#the entire outside of the container is sticky now

[ghostickle]

Going to personally fight the bitch that makes these specific sensory toys

[pynkfairyheart]

pairings: peircer eren x black reader

warnings: smut 18+, kinda pervy eren

Good girl

“Hello?” Your soft voice rang over the chimes as you entered the tattoo parlor.

The shop was quiet, seemingly empty besides the softening chimes of the door and surprised cursing down the long hall.

“Shit- yeah. Just give me a minute. My apologies” The culprit of the cursing called.

In the meantime, you took a look around the lobby. The reviews didn't do the place justice. The largest wall contained a bright colorful mural, contrasting beautifully with the dark floors and connected black walls.

While admiring the piece of artwork, heavy thudding from the long hallway turned your attention to the most gorgeous man you had ever seen.

You never believed in love at first sight, up until now. You hadn't even known the man's name yet, but you craved him. The reviews warned you the entire staff was attractive but they clearly left out that this man was a god.

His long hair was pulled into a low bun, strands falling in his face, the color contrasting against his pale skin. He was tall, with a full sleeve on one of his muscular arms, and his green eyes had you drowning immediately. He couldn't be Onyankopon, they said he was a brother. Maybe Connie or, Levi-

“Hi, I'm Eren” He introduced himself after swallowing the large knot in his throat.

While in your own trance, you failed to notice how he froze the moment he saw you. The bright light you stood under showcased the sparkles of your pretty brown skin.

Your legs were on display as a result of the simmering heat outside, thick thighs causing them to roll up slightly. The fitted t-shirt you wore allowed the hardened buds of your nipples to peek through, despite the hot weather.

Eren never considered himself a pervert but the way his mind instantly thought about sucking on them till you begged him to fuck you had him thinking otherwise.

“Hi, I'm [☆]. Is this a bad time?” Oh, he could have come on the spot, your voice sounded even better without the numerous walls separating you and god your perfume had him wanting to devour you on the reception desk.

“No, no I just don't know how much I can do for you, the AC is out in all the rooms but mine and I don't even know how long that's gonna last so if you're looking for an hour long tat session you'll have to come back” He crossed his arms, muscles contracting against the white tee.

“Oh no, I'm just hoping to get a few piercings but I can definitely come back another time”

“No, I can do a couple of piercings. What were you thinking?” He grabbed the paperwork from under the counter, praying one of them would be your chest.

“Uh well, I want the other side of my nose, belly button, venus dimples, and my nipples but I understand if you can't do all of that or the last one I'll just come back”

“No, no I can do it,” He said too quickly, clearing his throat awkwardly before handing you the paperwork.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

“Good girl. You're doing such a good job for me, pretty. Just hold on for one second, lovey”

He was currently doing your last dimple piercing. The pain was unimaginable at first but as soon as the praises left his mouth all was forgotten besides the growing stickiness that rested between your thighs.

He praised you after every piercing a variation of “Good girl” “You're doing such a good job for me” “That's it, baby. You did so good” flowed from his pink lips. You could never decide which throbbing to focus on, the one from your new piercing or the throbbing of your clit.

With three new holes in your body and damp panties, it was now time for the piercing both of you were dreading yet excited for.

“Do I just take my shirt off here?”

“Wherever you're comfortable, baby. You can go in the bathroom or stay in here and I'll give you some privacy” He felt like a teenage boy again. His dick twitching at the thought of seeing you exposed.

“No, it's okay you can stay in here I don't mind”

“Oh. Okay,” He perked up. Giving you some privacy he turned his back, pretending to be busy when in reality he was trying to think of anything but you getting undressed behind him. Despite his concentration, all he could focus on was the sound of your necklaces and bracelets clanking at the movements you made.

He knew your nipples were still hard, especially since he took advantage of the working AC and he wondered what your moans would sound like if he flicked his tounge repeatedly over the bud, or if he pinched them in front of the mirror while you begged him to fuck you as you pressed your ass against his hard-

“I'm ready” Your soft voice broke him from his thoughts.

If his self control was any less he'd have gotten on his knees to worship you. There you were. Looking everywhere but him, tits exposed. If it weren’t for the fact other men besides him would see, he'd tattoo this image of you on his bare forearm.

“Are you ready?” He suppressed a groan.

“Mhm”

“Okay stand up for me” He led you to the mirror where he prepped each bud. During the process, you felt as if you could crawl into yourself. The most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes on had his hands on your breast. Despite the occasion being nonsexual, you were convinced your arousal would start running down your thigh at any second.

“Is this okay?” He stood behind you.

You gave a simple hum of approval, thoughts gone as he explained how the process would go. You convinced yourself you could handle it, that it would all be over soon.

That was until he rolled the bud in between his fingers, the whimper you'd been holding escaping you.

‘fuck’ ‘fuck’

“Shit, I'm so sorry I- I didn't mean to do that, please understand I had no malicious intentions I just” He stumbled over his words.

He was just explaining the step by step process of the piercing. He wasn't thinking, just craving. He wouldn't have realized his actions if it weren't for the sound you let out. The sound he knew he'd replay in his head the moment you left the shop, stroking his cock as he imagined it were you down on your knees in front of him.

“It's okay” You reassured him. Your big eyes staring up into his through the mirror.

“I didn't…I don't mind”

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Before you knew it you were bouncing on his cock. His moans muffled as his mouth engulfed your breast. Tongue slightly grazing your nipple with the flickers of his tongue before sucking harshly.

He was stretching you out so good, leaky red tip repeatedly hitting your cervix as his frenum piercing brushed against your walls. The added pleasure contributing to the pace of your bounces as you chased your high.

“E-eren please” You whined, attempting to push his head away from the assault on your breast. His hair was everywhere, the ponytail holder long gone the moment your hands entangled in his hair. Your buds were so sensitive, every suck and swipe of his tongue had you squeezing around him, every clench releasing your cream that pooled at the base of his cock.

“Fuck” He groaned, reluctantly giving your boobs a break. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, groping the brown skin before placing a hard slap on your cheek.

“Talk to me, pretty. You like this? Like bouncing on daddy's cock hmm?” His arms wrapped around you tightly as he fucked up into you.

“Oh my- fuck” You gave him control. Your head resting on his shoulder as you let out pornographic moans into his ear.

“Answer me, mama” Another slap landed on your ass.

Before you had time to register the mix of pain and pleasure on your flesh, the gentle pressure of his finger rubbing circles on your puckering hole had you seeing stars.

“Fuck y-yes. I love it so much, daddy. Please don't stop” You whined. Tears of pleasure wetting the crook of his neck.

By no means was Eren a fast finisher but boy was he trying his best to hold on, you're pussy was just squeezing him so tight, the added tension on his scalp as you tugged on it every time he hit the spongy spot along your walls had his nails digging crescents into your skin.

“I'm so close, daddy, please”

“Let go mama” He pressed hot kisses along your neck and shoulder.

In that moment you came, your pussy tightening around the large girth of his cock. Clear liquid squirting from you in streams as he continued his thrust. Your arousal splashing and dripping onto the chair.

With sweat dripping down his forehead, and stray hairs sticking to him, his thrust became sloppy and his breathing became heavier.

“S-shit” He whimpered, head thrown back as he came harder than ever. Repeatedly pushing his load back into your pussy.

“Lemme take you on a date. Please” He panted once you both came down, his hands roaming your body as he looked down at you, green irises peeking out behind his blown pupils.

“Okay, yea- oh” A broken moan escaped you as he moved your hips up and down his length once again.

“Eren” You whined

“Don't tell me you're wiped out after one round, pretty girl. I know you have more in you, mama. Be a good girl for daddy”

for my eren girlies. this is probably the fastest I've ever wrote bc i just needed peircer eren. oh also how do yall feel about pegging bc i feel peircer eren can be a bit subby sometimes ttm. mwah <3

pt.2 wit the pegging ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶꒱ྀི১

[mrpenguinpants]

You are all I long for, all I worship, and adore.

— It's strange seeing your future selves being so close when you thought you both hated each other guts.

— Jing Yuan, Dan Feng (& Dan Heng) + Sunday

[Masterlist]

Suspend your disbelief for the timeline of lore, please.

Update: When I originally wrote this, I wanted to do an entire "Fly Me to the Moon," series of fics based on time travel. Hence the title. Shout-out to that one person who was waiting for me to write Sunday. I didn't, but I see you. It will happen soon.

Jing Yuan

This is the worst. The absolute worst thing ever. In the entirety of your living long life, this is the absolute worst moment so far. Were all the good times leading up to this moment? Did the Aeon's have some sick agenda, or were you randomly selected to be messed with today? If you had the option of eating literal trash bags for the rest of your life or continuing to live in this moment, you'd rather chew your own arms off. Maybe if you start now, you can save your future self the pain and humiliation of succumbing to...whatever this is.

"Aw, you were so cute when you were younger,” you - at least you think it’s you. This stranger wears the same face as you although a bit older. Perhaps alien would be a more fitting name? - this stranger coos as they cup Jing Yuan's face in their hands. Pinching cheeks with barely any fat on them with the sweetest smile you never knew you could even make. Jing Yuan, one of the seven Arbiter-Generals of the Xianzhou Alliance's Cloud Knights who stared down an actual Lord Ravager, looks two seconds away from bolting like a scared cat. He hasn’t moved an inch since this started and honestly, as mortifying as this is, it’s way worse for him than it is for you. So naturally, you’re turning a blind eye and holding Yangqing hostage from saving his precious general of sweet words and praises.

”I see we didn’t get along at this point in time,” a deep voice muses above you from a man you’re very blatantly pretending to ignore. An older Jing Yuan stands beside you, amused at his younger self having a barely contained stroke. If it wasn't bad enough that a future version of yourself suddenly appeared, Jing Yuan just had to follow. Always a nuisance no matter his age. Maybe if you hold your breath, you’ll pass out and everything will blow over. It sounds less painful than trying to eat yourself from the outside in any way. Before you can start, a hand, heavy yet somehow gentle, is placed on your shoulder. “I don’t recommend trying to self-induce a suffocation. Nor attempt any cannibalism on the self either.”

Okay. That’s creepy. Do senior citizens suddenly gain mind-reading powers? You’ve heard the story that if a man stays a virgin until he’s 30, he'll become a wizard. You let out a huff of amusement at that thought, maybe that’s what’s happening. That amusement gets cut short when you realize that somehow, you fell for this 30-year-old virgin. You refuse to accept that out of spite. That story was meant for short-life species anyway.

“For all intensive purposes, I’m choosing to believe this is a nightmare and the first step to waking up from one is to induce pain,” you answer blandly, your grip on Yanqing finally waning as the boy sprints in for the rescue. Only to get swept up in the storm as your other self switches her attention to the kid. Sticky fingers and starry eyes have Yanqing disarmed before he can even lift a finger to summon his ice sword, falling prey to the musing of a Xianzhou auntie. Nevertheless, Yanqing does his job correctly because it allows Jing Yuan to finally escape as he stumbles over to you and his other self.

"How far the mighty have fallen," you snicker behind your hand at how ruffled Jing Yuan looks. His hair is a bit fluffy from how many times your future self ran their hands through it, and his cheeks are a bit pink. Probably from all the pinching. There's even a deep chuckle next to you to accompany your words as Jing Yuan coughs into his fist before straightening up properly. You can see Yanqing being given sweets behind his back and that alone buys the kids complacency.

"My apologies for that," Jing Yuan says as the older Jing Yuan simply laughs in response. Unserious and unfretted in everything.

Huh, now that you look closer. He has laugh lines.

