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noctiva · 4 months ago

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oh my heavens oh my DAYS i am claiming bunny anon ( this one specifically!! 🐇 )… dewd u have to let me know ur thoughts on toby fluff and smut mixed together!! I AM A SUCKA for it….

LIKE IMAGINE???? HIM COMING HOME ONE DAY JUST SO TIRED.. baby boy just wants to lay back against the couch and just nap and just… reader gives him head.. telling him all sorts of praises and compliments.. overstimming him.. WHOWOWOOWEIHEOHWO and when he finally cums he’s just a sobbing drooling mess of whimpers OH MY LAWD

I read ‘sobbing drooling mess of whimpers’ and FLEW to my keyboard. you are a visionary and i hope you know that thank you for blessing my inbox

A Little R & R

Toby Rogers x F!Reader [NSFW!]

WC: 6.3k

Summary: After a particularly long day at work leaves him practically dead on his feet, Toby wants nothing more than to just sit back and relax. Lucky for him, he has a lovely girlfriend to help with that

CW: 18+ content, explicit sexual content, brief mentions of violence and death, playing with his mouth gash a lil, oral sex (male receiving), wet and messyyyy, begging and teasing, dom/sub undertones but it’s not really that deep, deepthroating, spit and drool, overstimulation, snowballing kind of, praise kink!, borderline body worship, but it’s Toby soooo.. real, tears from both parties, slight dacryphilia, pathetic men!

NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

It had been a long day.

Though he couldn’t feel the pain and soreness, Toby could feel the fatigue in his bones. Seeping into his muscles. Weighing like an anchor on his shoulders as he dragged his feet with each shaky step.

He had been up early (well, ten AM. His version of early), and spent the greater half of the day knee deep in forest brush as he tracked down the target for that particular day. It had been cold too. Snow falling and accumulating on the ground below him, heavy boots crunching each time they hit the forest floor. He had felt the effects of it; stiffer muscles, shortness of breath, eyes watering every time the wind whipped past him.

It was supposed to be an easy mission. Tim and Brian were supposed to help him with it. Not that he needed their help, and had made that very clear when they told him they were going to be taking off to deal with something else out of town - but it would’ve been nice. Would’ve been nice to have an extra set of hands, or two, to find and subdue his two victims easier.

Would’ve been nice to have Brian’s gun, to finish them off faster and more efficiently.

Would’ve been nice to get home a few hours earlier.

But he made do, like he always did. Refusing to let himself look less than capable. It had taken him far too long for his liking, but by two PM each of his hatchets had found a new home lodged within the skulls of two very unfortunate souls. Blood against snow. So stark and bright against the previously unblemished backdrop.

It was really, quite picturesque. He however, was too annoyed and exhausted to really take in the sight. Because though the job was over, it wasn’t really over. He still had to drag these two heavy, limp bodies off to some even more secluded area of the forest. Dig a hole in this frozen, snow covered earth, then throw them in.

And he wasn’t even getting paid for it. God, this was stupid.

By three PM, he was finally walking back. Back to the little cabin he had made a home out of with you. Which, really, was one of his only motivating factors nowadays. If he just got through the day, and did what he needed to do, he’d be rewarded with the gift that was your company.

Your voice, so sweet and soft as you asked him how his day was. Your hands, so gentle as they carded through his hair - nails scratching against his scalp in soothing patterns, sending a shiver down his spine. And your smile. God, how he loved your smile. So lovely and warm, bestowed upon him. Like he wasn’t a killer, a monster of a a man.

With you, he was just… Toby. And he liked that. He liked that a lot.

The work didn’t stop when he got home though, much to his dismay, because he was very quickly reminded of his other job. Caring for you. Not that it was really a job, because he liked doing it, but fuck if he didn’t wish he was a normal member of society on days like this one. A person who could just drive to the grocery store, because it wasn’t a literal forty minute journey away.

But he didn’t have that luxury, and so, if he wanted to eat tonight - he had to go hunt for it.

Toby had popped inside for a little while, given you a kiss on the cheek and asked about your morning, but far too quickly thereafter he was trudging out the doors of his home once more and walking back out into the woods

Again, he never minded providing for you. If anything, he got gratification from it - knowing that you relied on him. It felt good to be needed, to be loved and appreciated.

But man, he was exhausted. His muscles were screaming at him by the time he had trekked back home, hauling a deer carcass with him that he would no doubt also need to skin and butcher before he handed it over to you.

Work was never over. It was never over.

When he finally walked through that cabin door for the final time that day, Toby was dead on his feet. His eyes were drooping, hands trembling from fatigue, knees weak as he forced himself to take step after step. He felt like he may just collapse any moment, but all he had to do was make it to the couch.

Maybe take a little nap while you cooked dinner, then have a meal with you before retiring to bed for a well needed night of rest.

That sounded lovely.

“Toby, hun? You alright?” He heard your voice as he dragged himself towards the couch in the living room, and glanced at you before offering you a tired smile.

You were peeking out from the kitchen, barefaced and beautiful, wearing what he recognized to be one of his hoodies as you leaned against the doorframe. Christ, you really made it all worth it. Just the sight of you alone, so sweet and pretty, like an angel that floated around his home.

For a moment, you made the fatigue riddling his body seem not that bad. The guiding light in the gruesome, abhorrent string of events that was his life.

“J-Just tired.” He murmured back to you softly, as he reached a hand up to tug down the hood that had been covering the shaggy mess of hair atop his head. His signature orange goggles rested snugly in the strands, lenses scratched and stained with what you knew was blood. Human, or animal? You weren’t sure. Probably both. “Long d-day, you know?”

You hummed softly in response, watching with a keen eye as he slowly made his way over to the couch - then promptly flopping onto it. Sprawling his limbs, sinking into the cushions, eyes fluttering shut on contact.

He looked drained. Completely, utterly, rinsed clean of any energy he had when he first left the house this morning. His eyes were closed, long lashes resting against his cheeks, body near limp as it sunk into the sofa. You watched as his chest rose and fell with every breath, soft and slow, his lips parted.

He looked… Pretty, you thought to yourself. So pretty as he lounged against the couch, his body tired and worn.

So tired, because he had been caring for you. Keeping you safe, bringing you meals, making sure you were happy.

He lived and breathed for you, it seemed. A fact that was never lost on you. Toby put all of his time and effort into making sure life was nothing but a breeze for you, and you had to wonder… Did you deserve it? Did you provide for him, just as he provided for you?

You tried to. Washing him clean of blood and grime, stitching his wounds shut when he came home beaten and bruised. Patching up his clothes and trimming his hair. Was it enough though? Would it ever be enough?

Did he know, just how much you meant to him?

You’re moving before you even realize it, the meat you had been planning to prepare left sitting in the refrigerator. You couldn’t help it, you felt as if he needed you, right now. Needed to be appreciated, loved, needed to know just how much you valued every little thing he did.

You reach the couch in record time, and then you’re sinking down to your knees. You rest your head on his chest, your hand coming up to rest on his stomach - feeling the warmth of him through his stained hoodie. You feel as his jolts at the touch, eyes snapping open, immediately honing in on the sight of you so close. “W-What’s up?” He asked hoarsely, gaze directing down to your hand, and the way it had begun rubbing soothing circles against his abdomen. The touch gentle and soft, just as you always were.

“Missed you.” You murmur back to him, looking up at him as you press your cheek to his chest. He’s staring down at you with half-lidded, tired eyes, confusion evident in his irises. “You know I love you, right? And all the things you do for me?”

“I-I don’t do muh-much.” Toby mutters back to you with a sheepish little smile, bringing a hand up to rest upon your head as you nuzzle into him. His arm felt like it was made of lead as he raised it, fatigue seemingly flowing through his veins. But he would endure it for you, to touch you. To hold you close. “Just d-doin’ what I’m supposed t-to.”

“No…” You answer back to him, before raising your head up. From there, you bring your whole body up - crawling onto him so fluidly it barely makes the couch rustle. Almost like you were supposed to be there. You watch as his eyes widen minutely, fingers twitching in the air where they had once been resting against you, and you smile sweetly down at him. “You do so much for me, baby. You know that, don’t you?”

You sit up, thighs straddling his hips, your body pressed so undeniably close to his now. You know he can feel it, if the way his cheeks had begun to flush was anything to go by. He looked so cute like this, all wide eyed and pink all over. Eyes still drooping from exhaustion, but fighting to stay open just so that they could fixate on you.

You hum softly before lifting your hand, bringing it up to cup his cheek. The marred side. Sensitive, you knew it was, and so you grazed your thumb against his exposed gums on purpose - just to see what his reaction would be.

His reaction, proved to be absolutely lovely.

He whined softly, brows pinching together as your fingers grazed the sensitive flesh. A surge of tingles wracked his body, stemming from the source that was your touch. So soft, so light, and yet it was everything. You set his body on fire. You always did. Your touch a force that sent him reeling every single time, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was so tired, but it felt like the intensity had increased tenfold as you passed your fingers over his skin. “So good to me, Toby. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Y-You’d be fine.” Toby mutters, though his words do come out shaky. He can’t help it when he leans into your touch, and you feel it when a small amount of saliva seeps out of the gash and wets your palm.

Already drooling? God, he’s cute.

“Nuh uh.” You giggle back to him, your eyes somehow both sickeningly sweet and suffocatingly heady as you look down at him. From your perspective, gazing down at him as he looks up at you with a mounting desire in his gaze, Toby looks like a dream. “You’re everything to me. My sweet, sweet boy. Always making sure I’m safe.”

Your palm leaves his face, dragging down his jawline and brushing against the stubble there - and you watch as his neck flexes under the gentle touch. “Always working so hard. Getting up early, staying up late.” Down his neck, your fingers trail. Feeling how his Adam’s Apple bobs when he swallows thickly, his pulse fluttering under your touch. Your palm comes to rest on his chest, and then you can really feel his heartbeat. Racing. Near frantic from your tender hands. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

“SS-Stop it, baby.” He chuckles sheepishly, the pink flush on his cheeks spreading up to his ears and down to his neck. All pink and pretty beneath you, that’s what he was right now. Trying to fight it but doing so in vain. If it wasn’t the colour of his face that was giving it away, it was the look in his eyes.

Dark, pupils just widening more with each word you spoke. “I’m j-just doin’ my job.”

“You don’t have to do any of this.” You murmur back to him, pressing your palm against his chest before it starts to trail down lower. Over his ribs, down the slope of his abdomen. Feeling how his muscles tense under your touch, even through the layers of clothing. “But you do. Because you’re amazing.”

Slowly, your fingers reach the hem of his jeans and curl underneath it - feeling the fuzz of his happy trail graze against the back of your hand. His hips, ever so impatient, jump at the contact, and suddenly he looks more awake than ever.

“W-What are you doin’?” He asks, like a deer in the headlights as he lifts his head a little. If you thought his pupils were wide before, they were damn near swallowing his irises now - especially when your fingers drift down a little bit lower to play with the buckle of his belt.

Your eyes lift to meet his, a playfulness in your gaze that makes his heart stutter (and his cock come to life).

“Just… Showing my appreciation.” You hum softly as you lazily play with his belt. Not undoing it yet, just toying with it. Making your presence known. Your nails clink against the metal of the buckle, and his heart rate kicks up a notch. “Don’t you think you deserve it?”

You didn’t think it was possible for Toby to go even pinker, and yet he manages it. You hear it as his breathing trembles on exhale, his whole body going taut the more you teased him.

“N-No. I mean… I-I don’t-“ He’s fumbling for words, stumbling over them and stuttering more than he usually does. He’s looking at you like he’s never been touched by a woman before, all flushed and shaky. As if you hadn’t gone down on him more times than you could count. As if you didn’t have the taste of his cum ingrained on your taste buds. It’s… Adorable. Really sweet, actually. “I just… I mean- You d-don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to.” You giggle softly, raising an eyebrow at him. “I want to. Do you not want me to?”

You want to. You want to make him feel good. His body had been growing increasingly hot since you had first settled onto his lap, but he felt like he was burning up now. His skin was on fire, his clothes feeling more and more suffocating with each touch you laid upon him.

“Of c-course I do!” Toby rebuts immediately, so eager it makes a grin spread onto your lips. “I just d-don’t want you to feel like… I’m expecting it. B-Because I do things for you.”

You could swoon right then and there. Could you fall even more in love? You didn’t think it was possible, but he was really proving you wrong right then and there. You could just eat him up. All twitchy and tense beneath you, a visible bulge growing in his jeans throughout the course of the conversation. He was so reactive to you. Always had been. Getting hard if you did so much as place a soft kiss against his neck.

It was one of your favourite aspects about him, really. His desperation.

“Don’t be dumb.” You chastise lightly, a sweet smile on your face that told that your words weren’t to be taken completely seriously. “Have you ever considered that maybe I like doing it?”

And just like that, all of the blood in Toby’s body rushes south.

“Y-You do?” He chokes out, his chest feeling tight and his pants feeling tighter. He watches in a daze as you start slowly pulling his belt undone - pretty polished nails and soft fingers, working to get him bared for you.

“Uh huh.” You speak back to him in a low murmur, your own heart jumping as you pull his belt free. You don’t stop there, languidly tugging it from the loops, wanting any restriction completely removed. “Is it really so surprising? I love all of you.”

You drop his belt to the ground, a movement that his eyes flick over to for just a second, before they’re fixating on you once more. This absolute goddess on his lap, turning him to mush without even placing a single finger on him yet. “I love… Your eyes.” You hum as you pop the button of his jeans. “I love your voice.” You start to tug his zipper down. “Love your laugh, and the way your eyes crinkle up when you do.”

Once his zipper is down fully, your fingers grasp his waistband again - shimmying it down low on his hips until he got the hint. He got it rather quickly, shifting on the couch to let you pull the material off of him completely.

Left just in his boxers, you can really see the effect you have on him. Cock straining against the thin material, a visible tent with a wet patch at the tip. You lick your lips, before taking in a shaky breath. “I love how sweet you are to me. I love your hair. Love your nose.” You slide your body back a little bit, making it easier for yourself as you lean down low - bringing your face closer to his confined length. “And I love your cock.”

Was he melting? Toby was sure he was. His joints felt gooey and his entire body scalding hot. Not to mention, he was tingling all over - your soft whispered praises making him squirm beneath you. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle all of this, really. Being the focal point of your unwavering desire.

Normally, when something like this happened, you were at least bared as well. Just as vulnerable, just as shaky when he touched you just right. But this time, it was only him. Him, exposed and desperate. Him, on the receiving end of all your sinful words. No distractions, no other motive, just him.

He thinks he might just combust if you keep this up.

Little did he know, that was the plan.

You dip your head down low, nuzzling against his clothed length with a soft moan. Feeling how achingly hard he was, the pressure of it against your cheek when you rubbed up to him. His hips jolt at the contact, a strangled noise leaving his lips.

Your eyes flick upwards, and you see him watching you - his gaze equal parts aroused and in disbelief as you part your lips. “I’m gonna take care of you, don’t worry.” You murmur as your hands drift down his body to splay against his hipbones, holding him in place even as he tried to rut up towards you impatiently. “Just gotta be patient. Sit back and relax, okay?”

Easier said than done. Especially when you stick your tongue out and drag it against the length of his clothed cock. “So hard for me already.” You coo softly against the fabric, lips brushing against him in the most tantalizing way. “You look so good like this, you know? So hot.”

Toby thinks he genuinely might fucking pass out. The sight of you, mouthing against the tent in his boxers, face flushed and eyes dark, makes him feel woozy. Not to mention, you just keep talking. Just one layer away from his throbbing desire, showering him with compliments in that sweet, sweet voice of yours.

If you’re not careful, he might just cum before you even get him fully bare.

(You’re aware that’s a possibility, but would that really be so bad?)

“Y-You-“ Toby’s voice chokes off when you bring a hand downwards, leaving his hip to cup his length instead. Curling around it through the fabric of his underwear, squeezing with just enough pressure to make his vision go blurry against the edges. “J-Jesus fuck, you’re one t-to talk.” He manages out, voice trembling and wracked with stutters.

You hum softly with a sly smile on your lips, before pressing a kiss to the head of his cock.

“Maybe…” You murmur softly. “But this isn’t about me.” You lift your head up, hand still pressed against him but your lips wander. Tracing the his happy trail with a line of sloppy kisses, smearing spit against his scalding skin with each one. “This is about you.” His muscles tense up under your lips, abs flexing beneath you each time you make contact with his skin.

Slowly, you start to move your hand. Stroking him lazily as you drag your tongue against him, revelling in all the little whimpers and moans you can hear him trying to hold back. “This is about how much I love you,” You nip at his hipbone lightly, and you would swear his entire body jolted. “About how good you are to me.” You rub your thumb against the head of his cock through the fabric, and he’s hissing through his teeth. “How you deserve all this, and more.”

You can feel him throbbing under your palm, twitching every so often and so incredibly hard. If this were any other night, he’d probably be balls deep in your leaking cunt by now, but this wasn’t any other night.

As you had told him so explicitly, this was completely and utterly about him, and him alone.

“B-Baby-“ Toby’s gasping out when you squeeze him softly, right as your mouth starts to suck a red mark just above the waistband of his underwear. “Y-You gotta- I can’t-“ His words are strained and hoarse, like he’s forcing them out - and when your gaze lifts to look at him you can see why.

His head is tilted back now, jaw tense and muscles taught as his chest heaves with every shaking breath. He’s flushed all over, right down to his collarbones, and his hands are gripping the couch so tight his knuckles are going white. There’s a glint of light, and that’s when you notice the line of drool running down his neck. “I need- need to feel you. Puh-Please. D-Du wirst mich b-brechen.”

When he slips into his mother tongue, that’s how you know you’ve really gotten him good. Usually, that only really happens when he’s already deep down your throat, so to hear it before even properly touching him makes your heart jump in your chest.

He’s such a mess already. Such a beautiful, trembling mess.

His eyes, which had previously been squeezed shut, flutter open when he feels your actions still momentarily, and- Holy fuck, is he about to cry?

You can see it, the glassy sheen, making his eyes glitter when the low lights of the living room hit them. His eyelashes are damp and clumping together, and his bottom lip trembles when he releases it from where he had been gnawing it between his teeth. “S-Sei nicht gemein.” His voice quivers, and you think for a moment that you might just be a little bit of a sadist - because you don’t think he’s ever looked more lovely.

But you won’t push him. Not tonight.

“Am I being mean?” You ask softly, eyes locked on his when you shimmy down his body again. His breath catches in his throat when your lips hover over him once more - breathing out a hot puff of air against the dampened material. “I’m sorry, baby. Wasn’t trying to be. Just wanted to see if you tasted as good as you look.”

You finally, finally start to tug on his boxers. “You do, by the way.” Lower and lower you pull them, until his cock springs free just inches from your face - hitting the tensed muscles of his stomach with a slap. The moment you catch sight of him, you quickly understand why he’s so bent out of shape.

He looks painfully hard, his length flushed red and leaking at the tip as it throbs against his skin. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him more worked up than he was now. And you’re a lot of things, but you’re not cruel.

You said you were going to take care of him, and so that’s exactly what you’d do.

You wrap a hand around the base of him, fingers curling into a gentle grip, and Toby has to fight to not just cum from that alone. Your hands, so soft and tender, felt like an angel’s touch. His chest heaves, a gasping breath leaving him when you start to slowly pump his cock. Gathering up all the sticky mess at the tip to slide it back down, grip with just the right amount of pressure, thumb dipping into his slit on each upstroke.

“H-Hah-“ Toby sinks into the cushions, mouth dropping open as soft little pants leave his lips. “Y-You.. Fuck, I l-love you.”

“Love you more, baby.” You murmur back to him, then you’re finally dipping your head down to where it needs to be. Your lips part, and you stick your tongue out before dragging it flat up the length of him - eyes on him the entire time.

Toby’s becoming increasingly convinced you’re trying to send him into cardiac arrest.

The sight of you, looking so lovely and sweet as you peer up at him through your eyelashes. Your hand languidly moving against him as you give a few kitten licks to the tip of his cock. Lapping up his precum greedily. It’s like, the perfect combination of cute and provocative, and so he really can’t help it when his hips buck up towards you eagerly. Especially not when you circle your lips around him.

“A-Ah, Scheiße-“ He hisses out, eyebrows screwing together when you start to sink your mouth down onto him - your hand still working every inch you hadn’t swallowed up yet. You’re so warm and wet, cheeks hollowing around him as you take more and more of him in. Lower and lower your head sinks, and by the time he’s bumping against the tense muscles of your throat - Toby’s thighs are already trembling beneath you.

His whole body, is trembling actually. Ragged huffs of breath spilling from his lips, along with a flurry of gasps and moans then send a bolt of heat straight down to your gut. His voice has become increasingly raspy, a fact that has you shifting your thighs together as you work to take him all. Even more so when he lets out a soft whimper before whispering; “Y-You feel so good.” The words come out as more of a whine than anything else, so desperate and overwhelmed. “D-Du fühlst dich wie H-Himmel.”

You let out a little hum in response around him, and the vibrations it lets out makes his toes curl. It’s when you take in a deep breath through your nose and sink down even lower, that his eyes are rolling back.

Your nose bumps against his pelvis, nuzzling into the soft fuzz there as his dick slides all the way into your throat - muscles wrapping around him like a glove. A soft gag from you just makes them tighten around him further, and he’s choking out a strangled cry.

You feel it when a shaking hand comes to rest on top of your head, desperate in the way his fingers immediately curl into your hair. Tugging a little too hard, maybe, but you really can’t blame him. Besides, the sting it produces isn’t even an annoyance either - it feels nice. Feels like he’s clinging onto you for dear life. Like he’d crumble apart if he ever were to let go.

Your tongue darts out, and then you’re licking up the small pool of spit that had already begun to accumulate around the base. When you start to pull your head up, an absolutely filthy slurping sound accompanies the action.

It rings in Toby’s ears, only further spiking the temperature of the heat he was completely consumed in. With laboured breathing his head is spinning, legs twitching and trembling beneath you - fingers wrapped in the strands of your soft hair. He wants to keep watching you - how your lips stretch around him, the sight of his length disappearing into your throat with each bob of your head - but it’s really a struggle.

He can barely keep his eyes open, and even when they are his vision is fogged up and unfocused. He is able to still make out how lovely you look though, flushed pink with a paralyzingly potent look of desire in your eyes. Tears cling to your lashes before they start running down your cheeks, and yet you just keep pushing. Taking his whole length every time you bring your head down, eyebrows furrowing together at the feeling of him filling your throat.

And he just can’t help himself.

The hand on your head gives an experimental bit of pressure, just seeing how you’d react. You nuzzle into his palm as your drag your tongue back up his cock, meeting his eyes with a gaze that left no questions. ‘Go ahead’. It said. ‘Do whatever you want’.

His fingers twitch. You had really meant it when you said this was all about him.

Almost hesitantly, Toby uses his grip on your hair to tug you w upwards, revelling in the way your tongue dragged against him along the way. When you’re left with just the tip enclosed in your lips, he lets out a shuddering breath. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.” He murmurs, absolutely entranced by the display in front of him. “Womit ha-habe ich dich verdient?”

Your eyes sparkle with unshed tears, and he’s completely captivated. Slowly, he pulls you back down - lips suctioning to the taut skin as you suck him back in.

He just can’t take it anymore. His head lols back against the couch’s armrest, eyes squeezing shut as wave after wave of white hot ecstasy washes over his entire body. He feels like he’s drowning in it, his head stuffed with cotton as he gasps for air. With his jaw hung open, he can absently feel the slickness as drool pools in his mouth before rolling down his chin - but he’s too far gone to even care about it.

It runs down the slope of his neck, dirtying the collar of his sweater and leaving his skin glistening. It’s just too good. You’re too good. Taking everything he was giving you so eagerly, letting him bob your head up and down on him without so much as a little whimper of complaint.

You were just eating him up. Slurping up the mess you were both creating happily, flicking your tongue against the tip every time he pulled you up. You can tell he’s incredibly close. Hell, he’d probably been holding it back for awhile now. Throbbing and twitching against your tongue, so hot and hard it felt like he might just burst any moment.

“SS-So good- So- hah- Fuck, you’re amazing.” His words are barely more than mindless babble, slurred and shaky as they pour out between moans. It’s like you’ve melted him, reducing him to a puddle of mush that you were lapping up eagerly.

Any issues from before had been wiped away completely. The fatigue, lingering frustration and annoyance from how the day had played out - it’s all gone. You’re the only thing that existed right then. You, and that glorious mouth of yours. “I’m- I’m so close, b-baby. I can’t. F-Fühlt sich zu g-gut an.”

If your mouth wasn’t stuffed full you would’ve cracked a grin.

He’s a pitiful sight right now, really. Skin smeared with drool and sweat, eyes screwed shut with tears clinging to his lashes. He’s a trembling, twitching mess - filling the air with strained whimpers and gravelly moans.

You can’t help but feel a little proud of yourself, for reducing him to such a state.

Your hands, which had been resting on his thighs, drift upwards. Over his hipbones, under the hoodie that he still donned - pushing it up to his chest. His muscles are so tense, abs more prominent than ever as they contract and relax with each nod of your head. You splay your palms wide against the skin, and Toby’s so sensitive now that he quite literally jolts at the touch.

He felt like his nerves had gone into overdrive, the simplest touch from you sending sparks of pleasure through his entire body. Your hands against him left what felt like two burning handprints against his abdomen, tingling wherever your skin met his. You feel his cock throb when he reaches your throat once more, and you know just how to push him over.

Curling your fingers, you slide your hands down his stomach - dragging your nails against the sensitive flesh as you do so. You feel his muscles convulse beneath your palms, and Toby’s letting out a sound closer to a sob than anything else as his hips kick up towards you. “A-Ah, fuck- D-Du bringst mich um.” His grip on your hair is definitely painful now, tugging at your hands so harshly that the sting is undeniable. His bucking hips start to stutter, choked off whimpers spilling from his lips before he’s gasping; “I can’t- I c-can’t, baby-“

You hum around him in encouragement, rubbing your thumbs over his hipbones in slow soothing circles. That little gentle touch, is what seemed to be the final straw.

Toby lets out a broken cry as his hips buck into your mouth, and then his shoulders are drawing back as his release hits him like a ton of bricks. It’s a pitiful sound really, a long drawn out whine followed up by a few cracked sobs of pleasure as stars dance behind his eyes.

He spills into your mouth, coating your tongue white with rope after rope of sticky warmth. You take it all like you had been starving for it - suckling at the tip to draw it all out as he squirmed and gasped on the couch beneath you. Was it too much? Maybe, but he just tasted so good - and the sounds he was making were even more delicious. It’s really hard to find the will to stop.

You don’t let up until he has to beg you to. “B-Baby- ‘S too muh-much-“ He’s whimpering out, cheeks moist with tears as his eyes flutter open to gaze down at you. He’s sniffling and shaking when you finally release him with a soft ‘pop’, and you press a kiss to the tip before you let go of him completely.

Another kiss meets the skin just below his belly button as you reach down to gently tuck him back into his boxers. His skin is still so hot to the touch, and his thighs tremble when your fingers lightly graze them.

Slowly your eyes lift as you bring your head up, and you meet gazes with Toby’s hazy ones. He looks so sated and satisfied, limbs practically limp as they sprawl against the couch cushions. Still though, he finds the energy to lift his arms and grab at you. “C’mere.” He mumbles softly, already tugging you close before you can even agree (not that you’d ever protest).

You sink into his arms easily, your body pressed to his - exchanging heat, sweat, and everything in between. Your hand lifts, and then you’re cupping his face once more, gently wiping away some of the drool on his cheek with the sleeve of your sweater.

“So sweet.” You whisper softly, tracing the curve of his jaw with your thumb. Toby’s staring up at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky, lovestruck eyes half hidden behind drooping lids. “I love you.”

His lips stretch into a lazy smile, forming those little creases in his cheeks that you adore so much. He leans into your touch, a soft little sound of contentment leaving his lips. Then, he reaches up with a shaky hand. It finds a home back in your hair again, cupping the back of your head tenderly before he’s pulling you in closer.

“L-Love you more.” He answers back in a soft breath, one that washes over your lips before he closes the gap between you.

His lips are slick and the kiss is sloppy, but you melt into it regardless - moaning softly into his mouth when he nips at your bottom lip.

He can taste himself on your tongue when he licks into your mouth, a fact that makes a shiver go down his spine. He can still picture you, every time he closes his eyes - nestled between his thighs. So beautiful, and so determined to make him feel good.

Quite clearly, you had succeeded.

Toby’s reluctant to pull away, content with just lazily sliding his tongue against yours as you let out the sweetest noises that he just swallows right up. But, he does anyway, and a thin line of saliva connects the two of you for a moment as he pulls his head back.

Somehow, he looks even more smitten than before. “I think…” His fingers move, lightly scratching soothing patterns against your scalp. “I th-think we should have a later d-dinner. I don’t really want t-to let you move any time ss-soon.”

You let out a soft giggle and nod, easily conceding as you snuggle into him further. Your head comes to rest on his chest once more, and you breathe out a soft little sigh. His hand slides upwards, gently petting the top of your head.

“Sounds good to me.” You murmur.

Toby lets out a tired little hum, letting you lounge against him as his head tilts back once more - resting against the cushions. He can feel your heartbeat thumping against his skin, the weight of your body against his a comforting pressure.

His eyes flutter shut, and he lets out a tired breath.

He’s asleep mere moments later.

—————————————————————————☆

HOOOOOWEEEE I had a BLAST writing this! loved this concept so much I banged this whole thing out in a couple hours no breaks

something about a man crying and whimpering will do it to me every time

if any of you reading are waiting for me to post part two of my one toby fic it is being edited as we speak! just wanted to get a few asks done first - thank you for being patient <3

and as always thank you for reading!

#toby rogers #crp #creepypasta #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #ticci toby x female reader #ticci toby smut #toby rogers smut #toby rogers x reader #creepypasta smut #creepypasta headcanon

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jeonginsleftcheek · 9 months ago

Text

In the absence of light, darkness prevails

pairing: sylph!hyunjin x afab!reader x dark!fairy!felix

genre: smut, angst, fantasy au

word count: 13.1k

warnings: kidnapping, use of magic, mind control, fighting, blood and injuries, coercion, possessiveness, light gore, death, violence

nsfw warnings: multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, spanking, fingering, creampies, breeding kink, bulge kink, oral (m and f receiving), multiple partners, dom/sub dynamics, dom!hyunjin, dom!felix and sub!reader, monster cocks lol

a/n: my first spooktober fic! accidentally made it long whoops. i researched about fae folk and added my own things to the lore so i hope you enjoy this one🩷

~ divider by @cafekitsune

~ Masterlist

You've always loved spending time in the forest, ever since you were little, you would explore new paths in the safety of your parents companionship and now that you're older you like to think you know the forest like you know the back of your hand.

You loved spending quiet time alone with nature, often you'd bring a book, a beverage and snacks, to enjoy a little picnic on your own.

Sometimes, you would sketch and draw the trees and creatures you saw, enjoying the meditative state you'd fall in.

But as calming as it was, you couldn't help but be a little bit paranoid every time you sat in the same spot for too long.

A weird sound in the distance, a snap of a twig behind your back, a rustle of wind in the leaves.

It would make your skin crawl, as you turn and survey the place. But there's nothing ever there.

It's all in your imagination.

At least that's what you usually tell yourself any time you feel like there are eyes on you.

Unfortunately for you, reality is much more closer to your worst nightmares.

It's night time, the almost complete darkness envelops your frame, a heavy feeling sinking you down as your legs lead you towards something you cannot fathom.

Moonlight seeps faintly through the trees, giving enough light for you not to trip and break your bones on the way to your ruin.

You can hear a deep soothing voice calling to you from the distance but you cannot understand it; all you know is that it sounds beautiful and you have to find the source of it.

You don't even blink as you practically glide through the forest, the leaves crunching beneath your feet and twigs snapping under the pressure of your hurried steps.

Before you can find the source of the alluring voice, a strong wind picks up seemingly out of nowhere.

The coldness of it snaps you out of your daze and you can no longer hear the dark voice calling to you.

The wind brings forth black clouds, preparing a thunderstorm and as you look around after finally blinking and somewhat coming to your senses, you realize that you have no idea where you are.

You've never been in this part of the forest, and you also quickly realize that you don't have your phone on you or even your jacket, you've walked out of your house in your nightwear, somehow having the thought of at least putting your sneakers on.

Panic quickly seeps in as you tremble from the cold wind howling through the branches, swirling the leaves all around you.

Fear settles in your bones as your eyes water, the sound of thunder rumbling in the sky and shaking the earth has you hugging yourself in comfort as you stand in one place, unable to move.

Harsh rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs on your right have you turning your head fast in that direction and you squint your eyes in the darkness, trying to make out a shape.

What once was nothing suddenly becomes a flurry of iridescent lights, your eyes can barely stand to look at it and the only shape you could make out is a pair of big transluscent wings.

"Don't be afraid."- you hear a sweet voice before you slip into the darkness, expecting to hit the earth beneath you as you sway but you don't feel anything.

You're slowly waking up, the scent of flowers fills up the space around you as you lay on the most comfortable bed you've ever been in.

There's a weird sound flooding your ears, equally soothing as it is unnerving, coupled with a sweet voice singing a beautiful melody, unlike something you've ever heard before.

As you finally manage to open your eyes, you have to shield them from so much bright light and sparkling that attack them.

"W-where am I?"- your voice is groggy as you sit up and almost slip off of the weird bed suspended in the air as it hangs from the tall ceiling, the material of the sheets feels like pure silk, but even more smooth than any silk you've touched before.

The smell of flowers becomes more intense.

"You're in my house."- a creature appears on your right and you shriek, jolting and almost slipping again.

Even though fear has you trembling, the ethereal beauty of the being somehow calms you down.

The creature lifts it's hand up and the swinging of the "bed" stops.

"Wh-what are you?!"- your eyes are fixed on the creature's transluscent wings, the colors changing as it slowly moves them and you realize that the creature is levitating next to you.

They start laughing as you keep looking at them with a confused expression on your face.

"I'm a syplh."- the creature says like you should absolutely know what that is.

"A what?"- you chuckle incredulously, you must've really hit your head hard when you fainted earlier.

The creature rolls their eyes before side-eyeing you.

"Of course you don't know! Humans don't know anything! You've heard of fae folk, right?"- the creature asks and you nod.

"Like faeries?"- you ask.

"They're just part of fae folk. Like sylphs."

"I'm hallucinating though, right? I'm somewhere in a hospital, probably in a freaking coma."- you shake your head and the sylph reaches their hand towards you and pinches your arm.

"Ouch! What was that for?"- you ask as you rub your skin.

"See, you're awake. I saved you, by the way. You should be thankful."- the sylph squints at you.

"Saved me from what? The storm?"- you ask and the sylph sighs in annoyance.

"I created the storm to save you."- the creature says like it's the most normal thing ever.

"From who?"- you ask, it's like someone has deleted your memory leading up to the storm, you don't remember walking out of your house, you don't remember going into the forest, you only remember the wind, the storm and you fainting.

It's the last memories you have, after the one of you going to bed safely in your house.

"Him."- the sylph shivers, the jewels on his hands and around his neck glinting in the light, making you realize that the weird buzzing sound comes directly from the shiny gems.

"Him?"- you raise you eyebrow.

"I will not say his name. He can hear it."- the creature whispers the last part.

"Alright."- you decide to play along. "What is your name then or do they just call you sylph?"

"Of course they don't. My name is Hyunjin."- he says, crossing his arms.

"Alright Hyunjin, I think I want to go home now."- you emphasize his name.

"Ha!"- he scoffs. "The human says it like it's that easy."

"Don't call me 'the human'. I have a name too. It's y/n."- you cross your arms on your chest too.

"Okay, y/n. You should be a little more grateful that I saved your life. You're acting like it's no big deal but I risked my own life to save you."- Hyunjin looks annoyed.

"Okay, thank you? What do you want me to do?"

"You still don't believe me, I see."- he purses his lips in thought. "Give me your hand."

Your eyebrows raise in question but you still reach your hand out to him.

"Close your eyes."- his hands are soft as they clasp around yours and shivers run down your spine.

"Come on."- Hyunjin nudges you as you keep staring at him.

With a huff, you close your eyes and Hyunjin starts speaking what you would only describe as nonsense words but you guess it must mean something to him.

As he keeps chanting, it's like you're being put into some kind of trance and you feel something building up inside you, making it's way to your lungs and stealing your breath.

You quickly retract your hand as you feel like you're being suffocated and the feeling disappears just as quickly as it came over you.

"What the hell did you do to me?!"- you panic as you hold your hand to your chest.

"Just wanted to show you the smallest sliver of how you would feel if he took you."- the sylph looks serious and something inside you flickers with recognition.

"Okay, let's say I believe you. And you saved my life and I am thankful for that, what do you want in return?"- you ask.

"Hmm. I haven't thought of it yet."- the sylph smirks a little.

"What? So your plan is to keep me here until you think of something that makes me useful to you?"- you look at him incredulously.

"Maybeeeee."

"Hey, you can't do that!"- you yell out as he levitates away from you.

"And you can't get down from my little swing so you better get used to it."- he says and levitates away as you stare down at him.

"Get back here sylph!"- you yell but he just chuckles and leaves you alone.

You can't believe this is happening to you. This must be some kind of fever dream or you're really in a coma and the doctors gave you some meds that have you dreaming up all sorts of things.

You scan your surroundings, you're too high up to jump down and not break your legs, unless you can somehow fall exactly onto the regular bed under you but you don't trust your aiming skills.

The room beneath you is full of art, plants and sparkly gems that emit different colored light, making everything look shiny and pretty.

You don't necessarily think that the sylph is evil, but he is keeping you here against your will with no way to get down.

Whatever the case is, you've no other choice but to lay back down.

Your heart feels heavy as you wonder what's gonna happen to you, your eyes fill with tears and you hug yourself in an attempt to comfort your worried mind.

It's been at least two weeks since the sylph practically started holding you hostage.

He has levitated you down where he usually hangs out, after you lied that you're afraid of heights. He gave you food and a place to shower and sleep, he tries to make you feel comfortable every day you spend with him, you really have it all but you still want to go home.

The problem is, the more time you spend in Hyunjin's house, surrounded by all the shiny magical gems that hum and buzz, the sweet flowers he grows and his carefully crafted art, you start forgetting more and more details of your actual life.

But, at the same time as you keep forgetting yourself, you also keep learning more about Hyunjin.

About his love of art and music, his hauntingly beautiful singing voice, about the properties of his magical gems, about his ability to randomly become invisible just to get on your nerves and tease you a little bit.

And still, his beauty keeps pulling you in, hypnotizing you and making a part of you long to stay with him.

"I have to go do something. Don't even think about running away, I put protection on all exits. He'll never find you here. You're safe, I promise."- the sylph speaks as he caresses your face.

"Please... I just want to go home."- your eyes water. "I-I can't remember where I live."- you add as tears spill down your cheeks.

"Shh, I'll help you remember. Don't worry, I won't harm you."- he promises as he wipes your tears but you don't know if you can trust him.

You've no other choice but to nod at him and watch him turn his back and disappear out the door, leaving you alone with the buzzing and humming.

The days drone on and on before he comes back, stumbling into the house, messy and full of cuts and bruises.

"Hyunjin! What happened to you?"- you ask.

"Doesn't matter."- he shakes his head quickly.

"You're hurt!"- you hurry towards him, about to touch him and he flinches away.

"Don't touch me. I need to heal myself."- he says as you stare at him in shock and wonder.

He turns his back to you, his hands working around the table quickly that you can't even see what exactly he's doing.

The color of his wings seems darkened and he seems upset, gusts of wind running through his hair and hitting your face as you slowly approach him.

"Don't come closer!"- Hyunjin says as if he can sense your presence.

"I'm sorry."- you back away with tears in your eyes and his shoulders hunch up before he turns to look at you.

"It's dangerous for you right now, okay? Don't cry, I'm just thinking about your safety."- he says and you nod quickly, believing him as you blink away your tears and try not to freak out.

He makes some kind of circle with his gems, chanting something that sounds like gibberish to you, and the humming of the crystals becomes louder.

They shine brighter and brighter until you have to shield your eyes, the sound of sparkling becomes louder until it explodes into complete silence.

