finishes for him firmly, tugging him toward the open door and past you with a pointed stare, one which Hyunjin returns with irritation.

You bite back a grin and give them a flippant little wave.

"Please don't come back." You call out pleasantly, though you mean every word, and then you slam the door shut right on Hyunjin's fierce glare.

Locking up, you can't help the grin that creeps across your lips at his ire.

*****************************************************************************

They do come back.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And soon, it becomes routine-the door crashing in in the middle of some random night, one of them dripping blood onto your floor, as you assess the wounds and hurry to gather supplies.

It becomes routine to gather herbs that might help their specific ailments when you're out in the meadows during the day, or hunting through the village market in the early morning before the crowds descend.

Routine to keep things on hand that you know they like-the sweet buns Felix loves, the recipe passed down from your grandmother, held in a little basket beside the stove-the bitter tree bark from the aspens that grow all around the clearing of your cottage that Hyunjin likes to chew to paste between his teeth, especially when he's irritated or hurting, just to take the edge off, stuffed into a jar on the fireplace mantle.

You hate yourself for thinking of them often, knowing them so well, but another, smaller, more hidden part of you hopes they think of you as well.

Tonight, they've brought you a nasty arm slash, courtesy of a Changeling's wickedly sharp claws, and Hyunjin flinches slightly as you smooth a purple, foul smelling paste over the edges of the wound.

"You really are a big baby." You tease, as you reach for a vial of golden Sun Glow, tipping carefully measured drops onto the jagged edges of the largest gash that mars his forearm.

Hyunjin levels you with a glare and a protest that holds little heat, his gaze darting wildly to his counterpart who is lounged beside the roaring fire. "Not true! Felix was wailing last month over that banshee curse like a welp screaming for its mother's breast!"

Felix flips Hyunjin off lackadaisically, his feet propped on the opposite chair as he practically suns himself in the fire's flickering flames.

"Hold still." You chastise under your breath off handedly, concentration on the words you chant beneath your breath and the liquid you're now smearing across Hyunjin's torn skin.

He goes still as a rock beneath your fingers and something inside of you goes warm at the thought that he listens to you when he really needs to.

You finish smoothing the skin back over the torn muscle and sit back with a sigh, wiping your dirty fingers on your skirt as you take in your handiwork with a satisfied nod.

"There. Good as new."

Hyunjin flexes his fingers, the muscles in his forearms rippling, testing the movement, and you can't stop yourself from staring at the ropes of corded muscle as they shift beneath his tan skin.

You wonder briefly what they'd feel like beneath your tongue, or wrapped around your bare waist, or how they'd flex differently if he was using his fingers inside of your-

You glance up, and he's watching you with a knowing smirk on his plush lips, like he knows what you were just thinking.

Gods, you hope not.

Blushing, you duck your head and begin to gather up the mess of supplies, standing up so quickly that you nearly upend the basket in your arms, hurrying to put space between the two of you.

You feel hot all over, and it has nothing to do with the fire and everything to do with the still smirking fae currently sitting in your rickety kitchen chair.

You clear your throat, washing your hands in the bucket of water in the sink, and call to Felix over your shoulder, "Felix, do you think you could hand me the rest of those supplies that need washing?"

Maybe if you just stay in this dark little corner of the kitchen, dousing your skin in frigid water, the blush will leave your cheeks faster, and the heat lingering between your legs from your impure thoughts about the two men currently sitting in your cottage will dissipate like a banshee in the wind.

"You look like you need help, little bird." A low, lilting voice murmurs darkly in your ear, and everything inside of you instantly melts into a molten puddle that settles between your upper thighs as strong, corded arms slink around your waist.

Okay, so maybe not, damn them. You should've know they wouldn't make this easy on you. They're hunters after all, their entire profession deals around smelling out a prey's weakness and using it against them.

Only now, you're the prey in question, and the weakness they can smell all over you is the sinful, heated need slowly growing wetter by the second between your legs.

"I don't." You reply back, a little delayed and a lot more breathless than you had hoped.

Hyunjin chuckles against your skin, his breath warm, pricking goosebumps all up and down your arms as the delicious sound finds a home in your chest, sending your heart skittering like a frightened deer.