"It is I that should apologize. We have disturbed your schedule with our, ahem, compliments," Other Jing Yuan chuckles once again, as if the fact that he has time traveled into the past was a small "disturbance". Aeons, you hate this guy in every form.

They go back and forth, talking in that faux politeness that never truly goes anywhere before you finally had enough of this. You're not sticking around for this tea-time pleasantries any longer than you need to. It's the exact reason why you left your position as the "Divine Foresight Counselor" and passed it off to Qingzu as soon as you could. Unfortunately, you're going up against two Jing Yuan's, so the moment you shift your shoe to take a step back to remove yourself from the conversation, two pairs of golden eyes snap to you. One is smiling, the other is frowning.

"Heading off?"

"Where are you going?"

You look between the two, older and younger, and you can feel your head beginning to hurt. You let out a sigh, rubbing your forehead, before ultimately picking the lesser of two evils. If you have to look into those love-stricken soft eyes one more time, you might actually pass away.

"Out. You don't need me here anymore do you, General? Or do I require your dismissal now?" you ask bluntly, turning to the Jing Yuan you're used to. The one who's supposed to be in this timeline. "If you need anything, I'm sure Diviner Fu would love to be of assistance."

You don't bother to wait for Jing Yuan to say anything, pivoting on your heel and marching out of the Exalting Sanctum. You glance at your other self, a bitter feeling rising in your chest when they look at you disapprovingly. You can tell they want to say something but one brief look to the side, where the two Jing Yuans stand, and they close their mouth and turn around. Regardless, there's no reason for you to stick around longer. As long as the time travelers stay within the exalting sanctum, no one will know they ever appeared in the first place.

As you near the exiting doors, nodding to the guards on each side, you spare one last glance back. Your sudden departure hasn't halted anything and Jing Yuan is speaking to both his other self and you. Yanqing huddles close, one of his hands in your other self's hand, as he tries his best to participate in the discussion. Realistically, you should set aside your petty pride and march back to help. Do something other than running away and letting everyone else pick up the pieces for you. But the doors are already open and you need a sweet drink desperately.

There's been a growing sour taste on your tongue every time your Jing Yuan stares longingly at the other you.

Dan Feng

There isn't a single word to describe the situation you're in right now. Strange? Uncanny? Just super weird? You've seen and done a lot of weird things in your long life, but this is the absolute weirdest thing that has ever happened to you - and you've seen a star collapse before.

“If you keep making that expression, it’ll stick on your face,” Jing Yuan muffles his laugh under his hand, keeping up with your brisk pace as you not-so-subtly run away from the situation thrust into your hands. A tactical retreat you call it. You give Jing Yuan a pained grimace for a brief second before focusing straight ahead again.

“Jing Yuan, I will make sure your promotion to General is riddled with paperwork,” you say straight-faced. He knows you’re lying, you adore your pseudo-nephew too much to do that to him, but it does make him jolt and respectfully keep his mouth shut. However, in exchange, it makes the third pair of footsteps all the more louder. The source of your current predicament and Jing Yuan's amusement. You peer over your shoulder at the young man just to make absolutely sure that you're not hallucinating. A tall, slender young man with blue eyes, fair skin, and black hair stares right back at you before quickly averting his gaze back to the ground. Even with his unique coat and clothing, he has the splitting image of that old lizard. Even though this stranger is younger...and without a stick up his ass either.

He said his name was Dan Heng. A "traveling guard" for the renowned Astral Express. He had sworn on his life that he was telling the truth but that didn't change the fact of who he looked like. If Jing Yuan hadn't been there to vouch for him, then you would have attempted to throw him off the Luofu yourself. According to Jing Yuan, he found the young man "asleep" under one of the ginkgo trees, but otherwise wasn't doing any harm to anyone. He had just appeared with no way to return to where he came from.

At least you have one thing in common: you both don’t want to be here.

"So, are you a distant relative? Is this your first time visiting the Luofu? Oh! Are you here to visit him for vidyadhara business?" Jing Yuan spitballs one question after the other, his barely contained excitement shining through. He had slowed his pace to walk side-by-side with Dan Heng, illustrating the differences between them. Jing Yuan barely reaches Dan Heng's waist, the standard cloud knight uniform looking plain compared to the other's elaborate coat. Teal clashing with blue. Although, they match in their one red accessory flapping in the wind.

Dan Heng awkwardly coughs into his hand, before giving Jing Yuan a rather embarrassed look, "I don't think it'd be wise for me to say anything. If you have any questions, you should ask my teacher..."

Dan Heng shoots you a look as he says the word 'teacher', to which you raise an eyebrow right back. You've never seen this specific man in your life, let alone taken on any students. You don't even like kids that much unless their name is Jing Yuan and even, he isn't fully nestled in your heart. But that's another weird thing about this whole situation. This mysterious "teacher" apparently came along for the ride, yet the man won't spare a single detail about them. Vague descriptions that could be for anyone but wouldn't be a definite confirmation. All in all, it's been a headache and not something you wished to do on a bright and sunny morning. It's frankly out of your pay grade to be babysitting wandering travelers, even if they look like the High Elder.

“We’re here,” you call out, abruptly stopping your near sprint as you feel two bodies collide into your back. One has the decency to step back with an apology while the other clings to your arm as he peers around your waist.

"The forge?" Jing Yuan questions, tilting his head almost fully sideways as the three of you look up at the unassuming blacksmith shop.

"Yep, we're visiting the only adult of the group. Come on, Yingxing should still be inside," you say eyes forward but your arm reaches behind you to hold onto the retreating body of Dan Heng, who has been quietly trying to step away as soon as you confirmed just where you were. Jokes on him, you're the master of running away from your problems- retreating. You're the master at tactical retreating.

Although it’s muffled, you can hear some commotion going on inside. Maybe an unruly customer who didn’t read the fine print and is now venting their frustration? You share a look of confusion with Jing Yuan as you strong-arm Dan Heng into coming inside.

Entering the store, it looks relatively normal? There's nothing out of place or anything to show there was a scuffle, but the argument is getting louder sounding from the back of the store, into the forge. Which is strange for two reasons. Firstly, Yingxing may not be a dragon but he guards the forge with his life. Secondly, the only other people allowed in aren't even in the area. A mutual understanding passes through the three of you, Dan Heng finally giving up on trying to escape with the death grip you have on his arm, and you all tip-toe to the back door. Jing Yuan being the smallest reaches the door first, his head peeking out, your head above his as you squint into the room, and Dan Heng above yours with a look of defeat.

“You selfish old lizard! I’d outta cut your tail off right now for all the trouble you caused you senile son of a-“

"Please calm down, this is still the High Elder you're speaking to!"

What you see is something you'd never expect to see, and you need to reiterate that you've seen a literal star collapse. An older version of you is being held back by Yingxing as they throw threats and cusses at Dan Feng, who looks relatively unbothered by the promises to maim him.

“Teacher!”

Dan Heng, who has kept the most monotone voice imaginable since meeting him, suddenly pushes himself forward. A small "ah!" comes from Jing Yuan as he flops onto the floor from the sudden movement. A spear you've definitely seen before materializes in his hand as he goes to swing at Yingxing, only to be parried away by an identical spear. If you thought the tension between your first meeting with Dan Heng was rough, this feels like the Aeons themselves are fighting against each other. Yingxing and the other you have gone slack in surprise as two vidyadhara's who share the same face are kept at a standstill. Two cloud piercers pointed at each other, poised and ready to strike again, the air growing more humid with sticky beads of water vapor suspended in the air. Well, if you had any doubts about Dan Heng looking way too similar to Dan Feng, this pretty much confirms it. They're the same person.

Your eyes slide to the other you.

A falling star has nothing on this.

Sunday

There's something off about this entire situation, and there are enough oddities to begin with, but there's just something that doesn't sit right with you. Was there such a thing as a second puberty? Is that what a "mid-life" crisis was? Aren't you supposed to dye your hair and buy a sports car when that happens? Because the person walking next to you is certainly not you. They're too...peppy.

When you first saw the "future you", you had assumed they were a figment of someone's imagination. A dream perhaps? In Penacony, it would definitely be possible, but who would want to dream of you? The other you didn't seem that weird either, just a bit older and more well-mannered, but otherwise exactly the same. They had greeted you cheerfully, even coming up to shake your hand because "it was the polite thing to do when greeting friends.". You didn't know how to react to that wording so you brushed it aside. Maybe in the future, you're some big shot? That's kind of exciting to imagine.

"So...any idea how you got here?" you ask, turning to the other you. It's kind of funny that you're escorting yourself but you doubt the future you remember's the winding pathways the Bloodhounds take to the main base. Although your boss is quite nonchalant, Gallagher has always had a steady head on his shoulders. If you can't figure out a way to fix this time travel business, he can at least play damage control.

"I'm not entirely sure. I was about to set out to welcome some new friends on behalf of my husband, and then I was suddenly here. Oh, I hope he isn't upset with me for disappearing," your other self hums, a hand on their cheek, before quickly jolting up, "Ah, I guess I should say our husband now."

You let out an awkward laugh to match their giggle. Although your future self doesn't look that much older than you, it seems you managed to get hitched with someone great. They always seem to slip the word "husband" into every sentence, heck- you're making new friends because of him. Your mother would weep tears of joy learning that fact. Although it does make you curious just who your supposed husband is. The only man you see more than once in your life is Gallagher, and respectfully, he's not your type. But then who else? Perhaps one of the patrons? You've heard the news that the IPC sent a handsome gambler with beautiful eyes. Perhaps that's who you've fallen in love with? You don't want to ask because you don't want to mess up the timeline and frankly, you don't want to ruin the surprise. To be honest, even though you never thought about marriage, it kinda makes you giddy knowing that in the future, you seem to love your husband so much. A bit too much but it's probably the honeymoon phase train never stopping.

You still can't help but shake the feeling that something is horribly wrong.

There's just the slightest sinister curl in their smile. As if they're secretly laughing at the expense of everyone while keeping on an angelic facade. It's unsettling and makes chills down go your spine when it's your face that does it. The only time you've felt this sense of unease was when you accidentally stumbled into Gallagher's private meeting with the Head of the Oak Family. The Halovian had simply smiled, inquiring who you were and holding his hand out for you to shake. Your fingers had just brushed against his white glove when Gallagher stepped in, gripping your wrist hard enough for bruises, and forcibly pushed you out the door.

"Someone not important."

That's what your boss had said. You thought he spoke so harshly because he was pissed at you for possibly giving the Oak Family a bad first impression. He pretended it never happened and you never brought it up, afraid he might fire you from your job.

"I don't mean to pry, but are you alright?"

You blink, shaken out of your thoughts by your future self's question. They smile at you kindly, a slight tilt to their head as they wait for you to answer patiently.

"Oh! Sorry, I kinda spaced out there for a bit..." You let out an awkward laugh. Your voice sounds weak even to you, but the other you just nods in understanding. Perhaps it's because it's technically you that you're talking to, or that feeling of foreboding, that you feel like you need to explain yourself, "I guess I haven't been sleeping well. Gallagher has me running errands on the other side of Penacony in preparation for the Charmony Festival. Between you and me, I think he's dumping his errands on me so he can slack off."

Your lighthearted chuckle tapers off when the other you doesn't respond in kind to your joke. In fact, bringing up Gallagher's name has completely cleared their face from that prim and proper mask. Leaving behind a blank expression with disinterested eyes before a blink, and there's that same smile smeared on.