You slowly blink your eyes open, and Hyunjin is almost back to his normal state, his wings showing all the iridescent colors again.

"I will need to sleep for a few days. Don't worry."- he says, exhaustion written all over his pretty face, his plump lips pouty.

"For a few days?!"- you shriek.

"Yes, you have enough food. Don't try to wake me up, it's cardinal that I get my rest."

"You're not gonna tell me what happened?"- you ask, chewing on your lip nervously as Hyunjin levitates towards his bed.

"It doesn't matter, it's over now. You better not worry your pretty little head about anything. Good night, then."- he says, falling asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Your lips are parted as you were about to protest but the only sound that comes out is an annoyed huff.

You're angry at him for not telling you anything and keeping you in the dark and you're scared about your memories slipping away from you, the more the days go by, the more things you forget.

You don't remember where you lived or worked, or even what your favorite songs was.

Panic overtakes you as you try to open every door inside Hyunjin's house only to be pushed away by a gust of wind every time you try.

There's really no way to escape.

Hyunjin actually sleeps for five whole days.

You take care of his plants while he recharges, you look at the pictures in books he owns since you can't read his language, you observe his sleeping form, laying your body next to his every night, careful not to wake him up.

Every day that passed by, the scent of flowers became stronger, almost suffocating you in it's sweetness and making you realize that it's Hyunjin who smells so intoxicating, not just the plants around him.

When he finally wakes up one evening, you're quick to run to his side.

"Y/n."- he looks almost surprised to see you and you realize that you had almost forgotten your name.

"Hyunjin, are you sick?"- you gasp when you notice that he's covered in sweat, his pupils are blown and his cheeks look red, the redness spreading to his neck, down to his collarbone, down where your eyes keep falling until you see the bulge under his flimsy robe.

"Oh."- your eyes are wide.

"I need your help."- he squirms a little.

"W-with what?"- you act dumb as your heart starts beating hard against your chest.

"I need you to let me fuck you."- he says it without blinking and you start laughing incredulously.

"What is wrong with you?"- you frown as you step back a little.

Hyunjin grips the sheets beneath him, his knuckles turning white.

"This could be your favor for me saving your life. I- ugh- have to mate with someone but I don't want to. The problem is that I get like this and well I can't mate with you since you're human but you could at least help me get through this and-"

"Shut up for a moment."- you say, feeling annoyed.

"How do I know that you'll let me go home after that?"

"I promised I will help you. A sylph never breaks their promise!"- Hyunjin practically whines, beads of sweat rolling down his face, the scent of flowers is so intense that you have to take a deep breath in.

"Says a sylph."- you narrow your eyes at him. "This isn't your first time that you feel like this. What do you usually do when it happens?"

"What do you think I do?"- he scoffs at you, motioning with his hands.

"Oh. Right."- you bite on your lip.

You think about it, maybe this is the only ticket to go back home, the only way out, and Hyunjin's scent is kind of messing with your head, making you feel floaty and turned on, arousal already gathering between your legs.

Do you really even have a choice?

"Okay, but only if you first tell me what the hell is going on here. Who attacked you? What did you go out for in the first place? Who are you keeping me hidden from?"- you demand as you cross your arms.

"It's hard to answer all these questions right now."- Hyunjin whines again, you can see his hard member twitching.

"Answer or suffer, sylph."- you smirk and he growls as he looks at you, clenching his fists as his fingers are still wrapped around the silky sheets.

"Goblins attacked me. I was out gathering some plants for healing and spells. And I told you I can't say his name, all I can tell you is that he's really evil. There, are you happy?"- the sylph breathes heavily.

"For now. I can see you're really struggling."- you feel like you have the upper hand suddenly as you slowly approach him.

"Yes I am. Now come here and help me."- he says and you chuckle as you hover over him.

"Say please."- you tease and his teeth clench as he looks at you.

"Please."

You grab his face and slowly lean down, your lips pressing on his and Hyunjin kisses you back passionately, the flowery scent enveloping your senses as he grips your arms and pulls you into his lap.

You gasp as your core lands directly on his hard bulge, and he starts pushing his hips up into you instantly, making you moan as his tongue prods at your lips.

You let him explore your mouth as your fingers tangle in his hair and his hands grab at your body desperately while you grind on him and meet his hips as you move together in a steady rhythm.

"Fuck this."- he mumbles against your lips and swiftly turns you around, your back hitting the bed as you whimper and look at him with wide eyes.

Whatever upper hand you thought you had was gone in that moment.

He's impatient as he strips quickly, his body on display for you, lean, toned, shiny from the sweat that smells of the sweetest flowers, his cock big and heavy, desperate to be buried inside your heat.

"Oh."- you gasp as you look at it. You've never seen a cock so big and so pretty as his, you even want to taste it.

"Like what you see?"- he smirks and you nod quickly, your pussy dripping with so much arousal.

"You get to use it for your pleasure."- he keeps smirking as he nods at you to get undressed.

You undress just as quickly as he did, letting him see everything.

"Fuck, you're beautiful."- he gasps almost as if he wasn't expecting it, his hands automatically grabbing at your breasts, squeezing them and playing with your nipples.

"H-Hyunjin."- you moan, your arousal is leaking down onto the sheets beneath you and Hyunjin can smell it, and it makes him feel even more entraced by you.

"I've never fucked a human actually."- he says as his hand slides down towards your core.

"Yeah? Should I feel honored?"- your eyes are hazy as you smirk lazily, his fingertips on your clit.

"You should."- he looks at you with a cocky smile, his fingers moving in a circle.

"Fine, I'm honored."- you say and he chuckles as he slides his fingertips down between your folds.

"Wow, so wet."- Hyunjin's eyes roll back as his cock twitches. "Can't wait to sink into you."- he adds.

"Hyunjin!"- you whimper as he starts flicking your clit fast, the wetness making you feel even more turned on.

"You think you can take all of me?"- he smirks.

"Yes, yes!"- you moan, leaning into his touch as he abuses your swollen nub.

"I'm still gonna prep you. I don't wanna hurt you."- he says it sweetly, his fingers prodding at your entrance.

You whimper as he pushes them in and starts fucking you gently.

"Ah, please, faster!"- you beg, everything is overwhelming and it's like your pleasure is hitting you harder than it usually would.

Hyunjin obliges, fucking into you harder and faster, attacking your sweet spot, his lips are parted and his eyes are dark and full of lust as he keeps you locked under his intense gaze.

His wings sparkle behind him, creating light around his beautiful body, making him look even more ethereal.

You moan loudly as your orgasm hits you hard, making you spill your juices on his fingers and soak the bed under you as he slowly pulls them out.

"Mm."- Hyunjin whines as he tastes you on his fingertips. "You taste so sweet. I like it."

"H-Hyunjin."- you whimper, feeling delirious as your eyes fall down to his throbbing cock.

"You want this?"- he smirks as he wraps his nimble fingers around his length and starts pumping it slowly, giving you a little show.

"P-please."- you whine, feeling so desperate to be filled up to the hilt.

"I'll give it to you, darling."- the nickname makes you twitch as he presses the tip of his cock against you, running it on your folds and gathering your wetness before he slowly pushes in.

"Ah!"- you whimper at the big stretch, bigger than you've ever had before and he keeps pushing in making you wonder just how long he is.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well. Didn't think a little human pussy like yours would be so greedy."- Hyunjin smirks, feeling powerful as you look at him almost cross-eyed and he hasn't even started thrusting yet.

"H-Hyunjin."- you grip at his arm, your fingers almost slipping agains this sweaty skin.

"You feel that?"- he presses on your stomach and you jolt as you whimper and look down. "I'm in your womb. Wish I could breed you."- he groans.

"Wish so too."- you mumble, feeling like you're in some kind of trance or under some kind of spell, and maybe you are but at this point you don't even care, not when he starts slowly thrusting, his cock sliding deliciously against your wet walls.

He smirks as your eyes flutter and roll back in your head, his length is touching spots inside you that no one else has touched before, making you see stars as the sounds of squelching fill the room up.

"Ah, so warm."- Hyunjin moans, taking out half his length and pushing it back in, faster with every thrust, the tip pressing against your cervix.

You open your eyes and look at him, teary as you wrap your arms around his wet body and pull him in closer, your legs wrapping around him, trapping him inside your warmth and inside your embrace.

A flicker of something soft sparkles in his eyes and it seems to even surprise him as he grips at your breasts and speeds up, making you take it deeper and faster, his cock splitting you open only for him.

"Ah- Hyunjin!"- you cry out, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"Y/n."- he moans into your ear as he bends your legs and they end up on his shoulders, making him hit even deeper inside you, his balls smacking against your ass.

A string of curses and unrecognizable words keep spilling out of your mouth as he abuses your hole, bringing his weight down on you, gripping your wrists and pinning them down next to your head.

"I will make you mine."- he growls, losing control over himself as he fucks you fervently, all coherent thoughts and sentences have left your brain.

"Yours!"- you moan and he smirks, one of his hands pressing on your tummy to feel how deep he is inside you.

"Only mine."- Hyunjin growls as you cream around his cock, driving him crazy as he twitches inside you, releasing his load deep into you, the warm liquid filling you up, drops of it sliding out even though he still has you plugged up with his cock.

The scent of sweet and fresh flowers is overwhelming and your pussy clenches around his cock that's still semi-hard.

"Sylphs can fuck for days without stopping, did you know that?"- he smirks at you, caressing your face and moving a hair that was stuck to your forehead.

Your lips open in wonder but still you can't form a sentence.

"Don't worry, I know you humans are fragile. But, I'm still gonna push your limits, darling. You have to let me know when it's too much, is that okay?"- Hyunjin asks with a gentle smile, his cock becoming harder inside you again.

"Yes."- you say breathlessly.

"Good girl. Let's see how much you can take."

As you open your eyes the next morning, last night becomes a blur of pleasure and passion.

Your body is sore and you can barely move, your eyes instantly search for Hyunjin.

"Good morning."- he appears next to you with a cup in his hand. "I know you're in pain so I mixed this up for you, it'll make you feel better."- he adds with a gentle smile on his face, reaching the cup towards you.

"What is it?"- your voice is hoarse, almost unrecognizable to you as you take the cup into your hand and look at the shiny liquid.

"Just a healing potion."- he nudges you to drink. "Finish all of it."

"Okay."- you nod and start drinking, it tastes sweet and refreshing like you were drinking the nectar directly out of a flower.

"There you go."- Hyunjin tilts the cup so you have no choice but to swallow all of the content in it.

"I-is your heat over?"- you ask timidly, wrapping yourself tighter with the sheets.

"No, but it's better now. Yesterday was the peak, so I was quite desperate. Sorry you had to see me like that."- the sylph's cheeks become rosy.

"It's okay."- you say and try to get up, only for your legs to give up immediately, making you fall back down onto the bed.

"Woah, be careful. You need to rest, y/n. Don't try to get up."- Hyunjin is quick to put his arms around you and pull you into a more comfortable position.

Suddenly, your eyes water as you look at him.

"Y-you said you'd take me h-home after y-yesterday."- you hiccup as hot tears start sliding down your cheeks.

"I will, as soon as you finish resting. We have a long way to walk to the portal, and it's very dangerous. That's why I have this for you."- Hyunjin levitates up towards his cabinets and pulls out a necklace with a shiny amethyst pendant, the gem hums and buzzes as he comes closer to you.

"What is that?"

"Amethyst. It's for protection. I won't let anyone harm you."- Hyunjin smiles.

"By anyone you mean him?"- you sniffle.

"Yes, him, and any other evil creature. I will get you home safely, that is, if you even want to go home."

"W-what is that supposed to mean?"- you swallow as Hyunjin clasps the necklace around your neck, the shiny pendant soothingly humming against your skin.

"Well, you probably don't remember much by now. Human minds can't really endure being in this realm for too long."- Hyunjin explains.

"But, I haven't been here for that long, have I? Maybe like a month or two?"- you ask and Hyunjin chuckles.

"Darling, it's been almost 6 years since you've been here. Well, in human time. You're correct about it being around two months in here."

"Six years?!"- you shriek. "I've been gone for six years to everyone that knows me in real life?"

"Yes, I'm sorry I didn't tell you before that time works differently here. I didn't want to upset you like you are now."- the sylph bites on his lip nervously.

"Oh my god."- you start crying again, your breathing becoming shallower as you start shivering.

"Hey, hey calm down."- Hyunjin quickly wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to his body, his fingers soothing on your skin. "It's okay."

"No, it is not!"- you try to push him away. "It's your fault, you kidnapped me!"

"I didn't kidnap you y/n, that's nonsense! I saved your life and I'm keeping you safe from him."

"Who? Who are you keeping me safe from?"- you demand, still trying to push Hyunjin away but his arms are strong around you and he doesn't budge.

"Fine, I'll tell you more information if it will get you to calm down but I cannot say his name or he may find us and then everything will be in vain."- Hyunjin starts and you just stare at him, waiting for him to start explaining.

He sighs, still holding you close.

"He's a powerful dark fairy. He used to be on the light side but he started using dark magic and became tainted. He practiced a lot of it so it made him very strong, so strong that he can snap your neck in a matter of miliseconds without even touching you. Everyone here fears him, there's a whole part in the woods that none of us go near to because we think he lives there."

"Okay, that is scary but what do I have to do with him? I'm just an insignificant human."- you wipe your tears as Hyunjin hands you a handkerchief so you can blow your nose.

"He lured you in here. He brought you to this realm by hypnotizing you with his voice, I've no idea what he wants to do with you but obviously you're not just an insignificant human if he has tried to take you."- the sylph reveals.

"I- I don't know what to say."- you try to process all the information Hyunjin just gave to you.

"Maybe you should go back to sleep. I'll make some food for you when you wake up and then we can leave if you want. But you're welcome to stay here with me, if that's okay with you. I actually kinda like having you here."- Hyunjin admits, his face becoming red and the scent of flowers floods your nostrils.

"I don't know what I want. I'm confused and scared."- you admit.

"Don't be scared, I'll take care of you."- the sylph leans in and kisses your forehead before he lays you down. "Shh, go to sleep."- he adds as you try to talk, only for his hands to move above your face and make you fall asleep instantly.

Deeper in the forest, where darkness resides at all times, not even the moonlight illuminates the path between the thick bushes and big branches that lean menacingly towards the ground, a dark creature's anger builds.

He can't find the object of his affection, the only thing he knows is that the sylph took you and probably protected you from the influence of his dark magic.

Even the most powerful spells didn't work in his favor, resulting in rage coursing through the creature's veins like poison. His power grows and feeds on his hatred, his hands lifting up to levitate any object in front of his eyes, smashing them into the wall as he growls loudly, his screams of anger echoing inside his lair.

He even lifts his bed and table, easily snapping them in half with just one movement of his hand as if they were mere twigs.

He has to find the sylph and show the sparkly creature exactly what happens when you mess with the darkness itself.

You're still half asleep when you feel Hyunjin's hard member pressed into your ass as he ruts against you.

"H-hey!"- you gasp, about to turn around but his arms wrap around you.

"I'm sorry, I'm just feeling so hot again. I need you."- he whimpers into your ear before his lips travel down to your neck, he leaves sweet kisses on your skin as he slides the sheet off of you.

"Hyunjin."- you whine as he adjusts your leg and the tip of his cock presses against your wet pussy.

"Please let me put it in."- he whimpers as he bites down on your neck, sliding his cock against your entrance.

"F-fine."- you whimper when he squeezes your breast.

Hyunjin inhales sharply as he slowly pushes in, the angle doesn't let him to completely bury himself inside you but he's satisified to be holding you flush against his body as he slowly rocks into you.

You moan quietly as he plays with your breasts and keeps kissing you everywhere his lips can reach, trying to push his cock into your heat as much as he could.

"Y/n?"- he noses your cheek and you turn to look at him.

"W-would you consider staying here with me?"- he asks, his eyes big and hopeful.

"W-what? You really want me to stay here?"- you're taken aback as his arms wrap around you more tightly.

"Yeah. I can teach you my language and traditions. I can show you how to make art like mine. I can teach you simple spells and how to work with gems."- Hyunjin looks excited suddenly, forgetting to push his hips into you as you involuntarily clench around him.

"That- Why do you want to do all that?"- you swallow.

"I never thought I'd say this to a human or anyone for that matter, but I'm falling in love with you."- he says and the sweet scent of flowers is almost unbearable.

"You don't mean that. You're in heat and you're not thinking straight, it's your physical need to mate and when that passes, you will feel how you felt about me before."- your lips tremble.

"That is not true! I knew I liked you even before, I just didn't want to get myself into anything with a human. But now, I can't hold back anymore and I don't want to, not after I've had you like this."- he holds you tight.

"Yes, that's it. I'm just a human. We can't mate or anything. We don't even belong to the same realm. I need to- I need to go back home..."

"I don't want to mate, or have actual offspring. If I wanted a mate, don't you think I'd have one by now? I only want to spend my time with you. I'd give you anything you need, you would never be unhappy. And he could never harm you if you just stayed here. This could be your home, darling. You don't even remember where home is, don't you? You don't remember anything but being here with me."

"D-did you do that on purpose?"- your eyes water. "Did you make me forget on purpose just so you can keep me here?"

"That is not in the range of my powers and I would never do that. You fulfilled your purpose, so to say. I can take you home any time you want. It's your choice. I'm just telling you that I would be very happy if you stayed here with me."- he leaves kisses on your shoulder, his cock twitching inside you as you keep becoming wetter around him.

"I- I don't know anymore. I don't know anything."

"Let me help you decide."- Hyunjin smirks as he grips your hips and pushes you down on your stomach, his length slipping back inside you but this time he pushes in further, determined to fill you up completely and make you drunk on his cock.

"Ah!"- you whimper as you take it, your pussy sucking him in perfectly.

"Fuck, you were made to take me!"- Hyunjin groans as he grips the soft flesh on your ass and starts thrusting into you.

"Ah, ah, ah!"- you keep moaning, your mind cloudy as he fills you up so perfectly, your nails digging into his bed, your aroused nipples constantly rubbing on the soft fabric beneath you.

One of Hyunjin's hands sneaks around you and between your legs to play with your clit, the other hand still on your ass lifts up and he spanks you harshly.

You jolt and whimper loudly, your pussy clenching so tight around his pulsating cock that it almost hurts him.

"You like that?"- he smirks and spanks you hard again, the sound echoing in the room.

You moan and try to look at Hyunjin, he's all sweaty, sparkly and perfect, smelling so nice, loving you so good, his pretty wings framing his hot body.

He's like a dream and you're afraid to wake up.

Maybe you don't wanna go home.

Maybe this is your home, right next to him.

With that thought as he keeps fucking his length into you, his hand stinging your flesh, his fingers quick on your clit, you explode, cumming and squirting around him, making him even more wet and slippery inside you.

"Ah, fuck darling! Gonna breed you so good."- he whines, gripping your hips and fucking into you with erratic thrusts.

You keep moaning loudly, holding onto the sheets like it's your lifeline as he pistons into you harshly.

"Fuck! Y/n!"- Hyunjin groans as he cums hard, filling you up with so much hot liquid that in that moment you think he might actually get you pregnant even though you know it's impossible.

Hyunjin rides out his high before leaning down to kiss your shoulder and cheek.

He slowly pulls out of you, and you feel his cum gushing out of your fucked out pussy. Hyunjin can't help himself as he leans down and licks at you, making you whimper.

"What are you-"

"Wanted to taste you."- he kisses your supple flesh before lifting up. "I'll be right back."

Your mind is swirling as you're still coming down from your high, thinking about everything Hyunjin had said earlier.

You don't even register him coming back and cleaning you up.

"Are you okay?"- he asks as he carefully turns you around.

"I don't know what I am. I don't remember anything anymore, just feelings and fleeting moments. I barely remember my name, if you didn't keep repeating it maybe I'd forget that too."

Hyunjin's heart squeezes.

"Alright. I understand. You want to go back home, remember your life."- his jaw tenses. "I will make you some food now. And then we can get ready to leave."

"O-okay."- you nod, not even sure what you want anymore, tears pricking at your eyes as Hyunjin swiftly turns around and disappears from your eyesight.

Preparing for your journey back to the portal that will take you home took a longer time than you thought it would.

Hyunjin packed a lot of different potions and protective gems, food and water, and even some blankets to sleep in.

It took a few days to actually even step out of his house, the desire and passion that built up between the two of you was making it hard to part.

A big part of you wanted to stay by Hyunjin's side, but something inside you was nagging you to go home.

"Oh, wow."- you gasp as Hyunjin and you start making your way through the forest, the part where he lives is unlike anything you've ever seen, it looks like it came straight out of fairytales you used to read when you were little.

There are other houses like his around, so many gardens and magical flowers that emit some kind of light, making everything seem even more alive and bright than it already is.

Other sylphs are levitating around, greeting the two of you as you pass them by.

"Do they know who I am?"- you ask quietly.

"Yes, they know I've been keeping you safe."- Hyunjin nods.

"It's not the first time that we help out humans. It's my first time though."- he adds as he smiles at you.

"Another first. I should feel honored again, right?"- you chuckle.

"Of course."- he smirks at you as he leads you down the beaten path.

The first part of the journey is calm, the sights around you are beautiful and inspirational, making you feel somewhat nostalgic that you're leaving it all behind.

But as the sun keeps falling lower and the night draws in closer, you leave the safest part of the forest where only the sylphs, pixies and faeries reside.

It's getting darker and colder with every step you take, and in his lair, the dark creature can smell you.

A loud cackle escapes his lips, before it turns into a mad sinister laugh. It worked. His spell finally worked and managed to lure you out.

Unfortunately, he could also smell the sylph's flowery scent that makes the creature gag, but he doesn't worry because he knows; as soon as you step into the darkest part of the forest, he will easily get rid of the helpless little sylph and finally have you all to himself.

"This is a good resting point."- Hyunjin points to a spot between two trees that seem to be shielding it with the way they lean towards each other, their branches entagled together.

"Yeah."- you nod, exhaustion is taking over you as your eyes try to adjust to the darkness.

Hyunjin's wings give enough light to see where you're stepping and he leads you to the spot, levitating around while he creates a makeshift bed out of the blankets he brought.

"Lay down, my darling."- he gently tucks you in, a fond smile on his face.

"W-what about you?"- you ask sleepily.

"Sylphs can be awake for days, so don't worry. I will be on guard while you rest."- he gently caresses your face.

"Okay."- you nod, falling asleep in an instant.

Commotion wakes you up with a jolt, your eyes wide as you sit up abruptly.

You hear sounds of a struggle before your eyes can even make sense of anything, a flurry of lights moving quickly in front of you, creating wind that picks leaves and branches up off the ground, messes up your hair and makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

"Hyunjin?!"- you panic, trying to understand what it is you're looking at.

You hear creepy grunts on your left and you quickly turn towards the source of the sounds and see a little creature so ugly, with big dark eyes, huge pointy nose, sharp and menacing teeth.

For it being so small, it's hands are big, ending with huge claws at the end of it's fingers.

At first, you can't even move or utter a sound as it comes closer to you, lifting it's hands up threateningly with a sinister smile. Fear traps you in place and all you can do is look at the danger that's about to rip your flesh to pieces.

Finally, you let out a shriek as it comes near you, the stench of it making it's way to your nostrils and making you gag.

You shield your face with your arms, leaning away from the monster as you await to feel it's sharp nails digging into your skin.

But, all you can hear is a quick zap and a squeak, and you feel the smell of something burning before gentle hands are placed on your shoulders.

You flinch in fear, tears streaming down your cheeks, but it's Hyunjin's soothing voice that brings you out of the state of utter terror.

"Hey, hey, it's okay y/n. It's just me."- he caresses you gently.

You slowly open your eyes and gasp when you see the cuts and bruises on his skin.

"W-what happened?"- you ask.

"We were attacked by goblins. Don't worry, I managed to fight them off. For now, at least. We're coming up to the most dangerous part of the forest. Where he lives. But I won't let anything hurt you, okay?"- Hyunjin promises.

"You're hurt."- you say, tears still making their way down your cheeks.

"It's okay, I brought a lot of healing potions."

"I'm scared."- you sniffle and Hyunjin wraps his arms around you, bringing you into his embrace.

"Me too. But I will do everything that's in my power to get you back home safely."- he says, his soft lips kissing your skin and catching your falling tears.

You look at him and he melts, leaning in to kiss you as he can't help himself.

"Please don't."- you move away after a moment. "It's going to be harder to leave."

"I know."- Hyunjin smiles sadly. "You know we can still turn around and go back to my home where it's safe."

"I-I can't, Hyunjin. I don't know why but I need to get to that portal."

He suspects that your need to leave is actually the dark fairy's spell, and he knew from the beginning that the dark creature would get what he wanted, because there was no way Hyunjin could fight him.

But he had hope that you would be strong enough to resist the spell and stay with him, that he could somehow keep you safe and make his home yours too.

The sylph knows that the dark fairy is much more powerful than he is and there's no way he won't try to take you as soon as you enter the deepest part of the forest, but Hyunjin feels okay with inevitably dying by the bloodied hands of the monster if he manages to somehow keep you safe.

As you fall asleep again, Hyunjin holds you in his arms the whole night, his hands gently caressing your face as he looks at you fondly, wishing you would just come back home with him, but he knows it wouldn't be right to make you do anything against your will.

Even with the arrival of morning, the sun never manages to shine the path you're walking on.

The forest is too thick, enveloped in perpetual darkness, danger lurking around every corner.

You can hear all sorts of creatures scurrying around in the shadows, red eyes hidden in the bushes following your movements as you clutch onto Hyunjin's arm.

You don't speak, there's a lump in your throat as your wide eyes survey the place, your fingers digging into the sylph's smooth skin any time something frightens you.

"Shh, it's okay."- he tries to convince you but he knows he's leading you straight to the danger and himself right into a death trap.

As you near the almost complete darkness, everything becomes eerily still and quiet, so much so that you hear your heart beating inside your ears.

"We need to be extra careful."- Hyunjin whispers into your ear as you shiver and keep holding onto him.

You've never seen a place so dead, so silent, and the fear inside you creeps up your spine, to the back of your neck, lifting the hairs on your skin.

A heavy feeling weighs on your chest as it becomes harder to breathe, and you look up at Hyunjin's face to see that he looks frightened too.

"He's here."- Hyunjin swallows, the color draining from his face as the two of you hear a chuckle echo between the trees.

"At last, we meet. Sylph. You've something that belongs to me."- a deep voice talks calmly, a smirk evident in it and you keep turning to try and see where the creature is but you can't see anything except darkness.

"She doesn't belong to you! You can't take her!"- Hyunjin raises his voice but you can hear how it trembles.

The dark creature can smell the fear and it makes him excited as he laughs loudly, the deep laughter making your heart beat even faster.

"I can take whoever I want."- the creature says and a dark mist starts swirling in front of you, almost blowing you back from the speed of the swirling before he finally appears in front of you.

You gasp as you look at him, you were expecting an ugly monster, somewhat similar to the goblins but even bigger and scarier.

But what stands before you is a beautiful man with raven dark hair, his facial features are perfect, his lips look plump and soft, his physique is elegant but strong, the black suit emphasizing the grace he moves with, gliding as his big black wings move slowly.

What scares you the most are his eyes, completely black, like an abyss of nothingness, devoid of any emotions as he stares at you and smirks.

"Come here, little one."- he says and you quickly shake your head in fear, but your legs feel the need to move.

It's like something has gotten a hold on you and is pulling you directly towards him.

"Fight it, y/n!"- Hyunjin begs as he rummages through his stuff and tries to find a protective potion he has made.

You try your hardest to fight it but your legs keep moving towards the dark creature.

"Take this, you monster!"- Hyunjin finally finds the potion and throws the little bottle at the dark fairy's feet.

It explodes, the smoke lifting up but ultimately it did nothing as the creature starts cackling.

"It's funny to see you trying to kill me, little sylph. Try harder."- the creature says as you still struggle, falling down to your knees and trying to hold onto the ground, tears gathering in your eyes.

Hyunjin knows there's no way he can kill the creature but he tries again, chanting the strongest protection spell that exists, holding a black obsidian stone in his hand.

The dark fairy laughs again, the stone breaking into thousand little pieces and Hyunjin gasps as he looks at his open palm.

"I've had enough of these games."- the creature growls and waves his hand in Hyunjin's direction, lifting his body into the air and smashing him into one of the trees.

You scream as Hyunjin's body hits the floor with a thud and he groans in pain, clutching at his stomach.

"Hyunjin!"- you want to run to him but you can't move. "P-please, don't hurt him! Please!"- you look back at the creature who levitates closer to you, the fear inside you growing, threatening to swallow you whole.

His face breaks into an evil smile, sharp teeth showing as he lifts his hand and suddenly you hear Hyunjin gasping for air as the creature chokes him without even laying a hand on him.

"Stop it! Stop! Don't kill him!"- you beg on your knees, trying to grab at the creature but he levitates up, bringing Hyunjin up with him, sliding his back up the tree, his wings shredding to pieces as his eyes widen in pain and he keeps trying to breathe in but he can't.

"Please!"- you cry out.

The creature laughs, releasing Hyunjin and letting his body hit the ground harshly, the sound of bones cracking makes your skin crawl as your head snaps in the direction he fell.

Hyunjin's limp body lays under the tree, thick blood pooling around him like a dark sea that's drowning him and taking him away from you.

"H-Hyunjin..."- you whisper, your chest constricted as you heave for air.

"Forget about the sylph. You don't need him. You only need me, little one."- the dark creature smirks wickedly.

You want to scream at him, cry, hit him, run to Hyunjin but it's like you have an invisible leash around you that pulls you towards the dark fairy as he starts leading you towards his lair.

You try to fight it but you can't, your legs tripping over branches as they take you further away from Hyunjin's lifeless body, as if they have a mind of their own.

When you finally enter the lair, huge wooden doors close with a loud bang, making the entire room shake as you fall down to your knees.

The creature looks at you with a wide smile on his face.

"Finally."- he exhales. "Finally, you're exactly where you belong, my little sweetheart."

"D-don't come near me!"- you shriek, falling backwards on your butt as your back hits the wall.

The creature floats towards you, his hand lifting up, and you flinch, waiting to feel some kind of pain he'd inflict on you.

"I won't hurt you."- he says and you can feel a soft caress on your cheek even though he's not directly touching you.

"You killed Hyunjin, you monster!"- you scream out and the creature growls angrily, his hand lifting up a chair that was on your right, smashing it into the wall.

You shield yourself with your arms, a whimper coming out of your mouth.

"Don't say that sylph's name anymore! He got what he deserved, though I think I should've made him suffer more. I should've ripped him up to pieces before killing him. I held back only because of you, my sweet."- he says.

"Wow, thank you."- you say sarcastically. "What the fuck do you want from me? If you want to kill me, just do it already. I'm just a human anyways, I can't possibly fight back. Just end it now."- fresh tears start falling out of your eyes.

"Don't say that! You're supposed to want to stay with me!"- the dark fairy clenches his fists in anger. "We will get there. As soon as I get you all under my spell."

"Why me?"- you ask desperately.

"Because I've been in love with you my whole life. Even when I was just a fairy. But you didn't notice me. I tried everything, I sang to you and called to you, I was the river, the tree, the sunlight. But you ignored every call of mine and I knew that white magic would never help me get to you so that is why I became like this. I have no soul now but still I crave you. So, you owe me in a way, I made myself evil just to get to you. You owe me."- the creature repeats lowly.

"I don't owe you anything! That was your choice to go to the dark side."- you protest.

"I did it because of you!"- he gets angry again, lifting his hand up in your direction.

You jolt but he doesn't touch you, he lifts up the necklace Hyunjin clasped around your neck for protection and smashes it into pieces.

"You don't need this anymore. I'll make you forget him. I'll make you forget everything."- he smirks as you cry quietly. "You should only remember one thing."

"W-what?"- you whimper.

"My name. Felix. It's the only thing you'll come to know."- the dark fairy cackles deeply as he turns around and closes you into the little room.

All the fear and pain clutching onto your being turn into exhaustion and you fall asleep on the floor, feeling abandoned and terrified.

You wake up on the bed, with Felix hovering near you and when you realize you're not with Hyunjin anymore and that he's probably dead, your eyes water instantly.

"Shh, don't cry."- the dark creature appears before you, holding something in his hands.

"P-please."- you scoot as far away as you can from him.

"It's okay. I have something for you."- he shows you a cup full of some weird black liquid.

"What is that?"- you hiccup.

"You have to drink it."- he says.

"No."- you shake your head quickly. "I'm not taking anything from you. I want to die."

"Don't talk like that!"- Felix almost gets angry again, trying to calm down so he can have better control over his powers. "You're going to drink it."

"No, I won't!"- you cross your arms over your chest.

Felix is swift as he corners you, his hand gripping your chin and you gasp as your eyes widen in fear.

"Don't make me break your jaw."- he threatens lowly and as you stare into his completely black eyes, you know he's not joking around and you have no choice but to do as he says.

You let him bring the cup to your lips and you drink, almost throwing up at the disgusting taste but Felix makes you drink it all.

You cough when he moves his hand away, grabbing at your throat as you feel a slight burn.

"W-what did you give me?"- you whimper.

"It's a concoction to protect you from good magic. No one will take you away from me, not even yourself."- he says, before his hand grabs yours.

Before you can pull away, he starts chanting, his voice getting deeper and deeper the more he speaks, shivers run through your body but you can't move away from him.

You feel something building up inside you, something dark and heavy, akin to when the sylph held your hand and chanted too.

The sylph. What was his name again?

You couldn't remember. You remember his shiny wings, his pretty face, his touches and kisses but suddenly you can't remember his name.

Hot tears slide down your cheeks as the darkness keeps growing inside you, swallowing your insides, poisoning you with thoughts only of Felix.

"There, there."- your eyelids feel droopy as Felix lays you down. "You'll be okay, little one. Sleep now and we will continue tomorrow."

Day by day, the creature keeps pouring darkness into you, and you cannot fight it, your soul keeps becoming more and more tainted, shrinking and leaving a gaping hole inside you.

Your mind is slowly becoming blank, like a clean slate that he can mould however he wants.

You can't remember anything anymore, not even your name, only snippets of the forest, some kind of fighting, some kind of humming and glinting.

But it's all meaningless, the only thing that's clear in your mind is Felix.

"Come here, little one."- Felix beckons you, his hands patting his thighs and you follow mindlessly, sitting down in his lap.

"Tell me, do you like the dress I made for you?"- he asks, his hands on your waist, caressing the black lace that adorns you.

"Yes, Felix. I love it."- you nod and he gives you a smirk.

"I knew you'd like it, but I feel like you would look even better without the dress, what do you say?"

"Whatever you want, Felix."- you look at him, your reflection seemingly small in his big black eyes.

"I want you to let me kiss you."- his lips are closer to yours now, his breath hitting your face.

"Okay."- your eyes close as you wait for him to claim you.

His plump lips press on yours and move gently, contrast to all the anger you witnessed from the creature and you surrender into the kiss as he wraps one arm around your waist and the other tangles in your hair.

Felix nibbles on your lip as his hand slides down to grip your ass and massage it, your lips part as you whimper and he takes that chance to slide his tongue inside, dominating yours as he tastes you.

A little part inside you wants to pull away because deep inside you know he's a monster, he's pure evil, he influenced your mind to obey him with magic but the darkness he fed to you overpowers anything else inside you and you comply when he pulls your head back and starts kissing your neck.

"I've waited so long to have you."- he mumbles against your skin, his wet lips dragging on your sensitive skin, biting into the soft flesh to mark you.

"You'll give yourself to me, won't you sweetheart?"- he whispers sweetly and you can't say no.

"Yes, Felix."- you moan as he grips your thighs.

His hands slide up as he smirks and grabs your breasts, massaging them and pinching your nipples, making you squirm in his lap as you get more aroused with every touch.

You feel his bulge under you growing and you gasp as he presses against you, the hotness between your bodies pulling you in closer to him as you grab onto his shoulders and grind your wet cunt against him.

"My little sweetheart is so eager, hm?"- Felix chuckles, pushing up into you.

"Mm, yes."- you moan as he licks at your collarbone.

"I need you to do something for me before I give you what you need the most."- his deep voice rings in your ear.

"Anything."- you say, like you're hypnotized.

"Get on your knees for me, my sweet."- he commands and you obey without questions, kneeling between his spread legs.

The way you look up at him patiently and innocently, waiting for him to give you his next command almost makes him crumble.

He chuckles lowly as he slides his pants down, his huge cock almost smacking you in the face.

You gasp as you look at it, you don't think you can even take all of it and a pout forms on your face.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"- his hand cups your cheek, thumb rubbing your skin gently.

"It's so b-big."- your lips tremble.

"I know."- he smirks. "It's gonna feel good when I put it inside you, don't worry. Just taste it a little bit, okay?"

"Okay."- you nod, leaning in to give his swollen head a few kitten licks.

"Good sweetheart. Come on, put your pretty lips around it."

You obey, lips wrapping around him as you suck lightly, his pre-cum sliding down on your tongue, spurring you on to take more.

Felix groans at the way your lips stretch around him and the way you keep trying to take more in, even though you physically can't.

"It's okay."- he says as he pats your head, hearing you whine in frustration around him.

"That's enough."- he says and you slide off of him with a pop, a string of saliva connecting you to his member.

"Lay on the bed for me."- he says and you walk towards the bed, stripping out of your dress and laying down naked.

Felix follows you, stripping teasingly as you stare up at him and salivate at the sight of his body.

"Spread your legs."- he smirks as he kneels on the bed and you do as he says.

He scoots closer to you, gripping your legs and moving them up so your knees press onto your shoulders.

"I'm gonna fill you up so good, my sweet."

"I-is it gonna hurt?"- you swallow the saliva that gathered in your mouth.

"Just a little bit. But, I already prepared you with my potions and spells. You'll feel satisified like you've never felt in your life."- he chuckles, grabbing his heavy cock and sliding the head on your wet folds.

You almost missed how wet you got, and you moan when you feel him pressing against your little entrance, making it stretch around the head.

"F-Felix!"- you whimper as the tip breaches in, and your hand looks for his.

He grabs your hand, holding it tightly, his other hand playing with your breast as he slowly pushes his thick, long, veiny cock inside you, making you almost black out from the pleasure the big stretch is giving you.

"Mm, so big! S-so full."- you whimper as he keeps filling you up so much that you have no clue how you're even fitting him inside you and you don't care because he feels so good, so perfect and hot inside your little hole that you feel hypnotized.

Felix can smell the sylph inside you, he knows that he fucked you and anger builds inside him at the thought of that weak whiny sparkly creature having you before he ever did.

His hands grip your thighs as he presses you harder into the bed, pushing the rest of his cock inside you harshly, his heavy balls resting on your ass.

"Ah!"- you whimper, pleasure coursing through your veins and overtaking you as you completely give into the creature, the feeling of being powerless under him makes you equally scared and aroused.

Felix doesn't waste any more time as he start dragging his heavy cock inside you, slamming down onto you and you moan loudly, holding onto the sheets as he fucks you like he's feral.

It's supposed to hurt, in your logical mind you know that, but it's the exact opposite.

The faster and harder he splits your cunt open, the wetter you get, feeling more and more pleasure building up inside you, feeling your body becoming pliant to him, ready to take all of him any time he wants that.

"Finally, my sweet. You're doing so good for me, such a warm and tight hole for my cock."- the dark fairy smirks at you, his black eyes boring into your soul as your breath gets taken away.

You gasp for air as he fucks you with such strength that the bed breaks beneath you, your eyes water and your nails dig into the skin of his biceps right as you cum, harder than ever in your life, squirting around his pulsating cock.

"Mm, so beautiful when you cum for me."- he smirks, fucking you even harder and you can't speak, you can only whimper and moan as he keeps fucking you tirelessly, changing positions a few times, taking out orgasm after orgasm out of you.

"P-please."- you can't take any more, your pussy throbs with sensitivity as he fucks you from behind, the angle making him bury his big cock even deeper inside you, the bulge in your tummy evident.

"Shh."- Felix shushes you as he grabs the supple flesh of your ass, his hips fucking into you three more times before he finally cums, ropes of it keep filling you up endlessly as he groans lowly behind you, leaning down to bite on your shoulder while he rides his high.

"You did so good for me. Took me so well. Feels good?"- he asks, gently caressing your hair.