"What do you think, Lix?" Hyunjin asks smoothly, casually, as if he's simply discussing the time of day, not your current predicament, wedged between the warm, hard lines of his body and the stiff lip of the counter.

He glances sidelong, and you follow his gaze to see Felix there, watching the two of you with something sharp and delicious and promising in his eyes that has your knees instantly feeling weak.

You're glad Hyunjin is currently holding you up.

You watch as Felix's tongue darts out to slowly wet his lips, his pupils swallowing up the golden glint of his irises as he stares at you like you're his next meal.

You can't seem to bring yourself to care.

"I think-" He takes a step toward the two of you, eyes never leaving your own, and you can't help the whimper that escapes your lips as he comes closer, crowding you in like a predator cornering his prey. He licks his lips once more, as if tasting the sound on the air, and his pupils blow. "-she wants our help, Jin, craves it even, but she's too prideful and stubborn to ask for it."

Behind you, Hyunjin shifts, and you bite down hard on your bottom lip as you feel him press into you from behind, hard and eager.

"Is that true, little bird?" Hyunjin purrs, his fingers going up to curl around your chin, directing your gaze back to his, fiery and filled with promise. "Do you want our help-"

His gaze drops down your body, trapped between his and the unyielding sink, and something flashes in his eyes as a smirk crosses his lips, and then you feel it, the press of his thigh between your own, and you know, know by the way you shiver and the way he takes in a sharp breath, that he can feel your wet silent, plea through the thin material of your dress.

Something smug comes into his dark gaze at this realization, and he finishes his previous goading statement in a low, satisfied growl, his fingers tightening around your chin, "-with this?"

You find a tiny shred of will in yourself to be infuriatingly stubborn on the matter for just a bit longer, to hold out, even though you really want to give in to everything they're suggesting, everything they're offering, without a second thought.

"Aren't you the ones usually asking me for help?" You goad back, and something flashes in Hyunjin's eyes at your taunting tone, something that makes the heat between your legs flare with urgency. You tsk, relishing the way his heated gaze flares in response to your challenge. "My, how the tables have turned, hm?"

"Enough playing." Hyunjin growls, and instantly slings you over his shoulder easily, as if you weigh less than a sack of potatoes, toting you toward the hallway that leads to your small, modest bedroom.

You shriek and kick helplessly, succeeding in little other than hiking your dress up around your hips, and when you glance back at Felix, following closely, his gaze has moved boldly and unabashedly to the bare skin of your legs, and his expression has morphed into something akin to open hunger.

Heat curls low in your belly at the look on his pretty, delicate features, and the thought that you, and you alone, put it there.

Hyunjin tosses you onto the mattress that takes up the majority of the small room, and you breathlessly try to right yourself, not even thinking to ask how he knew where your bedroom was.

It probably wasn't that hard to put two and two together when it comes to your small woodland cottage honestly, especially for a man trained in the ways of observation.

"Who gave you the right-" You start to protest angrily, but Hyunjin is already moving to place himself between your thighs, unlacing his tunic in one smooth movement as he does so.

"You did." He pushes right back, his eyes trailing hungrily down the lines of your body, till they rest between your thighs where you currently ache, and you're not even sure for what.

He leans forward, his breath hot as it washes across your skin, and you resist the urge to tremble beneath him as he snakes a hand up to cup your jaw.

"You did-" He repeats in a growl, his eyes holding yours with fiery triumph. "-when your body reacted so perfectly to ours, little bird, like you were made for us."

You can't help the gasp that falls from your lips at his words, heady and almost dizzying like wine as they drip over your body and mind, finding a solid place in your chest beside the flare of something else that's been slowly building every time they've come to you in the night.

You can't deny it now, worming its way between your ribs, cementing itself into the crevices of your heart like the vines of WurstWood that trail the trellises of your small home, sealing every crack.

But you want to, because that's what you are, who you are-all sharp retorts and biting remarks and cracked, barely healed wounds.

Something determined cements in Hyunjin's gaze at the open war happening on your face, and then he pulls his tunic over his head fluidly, baring himself from the waist up.

All words of protest immediately die on your lips at the sight of him, bare chested, before you.

You trace the mounds of his firm pecs, then down the ridges of his perfectly sculpted abs, the deep v of his muscles where they disappear into the cinched waist of his breeches, and without thinking, down the hard, ready outline of where he strains against the expensive fabric, ready to spring free.