"You speak rather fondly of him. It seems I'm farther into the past than I originally thought," they mumble to themselves. Although you pick up on the words easily, you double-take just to make absolutely sure those words came from them. Sure, Gallagher isn't the most traditional-looking boss but he's not a bad person. Especially not to you. When you were looking for a job, he was the one to approach you out of the blue to work under him as a Bloodhound. If he never showed up, you would have most likely wasted away as a paper pusher for one of the families. He's always forgiven your mistakes and always offered to escort you home even though you can take care of yourself. So why is your future self so unfriendly to someone you currently hold in high regard?

"Oh uh...did something happen between us and Gallagher? I mean, I always suspected I'd get fired but I don't know, I always thought we got along. I mean, he has been acting a bit weird since that Oak Family Head came around but he's probably just stressed, right? Oh wait- I don't think we should be talking about this. I don't want to start a butterfly effect, especially so close to the festival-" you muse only to get interrupted.

"If I were you, I wouldn't trust that dog so easily," your other self spits with so much venom that you take a step away. Is it possible that you misjudged how close you were with Gallagher? Your other self talks about him as if he had betrayed them on a personal level. This shouldn't be possible because you and Gallagher have a strictly professional relationship. Unless you potentially knew him before you arrived in Penacony? To be fair, your memory gets a bit hazy looking back but you're sure you would remember someone like Gallagher.

"Wha- Hey, I don't know what happened but you shouldn't call him a dog-"

"We're here."

You stop in your tracks. What? We're here? You look up and realize that you've completely walked off the beaten path and happened upon a door. In fact, if you remember correctly, this was the door you stumbled into when you first met that Halovian. When did it become your other self escorting you rather than the other way around? You thought they wouldn't know these back alley pathways anymore.

"Why are we here?" you ask tentatively. Realistically, you know nothing bad will happen to you, at least not physically. You're their past. Whatever happens to you will affect them. A small scrape here will become a scar for them later.

"You haven't been sleeping well correct? I remember when I used to have headaches all the time. But you'll be okay now, he'll make things all better. While it's a bit early, I'm sure you'll understand. You are me after all," they smile sweetly, taking your hand in theirs as they pull you in front of the door.

"Come now, let's go meet our husband. He's been eagerly waiting for you for a long time."

---

Small author's note: I fell into a pit and wrote way too much. If I didn't cut it off, this fic would take another year to finish. That's why there's no real ending, lol.

[heart-eyed-love]

Love is Embarrassing

Summary | You and Eddie embarrass yourselves in front of each other a lot, but that’s okay, it only seems to make your relationship stronger

Contains | Fem!Reader, Established Relationship, Embarrassing Moments, Cursing

Word Count | 1.8k

Currently, You, Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant, all stand outside the fence surrounding one of the abandoned houses in Hawkins. It’s not a very tall one, but it did slightly ease you, putting distance between you and the sketchy house.

“Do you guys really think this is a smart idea?” Jeff asks, looking over to you and the boys.

“No, actually. I think this is really fucking stupid.” You answer in return, agreeing with Jeff on the fact that this wasn’t the one of the smartest ideas your boyfriend has had. You’re not entirely sure what good could come from this.

“It’ll be fine… It’ll be fun.” Eddie reassured you, lightly putting his hand on your shoulder and giving it an affectionate rub. You only side eye him.

Grant is already making his way closer to the fence when he asks, “Who’s going first?” And when no one answers you narrow your eyes at your boyfriend.

“Wasn’t this your idea?” You ask

He rolls his eyes, “Fine, whatever…” He approaches the fence. And in an attempt to impress, he begins climbing over the fence with ease. Trying to be all slick and suave about it, he’s about to jump off the fence, and be successfully on the other side. But once he does, his jeans catch on the fence… and they rip.

And you cringe once he’s back on the ground, having unfortunately ripped his go-to jeans. His face falls immediately when he notices, but the boys behind you are giggling.

“Dude…” Is all Jeff mutters out between giggles, but Gareth has always been one to make it worse.

“Are those Bats?!” He’s now cackling at his boxers, and even though Eddie's glare would usually make him shut up, the fence between them has made him brave.

“Shut up.” he doesn’t dare look at you yet, cheeks aflame. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, so you’re not sure why he’s so flustered.

“Maybe it’s a sign.” You shrug your shoulders, looking over to your boyfriend, who’s now currently trying to get a better view of his ass, trying to make the rip less noticeable.

Without looking up at you he says, “We’re going in.” You roll your eyes and make sure way over to the fence. Climbing up carefully as to not be in the same predicament as Eddie. He holds his hands out for you, helping you get down safely.

“Let me see…” You say, now that you can get a better look, hand on his back to turn him so you can see. The other boys begin climbing over the fence as Eddie lets you examine the rip in his pants.

“Is it fixable?” He asks softly.

“Oh, Yeah. We’ll have these fixed right up…” You pat his shoulder, “But for now…” You place your hand on his ass right over the rip with a smirk, “This will have to do…”

Last night was the first night sleeping over at your boyfriend's house. It was a domestic night of bliss, dinner was eaten at the table together, skin care was done, and you both brushed your teeth as you looked at each other through the mirror with a smile.

It was perfect, and the night was concluded by snuggling into his side, head resting on his chest as you both passed out, faster than you ever had. It felt right.

But the next morning was a different story.

You were woken by a soft shake to your shoulder, with eyes scrunched almost closed, you lifted your head from Eddie's chest and felt a stickiness on your cheek. Cracking your eyes a bit more open you’re able to see a wet patch on his shirt. You now know what the stickiness was as you violently tried to wipe the embarrassment off your cheek, then the same to the patch of drool on his chest.

“Shit, I’m so sorry…” You grumble, and Edide can’t help but smile at the pleasant sound of your morning voice.

“No, don’t worry about it, I just was wondering if you were hungry? I thought I could go get some breakfast…?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice…” You say softly, cheeks a little flushed.

“K, let’s go get dressed and brush our teeth and get rid of that morning breath.” He says with a smile, and your eyes go wide and to your mouth in an instant.

“Oh my god.” You whine out turning away from him, and he chuckles, following right behind. Pushing himself up against your back.

“Hey! Don’t be embarrassed, at least it’s not as bad as mine…” He says, lifting himself onto his elbow to get a better advantage on you as he begins blowing his breath into your face. You can’t help but giggle as you squirm away, cause yeah, at least it’s not as bad as that.

“Eddie, stop!” You now move your hand to cover your nose, a smile evident on your face now.

“Let’s go brush our rats' nests out and our morning breath away together, Baby…” He smiles cheekily as he takes your hand to pull you up with him, as he attempts to rake his other through your hair.

He then leans in to try and kiss you, and you pull away with a scrunch of your nose, “Is that really a good idea right now?” You tease.

“I can’t think of a better one.” Giving you the sloppiest kiss you had the honor of receiving.

You and Eddie had been in his bedroom when he acted upon his urges. He always thought it was so much fun to wrestle and play around with you, and he was happy to find out you had just as much fun.

But today, he took it to another level. An unfair level.

He had you pinned down on the bed, and he was tickling you relentlessly. And after having a pretty fulfilling dinner that wasn’t really going well with your stomach.

Giggling as you beg him to stop, losing your breath as he continues, the unfortunate happens. And a small fart escapes you.

You freeze under him, and he’s frozen too as he hovers over you. You can only imagine the shade of your face as Eddie stares down at you. He’s not even laughing, honestly that would feel better than the intense staring he seems to be doing right now.

Wanting to get out of this vulnerable and embarrassing position faster you sit up quickly and shove him off of you.

He’s falling onto his butt on the bed, with a slightly offended, “Hey!” And he’s pushing you back down so he’s on top of you again, moving down to kiss you fiercely.

He pulls away with a teasing smirk, “That was your first fart with me, Babe. Feel proud.”

You roll your eyes, but feel the blush rising to your cheeks again, and he’s leaning back down to kiss you again.

Tonight was special. Usually when Eddie invited you to his shows it consisted of his band playing covers of they’re favorite artists and bands. Lately, they’d been feeling bold enough to start playing some of Corroded Coffin's originals.

Those were your favorites.

But tonight Eddie wanted to do something special for you.

He had made the guys practice ‘Head Over Heals’, he knew it was your favorite. He hoped you’d think this was a romantic gesture, cause he’d never play such a song for anyone else.

He was putting his metalhead dignity on the line for you.

The guys had tried to tease him about it, but he was quick to remind them that he was the only one who actually has a girlfriend and that shut them up pretty quick.

That Tuesday as he saw you sat in the record breaking crowd of 10 drunks, he felt his nerves start getting the best of him. There was a small pit in his stomach at the thought of making a fool of himself.

And when he starts playing the song that has had him worked up since he started practicing it, his eyes find yours, widened and surprised. That doesn't help his nerves much as the first words he sings are slightly high and scratchy, and he cringes to himself slightly. Pulling himself together for most of the song, but unfortunately a few more voice cracks and off tone notes were sung.

After they had finished and went backstage, he plopped himself down on the rickety couch with a loud groan.

“That was totally shit man.” Gareth said as he made his way backstage too, earning a punch to the shoulder from Jeff, big eyes signaling him to shut up. But Eddie was feeling too distraught to give a single ounce of a shit about what Gareth thought.

“I think you sounded sweet…” Grant admits, trying to make him feel better.

“Yeah, don’t listen to Gareth, he’s a dipshit.” Jeff glares over at the boy.

Eddie, only wanting to be romantic for you, but who would swoon over a nervously high pitched, scratchy rendition of their favorite song?

He lets out a groan into his hands. “Eddie…?” A soft voice causes his head to snap up. There you stood, a sweet smile on your face, and he watched the other guy scramble out of the room as you approached the couch he was sitting on.

You sat yourself down next to him, so close, your bare thigh pressed to his denim clad one. “You sang my favorite song…?” At your words he looks over to you, and your eyes somehow are able to hold the most affection that's ever been directed to him. He knew you would never judge or make fun of him for something like that, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a humbling experience for him. “I thought you said you’d never stoop so low?” You smirk.

“Yeah well, look what that got me…” He scoffs and looks straight forward, and you can tell by his tone this might be a bit more serious.

“I thought it was great…”

“I sounded like an idiot.” He looks over to you.

“No, you didn’t. I thought you sounded sweet…”

“Sweet? I sounded tone deaf.”

“Well, we both know that you aren’t, I think you were just nervous, Eddie. But, just because it was a little pitchy doesn’t mean I didn’t think it was the best thing I’ve ever heard anyone sing.”

You’re smiling so sweetly at him, and he can’t help but chuckle, “Don’t be a suck up…”

“I’m not, like really, that was the sweetest and most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me. I loved it… I Love you…” You admit, feeling your own rush of nerves. It was the first time either of you had said it, but it felt fitting. He was vulnerable for you, you can be vulnerable for him.

He stares at you for a second too long, and you look away nervously, “Sorry, that was weird.” You say, but he vigorously shakes his head.

“No! No, it’s not weird… I just didn’t expect that shitty performance to pull an ‘I Love you’ from you…” He chuckles again, “I Love you too…” And he’s leaning in now, kissing your lips softly.

[starzblvd]

Pampering your girlfriend to a soothing bath after a rough day from summers scorching heat then letting her use your hand to get herself off <33

an: modern!ellie, college!ellie, gf!ellie, got this idea while doing my extra long everything shower which originally just started off as fluff but yk, was supposed to post this like 2 weeks ago but then I got slumped with other stuff..anyways Ellie refers to you as angel because I love the pet name so much 🩷

Disgustingly hot was what the temperature is around this time of summer. The heat suffocating you immediately after stepping outside. Ellie curses herself on the drive home when the ac of her red 1989 Ford F-250 decided to stop working on one of the summers hottest days. Hot weather called for a hot tempered Ellie, god it’s the afternoon and it’s still this fucking hot.