"Y-yes."- you whimper meekly.

"See, I told you that you'd feel satisfied."- he slowly pulls out, his cum gushing out of you and as he turns you to lay on your back, his spent cock twitches at the sight of your fucked out pussy oozing out his cum.

Felix can't help himself as he leans in, his hands on your inner thighs and he buries his face inside you and starts eating you out hungrily, tasting his cum mixed with yours.

There is no trace of the flowery taste of the sylph and he smirks to himself as you tremble from overstimulation.

"P-please, a break."- you beg and he lifts up.

"I'll give you a break. But, you should get used to this from now on."- Felix smirks as he tucks you in, you're already half asleep as you look up at him.

Your lips part to speak but he shushes you.

"Sleep, my sweet."

After the blood had almost drowned Hyunjin, miraculously his eyes opened, he took a deep breath in and then coughed out more blood.

His whole body throbbed in pain like he never felt before and he knew in that moment that he couldn't fly or walk.

His wings were torn to shreds, skin and flesh ripped on his back, his legs were broken but somehow he survived.

Before he could even assess the extent of the damage, you appeared in his mind.

Your absolutely terrified expression, your tears flowing like a river, your whole body trembling as you fought not to follow the dark fairy but you had no choice as his spells were strong and his influence on you had you in his grip.

The usually peaceful sylph, only fighting when it'a out of self-defense, felt rage unlike ever before bubble up inside him.

Despite the horrible pain burning him on the inside and out, the amount of blood he lost, Hyunjin crawled into the nearest cave, the rage helping him kill a goblin with his bare hands, snapping the neck of the creature and tearing its limbs apart.

He spent days, weeks, months healing and getting stronger, as he found solace in the darkness, his once pure soul turning more and more tainted as he practiced the darkest forbidden magic he could find, conjuring up all sorts of apparitions to teach him their black magic, in turn telling them all the secret places his sylph, pixie and fairy friends lived.

The apparitions would smile from ear to ear, big sharp teeth happy to devour all the unsuspecting light beings, tear them to shreds, destroy their homes and spread their darkness in every corner they could find, their bellies full of hunger for chaos and death.

Hyunjin knew what he was doing was pure evil, and he knew there was no going back from that, as he woke up one morning with horrible pain in his back that had him screaming in the cave, his shrieks echoing off the walls and into the forest, scaring even the goblins and other evil critters away.

Big black wings covered in thick blood sprouted violently from his back, tearing through his skin as he wailed.

His eyes filled with darkness, becoming completely black like a void of nothingness.

His anger made him lift up his hands, as the whole cave started shaking, the stones started cracking, the loud rumble almost causing an earthquake as the cave finally turned into dust.

Hyunjin emerged from it, his big wings lifting him up as a wicked smile danced on his lips.

There is only one thing in his mind now.

Saving you from the clutch of Felix and killing the dark fairy with his bare hands, making him suffer like he did to him and you.

Your days became a blur, you didn't even feel like a person anymore, you had no idea who you were, what your name was, how you came to be.

All you knew is that your purpose was to serve Felix so that is what you did.

Whatever he ordered, you would obey, becoming a shell of a human being, just existing to please the dark creature who had underestimated one thing.

He underestimated the very thing that brought him to the state he's in now, the pure infatuation he had with you, the love that turned completely dark.

He had forgotten what love is, forgotten that that's what Hyunjin felt for you and what made him strong, stronger than Felix in his intention to seek revenge.

So, that day as Felix was working on some potions and you patiently sat beside him, waiting for him to tell you what to do, the front door was flung open from the hinges, smashing into the wall in front of it, the pieces of wood exploding all over the place.

Both of you jolted, looking towards the door and in the dust of the explosion, Hyunjin glided in with rage that was almost palpable as he breathed deeply.

You gasped, recognizing him instantly, even with the darkness around him, even with his eyes black as the abyss, black as your captor's eyes.

"Hyu- Hyunjin?"- something broke inside you, tears bursting out of your eyes immediately.

Felix growled as he stood up, shielding you with his wings.

"I thought I killed you, sylph."- he said angrily.

"You thought wrong. You're the one that's going to die."- Hyunjin's voice was unrecognizable, it wasn't the sweet voice that used to sing beatiful melodies to you or the cute giggle that would leave his lips whenever you said something silly.

No, this voice was deep and dark, almost scratchy, the complete opposite of the Hyunjin you knew.

"Hah!"- Felix scoffs. "I'd like to see you try, sylph. I've been doing this a lot longer than you."

"Goodbye, Felix."- Hyunjin smirks and before Felix can even react, Hyunjin lifts his hands up, lifting Felix together with them.

Felix growls, trying to fight back but as soon as he tries to send anything towards Hyunjin, the sylph catches it and throws it back into him, a gust of strong icy wind cutting at Felix's skin and smacking his body into the wall.

You sob on the side, scared and confused as everything slowly comes back to you and there is nothing you can do as you watch your once harmless and sweet Hyunjin waving Felix's body around and smashing him into any surface he comes across like he was a mere ragdoll.

You scoot into the corner of the wall, hugging your knees to your chest as Hyunjin glows red with rage, maiming Felix's already broken body and you close your eyes, your hands pressed on your ears.

Felix chokes on the blood that's bubbling up in his throat and he takes a few last breaths, his black eyes trained on you as he smiles, he at least had you for some time and he can die happy now.

And with that thought, Hyunjin flungs him into the wall one last time, cracking his skull and Felix's lifeless body slides down onto the floor with a loud thud.

In the deafening silence, your sobs are the only thing that fill it up with sound.

Hyunjin knows he's done a horrible thing but he also knows that there is a part of his soul that hasn't died yet, and before that happens, he needs to get you far away from everything that causes you harm.

"Y/n?"- he comes closer to you and you finally look up at him.

"What did you do to yourself, Hyunjin?"- you cry, your heart breaking at the sight of him.

His hair was now completely black like his eyes, his skin pale, black veins painted all around on his face, neck and arms, dark bloodied wings behind him.

"I'm sorry."- he cries, a thick black tear slides down his cheek. "I'm sorry."- he repeats as he comes closer to you, gently grabbing your face.

"I thought you died."- you say, your hands coming up to cover his.

"I thought I was dead too. But, somehow I survived. I had to save you. This was the only way. I can't go back though, I'm sorry y/n but I've done so many evil things. I killed with my bare hands and my teeth. I sent evil beings after all my friends, I got them all slaughtered violently, they're all dead because of me. I- I betrayed my own kind. I have so much blood on my hands now, I'm surprised I even have a little part of my soul left. That's probably only because of you. But, it's just a question of time before I lose that too and hurt you. And I can't bear to think about that so now I will take you to the portal and you will go home and forget about all this."- Hyunjin explains and you start crying again.

"B-but I don't want to forget you."- you grab at him and Hyunjin pulls you into his arms, the embrace that was once warm, now became cold.

"I know. But I'm not the same person anymore. Don't worry, when you go through the portal, you will remember your life and forget about me and that..."- Hyunjin looks at Felix's limp body on the floor. "Everything he did to you or made you do. You'll be okay."

"Hyunjin... I love you."- you cry and he clutches onto you.

"I love you too, darling."- he holds you tighter. "But we must leave now."- he lifts you up in his arms, flying you both out of your prison and towards the portal.

You hold onto him the whole way there, crying and soaking up his clothes with your tears.

What's left of his heart breaks when the portal comes into view.

"What's gonna happen to you?"- you look at the portal then back to Hyunjin.

"I will probably dissipate into the darkness at one point."- he says and you cry harder as you grab at him.

"It's okay. I'm okay with it as long as you're safe."- he smiles, sharp teeth revealed as he looks at you with those eyes full of blankness, making you shiver.

"I'm sorry, Hyunjin. I should've listened to you and stayed at your home. None of this would've happened. It's my fault that you're like this now."

"No."- Hyunjin quickly shakes his head. "I chose to do this to myself so I can save you. Don't worry about it anymore. It's not your fault, okay?"

He pulls you into his chest before you can answer as he gently caresses your head. His hands clasp something around your neck and you gasp leaning back and looking down.

"It's black obisidian. I hope you'll wear it on the other side so I'm always with you even though you won't remember."- Hyunjin smiles sadly and your eyes water again.

He leans in and kisses you one last time before he pulls away and pushes your body through the portal.

You gasp as he disappears out of your sight, together with the forest and everything that happened for the last ten years you've been gone in the real world.

Your back hits the concrete and you hear someone yell out, asking if you're okay but you're too exhausted, your head lolling to the side as your eyes close.

Nobody could understand how you could be gone for ten years and still be the same age you were when you disappeared.

You didn't understand it either. You had no idea where you were for the last ten years.

It drove you insane as you thought about it every single day, wondering if aliens abducted you or something of that sort since you couldn't remember even a small fraction of a memory.

All you knew is that you had a black obsidian necklace around your neck, never taking it off, it felt warm and familiar and reminded you of someone but you had no clue who that someone was.

Your wandering thoughts made you go back to the forest, where you always found comfort ever since you were a kid.

Each time you'd walk on the familiar path, in the darkest corners of the thick bushes, you'd feel a presence lurking, but it never scared you as the leaves seemed to whisper and say;

"Hello darling."

Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @laughatdanger

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chelseeebe · 4 days ago

Text

take me (home)

18+. mdni. smut. violent descriptions. older!eddie x reader zombie apocalypse au. no use of y/n!

🎧home - daughter.

the world had gone to shit. the undead roamed the earth and the people were evil. can you learn to trust again? can you teach a grumpy, greying man to trust someone again?

an: hiiiii!!!! i am so sorry for my absence and honestly i have nothing to say about it other than i am lazy. i really got into the latest season of tlou and thus got inspired to write some zombie au with eddie wherein he’s a little older and a lot grumpier. i really want to make this a series but i know what i’m like so can’t promise anything

♱

robin is going to die.

in the middle of some forest in wyoming, all alone.

you’ve tried. and tried. again and again. every pharmacy picked clean for miles.

no antibiotics, not even a damn clean bandage you can wrap around her ankle.

“just go!” she screeches, collapsing on the snow-covered ground, “fucking leave me— please,” her voice begging now, desperate for you to just listen.

“i’m not fuckin’ leaving you here robin, i won’t fucking do it,” peering seriously through the trees for some shelter, just some relief from the cold.

she’s paler than usual, the infection now reaching her bloodstream. you’d hoped it wouldn’t get this far, that something would come along before you were made to decide between dragging her further through the state or to hunker down until she passed.

robin’s eyes slide from your worried face to somewhere behind, causing you to turn with haste, bow drawn at whatever it was.

a girl.

two girls.

with a shotgun pointed at your face.

they look clean, well fed and strong.

nothing like your grime covered body, littered with scratches and wind burn.

“stop right there!” pointing your arrow at the round-faced girl, “don’t come any closer or i’ll put one right between her eyes,” mostly a threat to the gun wielding woman next to her.

she doesn’t look scared, which figures. you wouldn’t believe you either. but her hands remain up, a gesture of peace and goodwill.

“i’m chrissy, this is nancy,” nodding to the other lady, “we want to help you, and your friend,” they stay put, a solid ten yards between you.

nobody wants to help anybody anymore. that wasn’t how the world worked now. not without some ulterior motive.

you scoff, keep the bowstring pulled taut, “i don’t believe you,” narrowing your eyes.

you could do it right now. take her out.

and then what?

that shotgun was dead-set on your forehead, you’d be gone before you could entertain reaching for another arrow.

“she’s not bit?” the other girl asks, one eye squinted behind the barrel.

you look at her, a scrawny girl with an angry face. she’s small but she clearly knows her way around a gun.

“n-no. she tripped— some miles back, cut her ankle, we’re clean,” spitting your words.

she hums, sharing a look with the girl in front.

“nance, lower the gun,” ordering her companion who complies easily, “we have medicine.. and food and water,” her foot creeps forward, leaves crunching underneath her leather boot. “she looks sick,” averting her gaze to robin’s pale face, “let us help you.”

you want so badly to believe her, more than anything in this world.

what if they weren’t lying?

was it even worth the risk?

“you can keep the arrow on me— if it helps,” nodding gently, “but we have to go now, before they come,” glancing around the bare trees, it was only a matter of time.

your bottom lip trembles, unsure of whether the cool feeling sliding down your face were tears or snow drops.

it’s the only chance you have of getting robin help.

fuck fuck fucking fuck.

fingers trembling as you drop the bow, running to get robin from the cold, damp floor as the two girls join you by her side, her arms slung around their shoulders.

the winter is bitter here, cutting your skin and stinging your lips. it’s why robin is so sick, with no relief from the weather and a severe lack of food, her body had succumb to the infection.

“okay,” nancy orders, “keep that bow up, take out anything you see and we’ll carry her,” hoisting your only friend from the ground, “our camp is straight ahead, through that clearing there.”

you do as instructed, sending silent prayers to whomever would listen that this wasn’t some sick ambush. that robin would be okay.

please please please be okay.

stumbling through branches and bushes, heaving laboured breaths as the hard wind sets in, whipping at your clothes.

it’s surreal.

a gigantic metal wall, almost knocking the rest of the air from your lungs. you wouldn’t make it out of there if things went south.

“steve!” nancy hollers, waving her arm around the thick fog, “open the gate! we have wounded!”

the metal creaks as a gap appears before your face, people rushing to the entrance— to robin.

she’s gone before you can protest, into the arms of a surly stranger.

everything’s happening too quickly. whizzing around your head like flies. one minute you’re in the scathing winter and the next placed in front of a screaming fire.

it’s dizzying.

robin’s not here.

you should go. try and find her, get her away from these people and their gawping eyes.

but you’re so warm.

and dry.

and your shoulders feel light for the first time in months.

it’s hard not to let the fatigue take over, you shouldn’t. you really shouldn’t.

yet your eyes blink shut, and your limbs relax into the tattered couch and suddenly everything is dark.

you awaken in the same room you were rushed into, with no recollection of the last hour.. hours? the sun had gone down, nothing but darkness from outside the windows.

your ratty jacket no longer hanging from your shoulders but a woven blanket placed carefully over your body instead.

did you take it off?

did someone undress you?

your lungs gasp for air, sitting upright as you attempt to come to grips with everything.

“hey hey—,” a familiar voice echoes. finding her round cheeks and soft eyes, a little reassurance even now. “you’re okay.. you’re safe,” speaking gently, for your understanding.

“rob.. where’s robin?” sticking by the crackling fire despite your urges to bolt.

she smiles, surely a good sign, “robin’s okay,” nodding, “she’s in the nurses station, she’s on an iv. a little worse for wear, but she’ll be okay.”

your head lols back, breathing out. that’s all that mattered. robin was alive.

“you slept for some time,” her soft chuckle ringing through the room, “you hungry? or you can shower first? it’s your choice.”

it just all seems too good to be true. the catch is coming, no doubt.

you nod anyway, if you were going to die; at least it was out of the storm.

chrissy, guides you through the halls, shooing away the nosy citizens. all wanting to get a good look at the new girl.

“they’re not all bad,” she laughs, walking straight past the line of people, “some soup i think,” an order thrown at the long haired man behind the counter, “and some bread, quickly if you can,” your eyes catch her wink, her authority was not understated here.

people respected her and her orders, that was obvious enough with nancy.

she ushers you over to a mostly empty table, gesturing for someone to bring water, a lanky boy with shaggy hair jumps at it, a jug in hand as you sit.

something felt.. off. it’s as if they had never seen someone like you before.

“how ‘bout we give her some space, hmm?” chrissy hums, shooing the crowd onwards. gratefully, they do disperse, leaving you to eat, “please excuse us, we haven’t seen new people in.. forever,” she chuckles, “i’m just gonna check with eddie about where you’ll be staying, no one’ll bother you here and then we can get you settled in, okay?”

her tone is oddly settling, calming your nerves as you tuck in, leaving you to the now empty canteen to plead your case.

she’d known it wouldn’t be easy, especially with eddie the way he is at the moment, but you and robin deserved a chance at this.

eddie huffs, pulling his chair closer to the oak desk, “it’s more mouths to feed— we can barely keep these people fed.. how’re we gonna help two more?”

she’s trying to fight your corner, you were more than capable and robin seemed pretty crafty. chrissy had asked her about the hand-sewn makeshift holster as they were taking her to the nurse. the group could use that, utilise your skills for good. for the betterment of hawkins.

“alright,” bowing her head, trying her hand at a new tactic, “d’you remember when hop found you?” blinking slowly, “all skin and bone. that nasty cut on your lip.. what’d he do for you? what if he hadn’t have helped you? hmm?” cocking her head to the side.

this angle was fool proof, eddie owed his life to hopper and he knew that better than anyone.

he sighs again and she knows she’s won. meeting her twinkling eye with a scowl she knows isn’t serious. “fine,” exhausted from the conversation alone, “but they help out, go huntin’.. whatever it takes to earn their keep.”

chrissy grins, she’d won the war. “she knows her way around a bow and arrow, give it a few days and i’ll send her out with nancy,” her eyes don’t mistake is worry, hand poised on the door, “this is good, eddie.. stop worrying.”

eddie begrudgingly follows her out of the room, shooing the growing crowd from your table. the sudden lack of eyes on you cause you to look up, meeting his heavy gaze immediately.

“you bit?” straight to the point. wasting zero time in getting to the gritty stuff.

your head shakes, pushing the empty bowl away from you, “not bit.”

he huffs, lips pressed tight together. he’s older than the rest of them, creases by his eyes and a slight greyish hint to his head of curls. nobody still alive today had had it easy, that was for certain. but eddie looks as if he hadn’t had it easy before the world turned to shit.

a mean, stoic presence that was necessary for survival nowadays. but theres a softness there too, hidden underneath his exterior. you see it flash across his face when you clutch your side, bruised and aching from the long winter you’d faced.

there’s a scar that starts on his chin, right through to his top lip. is it wrong to think it makes him look better?

it’s definitely unholy.

“everyone pulls their weight ‘round here,” laying down the rules, harshly pulling you from your adolescent fantasies. “and everyone answers to me, understood?” driving his seniority home, making sure you really got it.

your head nods on its own again, “understood.”

he wants to say something else, you can tell by his lips pursing but he doesn’t, slinking off back to the small room he came from.

you shouldn’t have come here.

it all felt like a mistake.

you certainly shouldn’t have let the older man in charge of this hell hole creep into your mind the way he so suddenly had.

chrissy puts you up in one of the empty houses, a little away from everyone else while you adjust to living with people other than robin.

she gets to stay in the large, main building. a makeshift ward that housed their sick and needy. you don’t envy her, surrounded by coughing and spluttering, strangers poking and prodding at her wound.

though at least her leg was now less hideously purple and terrifying, her wit and snappy attitude had come back in droves.

she sits now, legs dangling off the bed, “i just don’t understand why i can’t help in the kitchen or something?” her tone full of disgust, “you’re the one that can shoot, not me.”

“d’you only wanna work in the kitchen because vickie works in the kitchen? because last i checked, you can’t cook for shit either,” bursting into giggles.

“shut the fuck up, that’s not true, i mean— it’s not the only reason anyway,” rolling her eyes in jest.

it was nice, calming even, to joke like this again. to be able to. everything had been so serious for so long, it was kinda hard to remember that at the end of all this, you were just girls. girls with crushes and nonsensical fantasies. girls that liked to gossip and giggle.

you try not to think too much about it, for the sadness weighs too heavy. the knowing that your previous life was non-existent now.

“alright,” chrissy announces, striding into the room, breaking the tender moment in half, “you’re good to go,” throwing a thumbs up at robin. “i spoke to will and he said the infection’s all cleared up, just rest up for a couple more days and you should be back to normal.”

robin looks almost startled, the reality had hit her that this wasn’t just a fly-by visit and was in fact your new home. leaving the ward meant integrating properly, something neither of you had done in years.

you’re certain you can figure it out together, well it was that or you could sneak out in the middle of the night. you’d follow robin wherever.

the older lady smiles softly, “i trust you two’ll be okay together,” her eyes glide over to the window, where eddie looks sheepishly through the window at her, “i’ve gotta go, come find me in a little bit and i’ll get you some new clothes,” rushing off without another word.

you watch after her, watch how her smile grows ten times bigger, how his hand met her elbow to guide her away from your prying eyes.

“d’you think they’re together?” blurting out what was supposed to be an inside thought.

“duh,” like it were obvious, “you saw the way she smiled at him.. why?”

you scoff, grabbing the pile of robin’s discarded clothes, “no reason.”

her eyes narrow, you’d spent far too much time together for her to not pick up on your transparent feelings.

“do you have a crush on him?” giggling like a schoolgirl, “he’s old!”

“he’s not that old,” offering your hand for her to take, “besides, i don’t have a crush on him— i’m a grown woman, rob.”

“mmhmm,” limping her way out of the room, quieting the conversation before the snooping residents of hawkins could hear.

it’s not as if it’s a serious fantasy of yours, more likely just the result of five years with extremely limited contact with the opposite sex.

give it a week and you’d be over it, for sure.

weeks do in fact fly by.

assimilating into the town, slowly becoming a part of their community even if you’re wary and unwilling.

it’s not that the people here aren’t nice, it’s just a lot to handle.

eating at a set time— hell, eating regularly at all had been a shock to your system. the constant pang of hunger had been replaced by a feeling of fullness. your body fuelled by food and not sheer anger.

and sleeping, in a warm bed, all night.

the softness of it all had turned you into a new woman. no longer peering over your shoulder for the first sign of danger, now looking forward to playing board games with vickie and robin.

you can’t help but wonder if perhaps it’d be a mistake. to soften up and embrace this life fully. every other group had fallen, this one was no exception to that rule.

it doesn’t matter today. because today you were going out.

you’d been itching to get your hands on your bow again, after all, spending two years with it glued to your side, your hands felt empty without it.

the only thing stopping you, seemed to be eddie.

waiting at the armoury for nancy who is supposed to be hunting with him, but had asked you to step up in her place. it was a muttered excuse about being tired though you’re sure she could see how antsy you were getting.

eddie doesn’t even turn to give you the turn of day, shovelling a spare magazine into his jacket pocket instead.

you clear your throat, decidedly the best way to get his attention without startling him, “hey uh— nancy asked me to cover her shift.. she said she’d spoken to chrissy?” unwaveringly nervous under his gaze, “i-i’m more than ready, if you’re worried.”

eddie turns, giving you a once over before scowling. he blinks, as silent and stoic as he’d ever been. you assume he’s trying not to freak out over the sudden change

“can i trust you to save my life out there?” cut-throat. straight to the point.

“yup.”

he wavers, contemplating your answer before nodding, “alright. then let’s go,” swinging the shotgun over his shoulder and marching off towards the gates before you can even think to grab your bow.

it’s the first you’ve been out of the gates in weeks, but you’re not even slightly nervous.

in fact, you’re excited. as much as hawkins and it’s people were a welcome relief, it also felt a tad bit suffocating.

the forest smells exactly as you’d imagined it, crisp and earthy, with no signs of rotting flesh anywhere.

you scamper along behind eddie, appreciating every step that lead you further away from hawkins.

“so.. where are you originally from?” scanning the tree line for any signs of the undead. it was a mile or so to the traps by the river and eddie hadn’t said a word.

he huffs in response to your question, irritates by your mere presence. “indiana. you?” obviously not interested in conversation.

“well,” dragging your feet behind him, “i was born in missouri but i was in boston for college when this all happened,” shrugging, like he cared.

he doesn’t honour that with a response, keeping his mouth closed and his eyes on the trees.

“how’d you get to wyoming?” daring another question.

this does it.

he snaps, turning around to glare daggers at you, “y’know me and nancy don’t usually talk.”

you pause, humming softly, “well, i’m not nancy.”

“you sure aren’t.”

the audacity.

his nonsensical issue with you was becoming too much.

“i didn’t ask you to bring us here,” dropping your bow before you let the arrow fly right through his eye, “so you can stop acting like i’m some burden— because i’ll leave, you don’t even have to ask,” scoffing loudly, hoping you’d finally gotten through to him.

he goes to speak, a rebuttal to your home truths but you cut him off before he has the chance.

lifting the bow in a blink, your eyes move rapidly, finding the movement in the bush before it reaches eddie and takes a bite out of his shoulder.

“eddie, duck,” drawing the arrow back and firing without much thought over his left shoulder, sticking the groaning infected in the forehead.

if he wasn’t already before, eddie’s stunned into silence, taking heaving breaths as he finds the body on the floor and then meets your eye.

“i didn’t know you could shoot like that.”

no thank you, no appreciation, nothing.

maybe he just wasn’t capable.

“well, someone had to do it,” catching your own breath after a trickle of excitement, “robin’s about as straight as a circle,” his eyes flicker, narrowing slightly, “her aim i mean,” coughing through your blunder.

eddie hums, coming to lean against the large oak behind him, “right.. so.. she’s not into vickie then?”

your eyes widen, wondering if you had just guaranteed your exile from the town with a comical fumbling of words.

“no— i-i mean i don’t know, how would i know?”

oh my god.

he smiles for what must be the first time in his life, “relax, you’re good, she’s good.. y’know, that’s all good here,” swigging from his bottle.

oh.

maybe you’d actually done some good here, putting in a good word for robin with her friend could have zero negative consequences, could it?

unless vickie was violently homophobic, you suppose.

“is vickie.. good too?” pushing the boundaries for the sake of your love-sick best friend.

eddie chuckles, he actually laughs, you weren’t sure if his body was even capable of something so human.

“she is, she.. wanted me to let robin know but i guess you can do that for me,” his attitude far more relaxed than it had been the entire time you’d been here.

who knew that all it took to crack eddie was to almost put an arrow through his eye?

you nod, accepting your newfound duty, “i’ll put in a good word,” sharing a smile, albeit short and likely forced, it made your heart swell.

he looks away almost immediately, like it’s a struggle for him to get the words out, as if he was allergic to being nice to you, “there’s a.. a thing tonight, for hops birthday,” avoiding your eye at all costs, “you don’t have to come, but you and robin are welcome,” standing from his perch.

the nerves, or more likely excitement bubble over, “oh.. okay, y-yeah we’ll be there,” a failed attempt at playing it cool.

it was the first real indication that you were welcome to stay, robin needn’t have worried, not with vickie on her side. you on the other hand, had been slow to warm up.

which was understandable after years of scampering around the country with robin, protecting not only yours, but her life too. the people in hawkins had got comfortable, well adjusted to their lifestyle, they had no idea what remained outside of the walls.

well, maybe except for eddie.

“shall we carry on?” he asks now, gesturing deeper into the woods. straight back to business, seemingly unaffected by his brief moment of kindness.

you nod anyway, following him through the trail with an embarrassingly excitable thumping in your chest.

the music plays on, an old folk record from a band you’ve never heard of, accompanied by people dancing around.

it reminds you of old, a sweet, reminiscent feeling of college and the not knowing where a night will take you.

people laugh and talk and sing, though you find it easier to stick to the sidelines. still not so comfortable with these people to let your guard down completely.

evidentially robin didn’t feel the same, chattering away into vickie’s ear while simultaneously hanging from steve’s shoulder. she belonged here, that was clear.

you were just hoping that eventually, you did too.

before you can convince yourself to leave for the comfort of your own house, eddie joins you at the bar. sidling up to the empty spot without a word.

when will this not be so awkward?

he sighs, a bid to get your attention, “y’having a nice night?” resting against the bar, the sterile stench of the home-brewed moonshine wafts both from his glass and his pores.

“yeah! thank you for inviting us,” your eyes are on robin, and vickie, twirling around the room to the folk beat blaring behind. “it’s nice to feel normal again,” your heart aches a little, not out of jealousy but pride.

proud of your best friend, proud that she was herself again. she’d found a home in hawkins, and for that, you were proud.

eddie nods, following the pair too, “yeah.. i ‘ppreciate you coming,” his words come out easier now, warmer, more sincere.

the conversation stills, but it’s not so tense anymore.

when you finally conjure up something to say, eddie speaks first. knocking the words from your tongue.

“everybody in this room is looking at you,” he mumbles, keeping his gaze set on the crowded dance floor.

your cheeks burn in immediate response, was he drunk? trying to embarrass you? whatever it was, it wasn’t right.

“i don’t.. i don’t think so,” shying away.

eddie’s lips curl upward— definitely drunk if he were smiling at you again. “you don’t think so?”

“nuhuh.”

“i mean, i don’t blame ‘em,” he blurts, the slur in his voice only becoming clearer. “i would if i could bring myself to look at you,” swirling the liquor in his cup, a pitiful attempt at playing cool.

he’s trying to get into your head. it was so transparent that he had picked up on your juvenile crush and decided to exploit that.

“wha.. what are you doing?” completely exasperated.

eddie shakes his head, a strand of his hair coming free from his lazy bun to frame his face, “‘m sorry, i’ll see you around,” pushing himself from the bar, striding off before you can muster up enough courage to call him back.

the air turns cold, abruptly snapping you from your haze and back into the room.

“no, i have to go,” you announce, getting up from your spot on vickie’s couch. you’d spent the evening with both her and robin watching movies, actual movies on an old vhs the town seemed to share.

“d’you want me to walk you back?” robin looks up, the begging look in her eye only obvious to you.

you hum, contemplating whether pissing her off was worth it or not, “i should be alright, wouldn’t want to trouble you,” wiggling your brows.

it was honest, you hadn’t seen her so happy in years.

“thank you for having me, really,” heading to the door, “don’t do anything i wouldn’t do,” staring straight into your best friends eyes.

the evening air sends a chill down your spine, you wonder if wyoming ever gets warm because it certainly didn’t feel like it was capable of getting the sun.

a five minute trundle from vickie’s house to yours, that was all it was supposed to be.

but you find your feet wandering.

eddie’s words hadn’t left your brain since saturday night. what did he mean?

the darkness conceals his body at first, the outline of his figure only made obvious as you near.

the lowly strumming of his guitar is carried by wind, so you wait. watching his fingers pluck the strings, playing a tune you don’t recognise.

he’s blissfully unaware until the wood creaks from under your feet, his head shooting up to catch who or what was watching him.

“christ, you scared me,” eddie exclaims, banging his palm against the body of his guitar, “what’re you doing out at this time?”

you don’t speak. not yet. stood at the bottom of porch with a pounding heart and sweaty palms.

he sighs, knowing precisely what you were doing here.

“what did you mean?” a simple question, with a tricky answer.

he leans his guitar against the railing, staring straight down at the splintering wood, “i was drunk,” he states flatly, shaking his head ever so slightly, “i can’t even remember what i was saying,” he’s stoic, back to being the asshole who had questioned you your first day.

you can’t believe a word he says, a pathetic cop out.

“i don’t believe you,” stepping up to him, “you weren’t that drunk.. i-i know you weren’t.”

crack.

a branch snaps from somewhere behind you, the wind picking up and bringing a nasty chill with it. your jacket stupidly hanging on the wall behind your front door.

eddie stands up tall, but intimidating he is not.

“okay, what d’you think i meant? hm?”

there hadn’t really been enough time to consider. you know what you’d have liked him to mean but that wasn’t necessarily the truth.

“i don’t..” losing courage by the second, “i don’t know.”

blink.

your back knocks the brittle wooden fence, not hard or out of anger. his hands gripping firmly onto your hips eddie no longer a distance away but mere inches.

“do you know now?”

you nod, watching his tongue peek from his mouth, teeth grazing his lip, taking every inch of willpower not to smash his lips against yours.

a whirring, churning feeling settles in your stomach. a hunger different to the one you had felt for so long.

lust.

insatiable desire that is only ever quelled one way.

“too much?”

“n-no,” struggling to catch both your breath and any sane thought that was left in your head.

“not here,” he growls, fingers curling around your hand whisking your trembling body through the door, into his house. nobody came here. this was eddie’s territory and they respected that.

a house in the far corner that overlooked the tiny town. a watcher, guardian, whatever he wanted to call himself.

it isn’t that much different from yours, or vickie’s for that matter. they’d settled in what was a standard suburb before all of this, cookie cutter houses for cookie cutter folks you figure.

before you can even form an opinion on his decor, his hands find your hips again, twirling your body, taking instant control over the situation.

you’re not even certain that this wasn’t some alcohol-induced dream. you’ll awaken any minute now with an uncomfortable feeling and no longer possess the ability to look him in the eye.

the way your arms snake around his neck feels mechanical, a habit you’d had for years even.

eddie blinks, knocking his forehead against yours, “can i?” his age showing through his gentle words.

“please.”

closing the space to crash his mouth to yours, his body knocking into yours in a hopeless attempt at clawing his way closer.

the tension snaps at long last, lighting the ignition that awakens you. you can’t get enough, can’t get any closer, not with your chest pressed flat against his, hips grinding mindlessly for any hint of relief.

it’s been so long since you’ve felt another touch like this. so long since you’d even entertained the idea of having this again. and now, within a matter of weeks, eddie had forced his way into your mind, his tatty leather jacket and gruff voice were now imbedded within your veins forever.

eddie hums, trying to pull back but your lips are unrelenting, not willing to let him work his way out with misspoken words.

“not.. not here,” he gasps, walking your bodies down the creaking hallway.

his hands don’t stop, roaming everywhere they can reach, slipping underneath your shirt and back down into the backs of your jeans. grabbing and caressing your flesh, utterly encapsulated by exploring every inch of you.

your lips part again as you reach his bedroom, dark and awfully minimalist. reminiscent of a typical bedroom you’d find yourself in on a saturday night once upon a time.

his grip doesn’t let you dwell on it too long, pulling you right back in with a kiss.

“wai- wait,” you rush, keeping a steady grip on his shoulders, “i thought you and chrissy..” reluctant to finish when his lips find your neck, his stubble grazing your skin with every movement.

eddie cackles, vibrating against your jaw line, “you thought.. what?” forcing you to finish your sentence.

you grumble, partly due to his talented mouth and the other for the hole you’d dug yourself into. “..together?” shifting your thoughts to your question though it’s useless when his teeth come out to play.

“no,” answering definitively, “not together, just friends.. from before,” his fingers skim your waist, bringing the hem of your shirt up with his hand.

your throat hums, a sort of half-moan, half-grunt, “oh.. i-i uh—,” losing your train of thought as his palm finds your bra, groping and grabbing over the thick material.

“huh?” he teases, drawing circles around the now erect nub with his thumb.

every slight touch makes your skin burn and your nerves work overtime to keep up and you aren’t even undressed yet.

“fuck, i don’t know— please just touch me,” sliding your hands underneath the collar of his jacket, itching to get it off.

eddie groans, letting go of your body to get his jacket off himself, his arms thick and tattooed. a shock to you, seeing as they were hardly seen from beneath the scuffed thing.

there’s so much about him that you’re begging to find out about, other than his name and the fact that he was a phenomenal kisser, you knew nothing at all.

your shirt is next, his fingernails scratching your hips as it’s lifted over your head, landing on the floor as quick as it was pulled off.

there’s no time to feel insecure, as you’re sent tumbling backwards, landing on the soft mattress with eddie not far behind.

“you’re beautiful,” he mutters, if it were any quieter you wouldn’t have heard it.

it doesn’t take long for your cheeks to burn, the heat rising from your stomach to your chest immediately.

he moves down, dragging his fingers along every curve on the way, until he’s knelt on the floor between your legs. touch like this feels so foreign, nobody had spent this much time and care on you even before the world went to shit.

he’s gentle, something you’d thought he was incapable of, tugging at your jeans until they rest at your ankles.

the air is cold but eddie keeps you warm anyway, his palms leaving burns in their wake.

a thousand and one thoughts rumble through your brain at once; what if you couldn’t handle it? what if he was repulsed by you? god knows that shaving your legs in the apocalypse was useless.

perfume and moisturiser were a thing of the past, you don’t even half resemble the wild girl from college anymore.

“it’s been a long time,” a fair warning, you could already feel the damp sensation rubbing between your thighs, there’s no saying how much you can take.

eddie grunts, his deep, rumbling chuckle making another appearance, “d’you think i care?” his fingers keep your knees wide open.

he doesn’t get it.

so you give him a hint. a really, very obvious one.

fingers curling around his wrist, “i mean.. before this started long,” keeping your grip tight around him.

cocking his head to the side, he smiles, tongue washing over his parched lips, “yeah, i heard ya. i don’t care,” breaking away from your hold to spread your legs further, trailing his finger tips down your skin until he reaches your clothed cunt.

skirting over your clit with a solitary finger, his gaze transfixed to your face, drinking up every single contortion, every curse and moan.

his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, teasing them down your thighs until the cool air hits your cunt, send shivers down your spine.

“shit,” he mutters mostly under his breath, “i’ve barely touched ya,” as if you weren’t already ashamed of how needy you’d already become.

“i told you..” barely a squeak, your cheeks burning in sheer shame for the pool between your legs.

eddie just tuts, refusing to repeat himself again. he just wants to hold you into the mattress until you’re begging for relief, shaking against his tongue.

but that’s a little much for the first time he gets to even touch you.

so he doesn’t.

instead, pulling you by your legs to the end of the bed, his grip on your thighs would surely leave markings in his wake. clutching on as if his life depended on it.

he stands, the tent in his jeans made increasingly obvious as he moves on top of your body. it’s both foreign and completely familiar all at once, like you and eddie have danced this dance a thousand times before.

you haven’t, of course.

you’d barely seen him smile before tonight. let alone this.

he scuffles with his jeans, keeping one hand wrapped tight around your thigh, keeping you open for him. not once letting his eyes flicker, resulting in an awkward fumble to get his jeans off.

it’s an impossible feat not to stare open-mouthed as his cock springs out of his boxers, already leaking and far bigger than you could’ve ever expected.

there’s a semblance to the first time you were ever in this position, a little intimidated while hungrily anticipating what was to come after.

you just hope you don’t scare him away.

“didn’t nobody teach you it’s rude to stare,” he bites, but the sarcasm is thick, dripping off of his tongue.

as if you were being scolded, your eyes fly upwards, bottom lip trembling, begging for a rebuttal but nothing materialises.

eddie takes full advantage of your flustered state, pressing down to kiss your puffy lips, grinding his hips tenderly against your own.

his fingers slide down from your hip to fist his cock, teasingly slapping the glistening tip against your clit.

agonisingly slow, drawing out every last second before everything would change forever.

okay, you’re being dramatic.

his cock harshly pulls you from the battle inside your head, nudging against your hole, gently knocking his forehead against yours.

a quiet, muted, “please,” is all you can muster, soft thighs keeping him as close as the space allowed.

with that, he slides inside, encased by the soaking wet warmth of your cunt. eddie’s lips part, grunting as his balls meet your pussy.

everything feels electrified, as if the universe had always meant for this to happen. your two bodies meeting was destined to happen thousands of years ago.

“fuckfuckfuck,” he groans through gritted teeth, beads of sweat melding together on your shared foreheads.

you need him closer somehow, deeper. until you can feel his cock in your throat and a buzzing in your head.

eddie presses his lips to yours in a haste, muttering rushed expletives into your open mouth.

you break away from his lips to moan aloud, throwing your head back against the pillow to allow him into your neck, which does with a grateful murmur.

“y’sound just as sweet as i thought,” he pants against your skin, sucking away but only lightly, not enough to leave any evidence of his presence.

your mouth is uncontrollable, pleasure overcoming your entire body, every stroke evokes ripples through your nerves.

“f-fuck eddie.. feels so good,” slurring your words, rolling your eyes to match. the closeness is inescapable, balls slapping against your thighs, his tongue rough against your neck and jaw.

cumming before all this was a rarity, but now it felt as if anything less would be downright impossible. your stomach flips already, tightening and turning with every pump of his hips, every time he brushes against your clit.

eddie groans, long and melodically, moving faster as he coaxes your orgasm from you.

“mhm, tha’s it sweetheart.. let me feel you,” pulling his face from your neck to watch your face full of bliss, ecstasy overcoming your features as the waves crash over, figuratively and literally.

your chest heaves, moving rapidly, “oh my god,” gasping when the wetness reaches your thighs, your release gushing, coating his pubes, his cock and his sheets.

“shit darlin’,” speaking softly yet with sheer amazement, “‘m gonna cum.. you’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum,” pressing his wetted lips to your cheek, breathing in your scent.

“please..” you huff, digging your fingertips into his back, “cum for me,” whispering now, plump lips grazing his ear, your words punctuated by his increasingly feeble thrusts.

the noises are guttural, coming from somewhere within. you’re too exhausted to truly care but can feel him pull out regardless, his cum spurting over your thighs, painting a perfect picture.