You swallow hard, and your gaze drifts back up to his face-the sharp slope of his nose, the full pink bow of his lips, the scar that marks the dark line of his elegant eyebrow.

You take in the scars that litter his bronze skin-the pale, silvery lines of old wounds, the jagged, angry, pink puckers of new injuries-and as you catalogue them silently, one by one, the realization that you've been there for most of them, run your fingers over each one of them, that you've healed most of them, steals your breath.

"Hyunjin-" You breathe out, not sure where you're going, but you don't have to find out, because his lips crash into yours then, silencing any further useless words.

His tongue slips between the part of your lips that was left behind by your surprised gasp as he devours you, and when he groans into the open seam of your mouth, you react without thinking, tangling your fingers into the long, platinum strands of his hair, tugging him impossibly closer to you, covering your body with the lithe, lean lines of his own.

You mold together like you were made for each other as he ravishes your mouth, and when he pulls back suddenly, leaving you gasping for breath, your breasts brush his chest with each panted inhale and exhale, and you can feel him pressed hard between your thighs as you groan with barely concealed frustration at the distance he's put between the two of you.

"I know, little bird." He chuckles, the sound hoarse, and leans forward to nip at your lips once more, and when you buck your hips up into his in retaliation, making him growl, long and deep in his throat with barely restrained desire, his hand goes to your throat to hold you still, pinning you to the bed, and he glares at you with a thinly veiled threat in his eyes.

"Careful, little one. I'll make you pay for that."

"Do it." You challenge back, your own voice hoarse and thin from kissing, your teeth tacky as you run your tongue over them, not missing the way his eyes track the movement, smugness flaring to life in your belly at the restrained heat you see in his gaze.

"As much as I would like to-" He warns, voice low and dangerous, sending heat right back between your thighs, as he leans forward once more, his teeth scraping across your throat in a biting, rough promise that has you whining and arching into him. "-I'm sure you understand, little bird, that I need to share."

His words send molten confusion through you, but when he sits back on his heels above you, smirking down at you, and Felix appears in your peripheral, still fully clothed, but just as worked up as the other hunter, suddenly, things slot deliciously into place.

"We share everything." Hyunjin says, voice like liquid heat, as his attention slides to the other hunter, the burning flame in his gaze not wavering as he leans forward, running a thumb along Felix's full bottom lip slowly, sensually, in such an intimate way that it has you rubbing your thighs together to get some much needed friction, hoping it will give you relief, just a bit, to the burning need that's flaring anew just from watching the two of them.

"Hunts. Quarries." Hyunjin continues easily, voice dropping to a sensual purr in his chest as he flits his gaze down Felix's body, the way his chest heaves beneath his tunic, the hard muscles of his chest beneath the thin fabric, the obviousness of the other man's breeches straining to contain him. "Kills."

"Each other." His gaze flickers back to you, and you resist the urge to whimper as he tugs Felix down on the bed beside the two of you, reaching for the laces of the other hunter's tunic, before he slowly begins to undo the closure at Felix's collarbone, the other fae's throat bobbing with a hard swallow as Hyunjin closes the distance between them, swiping his tongue up Felix's exposed throat, leaving a long, wet stripe on the bronze of his skin.

Hyunjin's gaze stays firmly on you-the way you writhe between his legs, looking for some sort of friction, for some sort of relief to the heat gathering in your core-even as his fingers continue to steadily unlace Felix's shirt, revealing the tan, scarred planes of his chest, before he finally tugs it off of the other man's frame with one easy, fluid motion, leaving Felix bare to the two of you from the waist up, just like the fae currently straddling you.

You resist the urge to drool as you hungrily take in first one of them, then the other, like a peasant eagerly taking in the sight of a splendid feast set before them after months on the street.

Just like Hyunjin, you recognize more of Felix's scars than not, the familiar marks on his rippling skin telling the story of your time together.

"And now-" Hyunjin leans forward once more, his eyes flashing dangerously, his lips close to your own.

You fist your hands into the sheets to stop yourself from closing the gap to meet him, and lie still.

He smirks, watching the internal battle in your eyes, and you growl in response, as he tics an eyebrow upward at your unspoken, unfounded threat, the smirk only growing wider at your obvious agitation.