She’d walk out of her car with an angry pout of a scowl irritated of the stickiness the sweat induced during her drive home to your shared apartment. Ellie’s skin was covered in a glossy sheen when she’d reach the door, whole day she was stuck dealing with the blistering heat with her lecture halls ac coincidentally broke down too. If one thing were to piss her off in this state she’d be ready to pull a hissy fit. She knocked with urgency to get the relief of cold air, a minute passed and another knock perused, two more minutes and she’s calling out your name slightly banging the door. Ellie reaches for her key from her back pocket jamming the key in loudly when you unlock it before she does greeting her wearing an apologetic smile, “didn’t mean to keep you out, was just fixing a bath for you”

You’d known she was beat from how hot she was the entire day by the spam of texts complaining about everything and anything “I hate this chair it’s so uncomfortable” or “can he talk any fucking faster so we can leave”

Ellie couldn’t be mad when you’d been so sweet waiting for her to come back, letting her shoulders drop their stiff lock allowing you to walk her away the shutting door. “You didn’t have to do all that, im just glad to even get outside that godman place, seriously how do all ac’s suddenly get an idea to break down today,”

You’d notice the glowing gleam layer of sweat she walked in with, after she’s pulling you into her gentle embrace contrasting her tone and expression

“but thank you angel, always so sweet to me”

She was tired and so was her voice, raspier than her typical tone. Couldn’t just leave her in her own when she’s so drained,

“let me do the work for you today”

Ellie’s eyebrows lifted confused to what you’re suggesting but follows your trail nonetheless, as your girlfriend she trusts you.

“just sit down and I’ll bathe you, you know?” You take your seat on the edge of the tub looking at her with such an adoring expression she didn’t hesitate to strip and climb into the tub. Her hair was tied back in effort to combat the heat, you take out the hair tie allowing her hair to fall for you to use a container to pour water over her. A giggle escapes her lips when she shuts her eyes from the water.

She enjoyed how dotting you were to her, enjoyed with the way your fingers move in little circles on her scalp messaging in the lathering shampoo, the little kiss you placed on her forehead after rinsing the pine lavender scented conditioner out.

“We should do this more often, like way more often,” Ellie was completely aloof getting taken care of and content with how loving your touch was, almost made her feel a bit guilty for the idea that was looming over her now, almost. “Yeah?” It’d feel just as peaceful for you to care for her. Reaching over for the body wash Ellie’s hand grasps onto your wrist, wet with small bubbles mixed in from the shampoo.

“you wouldn’t mind for me to use your hand a bit would you angel?” Her voice was softer now, any pent up irritation had washed away by now, looking to you with her slight smirk, the same smirk that’d leave your stomach coiling itself up knowing she only had this look when she’d have another one of her ideas.

“Go ahead,”

Still puzzled she lowers your hand to the water guiding your hand to touch the toned muscles of her torso that stiffed with anticipation. Your touch never failed to excite her no matter how long you’ve been together. Noticing the limpness of your hand Ellie spoke up in type of whisper,

“you can tell me to stop”

Taking the hint of what she was insinuating you slowly shift your fingers open to glide your touch over her warm body,

“No no, I want to keep going,”

You’d coo with all the reassurance she needed. Dragging your hand further down, she caressed the sides of her lips with your finger tips feeling the shock it brung earning a small grunt from her slowly teasing her entrance. Spreading her legs further apart Ellie’s hand adjusted your middle and ring finger onto her exposed folds to start some friction easily sliding them up and down with the mix of her slick and water. All you’d hear was the slow sloshing of water and the small whimpers she muffled through her lips.

She kept her eyes closed concentrating on getting to her high using you. Ellie guides your fingers to soothe her puffy clit only being met with your resistance holding her back, instead to run your fingers anywhere else but her clit.

“thought you were supposed to be helping me,” Ellie let’s out grunting into your ear.

despite her efforts to move you onto her ache you keep prodding her folds, writhing from your neglectful touch, she was so needy for you every second you denied her a rub to give her the release she chased for.

“Thought I was the one supposed to be doing the work for you tonight.”

Ellie was growing tired of the lack of attention she was desperate for, she shoved the two fingers down plunging them inside her, her lips parted allowing her sweet moans to fill the room and your ears.

“we both know you could be doing a better job at that right now angel.”

She couldn’t help herself pushing you deeper into her to touch the spot that always had her unfolding below you. Making her hand jerk faster to pump your fingers quicker to speed up she’d be getting closer to the orgasm her body was pleading for.

“Since you’re so pretty like this I guess I can try harder,” you smiled looking at how the muscles of her arm flexed each time she’d move in and out, you keep your open hand busy by gently rubbing her shoulder whilst bringing your underwater thumb to her clit pressing into her before finally giving in and pacing it into circles.

“cmon cmon cmon, keep going angel please”

Begging and unraveling right before you with a final fast pump and stroke to her clit Ellie’s back straightened and curved into an all familiar arch. Her eyes harshly shutting closed but you wanted to see the eyes you loved so much, lifting the hand from her shoulder to her jaw pulling her face to yours, Ellie’s still wanning off her orgasm by drowning her pace down until she’s finally done sliding you out from herself.

She brought your hand back to surface embracing your hard working fingers with a kiss keeping her hold onto you as Ellie slides down into the tub to just the point where her neck starts.

“you can finish your job now,” she was smiling looking forward to the next time.

[sailoryooons]

Red | KNJ | (m)

☾ Pairing: Werewolf!Namjoon x f. reader

☾ Summary: For as long as you can remember, your village has been relatively normal. But when people begin to turn up dead right after a group of newcomers arrive, pieces of your past start to fall into place, and something feels familiar - particularly the quiet man who can't take his eyes off of you.

☾ Word Count: 21,148

☾ Genre: Supernatural, thriller, smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Fantasy violence, light depections of murder and animal attacks, mentions of gore, discussions about community displacement and violence, Yoongi is an asshole, animal attacks, depictions of blood, tbh reader and Namjoon don’t know each other THAT well when they fuck so idk, implied protecting from a far but not in a stalker way, explicit language, intense sequences of fear and anxiety, reader is attacked by a wolf, there is a mention of animals being hurt/killed but not in explicit details, dead bodies, arson, sexually explicit content invluding vaginal fingering, nipple play, vaginal penetration, a little bit of mention of fluids but not really. 

☾ Published: Sunday, January 21 2024

☾ A/N: I wish I could explain to you how this got to be so long. I wrote it over several weeks and each day I picked it back up, I just kept adding dialogue and scenery and setting. Like half of this isn’t even Namjoon and reader reacting - what was I doing? I wish I knew! I hope you like my spin on Red Riding Hood anyway! I tried to do this in a way that it doesn’t seem creepy that Namjoon was silently looking out for reader but like… I could understand if someone finds it creepy I am so sorry lmfao.  I did read through this to edit but I 100% missed stuff because I'm a rougher editor and this is unbeta'd.

☾ A/N 2: This is a Red Riding Hood Retelling that is similar in vibe to the 2011 Red Riding Hood movie directed by Catherine Hardwicke.

 Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Make Me Your Villain Collab | Taglist

Father always said not to go into the woods at night. Like him, though, the woods have always called to you, feeling like a second home. You’ve never been able to explain it, and you’ve stopped trying to. 

It’s a little chilly outside, the first breath of harvest air nipping at your skin. In a few weeks, it will be freezing outside, forcing you into cloaks and furs. 

Grass crunches beneath your feet as you slip through the small yard and toward the tree line. Your house already sits at the edge of the village, the dark trees stretching high above the rooftops. Soon the trees will be dusted in snow, but for now, they sway gently in the autumn breeze, turned silver by the moonlight. 

You’ve always loved the woods. The sounds of the crickets singing and rabbits dashing underfoot are calming, the smell of sticky pine and fresh air invigorating. You especially love them at night, hidden beneath boughs and walking through the shafts of moonlight that slip through the trees. 

The best part is that you don’t feel so alone out here. There is a feeling you cannot place each time you enter the woods, like you’re a little closer to discovering yourself. You’ve been chasing that feeling since you were a little girl, hungry for finding whatever it is that drives you out here. 

Hands tucked into your pockets, you walk the same route you always follow. It isn’t deep into the woods - you aren’t silly enough to believe you’re safe alone in the dark - but it’s enough of a walk to clear your head. 

Howls echo up into the night, a wolf pack on their hunt. The sound of them makes the hair on your arms stand on end.

The wolves don’t come very close to the village anymore since the vicious wolf hunts when you were barely old enough to remember them. The relationship between the men of your home and the wolves in the wood is violent, a chill cooling your skin every time they’re mentioned by one of your neighbors. 

A terrible howl splits the night. You feel your body go cold with fear, warmth leaching out of you as you press yourself against a tree, heart in your throat. The sound is something like a howl laced with utter anguish, chilling you down to the marrow. It tapers off into a whimper before falling silent again. 

Pressed against the tree, you wait. Your heart is beating so harshly that it feels like you might vomit in fear. Soft whimpering drifts on the wind. You hold your breath and strain your ears. It almost sounds like an injured dog.

It tugs at your heartstrings. You bite your lip, weighing your options. The noise sounded like it came from the south a little off of your path and toward the ravine that splits the part of the woods that is relatively safe from the deeper part where the animals are more lethal and more frequent. You could easily find your way back if you made it to the ravine, and as the whimpering vanishes entirely, you can’t help but imagine an animal in pain. 

The most difficult part about working with Dr. Kim at the veterinary clinic is always the animals that he can’t fix. You’ve held the hands of loved ones who couldn’t save their aging dogs, and you’ve hushed lame horses as Dr. Kim prepared draughts to send them to sleep and then to death. 

Pivoting, you turn and march toward the initial sound. It may perhaps be the single worst idea you’ve ever had, but you suddenly don’t care. You’ve worked with Dr. Kim enough to know how to triage animal wounds, and the thought of leaving something alone and suffering replaces any sort of fear you originally had. 

You’re careful not to lose your footing as the ground slopes steadily as you get closer to the ravines and canyons of the south side. Leaves shift underneath your feet as you go. It feels overly loud in a forest that is suddenly so quiet, only filled with the softest sound of labored breathing.

A small dip in the ground catches you off guard. You gasp, a scream stuck in your throat as you lose your footing and slide down the slope, your back and ass hitting the ground hard as you slide, leaves hissing underneath you. You scramble to grab a hold of something, but the hill isn’t very high and you hit the bottom of it quickly.

Heart pounding, you lay in the damp leaves for a second, panting, hand pressed to your heart as it rattles under your palm. Just as the fear settles down, a growl makes your blood run cold. Slowly, you begin to turn your face toward the left. You realize you’ve slid down a dell, and a few yards from you is a large, shivering form covered in fur.

You blink. Once. Twice. You realize that the large mound of fur is a creature - a wolf. It lays on the ground shaking, a ride of jet black hair standing up on its spine, hackles raised. The wolf’s ears are pinned back and its yellow eyes are wild, nearly consumed by the dark pupils drinking you in. Its teeth are bared, foam and drool lining pink gums as it snares, nose twitching. 

It’s the biggest wolf you’ve ever seen. You can’t move. You can only stare at it, wondering why it continues to snarl and stare at you, but not move. Your eyes rove its trembling form from maw to tail, and you realize its front leg is wet and held at an odd angle.