“jesus fuckin’ christ,” he pants, leaving a solitary kiss on your forehead, gazing down to admire the mess you’d made.

you’d like to say that that was only because it had been so long, but deep down you know that you’d only be lying to yourself.

“y’gotta get up,” he nudges, “gotta change these sheets baby girl,” speaking into your skin, though it does nothing but lull you further into your slumber.

“mmm,” shaking your head, “i wanna sleep,” nestling in to the blanket, hoping he’d leave you be.

“nuh uh,” eddie sighs, his arms coming to scoop you from the bed, carrying your tired body bridal style to his couch, “i’ll be quick,” setting you down to get to work.

you had somewhat, maybe foolishly, expected warm arms to wake you up, reality crept in and the harsh chill encased you instead.

paper crinkles underneath your arm, left haphazardly on his now-empty pillow.

‘gone on patrol. help yourself - e’

wow.

a gentleman.

you weren’t really expecting flowers or breakfast in bed but then you weren’t expecting to wake up in his house alone either.

it’s cold in here, you suppose he spends more time away from it than he does in it, which makes sense as to why he doesn’t heat it but christ.

you had to somehow sneak out of here and back into your own house without a soul seeing. at least robin would more than likely still be with vickie, just leaving the rest of this cursed town to avoid.

this wasn’t how you’d pictured this going at all.

he couldn’t even force himself to see you out? to make sure you got home okay after making you literally tremble beneath him? your release still all over his sheets.

you almost feel nauseous about how easily you had let him in, how utterly delusional you must have been to ever believe that this was even slightly serious.

getting yourself dressed quickly, too fast to let your self do something you’d regret.

maybe he was scared. he’d run off to protect himself..

no— he didn’t deserve your pity, not when a goodbye was too much for him to give you.

you refuse to dwell too much on your surroundings, trying to ignore the slight insights into who eddie was as a person. his guitar, the paintings, the books. everything that made him more human, not the machine you saw pacing the walls.

it’s quiet outside, still too early for the majority of the town to be up and pacing. you could slip right on by without anyone caring too much about where you were the previous night.

joyce wags her fingers as you pass by, sat on the porch with will, both completely oblivious as to where you were coming from.

robin isn’t home either; your house just as quiet as eddie’s had been.

you mustn’t dwell.

it was over.

a short lived fantasy that had sent your delusions running wild. this was the end of the world, there were no happy endings anymore, at least not with grouchy middle aged men.

you don’t see him for the rest of the day.

he’s not at lunch. or dinner. or even wandering around like he usually was.

robin can tell somethings wrong, roping steve and jonathan in to try and draw it out of you, or to cheer you up.

it didn’t matter, neither were working.

“we sing too y’know,” steve beams, standing at the other side of the table, his elbow almost knocking jonathan clean over.

there’s a loud protest from the boy, but the noises turn to static when you see him.

the leather jacket.

disappearing from the doorway the second your eyes leave jonathan, a blur that you weren’t even certain you’d actually seen.

how long had he been stood there? watching you, like a coward.

steve blurs before your eyes, unwarranted tears well up, forcing you from the table and out into the frosty evening air.

eddie’s no where to be found, not even a glimpse of his hair. it’s just you, the snow, and a desire to get as far away from this wretched place as possible.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson au

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harvestmoss · 2 months ago

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Witchcraft is literally out there for free!

I feel like most beginner witches start in Autumn, with the so called "season of the witch" but if anything, now is the time to start! This is the true season of the witch, the summer season!

Lots of beginners think that you have to buy a lot of the tools and ingredients witches use, but that's further from the truth. Witchcraft should be and is accessible to everyone!

Magic comes from within you. No amount of tools will do the magic for you, you have the harness the tool's and ingredients magical property through your energy and magic.

Magic with NO ingredients:

Singing, chanting, murmuring, announcing, praying, yelling - think of speaking it into existence!

Dancing, moving, exercise, yoga, clapping - As offering, or moving stagnate energy.

Meditation - Obvious, to clear the mind, and focus.

All your senses - Be aware of spirits talking and listen, or listen to the wind, talk to the wind, taste your food, taste the magical properties, see auras, see spirits or see visions, touch things and feel their energy.

Friends - Ever seen those "send thoughts and prayers" post? well that's because the more people we use for a spell, the more energy we give a spell. So if you're comfortable, ask your friends to send energy your way for a spell or wish you luck on exams, or jobinterview, or wish you a happy birthday, or to send healing energy by wishing you good recovery.

Charging, binding, banishing - through feeling, visualization, hearing and more. Charge your spells using your energy.

Magic with ingredients for FREE:

Physically you and people - Hair, nail clippings, sweat, blood, tears, etc.

Power of animals - Either your pet, or animals in your park, nearby forest, lake, ocean. Just being near them to lend their powers.

Botanicals - You can go outside right now to your nearby forest or park and pick up herbs, leaves, flowers, dirt, grass, etc for spells! You don't have to buy them

Your kitchen - You most likely have a spice rack and can use that for your spells, the same goes for baking items like flour, sugar, etc can be used. I know you've already bought these items and therefor used money but, it's free in the sense if you already had them.

The elements - Not just outside but they're also inside you! You breath air, your body heat is the fire, your skin is from and will be earth, you are made of 70% water.

Rocks - You don't have to buy crystals, you can find quartz in river banks and creaks or hag stones at beaches, or just rocks you like. from your drive way.

More magic for free I couldn't categorize:

Celestial bodies - You can easily work with celestial bodies like the earth (being that we're from here) and the moon!

Days and hours - Cast your spells on a specific day, no ingredients or tools required. if you want a spell of luck, cast it on a Thursday and so on!

Working with spirits - Talk to the plants, animals, forests, trees, your house, and more! The simplest offering you can do for no money is picking up litter in your are or forest or beach or park you like to go to. Dancing and singing are also offerings for zero money.

Thresholds - Cast your spells in specific areas like crossroads, graveyards, ruins, natur, or even in your own home such as casting dream spells in the bedroom.

Researching - You can find many online resources for free on the internet, from youtubers to articles, helpful image guides and blog posts. Remember to go beyond the witchcraft sphere. In order to find and identify the right herbs, learn from herbalists and foragers, not just witches.

Substitutions - If you don't have a certain thing, research and look further for something else. You don't have to buy that ingredient if you have something similar, especially in your area or in the realm of what you usually buy.

Low budget magic:

Tea lights - As candles.

Rubber bands - I always get rubber bands for free when buying eggs, and you can use rubber bands for binding spells or to hang your herbs up with instead of string and ribbon.

Tap water - Depending on your area i suppose, but you can use water for everything, even as an offering to spirits, they're probably thirsty.

Arts and crafts - Printer paper and pens that I've taken from office buildings that can be used to write, make sigils, and draw for spells and offerings.

Reused jars - From pickles to marmalade, you can save those jars and use them to contain dried herbs and spells. This can count too with bottles from vodka or lemonades. I use those bottles to store waters like river water.

Mentioned it already but... your kitchen - Your spice rack, baking ingredients, coffee mugs, glasses, scale, plates, pots, pans, knives, and more! I use a plastic spoon ment for soups in my kitchen for stirring my potions, I don't use those fancy extremely tiny detailed teaspoons. don't have a morter and pestle? place your ingredients in a bg and hammer it and role it with a rolling pin, should be good enough.

Even if you don't have access to nature in an aesthetic sense, there's still plenty of ways to do and perform magic. Nature still exist in the city. It's there in the dogs barking, the dandelion through the concrete, the bird shit on your window, the icy on buildings, the leaves on the ground, the pollen in people's noses, the sun in the area, the puddles from rain, the rocks rom car tires picking them up, the wind in your hair.

This is just what I can think of right now, I bet there's many more things out there in the realm of witchcraft for free because that's what witchcraft is. It's free.

#witchcraft #my spells #witch #witchblr #magick #magic #witches of tumblr #herbs #elements #low budget #low budget witchcraft #spellwork #spell #witch community #spellcraft #beginner witch #moon

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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PREY

PAIRING: Hunter!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Werewolf!Reader

SYNOPSIS: There’s blood on your hands again.

WORDCOUNT: 16.8k

WARNINGS: Intense gore, body horror, death, mutilation, weapons, firearms, knives, intended harm, violence, blood, descriptions of wounds, angst, fluff, protective!Simon, religious mentions, period time standards for men/women (1700s), etc.

A/N: The first of my reverse AUs is finally here! Enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The tale of the Werewolf extends back to around 2100 BC. It was written in The Epic of Gilgamesh, scored into a clay tablet by hands long buried—a corpse forever still in the earth so deep, the bones have yet to be found by greedy eyes. Perhaps the oldest surviving story in human history, and there is still a passage that bleeds into stories hundreds of thousands of years later.

In such, Gilgamesh, a man on the search for immortality, rejects a woman for the reason of turning her previous husband into a wolf.

“You have loved the shepherd of the flock; he made meal-cake for you day after day, he killed kids for your sake. You struck and turned him into a wolf, now his own herd-boys chase him away, his own hounds worry his flanks…”

And then, the tales spread, changed, through history and through spoken words of caution. Like water trickling from a well, down the shape of the wooden bucket delving deeper and deeper into a pit of age—of caution.

“The Beast of Gévaudan. Man-eater.” Through France

“He has a wolf-head, you know? Tall thing—short brown hair all over him.” Through Scotland

“Beware the man that changes shape under the full moon.” England.

Now, in the late seventeenth century, it all comes to a head. Even the people in 2100 BC knew that someone who changes into a wolf, or some bastard-like imitation of one, was very much real; it is very much an affliction that overtakes sense and reason. A curse.

Transferable down to the saliva of one entering your bloodstream.

You must never get within the beast’s sights.

—

There’s blood on your hands again.

Hunched over, your body quivers, and the bareness of your flesh in the moonlight is of little concern to you—trapped in a fetal position while the chilled wind howls.

Howls.

“Get out of my head.” Your fingers grasp at your scalp, pulling; ripping. A sob jaggedly slashes your throat open. “Please,” you rattle in a fast breath, the grass snapping as you writhe. “Get out of my head.”

It had happened once more, and you can’t remember any of it.

The forest is deathly still. No birds sing their songs—no breeze moves the long grass, patches trampled down around you as if a beast had staggered into the small clearing you’re lying in. Maybe it had. There are shadows that listen to your quiet panic, the low whines and gasping quivers of your throat; from behind the trees that speak in the way that only they could. The deep night creeps into you, and the moonlight bathing your flesh doesn’t push back the terror in your bloodstream.

Your body burns like you’ve broken every bone twice over, and judging by the blood stuck in between every line and dip of your skin, to anyone walking past, the analogy could be very real. Fingers flexing and bending, you try to force out the venom inside of your head with desperation befitting a dying dog, spine visible out of the skin of your back as you sob all the harder.

You tried to stop it—you had; you always do. But, just like every month when the full moon mocks you with its silver-hued face, it never works.

It never works.

Your eyes stare at nothing as you lay here, in this place of grass, blood, and bile, of corruption as deep as a vile sin of flesh. It came over you like a wave, fingers trapping your throat and bearing it to the caress of fangs. There were different names for it here, miles from your village and the terrified eyes that search the tree line; names coming from the hunters and their black deeds.

Shapeshifter.

Demon spawn.

Werewolf.

“I can’t take it anymore,” you shove the side of your head into the ground, pushing the torn earth away from the cuts of long claws. Tears flood the dirt until it’s wet and muddy, pushing the crimson stains on your skin away in long streaks. “It hurts, God, please, it hurts.”

The sound of your hysterics rises and falls in the stillness—the inactivity of fearful birds and beasts wondering if your fangs would rip from your gums and your claws would tear from your fingertips. Fur along your body the color of which leads to stories of their own spreading far and wide.

The White Wolf. The Specter of St. Francis’ Village. A hound from Hell.

More pale than snow, and sharper seen than a knife or blade through the black trees. Even if the memories of your shifts were fuzzy at best, there were flashes of those who’d seen your gargantuan form from the confines of their stone-cut homes. Those wide eyes. Yelling—screaming; sprays of blood as heads were separated from bodies—

“Stop!” You scream, your legs kicking out as your toes scrape the grass. “It’s not me! It’s not!”

There’s a call of alarm from deep within the woods, the flash of torches and bellow of hunting dogs. They’re running you down, you’d forgotten that in the depths of your breaking mind and body, and by the time your elongated limbs had set themselves back into a more human-like appearance, your spine cracking at every vertebrae, it had slipped your thoughts entirely. It always took you a long time to understand what had happened after…everything.

But even now, the shouts of the hunt are pointless to the visceral breaking of your consciousness, stuck between leaving bloodlust and knowledge of horror. There’s flesh in your teeth, and you wail before your fingers drag down your face, cupping over your ears. In the back of your skull, the panting of dogged breath echoes; running, blood, blood, blood. It’s a dance of fangs, of pale fur, staining every inch and flooding the back of your mouth. Drinking it down like water.

Flesh—lovely, disgusting, flesh rent and torn to the bone with smacking gums belonging to a square snout.

Who had you killed this time?

By the time the dogs had tracked your scent to your curled body, it was already too late.

“Here!” Male voices shift in and out on the backs of crows, hard and cruel. “It’s here!”

“Get the dogs on it!”

“It’s not me,” you mutter incessantly, not truly understanding what you’re saying as hounds burst through the bushes, all snapping teeth and slobbering tongues your eyes widen in an instant. Panting, your jaw clenches; long whines move your throat.

“What…?” Blinking quickly, the dogs surround you—having to be at least ten of them on their nimble legs and thin tails. Everything is distant to you; separated. A knife could be driven through your heart, and you wouldn’t even realize it until minutes later, bleeding out on the grass.

The hounds are afraid of you.

They dart forward and balk back, your scent driving them up a wall until rabid slobber drips from their maws. Torchlight pulls through the trees—quicker now, running. Fangs nick your shoulder and you yell, shoving up to your backside as the world swirls, shuffling away as the dogs snarl. Their eyes are red-huen. Drunk off fear and order.

Your head darts and shifts, blood dripping off your chin to travel down the flesh of your stomach and navel—so much crimson that the whites of your eyes are violent under the moon. Hands slipping over the wet grass, your face pulls and slackens in delirious confusion as you try to stand but fail. You cry out in sharp pain, and the dogs go wild in their kill circle, nearly attacking one another in anticipation.

You glance down and see the black crossbow bolt sticking out of your thigh.

The scent of wolfsbane in the air only then becomes clear to you, and the realization is slow. Wolfsbane—you’d been told about it by the village priest. It makes beasts of the night dumb and weak; minds unclear.

In a moment of clarity, the reason behind your incurable hysteria becomes clear.

Lungs heaving and eyes far-off, the hunting party bursts through to where you stay, and you look up in animalistic fear. Figures dip and slip into one another, faces becoming demons as the visages melt into twos and threes. You yell out, sniffling and sobbing, trying to back up until the hounds grapple onto your shoulder and rip a chuck out of your arm. Screaming, your hand moves back, shoving at its snout before hands staple themselves to your wrist.

“No!” You wail, injured leg dragging as you’re forced back into a heavy chest. Hot breath fans against your neck as multiple grips pull and touch you—shackling you down with rope and chains. Your throat screams itself raw, kicking and struggling futility. “Let go!”

You’re too weak—too drugged off wolfsbane and blood loss. Rotting teeth move across the canvas of a smeared painting, you can’t focus beyond the riot of your heart inside of your ribs.

Grubby hands snap under your chin, digging into your flesh as you cry, not able to move as the restraints are tightened. A silver muzzle is slapped over your jaw. Dark eyes shimmer as you rage—aggravating the bolt wound until fresh blood forms a puddle on the ground, which the dogs lick their lips at.

“Look at that,” a low, lust-filled voice eases out, and hands around your body tightening as you squirm, head spinning. Silver and wolfsbane. Your eyes snap to fight the sudden flood of fuzzy heaviness in your body. “Pretty little Hell-Beast, eh? Almost seems a bit strange to have the Spector be her. Think that hunter shot the right bitch?”

“Course,” another grunt, a hand grabs the top of your head, jerking it up as your head lulls along with the force. You can barely focus on the words being said. “He isn’t a fuckin’ twat. Killed a werewolf in the next village over, too. Heard he skinned the fucker and took its head for his mantlepiece—just like the vampire skull he wears.” A pause. The dogs are still barking—echoing out in the trees. You can’t feel your legs. “Isn’t that right, Hunter?!”

A shout is sent into trees as your panic breeds with the drug, eyelids drooping as your head is snapped and moved by your hair. Your buggy eyes don’t focus on the man until he steps into the torchlight, the crowd parting for him as the metal of your chains drags and clinks together.

It’s as if the very blackness of night takes human form.

The man, the Hunter, is tall—very tall. He looms like an aloof animal over most of the others here with his dark boots and his black hood, and yet, under the fabric, there is no whisper of his face.

Only the upper visage of a pure white skull, and two long, needle-pointed teeth where canines should be.

“Ghost,” one of the men laughs, groping at your bleeding thigh before you shriek, muffled from behind the muzzle, and weakly kicked out. “Good shot, Mate. Right in the meat of the thing. Gave a good trail for the hounds.”

Ghost blinks slowly, grunting under his breath as the large crossbow in his hands is shifted. He stays silent as your visible pulse hurries on as if you were a rabbit and not a wolf, watching from under the cover of his hood. The darkness of his clothes is blue in the moon—silver buttons down the length of a loose shirt and pants stuffed into boots. The hood is attached to a jacket, which itself extends down to his knees and sways lightly with every shift. The silent resting of weapons and tools is not lost to anyone.

Belt of filled vials and large knives; a firearm over his back, and two pistols hidden on either thigh. That crossbow was still in his hands.

Brown eyes openly dig into your soul, dead as a corpse, and your voice whines as your thigh is finally released with a laugh. Your vision blacks and comes back a moment later as you try to breathe from behind the muzzle, gasping. That skull on his face…you don’t like it. It scares you.

And the Hunter only continues to watch numbly as his wide shoulders stay stationary.

“Get the cage!” Someone roars, and you flinch, shrinking until a dog with short fur comes and nips at your ankles, the man holding you grinning sharply as you sob and shake.

“C’mon—expected more of a fight from you, Spector. Getting bullied by dogs, now? Ain’t that a twist of fate, then. Bet this devil’s whore can’t even walk with all that wolfsbane in ‘er, eh?”

A grumble of chuckles as the rattle of metal is in the distance. You grow more fearful, mind flashing to a burning stake and the trials you’d seen in village after village. No—no they can’t put you in a cage; they can’t put you on trial.

They’re going to make it hurt.

“Say we try it out.” A shadow comes closer and grabs you by the arm, ruthlessly shoving you to the ground. You cry out as your spine meets the earth, arms and legs kept under chains that tangle and screech in their metallic way. The rope that holds the muzzle pulls against your neck until you can’t breathe except in ragged wheezes.

“Go on,” they taunt, some holding back the rampaging dogs just to watch you flail and shimmy. Your face grows hot as you struggle to sit up—shaking so violently you can’t focus on anything but the quiver. “Put on a show for us, Beasty!”

Death would be better than this.

Tears hit the ground as the cage is finally brought into view, the men all groaning and annoyed that you hadn’t even attempted a forced shift or a desperate run into the trees.

Ghost’s fingers, you notice from the side of your blurring eye, tighten minutely around the body of his weapon. You do not doubt that he’s wondering if it would be easier to just put a bolt through your eye right now.

“Get it loaded up,” the Hunter’s voice is accented and gravel-like. As if rotting wood is being peeled back and scraped along gravel, he stares at you for a long moment and then glances at the dogs. “And get those fucking mutts under control.”

“Which one?” Is the low-blow joke, and the ruckus of loud amusement that follows makes you want to die.

It’s not your fault, how do you tell them that? It’s not your fault.

Your throat bobs in an attempt to speak, but you can’t move your jaw from behind the restraint of your face—held tight to you as the men come back over and grapple for you again. The priest was right, wolfsbane makes werewolves sluggish.

You can do nothing as you’re ruthlessly dropped into a silver cage, borrowed, no doubt, from the Vatican itself, and christened with holy water. But it was a funny thing, really, and the dark humor wasn’t lost to you even like this. There was nothing godly about this contraption.

Locked in, you shove yourself immediately into a corner and hunch over, grasping at your thigh as the bolt still leaks fluid in a long trail over the ground. The pain is so great in your head, that the physical agony is little—a bullet wound to a sliver.

Your temple slams into the metal, smacking into it as your eyes shove themselves closed.

Head hurts—hurts. I can’t think. Can’t think. It’s humming, my skull is breaking open.

Bile pools in the back of your throat, but the muzzle keeps it in, leaving you gagging as the cage is lifted with a grunt and carried by long poles; back to St. Francis' Village, no doubt, but you can’t…focus.

“Think you might ‘ave given her too much, then, Hunter,” one calls, slapping Ghost on the shoulder as the crowd follows after the panicking quarry. The large man only gives him a look from the side of his eye and the villager pulls away immediately, awkwardly chuckling before hurrying off after the others.

Brown eyes watch your bare body hunch and spasm, pupils wide as you’re carted off.

He’d been generous with the wolfsbane, truth be told. He’d expected you to be…Ghost’s dark brows pull in from behind his grim mask…he’d expected you to be different.

Humming under his breath, the Hunter watches the torches disappear into the trees and lets his gaze linger on you.

There was something…off.

Blinking, he turns, eyes studying the place where they’d found you with sharp attention that misses nothing—not even the birds that come back to settle into the trees again. Large boots shift through the grass, and as he’s re-settling the crossbow in his hands, his eyes find something glinting.

Watching, Ghost takes another step and brings his body to the item in the grass, hidden, before he kneels. Digging with large digits, the Hunter’s hands loop through the chain of a necklace, dragging it through the torn earth until he can gaze at it fully under the light of the moon.

Blinking in slight surprise, Ghost finds the body of a silver bullet hanging from the confines of a leather strap. Brown eyes shifting to look over his shoulder, the man listens to the cheers and merriment of the hunting party mutely. A simmering understanding brews in his gut. It’s only one that you could know from years of experience doing just as he had—hunting and being hunted in turn with a knowledge of all things dark and unholy.

It could never be easy, could it?

A low grunt later, the man sighs out a deep, “Fucking hell,” and moves to slowly stand, slinking back into the darkness.

—

They kept you in the cage and set it on display in the middle of town for days.

Shivering now from the cold more than the wolfsbane, you stay collapsed into yourself as people come past to poke and prod at you—even sticking knives into the slits of the cage and digging them into you like an animal until your flesh was marked and brutalized.

You don’t remember what it’s like to not be bloody.

The bolt wound was festering; infected. You dare not touch it, because the pain only makes you want to vomit, and if you do, you’ll most likely suffocate on your own bile before the trial ever happens.

Yet, on the fourth night of this, as your eyelids flutter and your body grows weaker, a shadow comes to visit.

“You weren’t born one.” It isn’t a question, but the sudden voice makes you startle.

Eyes locking onto Ghosts’, your mind flies with fear—thinking that perhaps there’s more abuse that you’ll be put through. But no…the man has no weapons on him tonight. Only a long knife at his belt. The mask stays.

You stare, unable to speak as your fingers twitch.

Grunting, Ghost’s head tilts, gaze moving up and down as you curl in tighter around yourself. A cold breeze rips through the square, and your eyes clench closed with breaking will. When you open them again, the Hunter is kneeling by the cage, and holding up something in his hand loosely.

“You going to behave if I take that muzzle off?” You nearly gasped at the hanging image of your necklace—a silver bullet on a leather strap; that dark and heavy thing usually kept around your neck. A reminder.

After a moment of wide-eyed staring, you nod quickly to his question, a desperate, pleading thing without the need to utter words. Please, you want to scream at him, take it off.

Ghost’s eyes are as dark as a mound of dirt, sharply intelligent and filled with an unflinching reality. He doesn’t care what you are, and he won’t until you speak to him and let him judge your character far before any courtroom can. The man knows what a lie is better than any priest.

“Good,” he says curtly, accent far more deep as he thinks, re-capturing the bullet in his palm and standing before he shuffles it into his pocket.

You can’t help the anxiety as Ghost moves forward, loping to the side of the cage with the side of his eyes on you incessantly. It’s obvious how his other hand lays limp on the hilt of his blade that, with only one wrong move, you’d feel the chill of the edge with no time at all.

But the temptation of getting this muzzle off was too good to ruin, and so, you stay as still as you’re able as crows call in the distance and the deadness of the town leaks into your blood.

Ghost moves his free hand and orders, blankly, “Closer.”

You hesitate, body tight before you drag your face closer to the bars, angling it parallel with the metal so the tight bind on the back can be taken up. The fear can be smelt the second your eyes have to break contact with his with the turn of your head—neither of you trusts the other.

Ghost hums under his breath at the sight of your broken body coming farther into the open light of the moon, the whites of your eyes all the more visible from under the slathering of blood and tears. He hadn’t been absent to witness the abuse you’d been put through, even if the coin from his successful hunt was feeding him at the inn, a small window allowed the tight view of your torment at the hands of the people you’d once lived around.

But the reality was that you’d killed people—scores of them—and yet the worst part of it was that he wasn’t sure if you even knew that.

It took four nights for him to break his only rule: never get involved after the job’s done.

But the hunch he had was too important to ignore.

Large fingers latch onto the knot at the base of your skull through the cage itself, Ghost grunting at the sight ahead of him. The rope had been gradually chafing over your flesh, peeling back hair and skin until only the bloody meat was left—Simon had to wonder if the people of this village even wanted you alive for the trial or not at this rate. You’d be dead by tomorrow if that infected bolt at your thigh wasn’t taken care of.

Despite himself, a part of his chest tightens at the sight of the thing sticking out of your leg, dripping a yellowish puss. It had been a good shot, and he had overcoated the bolt in wolfsbane.

Ghost hadn’t expected you to be so susceptible to it—most werewolves only got slower, but you…you seemed to have a stronger reaction. He files that fact away and tilts his masked face to the side.

Grasping at his blade, the sound of a knife being slipped out of a sheath makes you startle, jerking your head back and shoving away even as your muffed whine of pain falls out. Ghost momentarily readies himself for an attack, but the way you force your mangled body to the opposite corner has him grumbling out a hard, “Easy.”

The Hunter raises the blade, watching you with unblinking eyes. Your body shakes; panting. It was like calming a feral dog.

“You want the thing off or not? Have to cut it.” Once more, the man rises and walks over, boots almost silent over the small raised platform the cage had been set on like a trophy, you inside are comparable to the golden coins that greedy eyes touch and run their dirty hands over.

Your mind is a troubled thing as you watch this Hunter and his crude knife come closer, kneeling again, and motioning with two fingers to shift your head.

“Out ‘ere,” Ghost says, brown eyes not letting you guess anything about his true motives. “Don’t have time to fuck around. Guards’ll make a round soon and I’d rather not get caught wide-eyed.”

Your brows pull in, hands clenching and unclenching in your lap as goosebumps travel the length of every limb. You were tired—hungry and thirsty; there were open wounds that burned with infection and ones that were crusted over with dirt and grime. You can’t feel your toes, and the tips of your fingers have long since gone numb.

The thought of getting this muzzle off was like the promise of heaven being dangled in front of your nose. Your hesitation this time is far longer than the first, moonlight glinting off the visible blade in Ghost’s hand as he stares. That mask holds death.

The hood is gone from him—only that pale bone left and sewn into dark, dark, fabric. The sharpness of the teeth leaves your throat bobbing in a nervous swallow as your head carefully shifts to rest on the bars. Bending, you present the knot once more and try not to focus on the way Ghost’s attention is fully on your expanding lungs; the pulse that is seen through the meat of your neck.

But he says nothing before his fingers once more grasp the rope and the tip of the knife slips up. You don’t even feel it before the sudden slackening of the muzzle, and then the thing slips from your face before it slaps the bottom of the cage with a dull thump.

The first thing you do is vomit.

Spine pulling in, your body jerks as the bile that had been in the back of your throat rockets out, restrained hands slapping the ground as the acidic concoction leaks from between your torn lips. Face on fire, you choke and retch for what seems like minutes before you can finally breathe in the damp air—the innate shame and disgust rolling through as you cough raggedly.

It’s only after you’d forgotten the man kneeling outside that he seems to remind you of his presence with a grumble.

“Breathe. It’s no use if you can’t speak to me.”

A weak, quivering glare comes across your eyes, saliva dripping off your chin as your tongue moves to lick at your lips. But the brown gaze is as immovable as stone. Finding it pointless, your hands come up and delicately touch the base of your skull, only making you flinch when the fresh blood pools down and over your neck, licking at your shoulders. Tiny droplets fall to hit the metal one at a time.

Ghost’s fingers twitch as he puts the knife away.

“Who bit you?” You stare at him, hands falling before your wrists rub at the aggravated skin of your jaw. He shifts his head, voice slow but heavy. “Speak.”

“...I’m not a dog,” your voice is scratchy, hoarse. You send a small glance his way, mouth open and nostrils flaring in an attempt to bring in the oxygen you’d been lacking.

“Really?” A hidden eyebrow is slowly raised. “Hell, coulda fooled me.”

“Damn you,” you whisper, not meeting his gaze as you shuffle back. The crossbow bolt catches on one of the cage’s bars and you bite on your lip to stop the shrill yell that threatens to exit. Head moving, you lightly slam your skull into the wall in pain.

Breath hitched, you clench your trembling jaw tight.

“Speak or don’t,” Ghost grunts, and he makes a move to stand. “Your funeral.”

A spark of fear stabs you as he begins to shift, and you can’t explain why. Perhaps it was because it was the first conversation you can remember having lately that wasn’t one-sided or on the edge of a blade.

“W-wait,” you stutter, blinking through the blood. The Hunter doesn’t slow, and then he’s on his feet and fixing the gloves over his fingers, flexing his hands before his foot begins to pivot—

“Please, don’t go,” your voice is thin and pleading, echoing through the street. “I’ll answer your questions, any of them you want,” the sentence cracks through a dry throat, tears welling. “Please, don’t leave me here alone.”

Ghost had half of his body turned away before it went rigid; the side of his dead eyes flash to you, swirling with specs of moonlit silver. A hunter and a werewolf lock gazes, great beasts respectively brought together in seconds that seep into slow minutes of delicate need.

Knowledge and company. Understanding and a horrible fellowship.

The Hunter’s eyes twitch in their ever-narrow resting place, glancing away before he mutely moves back to where he was before.

He wastes no time.

“Who bloody bit you?”

You stifle a pathetic sigh of great relief, taking company with a man who had shot you not days before. Yet the ability to speak and be heard was a commodity that was dimming each and every day.

“It was already fully turned,” you speak quickly, tongue tripping. “A big wolf—a gray one with eyes like the sky.”

Ghost glares to the side. Gray? There were no contracts for gray werewolves with blue eyes in the area. Only you—only Specter. The next question is just as stiff.

“When?”

“Three years ago,” your lips move. “Only three years, I promise.” Brown eyes narrow slowly, fingers tapping the fabric of his pants once before he makes a noise in the back of his throat. Ghost’s jaw clenches, mind working through the hoops that need to be jumped.

To you, the questions might seem pointless, but to a hunter, they were important—very important. Werewolves who are born afflicted with this moon-drunkenness are different from those turned by a bite. Not only are shifts from turned werewolves more violent, more deadly, but they rarely know their own actions from that of the frenzy under their skin; those that are born as such are rarely out of control, unlike your faction.

The only question now was if Ghost could condemn you to death when it was obvious your human form was entirely different and you had no semblance of an idea of what was going on. Was it even his problem to care about? Even looking at you now, the man blinked away from cuts and inflicted injuries—the muzzle on the ground.

The blood and the bolt.

He’d known it had been a foolish play to bring all of those townsfolk with him on this hunt but he needed their knowledge of the terrain; he hadn’t passed through St. Francis’ before. At the time, Ghost hadn’t been averse to assistance as long as he got the job done in his own fashion: capture or kill, the contract had stated. Rarely was he known for capture.

Maybe, deep down, he’d known something was already wrong about this.

“Show me it,” the Hunter grunts, staring you down, a deep anticipation growing in his bones. He had to make sure you weren’t lying.

You lick your lips, face pulling with every twitch and sway of your form. The black at the edges of your vision was coming back, and you blinked quickly, chains dragging before you shifted your back with a quivering breath. The punctures were difficult to see through all of the gore, but Ghost made do as he grabbed at the waterskin at his waist and the rag hanging from his belt.

Flooding the fabric in the lukewarm water, he hums out a firm, “Don’t move. Cleanin’ it,” before you feel the press of the rag to your back.

Gasping lightly, you almost jerk away before the sensation becomes a nearly welcomed one—the drag and slight scrape of rough material. Your averted eyes dip lower, staring at nothing as your heart momentarily slows to a normal pace. Ghost cleans the areas where the swell of scar tissue is the most obvious, and, one by one, the violent groves spread out like a slash of paint over canvas. Along the left side of your waist, the blood gives way to a dented ‘v’ shape of healed punctures. Deep, dragging; a point to where your side was almost ripped away before it broke off swiftly.

Ghost’s dark eyes fight the need to widen, and that hidden blankness stays.

A great gray wolf with blue eyes…

His mask tilts, head shifting as his gaze moves slowly. Gloved fingers twitch to touch them, moving in an almost examining way that befits a surgeon and not a decapitator. Your breath is held in the back of your throat, but you sag nearly entirely into the bars of the cage, growing more unsteady by the second.

The scent of infection is so strong it makes your head burn, and you’re overtaken by it as Ghost’s presence suddenly disappears.

You don’t know if it’s minutes or hours before you understand that you’re alone again, but when your limp neck finally turns to wonder where your silent captor is, you are greeted with nothing but moonlight. Blinking through the sludge behind your eyes, the sinking in your gut was stark and sudden—like a knife dragging itself from gullet to navel.

But all you offer is a light whine as more blood moves to cover the places where Ghost’s rag had just cleaned. You were scared of him, no doubt. A hunter through and through down to the vampiric skull on his face and the shroud of death at every inch of his form.

He’d shot you and drugged you with wolfsbane. Found your necklace.

So why had he talked to you?

Your head is too muddled for this, too delicate. Like the crimson under your nails, it dries and flakes off of your brain as the lack of distraction breeds stored agony. There wasn’t anything left to focus on besides the upcoming trial, your death, and the pain that doesn’t let you sleep except for now, on the brink of not rest but unconsciousness.

And at the sound of a key being slotted into the silver of your cage’s door, only then does your body slump with the weight of doom.

You don’t even feel the hand that grasps at your ankle.

—

The sway of the horse makes your teeth clatter with every clop of hooves.

Your conscience mostly comes and goes, only staying in thin seconds where you feel the press of clean bandages on your afflicted flesh and the tipping of warm broth into your mouth. Grass under your head.

Blankets being shuffled over your clothed body when you shiver.

When you’re finally able to speak, when the horse is moving along and hands keep your back stuck to a strong chest, it’s a low, garbled, “Ow.”

Ghost barely blinks down to your head as it slumps to the gait of his horse, glancing before his attention returns to the thin forest trail ahead of him. You’d made noises in your sleep often enough—this was no different except for the fact he felt your shoulders flex.

Slowing the horse with a pull on the reins, the dappled mare settles to a walk.

“You up, then?” Ghost hums, his hand around your waist tightening as you groan under your breath. “Good. Thought I was dragging a corpse—would have wasted my bandages.”

Your eyes shudder as they open into the light, having to focus on moving them before the sting of the sun makes them water. But you do, and then the confusion outweighs the numb stinging of tended wounds.

Head shifting, you look behind you slowly with wide eyes as the horse under both of you snorts.

Brown eyes watch you before a dark brow twitches upward. “What is it?”

You just blink, mouth slightly open.

“Where…am I?”

“Forest.” Ghost states matter-of-factly.

If you had the energy to glare, you would have. Seeing that nothing will get the man into a proper conversation—he was a brick wall even now—you look down at yourself and land on the scarred forearm that keeps you secure on the saddle. Ghost’s gloves were still on, but the sleeve of his dark shirt had ridden back to his upper forearm, and in the wake of pale skin, you find the black ink of all manner of warfare.

Werewolf skulls; vampire fangs and fire. The slash of inkish chains with skeletons.

Your lips thin, your senses slowly becoming your friend again as you stare at the snarling face of a needle-hewn wolf. Eyes tightening as the horse moves to the left, your body follows the reactive action before Ghost’s pressure tightens once more, visibly veins behind the pale flesh. You move on, seeing the thin tunic and pants over your body—feeling under that, the bind of wrappings with the scents of mashed yarrow leaves in the fabric.

They’d been re-applied recently, too.

“Stay still unless you want to re-open them,” Ghost utters, eyes scanning the trees for unseen threats. It was midday by now, the sun high above the trees watching the both of you on your trek to seemingly nowhere. “We’re far enough away, but I want more distance before I take the time to close them fully.”

“The trial,” your arm moves up, fingers grazing the side of your nose before it falls back down. Ghost can feel the air heat with unease. “The…the cage?”

“Trial was two days ago,” he draws, thighs shifting over the saddle. “Give or take.”

The confession isn’t as shocking now that you have woken up here, but the lack of remembrance on your part of that time startles you. It’s a blank slate—just like the aftermath of your shifts. You don’t like not knowing.

The next question comes out with a haggard cough, sweat dripping off your nose. “Why?”

“You’re going to tell me ‘bout the werewolf that made you,” the Hunter grunts. “And you can’t speak if you’re lit up like a pig on a spit. Took you the night we met in the square.”

Through it all, Ghost barely looks at you—always his attention keeps to the trees and the shadows that linger; seeming to listen. He knows more than anyone that they do.

The horse continues on, your pain surfaces again, and with a shuddering breath, you fall into a fitful sleep once more. The arm around your body tightens, and the warmth it lends is accented when Ghost’s shifting gaze glances at the top of your head. He wears an expression he can’t name yet.

When the throws of fever pull their curtains back for the last time, it shows you the slats of the attic above your head, wood polished and clean as the heat of fire moves over your body. Pulling a large inhalation of air into your lungs, you blink softly as if clearing away cobwebs with a broom—willing sense to return in the few seconds it had flown away.

The furs are warm.

In the village, you weren’t anyone of standing. A simple woman—unwed, and, thus, unimportant due to the era the world sees itself in. It wasn’t all bad…namely, it hid your affliction far longer than you could have hoped it did. You had a small piece of family land passed down to you on the edge of the village, and that was where you stayed. Nothing fancy; a hearth, a large, single-room property with a garden and a well. You were known to keep sheep, a fact that had caused perhaps a few hysterical chuckling fits when, every full moon, one or two went missing, but it gave you the ability to accumulate money and, more importantly, an alibi.

Who would suspect a werewolf to own sheep?

But this home already had a more detached feel to it—something removed. The air was sterile, somehow. Groaning, your face tightens before you rise to the palms of your hands, muscles quivering to keep the strength your stubbornness gives to them. Half-vertical, you turn and study the area.

Square, the four walls are stone with mortar and clay to keep the rounded blobs together. You’re on the ground floor, a staircase to the far right while the bed is stuck into the left corner; a nightstand sitting void of all except a single chamber-wick holding an unused candle. A sturdy table with one wooden chair, a stone fireplace set into the same wall the headboard is level with, and a large oak door.

There are runes written on it.

You can’t make sense of what they mean, but when you see them, your tiny-pupiled eyes slip to the rest, all placed at windows or near some point of entry—unassuming things until you realize why they were red in color.

Your shoulders tighten, and whatever bit of magic moves through your skin lets your nose pull to the scent of human blood.

You clear your throat and look away, licking your lips with a dry tongue. Moving your toes under the two bear furs that rest at your abdomen, you notice the lack of earth-shattering pain that accompanies it, and, shifting a hesitant hand, you grab the edge and push it back a bit farther.

Bandages with perfect ties meet you, void of any crimson staining.

Truth be told, you expected more of a Hunter’s home—skulls; trophies. The town always spoke of burnt bodies strung up on crosses that mark the property of those in this profession, a ward and a sign of grim hope. Vampires mostly, wasting away in the brutal sun. Others as well. Werewolf fur and witch bones shoved in blessed boxes.