"-you, little bird."

He admires you for a moment, staring down at you as you hold his gaze, not willing to back down even an inch, and then he slides his molten gaze to Felix, slowly, casually, as if he has all the time in the world.

The ache between your thighs would like to argue that point immediately.

"What do you say, Lix? Wanna make our little bird sing?"

Felix must read the open invitation on Hyunjin's face because he turns his dark gaze on you, and there's something predatory on his features that wasn't there before, something that makes a pleasant and entirely anticipatory shiver roll down your spine.

He smiles, teeth flashing, and it does nothing to calm the sudden excited patter of your heart against your ribs.

"I dunno, Jin." He muses thoughtfully, staring you down, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, making you clench up, and his eyes flash at your response, dark, warning, the gaze of a hunter. "Does the little bird's song sound like our names being screamed from her lips?"

Your throat goes dry at his obvious implication, and you want to say something along the lines of fuck you, and gods, yes, please all at the same time, so instead, you just let out a strangled sort of whimper from between your lips that has both hunters grinning in tandem dangerously.

"I think that's a yes from our little bird, hm, Lix?" Hyunjin queries as he arches a brow at Felix, and when he looks at you once more, his expression is all predator, and the pulse between your legs in response has you thinking that you'll enjoy being prey for the first time ever in your life.

********************************************************************************

You don't know what woke you from your sleep, until you hear the sound of something scratch against the front door, and everything inside of you instantly goes on high alert, all the fuzziness of remaining slumber washed from your limbs as you silently creep from the bed and down the hall on cautious steps.

It's not Hyunjin and Felix, here for one of their routine, middle of the night healing sessions.

They would have simply kicked the front door in with no pretense or any hint of stealth and demanded you help them.

Besides, they're away on a hunt, and told you not to expect them back till closer to the end of the week.

No, this is something far more sinister, you can feel it in your bones.

Holding your breath, trying to figure out the culprit of the noise, you crouch when you reach the front room and stealthily sneak behind the table in the kitchen.

The noise sounds again, louder this time, like some sort of claw being dragged down the wood of the front door.

You silently glance around the room for anything that you could use as a weapon, trying to remember what Felix and Hyunjin had taught you, and settle on a broom you find tucked near you between the sink and counter.

It's crude, and probably won't be much help, like your limited fighting skills, but it's better than nothing.

The lock on the front door jiggles, as if someone is trying to see how solid it is, and then it drops to the floor with a crash, skittering you into better hiding beneath the sink before whoever just broke the sturdy lock on your front door comes crashing into the front room and catches sight of you.

You quiet your breathing, making yourself as small as possible beneath the safety of the sink among the bottles you use for various healing methods, holding the broom out in front of you, and wait.

There is silence for a brief moment, and then the sound of the doorknob turning, and the front door creaks inward.

A heavy footstep.

And then another.

You hold your breath as the steps grow closer, and a stench washes over you that has you choking not to cough, biting back the urge to gag as you try slide further beneath the sink.

A large, clawed foot covered in coarse, dark hair comes into your limited line of view, and everything inside of you goes cold.

Werewolf.

There is a lone, far away howl from outside, and the beast in the room with you pauses and then answers back with a piercing howl of its own that threatens to burst your ear drums.

Your fingers tremble on the broomstick you still hold, and you fight your hardest not to cry out in fear as the beast quiets, snuffling loudly as it works its way farther into the room.

You whimper, and before you can stop it, the sound leaves your mouth quietly, audibly, and the werewolf freezes in its tracks.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You immediately slap a hand over your mouth and freeze, but it's sniffing the air now, long snout and yellowed fangs cocked, and it takes a halting step toward you, before it growls, long and low in its throat.

You have approximately ninety seconds before that thing finds you and rips you to shreds.

It takes another step in your direction, and shifts down to all fours, teeth bared and beady eyes scanning the room sharply, nose still quivering.

It can smell your fear.

Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, you make a decision, and move.

Dropping the useless broomstick with a clatter, you duck out from beneath your hiding place and dart around to the opposite side of the kitchen, hoping to make a run around the wooden table and escape out the open front door before the beast can get its barings.