“Oh,” you gasp, realizing that the wolf’s foot is stuck in a claw trap. “I’m so sorry. I… can I help you?”

The wolf stops growling for a moment as if it understands. You stare with wide eyes, not daring to move as it assesses you. It leans toward you and sniffs, the sound of snuffing loud in the silence of the dell. For a few moments, you just watch as the beast regards you. 

Then, it chuffs and looks at its own foot, whining. You sit up slowly in amazement. The creature watches you with what you can only describe as a caution. You get up carefully and make your way toward the wolf. It watches your every movement. It can surely smell your fear as you get a few feet away, crouching down with your hands held out to let it know you’re not going to cause harm. 

You pause, waiting for permission to examine the wolf’s foot. It gazes at you and for a moment, you lose yourself in that burning, golden gaze. The wolf’s eyes are so human that it’s hard to see it as a simple beast. There is something alive and intelligent there.

As if sensing that you’re waiting for the all-clear, the wolf chuffs and lowers its head toward its foot, gesturing. You smile a little at that, marveling at the communication skills. Carefully, you look at the trap around the wolf’s foot. It’s a metal contraption that is pressure-engaged, with metal teeth. You cringe seeing the red on matted fur and metal.

“You must have stepped on the pressure plate,” you tell the wolf, though it probably doesn’t understand. You gesture to the round plate at the center of the trap. “It would have been in a circle and when stepped on, snapped closed like jaws.”

The wolf whines and bows its head. You wince. “They’re really strong,” you admit, chewing on your lip. “I don’t think I can pull it apart all the way, but I might be able to open it enough just for a moment for you to pull out your leg. Can you do that?” 

A huff. Somehow, you think if it could, the wolf might roll its eyes. Your mouth twitches in an almost smile as you get onto your knees, wiping sweaty hands on your pants. This close to the beast, you realize just how large it is. 

“This is going to hurt,” you insist. “Please… Please don’t bite me, okay? I want to help you.” 

The wolf lowers its head until it's lying on the ground, gold eyes watching you. Its muscles are tense and the hair along the ridge of its back is still standing, afraid and alert. 

“Okay. I’m just… I’m just going to touch the trap and try to get a grip first, okay?” The wolf doesn’t answer. It blinks at you, waiting. Licking your lips, you whisper, more to yourself than anything, “Okay, I can do this.”

Slowly, you reach out toward the wolf’s injured foot. You flick your gaze over to the wolf looking for a reaction. It just watches you, though you feel tension. The metal is wicked cold to the touch. You hiss and the creature flinches a little, a whistle-whine escaping its nose. You mutter an apology, fingers pressing to the ridges of the cold metal. 

It’s slippery with blood. You chew on your lip, prodding your finger in the space between the metal teeth on the edges where it’s not clamped around the wolf’s paw. You wiggle your finger a little, testing the strength of the closed jaws of the trap. It doesn’t budge and you curse. 

Sweat beads on the back of your neck, freezing in the cool air. You lift your other hand, very carefully trying to find a good grip on either side of the jaws to pry them open. The movement jostles the trap a little, the wolf snarling in pain. You flinch and rip your hands away, looking at it. Gold eyes burn and the wolf huffs, as though telling you to be more careful.

“Sorry,” you mutter. “I’m nervous and it’s hard to get a grip on it.” The wolf snorts. You glare at it. “I’m sorry, do you want to do this instead?” Your only answer is a rumble as it looks the other direction. “That’s what I thought.”

Sighing, you turn your attention back to the metal. Anyone a little stronger and older could probably pull it open. Seokjin for sure could - even Hoseok who is as old as you are, but plenty stronger. You try not to think about how weak you are, and instead wiggle your fingers through the gaps in the teeth.

The cool metal stings your hands. It’s not a great grip and your fingers are placed in bad positioning due to the teeth of the trap. Taking in a big breath, you try to pull the metal jaws apart. 

Nothing happens and you let your breath out, panting lightly as you stop trying to pull. The wolf flicks its tale but makes no other sound. With the way you’re gripping the jaws, you realize that pulling it apart is going to be difficult. It would rely on your forearms to peel the metal jaws backward… But if you were to push down and push apart, you could use your body weight as an extra boost. It would be pushing the jaws apart from above instead of trying to pry them apart with sheer strength.

Leaning high on your knees, you position yourself straight over the trap, your weight settling in on your forearms. You take another deep breath and this time when you pull, you push your weight down on the trap. For a second, it seems like it’s not going to give. You hiss through your teeth, muscles clenching, fingers burning as your skin presses against the metal as hard as you can stand it.

Then, the jaw opens a little. You grind your teeth harder, the ache in your arms growing as you push as hard as you can. Your forearms are trembling. You feel the vein throbbing in your neck and forehead. Just when you think you’re going to fail, the jaws give way again. You growl, feeling a surge of energy go through you at the small victory and you shove your body weight down on it hard. The springs creak a little and open more.

Little by little, the trap opens up. Your vision pulses red as you pant, strength waning. And then it’s like you hit the let-off point of the contraption, pushing it enough that the rest of the way it just falls open. You let go of the trap and the wolf yanks its leg from it. It now lies open and bloody as you collapse on the ground next to it, breathing hard, breath misting the air. 

Your heart beats in your ears, pulse thrumming in your neck wildly. For a second, you forget all about the wolf. You laugh up to the dark trees, a giddy feeling shooting through you. You did it, even though you didn’t think you would be able to. 

A dark presence alerts you. Slowly, you turn your head to face the wolf. It’s standing almost above you, looking more imposing than it did before. You swallow hard, mouth going dry as it blinks down at you. It favors the injured leg, but stands nonetheless, watching you. 

“Please don’t kill me,” you whisper, limbs trembling not only with exhaustion but fear. 

The wolf doesn’t kill you at all. Instead, it leans its head down and presses its cold, wet nose to your arm. You flinch, squeezing your eyes shut for a minute. Then the beast chuffs, making you peak at it. When you meet its gold eyes, you get the sense it is vaguely amused.

“Oh,” you breathe, relief sagging your aching body. “Cool. You’re not going to kill me.”

Standing, you realize that the wolf is still taller than you. You tilt your head upward, staring. There’s no way this is a normal creature, but you don’t know what else it could possibly be. You recall the legends of werewolves and dire wolves told by the men of your town, but you’re unsure if those are real. 

“Let’s take care of this,” you mutter, grabbing a branch and jamming it into the pressure plate of the trap. It snaps shut with a loud clang, snapping the branch, but otherwise ineffective now that it’s re-sprung. The wolf flinches and whines at the sound, no doubt remembering the feeling of the instrument on its leg. “Sorry.” 

Silence stretches out over the woods, the night growing deeper and cooler. You shiver, rubbing your hands up and down your arms as you turn to the wolf, which watches you keenly. 

“Will you be okay?” the question comes out as a whisper. The wolf huffs and steps forward, pressing its snout to your head. It’s cold and wet, making you shiver as it snuffs against your skin. “Good. I um - should start climbing this hill.”

It swivels its head and turns, waiting. You grin, realizing it will accompany you back up, at least. Though injured, the wolf is able to walk with three legs, the wounded leg lifted off the ground. Its gait is awkward and hobbled, but the two of you make it up the hill together, your breathing labored. 

At the top, moonlight shines through the trees and you both pause. A series of howls goes up in the night, startling you. The wolf looks up, ears twitching as it tilts its head, listening. Slowly, it turns to look at you, gold eyes sparkling. 

“I guess you have to go, huh?” it bows its head once. “Stay safe, okay?” 

The wolf steps forward. Presses its muzzle into your temple and huffs, making you grin. You smell pine and bergamot, pleasant and calming. “Yeah, you’re welcome.” 

Slowly, the wolf clambours off, vanishing into the dark woods, leaving you to hurry home yourself. 

-

“Wear this at all times for protection, especially in the forest,” you murmur, holding the neatly scrawled note. You frown and look down at the fine cloak folded on the dresser. It had appeared overnight as if by magic, a funny feeling flipping your stomach. “Where did you come from?”

The cloak, of course, has no answer. You lift your hand to feel it, breathing out a dreamy sigh. The inside is lined with soft bear fur. Outside is some of the finest cloth you’ve ever seen, gentle but sturdy to the touch and dyed the most delicious shade of scarlet. 

Carefully, you lift the cloak. It’s a little big for your size, but not unwearable. You slip it over your sleeping gown, loving the way the material ripples like blood over your shoulders, the fur lining keeping you warm. It smells like pine and bergamot, making you pause. 

Certainly, a wolf did not bring you a cloak. Still, the timing is quite odd. You don’t know who else could possibly make a cloak so fine in the village, and the smell… you shake your head. A wolf did not bring you a cloak, but it did seem perhaps you had a secret admirer. 

-

THIRTEEN YEARS LATER

“Boo!” You scream and drop the collection of logs in your hands, whirling around. Hoseok bursts into laughter, doubling over as he slaps his hands against his knees, hot breath misting the air. “You should see your face!”

“You rotten bastard!” You growl, picking up a log and throwing it at him. It doesn’t hit him, but he jumps away from it anyway, careful not to let it drop on his toes. “That isn’t funny!”

“It’s a little funny.”

“It’s not!” You crouch down and start picking up the timber. Hoseok at least has the decency to help you, starting with the log you threw at him. “There was another animal attack last night, in case you didn’t know.” 

That makes him pause. “There was?”

“Yes,” you hiss, snatching the last log and standing. “So stop lurking around corners and scaring me. It isn’t funny.” 

“Well, an animal isn’t going to attack you in the village. Unless you’re talking about Mingyu’s fiancee, anyway. That one is feral indeed.” 

You level Hoseok with a look and he gives you a grin. His nose and ears are red from the cold - and maybe a little guilt for scaring you - and he offers to take the timber from your arms. You let him, shoveling it over to him and marching around the front of your house. 

Wind howls between the houses, ripping at the ends of your red cloak. It catches your hood, throwing it up over your head as you shiver and tuck your hands into the fur lining. A shiver rattles up your spine as you kick the snow from your boots and rush inside, Hoseok quick on your heels. 

“So what happened?” Hoseok asks, following you to your room. 

“The Matheson Family,” you mumble. “They were attacked. San went down to collect new saddles his father ordered and found them slaughtered - their hounds too.” 

“They have hunting hounds - what the hell can kill those?”

“Perhaps it’s the wolves again. Dr. Kim was going with the city council to investigate.” 

Hoseok sighs. “The timing isn’t good. It’s about time the traders arrived. What if they bypass us entirely if the road is too dangerous?”

It’s a thought that has been plaguing everyone in the village. Because of the remote location on the north side of the woods, your small spec on the map relies on traders at the beginning of every winter for things that you’ll need to make it through: salt, extra grain and fruits, tools too advanced and large for the local smithy, repairs on houses and wagons. 

Arrival times of traders fluctuate every year. Sometimes there’s a cold snap, burying roads in heavy snow that are unnavigable. Other times, there is unrest in the woods when a rogue band of thieves gets the idea to rob travelers and hide in the woods until the city council sends a team of men to deal with it. 

Now, though, it’s getting into the late period of their arrival. The entire village holds its breath waiting for them, people looking out the open gates down the snowy road hoping to see a courier come ahead to announce the arrival of wagons and troupes of people. 

“Do you really think it’s wolves?” Hoseok asks. “I don’t think I’ve heard of wolf attacks like this since…” 

Hoseok winces. “It’s fine,” you assure him with a smile. “It’s not like I remember that time, much less remember my dad.” 