This place is almost normal, you think, thighs shifting over the dip of the bed as your finger runs the white wrappings where the bolt should be. Your mind dares not go to how he got the thing out of you, and at the stretch of sutures, you take your curious grip off of it entirely.

Looking around once more, your brows furrowed tightly.

Where was the man? The hunter responsible for your current predicament? Ghost. With his vampire skull mask and his black attire—a hellhound with dark ink and intentions. More importantly…

Why were you still alive?

Your memories come back slowly as you stand, bare feet moving to the floor as the tunic over your upper half falls to your knees at the verticality of your spine. They creak a bit, the bones, at the ability to stand fully upwards and not be impaired by bars of silver. A strength seeps through you slowly.

In the deafening silence, you clear your throat tinily and lightly itch at the clean flesh at the back of your neck where the muzzle sat; rubbed raw now scabbed and healing with the spread of natural oil balms. Taking in a slow breath, you step forward with a heavy limp and watch the door, glancing at locked trunks and cupboards, eyes blinking. Your muscles ached, but the sting only served as a way to remind you that you were still here—living. Few in your position were granted second chances.

You’re about to study the runes at the door when you’re called to with the creak of the stairs in your left ear.

“Wouldn’t recommend it.” Your head snaps over, blinking quickly.

Ghost carries the leather holders of his twin pistols in one hand, the bodies of the weapons in them hanging as he comes to ground level one step at a time. Brown eyes glance over through the confines of his skeletal face-covering as he walks to the table, placing down the items.

“Keeps the spirits out—smudge ‘em and the house gets haunted,” he grunts. “Rather not bleed myself again to get the runes copied.”

You stare in mild shock, sound sparking from the back of your throat. “...Right.”

Side-eyeing the markings, you shiver and step back from the door, silent as Ghost seems to focus on his task at hand—looking over his weapons.

Large hands running the metal and wood, the pistols in his grip shift as the drying light of the day streams in through the curtains of the windows. He touches them intimately, knowing every grove and dip until he tilts one and rubs away a slash of dirt from the barrel with his bare thumb.

You quickly turn awkward, looking down at yourself and the bareness of your lower legs. It wasn’t lost to you that the man was the reason you were in this situation in the first place.

“You shot me,” you grumble—not unlike someone who had a knife to their throat.

“Affirmative,” Ghost says nonchalantly. You get a slow, blank glance and nothing more.

“Have you drugged me?” You ask, heart speeding up. There wasn’t anywhere to go—not without an escape plan and with Ghost in front of you.

“Wolfsbane?” The Hunter shifts his thighs, boots moving over the hardwood. “Negative. Not yet.”

“Yet?” An attitude seeps in, lips thinning.

Ghost sighs under his breath, slipping the pistols back into their holsters. “Forgetting about how we met, Love?”

“No,” you huff. “Not really.”

“Perfect.” Eyelids pull down slightly. “Don’t.” Ghost nods his head to the table's chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sit.”

“I told you I’m not a—” A sharp, numb look makes your snappy reply stall itself, and you stand there for more than a minute before you find the pointlessness of this.

You limp forward and sit in the chair.

Looping your arms around your waist, you glare to the side as your skin crawls at the unblinking eyes that stare. Ghost rolls his shoulders, tilting his head.

“What do you know about the werewolf that bit you beyond appearance?”

“Nothing,” you chuckle hopelessly, moving a finger in confusion. “I…I don’t know why you’re asking me about it—it’s not like I had a conversation with him.”

The Hunter blinks at your sudden confidence, unable to separate your form now from the one in the cage; blubbering ceaselessly in a grassy clearing. But lesser pains always bring out someone's true colors. As long as you told him what he needed to know.

Ghost explains with a sheen of dull annoyance. “Every turned werewolf holds a connection to the one that bit them. It’s pack mentality.” At your blank look, his brows pull in, the mask shifting. “You telling me you’ve never come back into contact?”

“...No?” Your lips dip. “For three years I’ve been by myself with this.”

Brown digs into your face, a small sheen of confusion slipping in to tighten them, around his biceps, Ghost’s fingers twitch.

You lick your lips, speaking up in the impending silence. “I don’t remember anything after I turn. Is that normal?”

“For you?” He mutters, still not taking his eyes off of you. “Yes.”

“I’m not going to pretend like I know what’s going to happen,” you shrug. “But at the very least I want to try and understand why I’m like this.” You open and close your mouth for a moment. “Before you kill me, anyways.”

“If I wanted you dead,” Ghost grunts through a half-amused tilt of his head. He doesn’t beat around the bush. “...You would be.”

“‘Capture or kill,’” you huff. You’d seen the flyers; heard from word of mouth. “Right.” You sigh. “They’ll track you down, you know. They’re not going to just let you take me.”

“They won’t make it through the forest. Bastards would get lost on the trail.” The Hunter moves until he can grasp the waterskin from the counter, dragging it over with his hand. He tosses it to the main table in your direction after he comes back over, and you hesitantly reach forward and pull the top off. Ghost changes the subject back to his studies of your condition closely. Dark eyes slip down your front as your lips part to take up the liquid. “Before your shift, tell me what you see.”

Your throat bobs as you drink the water, thirsty as it soothes your dry mouth. You hum, but the inquiry makes your hair rise. Your arm wipes at your mouth as you lower the waterskin, a small thankfulness in your heart. “It’s less of what I see and more of what I hear and smell—blood; metal. River water. I…” Your chest tightens. “I feel my bones breaking and I hear howling mixing with whispers.”

“Whispers?” Ghost leans, eyes alighting with dim interest. “What’re they saying?”

“I try to block it out,” you whisper, not exactly answering. “Makes it go faster.”

A long nothingness ensues.

The impending night grows deeper, and then Ghost finally speaks again after you begin to shift with unease. He nods firmly, tilting his head as if it’s already been decided.

“Next full moon, you’re going to listen to them.”

Your horrified face snaps up. It’s a moment of stuttering before you force out a heavy, “What? No!”

He’s already turned, moving back over to the stairs and placing one foot on the steps.

“Ghost!” You yell, face devoid of blood.

He side-eyes you. “Go back to bed. You’re dead on your feet.”

And then the same man who shot you in the thigh with little remorse disappears into the attic.

—

The Hunter was a strange beast.

The days the two of you spent together were mostly silent—left with tight stares and tense shoulders. Clipped sentences.

Ghost, for what it was worth, gave you space in this small house; as much as you could get. He kept himself up above while you stayed on ground level keeping yourself occupied. You’d gotten spare trousers and socks, a jacket, and the bed was practically yours with how your scent rolled off of it now. Yet, you had never been permitted to go outside.

You’d seen the land from the windows—careful of the runes, of course, and it wasn’t anything… ghastly. A vegetable garden, a single-stall stable with a dappled mare, and a beaten-down trail out the front.

No livestock.

No bodies.

It was only when you had become ever more curious about your lupine curse that you braved the stairs to the attic—one week into the impromptu stay. It’s funny due to the fact that Ghost had never said that you couldn’t go up there sooner.

You stand now in the flat room with a sloping roof and find the man making bullets. It’s a long table, parallel to the walls in the center of the room; dark and covered in all manner of books and tomes. Grimoires tied up and locked. Racks of weapons with markings and blessings tied to sheets of ribbon…it was something you’d never seen before.

Studying it now, the contents were a dark fascination.

Ghost fiddles with his silver shell, mixing in gunpowder into the hollowness. He doesn’t speak until you do, but he knows you’re there.

“Tell me more about werewolves,” you speak through the air, and he waits before answering. “The ones who are born with it.”

“Rare,” Ghost comments, and you’re stuck by how willing he is to tell you about this. He puts down his bullet and picks up another. “Harder to find, even harder to kill. Unlike you, they know what goes on when they’re running ‘round. Fuckin’ nightmare to pick up the pieces—bloodbath.” You thin your lips. “Not all of ‘em are murderous, but they’re unpredictable. Can’t help but make packs.”

“Instinct,” you murmur, coming a bit closer. Ghost pauses, looking at you before huffing in the form of a gruff ‘yes.’ Your wondering continues. “But why am I alone then?”

“That’s the question,” the hunter says slowly. “Need to figure out why.” Brown eyes slowly move to you. “‘Fore more people end up dead. Or turned.”

“Can I,” you stop at the table, standing opposite the man. “Can I turn people, too?”

“No,” is all you’re given. Ghost’s eyes glint. “And I’d rather you didn’t bite on me to try.”

Your face heats.

Your attention focuses for a while on how he works—prepares for something unseen. He’d said he’d kept you alive to help him find the one who bit you, but he’d also cleaned your infected injuries, bandaged you, and fed you. Kept you warm. Safe. It was far more than could be said about your village.

However, it was strange how Ghost’s stark muteness was something that you found in the darker hours, a small comfort. When the moon was coming in from the windows, and you hid from its rays as if being stalked down, he once found you sleeping under the bed on the floor because of it.

He never said anything, just offered you a silent hand and helped you back out with a slow blink and a tilt of his head.

There was a distrust, obviously, but there was also an unspoken nearness. No one would make any sense of it—you couldn’t either. It was like a wolf and a raven; something built on hesitence but necessity. You didn’t like Ghost’s mask or his brutalist profession of shooting his wolfsbane-coated bolts, and he didn’t like that once a month you turned into a rampaging werewolf.

Comparable things, really.

But even here, in this workshop in his attic, you saw the need for this—for hunters. If you couldn’t stop yourself, there came a time when you had to be stopped. Truth be told, you expected it to be a quick and final end. Maybe that was just a foolish hope.

A silver bullet would have always been your final song, you believed. Perhaps the very one that had once swung from around your neck; the one you’d never taken off until now.

But then, perhaps that would have been your own brutalist profession.

“Thank you,” you nod. Ghost pauses, fingers stained with gunpowder. He blinks at the bullet in his hand as you continue. “I know you don’t care about anything beyond your work, but if you hadn’t gotten me out of that cage they would have burned me alive. Skinned me.” Your tongue pokes out of the side of your mouth. “I don’t know, but it wouldn’t have been kind. Job or not…thank you for getting me out of there.”

“I shot you,” he utters, voice gravel. Ghost seemed confused.

Your lips flick. “I never said I forgave you for that part.”

A smooth chuckle wafts out over the attic and your own softly mirrors. Your head tilts somewhat quizzically. “But, about that…did you mean to put so much wolfsbane on it?”

Ghost shakes his head, grumbling. A small sense of honesty leaks out. “...Expected you to be bigger.”

You blink, and then, a few seconds later, a loud snort echoes like a ringing bell.

The Hunter's unimpressed look only leads you to find him all the more enjoyable. “Shut it. Fuckin’ hell.”

A hand is waved from your party, dismissing the harsh snap. “Sorry, sorry.” You puff out amused air. “Spector not up to your expectations?”

Ghost nearly rolls his eyes, trying to focus on the task at hand. He didn’t mind your company, at the very least he knew he needed to keep an eye on you for any potentially forced shifts or hostile attitude. What he hadn’t expected was to find you so…different from your muzzled counterpart, your shared physical inhabitant.

He could almost call you endearing if he wasn’t so numb to the sight and scent of reality.

“Sightings were far between,” Ghost grunts. “Here-say. I took an educated guess—better to put something like you out of commission than drag my way out of a forest without legs.”

“No apology?” You try, tilting your head.

“None,” is the drawn response. “I don’t have regrets. You’re alive.”

Your fingers touch the outside of one of his journals, tracing the bumps and grooves of age and wear. You hum, but don’t reply. Most of your pains have been pushed back now, even if you still weren’t up to full strength. Food and rest helped, but the anxiety that perpetuated only lengthened the healing process.

When you can’t trust even yourself under the drunkenness of the moon, it only makes your fear of the sun worse. Everything made you afraid—most of all your mind; most of all, the future.

“Why do you want to find the werewolf that turned me?” You have to speak this, have to push. Your curiosity demands it.

Ghost puts the bullet down and grabs a rag from his belt, mask turning to look your way as he brushes off his hands. He pauses, looming with that gargantuan height—natural intimidation in the span of his chest and the trunk that makes up his front. You find yourself in his shadow as he rubs at his fingers with the rag, taking it away and slotting it back into his belt a moment later.

The man’s heat leaks into your body as he blinks over, glancing your form up and down in a single look; keeping a respectful distance but still making his attentions known.

He stares. “If it keeps biting people, there won’t be any villages left to take up contracts from.”

“Money?” You frown.

“Principle,” Ghost counters, chest rising and falling steadily. “There needs to be a middle ground. Too many feral werewolves, too few people. Cut off the head.”

“Ominous,” your form turns to his, itching at the back of your head again—the scabbing skin. “If what you said was true, how do you know the thing isn’t already dead? If it hasn’t tried to get to me, what was the point of making me?”

“Because you hadn’t left St. Francis’ by the time I put a bolt in you.” Ghost grumbles, rubbing a hand on his bicep, itching above the fabric of his tunic. He stretches with a grunt—and you see his shirt ride up and the pale skin underneath. You gawk for a moment at the length of scars and brutal muscle.

“Charming,” you dryly utter, stuttering in a brief second of pulling back your senses, but the Hunter continues on, ignoring you.

“That was where you were turned—your territory. You stayed because your leader is still close by waiting.” Legs shift, and all of a sudden, a body is over you, hands are on the base of your skull, pushing your own away as brown eyes dig into the injury you pick at.

Your breath hitches, tensing for a second as your spine straightens. You watch widely from the corner of your eye as Ghost runs a careful hand over the flesh. He puffs a breath, chest moving in a grunt that is both commonplace and expected, yet the brush of his chest to your shoulder is not.

You restrain a shiver, nostrils moving to the overwhelming swell of leather and gunpowder. Bone fragments; the tang of whiskey.

His skin as he runs a thumb over the edge of your wound.

“It’ll start cracking.” Ghost utters, and through his fabric, you feel the brush of speech. “Have to apply more balm. Stop messing with it unless you want stitches soon.”

It takes a moment more of his surgical study and a small clearing of your throat before you can speak. Your mind changes the subject for you.

“So…if my bite can’t turn anyone,” you breathe, nearly sagging as Ghost’s fingers catch in your hair, shifting it under his attention to get a better look. He listens, you know. He wasn’t good at talking, but he always listened. “Why did they muzzle me?”

For a brief instance, you think you feel the Hunter’s fingers jerk a tiny amount—some reactionary muscle twitch that leads your body to still.

Ghost can’t say why he did that, though perhaps it was the sudden flash of the injuries that he’d wrapped on the road back to his property that went over his eyelids. Or the cage—your pleading face aching for whatever small sliver of brutish company you can get.

The silver bullet that he still had in his pocket, attached to that leather cord. He knew the purpose; the intent. Just as he knew the scrape of scabbing under his fingertips.

“Control,” he grumbles, and it’s all he’ll say.

Your burning face is somewhat down-turned, letting him do as he must, study what he can. He hadn’t made any moves to endanger you, and besides the upcoming full moon, there was nothing here that screamed imminent danger. Danger as a general, yes, of course. You were a werewolf in a hunter’s home—it would always be…your eyes flutter when his fingertips drag over your scalp…it would always be danger….dangerous.

Ghost doesn’t think you notice it, but your eyes are drooping.

He watches after the slight shock wears off, a tiny smirk flickering the hidden skin of his lips after he realizes the reason. If you had a tail, he’d assume it would be moving in a soft arch by now.

The man was mildly amused at that, and before he moved away fully, he had to stop himself from uttering a sarcastic, ‘like that, then?’

He had to remind himself not to get attached to whatever…this was. He was using you as bait, as some key to his problem. Not a companion. The distance here had to be firm and heavy-handed.

“The balm is down in my packs,” he grunts, leaving just as his name implied before you had the chance to gather your bearings and the lack of caressing heat. You startle back to the attic room, eyes wide and face loose before Ghost’s retreating footsteps echo on the stairs. “Don’t bloody use it all, then.”

The front door opens and closes with a pull of weighted wood.

—

“I can’t do this,” you mutter, pacing alone in the middle of the night down in the living room

The full moon was tomorrow.

“I can’t do it,” you itch at the back of your head, peeling at the nearly healed flesh harshly. Your nails dig into the soft tissue, drilling like a knife. A bead of blood slips around your fingers, but it doesn't stop you.

It’s late—late enough to know that Ghost should be asleep by now. For days, the paranoia, just like always, builds until you are nearly as mute as your Hunter. No more curiously searching his attic; no more questions about his job or how he got into this business. Brown eyes had been lingering more as the days went by, this strange companionship growing. You knew, in his own way, he was…worried.

So silent, even he had been getting noticeably uneasy. Shifting legs and quick glances. Nights where you hid under the bed from the moon until lunch came around, Ghost speaking as easily as he could to try and coax you out to no avail. You, a feral dog with white-rimmed eyes.

At supper, only hours before this panicked pacing, you had told something to Ghost that made him double-take.

“If I can’t stop it…I need you to shoot me. In the head.”

He’d never answered, but his eyes seemed to get ever-sharper as the hours continued on. More tense. Ansty.

But…that was his job, wasn’t it?

“Can’t do it,” you murmur. Blood slips down your wrist. “It isn’t right—”

“Spector?” Ghost’s voice had become so familiar to you that the only thing that made your heart skyrocket was the sudden call of it. Your gasp is sharp from behind a panted breath, hand flinching away from the crater you were steadily digging in your skull. A long string of blood trails into the air as your fingers jerk away, and it’s only then that you notice the deep pangs of pain.

Your eyes shudder for a second as Ghost’s form makes it to ground level. He comes over slowly, attention staying on the way the moonlight makes the crimson stains glint from the dripping line seeping into the sleeve of your tunic. He blinks, and you both stand.

The man’s skeletal adornment was missing, though the fabric under remained. A loose sleep shirt and pants, stained by the rays of night.

“Let me see,” he sighs under his breath, a tiny rasp telling of the sleep he’d been awoken from.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” you utter. He doesn’t seem to care, grabbing your wrist and pulling the limb away as his body takes up presence behind you.

“Was already awake,” Ghost grunts, eyes narrowing in hidden worry. You calm down a bit at that, one less problem to worry yourself about.

The Hunter, quietly, leaves for a second and grabs his pouch near the door. With a muffled command, he nods to the bed until you’re backing up and hitting the back of your knees off of it, sitting.

Ghost lights the candle on the nightstand and opens his belongings with stiff glances your way. He noticeably doesn’t ask why you’ve harmed yourself like this.

“I can’t,” you say it like a plea for help. “Ghost, I can’t do it again.”

Hands fiddle with clean bandages and take out his waterskin. The man douses a rag with the liquid and comes over, shifting onto the bed and lightly turning you so your back is to him—legs half hanging off.

The hard press of cold water makes your breath hitch, and you bite your lip.

“It hurts,” you push out. Ghost knows you’re not talking about the newly opened wound.

“Breathe,” he says to you, seeing the way your sides expand with heavy lungs. Brown eyes flutter from the push of his large hand to the warmth of your shaking flesh. “Tell me about your home, yeah? Heard you lived in your own place.”

The question makes you double-take.

He’s asking me that? Here? Now? Hours away from perhaps another catastrophe?

Yet, you can’t help the slippage of your tongue as Ghost’s fingers rub into your scalp. The rag is lessened, and, soon, the material is rubbed gently over the sore itch of weeping skin. You fight a whimper and reply with an addled mind.

“It…it’s quiet. Calm. I always keep the candles going because I don’t like the dark.” Ghost works quietly and quickly.

“There,” he grunts, glancing at the flickering light of the candle he lit. He’d have to remember that. “And?”

“I kept sheep.”

He pauses, and, without meaning to, a soft scoff bounces off the confines of his chest. It catches your attention far better than a bullet could. Ghost shifts a needle and thread out of his gathering of items, taking away his limbs only for the short while it takes him to loop the two together.

“How many?” The masked man asks, amusement gone just as quickly as it had come.

“Only a handful,” you whisper. Your mouth opens and closes, glancing over your shoulder as the candle-light spills out over the room; casting shadows over Ghost’s face, catching on his long eyelashes. Those browns of his glint like tree trunks covered in dew.

“Please,” your words are muffled. Eyes wide and fearful, there isn’t anything that can console you on this. “You need to kill me.”

There was a dichotomy to you—a violent thing. You didn’t want to die, no, you feared it heavily, more than the moon, but the truth was that you couldn’t keep going through this. The unknowing. The breaking bones, the blinding pain. The understanding that nothing that you do can stop it.

“It hurts, Ghost,” your breath stutters. “More than taking off a limb, more than slicing yourself open and ripping out your intestines—it burns more than the light of the moon.”

The Hunter listens through all of it. He sits, he stares, and he hides the brimming sense of concern behind his dead eyes.

With a pulling of his eyebrows, Ghost’s free hand moves upwards and grabs your chin. Freezing, you study this phenomenon from over your shoulder, face on fire with eyes wide to the pale skin visible to your view. You hadn’t realized until now, but this was the most you’d seen of the man’s face.

You could make out the point of his crooked nose—the strength of his jaw under the form-fitting fabric. Cheekbones and the heaviness of his brows. Wisps of hair. He had eyes like a cat, you had to admit; something sly about them despite the numbness that seemed to extend bone-deep.

But his hands had been kind to you.

Firmly, Ghost’s fingers run your flesh, and he blinks softly before a low sound echoes in his throat. He pushes carefully on your jaw and shifts your head back forward so he can help you. When he lets go, your heart quivers in your breast

“I’m ‘ere,” he mutters, and you feel the first stitch enter the thin flesh of your head. You take down deep breaths, focusing on the scrape of his fingertips and not the point of the needle. Ghost can understand the fear of it—of pain. It’s instinct. He tilts his head and pushes out, “I can only ask for one full moon from you, yeah? No more. I just need one.”

“And if I can’t find the werewolf?” Your voice vibrates with emotion, staring down at your hands as Ghost’s chest brushes your spine. The scent of him was addling your brain; the rub and slide of his hands.

The Hunter’s jaw clenches softly. “...Then I let you go.”

It wasn’t what you were expecting, but anything from the time you’d gotten a bolt through the thigh was unknown territory, and, like a dog without a leash, you’d run into it. Your brows furrow, blood oozing down your neck before Ghost’s grip shifts to place the rag back again, swiping away firmly.

“Go?” He nods, but you can’t see it. “But what about the hunt?”

“I can manage.” The stitching pauses. The air is broken up nearly a full minute later. “You’re not evil.” Before they start up again as if nothing was uttered aloud.

The confession makes the sting in the back of your eyes start up again—a strong thing of confusion and vulnerability. Ghost continues his task, pulling together your skin one suture at a time until the injury is fully closed; clean.

“Chin,” he lowly states, and you allow him to tap your jaw, shifting it up so the wrappings can loop above your ear and over your forehead—securing them.

Even far after the blood has seeped through, the two of you stay.

—

Come morning, you already feel wrong.

Your body stays in bed, shaking—sweating. A large pain flairs in your chest over and over like a pulsing well in the earth, skin twitching with the spread of blood. Ghost sits beside the bed all the while, having dragged over his chair. He leans back into it, one arm over the side, hanging with the thing ever so often moving to rub at the back of his neck.

You don’t think he’s moved since he brought it over last night; since he got another candle to stick into the holder—push back the dark. To watch, to study, or just to stave off your rising anxiety is another question.

It’s only after the fourth time you try to rip at the stitches at the base of your skull that he finally grabs your hand and holds it silently. Now, his thumb moves over your knuckles—his gloves back on.

At noon, he tries to suggest eating.

“Hungry?” Ghost asks.

“No,” you say instantly, sweat dripping over your temple, your body partially buried under blankets. “No, I’ll just throw it up.”

Brown eyes glint. “Just one bite?”

Your mouth is already salivating—thoughts of wet flesh and blood in the forefront until you whine and shove your face into the pillow; panting heavily.

Whispers dance in the shell of your ears.

I’m here.

“Go away,” you whisper quickly to them.

Ghost pauses, hesitating. After a moment, his thighs tense with the action of movement, thinking you’re speaking to him. Something swirls in his chest, but he starts to stand nonetheless.

Your eyes widen.

“No!” Both of your hands latch onto the Hunter’s wrist, fear a needle stuck in your gaze. “No, not you. Stay, please.”

A silver cage covered in blood slides across Ghost’s slightly shocked look, but he only licks at the corner of his mouth and slowly leans back once more.

“Not going anywhere,” he says, accent dipping. “Tell me what you’re hearing, yeah?”

His hand slips back into yours, and he presses into your pulse softly, counting. The sun continues across the sky.

“I don’t like how it sounds,” you say, shaking your head. “It’s wrong.”

“Focus,” Ghost breathes, looming closer. His grip squeezes once. “It can’t hurt you.”

You shiver, eyes tightly closed as tears burn the back of your nose. “It’s howling.”

A suddenly gloveless hand spreads up your cheek, resting there and pushing back the sweat that pools. It’s calloused—scarred. You whine, head spinning.

I’m waiting.

Find me.

“I don’t want to,” you utter under your breath, words an amalgamation of slurring gasps.

“Spector,” Ghost calls, head moving closer. “Eh.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” your hurried panic is similar to a mind overdosing on wolfsbane. “Gotta go away—gotta get out—”

“Spec!” The Hunter’s quick bark makes your eyes pop open, and you lock instantly with brown orbs.

They’re tight, unblinking just as always. They offer just a few moments of clarity.

Ghost holds your head still while the rest of you shivers with cold sweats, you can hear the blood inside of his veins; his heart pumping. The scent of his skin was addicting to the point of memorization on the airwaves. You watch, gulping down breaths as your throat bobs.

Eyes dart you up and down, fingers spreading out to offer what little comfort he can. The man wonders if he’s completely in over his head.

Ghost pulls his face-covering up to his nose, and your heart skips beats at the sight of ravaged skin and stubble, scars spreading out like your own. Long ones, short ones, burn marks, and hyperpigmentation. He wasn’t pretty, but he was real.

Oh, he was real.

His grip on you strengthens until all you can focus on is him.

Ghost blinks, and you see his lips move. The gravel of his voice was never more clear. “Fucking hell, keep that head on, okay? Nothing’s going to happen as long as I’m here. I’ve got you.” He sighs out a low breath, thumb running your undereye as the small dribbles of tears begin to sneak out. Ghost murmurs. “I’ve bloody got you, alright? Let it happen—we can figure it out.”

He’d grown fond of you over the course of a month. You were curious; not pushingly so. Honest. Good. You’d been dealt a bitter hand, and damn him if his stone heart wasn’t stretched thin at the raw fear on your face. This wasn’t your fault, but he needed to find who turned you and stop them before it got any more out of control than it already was. If more unstable werewolves went running through the woods, there wouldn’t be anyone left in the territory alive.

“When you turn,” Ghost says as clearly as he’s able. “Go. Don’t fight it. I’ll find you.”

“Promise?” You ask, a weak flicker coming to your lips—eyes vulnerable.

Ghost nods once, and it’s all you need. “I’ll find you,” he repeats. “Doubt me?”

“No,” you ease, clearing your throat. “But…one more thing?”

“Anything,” the Hunter instantly says.

“Just don’t shoot me in the thigh again.”

When the claws start protruding from your nailbeds hours later, you’re bolting to the door with only one last glance at the Hunter and his half-pulled-up mask. Booted feet hitting the wood as he stands, he lets you go even as his thighs tense in a need to run after you. Patience was his beast to tame, but it seemed to have left him in the form of a woman disappearing into the tree line.

There is companionship in broken things.

Your body slips into the forest just as the creak of your bones begins to shift and bend. You fall into a heap, hearing the gargling of marrow under your skin like a call to sea. An urge grows to infect you; a feral need to run and hide. Biting back a shrill scream, a hoarse yell escapes instead—flesh rippling as your mouth opens, fangs breaking the supple mushiness of your gums as blood floods like a river.

Find me.

“Ghost,” you whisper, hands snapping to your head. “Ghost, please.”

Your bullet, you want your silver bullet.

A rabid scream rips from your throat, and back in the house, Ghost’s hands tighten into fists as he glares at the open door. He growls under his breath, eyes tightening in a certain type of anger that brews in his gut. The nights your shuffling woke his light slumber were more common than when you hadn’t, and every utterance was clearly heard to his ears. It had become a curse to him—how you’d met.

A regret was seeping in, a care, and now, as he forces himself to back up and head into the attic, Ghost clenches his jaw tightly. So unaffected by the horror of monsters, he was now at a loss of sense for this growth of feelings.

He wasn’t dull, he knew that some of the contracts he took marked him as a tool and not a person of stable mind. He’d done things he wasn’t proud of, and he would continue to do them for no other reason than they were the orders he was given.

But you had broken a piece of that off of him, somehow, someway, your face had seared itself into his retinas—speared him at the brutality that your community had treated you with. The muzzle. It was cruel, and while Ghost was precisely that, there was a limit.

He did his job, and that was that. Anything after wasn’t his problem.

You became his job, and the one who turned you was an add-on. Maybe if he justified it to himself, he could understand his actions better.

But he was already sprinting to grab his gear when the first howl shattered the night.

—

A white beast prowls the forest.

It stands on two legs, but it isn’t human—isn’t natural. It’s taller than a grown man is; snout pulled back in a soundless snarl that puts dogs to shame with rows of teeth so sharp, they look like pale knives. Its feet—large, splayed—soundlessly skate the ground until clawed fingers slam to the earth.

A nose inhales the scent above the dirt, tongue lulling as a shaggy tail lays limp behind a curved spine. In between the erect ears, under the thick skull of the werewolf, the rolling bumps of a brain spark. A pull.

Find me.

Your eyes are tiny black dots—and they blink once before you rise once more. A great growl moves inside of your chest, the large collection of hair around your neck standing on end.

I’m waiting.

But there’s something that keeps you here—standing in the grass as the moon shines atop your head, your fur nearly glowing even with the stain of bloody injuries. The remains of clothes are about a meter away; only strips of what was.

Your gaze looks over your shoulder, and your gargantuan frame lumbers backward until you can stoop to them—nose once more sniffing with your arms reaching.

Your fingers twitch, blackened claws digging through the ground as a near purr echoes in your throat. The scythe-like additions card across the strips.

Gunpowder.

Leather.

Whiskey.

Something you can’t quite name, but feel drawn to despite the tightening noose at your throat. There was something there you can’t focus on…something that you need.

Your drooling jaws snap, saliva coating the fangs until they drip off one at a time to stain the grass. Body shifting, your head lowers until your wolf-ish visage rubs against the fabric, licking at the sides of your gums as delicate grumbles slip out of your mouth.

A far-off howl leaves your frame freezing.

Eyes slipping back into the feral-inhumanity of a wild animal, your body jolts up, gaze to the forest trees and the rustling of bushes. The swell of rain on the clouds is in the back of your nose, and the previous attraction to the ripped clothes is lost as simply as it had come.

You were being summoned.

Ears twitching, the entirety of your body refuses to move to the sound; tensed and ready to spring on anything that moves if only to let off the spike of anger at the lack of control. The pull grows stronger, and it feels like something is trying to drag you away into the wilds.

This was the sensation you were always trying to fight—the one that led to the aggression; the hunt. You knew that if you followed that howl, whatever was left of your human sense would be gone entirely before you could stop it.

Yet, this time, there’s a nagging need to find the owner, and you can’t remember why.

Your large head tilts, feet spaced as the curve of your spine grows more aggressive—hunching forward as you snarl at nothing, claws shaking as your fur is more bristly than sleek.

Like pure white spikes.

In the back of your head, a thin sliver of a memory slips in. Fingers on the back of your head, caressing calluses and dark, dark, eyes. Clean bandages and gentle touches.

I’ll find you.

If the side of your vision picked up the shadow shifting from far off into the trees, your curled lip never turned that way. If your nose twitched to the heavy weight of a man’s sweat, it never shifted to point as a mutt would to the rustling bush.

Your body bolts after the resounding echo of a wolf’s howl, and it’s no later that Ghost slips after your clawed prints to follow.

—

Crossbow in hand, the hunter’s mask gleams in the darkness, his pale eyes twinkling. Bending down, he glazes at the long pushing tracks of your form—seeing the spray of dirt to the side and the broken branches. Ghost blinks, shoulders tense before he swiftly stands and continues on. The firearms at his thighs lightly rattle, and the bolts in his crossbow are already laced with wolfsbane; silver tips smelt a week ago.

He passes a river with only a single glance at the tossed rocks from the bed, sloshing through the water as the bottoms of his pants get weighed down. Ghost’s mind is on one thing only: make sure this plan won’t get you killed.

The bolts aren’t for you—the silver bullets aren’t for you.

He grunts under his breath, the dark woods casting phantoms over the ground. The Hunter’s legs shift through tall grass, and he carries himself with the ingrained confidence a man of his station requires. If he were anything less than a monster himself, he would have died ages ago. Ghost shoots and lets others come up with the questions, but he could never be called dumb.

Seeing what fast glimpse he had of your shifted form after the last time, he was struck by how erratic it acted. Snapping head, twitching ears, and roving eyes. If he didn’t know any better, Ghost would have called it rabid.

Yet, your actions with his borrowed shirt were…body-stilling, to say the least about it. It had made his gut swirl.

“Give me a trail,” Ghost utters to himself, brown eyes still picking up the dash you’d taken. His agile feet splash through a puddle, the beginnings of raindrops hitting his head.

The man grabs at his hood and pulls it up stiffly, frowning under his mask.

Rain would wash away the tracks.

“C’mon, Love,” he grinds out, body hunched. “Leavin’ me to do the dirty work, eh?”

It’s too quiet—even a collection of minutes later of hard hiking, the trees barely move. There aren’t any birds; no animals beyond the black bodies of crows in the far-up branches, waiting, watching with obsidian eyes that don’t blink.

Ghost isn’t off-put, but the length of his strides gets far tinier, carefully stepping over twigs and rocks like a soldier at war. Then again, he was at war. And if he was caught unawares, there wouldn’t be a bullet to pull out of his side, but, instead, a chunk missing.

His ears were almost ringing from how hard he was focusing.

Brown eyes shift from one area to another, and then, suddenly as if a deer, he freezes.

Ghost’s body winds up, fingers twitching from the stark trigger discipline of his crossbow downward instantaneously. No one but him can explain what just happened, but he knows when he has to listen instead of act. Stuck in a clearing not unlike the place he’s first met you, his feet rest shoulder width apart and his eyes stare blankly into the trees ahead.

Your tracks end here.

From behind him, just as the large raindrops slap the side of his bone-ed visage, the small crack of a twig makes his ears twitch.

A low snarl sets his hair on end.

Looking over his shoulder, Ghost is met with the same color that he’d become so accustomed to in a full month completely blacked out. Void. Lifeless to anything besides rage and bloodlust.

Your white fur was infected with dirt, blood, and leaves—a mosaic of ferality ingrained into your body; pale fangs snapping. The beast slips through the treeline, slapping a veined hand into the soggy earth.

Ghost only watches, eyes a mystery.

His finger shifts over the trigger, and for the first time in his life, he hesitates.

The man looks into your glinting orbs, the dripping saliva on your lulling tongue as your esophagus pants for breath. One hesitation, he always knew, would mean death. One mess-up.

You’d asked him to end it, he shouldn’t feel remorse, guilt, perhaps—he was still human, despite his appearance, but remorse was deeper. It left wounds that were harder to lick clean again.

…So why isn’t he sending a bolt into your forehead?

Ghost remembers the times he’d found you under the bed, your shaking, and the way you hadn’t allowed him to change your bandages the first few weeks you’d stayed with him; didn’t want him to touch you. The nightmares and the small smile you’d gain when he’d spew his dark, sarcastic words as if this was a joke. How you’d always thank him under your breath for the food he’d give you, hunted by his own hand.

A silver cage. Crimson blood. The sight of your pleading eyes when you’d told him to shoot you.

Maybe the two of you were far more alike than he’d dare to admit. And he currently won’t, not even on his deathbed. Not even now.

Ghost watches, and he waits.

He can’t do it.

Your body slinks closer, stalking with the sound of anger, nearly rib-shaking in its volume. Ghost’s jaw clenches, and his body shifts to face yours head-on. At the sight of the crossbow, your snarl turns into an air-biting rage, saliva flying through the rain.

“Spector,” he keeps his voice low, even. The sight he’d seen as you smelled his clothes had to mean something. Ghost tilts his head, moving out a hand from the side of his weapon in an appeasement gesture. “I’m not going to shoot you. We have a job to complete…get those fangs away.”

He wonders if ordering you around will even work. You had told him before—you’re not a mutt. Ghost agrees. No mutt was the size of a fucking boulder.

The werewolf’s claws drag—goring the mud as if a pig to tear apart.

“Spector,” the Hunter tries again. But something’s different about his tone; he drops it, letting it pull on a softer string. “I’m here to end this. We’re here to end this.” He blinks and lowers the crossbow completely. “Breathe. The night can’t last forever.” A breeze whips the trees. “I made you a promise.”

There’s a second, he thinks, where he can see something shift in your gaze, pupils slightly widening above the deluge that wets down your fur into a sopping mess that hangs off muscle.

“That’s a girl,” Ghost grunts, taking a small step closer. “Never told you,” he utters, eyes locked with yours. He sees your nose twitch minutely. “But if we get this right, Spec, there’ll be no more painful shifts, hear me?”

Your dog-ish mouth is closed, hanging off every word as Ghost comes even closer.

“I kill this bastard,” the hunter breathes, gloved hand still outstretched, nearing closer to the near-silver of your form. “The moon’ll have no claim on you. She’ll let you off the leash, Little Wolf. You get to decide when it happens.”

He thinks he has you now, back to some state of recognition in the addled brain that tries to see him as prey; as competition. Ghost’s fingers are close enough to almost touch you, but just before he can brush his gloves over your wet fur, your mouth opens in a display of untamed challenge. Your growl is enough to make the man unconsciously reach for his pistol, and in the time it takes him to realize the fault of it, you’ve already rampaged forward with an unhinged jaw.

Ghost’s eyes widen, taking a quick step back.

Your legs push off, and you shove the hunter out of the way just before the fangs of an immense beast can clamp down on him, your own finding the shoulder of gray, thick fur.

Fighting as wolves do, Ghost only needs a moment to recover and get to his feet, though the sight in front of him can rival any that he’d seen before. His crossbow clatters a few feet away, sending the bolt off into the trees with a metallic ‘twang’.

The two werewolves roll around the pouring clearing, snapping teeth and rending claws drawing blood that’s deep enough to swim in to the green grass. White and gray meld together—blue eyes like a knife to Ghost’s chest when he takes it in from between the sound of tearing fur.

“Bloody fucking…” the man trails, staggering as his palms slap to the pistols at his side. He blinks, shouting in more of a bark than even a dog could imitate. “Spector!”

The wolves pull and rip the other to shreds, flesh torn and limbs grasping for purchase. Bodies are slammed to the ground before getting tossed to the side, fangs flashing in the moonlight. Ghost watches crimson stain your fur a pinkish-red.

He can’t get a good shot.

The werewolf that turned you sinks its claws into your sides, dragging them downwards as you yowl, eyes tiny with aggression before your jaws connect with its snout, biting down with more force than a horse’s hooves. The monster screams—a garbed thing of fangs and saliva.

Just as easily as it called you here to it, as it stalked your Hunter, it bashes your body back into the earth and takes you by the scruff of your neck. Eyes wide in that lupine way, you lock on Ghost’s profile before your body is lifted, and tossed away violently.

Spine slamming into a tree, you hear the cracking and bending of your bones in your ears just after you hear the sharp shout from the man in the clearing, body dropping to a heap into the grass and mud. Angled head flopping back and forth, black infests the edges of your vision, coughing up blood that seeps from between your gums and slips down the back of your esophagus. Fur and flesh are stuck at the base of your throat.

Whining, your limbs drag and pull futility, eyes flooded over with crimson and fogged by rain. A great roar worries the air, sending long shivers over your spine as you try to rise to your limbs, a five-fingered hand slamming you back down.

Just before the fangs can clamp your throat, two great booms burst through the forest.

The wolf atop you reels back, great bellow escaping its throat when you can finally drag your head to look over. This beast was clawing at its chest, shaking its large head in an arch to try and dispel the shock of having two silver bullets entering its back—the gray head snapped around to Ghost, who held his twin pistols aloft with eyes burning with anger from behind his mask. An avatar of vengeance; a bringer of death.