Your feet slide on the rug underneath the table in your scurry, and with a sharp cry, you go down hard, just as the beast rises to its feet with an angry roar and swipes at you with razor sharp claws at least ten inches long.

Glasses of herbs and salves go shattering as it down around you, and you scream as you cover your head from the brunt of the chaos, pushing yourself on hands and knees beneath the safety of the table, in between the legs of the chairs.

The werewolf bellows and comes down hard on it's front paws, putting it's weight on the table, cracking the old wood right down the middle.

You scuttle out and away from its angry rampage, and make another desperate sprint to get to the door, your lungs burning, your knee and arm aching where you went down on the floor only moments before.

You hear the beast turn and follow, barreling down on you, its paws slapping the floor, a growl in its throat, and you push yourself even harder.

You don't know if there's more of them out there, but your best bet is to get out of the house and try to lose them in the trees.

Just as your searing lungs get a taste of cold night hair, the werewolf swipes a large clawed paw out as it lunges with a roar, and your feet are swept violently out from underneath you, sending you tumbling to the floor once more with an exhausted scream of frustration and fear.

You lie there, seeing stars, willing yourself to get up, even as your body doesn't respond.

You can feel hot, warm liquid running down one of your calves, and you know the muscle is shredded from the hit from the werewolve's giant claws.

The werewolf chuffs approvingly, as if triumphant it caught you, and stands over you, your body feeling absolutely dwarfed and defeated between it's giant tree stump legs.

It leans over, snarling low, its teeth snapping in your face, and as hot drool drips from between its bloodstained lips down the arch of your cheek, you screw your eyes shut and take a deep breath.

This is it.

This is how you go.

Taken out by a werewolf? How stupid. How asinine.

The beast sniffs along your face, as if scenting you before it mauls you, and you do your best to remain as good as frozen under it's massive body.

Maybe if you stay still, it'll kill you quickly and not play with you before it decides to eat you.

I'm sorry, Felix, Hyunjin, you think helplessly, as the beast leans over, it's teeth going to your throat. I didn't want it to end like this, I didn't get to tell you-

Suddenly, there is a pained whine from the werewolf standing over you, and bright light floods behind your eyelids once more, as if its shadow has disappeared from on top of you entirely.

There is the agonized sound of another werewolf howling, somewhere far off, and then you hear another cry, closer, and much more familiar.

The wolf in the room with you snarls, and you crack open an eye in time to see Hyunjin leap over your fallen body and stand protectively in front of you, bow drawn and another arrow, matching the one already protruding from the werewolf's muzzle, already knocked and waiting.

"Fucking mutt." He growls, eyes flashing with hot fury as he circles the werewolf, waiting for its next move, his hunting leathers still cinched tightly around his legs and waist. "You won't live to regret this."

Suddenly, hands are on you, and you're dragged to a corner of the room, away from the werewolf and the hunting Hyunjin.

Your body feels like lead, but when you look up, Felix is crouched in front of you, shielding you from the danger and the werewolf with his body, his arms caging you in, his eyes full of open concern.

You want to cry, you're so relieved to see them.

"Are you hurt?" Felix is asking, scanning down your body, as if looking for a reason to join the fight right alongside the enraged Hyunjin.

You laugh, a watery, panicked sort of sound and shake your head as you draw in a shuddering breath. "I should be asking you that."

"Fuck." Felix swears, having caught sight of your leg, and he rushes to press his hand to the still oozing wound, applying pressure, even as you hiss in protest. "You're bleeding."

You want to tell him that he's stating the obvious, but your head feels fuzzy and your mouth is full of cotton, and the sound of the werewolf snarling as it battles Hyunjin seems to be growing farther away by the second.

You reach up a finger, swiping away the streak of fresh red blood that adorns Felix's high cheekbone.

He holds your gaze seriously. "It's not mine."

You stare at him, everything relaxing inside you slightly at the knowledge, and then without thinking, you blurt out, "I think I'm in love with you."

Okay. This is a more stupid way to go than the werewolf.

Felix stares at you with his mouth slightly agape, and you don't know if it's the blood loss or the sudden bravery etching through your veins, but you hold his gaze, unwavering, until a small smile finally lifts the corner of his pretty mouth.

"You think?" He repeats back, as if he can't quite believe it, or maybe he's berating your word choice.