It’s true. Early memories of your childhood are murky at best. You remember being happy and loving your dad. You remember a period of fear and general uneasiness in the town, wolf attacks rampant and frequent. There had been plenty of men and women who died during that period, including your father.

That was a long time ago, though. For the most part, life in your small village is uninteresting. Some winters are harder than others, like the current season, but you’ve always managed to get by. 

“Do you remember much of that time period?” you ask him quietly. 

“Not really. Just that everyone was afraid. It was a really harsh winter and it drove wolves down from the mountains. I remember it being strange.”

“Strange how?” 

You chew your lip and shake your head, trying to encapsulate the thread of memory you have. Of feeling the tremor of fear in the air, the cold feeling of dread… like something violent was in the village. Something wrong.

“I don’t know. I was so young.”

“Hmm.” 

The talk of wolves makes you think about your wolf. Your lips curve at the memory of how gentle the wolf was, the somber eyes, and the smell of pine and bergamot. 

It would be a lie to say you had not gone out to the woods several times since that night to try and find the beast again. You haven’t seen him since, but you’ve always had a feeling he’s there somewhere. Watching. Waiting. 

“Either way,” Hoseok sighs. “Dad seems worried this winter will be like that time. He’s been doing a lot of will and testament papers at the office. He works late every night and is gone early in the morning.” 

“Really?”

“Want to hear what Mr. Hillshire is leaving for his kids?” Hoseok leans forward, conspiratorial. “You won’t believe it.” 

-

The bell over the door rings as someone enters the salon of Dr. Kim’s veterinary practice, drawing your attention. You straighten when you see San walk in.

“Hi, San,” you greet. “Here to pick up Maple?” 

“Yeah, is that alright? Mom is busy at the shop.” 

“Of course.” You wipe your sweaty hands on your skirts and gesture behind you with your thumb. “I’ll go fetch her. Dr. Kim is on an errand but she’s ready to go.” 

The back of the building with the kennels is quiet. The Choi family cat and two other sleeping dogs are the only occupants of the practice, making it an easy day. Maple is dozing in her kennel, chirping in protest when you open the cage and scoop her into a carrier. She’s a lazy thing, a calico with pretty eyes and a newly stitched ear. 

Carefully you carry her up front. San is standing patiently in the lobby, hands behind his back as he looks around nervously. You raise your brows as you come around the counter, handing over the carrier. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm?”

“You look nervous. It’s just me and the Lowells’ hounds back here.” 

“Oh, yes.” His ears blush pink as he accepts the carrier and steps back. “Just a nervous energy in general. I have been since um…”

Oh. You had forgotten that it was San who discovered the Matheson family disemboweled by some kind of animal. The constable had thought that maybe it was a pack of wolves but was concerned by how big the claw marks and destruction were. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt.

“For what?”

“That you had to see that, I guess? It must have been terrifying.”

“A little,” he admits, looking at his shoes. “I walked the path to the Mathesons all the time. I don’t ever recall seeing something that could… do that.”

“Was it that awful?” 

He nods. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen. Don’t get me wrong, I go on hunting parties. We’ve seen the leftovers from bears and wolves. This was something worse. It felt like…” He shakes his head and looks up at you. “It felt angry.”

“Angry?”

“Yeah. I know that doesn’t make sense. It was probably just a beast coming down from the mountain because it was starving. You know how harsh winters are.” 

You hum in agreement. 

San dismisses himself, thanking you again for helping with the family cat and throwing a wave over his shoulder. You return it half-heartedly, already distracted with thoughts of what the animal attacks could mean.

You think about your wolf and how kind and intelligent it was. You don’t remember ever feeling a sense of impending doom like you do now, a heaviness to the air as you stand idly behind the counter. 

Dr. Kim's return startles you at the counter. You press your hands flat against the top of the desk, leaning up on your tiptoes as you see his son Seokjin enter behind him. Your heart flutters a little at the sight, still overwhelmed by his handsome face. 

Seokjin is tall and broad, with dark hair and a beautiful face. His sharp eyes find you and he gives you a half smile, though there seems to be something on his mind as he follows his father into the backroom, Dr. Kim barely saying hello as he goes, his brows furrowed in deep thought.

The two of them disappear and you watch the door swing shut behind them. Curious, you trail around the counter and softly walk over to the door, pulling it open a smidge.

It’s difficult to pick up on their words, but you can hear Dr. Kim’s timbre speaking in low tones from somewhere in the backroom. You hold your breath and wedge the door open a little more, pressing your ear toward the gap between the frame and the door. 

“... again. They’re going to want to start hunting parties again soon.”

“So what do we do?”

Silence. Then, “Send a message….”

“... brought it on themselves… it’s time to make things right.” 

Behind you, the bell rings at the door. You gasp, letting go of the door to the back room and spin around, heart hammering in your chest. Hoseok stands at the door, raising his brows in question. 

“What are you doing here?” you demand, suddenly angry that he’s startled you and ruined your sleuthing.

“I promised your mom I would walk home with you at the end of your shift, remember? Dangerous out there.” 

You blink and look out the window, realizing that the heavy gray of evening is setting over the road. You hadn’t realized it was so late. 

Nodding, you grab your cloak in a hurry. You pop your head into the back room, both Seokjin and Dr. Kim looking at you as you do. “I’m leaving for the evening, sir. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you for watching the place while I was gone. Tomorrow we have to make a house call to the Marrow farm. Lame horse.”

Seokjin frowns. “Do you think that is wise?” Dr. Kim looks at his son under heavy brows. “With the current conditions.” 

“We’ll be fine.” Something passes between them, son and father locked in a heated gaze. You stand there awkwardly, glancing between the two.

Seokjin breaks his stare from his father and flashes you a grin. “You have someone to walk you home?”

“Yeah, Hoseok is here.” You hug the cloak tighter to your chest and Seokjin’s eyes drop to it. An unreadable expression passes his face before he nods. “Have a good evening!”

“You too.”

Leaving them behind, you head to where Hoseok waits for you, examining drawings of animal skeletons and anatomy. You pull your cloak on, feeling safe and warm under the red material. Hoseok looks up at you, thrusting his thumb at one of the drawings of a horse. “I don’t look like that, right?” 

-

The red cloak tied around you wicks the sweat from the back of your neck. Your fingers work quickly as you tie it, knowing you’re already late to meeting Dr. Kim. Thankfully, you don’t make a habit of being late and you’re sure he won’t mind too much.

Strange dreams had plagued you all night. Images of wolves, blood and mist. Echoes of howling, screaming and thunder. Now as you hurry out of your home and into the wicked wind of winter, you cannot shake a sense of premonition.

Dr. Kim is already on the doorstep when you arrive at the veterinary office, a heavy coat on his shoulders and a bag of tools in his hand. He nods when he sees you and comes down the steps, turning toward the south exit of the village. 

Neither of you speak. Beyond the fact that you don’t think you’d be able to hear Dr. Kim over the howling wind, it doesn’t feel like the kind of trip that requires speaking. The evergreens on either side of the road loom over you, bows heavy with snow. Every so often, a branch cracks with the weight of frozen icicles, making you flinch with the sound.

It feels like you’re being watched. Every so often, you swivel your head this way and that, glancing at the trees. The trunks are too close together and the branches to tangle to see beyond them on either side of the road. Still, your skin tingles from something beyond the cold, you just don’t know what. 

The Marrow farm is only a little over a mile from the main village, but the snow covered roads make it slow going. As you near the edge of where their acres begin, your boots are already heavy with melted slush and your calves and thighs burn from dragging your feet through the path. 

Perhaps it was not a good day to do a house call. 

Passing white-covered gates, you’re thankful that at least the wind has died down as the morning turns into midday. The sun is hidden by clouds, but there is a hint of warmth in the air. The Marrow farm is made up of three buildings: the small house in front, the large barn to the back left where they keep their animals, and a giant silo for grains. 

As you near the house, a loud banging reaches you. Both you and Dr. Kim pause, listening as the sound carries on the wind. It doesn’t sound like hammering, but rather like a door slamming over and over again. 

“Barn door?” you suggest, looking up at Dr. Kim. His dark eyes look at the house, expression grim. “But why would they let it slam relentlessly?” 

“Keep your wits about you,” he murmurs, ignoring your question. “Go to the main house. I’ll go round to the barn. Perhaps they’ve forgotten the appointment.”

No smoke comes from the chimney. No snow is cleared from the footpath to the door. The shutters are closed, which makes sense to keep the cold out. As you approach the steps leading up to the porch, you note that none of the hounds are baying. The Marrow’s have several bloodhounds, all of which keep noisy providence around the threshold of the door. 

Spine tingling, you lift your hand and knock. There’s no answer. You strain your ears, leaning forward for any hint that the Marrow’s or one of their two sons are coming to the door. Not even the dogs alert them of your presence. 

You think about San finding the Mathesons butchered and your stomach drops. You knock again, knuckles stinging with cold as they rap harshly against the wooden door. Tucking your hand back into your cloak, you wait. 

Nothing comes. 

Taking a deep breath, you reach for the door and twist the handle. It opens easily, swinging inward to a cold, empty home. Inside, the air is still and dead. Behind you, the breeze brushes the edges of your cloak and the hood on your head. 

Silence hangs. Licking your lips, you lift a foot. It hands over the threshold, fear making you pause. There is nothing inside the home, and yet you find that you’re utterly terrified of stepping inside. Your stomach knots and for a few moments, you just stand there with your foot in the air, staring with unseeing eyes into the dark interior. 

You step into the room and pause. Nothing happens. The air inside the home is stale, like the doors and windows have not been opened for a few days. The cold is bone deep, clinging to the undisturbed air. You scan the room for any sign of life, but see nothing that stirs. 

Everything looks lived in. There are knitted blankets tossed across the backs of old arm chairs, boots by the door, unlaced and soft with age. Mugs have been turned upside down and placed on a towel near the basin for drying, and there are dice on the kitchen table. 

Navigating slowly, you move to the hall with bedrooms. Doors hang open, revealing unmade beds and clothes on the floor. Here too, the air feels undisturbed. You hear the breeze outside and the soft creak of the house, but nothing else makes a sound, save for the loud beating of your own heart. 

Shivering, you make your way to the front of the home. Something foul hangs in the air and you want to be rid of the feeling, quickening your steps to leave through the front door and-

Fear stabs deep into your stomach when you see the wolf standing in the doorway. It stands half in the home, half out, only the front two paws over the threshold. The beast barely fits in the door frame, wide as two men standing side by side and tall as a horse. 

You don’t move. It stares at you with bright, burning eyes. Its fur is dark, though there is a jagged ring of light fur around the right, front paw. You swear you smell pine and bergamot. Something nudges at the back of your mind as the two of you stand off - and it clicks into place.

“You,” you breathe. “You’re the wolf I helped!” 

For a moment, the bright yellow eyes stare at you. They’re unreadable, and yet… emotive. Intelligent. Understanding. The wolf dips its snout in a nod. 

“What are you doing here? Where are the Marrows?” 

The wolf’s ears flicker. Slowly, it backs out of the house. Throwing caution to the wind, you rush after him, nearly tripping over a wolfskin rug in the home.

Outside, the wolf stands below the porch. You step on the porch and pull up short, heart racing as you see the pack of wolves standing in front of the home.

The wolves are a variety of colors and sizes. You dare not move your head, but you scan them with your eyes, drinking in the different creatures. The only thing that they have in common is that they are freakishly large. 

Your wolf - for in your mind he’s yours - stands in front of you. He growls, hair on his spine raising as he regards the other wolves. There’s a silent standoff of sorts, the wolf you saved facing the others. You cannot understand their body language, but the air seems charged. 