The orbs inside of your sockets widened, nose twitching wildly as you bleat a quick warning bark.

Blue-Eyes rises, body far larger than yours would ever grow to be—on two feet more powerful looking than a bricklayer many years into his craft; tall enough to reach to the sides of black-shingled homes and pull itself up. Ghost takes one look and growls under his breath, knowing there would be no time to reload the weapons in his hands.

So he drops them and pulls slowly at the cruel blade in his belt until the gleam winks in the low light like a curved smile. Setting it in his hands, the small flicker of a sharp smirk on his lips is lost to you.

Yet, there isn’t a chance for some brawl between two beasts—there’s only the flash of pale fur and the final crunch of a body hitting the ground.

You bury your fangs into the wolf’s neck; the one responsible for all of your pain and torment spanning years of isolation. You feel the body seize as it drops, the last remnants of a dying brain trying to fight the inevitable nothingness that ensues, and, you only hold on the harder, the bloodlust seeping back in with every drop of life pooling into your locked jaw.

Your throat releases tiny growls of pleasure, biting a bit to make sure there wasn’t a sliver of a chance that something living was walking away from this scene.

Ghost pauses, and in the back of his head, he knows he should stop you. Brown eyes see the animalistic sheen of enjoyment at a fresh kill, the way you pull at the flesh until chucks peel away from a gurgling wolf. Even when the thing is long dead and the rain still slaps the earth, you barely let go until you get a hold of the meat and tear with a backward jerk of your snout.

“Love,” the Hunter sheathes his knife, taking a step forward. The blood was pooling under your body. How many of those were treatable? He had to know. “Let me see what’s—”

The eyes that lock on him are not yours.

Up to your ears, the entirety of your face was awash with the stain of life, dripping off the whiskers at your cheeks; your chin.

Before he can utter another word, he finds himself on his back with a snapping snout right in front of his face, two dead eyes staring deeply into his own. Ghost sucks down a quick breath, hand snapping to the large wrist shoving down on his chest.

He pants out, gravel accent far more deep than it was before.

“Easy, Spector. Easy. Eh—focus on me.” Your tongue licks at your fangs, body shaking. Ghost pushes out, “That’s it, then. It’s over, yeah? You did it; let's pack it up and head back home.” He grunts. “Recon even dogs get cold in weather like this—the bed’s waiting. Get a nice fire going.”

Ghost sees your face move closer, and his hand minutely shifts to the vial of wolfsbane on his belt. It wouldn’t kill you, but it could put you out of commission until your body shifted back into its proper form. He could carry you back—that wouldn’t be a problem at all.

But he was worried about your injuries. Even now the droplets of blood roll off of you faster than the water can.

Too much.

Brown eyes crease, darting a look down.

“Fuck,” he growls, seeing the carnage and the open meat. “Sweetheart, we need to get you checked out—you need to listen to me. Can you do that?”

He can see the conflict; the internal fight.

Your mouth moves with fast pants, claws stuttering over his gear futilely. You blink rapidly, shaking your large head in fast increments with small snarls.

“C’mon,” Ghost says slowly, fingers looping the vial. “Keep listening. Know my voice is utter shite, but only you can tell me it.”

Your head drops to his chest just as the wolfsbane is popped open, and, for whatever reason, Ghost pauses. He waits.

You take a long inhale of his gear—of the leather and the gunpowder, and just before the Hunter can dump the vial over your skin, the long blackish claw on your finger loops the bottom portion of the fabric under his bone attachment.

The man’s breath hitches as you let it rest along his nose bridge…holding it there as you drag your head upwards as if it were an impossible chore. Your mouth dribbles out gore to his cheeks, but the Hunter stares upwards into your eyes as they soften in a lupine way.

Inexplicably, you let out a bone-rattling sigh and slump into oblivion.

—

Come morning, you sleep under the spread of large fur blankets—clean bandages over your bare frame as the man has tended to you for hours. He mutters for you to slip your arms into a spare shirt after he finds your eyes open, not uncomfortable by your nakedness, though he wants you yourself to be at ease.

His brown eyes are creased, and you can’t remember what you’ve done.

You comply with small grunts and moans; more sore and cut up than you can recall ever feeling as a large tunic is slipped over your head by scarred hands.

Gunpowder.

“What did I—?”

“You finished the job,” he says, sparing you a glance as he shifts back with his eyes averting themselves from your visible legs. The sun seeps in through the windows. “It’s morning.”

You blink slowly, and the man eases you back down into the furs.

“I’m tired,” your voice yawns out—weak and brittle like the hope you’d had that this plan of his would work. Eyes half-closed, they blink at the hunter with a soft kind of care that you can’t remember showing before. Whatever pain medicine he’d given you, it was working. The underlying itch was still as strong as ever, though.

“Tired is good,” Ghost nods slowly, standing still until he crosses his arms and sets his feet. He’s in a fresh shirt and pants. There’s blood under his fingernails; traces smeared over his flesh. “Means you accomplished something.”

“Don’t think that’s entirely true,” you breathe. A pause. “...Why is your mask like that?”

It was half pulled up—showing off his lower jaw and the stubble. The scars that you already have memorized. Ghost shrugs, blinking those dead eyes of his.

“Ah,” he grumbles. “Forgot. Here.”

He reaches up and slips the thing off in one motion. Your loose brain takes a moment to realize the entire face you’re staring into, but the second it does, the image is engraved into your mind forever. You make a noise in the back of your throat.

“Better, Little Wolf?”

“W—” Your lips stutter, new sutures pulling tight. “Why would you…?”

“Hungry?” Ghost asks, quickly changing the subject. “Know you like that venison that I caught.”

“No,” you breathe. “No, I’m not…I’m tired, Ghost. My head hurts.”

A hand sweeps over your forehead, staying as you sag into it with a hum and a fluttering of your eyes.

“Bloodloss,” the Hunter murmurs. “Normal. Go back to sleep; take however long you need. I’ll be here.”

The bond between the two of you has strengthened to that of a silver rope.

“Stay,” you plead under your breath, already slipping back into nothingness with no promise to wake up again soon. “Hold me, Ghost?”

“Simon,” he grunts to only himself, knowing that the words are lost to you. Perhaps that makes him all the more eager to share it with you when you’re better. “Stay still.”

It wasn’t like you could protest.

The broad man slips in, shifting the furs until you’re covered back up and your forehead is to his chest—keeping himself closest to the door where the runes still sit in their bloody glory. If he listened hard enough, he could even hear them humming him a tune.

No song was better to him than the one of your breath at this very moment. Alive. Moving. There were many times in the night that he thought...hm.

“Better, then?” The dry tease slips out.

A kiss to the side of his mouth is what he gets in answer, and he doesn't say a peep more until he knows you’re back in the clutches of a dream—a good one, he knows, because he watches your expressions like a loyal guard dog would.

Ghost, Simon, rests his lips on the top of your head, and in a delicate murmur, eases, “You did good, Love.”

There was much to do, but for now, all he had to do was hold you a little bit tighter and let his stone heart beat a little bit faster.

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the-oblivious-writer · 3 months ago

Text

With Her I Die |1|

Past J.T to Eventual S.S x Female Reader

Chapter One: Cold Plunge

warnings: major character death, grieving, suicidal intentions, physiological trauma, toxic codependency, and horrible horrible coping mechanisms

masterlist | prologue | next chapter

You wake to the sensation of something gritty beneath your fingernails, a metallic taste lingering on your tongue. The world comes into focus slowly – the canopy of trees above, filtered morning light, the hushed quiet of the forest floor. Your hands are crusted with dried blood and soil, dirt packed deep under your fingernails.

For a moment, there's just confusion. Then the weight in your chest returns, that familiar crushing pressure that's been there since... since...

"You're so fucking perfect, aren't you, Jackie?"

"And you're so good at being difficult."

"At least I feel something. At least I'm not pretending."

"I'm so tired of your mood swings. You're either all over me or you're—"

"What? What am I?"

"—impossible. You're impossible."

"I fucking hate you sometimes."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do. I hate you. I hate how good you are at being perfect, and I hate how bad I am at keeping my emotions bubbled."

"That's not fair."

"None of this is fair!"

You can't remember how you got here, how your hands got this way. The last thing you recall is falling asleep in the cabin, Shauna's protective arm draped over you like a shield.

"There you are." Shauna's voice cuts through the haze. She's standing a few feet away, one hand resting on her slightly swollen belly, the other clutching a water canteen. "I've been looking everywhere."

You look down at your hands again, the rust-colored stains embedded in your skin's creases. "I don't remember..."

"You were sleepwalking again." Shauna kneels beside you, her movements careful, deliberate. She uncaps the canteen and takes your hands in hers, pouring water over them. The cold shock of it makes you gasp. "You were digging. By the grave."

Jackie's grave.

You watch as the water runs pink, then clear. Shauna's hands are gentle but firm, her fingertips tracing circles on your palms as she washes away the evidence of your nocturnal wandering.

"Did anyone see?" Your voice sounds foreign, distant.

"No. Just me." Shauna's eyes meet yours, dark and knowing. "I followed you. Like always."

The days bleed together. You move through them like a ghost, performing the motions of survival without truly participating. Hunting. Gathering. Eating just enough to keep Shauna from forcing more food into your mouth. Sleeping only when exhaustion overwhelms the fear of dreams.

"You need to talk to someone," Shauna says one evening as you sit by the fire, staring into the flames. "It doesn't have to be me, but—"

"There's nothing to say." Your voice is a blade, sharp and defensive.

"You're not the only one who lost her." Shauna's hand finds yours, squeezing gently.

But you are. You're the only one who knew what it was like to have Jackie's lips against yours in the dark, to feel her fingers tangled in your hair, to hear her whisper promises neither of you could keep. You're the only one who failed her so completely.

"I hate you for leaving me here alone."

The words echo in your mind, but you can't remember if you said them aloud that night or if they remained trapped inside, another thing left unsaid between you and Jackie.

You find yourself at her grave again, the small mound of earth and stones the only marker of where she lies. You've been coming here more frequently, speaking to her as if she can hear you. Sometimes you rail against her, screaming until your throat is raw. Other times, you whisper apologies like prayers.

Today, you simply sit, tracing patterns in the dirt with your finger.

"I keep thinking about what you said," you murmur. "About me being bad at keeping my emotions bubbled. You were right. I'm still bad at it."

Wind rustles through the trees, and for a moment, you imagine it's her response.

"Everything reminds me of you. The way the sun hits the water in the morning. That stupid fucking sweater Shauna keeps folded under her bed. The way the fire smells at night." Your voice cracks. "My heart bleeds every fucking day, Jackie. It won't stop bleeding."

You dig your fingers into the soil, letting it fill the spaces beneath your nails.

"I hate you for dying," you whisper. "I hate you for leaving me. I hate you for making me love you."

Shauna finds you there, hours later, curled on your side next to the grave. She doesn't say anything at first, just sits beside you, her pregnant belly a reminder of the life continuing despite everything.

"You can't keep doing this," she finally says, her voice soft but firm. "You can't keep punishing yourself."

"I'm not," you lie.

"You are." Shauna's hand finds yours, pulling it from the dirt. "You think I don't know what you're doing? You think I don't see you getting closer to that edge every day?"

You turn to look at her, surprised by the tears in her eyes.

"I'm terrified," she admits, her voice barely audible. "I'm terrified that one day I'll wake up and you'll be gone. That you'll have buried yourself right alongside her."

The truth of her words hits you like a physical blow. You've been fantasizing about it, haven't you? About lying down in the cold earth next to Jackie, about finally escaping the constant ache of her absence.

"I can't do this without you," Shauna continues, one hand on her belly. "I need you here. With me."

You sit up slowly, dirt falling from your clothes. "I don't know how to be here without her."

"Yes, you do." Shauna's grip on your hand tightens. "You just don't want to."

That night, you let Shauna wash your hands again, watch as she carefully cleans beneath your nails. The two of you have developed these rituals, these unspoken agreements. She keeps you tethered to the world of the living; you keep her connected to the memory of Jackie.

"Do you think she knew?" you ask as Shauna combs her fingers through your tangled hair.

"Knew what?"

"How much I loved her. Even when I said I hated her."

Shauna's hands pause briefly before resuming their gentle movements. "Yes," she says with certainty. "She knew. You're both so good at being troubled, but you were never good at hiding how you felt about each other."

You lean back against her, feeling the solid warmth of her body, the subtle movement of the life growing inside her.

"I dream about her," you confess. "But she's always just out of reach. Always walking away."

"She's not walking away," Shauna murmurs, her arms encircling you. "She's just somewhere else now. And we're still here."

We're still here.

The words settle into you like stones, heavy but somehow grounding. You close your eyes and for the first time in weeks, you don't immediately see Jackie's face, blue with cold, frozen in that final expression of hurt and betrayal. Instead, you see Shauna's dark eyes, filled with a determination that borders on desperation.

You're bound together now, you and Shauna, by shared grief and secrets and the memory of a girl you both loved in different ways. It's not healthy, this codependence that's forming between you – you clinging to her as your last connection to Jackie, she holding onto you as if you might disappear at any moment – but it's what you have.

"I'll try," you whisper, not specifying what exactly you're promising. To stop sleepwalking to Jackie's grave? To stop wishing you were buried alongside her? To start living again?

Shauna seems to understand anyway. She presses her lips to your temple, a ghost of a kiss.

"That's all I'm asking," she says, and you both pretend not to notice the way her voice breaks, the way her arms tighten around you like she's afraid you might slip away even now.

Outside, the wind whips through the trees, carrying with it the memory of Jackie's laughter, the echo of her voice saying your name. But inside, in this moment, there's just you and Shauna, heartbeats synchronized, breathing together in the dark.

It's not enough. It might never be enough. But for tonight, it's all you have.

#shauna shipman x you #shauna shipman x reader #shauna yellowjackets #shauna shipman #jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor x y/n #jackie taylor x reader #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x reader

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22ayla21 · 3 months ago

Note

request where mydei and the reader got both wet cause of the rain until they found a old hut and they only way to not catch cold it’s to warm each’s other bodies with each other.

Warmth Amidst the Downpour

During a heavy downpour, Mydei and his beloved find shelter in an abandoned hut, but left alone in their soaked clothes, they realize the only way to warm up is to hold each other close.

The rain was relentless.

Huge drops pounded the earth, turning it to mud, lashed at the leaves, creating an unbearable roar. There was almost no wind, but it wasn't needed—the water poured down like a wall, soaking the travelers' clothes through.

Mydei and his companion ran through the forest, desperately trying to find shelter. The cold seeped under their skin, their clothes clung to their bodies, and their hair stuck to their foreheads.

And then, among the trees, they spotted a small hut.

"Faster!" she called, overtaking him and throwing open the door. Inside, it was dry, but not particularly warm. However, it was still better than staying in the rain.

They looked around. The hut was clearly abandoned, but fortunately, the roof didn't leak. Some old blankets lay in a corner, but there was no fire, and their clothes were literally dripping with water.

"We… need to take off our wet clothes," she said, glancing down at her clothes, which were dripping water. Mydei nodded, already pulling off his heavy wet fabric. He did it so habitually that he didn't even think about the consequences.

But she… When she realized she would have to undress too, she blushed.

Of course, Mydei walked around almost naked most of the time—it was normal for kremnoan. But… that didn't negate the fact that things were different now.

Firstly, they were alone. Secondly, they were soaked and frozen. Thirdly… They hadn't even confessed their feelings to each other, although they were aware of them.

And now they had to warm up. Together.

She turned away, trying not to look at his torso, but even out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the wet red symbols shimmering on his skin.

"We'll freeze if we just sit here," he said calmly. She cursed herself for her embarrassment, but couldn't do anything about it.

Mydei sighed, clearly understanding the situation.

"Come here," he said, sitting down on the pile of blankets and opening his arms. She almost choked with realization. Her heart was beating too fast.

"I-it's not necessary…"

"You're shivering."

She wanted to object, but realized it was true. Slowly, very slowly, she approached him. Her fingers carefully touched his skin. He was warm. So warm…

Mydei flinched slightly when he felt her closeness. Not that he was calm himself. Her scent—light, slightly sweet—tickled his nostrils. He felt the tension in her shoulders, the irregularity of her breathing.

His ears and neck slowly flushed. But he still took the first step. Carefully, with unexpected tenderness, he embraced her, pulling her closer.

She froze. Mydei didn't rush her. Gradually, her body relaxed, and she carefully rested her forehead on his shoulder.

"It's warmer this way," he murmured. She didn't answer, but he felt her breathing become more even. Her heart, however, beat faster than the rain hitting the roof.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr #mydei x reader #hsr mydei #mydei #mydeimos

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phyrestartr · 1 year ago

Text

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.4 | END)

W/C 7.2k #NSFW, male!reader, top!reader, bottom!sukuna, ABO elements, heian sukuna, typical kitsune shapeshifting, jp mythology, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, unhealthy relationships, questionable relationships, power imbalance, ABO elements, gojo/megumi/yuuji/nobara cameos, yuuji/megu/nobara are early 20s, sukuna is controlling/possessive/obsessive, rough sex, not edited enough (oh well) Note: It's finally over (dies like Noctis)

tags: @kamote-kuneho @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah @memedealer-exe @f0th3rr @boretheral @cicithemess @paastaboi @someone0vx

“Google says kitsune are usually attuned to one of the thirteen elements,” Nobara prattled, scrolling through the random Japanese mythology website on her phone. “Itadori, what's his element, huh?”

Yuuji pursed his lips, face growing deadpan as he thought and quickly realized he had no clue.

“Uh…”

Nobara grimaced. “Useless.”

“Hey, I didn't know they were all, y'know, elemental-y, okay?! Jeeze!”

Megumi sighed and shook his head. “We're supposed to be keeping an eye on him, not arguing about garbage you found online.”

The two country bumpkins followed Megumi's gaze to where you snoozed under a tree. It felt a little strange seeing you donned in one of college's spare uniforms, but you seemed quite pleased by the modern take on fashion and aesthetic. Yuuji wondered if you'd take to modifying the plain, black clothes the way you'd done so in the past.

“Oi, kyuubi!” Nobara called as she wandered in your direction, much to the chagrin of Megumi. “I got a question for ya.”

You spared her a sleepy glance before sitting up and stretching with a wide, toothy yawn. It almost took the three aback, seeing how sharp and distinctly not-human your teeth were.

“You and everyone else, evidently.” You hummed and combed your tail with your fingers. “Speak.”

“Is it true that your kind are, like, elemental or something?”

Megumi sighed as he rolled up beside her. “She means to ask if kitsune are elementally-attuned, whether it be to fire, water, earth–that sort of thing.”

“I literally just said that!” Nobara hissed as she smacked Megumi's arm. The raven didn't react in the slightest.

“Yeah!” Yuuji piped up. His face grew red as soon as your lazy stare flicked to him. “I-I, uh–like, y'know, fire. Or…you talked about fire?”

“You are so tactless. It's starting to get sad.”

“Can it, Kugisaki!”

You smiled. “It's true, more or less. I was taught my sort usually falls into one of the thirteen elements: celestial, wind, spirit, darkness, fire, earth, river, ocean, forest, mountain, thunder, sound, and time.

“Then, there are the broadly ‘bad’ sort, nogitsune, and the ‘good’ sort, zenko. Most say only zenko reach total divinity, but that's not always the case.”

“Yikes, so the bad kitsune can be gods too?” Yuuji asked as he sat down with you and pulled at the grass idly. “Isn't that, y'know, bad?”

“Gods are all inherently bad, as far as I'm concerned,” you said.

“Gojo-sensei mentioned you were one,” Megumi offered as he and Nobara sat, too. “A god. The people revered you.”

You snorted and covered your mouth the way you might have if you had the long sleeves of a kimono to aid you.

“They didn't mind me. I don't think they particularly liked me, considering what company I kept.” You hummed and straightened out your sleeve.

“Yeah, but…you're not him, so what's the point in hating you?” Yuuji asked, and you couldn't help but feel more weight and worry behind the words.

“I don't care what they thought of me. I only cared about what the palace residents thought. They were my family, in a sense.”

“Even Sukuna?” Megumi asked.

“That's such a stupid question, oh my god. Boys are so stupid,” Nobara said with a deadpan.

You smiled, though, and kindly still answered.

“Especially Sukuna.”

“Hey, hey! Sorry for the wait!” Gojo called across the field as he made a show of sauntering on over before teleporting in the blink of an eye. “So? Are we all–oooh, are we gossiping?”

“What, no?!”

“No.”

Gojo pouted. “My students always leave me out. Thankfully, my sweet, pious, precious (Name) is nice to me!”

“You're late, Satoru,” you sighed as you stood, tying back your chopped hair into the tiniest of ponytails. “What is the reason?”

Gojo whined and trotted up to you, rubbing and petting your ears to bring you back to his side of the issue.

“It's not my fault! All the higher-ups are sooo annoying and yap sooo much!” He shuffled behind you and played with your three lush tails much like a toddler would. “Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy that's not gonna get mad at the Gojo Satoru?”

You sighed and flicked your ear, thwacking him in the forehead with it. “Let's not waste any more time, cretin.

“What're we even doing, Sensei?” Yuuji asked, rubbing the back of his head after raising his hand like he was in class. “You didn't really tell us anythin’.”

“Yeah, I thought we were just watching the fox until he had to go back in his cage,” Nobara said, arms crossed and expression sour. “Seems kinda stupid. He's not even a threat.” But Yuuji knew there was little truth to that statement.

“I'm guessing the meeting was about relocating (Name).” Megumi looked at Gojo. “So what's the plan?”

–

The five of you walked endlessly through the vast forest surrounding the college. Your gaze traveled up sky-scraping trees, admiring the ancient song of life only you could hear through the soil and air. Wind danced across the verdant canopy above, scattering beams of molten sunlight across the forest floor and dappling the shoulders of the sorcerers before you with golden kisses–a sight you so sorely missed from your tenure at the palace.

The land was not crying here. You'd heard the distant sound from the concrete jungle resting far below the rise of the college, and it shrouded you with jaded confusion and contempt for what had been done to the world in your stead; if you'd been smarter, wiser to the plans of one, could you have prevented this? Or were humans simply inevitable with their evolution? Perhaps it was up to the Earth to find the yang after the yin.

“Okay, this is it!” Gojo called, snapping you from your rampant thoughts.

You looked to where he gestured, and found a simple building. It was reminiscent of the college in its design–modern, but clearly inspired by traditional architecture–and it looked fairly new. A bell attached to a rope stood at the forefront, as did a well for mortals to throw their offerings before ringing the aforementioned chime. Beyond that, the shrine lacked character and decoration. It was a clean slate.

You blinked owlishly, and tilted your head. “This is…?”

“A shrine! For our new on-campus god! How fun is that, huh?” Gojo smiled, proud for a reason you couldn't decipher. “You get to make it home!”

The younger three all deadpanned, looking between each other, trying to parse if their teacher was delusional or just being a menace to society and doing this behind the council’s back. Honestly, it was up in the air.

“I–is that even–” Megumi tried, but gave up and rubbed his face instead.

“So…(Name)’s gonna be, like, our resident god, or something?” Yuuji wondered, feeling his heart pitter patter just a little faster.

“Haha! Sure, if you want to think of it that way.” Gojo smiled and looked toward the blank canvas of a shrine. “In exchange for divine favour, we grant sanctuary. Home. A place to call your own.”

You didn't say much, but your tails swished and flowed as you stared at the humble abode–your humble abode–and inhaled shakily.

“I suppose this will do,” you conceded, still too unwilling to give Gojo the satisfaction of knowing he'd touched your heart. “It's a bit stingy, however.”

“STINGY?”

“Indeed. Now, begone–I have work to do.”

–

Sukuna reached for you when he dreamed. He didn't need to sleep, he had no use for it as he was now, but he convinced himself into the realm of the unconscious regardless, searching for the doorway leading to your mind.

And he tried night after night, day after day, searching and sitting outside the palace of your inner realm once he found the entrance. The door was the same as the one leading to your chambers in your shared home; a simple, sliding door of wood and paper. Beautiful. Comforting.

He knew the door wouldn't open for him, not yet; he deduced what may have happened, and what that would have meant for you all and himself as a result. He'd have to be patient. Wait for you to let him in to confront him, or seek his comfort.

But he didn't expect the door to open so suddenly behind him, sending him rolling onto his back and staring upside down at the most magnificent sight he'd ever beheld–a kyuubi, sitting poised across the room, dressed in a haori several sizes too big, waiting with his back turned as candlelight flickered and lulled the room into a lazy, sleepy haze.

Sukuna righted himself and stood, spirit flailing and tearing itself apart in his uncontrollable want for you, for a desire to return back to the simplicity of this time. But he couldn't go back. Maybe he could recreate it.

“Fox,” Sukuna murmured, excitement igniting the small, human body he'd been forced to mold his soul into. It felt so much worse in this form, his want being so much more fucking unbearable and burning a hole in his damn chest and skull.

You shifted, head turning the slightest toward him yet refusing to give way entirely. But, then you stood, and Sukuna suddenly understood how you felt in the presence of his overwhelming power.

You stood tall. Proud. Powerful. Your ears pointed towards the heavens while your tails fanned against the gates of hell when you turned to face that lover of the past, the one you held so dear for decades.

Sukuna almost felt weak in the knees (or was that somehow Yuuji interrupting his delusions?) when bright red markings caught the light, shimmering in divine sparks of orange and teal in the firelight–and your eyes. Your eyes. They burned with higher purpose. With unreadable certainty and alien understanding. You made Sukuna's gut coil with need.

“My Sukuna,” you whispered to the room. You took a step forward, and Sukuna eagerly met you the rest of the way. “You look so…small.”

He looked up at you–yes, up--and admired your face and godly stature and just how fucking tall and unearthly and powerful you were looming over him.

“Stuck looking like this fucking runt while I'm in his body,” Sukuna explained bitterly. He reached a hand up while he spoke, and you graciously leaned down to let his skin touch yours.

An ache curled under Sukuna's skin, flushing his complexion with heat and suffocating him in those unbearable sorcerer uniform garbs. His pants strained too tight, his jacket and hoodie made his core swelter and his mind grow fuzzy. It was torture.

“He looks so much like you,” you drawled, holding Sukuna's face in kind. You hummed with sympathy when he moaned and leaned into your touch, only abandoning his own rediscovery of your features to hold your palms against him, to indulge in everything so wholly you.

“Forgot what I look like, huh,” Sukuna huffed. “This brat looks like a beaten monkey.”

“So did you.”

“Hey.”

“But I adored you anyway, did I not?”

Sukuna scanned over your face slowly, methodically, wondering.

“Adore. You mean ‘adore’.”

“Perhaps.” You smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone. “It's been some time.”

“You chose me. You belong to me.” Sukuna's lip curled as he growled and forced your hands into his skin firmer as though to leave scars. “Mine. Only mine.”

Your lips quirked upwards and Sukuna pulled you down to kiss you. His voice reverberated between your linked bodies as your tongue licked into his mouth far enough to nearly make him choke. You kindly pulled him flush against you, wrenching more pleased, needy noises out of him with no effort at all.

“You're as starved as Yuuji,” you whispered as his hands fumbled with your ornate clothes, yanking and pulling at them with reckless abandon.

“Shut up.” His grumbling lessened just a bit when you eased your robes open, exposing your perfect skin to him once again.

“I believe it'd displease you if I stopped talking, no?” You tore the clothing off the other's body as he pulled you down to the floor with him, suddenly so eager to submit.

Sukuna scoffed. “I–just touch me, fox.”

It was your turn to purr and keen, basking in the soft tremble of anticipation the all-powerful choked on as he spread himself bare beneath you, your garbs cascading all around him like a waterfall–only you would get to see him, chest heaving, eyes swirling with lust and need, hidden behind a curtain of embroidered flames.

“Poor thing.” You dug your nails into his hips and dragged him toward you, prodding your aching length against his unprepared heat. “You've been so long without touch. Without love. Do you still think it's meaningless?”

The curse snarled, and you caught him by the throat, pinning him in place and jamming your other hand's fingers down his throat before he could bark back at you. And just that simple torture had the king's hips twitching and bucking, slowly falling into time with the rhythm of your digits slipping in and out of his bratty mouth.

“F-fuck you,” he gasped once his mouth fell empty.

You chuckled smoothly. “It's simply food for thought.” You pressed two fingers into him and worked inside with ease despite the crushing heat clamping down around you. You didn't know if his sweet, little body wanted you to stay put or fill him faster.

“Fuckin'--annoying, shithead, bratty fox–” he cut off with a ragged moan as you pressed against his prostate and rubbed against it slowly, firmly, deliciously. His eyes fell shut and his brows twitched up, a vivid look of desperation and concentration making him look far too vulnerable and breedable for his own good.

“It's strange,” you hummed, working him a little faster and jamming your fingers against his sweet spot over and over. “I never thought you'd willingly submit.”

“I need it,” Sukuna growled, fisting his hand around his weeping length and stroking to the beat of your fingers. His hips bucked forward and back, unsure of what searing pleasure to lean into more; luckily for him, you were keen to up the ante.

Your fingers slipped out and Sukuna snarled, crimson eyes snapping open to brand you with frustration. You felt the whip of desperate commands about to crack off Sukuna's tongue, so you wasted no time filling him back up, stuffing him beyond his limits.

The man almost gasped, though it could have just been the force of your cock punching the air out of his lungs. You pulled him against you, seating him to the base with a little effort and brute force. You knew he liked the pain. Pleasure was closely acquainted with it, after all.

“This is what you wanted,” you murmured as you rocked into him.

The curse didn't know if you beckoned an answer from him, or simply stated the facts. So, he didn't answer you. He instead gripped onto your shoulders to keep himself steady while you effortlessly drilled into his core with each and every thoughtful roll of your hips.

And it felt good. An uncomfortable, searing stretch accompanied the deep plunges filling him beat after beat. His body tightened and clamped down around you, forcing your length to rub against the weakest, most sensitive spots inside of him–places no one would ever dream of hitting inside the unruly king. None besides you, of course. You were different. Better than the rest. Fit to fuck and fill him if Sukuna so desired it.

“(Name),” he groaned when you changed up the angle, aiming to rub up against the ceiling of his insides with every thrust. You tortured his weak spot, and made a casual show of forcing his stomach to bulge and distend whenever you bottomed out entirely, and Sukuna reveled in it. He wanted to be yours. Just yours.

“You're so sweet when you submit,” you cooed, leaning down and nuzzling against his neck as you fucked into him harder and faster. “You should have done so sooner.”

Sukuna should have clapped Back, but he couldn't; he was too busy trying to angle himself to somehow get you deeper. He was too busy trying to pull you closer, to graft his thick thighs to your scar-riddled sides like a branch on a tree. He couldn't spare a single braincell on your arrogant Teasing when all he could think was, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me–

“Now he's lost his voice,” you sighed. “Such a pity.” Your hips hit particularly hard to punctuate, and Sukuna grunted.

“Again,” he choked out. “Fuck me like that.”

You branded a smile into his skin with a hum. “Are you sure? I won't stop if it's too much.”

Sukuna opened his bleary eyes and spied your nine tails fanned out, cloaking the ceiling from sight. It felt like staring death in the face. Maybe he'd been in its clutches this entire time. Maybe he wanted–needed–you to be the end of him.

Your hand found his throat again, and Sukuna nodded as best he could, too overwhelmed and overstimulated to get words out of his open mouth–but grunts and groans had no issue bursting through as you left mercy by the wayside and destroyed him as thoroughly as he requested. You were, after all, a selfless god.

Sukuna's eyes rolled back as his head tilted in kind, mouth left agape as you burned him alive; every push of your body into his lit new fires, and every second you stayed connected, more of his soul exhausted itself before rising from ashes once again. The tightness coiling in his stomach grew unbearable and insatiable, hungering for more and more and more until–

“There's no shame in coming undone,” you cooed, your lips and fangs replacing the hand in his throat and peppering apologetic kisses. “Unravel for me, my love.”

My love. My love. My love.

“Fuck,” Sukuna gasped. He clung to you, and you raised your head to kiss him, swallowing his strained noises to keep them a secret from the outside world and himself.

He grabbed at your shoulders and arms as his head tilted back and a hoarse cry left him–just as his body clamped down and sent him over the edge, he realized pushing in and out had become more taxing. Perhaps because of his cumming, or perhaps because of the ungodly thing swelling at your base and ripping him open.

You worked him through his high, never thinking of pulling away from him when he needed you most. Because this was bound to end. He was bound to wake up and feel cold where your hands now touched. He was stuck in the body of another with no hope of reaching you unless he somehow, some way turned the tables on all those weak sorcerers and broke free.

But he would. He'd claim his vessel and walk amongst the new world, autonomous and untouchable. It was only a matter of time.

–

Though Sukuna was selfish in chasing his own pleasure, he soon found immense satisfaction in yours.

The number of times he'd trap you against a wall and finger you until your legs gave out and your voice ran hoarse was too great to count. He couldn't help himself; that bewildered, wide-eyed look you gave him every time you were let go to fix your robes and catch your voice screamed, what was that for? And boosted Sukuna’s ego. He reveled in the glory of being the only one to do this to you, to being the one who forced you to lose composure.

In his chamber, he indulged further. He'd work thick fingers deep inside of you while his other hands roamed and touched, stroking, pinching and rubbing wherever he deemed needed attention. And you were putty in his hands, absolutely melting into everything he did to you, even if accompanied by a shock of pain.

Because you were a creature who only knew sex for the sake of bearing children. Beyond that clan using you in an attempt to create half-breed sorcerers, your primal nature influenced you to only seek out a mate for the purpose of bearing children, and not necessarily for pleasure.

But Sukuna was the opposite. He never thought of siring children. He only thought of pleasure of another's body and the thrill of total domination over them, never the idea he'd suffer the consequences of an heir; he had those women drink a special tea to prevent that for a reason, especially when a handful had come to him, offering their bodies in return for fame and perceived power.

With you, he could entertain the idea, however.

Yes, the mere idea of watching you walk around the gardens, properly swollen with his children, with physical proof of his ownership and coupling with you, sparked something akin to greed in his chest. Though it was a little warmer than just that, admittedly.

–

Yuuji liked you. There was no escaping it, no denying it–he liked being around you. He liked your smile. Your tails. Your ears. The way you scared the shit out of him the first time you properly met. You were just…weird. Interesting. Kind of like Yuuji himself.

But you were kind, too. The times he wandered out to meet you at your shrine to “check up on things,” or because he was bored, he always found you tending to your gardens, talking to the passerby wildlife, dozing at the entrance, and his heart would do something funny in his chest.

Then his mind would rot until all he could see was you sprawled beneath Sukuna, singing the king’s praises while he fucked you into the tatami and bred you.

It wouldn't stop there. Sukuna would taunt him, poisoning him with sinful thoughts and diabolic urges:

You think that fox'll give you the time of day? You, a petulant runt with not a shred of experience beyond your hand? Hah.

Consider it a blessing--you'd probably cum too fast to enjoy him properly. You'd embarrass yourself to death.

I know you think about him when your hand's around your cock. You wish he'd warm it, no? Wish you got to watch his ass take you in?

Go on, why don't you just try? Fulfill your fantasies! Maybe he'll act the part of a pious, pitying god and throw you a bone.

Yuuji, for as airheaded as he could be, knew Sukuna wanted to indulge in you through his vessel. Or, he truly believed Yuuji wouldn't be able to hook up with you and live to remember it. Maybe he was right.

But the young man thought you had a soft spot for him; he wasn't great at reading people by any means, but he thought you always gravitated to him before the others. You always held more warmth in your eyes when they fell upon him, and your preening touch constantly found him, your hands always smoothing out the creases of his uniform while deft fingers fixed his hair and pleated his hood into more attractive folds.

Maybe your touchy-ness toward him was a culmination of your need to parent something. Yuuji didn't fully understand it, but Gojo mentioned something about you wanting children, but you couldn't have them. Not anymore. And so those urges manifested in other ways.

But the young sorcerer wasn't so sure anymore.

“My Yuuji,” you cooed when he came to visit. “You're back again so soon. Is everything alright?”

Yuuji smiled and braced for impact, bowing his head the slightest bit to let you bonk yours against his in greeting. It really reminded him of the way cats would welcome each other. Thankfully, you didn't seem too eager to mark him with a dose of spittle, though.

“Yeah, everything's cool. Just–dunno. Wanted to come see what you were doing, I guess.” The sorcerer shrugged and pocketed his hands after you'd finished lovingly headbutting him.

“Mmh. Well, I certainly don't mind the company.” You smoothed back his hair and fixed the wild flare of one of his eyebrows before stepping away and meandering back towards your shrine. “It feels like something's going to happen soon.”

Yuuji's stomach flipped. “Yeah? You think so?” He followed you, watching the hypnotic swaying of your tails and hips and ass–wait, wait, wait, no, no, no–

What? Am I wrong? Sukuna's voice purred. Looks downright breedable, doesn't he? He said it more like a want than a taunt, this time, like if he were in Yuuji's shoes, he'd jump on you and pick up where you left off.

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Yuuji chanted, trying to calm down. Don't ruin this!

Ruin what? Your sad attempt at courtship, brat?

Yuuji said nothing. Sukuna howled with laughter.

“Natural disasters cannot always be predicted,” you murmured, bringing Yuuji back to the present. “And they can never be stopped.”

The younger frowned and rubbed the back of his neck as he followed you inside. “Eh, I mean…we can stop a lot with sorcery, can't we?”

“And if that disaster is born of sorcery? What then?” You snapped your fingers, and every candle in the room ignited with amber flame.

“Uh…I mean…” He sighed and rubbed his face. “I still think we can stop it. We'll figure out a way!”

You sure about that, brat?

You laughed, soft and kind, bringing a smile to Yuuji instead of a ticked off frown. You had a way of settling his nerves and relieving the tension from tightly wound muscles. Is this the effect you had on Sukuna? Is that why he cherished you so much?

“I admire your optimism, Yuuji. Perhaps I should aspire to be like you,” you said.

Yuuji's face flushed. “E-eh? Wh–no! You're awesome the way you are! And, uh, you're–y’know. You're good!” Smooth. Eloquent. Exceptional.

You hummed and wandered further into the back rooms, allowing Yuuji to follow you to your chambers to relax. “Well, I'll trust your opinion, then.”

“Okay. Yeah. Cool.” The sorcerer cleared his throat and messed with his hood as he followed your lead, admiring the tidy, comfy space you welcomed him into. Pillows and blankets were plentiful and all bunched together on a futon, so much like the nests Yuuji often saw in his dreams. It felt a bit…intrusive to see it in person.

“Hey, uh,” Yuuji started, “I–can I ask something?”

You seated yourself down across the small, simple kotatsu, and gestured for the younger to join you. “Of course.”

The sorcerer sat down across from you. “You and Sukuna. Were you guys–did you ever…y'know.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Go on.”

“Were you, like, in love? Or something?” Yuuji's face burned red at the words. Talking about love was so damn awkward for some reason, especially when it had to do with Sukuna and the fox Yuuji himself pined for.

“Ah.” You tilted your head the opposite direction, and hummed. “I was in love, yes.”

Yuuji's chest ached. “Even now?”

“Eternally.”

“Do you want him back?”

You didn't answer right away, and the festering pain spread from his chest to the tips of his fingers; of course you wanted him back. Of course you wanted your ancient, all-powerful lover back. Why would you ever accept Yuuji in his place? A weak, mortal being?

Before Yuuji could retract the question, you'd shuffled around to his side of the table and held one of his hands in both of yours. The younger couldn't bear to look at your face, and so kept his eyes trained on your elegant fingers smoothing over his rough, scarred knuckles.

“I would not trade a soul that walks amongst the living for a soul that has already lived its life,” you said. “Sukuna has lived. And he has died. He may rise once more, but I do not seek to aid it; he chose to die in hopes of living forever. He must accept what his decision brings, as must I.”

The storm inside of the sorcerer calmed the slightest bit. Sails no longer whipped and frayed; they caught wind and led his heart back to placid waters, though the depths of the oceans could always threaten future treachery. For now, however, Yuuji found safety.

“Man, you really are like Yoda,” He laughed, filling the room with renewed brightness.

You blinked owlishly. “Yoda? What that is, I do not know.”