"I don't know!" You throw out your hands, and wince when the movement jostles your injured leg, your voice rising with irritation. "I don't know what love feels like, but I would assume this is it? I don't want either of you to get hurt and I miss you when you're gone and I really never felt lonely living here alone but now I do, and I know all your favorite things and could trace every scar I've ever healed with my eyes closed, and when I thought I was going to get eaten tonight, I realized that I never got to tell you any of that."

Felix is still staring at you, expression unreadable, and you huff and fold your arms over your chest, glancing away from him at his lack of response.

Gods, you really hope he just lets you bleed out.

Hyunjin appears then behind Felix's crouch, wiping a bloodied blade on his tunic before he sheaths it and glances down at both of you. His face is splattered with dark red blood, and you blame it on the blood loss for thinking he looks even more attractive covered in gore.

"What's going on here?" He asks with a curious look between Felix's frozen state and your petulant pouting.

Felix shifts, the movement making you hiss between your teeth, and glances up at Hyunjin with something akin to amusement on his features.

"She 'thinks' she loves us." He says without any preamble, and you almost choke on your own spit.

You'd get up right now and kick his ass if it weren't for your bum leg.

Hyunjin snorts, glancing down at your shocked face and then he sighs, crouching down beside Felix, his eyes searching your expression for something you're not sure he finds.

His lips lift into half a smile as he studies you, but his dark eyes are nothing but intent, serious, truthful.

"The night I brought Felix to you. The first night we met." He starts, and you nod, acknowledging you remember. He cocks his head and his eyes brighten slightly. "You didn't take one ounce of shit I gave you, and I respected the hell out of that."

You scoff, moving to roll your eyes and look away, but his fingers capture your chin and keep you in place.

Your feel your breath stutter in your chest at the look that washes across his face as he glances down at the blood slowly oozing from your leg between Felix's fingers.

"And then tonight, I came in here, and I saw you on the ground and I thought-" He pauses, taking in a deep breath, and you're fairly certain it's the first time you've seen him even look remotely vulnerable.

He shakes his head and clears his throat. "Anyway." The hint of a smile is back and he reaches up with his thumb to wipe a splatter of blood from your own cheek.

"I guess what I'm trying to say, little bird, is that I've been in love with you since the first time you gave my shit right back to me from across that table."

Your chest collapses, and tears fill your eyes.

Felix reaches up to carefully wipe away the moisture, his own lips pulled into the hint of a soft smile now.

"And I was a goner as soon as I woke up and saw those perfect, plush lips so close to my own, love."

You laugh a little, swiping at your eyes, and bite back a grin that wants to tear your face in half.

“Now say it back. Without the ‘think.’ Hyunjin commands, but his eyes are teasing and warm. “You have to do your part, sweetheart. This goes both ways.”

"All right, fine." You admit teasingly. "I guess you're all right. You did save me from a werewolf after all."

Hyunjin growls playfully and swipes at you, and you manage to evade him, even with your useless leg.

Felix glances down at the wound and you sigh, glancing around at your wrecked home, the dead, bloodied body of the werewolf slowly dissolving to ash in the corner, the pile of broken bottles on the ground by the cracked table.

Hyunjin leans over and swipes one last stray tear from your eye, and when your gazes meet, he gives you a smile that sends warmth all the way through your body.

"C'mon. We'll help you clean up." He wags a finger in your face as Felix helps you stand. "But only because we love you, and only this once."

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

April Drabbles - 8/31

Prompt: Nature

Pairing: Fae! Nanami x Fem! Reader

The high faerie courts were in bloom. Lush nature grew all around you, bolstered by the life force of the earth and the magic of the high lords.

You cling to Nanami’s arm, shying away from the stares of all the other fae. 

“They’re judging me for being human,” you whisper self-consciously, your cotton dress fluttering gently in the breeze. 

Nanami pulls you closer and his wings, lovely and iridescent like a dragonfly’s, unfurl, creating a curtain to hide you from their eyes.

“No,” he whispers in your ear. “They’re admiring how beautiful you are.” His hazel eyes glow as you blush and look away. 

A/N: Fae! Nanami is my current brain rot. Enjoy this drabble while the main fic is being written.

divider by @/ saradika

Prompts from @/ creativepromptsforwriting