The smell of smoke is in the air. You don’t dare look for the source, too afraid to do anything to disrupt the standoff. Breathing in deeply, you think you smell cedar. Oil. Something else that you can’t identify. 

Footsteps crunch the snow. You whip your head to the side, a warning on your tongue as Dr. Kim rounds the house, a haunted expression on his face. He stops abruptly, looking at the display in front of him behind frosted glasses. He says nothing - does nothing but glance between you, the wolf in front of you, and the others. 

Finally, one of the other wolves chuffs and shakes, dispelling snow. It has an all white coat and intense, dark eyes that look at you with… annoyance, if wolves can look annoyed. It turns to leave and the others follow - all five of them - as the white wolf leads them at a loping trot toward the silo and the woods beyond.

Your wolf turns to peer at you, ears flicking before it breaks off into a run, trailing after its pack to leave you and Dr. Kim standing in silence, watching them go. 

Slowly, you turn to Dr. Kim. He scrutinizes you, eyes squinted. “Where did you get that cloak?” 

You look down at the rich, red cloth. “I… well it just appeared, one day when I was younger. I don’t know.”

He regards you suspiciously. “I see. Come. We must leave right away.”

Dr. Kim begins walking at a fast pace back toward town, clutching his tool case. “Wait! Where are the Morrows?” 

Instead of answering, Dr. Kim continues on. You scramble after him, careful not to slip on the icy stairs. The wind picks up and you smell a fire again, making you turn back as you try to catch up. You almost stumble over your feet, eyebrows shooting up as you see orange flames consuming the barn. 

“Dr. Kim!”

Again, he says nothing. You stop and stare, watching as the fire eats away at the barn. The smoke burns black. Fueled by oil, you think. Looking over your shoulder, you watch Dr. Kim’s retreating back and wonder what exactly it is that he’s done. 

“Did you set that fire?” you demand, chasing him. He gives you a withering look. “What is going on?”

“Speak nothing of this,” he snaps. “We arrived here to make a housecall and discovered that the barn was on fire. We suspect that Mr. Marrow was burning to melt the snow around the barn and that the barn caught. The Marrow family died inside trying to put out the fire.”

“But the wolves-”

“Do not mention the wolves, girl.”

“Did they kill the Marrows?” His jaw works but he doesn’t answer. “Did they kill the Mathesons?” 

“This village has a complicated history,” he says finally. He pulls his coat tighter. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I do expect you to stay out of it. Say nothing of the wolves and stay away from them. You’ll make it through winter.”

-

Two weeks pass, the secret heavy on your tongue. You work with Dr. Kim as though nothing happened, and when people ask about the Marrow farm, you recite vague details. You don’t know why you do it but… the image of the wolf - your wolf - floats in your mind each time you spit out the lie. 

Thoughts plague you as Hoseok lounges on the porch of the office that belongs to Hoseok’s father, who acts as the town’s scribe and legal affairs recorder. A sudden warm day has brought everyone outdoors, lounging on their porches and trying to take advantage of the melting snow around the buildings. The streets are muddy and murky as kids run by, feet splashing. 

A group of men prowl around the outskirts of the village. Sun shines through the slats of the overhang in front of the inn, warming where you lean on the porch railing. Hoseok rattles on about gossip he’s heard from his mother’s tea parties and his father’s work on will and testaments with the growing fear of death in the village. 

“Plagues, serial killings, blood feuds and animal attacks,” Hoseok sighs, staring up at the ceiling where he lies. “Good for father’s business. Bad for my cramping hand trying to help him.” 

“Hmm,” you hum noncommittally, thoughts lost as you stare out into the street with unseeing eyes.

Shouts make you flinch. You stand rod straight, gripping the railing as you look for the source of the disruption. Hoseok stands up immediately, joining you at the railing as the pair of you lean to look toward the entrance to the town. 

At first, you think that it’s about another wolf attack. People rush into the street, looking toward the commotion. Then you see it. Gleeful cheers spring up to the buildings closest to the town’s entrance as the first few traders enter the road. Your heart soars when you see donkeys pulling a cart behind them, followed by more people carrying packs and towing small carts. 

“The traders!” You breathe, feeling a sigh of relief sweep through you. “They’ve made it!” 

Excitement ripples through the village. People come flocking from the buildings to welcome cart after cart full of people. Some traders tow full carriages with riders at the front, the shutters on their carriages tied shut, hiding their wares inside. 

Hoseok lounges back down, letting out a sigh of relief. You feel the same, leaning on the railing again to watch as the carts are towed down the road, pulling down different streets to set up shop and find accommodations. 

Most of the traders look vaguely familiar to you - you see the Robin’s with their cloth cart and Morty with his towering carriage of unusual wares and charms. The Yang twins set off small, popping fireworks from the back of their cart, making the children squeal. 

Something catches your eye. “There are more traders than usual,” you tell Hoseok, frowning as your eyes settle on the large men who walk among the carts, all of whom wear weapons belts and look from side to side as they walk. “I think they’re warriors, Hoseok.”

“Warriors?” he laughs. “Strange.”

“No really, there are several men with blades at the hip and bows on the back. They look… guarded.”

He tilts his head, eyeing where your eyes flit from person to person. “Perhaps the road is as hard as we suspected this year.” 

You hum in agreement, watching as the caravans stop and unload, the muddy streets filling with people and chatter and bubbling with excitement. It feels like the bubble of anxiety looming over the town has popped - at least temporarily - relieving the pressure that had been building with every passing day. 

Leaning against the rail, you’re content to observe. All manner of people and things are pulled from carts. Vendors start setting up right away, people forming lines for ingredients, cloth, and wares. The largest line of all is for weapons and metal tools, Old Man Heo barely has time to park his cart before the men of the village ask how much for iron arrowheads and blades. 

A shiver goes through you as your eyes sweep back toward the town entrance where more people pour in. Fewer caravans come through - now it’s just people with pack mules or bags over their shoulders. 

The hairs on your arm stand up when you see him. Wind lifts the edge of your cloak, making it flutter around you. You watch as he walks down the main street with the other travelers, eyes flicking around as he drinks in the buildings and the crowd of villagers coming to welcome the traders. 

As though he senses your staring, his head snaps to you. You feel frozen to the spot, your fingers tightening on the rail as you meet his eyes. They’re unfathomably dark and yet… a tingle of familiarity slithers up your spine. 

He stares at you in turn. You’re sure he’s looking at you, paused near the cart he stands next to, dark gaze focused on where you stand on the porch. 

You’ve never seen him.  You’re sure of it. You’d remember a handsome face like that anywhere. His long, dark hair is pushed back from his face, revealing a sharp jawline, a strong nose, and intense eyes. His lips are red from the cold - pretty against tan skin.

He’s tall. Taller than most men in the village and broad, with strong shoulders and thick arms, though it’s hard to tell underneath his tunic. Like the other hardy men accompanying traders, he has a weapons belt snug around his waist and the bulk of his frame implies that he knows how to use them. 

The man doesn’t break eye contact. His mouth begins to tilt in what you think might be the start of a smile when Hoseok sits up abruptly, startling you. You break eye contact, looking at Hoseok who bites into an apple, offering you one. 

“You frightened me,” you snap, a little irritated at being distracted. When you glance back up at the man, his attention is elsewhere. 

“What were you staring at anyway?” he asks, crunching bits of apple. 

“Nothing,” you murmur, eyes on the flexing back of the man as he helps unload a wagon near the inn. Something niggles at the back of your mind. I know you. “Nothing at all.” 

“Want to visit the vendors later when they’re all set up? I would love to get some spiced wine and listen to Marla’s stories tonight.”

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation. “Let’s do just that.” 

-

Every minute that passes by feels like an eternity. Incurable energy simmers under the surface as you wait for the day to fade to evening. You clean the entire house, you collect wood from outside, you dress and then change into something else, and you ultimately end up pacing back and forth in your room while you wait for Hoseok to arrive. 

Your thoughts are consumed by the mystery man you had seen earlier. His handsome face swims in your memory. The clear image of his face is accompanied by some feeling you cannot identify, something that almost feels like nostalgia. How can you feel nostalgia for someone you don’t know? 

Hoseok finally arrives, letting himself into your house cheerily. The brief respite from winter is already bleeding away, the wind carrying a painful promise as it lifts your hood outside. The traders, it seems, arrived at the perfect time, the cloudy sky promising snow in the morning once more. 

Energy sizzles in the air. It’s as though the momentary fear of the wolf attacks is momentarily forgotten with the arrival of the vendors and travelers. The noise echoes from every street, torches, and fires lighting up the alleyways and down as people hang lamps in the windows and carts string up tea lights. 

Though you’re nervous, you are temporarily distracted as Hoseok pulls you through a tangle of carts toward Sal’s Sweets. Your stomach grumbles when you catch the scent of melting sugar and sweet confections, joining the line at Hoseok’s side to pick up hot, sticky sweets. 

With hot, sweet rolls drizzled in honey in hand, you and Hoseok explore the vendor carts. It is an explosion of color and lights, glittering jewelry hanging from displays, hot meats sizzling in pants over fires, the flash of powder and light as the Yang twins set off more fireworks, and the smell of spices as you pass by herb carts and tents. 

Everywhere you go, you see the men from before, looming near carts with weapons and steely expressions. But not even the eerie sight of them can bring down the spirits of the villagers, kids running with new kites and jars full of fireflies. 

As you stand in line with Hoseok who wants new inkwells, you listen to passing chatter. From what you gather, it was a hard trip this way on the caravans this year. The winter was just as harsh on the road as it was in the village, and the traders' voices become quiet when they talk about thieves and monsters in the woods.

You exchange a glance with Hoseok and he nods. Wolves. 

Wordlessly, you wait as Hoseok points out the inks that he wants. You begin to crane your neck, looking for the familiar stranger that you had seen before. The square is crowded and packed tight with people, making it nearly impossible to make out much beyond a few feet in front of you.

You spot Dr. Kim walking next to Seokjin, both of their heads bowed as they speak to one another. You narrow your eyes, remembering the way Dr. Kim had silenced you at the Marrow farm. You watch them as they head toward the road that the veterinary practice is on, pausing as a man pushes off the wall to join them.

It’s him you realize. You recognize the broad shoulders and the dark hair as he turns his back to you, walking with the Kims down the road. You don’t even have to think twice.

“Hey,” you tug Hoseok’s sleeve. “I’m going to go see Dr. Kim about something really quick. I’ll meet you at the inn?”

“Sure.” He frowns. “Is it safe to go alone?”

“With all of these people?” You’re already backing away and shrugging. “Definitely.” 

Without waiting for Hoseok to respond, you turn on your heel and rush into the crowd. The bodies of people immediately swallow you. The sound and sights and smells become a blur as you push through the crowd, shouldering people aside. You get some nasty looks from the force at which you move, but they immediately forget you as more people press in.

Less people pass you by as you walk up the street, pulling your cloak in tight. The lights in front of the building are off. You creep up the stairs and try the handle, finding it locked. It doesn’t matter, you sneak around the back of the building to the rear entrance and press your ear to the door. When you hear nothing, you try the handle and it twists.

Victorious, you open the door and slide through. The hallway is narrow with four doors on the right leading to examination rooms and two doors on the left. The first door leads to the kennel area where you hear voices. The second leads to the front lobby and desk.

The front lobby is the safest option, lest you get caught eavesdropping in the hallway when they leave. Carefully, you creep by the door, holding your breath and praying the floor doesn’t creak. Your heart pounds as you inch past the door, hearing deep voices on the other side as you go by. 