Yuuji laughed harder and clasped his hands around yours. “Nah, don't worry about it. It's a good thing, though. From one of the movies Gojo-sensei made me watch.”

“I would strongly advise against taking lessons from that man, Yuuji.” Your brow creased as your hands clutched his in a death grip. “He’s not normal.”

Yuuji grinned, then, and held your hands just as tightly. “Yeah, he's weird. But he's smart, too! One of the strongest guys alive, y'know?”

“Even the strongest can make mistakes,” you said. “Even the strongest can lose, Yuuji. Always be careful, even if victory is assured.” Your careful touch graced the curve of his cheek. “I would hate for your visits to stop.”

The sorcerer's heart beat in double-time.

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

–

The leaves crinkled and rustled, flashing shades of amber and ruby in the dwindling daylight. Gone was the warmth of Summer's smile; now, the cold, fierce nip of Autumn cut through the air, whispering secrets about the first frost and what it would do to devastate the green around you.

But you were a god. A creature of fertility and good luck. And so, the grass did not die, and the forest did not wither under the coming winter's threats.

It seemed your gifts could not reach into the depths of your soul, however. Perhaps you weren't to indulge in the privilege of what you brought the world--the mortal things around you could make use of a blessing from the divine, but could the divine themselves? Could you bring yourself a remedy to your loneliness the way you brought life unto the ground beneath your feet?

You didn't know.

–

The end of October came, and the world trembled with the force of thousands of lives ending in misery and terror. You beheld it from your home, the sight of the clouds turning orange and red as hellfire devoured all.

Bless me ‘n wish me luck! Gojo had said last time he swung by. Definitely don't need it, but you're my favourite cheerleader, y'know?

That was not too long ago, perhaps a day prior. Maybe it'd only been twelve hours ago since you last saw him. Three hours ago since you last felt his celestial presence upon the earth.

“I would hate for your visits to stop,” you murmured, and your chest froze with the cold.

–

Winter brought with it snow and darkness. Kuraokami had his ways of slipping his icy presence through the slivered cracks of wood grain no matter the time or place; the great dragon would be heard and seen if it was his final act upon the earth.

Not even you could keep him out, the lesser deity you were. But you didn't mind the company; the cold breaths against your skin woke you from nightmares and empty blankness when you dozed and dazed, feeling the days slip by and blur together into one grey smear of solitary existence.

Something had happened. Ever since the sky lit ablaze in a familiar scene of ungodly strength, you felt a shift in the state of existence. In your relevance in the grand scheme of the college and history.

Your sorcerers lost their way to you, you realized. The cushions around the kotatsu stayed fluffed and untouched save for one. Five of the six clay tea cups gathered dust as they waited, hopeful, like you.

–

You woke to the feeling of hollowness. It jostled you to consciousness, in fact; those two little unborn lives swirled and stirred, clawing at your stomach before vanishing in an instant.

Maybe they'd grown too sick and weary of the loneliness and snow, too.

–

Sukuna had walked down this path too many times. And too many times he'd been unable to move, unable to claw his way out of the prison of his vessel to get back to you–but things were different now.

He held a bundle of blankets close as he wandered toward a speck of verdant green amidst the snowy whiteness blanketing the forest, and remembered a distant past he yearned to return to:

Sukuna was a restless creature. He often distracted himself with challenges, duels, leafing through stolen knowledge of other clans–but, on rare occasions, none of that would appeal to his tumultuous mind.

You always appealed to him, however. You, with your lavish tails, your exquisite appearance, your superior poise and prose, you always enthralled him, made him wonder and stare.

Maybe it was because you were always doing something. If you weren't tending to his women, you were meandering around the palace, admiring trophies earned in whatever form they came in: art, weapons, bones. If you weren't doing that, you might be in the garden instead, fine-tuning the patterns drawn in the zen garden yourself and feeding the massive koi. If not that, then you might be asking Uraume to teach you to cook, or you could be fiddling with your loom or–well, it could be anything.

Sometimes, you’d choose to lay with Sukuna and keep him warm and content throughout the dreary haze of winter.

You didn't hate winter yourself, no, but Sukuna most definitely did. The snow and ice were a pain in the ass, and they always threw the garden into a messy disarray of dead foliage and slushy mud that'd have to be tended to come springtime. And it was cold as hell outside. Who asked for that? No one.

“My love,” you cooed as you stepped to his side while he stared out the window. “Glaring won't make the seasons change.”

Sukuna scoffed. “That a challenge?”

“Not at all.” You reached up and smoothed his hair back, stopping pesky, rebellious strands from tickling his forehead. “I'd hate to see what you'd do in an attempt to play god.”

“I'm already a god,” he countered as he snatched your hand from his hair and looked down at you.

“Not a god of the seasons, I'm afraid.” You held his hand and pulled it down to kiss his knuckles. “But a god amidst men, nonetheless.”

Your beast hummed deep in his chest. You had a funny way of setting his roiling soul at ease with your effortless praise and acknowledgement.

“Knew there was a reason I kept you around,” the man purred, leaning down to touch his forehead to yours.

You leaned up into the soft gesture like a cat too eager to be pet. “You'd be quite bored without me.”

“No kidding. I'd go fucking mental if I didn't have you to entertain me.” His voice was a murmur, then, and softened even more when your warm hands cupped his cheeks like he was a priceless, fragile artifact: precious, special, breakable.

“Yes, yes, I go insane in your stead, loved one.” You touched your nose to his, then, before placing the softest of kisses upon his lips.

A light, sighed grumble slipped past Sukuna's lips when your skin left his. It was his turn to nudge his nose against yours, earning himself a petal-like smile from his prized possession, before he blessed you in return, trying to match the kindness you'd met him with.

You held the front of his garbs as you leaned up into him, and his hands all found their places on your smaller frame in return, pulling you closer, keeping you against him. He hardly wanted anything like this in the past before you came along and tore his mind and soul to pieces before hunkering down in the hollow of his ribs and setting up shop. It was aggravating. Captivating.

“Come,” you softly beckoned, slipping away from his desperate hold and leading him back to the bundle of blankets and linens he’d learned to accept as a bed.

As always, he had no choice but to follow, abandoning his mad-dogging of the outside world to join you and the infinite warmth his personal Amaterasu brought him.

“You’re lazy as hell in the winter,” Sukuna noted as he sat himself down in the middle of your nest and let you get to work adjusting blankets and such around the both of you for optimal comfort.

“You're free to traipse off into the snow if you so wish.” You settled yourself by Sukuna's side and tucked under his heavy arms. “I will remain here. Warm. Dry. At peace.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and pulled you close to his side, squeezing a chirped purr from your chest. “Think I'll pass on the snow.”

You smiled to yourself, feeling warm and content with the settling silence engulfing you as the snow engulfed the world. Winter was the only season where he'd stay by your side, so you often indulged in it, bothering him and sticking to him like a needy pet until spring inevitably rolled around to ruin your happy spell. Because Sukuna was more wild and feral than you. He had to go wander, to go fight. Otherwise, he'd have no purpose.

Unbeknownst to you, he may have another purpose in mind.

His hand breached your clothes and reached down, stopping just above your navel to your surprise. There, he drew gentle, thoughtful circles against your skin. You felt pulses of cursed energy flicker and feel, searching for something neither of you yet knew of.

“What is it you're looking for?” You murmured, knowing full well what he sought.

Sukuna inhaled deeply and exhaled just as heavy. “How long does it take to get one god knocked up, huh?” He tutted and looked down at you, holding an annoyed look while you met him with doey, lovey eyes as you leaned into him more.

“I'm sure you'll be the man who finds out.”

Sukuna grinned to himself and adjusted the lump of blankets he held. Arrogant pride blossomed in his chest alongside his bolstered ego; if he could do this as a mere man, what could he do as a curse?

The king sighed as he breached the warmth of the halo surrounding your humble, comfy abode. He was getting sick of the shit weather in the games, all the cold and emptiness. Being near you was what he needed.

“Oi, don't make a fuss,” Sukuna grumbled lowly to the whining duo he adjusted in his arms. “You wanna get inside or not?”

But before he could make use of his newly freed arm, the doors slid open before him.

And you stood there. Tired. Disheveled. Eyes big and hopeful, yet rimmed with disbelief and shock as you stared at your man and the package he brought to your doorstep.

Sukuna would be lying if he said he didn't melt, too. Being here, standing firm and whole and so very real and untethered in the spot other sorcerers stood in their attempt to spirit you away from him–it was the reason for his existence.

And so was your arms wrapping around him and holding him close.

“Ho? So you did miss me, huh?” He hummed, looping an arm around you and pressing you closer to him. “Sure didn't act like it earlier.”

“I didn't wish to believe in something that felt untrue,” you murmured into his shoulder. “Even now, you're not…entirely yourself.”

Sorrow stained the undertones of your voice. Whether it was for the fate of Fushiguro Megumi, or for the state of your lover, Sukuna did not know.

But he was here. He was tangible. He was in control. Finally.

“At least I'm here, yeah?” He said. And you nodded.

You led him inside and into the room filled with comfort and warmth. Works of embroidery lined the once-unremarkable tapestries draping down from the ceilings and walls, and the wooden pillars now boasted intricate carvings in various states of completion. Seemed like you'd gotten quite bored in your wait.

Sukuna sat with you, being the man to finally make use of the fluffed cushions around the kotatsu as he dragged it to your side to stay close. You needed it. He thirsted for it.

The bundle whined and cooed as soon as Sukuna’s ass hit the cushion, and he sighed. “Think you can take care of this, fox?” He teased, but felt a rush of something overtake him when he caught you with your ears perked, tails swishing, back straight as you stared down at the bundle.

He eased them into your arms and, with shaking hands, you pulled back the wooly linen to find two perfect little treasures staring up at you with big, red-lined eyes. One held the colour of yours, while the other took responsibility for sporting Sukuna's hues, but both boys’ eyes glimmered with divine flecks of gold and amber. Their hair blushed with the colour of sakura petals, and two, itty bitty tufts of soft onyx ears dotted both of their heads like chocolate chips in strawberry ice cream.

Two perfect kits. Your perfect kits.

“You seriously wanted these things?” Sukuna asked, teasing and rude, but softer and warmer than the fire burning in your chest. “Gotta say, they're pretty fucking annoying.”

You swathed your tails around them and purred with the ferocity of an avalanche as you leaned into your partner and doted on the teeny tiny babies he'd somehow brought back to the land of the living. A part of you felt guilty for what this could mean. The rest of you screamed, I don't care.

“Look at them,” You whispered, tracing the roundness of their cheeks with a gentle touch. “They're beautiful.”

“Well, lookit who their parents are.” Sukuna chuckled and held you against his side, which you eagerly melted into. “Kenjaku had a plan for them too, turns out. Who woulda thought?”

“You never told me,” you said. “Why did you not tell me?”

“You would've been pissed,” Sukuna said, voice matter of fact. “Better to just do it and reap the benefits later.”

You looked up at him, and found his gaze locked onto you. “That's quite selfish.”

“I'm a king. I can do whatever I want. I can have whatever I want,” He reminded you. “As soon as I take care of a few pathetic, loose ends, everything'll be in place. Right where it all needs to be. And life goes back to normal."

Your heart did something funny when you read between the lines. “Must you–”

“Don't question me.” Sukuna grabbed your chin and forced you to look down at your snoozing babes. “You’ll lose this. All of this. You'll be left with nothing all over again if I don’t finish this off. That what you want, fox?”

“You know the answer,” you murmured, too content to let him guide you and sway your reason. He tugged your chin toward him, forcing you to look his way again.

“Tell me anyway.” Tell me what I want to hear.

How could you refuse?

“No matter the case," you murmured, soft as forgotten winter snow, "you will always have my favour, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

–

Forever to be loved, herein lays a God's young,

Imprisoned by none, held dearly by the Disgraced One.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x m!reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #male reader insert #male reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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windvexer · 8 months ago

Text

Six Directions Banishing for Removal of Malfeasance, and Protection Against Same

A version of a spell taught to me by the Beloved Goat, similar to other rituals that have been taught to me in the past. This spell requires no materials, but may take some playing around with it in order to get the feel of things.

The feel of things is the necessary component for this spell. We also need these definitions* to help feel out the right things:

Malfeasance: Wrongdoing against responsibilities and duties. Something should have happened according to honor and obligation, but instead something wrong was done.

Betrayal: Violation of trust.

Harm: Hurt, damage, unjust effects.

Identifying the problem

The first step is to conjure into your awareness the powers of malfeasance, betrayal, and harm that have been enacted against you.

OBFUK (observe, believe, feel, understand, or know) that within the universe are things harmful to you. Within the universe, malfeasance has been done against you.

Stay with this idea, considering that this is a force that exists in energetic form, and can therefore be manipulated and changed with energy. Play with the idea until you are able to OBFUK that malfeasance against you exists and can be dealt with.

Repeat this step with the concepts of betrayal and harm.

The more you understand and feel these ideas, the better. In this stage you are casting a net by defining what it is you want to deal with.

Contemplate what it really means to have your trust violated. Contemplate what it means for people to have responsibilities to you, and the debt that is created to your wellbeing when these responsibilities are ignored or neglected.

Dwell with these ideas until you have got a pretty good idea of what it is you want to banish and protect against. This stage may initially take several minutes, but with practice may be completed speedily.

Banishing

The second step is to banish malfeasance, betrayal, and harm in six directions. This step is the same for each direction, except you just turn in a circle and/or or re-envision the bisecting line.

Face north. Mentally bisect your body at the midpoint (solar plexus if lying down, middle of skull to top of feet if standing, etc).

OBFUK (observe, believe, feel, understand, or know) that this line of bisection extends infinitely across the universe. You will repeat this envisioning, so play around with it until you are comfortable with it.

Once you have gotten steady with the idea that a divide is going through your body that completely separates the universe into "the north," you are ready to banish.

Say, think, or sign, something quite like the following (note the four distinct sections; identifying problem, setting intent, commanding action, demanding results):

I see the malfeasance that is to the north of me. I see the betrayal that is to the north of me. I see the harm that is to the north of me. I revoke these things. I rebuke these things. I banish these things. They fade into the earth and into the blackness between stars. They turn to ash and dust and settle into the forest and into nebulae. They scatter to the winds and become the colors in the sunset. They sink into the waters and become algae the fish and frogs feed on. To the north of me, malfeasance, betrayal, and harm enacted against me are banished. They are no more.

It's best to stay with this portion until you are personally satisfied that you've said the right things. You may like to go on a diatribe about how the energies are burned by hellfire and consumed by demons, and so on.

The spell is all the better if you stay with each direction and gnash on the energies until you are satisfied that you have settled on the right words. Repeat sections as many times as you like, using any words that inspire you. Polish is less effective than conviction.

Protecting

After you have banished in one direction, re-focus on the bisecting line. In the middle of your body, on the axis of that line, is a core of power.**

OBFUK (observe, believe, feel, understand, or know) that this is your personal power.

That power is ready to flow around you in a spherical shield that protects you.

Say, think, or sign the following:

To the north, I am protected. I am protected from malfeasance. I am protected from betrayal. I am protected from harm.

As you intone this, OBFUK that an impermeable, impassable, perfect shell of protective power pours forth from you in a hemisphere, wrapping around you from east to west, entirely protecting you from what is in the north.

Repeat this portion as many times as necessary, or play around with it a bit, until you feel satisfied the protection has occurred.

Moving in 6 Directions

Repeat the Banishing and Protection step for each of the six directions (north, south, east, west, above, below).

You may go in any order you like. I move clockwise from north, hitting east, south, and west; then turning north again to finish above and below.

Each time you work in a new direction, adjust how you envision the bisecting line that goes through your body.

Your goal is to envision the line in such a way that all six lines intersect at the same point, if possible, marking a singular point. The banishing pushes everything outwards from this singular point.

In order to accomplish this, moving around or readjusting yourself may be necessary.

Remember that each time you conjure the Protection, it is a hemisphere. This means it necessarily overlaps the others. Half of the eastern hemisphere will overlap north, and the other half will overlap the south. The above and below hemispheres will encapsulate all for hemispheres before it.

You may find that banishment and protection are easier or harder in different directions, which is normal. Work in each direction until you are satisfied both with the banishment and the protection.

As you move through subsequent directions, you may find your hemispheres interlock or layer in ways you weren't expecting. Let the energy moves as it desires, as long as it conforms with your standards of protection.

When you have worked in 6 directions and laid down 6 hemispheres (to create 3 total overlapping spheres of protection), move to the finish.

Sealing

There are 3 complete spheres of protection around you; one created by the joining of north and south, one created by the joining of east and west, and one created by the joining of above and below.

Whether or not these spheres seemed to combine, or were combined, in earlier steps, seal everything now to properly finish the protection.

With your focus on yourself (not necessarily placed upon any direction), intone the following:

The protections to the north of me and to the south of me join together in perfect unison and perfect harmony. I am infinitely protected from all malfeasance, all betrayal, and all harm. The protections to the east of me and to the west of me join together in perfect unison and perfect harmony. I am infinitely protected from all malfeasance, all betrayal, and all harm. The protections above me and below me join together in perfect unison and perfect harmony. I am infinitely protected from all malfeasance, all betrayal, and all harm. I am infinitely protected from all malfeasance, all betrayal, and all harm.

The spell is complete.

[*The definitions are for the purpose of this spell, so we can sniff out what we are working on like a bloodhound sniffing out a rabbit. Dictionary definitions may differ.]

[**This is true for the purposes of the spell but not necessarily true in any other circumstance]

#spell #banishing #protection #banishing spell #protection spell #energy work

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noctiva · 1 month ago

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Okay but imagine Toby doing all that with his partner. NEEEED to be pinned down & ruined by this man. forest floor sex 🤤🤤

BIG OLD CW: this is one nasty ass drabble. cnc, rough outdoor sex, heavy degradation

Count me tf in. Especially if its like full on roleplay <3 likeeee you’re stumbling clumsily through the woods like some protag in a horror movie, blood pumping as your heart races in your chest - your stomach twisting with a mixture of fear and arousal.

Today had given you a thirty second head start, but you’re quickly learning that it didn’t matter at all. He was quick, and quiet. Years of doing this exact thing honing his stealth skills down to a near perfect degree. Almost as if he was gliding over the ground rather than running, his heavy boots barely making a sound as he pursues you. Maybe that was worse than if you could hear him, because you dont realize how close he is until he speaks.

”B-Breaking a sweat yet, lamm?” It sounds like he was right behind you, a few feet away at most. And he sounds so unbothered, so unaffected by the strain of the chase.

You were wheezing, lungs aching with each breath in. Your mouth was dry as a desert from gasping in lungful after lungful of crisp forest air, your eyes watering from the force of the wind hitting them. You felt like you were second away from collapsing, calves screaming every time your feet hit the ground.

And yet Toby, was laughing at you. “Poor thing.” You hear him snicker, closer this time. “C-C’mon, just give up! Y-You’re just makin’ yourself look p-pathetic.”

You let out a strained grunt, your teeth grit as you force yourself forwards more - hair whipping in the wind and sticking to your sweat slick skin. The adrenaline was definitely helping.Maybe, if you kept up this pace you could outrun him.

But, the forest was on Toby’s side. Of course it was. It was his domain after all, you were just a trespasser.

Your foot snags - on a root, on a fallen branch, you don’t even know - but with the speed you were going at it practically catapults you. You yelp as your feet hit the ground, and when your body collides with the dirt, it knocks the wind out of you. You wheeze, your eyes blowing open wide as you ears ring - but through the shock of the impact you can still make out one noise.

Toby laughing. Cackling, actually. Laughing so hard you’d be surprised if he wasn’t doubled over with it, but you don’t have the strength to look. Good thing he helps you with that. Within seconds you feel fingers curling into your hair and holding on tight, getting a nice fistful before he’s yanking your head backwards with such a force it makes your neck crack. “C-Caught you.” He leaning down to snicker into your ear, his voice rotted with sadistic glee. “Shoulda luh-looked where you were goin’.”

All you manage out is a strangled whimper, stars still dancing in your vision as you blink against the darkness. Toby doesn’t seem to mind the lack of response - if anything he might just like it. “D-Don’t you look defeated.” He snorts before letting go of your hair, letting your face smush back into the dirt. “Don’t tell me you a-actually though you were gonna win?”

You let out a soft huff, and he fucking cackles. “Cute, cute.” You feel something hard and heavy pressing against the back of your skull - the blunt end of his hatchet’s handle - before he’s using the leverage to smush your face even more into the earth below you. “Think i-its time for me to claim my winnings, hm?”

You barely have time to answer before he’s on you, dropping the hatchet in favour of slipping his gloved fingers under the waistband of your shorts - tugging them down in one swift move. “No panties?” Course not, that was a part of the game. “L-Lucky me, I caught a s-slut.”

You let out a pitiful yelp when one hand pulls your hips upwards, the other one pressing down between your shoulder blades to force your body into a mean arch - bare ass exposed to the cool night air, and when the breeze hits the slickness between your thighs you shiver. “A-And you’re wet? You’re o-one sick bitch. Soakin’ your fuckin’ shorts just cause of the fear.”

You hear his belt buckle come undone and you squirm fruitlessly just for show, which is immediately met with Toby forcing your body down further into the dirt. The pressure of his weight making all the air leave your lungs in a wheeze. “D-Don’t try and run away now.” His one hand is gripping your hip so tightly you’d swear it was bruising on contact. “F-Freak bitch. Just as fucked as I-I am, eh? Stupid slut’s just g-gonna take any cock she can get?”

”I’m not-“

”Sh-Shut the fuck up.” His voice is downright brutal as he pushes you further down, forcing a whimper out of your lungs. “Lie if you want, b-but your pussy’s tellin’ me the truth.” A wet slap to your cunt has you jolting, a confusing mixture of pain and pleasure blooming between your legs. Harsh, but it stings so good. Burns so good. Just like the stretch of his cock when he finally sinks into you.

Quick, without an ounce of prep, but the amount of slick you were gushing out makes it an easy glide as he pulls you back against him - getting every inch buried in your quivering body. It’s still a shock, still makes your eyes blow open wide. Still has you clawing at the dirt like a wounded animal, dirt caking under your fingernails.

You try to squirm free, but his grip his relentless - and so is the pace he picks up. He fucks you like it’s a punishment, like you had offended him by running away. Snapping his hips into yours as one hand snakes down into your hair again - using it as leverage to smush your face harder into the dirt. Getting some of it in your mouth because your jaw’s gone slack, pathetically trying to spit it out between moans.

“Tryna tell me you d-didn’t want this.” He rasps from behind you. “Fuh-Fuckin’ listen to you. You moan like a whore.”

You’re half convinced your ass is going to be bruised just from the sheer force of his hips slamming into yours, punching moans out of your lungs with each thrust in. Fucking into you like he owned the cunt he was abusing. (He did.) “Nasty fuckin’ b-bitch. Soakin’ my cock even though I might just lob your p-pretty little head off when I’m done.” You tighten up around him, and he’s barking out a laugh. “Oh, you really are fucked. You get dropped as a baby or somethin’?”

You can’t answer. Not with how much of an incoherent mess you’ve turned into. Drool and tears smeared across your face, dirt caked into your fucking teeth as your face drags against the ground with each thrust in. “You g-gonna cum to the idea of me killin’ you?” You let out a gargled whine. “You l-like thinkin’ about me slashin’ your throat wide open?”

Evidently, yes, because you’re cumming mere seconds after the words leave his mouth - tears springing to your eyes from the intensity, your body all but convulsing beneath him as you sob into the dirt.

The depravity of it all, is what sends Toby right down with you.

He slams his cock in deep, nestling right up against your womb when he spills into you - his head tilting back as he lets out a drawn out gravelly groan. His grip on your hips still like a vice, holding you there, forcing you to take every drop.

When he’s finally had his fill, he releases you, and you crumple. Body near limp as your lay sprawled against the forest floor - your mind dazed as you just barely register the feeling of his cum leaking down your thighs.

And you’re just about to tap out completely, your eyes heavy and fluttering, but then there’s a hand - calloused and rough, devoid of his gloves, gently cradling your face and tilting it upwards. “S-Still with me, pretty girl?”

All the harshness from before is gone. Fizzled out to make way for honey sweet adoration dripping from every letter. Through your blurry vision, you can just barely make out his face - but you can tell his gaze is fond as his words. “I d-didn’t break you did I?”

“No.” You murmur out softly, leaning into his touch. Toby smiles, smoothing his thumb against your cheek.

“No? Was I t-too mean?”

You let out a little shaky sigh before looking up to meet his gaze, your lips curling into a tired smile.

“Wasn’t mean enough.”

And Toby laughs. Not wicked and sadistic like he did before. Soft and warm, an amused little chuckle that makes your battered body feel gooey.

“Noted. G-Guess I’ll just have to try harder next time.” Then he’s bending down, scooping your limp body up into his arms like you weight nothing. Cradling your head as it comes to rest against his shoulder, leaning his down to press a soft kiss into your hair. “Now, let’s g-get you cleaned up, yeah?”

#lol uh #this was very self indulgent #no one talk to me lmfao #‘it’s a drabble’ I say #then write out a fully detailed scene #whatever lol #noctiva yaps #toby rogers smut #ticci toby smut

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vampiriito · 5 months ago

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Summer was my first solace.. (JJ Maybank x shy! kook! reader) Chapter 4

A/N: Hi loves! Here's the fourth chapter of summer was my first love! Again, if you have anything to share don't forget to comment or send asks, i love interacting with you ^.^ have fun reading (this was more JJ's POV focused for some reason, so enjoy JJ freaking out over the fact that he's starting to crush over our sweet reader.)

Summary: You and JJ both share the love for the marsh, and one summer day you cross paths after a few weeks of sharing secret looks and sweet smiles from across the street.

The marsh was your sanctuary, a haven where time seemed to slow and the cacophony of the world faded into a gentle symphony of nature's whispers. It was always full of spots so breathtakingly beautiful they stole your breath away—mundane and earthy in their allure. The emerald moss cloaked the ancient trees, while iridescent insects flitted over the bark, like living jewels adorning the forest. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled patterns that danced upon the ground. The way the rays pierced the foliage, making the tranquil ponds glisten like scattered fragments of sky, compelled you to keep the camera pressed to your eye, desperate to capture every fleeting moment. You found yourself constantly photographing and admiring, each click a testament to the beauty that surrounded you.

You cherished how your small interactions with JJ had become more frequent, even if words were seldom exchanged. It was as though timid glances and shy smiles were a secret language spoken only by the two of you. Those brief connections were enough—they became the highlights of your quiet, unassuming days. Each shared moment sent a gentle thrill through you, adding a layer of warmth to your solitary explorations.

The ground beneath your boots squelched with each step, the thick mud pulling at your feet as if the very earth sought to keep you there. A heavy mist clung to the air, wrapping around you like a cool, damp veil and mingling with the rich scent of decaying plant life and brackish water. Tall reeds swayed gently in the breeze, their whispering rustle the only sound aside from the occasional splash as unseen creatures darted through the waters. Every movement required effort, your legs sinking into the spongy ground as you weaved between clusters of wild grasses and shallow pools. The marsh was alive, teeming with the quiet hum of insects and the distant croak of frogs—a hidden world thriving beneath the veil of mist. Each step was uncertain, the mud thick and unforgiving, clinging to you as if reluctant to let you pass.

Yet, despite the marsh's resistance, you felt an inexplicable connection to this place. It mirrored the depths of your own soul—lush yet secluded, vibrant yet understated. Here, in the embrace of nature's raw beauty, you found solace. Your camera became an extension of yourself, capturing not just images, but emotions—fragments of time that spoke to your heart.

As you paused to catch your breath, a beam of sunlight broke through the mist, illuminating a cluster of wildflowers that peeked through the dense foliage, causing you to raise your camera to your eyes for the countless time in the last 10 minutes. Their petals glistened with dew, fragile yet resilient.

JJ, ever the restless teen he was, often found himself wandering the winding paths of the marshlands. It was a sanctuary of sorts—a place where the world's noise faded into the background, replaced by the gentle whisper of rustling reeds and the melodic calls of distant birds. The marsh wasn't just off the beaten path; it was a hidden realm untouched by the throngs of tourists that flocked elsewhere. Here, the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and wildflowers, and the golden sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting intricate patterns on the muddy ground. Something about this place resonated with him deeply, drawing him back time and again.

On this particular day, as JJ trekked along the familiar, muddy trail, his boots sinking slightly with each step, he was lost in his thoughts. The chorus of crickets and the gentle lapping of water against the banks provided a soothing backdrop. Suddenly, a soft but distinct sound caught his attention—the gentle click of a camera shutter. It was a sound he recognized instantly, one that stood out amidst the natural harmonies of the marsh. A spark of curiosity ignited within him.

A sly smirk tugged at his lips as his eyes scanned the landscape, searching for the source. There you were, crouched among the tall reeds, completely engrossed in your art. The delicate breeze played with a stray strand of your hair, and the focused determination on your face was palpable. The way the light caressed your features made you seem almost ethereal, a seamless part of the serene environment you were so intent on capturing.

JJ watched you for a moment, a mix of amusement and something softer warming his chest. You were so absorbed that you hadn't noticed his presence. The sight of you in your element was both familiar and captivating—a silent testament to why he found himself drawn to these marshes more often than he'd admit.

The way you focused intently on your photography, the way your gentle smile curved on your lips as you looked through the viewfinder, the way the sunlight danced in your hair, it all felt strangely captivating to him.

He waited a beat, debating with himself whether he should approach you or just leave you to your hobby. But his curiosity and strange pull towards you won out.

"Hey, little mouse."

He called out, the familiar nickname slipping off his tongue with ease. He sauntered over to where you were taking pictures, his boots squishing through the mud. He stopped a few feet away from you, shoving his hands into his pocket, and looking down at you with a casual smirk.

At the sound of the familiar nickname and voice, you peered away from your viewfinder, blinking a couple of times and adjusting your glasses. You didn't expect to see JJ there, even more so all alone, his friends nowhere in sight.

"Hi.." you mumbled in greeting, standing up from your crouched position, smiling sweetly at him.

JJ chuckled at your shy little greeting, his smirk transforming into a lazy, lopsided grin that sent a flutter through your chest.

"Fancy running into you here," he drawled, his voice carrying a teasing undertone.

He took a few casual steps closer, the space between you narrowing as his gaze roamed over you with a warm, appraising look. You stood amidst the tall reeds, clad in your favorite photography attire—a comfy jacket layered over a simple shirt, jeans slightly damp at the hems from the marsh, and well-worn boots caked with mud. Your trusty camera hung around your neck, its weight familiar against your chest.

JJ couldn't help but notice every little detail about you. The way your hair was slightly wind-tousled, stray strands escaping to frame your face in an effortlessly charming manner. A few wisps clung to the corner of your mouth, and he had the sudden urge to brush them aside. There was a smudge of mud on the lens of your glasses, a testament to your dedication and the dorkiness he seemed so captivated by.

The soft light filtering through the canopy cast a gentle glow over you, highlighting the delicate flush on your cheeks. Your eyes reflected the shimmering waters nearby, mirroring the hues of the marshland. To him, you looked like a part of the landscape you loved to capture—natural, unpretentious, and undeniably beautiful.

He smirked when he saw the smidge of mud, gesturing with his chin at it.

"You got mud on your glasses there, little mouse."

He teased, the smirk on his lips widening. He had a strange urge to just reach out and wipe the mud off himself but he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets to stop himself.

"I know.." you frowned, your eyes un-focusing a little to study the smudge of mud on the lenses of the glasses. You haven't been able to wipe it off, given you forgot your cleaning wipes at home. Classic you.

JJ chuckled, watching you frown at the smudge. He found the little frown on your face oddly adorable.

"What, you don't have anything to clean it off?"

He said this with genuine curiosity, taking another step closer so that he was standing just a foot or so away from you. He tilted his head to the side, his gaze studying your face closely.

You shook your head, your frown still in place.

JJ found the frown still on your pretty features amusing, and he chuckled again. Seeing you in such a situation somehow made him feel... a little protective. Which took him by surprise because he never felt protective over anyone.

He took a step closer yet again, his smirk replaced by more of a soft smile than a smirk. "Here, let me..." He said, gently reaching up and slowly removing your glasses from your face.

He held your glasses delicately in his hands, his fingers gingerly grasping the frames as if they were the most fragile of artifacts. Without the familiar barrier of the lenses, his eyes met yours directly, unfiltered and penetrating. He studied you closely, taking in every subtle detail—the way your lashes framed your eyes, the faint freckles dusting your cheeks, the vulnerability that seemed more pronounced without your glasses shielding you. The world around you appeared softer, edges blurring gently, casting everything in a muted glow. Without them, you seemed almost ethereal, a delicate presence in an otherwise sharp world.

A sudden, inexplicable urge welled up within him—a desire to protect you, to wrap you in his arms and shield you from anything that might cause you harm. It surged through him like a quiet storm, unexpected and intense. He quickly brushed the thought away, mentally shaking his head. That's silly, he chided himself. Why would I feel the need to protect her? Yet, the feeling lingered, a warm ember nestled in the corner of his heart, resisting extinguishment.

Glancing down at the glasses cradled in his hands, he became acutely aware of the faint blush creeping up his neck, the warmth rising to tint his cheeks a soft pink. The realization made his heartbeat quicken ever so slightly. He hoped the dim lighting might conceal his flushed complexion, that you wouldn't notice the subtle betrayal of his composed façade. The delicate frames felt almost weightless between his fingers, yet they carried the significance of this intimate moment. Gathering himself, he looked back up, offering a small, almost shy smile. His eyes searched yours, a mixture of uncertainty and something deeper flickering within them.

You pressed your lips together nervously, looking down at your own glasses in his big hands, feeling a bit exposed without your glasses on. The way he was holding them like they were fragile and priceless made your heart stutter and the pink dusting your cheeks intensify for some reason.

JJ couldn't help but notice the way you looked down at the glasses in his hands, a tinge of nervousness on your face. It stirred something within him, a strange softness that he didn't know he possessed.

He cleared his throat, a bit awkwardly. "Uh, hold on a sec," He reached into the back pocket of his shorts, pulling out completely the bandana which was tucked half way in.

He looked back at you and found himself staring into your wide, nervous eyes. For a brief moment, the world around them seemed to blur, and the only thing he could focus on was your pretty eyes, gazing at him with a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability.

He swallowed, his heart suddenly beating faster as he gently lifted his hand and used the bandana to carefully wipe off the smudge on your glasses.

The tenderness he used to wipe your glasses made you shift in your spot nervously, trying not to look like a lovestruck idiot. You were already doing that while waving at him across parking lots and across streets when you saw him. Why were you so goddamn inept at socializing?

JJ could feel the tightness in his chest, his hands trembling as he wiped the lenses with an almost frantic precision. His heart pounded in his ears, a heavy rhythm that felt far too intense for something as simple as cleaning glasses. But there was nothing simple about this moment. The way your body shifted nervously, the subtle flush creeping up your neck and staining your cheeks—it all felt too intimate, too close. And in the chaos of it, JJ could feel a tide of emotions he wasn’t prepared to face. He had spent so long building a wall around himself, convincing himself that he didn’t care about anyone. Not really. Especially not a kook.

But there he was, standing too close, unable to escape the pull of your presence. The weight of the moment pressed on him, suffocating him with feelings he had long kept buried. He was JJ—wild, untouchable, and fiercely independent. Yet here he was, handing your glasses back with a lingering hesitation, careful not to meet your eyes. He was terrified of what he might see if he did.

"Thank you.." you thanked him weakly, the world becoming much more sharper and clear with the help of your glasses back on. The smudge was gone now and although they weren't completely clean they had to do for now.

You found yourself just staring at him, your hands lingering on your camera, fidgeting with it once in a while, your expression bashful and admiring.

JJ was completely captivated by the way you stared at him, your eyes soft and unguarded as your fingers absently toyed with the camera. In that moment, his heart beat a little faster—this wasn’t the smoldering, lustful gaze he was accustomed to, but rather one filled with pure, innocent wonder. It disarmed him, unraveling defenses he’d built up over years of being seen as nothing more than a bad boy. The contrast left him reeling, emotions swirling in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

He cleared his throat, the sound breaking the fragile silence that had wrapped around the two of you. Sliding his hands back into his pockets, JJ fought to mask the vulnerability simmering beneath his cool exterior, desperate to reclaim some semblance of nonchalance even as every part of him felt exposed by your sincere admiration.

"What were you taking pictures of, anyway?"

He asked, his voice a little bit huskier than he would have liked. He glanced around, noticing how the sun was beginning to set, casting a beautiful golden hue over the entire marsh.

"Moss and... bugs." you spoke, your words so quiet that they almost looked they were only being mouthed, "i dunno if you remember... but i told you i usually use the pictures as inspiration for my paintings.."

JJ remembered that, though he would never admit it. He noticed that his mind wrapped around things you mentioned and later mulled over them when he was lost in thought. The small—and frankly not often enough, conversations were the highlights of JJ's days and he didn't know how to process the notion just yet.

He looked over your shoulder at a spot you'd been taking pictures of just before he walked in, noticing all the tiny, iridescent little insects scattered on the mossy ground. "Mosses and bugs."

He murmured to himself. There was a hint of a smirk on his lips, but it was a soft, almost fond one this time. He opened his mouth to crack a joke about how bizarre it was to find inspiration in something as ordinary as moss and bugs, but the words vanished the instant he met your gaze. You were still there, your eyes soft and unassuming, that same shy expression lingering as if you were hiding a secret only the sunset knew. The warm, fading light bathed you in a gentle glow, making you appear almost angelic, and for a heartbeat, his usual cool composure shattered into silence.

Clearing his throat once more, he averted his eyes, struggling to mask the tender vulnerability stirring within him. With a hesitant smile and a feigned casualness that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he ventured, "Right. So... you do that often?"

"Uh yeah... i like the marsh and the beach... they're usually full of small critters and such.." you nodded with a hint of excitement in the small grin tugging at your lips, although it was still reserved and quiet.

JJ found himself nodding along, amused by your soft, reserved excitement. Seeing you get so animated about the things you loved was somehow beautiful to him, and it made him curious to learn more. He studied your face as you spoke, his gaze following the way your lips moved.

"Sounds peaceful," He mumbled, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as another silence fell between the two of you.

He knew he should probably go. The evening was slipping away, and here he was—standing in the twilight and chatting with a kook as if you were one of his closest friends. And JJ liked to think he was your friend. Even though his pride and prejudice against kooks stood on the way sometimes.

Yet, something about this moment made him want to stay. The gentle cadence of your voice, the quiet comfort of your presence—it was unlike anything he had felt in a long time. It reminded him of the distant memory of his mother, the way she'd smile down at him and speak in a soft, reverent voice as if she was scared JJ would break. He didn’t want the moment to end.

He turned his gaze back to you, and for a heartbeat, your eyes met his. The final rays of sunlight danced across your face, wrapping you in a soft, golden glow that made you seem almost otherworldly. In that fragile, beautiful light, he found himself utterly breathless, caught in the wonder of it all.

Your eyes darted away from his nervously, noticing the golden hue washing over the marsh and the small pond to your side. You hesitantly raised the camera to your eyes, adjusting your glasses before snapping a couple of pictures of the sunset before lowering the camera to gaze back at JJ. In times like these when he looked so beautiful and glowy, you'd snap a picture from afar, but you couldn't do that now. So, you just stuck to staring up at him like a dumb idiot.

JJ noticed the way you raised your camera, focusing on the beautiful scenery around you. He watched you quietly, his gaze studying the way the light danced on your face as you got lost in the moment.

He was about to speak when he saw you lower the camera, your gaze returning to his. He froze under your intense stare, the silence growing between the two of you. For a brief moment, he forgot where he was and who he was with. You just looked at him with those wide, innocent eyes of yours, and he was frozen in place...

He swallowed, trying to think of something to say, something to break the silence. His mind was a jumbled mess, and he could feel the heat creeping up his neck. Damnit, why was he getting so flustered? He was JJ Maybank, the loose canon, the complete opposite of you. He didn't get flustered. He didn't get lost in the beauty of a pretty girl with innocent eyes. He did not get caught in the moment like some stupid lovestruck idiot...

"Sorry... I'm staring like an idiot again.." you mumbled, frowning gently. You felt compelled to speak, to apologize for being a dumbass and just going quiet on him.

JJ was snapped out of his daze by your soft, quiet voice. He quickly shook his head, a small smirk appearing on his lips. "No, it's... it's fine. I, uh..."

He ran a hand through his messy locks, looking away from you. He didn't know why he was suddenly so nervous. He felt flustered and off-kilter, like you had thrown him completely off his game, and he didn't know what to do about it.

He looked back at you, his gaze tracing the lines of your face. The last remnants of the sunset were fading, bathing you in a soft, golden glow. You looked even more pretty like this, and his heart did a strange little flip in his chest, coming to the realization that his stomach was full of butterflies.

"You know, uh... it's getting late." He said, his voice a bit hoarser than usual. He hated the way he sounded so flustered, so off his game for such a little thing as looking at you...

"Oh yeah... sorry, I'm holding you off aren't i?" you quipped up nervously, adjusting your glasses and fidgeting with your camera.

JJ chuckled softly at your nervous apologies, shaking his head. "Nah, you're not holding me up. I just... I should probably get going."

He shoved his hands into his pockets again. He wasn't sure why he was so reluctant to leave. There was a part of him that wanted to keep talking to you, keep standing here with you under the twilight sky. But he squashed the feeling, reminding himself that you were a kook. Kooks and pogues could never get along...

You found yourself frowning at his words, small and imperceptible but still a frown. You probably made it weird and awkward, again. And now he was trying to leave politely, as someone would.

You nodded, humming, "yeah.. uh, don't mean to hold you off from... stuff."

JJ noticed the tiny, almost imperceptible frown that formed on your lips, and it confused him. Why were you frowning? Were you... disappointed? That he wanted to leave? The idea made his heart skip a beat for some reason.

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "Ah, it's not like I got anything special to do. Just gonna hang out with the guys, nothing exciting."

He found himself talking, almost rambling on, as if he didn't want to leave.

Of course he did, he wasn't a loser like you whose only friend was now out of town and you were stuck just walking through the marsh like a troll.

You opened your mouth to say something but closed it again, nodding like a dork once again, fidgeting with your camera still.

JJ was beginning to feel desperate for something, anything to keep this conversation going. He didn't want to leave yet, but he didn't know what to say. Why was he being such a dumbass? He was usually so confident, so cool and collected. Why were his palms suddenly sweaty and his heartbeat suddenly out of control?

He looked at your camera, which you were fidgeting with still, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Can... uh... can I see your camera?"

"Oh yeah… uh, here," you murmured, stepping a little closer as you nervously extended your camera toward him. There was a tentative relief in your voice—a quiet gratitude that he had finally said something to break the heavy, awkward silence between you. You kept the camera hanging from your neck, a small act of defiance against normalcy, even though you knew that most people would have taken it off to smooth over the moment.

JJ accepted the camera, his fingers gently wrapping around it. He was suddenly very aware of how close you were standing to him, and he felt a strange flutter in his stomach.

He studied the camera in his hands, noticing the way you hadn't taken it fully off from around your neck. He suddenly smiled, an idea forming in his mind.

He raised the camera and suddenly pointed it at you. "Smile for me," He said, the grin on his face growing wider. He loved this, seeing your eyes widen as he suddenly raised the camera and aimed it at you. Your nervous, flustered expression on your face just made him want to tease you even more.

You were taken aback, your camera had never been pointed at you. You hated having your picture taken, and you usually hated the way you looked in photos, your eyes looking weird and your expression tense and awkward.

You furrowed your brows, frowning gently, "i usually, don't like my picture taken.."

JJ smirked at your comment, noticing the way your frown deepened slightly. He knew he was getting under your skin, and it was fun.

"Oh, come on, don't be so shy. Don't you wanna see how pretty you look through the lens of your own camera?"

He chuckled, his finger hovering near the shutter-release button, ready to snap a picture of you at any moment...

He watched the way you fidgeted nervously in front of the camera, your eyes widening slightly as you realized he was serious. He could see the way your hand clenched the strap of the camera around your neck, and he couldn't help but find it amusing how flustered you were getting from something as simple as him taking your picture.

He took a step closer, the camera now just a few inches away from your face. "Smiiiiile, pretty girl..."

You found yourself smiling weakly, your fingers reaching up to adjust your glasses in case he actually decided to take the picture. If not, you would just be sitting there smiling like an idiot. Which would be worse than the awkward, chopped conversation you had up until now.

JJ chuckled at your weak attempt at a smile, his eyes fixed on your nervous expression. You looked adorably cute, like a little bunny, and it was making his heart race like crazy. He loved how flustered you were getting from just a picture, and he was tempted to tease you even more. "Nah, that won't do. Smile bigger, come on.."

He moved the camera even closer, his finger still hovering over the button.

"Don't-.. you're not supposed to get this close when taking a picture." you scolded gently, the words not even sounding like a scold.

JJ smirked at your scolding, rolling his eyes. He took a step even closer to you, the camera now only an inch away from your face. He could see every detail of your pretty features at this distance, the way your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked, the way your cheeks were dusted pink, the way your lips parted nervously...

"Who cares about rules, yeah? Besides, now I can get a really good shot of your pretty eyes.."

JJ's gaze lingered on your face for a moment, his eyes tracing the contours of your cheeks and the shape of your lips. He was suddenly overwhelmed by a powerful urge to reach out and touch you, to feel the softness of your skin beneath his fingers, to cup your face in his hands. He shook the thought away, clearing his throat.

"Just smile for me, nice and wide. Think of something funny, something that makes you happy..."

Your thoughts drifted back to that one sunlit afternoon on the beach, when his laughter floated over the waves and filled the air with an effortless joy. You remembered the way you’d leaned in, peering through your viewfinder to capture that radiant smile—the subtle upturn of his lips, the spark in his eyes—as if each detail was a secret waiting to be discovered. In that quiet moment, your own smile, though still shy and tentative, had bloomed into something more honest and heartfelt. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the memory, realizing with a blush that you must have looked like a lovestruck idiot, utterly captivated by the magic of his simple, unguarded happiness.

JJ, who had been preparing to tease you some more, stopped suddenly, his breath catching in his throat. Your smile was suddenly wider, more genuine. It was beautiful, radiant, and it lit up your entire face.

For a moment, he was speechless. Seeing you smile like that, it was like a punch to the gut. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he could feel his palms getting sweaty. "There we go," he mumbled, his voice surprisingly hoarse.

He continued to aim the camera at you, his finger hovering over the shutter-release button. But he didn't take a picture, not yet. He was too caught up in the sight in front of him, the way your beautiful smile widened as you continued to think of something funny.

He swallowed, unable to tear his gaze away from your face. You were so goddamn pretty, it almost hurt to look at you...

JJ finally pulled himself together, reminding himself that he was supposed to be teasing you, not getting lost in the sight of your pretty smile.

"Okay.. say cheese, mouse." Before you could even react, he pressed the button, snapping a picture of your smiling face.

He lowered the camera, looking down at the screen to check the picture he had just taken. He expected it to be a silly, awkward picture of you as you made a funny face. But what he saw instead was something completely different.

You looked beautiful, radiant, your smile lighting up your face. But there was something else, something in your expression that he couldn't quite place. He just stared at the picture, his heart thudding faster and faster in his chest.

"I look so silly.." you mumbled, stepping a little closer to inspect the picture, your voice tinged with something like insecurity and disappointment.

JJ glanced up from the screen as you stepped closer, his breath catching in his chest for a moment as you stood right next to him. Your shoulder was almost touching his, and he could smell the faint scent of your perfume, something light and flowery that made his head spin, even with the different smells coming from around you both.

He looked back down at the camera, at the picture of you smiling so beautifully. Silly? How could you think that? You looked breathtaking. "What do you mean? You look gorgeous.."

The words slipped out before he could stop them. He felt his cheeks flush as he realized what he had just said, but he didn't take it back. It was true, you looked beautiful, and he suddenly had the urge to tell you just how absolutely stunning you were.

"Well... it's taken too close and... i look stupid.." you rambled a bit completely glossing over the fact that he called you 'gorgeous', grabbing the camera gently from his hands, studying the picture.

He watched as you grabbed the camera back, his fingers grazing yours accidentally.

He could see the insecurity in your expression as you studied the picture of yourself, and it made his heart ache. You didn't see it, didn't see how beautiful you were. He wanted to reach out and wipe away that frown on your face, to pull you closer and tell you just how beautiful you looked.

"You don't look stupid," he said, his voice a bit hoarser than usual.

You swallowed, looking up at him. You felt a sudden strike of confidence, aiming the camera at him nervously. You had a reason to take a picture of him now, given he also teased you. You adjusted the lens and stepped back a bit, your finger hovering over the shutter-release button, waiting for him to have a reaction.

JJ blinked as you suddenly aimed the camera at him, a surprised expression on his face. He hadn't expected you to turn the tables on him, but he couldn't help the thrill that raced through his body.

He had a brief moment of panic as he realized how unprepared he was. But instead of being his usual cocky self, he found himself feeling strangely giddy and nervous. He flashed you a quick, charming smile, trying to act nonchalant. "Go on then, take the picture." he drawled softly, his southern accent a little more accentuated since he was feeling nervous.

You smiled widely behind the camera, captivated by the way his smile lit up the fading light. In that golden hour, as the sun dipped over the marsh, his grin seemed to ignite the whole world—radiant, infectious, and utterly sincere. He looked breathtaking, as if he were glowing from within; even the soft breeze played with his hair, adding a touch of effortless charm.

You had taken countless pictures of JJ before, secret snapshots kept hidden away, but this moment felt different—special—because he’d actually asked you to capture it. With a gentle press on the shutter, you immortalized his smile, preserving his expression before it could fade away. Lowering the camera, you studied the image, your heart swelling with a tender warmth as you cherished this rare, genuine moment.

JJ's heart skipped a beat as he heard the shutter of the camera go off, the sound seeming to reverberate through his entire body. He suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious, wondering if he had looked okay in the picture. Had he smiled too much? Not enough? Had his hair looked weird? He couldn't tear his eyes away from your face as you studied the picture, his stomach doing somersaults in anticipation.

"Well, how did I look?" He asked, his voice cracking slightly.

"Beautiful..." you murmured reverently without realizing, "-i mean you look photogenic.." you mumbled, tilting the camera screen towards him to see the picture. The small flash from your camera had illuminated his face just a bit, combining with the hue from the sunset, giving the picture such an intimate soft look that you hoped he wouldn't tell you to delete it.

JJ felt a shiver run down his spine as you called him beautiful. It was a word that he had never associated with himself before, but coming from you, it sounded like the highest compliment in the world.

He looked down at the screen, his heart pounding as he saw the picture of himself. He had to admit, he looked pretty good. The light from the sunset gave his hair a soft, golden glow, and his smile was... sincere.

"Damn, I do look good," he joked, the corner of his mouth twitching.

He looked back up at you, his eyes fixed on your face. You looked so soft and pretty, holding the camera in your hands like it was a fragile bird, just how a Disney princess would. He suddenly had the urge to reach out and touch you, to run his fingers through your hair and pull you closer to him. But he resisted, knowing that he couldn't do that. It was too risky, too dangerous. Pogue and kook relationships didn't work out, he knew that.

Instead, he cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away from you and back at the picture in the screen.

"I can delete it if you want me to..." you spoke up hesitantly, looking at the side of his face adjusting your glasses.

JJ's heart sank at your words. Delete it? No, the last thing he wanted was for you to delete that picture. It was the first picture of himself that he actually found good, and it was taken by you.

He swallowed, trying to keep his voice casual.

"Oh, uh... nah, you can keep it. I mean, I look so good, it'd be a shame to delete it, right?" He forced a cocky smile onto his face, but it felt like a lie.

You smiled up genuinely at him, nodding "i just don't want you to think it's creepy that I'm keeping it."

JJ felt his heart flutter at your smile. You looked so adorable, a little bundle of sweetness and innocence. How could you possibly be creepy?

He cleared his throat again, trying to sound nonchalant "Nah, it's not creepy. I mean, it's just a picture, right? And I do look pretty damn good in it, can't blame you for wanting to keep it."

"Okay.." you looked back down at the picture, your eyes scanning over his smiling face in the screen of your camera. He looked so pretty it almost hurt.

JJ watched as you looked down at the photo, your eyes tracing the contours of his face. He could see the way your expression softened as you took in the sight of him, and it made his heart race even faster. He wanted to say something, to tease you and make a snarky comment, but he couldn't find the words. Instead, he just stood there, his eyes fixed on your face, watching the way the light bounced off your hair and glasses. He was starting to think he got it bad for a stranger..

"I'm telling you, Maisy... look!" you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you pointed to the screen of your laptop. Your voice held a rare enthusiasm that immediately captured Maisy's attention.

She leaned in closer, her strawberry-blonde hair cascading over her shoulder as she peered at the images displayed. The glow from the screen illuminated both your faces in the dim light of your room, casting a soft, warm hue.

"It's like those pictures that couples take of each other," you continued, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your cheeks flushed ever so slightly, a gentle pink that hinted at the emotions swirling within you.

On the screen were two photographs—one of you, captured by JJ that day at the marsh, and the other of him, taken by you moments later. In JJ's photograph, you stood amid the tall reeds, the golden rays of the setting sun enveloping you in a radiant glow, camera fairly close to your face. Your eyes reflected the shimmering waters, and a serene smile graced your features, natural and unguarded. In your photograph of JJ, he was bathed in the same golden light, his carefree grin infectious, eyes bright with a hint of mischief. The soft breeze had tousled his hair just so, making him appear both rugged and ethereal.

Maisy's eyes widened as she took in the images. "Wow," she whispered, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "These are... incredible. There's so much chemistry here."

You felt warmth flood your cheeks again. "Do you really think so?" you asked softly, biting your lower lip. Your fingers nervously traced the edge of your laptop, the significance of the photos settling deeper into your heart.

"Absolutely," Maisy replied, nudging you playfully. "I mean, look at the way he's looking at you in this one." She pointed to JJ's photo of you. "And the way you captured him... it's like you both see each other differently than anyone else does."

You gazed back at the images, your mind replaying the moments from that day. The marsh had been your special place, but sharing it with JJ had made it feel even more magical. The unspoken connection, the comfortable silences, the shared appreciation for the beauty around you—it all seemed to culminate in these photographs.

"Maybe," you murmured, a hopeful glint in your eyes. "It just felt... different. In a good way."

Maisy grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sounds like someone has a crush."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "It's not that simple. He's... well, he's JJ. And I'm just me."

"Exactly," she said confidently. "And maybe it's time he sees just how amazing 'just you' really is."

You sighed, a mix of happiness and uncertainty swirling within you. You shifted closer to your best friend on the floor of your room, smiling brightly, "i can't believe he actually came up to me in the marsh on his own agenda.."

Maisy shook her head in disbelief, a small smile on her lips. "I know, right? He actually talked to you. And he let you take a picture of him." She looked at the photo of JJ's smiling face on your laptop screen, her eyes narrowing in thought.

"You think he has a crush on you or something?"

You smiled appreciatively at her question, the possibilities dancing in your mind. Turning back to the laptop, you allowed yourself to linger on JJ's image for a moment longer, your heart fluttering softly.

"Why would he? I looked like a swamp troll when he saw me... maybe he didn't even recognize me at first.. that's why he came up to me." you furrowed your brows, studying JJ's face with a look of longing.

Maisy rolled her eyes at your comment. "Are you serious? You looked adorable and he knows it. Trust me, guys have a sixth sense for when a girl looks good."

She poked your shoulder teasingly, a smirk on her face.

"And he definitely knew it was you. Why else would he come up to you out of the blue like that and let you take his picture?"

"Yeah he did call out to me using that nickname... the mouse one. And besides who else would be in the marsh crouched down between reeds to take pics of bugs..?" you chuckled, shaking your head.

Maisy laughed, nodding her head.

"Exactly! Only you would be doing something like that. And he knows that. Trust me, there's no way he didn't recognize you."

She leaned closer, a mischievous gleam in her eye.

"And the nickname? That's a dead giveaway. He clearly has a thing for you, babe."

"You think so? You know at the party... when the whole thing with 7 minutes of heaven happened? He offered to help me with speaking to people... and he was like: 'you could talk to me.'" you turned to face her fully, "Since that day; he kept waving back and smiling whenever he saw me around town... winking sometimes too."

"Are you kidding? That's, like, the biggest sign ever." Maisy said, her eyes widening in disbelief.

"He offered to help you talk to people? And he waves at you and smiles? And FLIRTS?! Come on, girl, he clearly likes you." She grabbed your shoulder, giving you a little shake.

"You need to make a move before it's too late."

"How am i supposed to?" you laughed, adjusting your glasses after she shook you gently, "i told you, i barely even speak whenever we interact."

Maisy rolled her eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "You don't need to do any fancy pickup lines. Just try actually talking to him sometime. I know you're shy, but I think he likes that about you. He wouldn't be waving and smiling if he didn't."

She thought for a moment, a sly smile spreading across her face.

"You know what? I have an idea..."

Maisy grabbed your shoulders in excitement. "I've got it. You need to find an excuse to talk to him again. Like, ask him for something, anything. Just get him alone so you can have a decent conversation."

She paused, her eyes narrowing in thought.

"But it can't just be a normal conversation. You need to catch him off guard. Surprise him. That way, you'll be in the driver's seat and he'll be the one flustered."

Easier said than done. You despised surprises—they made your heart race and your palms sweat, catching you off guard every time. Yet, despite your aversion, you'd confidently told Maisy you’d figure it out and win over JJ in no time. As if that was possible. The mere thought made you scoff internally; JJ was like the wind—free, unpredictable, and impossible to capture.

The afternoon sun bathed the town in a warm, golden glow as you strolled along the familiar streets. Shopkeepers were beginning to prop open their doors to let in the summer breeze, and the scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the bakery on the corner, mingling with the sweet aroma of blooming jasmine and the ocean breeze. You made your way toward the quaint bookstore nestled between the café and the antique shop—a favorite haunt of yours since childhood.

The sidewalk was dotted with clusters of wildflowers pushing through cracks in the pavement, their tenacity a quiet inspiration. You felt a pang of melancholy realizing that summer was slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. The stack of books in your tote bag was a tangible reminder that the season of freedom was nearing its end.

As you approached the bookstore, its faded sign creaked softly in the breeze: The Novel Nook. The peeling paint and ivy-covered bricks gave it an ageless charm, a sanctuary for dreamers and seekers of stories. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, a tiny bell jingled above, announcing your arrival. The familiar scent of aged paper and leather-bound volumes enveloped you, calming your restless thoughts.

You wandered between the tall shelves, running your fingertips over the spines of countless books. Each title whispered promises of distant lands, epic adventures, and lives so different from your own. The hushed atmosphere was occasionally broken by the soft rustle of pages and the distant sound of whispered conversations. This place was your refuge, a world away from the uncertainties that awaited with the start of your senior year.

The thought of returning to school filled you with a mix of apprehension and resignation. Hallways buzzing with chatter, the pressure of exams, the unspoken social hierarchies—it all felt overwhelming. And then there was JJ. The corners of your mouth twitched upward involuntarily at the thought of him. His easy laughter, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, how a single dimple appeared on his left cheek—it was ridiculous how effortlessly he occupied your thoughts.

"Thinking of anyone I know?" A familiar voice pulled you from your reverie.

You glanced up to see Maisy leaning against the end of the aisle, a playful smirk on her face. Her strawberry-blonde hair was piled into a messy bun, wisps escaping to frame her freckled face. She sipped an iced coffee, condensation dripping down the sides of the cup.

"Just lost in thoughts," you replied with a modest shrug, a slight blush creeping into your cheeks.

Maisy sauntered over, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Let me guess—tall, blond, and infuriatingly charming?" She nudged you lightly with her elbow.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "Am I that transparent?"

"Only to me," she laughed. "So, have you made any progress on that little mission of yours?"

You sighed, glancing down at the book in your hands—The Great Gatsby. "Not exactly. It's not like I can just walk up to him and say, 'Hey, JJ, fancy a date?'"

"Why not?" Maisy challenged. "What's the worst that could happen?"

You shot her a skeptical look. "Public humiliation? Crushing rejection? Need I go on?"

She waved a dismissive hand. "Please. JJ's not like that. Besides, I've seen the way he looks at you."

Your heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"

Maisy grinned knowingly. "Like you're a sexy Rubik's cube that he can't wait to solve. Trust me, there's more to that boy than meets the eye."

You pondered her words with a small amused chuckle, a flutter of hope stirring within you. Could it be possible that JJ saw you as more than just a passing acquaintance? The notion both excited and terrified you.

"Maybe," you conceded softly.

Maisy linked her arm through yours. "Tell you what, there's a beach bonfire this weekend. Perfect setting for a little serendipity, don't you think?"

You hesitated. "I don't know, Maisy…"

She squeezed your arm gently. "Come on, what's summer without a bit of adventure?"

Looking around the cozy confines of the bookstore, you took a deep breath. Perhaps Maisy was right. Maybe it was time to step out of the pages of your books and start writing your own story.

"Alright," you agreed with a tentative smile. "But no meddling."

"Scout's honor," she said, holding up three fingers in mock sincerity.

As you both headed toward the register, the weight on your shoulders felt a little lighter. The prospect of the bonfire filled you with a mix of nerves and anticipation. Outside, the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the town and painting the sky with hues of pink and orange.

Exiting the bookstore, you glanced back at The Novel Nook, its windows aglow with warm light. You bid your good-bye with Maisy, given the red-head was in one of her moods and 'desperately needing to run by the beach', and started walking down the side-walk leisurely.

JJ was leaning against the wall of a corner store across the book store, his arms crossed over his chest as he talked to his friend John B. He was smoking a cigarette, his head tilted back against the bricks as he blew out a plume of smoke into the air, waiting for his other friends to exit the store so they can dip.

He was in a good mood. The day had been nice, the weather warm and the town fairly peaceful. He was enjoying chatting with his buddy, when something across the street caught his eye.

He lifted his head off the brick wall, a small frown on his face as he squinted at the figure walking down the sidewalk.

"Is that...?" he muttered to himself. He watched as the figure came closer, their face becoming more clear with each step. His heart skipped a beat when he realized it indeed was you.

He took another puff of his cigarette, his eyes not leaving you. He felt the familiar jolt of excitement in his stomach as he watched you approach, his mind going blank for a second.

John B, noticing his friend's distraction, followed his gaze to see what he was looking at. He smirked, elbowing JJ in the side.

"Hey, why don't you go say hi?" he teased, a mischievous grin on his face.

JJ's head whipped around to look at John B, an agitated expression on his face. He tried to brush off his friend's comment, pretending like he didn't care.

"Who, her? She's a kook. She's probably here to shop for some fancy dresses or something."

Just then, your gaze caught sight of a familiar figure across the street. JJ was leaning against the weathered brick wall of a narrow alley, one foot casually propped behind him, his hands tucked into the pockets of his worn jeans. The golden rays of the late afternoon sun cast a soft halo around him, highlighting the tousled strands of his sun-bleached hair. His eyes were hidden beneath the shadow of his lashes as he watched and laughed with his friend intently, a picture of effortless cool that made your heart skip a beat.

Ever since that conversation at the party, these chance encounters had become a cherished part of your day. Gathering your courage, you offered a shy wave, your fingers barely lifting from the hold on your wallet. A gentle smile curved your lips, a silent greeting that you hoped conveyed more confidence than you felt.

JJ's gaze shifted from John B, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours across the expanse of the street. For a moment, everything else seemed to fade—the chatter of passersby, the distant roar of the surf—all muted in the background. A slow, genuine grin spread across his face, dimples appearing as he lifted a hand in return. The simple acknowledgment sent a warm flutter through your chest, like the wings of a small bird taking flight.

Traffic passed between you—a blur of colors and movement—but neither of you looked away. The world continued its hurried pace, yet here, in this shared moment, time felt suspended. You noticed the subtle way his posture shifted, as if he was considering crossing the street. The possibility sparked a mix of excitement and nervousness within you.

Mustering a bit more bravery, you called out, your voice carrying over the ambient noise. "Hi, JJ!"

He cupped a hand around his ear playfully. "Can't hear you!" he shouted back, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Chuckling softly, you took a step closer to the curb. "I said, 'Hi, JJ!'" you repeated, louder this time.

He laughed, the sound genuine and infectious, his best friend watching the scene unfold curiously. "That's better!" he replied. "What brings you out on this fine day, mouse?"

"Just picking up some books," you replied, holding up the bag as evidence. "Summer reading list waits for no one."

He nodded appreciatively. "Always the studious one. Any good titles?"

Before you could answer, the pedestrian light changed, and without thinking, you began crossing the street toward him. Each step was a blend of eagerness and hesitation, the distance between you shrinking with every heartbeat. As you reached the other side, JJ pushed off the wall, standing a little taller. You shot John B a hesitant nod of acknowledgement, the brunette smirking slyly.

JJ was once again struck by how adorable you looked. Your soft voice, the way you looked at him with those big eyes behind your glasses, it sent a thrill down his spine. He mentally cursed himself for feeling this way.

He cleared his throat, his mind racing to find something to say, deciding that he'd be more content on talking to you without his best friend watching the 2 of you.

"I'll be back in a minute," he mumbled to John B, signaling for you to follow him down the sidewalk, a bit further away from the prying ears of his best friend.

"Books, huh? What kind of books are you into? Fancy romance novels or something?"

He mentally slapped himself for asking that question. Romance novels? Seriously? What a stupid question.

"Doesn't really matter... i read every genre, if the book is nice." you smiled almost reassuringly, shrugging nervously.

Despite his teasing, JJ actually found your answer interesting. It's not what he would have expected from a kook, but then again, he was starting to realize he had a lot of misconceptions about you.

"Every genre, huh? Damn, that's a lot of books. You must read like, 3 books a week or something."

"Well... yeah especially since i don't really enjoy social stuff.." yeah dumbass, he found you lurking around alone 2 separate times, once on the beach and the other in the marsh, you thought sardonically.

JJ found himself secretly pleased at your confession. Yeah, he knew you didn't enjoy social stuff, but hearing you say it out loud made him feel... special in a way.

He raised an eyebrow at your comment, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Well damn, you're really an antisocial little mouse, huh?"

He stepped a little closer to you, his eyes roving over your face. He wanted to see if he could get a reaction out of you, to see if he could get you out of your shell a little.

"So you'd rather sit at home and read a book than party or hangout with your friends?" he teased, his voice just a bit lower than usual.

"Friend. I only have one friend.." you corrected almost shyly, shuffling on your feet.

JJ found himself chuckling at your shy correction. One friend? Only one? How was that possible? You were so damn cute, how did nobody want to be friends with you?

"And who's your only friend, mouse?" he asked, his smirk growing wider.

"You saw me get dragged around by her... Maisy? She's got the strawberry blonde hair? kinda bubbly and confident?" you mumbled thoughtfully, trying to describe your best friend in a way that made sense. "...and well... i assume you're also my friend in a way." you added more quietly, hesitant that he might think it's weird and correct you.

JJ's heart skipped a beat as you mentioned him being your friend. Damn, he was not expecting that. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but inside he was practically jumping for joy. It was silly, but for some reason, the idea of you liking him as a friend made him really happy.

"Yeah, I remember Mimsy. She's pretty cool. And uh... you consider me a friend, huh?" he asked, his voice a little softer than he intended.

He took another step closer to you, reducing the gap between you to almost nothing. His eyes flicked over your face, studying your expression intently. He was secretly hoping to see some sign that you felt the same fluttering in your chest that he was feeling right now.

"That's, uh... that's interesting. I didn't think you'd want to be friends with someone like me."

"Why not? you... uh, you said you wanted to help me to speak with people more freely... if you remember.." you felt like your awkwardness was rubbing off on him, like a disease. You tried to gauge out his expression, for any hint of being weirded out by your declaration.

JJ's heart skipped a beat once again as you brought up that conversation where he'd offered to help you to speak to people more. He remembered it vividly, the way he'd felt an unfamiliar draw towards you after the party game.

At your question of why he'd be surprised that you wanted to be friends with him, he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head.

"Mouse, I don't think you realize just how different we are from each other. It's not normal for a pogue and a kook to actually want to be friends."

You furrowed your brows in confusion. Status was never your concern, especially having been in love with JJ for years now. But maybe he minded? and he was selective about that stuff. "oh.. well i don't-... care about that. I'm sorry if i came off weird.." you mumbled, stumbling over your words a little now.

JJ was quick to step closer to you, his arms moving to gently grab your shoulders as you stumbled over your words. He didn't want you to think that you had somehow messed up by saying you wanted to be friends with him.

"Hey, hey, hold on. You didn't come off weird at all. I'm just... I'm just surprised that you want to be friends with me, that's all. No matter the status difference between us."

"Well... the whole thing with people living on figure 8 is that they almost never see past the kook thing.. i like every part of the island. I prefer the cut anyway.." you swallowed hard, adjusting your glasses and clutching the wallet you were holding in your hand nervously.

JJ couldn't help but be amazed by you. Here you were, this shy, antisocial, bookworm kook who preferred the cut to her own home, who saw past all the nonsense between different social classes. You were so much different than all the other rich, snotty, entitled kooks he knew.

He realized he had still been holding on to your shoulders, his hands moving down to grab your wrists instead. He gently squeezed them, his eyes locked on yours.

"You... you're really something else, mouse."

JJ continued to hold your wrists, his fingers subconsciously tracing small circles against your skin. For once, he didn't feel like he had to keep up his usual laidback, arrogant act around you, and it felt nice.

"I gotta say, it's refreshing to hear a kook say they like the cut. And it's even more refreshing to hear a kook talk about people and not just status or things."

He gave a slight shrug, his smirk growing sly once again.

"You know, I'm beginning to wonder if you're really a kook at all."

"Maybe I'm not even real.." you joked quietly, your heart racing and your palms sweating a little as he held onto your wrists, a small smile making its way on your lips.

JJ chuckled as you jokingly mentioned not being real. His fingers continued to run gently across your wrists, enjoying the feel of your skin under his touch.

"Nah, you're definitely real. I can feel you right here."

He gave your wrists a small squeeze, his eyes looking at you in a way that made his stomach flutter.

Your expression became a little more bashful as he squeezed your wrists, feeling like you were losing the sense to speak again, especially while you looked up into his eyes. They looked so pretty, like ocean water and jewels, the look in them was genuine, like he actually enjoyed speaking with you.

JJ didn't miss the way your eyes softened and your expression grew bashful as he gently held your wrists and squeezed them. He felt his heart skip a beat and his pulse quicken. Looking down into your eyes and seeing the way you looked up at him... he'd never seen a more beautiful sight.

He took a tiny step closer, his body almost pressed up against yours now. His voice was a little softer than before as he spoke again. There was no teasing in his tone anymore.

"Y'know, mouse, I gotta admit something."

His voice was low, almost a whispered murmur. His gaze was glued to yours, still gently holding onto your wrists.

"When I offered to help you with talking to people, I didn't really think you'd actually take me up on the offer. But... I'm glad you did."

"Well another friend won't hurt... that's one more than... well one." you chuckled, grimacing awkwardly. Your brows raised a bit as if you remembered something. Maisy's idea! Surprise him-

You fidgeted slightly, your wrists slipping from his grasp as you dug through your tote bag, pulling out a couple of small polaroid looking like pictures. The ones you took in the marsh, the one of him and the one he took of you.

JJ's heart leapt when he saw the pictures you held out to him. They were the pictures from the marsh, proof that you had actually taken them. He took the pictures from you, his fingers brushing against yours, causing a small shiver to run down his spine.

He looked down at the pictures, then looked back up at you. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"You... you went and got these developed, huh?"

"I thought you uh, wanted... the one of you. Since you said it looked good" you extended the picture of him slightly, holding the one he took of you in the other hand. He probably wasn't too interested in that one anyway.

JJ's eyes flicked from the picture of himself to the one of you. He wasn't expecting you to have gotten one of you developed as well. He was a little surprised (and maybe a tiny bit excited) to see it.

"Actually..." He hesitantly pointed at the picture of you, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. He was curious to see your reaction.

"I wouldn't mind having both."

Oh my god. You probably looked like a dumbass again. You felt your self blush furiously at his words, your brows raising. Why would he want that? A picture of you? "Uh yeah.. sure here.." you fumbled with the picture of you, almost dropping it to the ground as you handed it to him.

But you also wanted to have the one of him, so he'd have the one of you and you the other. You pointed shyly to the picture of him mumbling nervously, "can i have this one then?"

JJ couldn't help but chuckle as you fumbled with the picture of yourself, your cheeks going adorably pink. Seeing you flustered like this... He couldn't help but smile as you handed the picture of yourself to him, and then shyly pointed to the picture of him, asking to have it.

"Yeah, it's all yours, mouse."

He didn't even hesitate as he handed you the picture of himself, secretly loving the way you looked as you blushed and got all flustered.

JJ watched as you carefully tucked the picture of him into your wallet, a small smile on his face. The fact that you had gotten the picture developed, let alone wanted to keep it, sent his mind reeling.

He wasn't used to people wanting anything to do with him, let alone someone actively wanting a picture of him. It made his heart flutter in an unfamiliar, but not unpleasant way.

He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. "So... uh, how come you decided to get these developed, anyway?"

"Well i developed so many more and uh yeah..." lies; liar liar, pants on fire, you scolded yourself mentally. You were gonna develop the one of him alone, but somehow you ended developing the one of you too. So him asking you to keep yours felt so... i dunno, romantic to you? Like couples doing stuff for each other.

JJ raised an eyebrow at your response, his eyes narrowing slightly. It was kinda weird that you had developed so many pictures all of a sudden. But he didn't pry too much further. He mentally shrugged it off, secretly enjoying how adorable you looked as you blushed and fidgeted nervously.

He silently stared down at the picture of you in his hand, his fingers gently tracing the edges. The soft, shy look on your face made him feel weirdly giddy. Like there was a swarm of butterflies all fluttering in his stomach.

JJ continued to stare at the picture as if in a daze, his thoughts racing. The more he looked at the picture, the more his heart thumped in his chest. He didn't understand why he was feeling so flustered. This was just a picture, right? So why did it feel so damn important to him? Like the picture was suddenly the most precious thing in the world?

He could feel a slight heat rising in his cheeks. He took a small breath, trying to calm himself down. He glanced down at you, studying your expression.

"You don't have to keep it if you want to... i won't... mind." you found yourself speaking, anxious that he was rethinking the whole thing now that he was staring at the picture of you more intently. Beside he had no reason to keep it right? you had barely known each other. Well he barely did, cause you knew him pretty well given how long you had been in love with him.

JJ's eyes snapped up from the picture at your words, his heart skipping a beat. Did you really think he didn't want the picture? He quickly clutched the picture tightly in his hand, his heart fluttering as he spoke.

"No... no I want it. I definitely want it."

He gave a shake of his head, his thoughts awhirl. Did you know how cute you looked in the picture? How it sent a strange, fluttery feeling through his body every time he looked at it? How much he found himself wanting to study it?

JJ's heart continued to race as he held the picture in his hand tighter. He found himself glancing from you, to the picture, to you again, his head practically spinning. Why the hell was he feeling so flustered and nervous now? He always had some sort of control over his emotions, but not anymore. Not with you around..

He was torn between wanting to look at the picture and wanting to look at you. Both made his heart race and butterflies swarm in his stomach, but he just couldn't force himself to look away from you.

"That's good then..." you smiled up at him, adjusting your glasses and glancing down at the picture of you in his hand. You had glanced over his shoulder, noticing his best friend still waiting for him intently. "i think your friend is waiting for you." you pointed shyly at John B over his shoulder.

JJ's eyes flicked up to look in the direction you were pointing towards. Sure enough, John B was still standing there by the corner store, a slight curious but impatient expression on his face.

JJ muttered a small curse under his breath. He'd been so distracted talking with you, he'd forgotten that he'd told John B to wait for him.

He glanced back at you, his heart sinking even more now. How the hell was he supposed to leave you?

JJ let out a small sigh, his shoulders slumping a little as he realized he had to reluctantly leave you to go back to John B. His heart was practically doing cartwheels in his chest as he spoke.

"Yeah, I guess I should get going. Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you, I know you were probably walkin' home.."

He mentally scolded himself for the disappointing tone of his voice. He really didn't want to leave you, but he didn't want to upset and ditch his best friends either. Damnit, it was so confusing.

"Oh no it's okay... besides you said you wanted to help me speak to people more easily, and it kinda helped a little... -talking to you i mean.." you reassured him almost too quickly hands shooting up on a assuring gesture, cursing yourself inwardly at how desperate you sounded.

JJ's heart thumped hard as you reassured him that you didn't mind talking with him, the small, almost giddy feeling welling up inside him more and more.

He didn't want to admit it, but he was actually really happy that his presence somehow helped you. And he secretly couldn't wait to have another excuse to talk with you again as well. But he didn't want to seem desperate either - or admit that he actually wanted to spend more time with you.

He quickly nodded his head at your words, stuffing the picture carefully into his pocket. He tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke again.

"Yeah, anytime. I... uh, I enjoy talking with you too, Mouse."

His eyes flicked over to John B behind him, then back to you. Damn it, why did he feel so reluctant and torn about leaving you?

Another small curse went through his head as a thought suddenly occurred to him. What if he didn't see you again? Even though he'd said he'd help you with your shyness and talking to people... there was no guarantee he'd see you again. The thought was somehow painful, even though he could just walk away from you right now.

He hesitantly took a small step towards you, a bit of nervousness in his voice now.

"So, uh... can I see you again sometime? Just so I can help you... y'know, more with talking to people?"

"Yeah of course." you agreed almost too quickly once again, your eyebrows shooting up in nervousness and excitement. "of course we can hang out.."

JJ felt his heart flutter once again as you eagerly agreed to hang out with him more in the future. He mentally cursed his excitement and anxiety, trying to keep a cool, collected expression.

He nodded his head at you, a small smile on his face. It was a struggle to keep the smile off his face actually – he suddenly felt like grinning like an idiot. But he had to keep his cool, he couldn’t show how excited he really was.

"Awesome, mouse. I’m looking forward to it."

You gave him a small grin, not being able to keep it off your face as looked up at him, reaching up to pat his forearm awkwardly and quietly. How casual, just an awkward pat? how's that for making a move? Maisy would be disappointed if she saw you right now. She'd be expecting at least an awkward side hug or something.

JJ felt a sudden rush of warmth at your timid pat on his forearm. It was a small gesture, maybe even a little awkward, but it somehow made his heart skip a beat. He couldn't help but admire the shy smile on your face, his eyes lingering on your lips for a brief moment.

He silently scolded himself as his thoughts strayed to what it might be like to kiss you, to cup your face and finally taste the lip gloss adorning your pink lips. He'd like to think it was cherry, maybe peach? He tried to brush the thought away, telling himself that this was just an innocent, casual interaction - not some romantic moment.

Damnit, he was feeling conflicted and frustrated now.

He quickly shook his head, trying to clear away the conflicted thoughts and confusing emotions swirling in his mind. He couldn't let himself dwell on these thoughts, he had to keep it casual.

He forced a small smile and raised a hand in farewell.

"Uh... I should probably get going before John B flips out. I'll, uh, see you later, yeah?"

You raised your hand, waving at him shyly as he started to walk away, flashing him a genuine smile. Although you were disappointed the moment had to end, you got to keep a picture of him. And he kept one of you. The thought actually sounded insane. It was absolutely out of this world and the little girl in you who fell in love with JJ Maybank that day in 3rd grade was swooning, having a field day and freaking out; all at the same time while you sat there awkwardly waving to him.

JJ was secretly tempted to look back at you as he walked away, to get one more glimpse of your shy, genuine smile. But he resisted the urge, making himself keep walking. He had to keep up his 'cool, collected, don't-care-about-anything, badass' persona.

But as he approached where John B was waiting, he couldn't help but pull out the picture you gave him from his pocket.

He took a quick glance at it, studying the picture closely, taking in your shy expression and the smile on your face.

God, JJ was crushing hard..

—♡‧

A/n: Too long? Also reader's picture definitely looks a little 0.5x, just because JJ is silly 😋 Love the 'she fell first- he fell harder trope.'

Tag-list*:･ﾟ✧ @cali-888, @bee-43, @jjscoquette, @melsbels-zip, @stanseventeen Join the tag-list!

Divider credits: @cafekitsune @fairytopea @strangergraphics-archive

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