Clearing the door, you hurry into the lobby and to the door behind the desk that leads to the kennels. Crouching down low to hide yourself from anyone walking by the windows, you carefully pull the door open, unwilling to open it any further than the width of your index finger. Pressing your ear to the open gap, you listen.

“We talked about discretion,” Dr. Kim says, his voice frustrated. “This isn’t discretion. This is harassment and fear-mongering.”

“I told you,” a deep, smooth voice answers. You assume it must belong to the stranger and you shiver, eyes fluttering as the sound of it washes over you. “It isn’t my decision to make. I do not lead. Yoongi made it very clear how he wishes to proceed.” 

“Yoongi is a lunatic.”

“He’s the alpha.”

You frown. Alpha? You’re familiar with the concept of alphas in packs of dogs and herding animals, but you don’t know what that has to do with people or who Yoongi is. 

“The hunts will begin tomorrow.”

You think Dr. Kim means the hunting for the wolves. It makes sense now that the traders are in town and they can stock up on weapons. 

“As is the way of things,” the stranger answers with a sigh. “You know why Yoongi has chosen this path.”

“Is revenge worth it?”

“Perhaps your kind do not understand.” The stranger’s voice hardens. You wonder what he means by your kind. “You have one foot in the forest, one in the village.” 

“We understand, but we’re also not reckless.” Charged quiet hangs in the air. You hold your breath, your heart thundering in your chest, waiting for the sound of footsteps at the end of a conversation. “Why are you here, Namjoon? You came alone.”

Namjoon. The name washes over you, a warm feeling like the first spray of summer rain. It must be the stranger's name. 

Namjoon answers, “There is… a protected here. But I still fear for them. Yoongi and the others are angry - I wish to further keep them from harm.”

A frown twists your mouth. This Namjoon is here to protect someone from Yoongi. You wonder what this has to do with Dr. Kim. Could… Perhaps someone is using the wolves as tools? You’ve certainly seen a hunter train wolves or wolfhounds before, though it’s a dangerous business. 

Dr. Kim sighs. “That is the only saving grace of you being here, I’m afraid. Seokjin and I cannot help you. Not without exposing ourselves. I’ve already done what I can.”

“You have my greatest thanks for that. You and yours will always be safe. And not just because of your blood.”

Shuffling makes you lean away from the door immediately. You slowly drop it back in place before crawling over to the desk and hiding under it, straining your hearing as the footsteps go into the back hall and out of the back door. You remain there long after you hear the back door shut, waiting just in case they’re still outside.

When you’re sure they’ve gone, you crawl out from underneath the desk and hurry into the hall and out the back door. The alley is empty when you stick your head out, sagging with relief. You hurry out and close the door behind you, spinning around and-

“You know, most people who don’t want to be seen don’t sneak around in a red cloak.”

The man - Namjoon - looms over you, looking down at you with an amused expression. Your scream is cut off when he winces and cups your mouth with his hand. “Well don’t scream! You’ll summon Giho and Seokjin back this way. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Namjoon waits for a moment, your chest heaving as you nod, signifying that you won’t scream for help. Maybe it’s silly, but you trust him not to hurt you. At the least, he is there to protect someone in the village, so he doesn’t seem like he’s there for nefarious reasons.

When he drops his hands, you press yourself against the door, trying to put a little distance between you. Namjoon’s presence is demanding, a tickle prickling at the base of your spine as you look up at him, mystified. 

He’s so beautiful. Up close, you can make out his features far better than earlier that day. His eyes are dark and framed by beautiful, silken lashes. His nose is broad and his jaw is sharp. A dimple appears when he gives you a lopsided grin, dark eyes sizing you up.

The same sense of familiarity from earlier comes back to you, and though you’ve never seen his face before, you swear you know him. Warmth radiates from him, the delicate smell of pine and bergamot reaching you. He feels like… yours. Like some part of him completes you. It is the strangest feeling. 

“You okay, Red?” he asks, tone earnest. You furrow your brows at the term and he grins - genuine and warm. “Your cloak. It’s a very bright red. Pretty, though.”

“Thank you?”

He raises a brow. “Are you asking me?”

“I’m… you’re awfully close.”

Namjoon takes a few steps back from you. You suddenly regret saying something as his warmth vanishes, replaced by the cool wind. “Sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“Why didn’t you alert Dr. Kim if you knew I was snooping.”

“You don’t seem to be a threat. Plus, he’s a bit of a grouch. It didn’t seem worth it to hear him chastise a pretty girl.”

You flush. “How do you know the Kims?”

“Family friends.” 

“What were you all talking about?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Just because I’m not chastising you for listening to our private conversation doesn’t mean I’m going to divulge the details of said private conversation.”

You divert your gaze, feeling flushed. He has a point, but if he’s put out by your line of questioning or your eavesdropping, he doesn’t show it. “Come on,” Namjoon says. “Let’s go back to the square. I need a drink and it’s dangerous to walk around right now.”

“Because of the wolves?”

He stares at you. “Because it’s dark and there are a bunch of strangers in your town, and you’re a woman alone. In the dark.”

“You’re a stranger in my town.”

His grin spreads and his dimple deepens. Your stomach flutters. You’re not unaffected by him, a little dizzy and nervous when he sticks out a hand. “Namjoon. I’m a part of the Kim family.”

“Like… Dr. Kim?” you ask, reaching out your hand and giving him your name.

“We’re related, in a way. Pretty name. I think I’ll stick with Red, though.”

Namjoon takes off walking. For a second, you just stand and stare at him. He shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn’t look back. You lick your lips, heart pounding. You cannot shake the sense of something peculiar about him, something familiar. He’s a Kim - perhaps you know him.

Determined to find out, you take off after him, scurrying to catch up. You fall into step with him and look up to find him smirking down at you before focusing back on the growing noise and lights of the main square. 

“Have you been here before?” you ask, watching him from the corner of your eye. He shakes his head and you frown. “I feel like I know you.”

“Perhaps I have one of those faces?”

“No, I’d remember a face like yours.”

Namjoon turns to you, arching a brow. “A face like mine, huh?” 

Multiple fire pits dot the streets, groups of people clustered around them to keep warm as the chill seeps back into the village. The inn is bustling with people, the door propped open with a chair as people walk in and out with platters of food and tankards in hand. Multiple villagers have pulled out tables and chairs from their homes, setting them up in the street. 

It feels good. The air hums with euphoria and the promise of better days ahead, like suddenly there are not several families mourning their loved ones. The atmosphere reminds you of a festival, and you suppose it kind of is a festival. 

The smell of burning fat and ale hits your nose as you walk into the inn. Voices roar over one another and the workers are busy behind the bar. A fireplace crackles in the far corner where you spot Hoseok guarding an extra chair. 

“I fear this is where we part ways,” Namjoon announces over the din of voices. “Try not to do any more eavesdropping tonight.” You hesitate, wanting to protest. There are a million burning questions you have for him. He must see it in your face, because he smiles and says, “We’ll run into one another again. Don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

You were actually, and you know he knows by his smirk. “Goodnight, Red.”

You watch Namjoon go. He moves toward where the innkeeper stands at a podium looking over reservations, blending into the crowd. Just before he reaches the podium he glances over his shoulder at you, catching you watching. He shoots you a grin and you scowl, pivoting on your heel to charge toward Hoseok. 

Hoseok raises his eyebrows when he sees you storm over to him and yank the chair out from the table, sitting down in a huff. Without a word, you snatch his tankard of ale and take several, cold gulps before setting it on the table, letting it wash through you. 

“Who was that you came in with? And then stormed over here after speaking to?”

“Some relative of the Kims,” you mutter. “I find him very… frustrating.”

“He’s very handsome.”

You glare at Hoseok and see the beginning of a wicked smile. “And frustrating.” 

He lifts his cup, shrugging. “Cheers to being frustrating.”

-

A scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You lurch up from bed, head spinning as you try to gather your wits about you. Blankets tangle your limbs as you try to peel them from sweaty skin. Another scream makes you stumble out of bed, the world tilting on its axis as your body tries to catch up with your sudden lucidity. 

In the main room of your home, your mother is stumbling through the kitchen too, lighting a candle and grabbing a holder. You feel relief as you realize the screaming isn’t coming from your home, but your neighbor’s.

Together, you and your mother rush out into the cold in nightgowns, not bothering with shoes or coats. The cold is bitter, immediately stinging your skin as the Liang family joins you in running to the Hutch family home where it sounds like Mrs. Hutch is screaming like a wild animal in her house. 

“It’s Leanne,” your mother breathes, words turning to steam in the air. 

“Come on,” you urge, pulling your mother as you go, driven by the shrieks.

The front door hangs open as Mr. Liang enters the home first, an ax in hand. It occurs to you that neither you nor your mother have weapons, but Mrs. Hutch has always been kind to your mother, making the both of you charge into the darkness of her home empty-handed.

A metallic tang hits you immediately. You recoil, recognizing the stench of blood immediately. Villagers spill into the home behind you, alerted to the wailing coming from the bedroom. With torches and candles in hand, you spot the red on the dark wood floor in the hallway. 

Mr. Liang stands in the doorway of the bedroom, staring with a haunted gaze at what he sees there. Your mother pushes through the people in the home to look over his shoulder, her hand flying to her mouth as she gasps. 

“Oh Leanne,” she murmurs in horror, shoving by Mr. Liang.

You don’t go to the room. The smell and the weeping coming from the bedroom give you an inkling of what lay inside. You stand in the living room as people fill the hall, gasping and murmuring. Someone shouts to wake the constable. 

“Why?” Mrs. Hutch screams in her room, the despair in her voice rattling your bones. “Why?”

“His throat has been cut,” someone murmurs from the hall. “Murdered in bed.” 

Murdered? That throws you for a loop. You had assumed somehow it was an animal attack but… you shiver. Murder is different. 

Mr. Liang begins shooing people out of the house. You slink out into the cold and hurry to your own home, bare feet freezing in the cold, wet earth. Your mother stays with Mrs. Hutch, leaving you alone.

The dark presses in on you, every creak of a floorboard making you jump. The shadows seem menacing now and you’re quick to find and light a candle, orange light flooding the home. 

Cloth and candle in hand, you return to your room to wipe the cold mud from your feet, skin still burning from the frigid air. Voices carry in from outside, the entire town waking and gathering as the shock of murder ripples through the streets, a stone in a pond.

With sleep nowhere near possible for the remainder of the night, you get dressed. You pull on thick woolen pants, a tunic, and multiple socks, sticking your feet in your boots. Your cloak goes next, fastening it around your throat as you look out your bedroom window. 

Your home sits at an angle in a row of houses that circle the village like a ring. You can see the wall of the home next to you, and a sliver of the backyard as well. It’s that tiny space in the backyard that catches your eye, watching as someone moves from the edge of the home out of sight. 

Heart in your throat, you grab a candle and run outside. The crowd in front of the Hutch’s has grown, but you ignore them, skirting around your house to the alleyway between you and your neighbor. Nothing catches your eye as you run to the backyard, swiveling as you search in the darkness for the shadow you saw. 

The wind howls, drowning out the voices in the street. The treeline behind the houses is dark. You squint your eyes and lift the candle in your hand, the flame barely flickering as the wind makes the trees sway. There is nothing in the darkness and you begin to turn when you see a shadow in the tree line. 

It’s barely there - perhaps a trick of the light, even. You take a step forward, boots crunching in the snow. A gust of wind makes your cloak snap at your ankles, candle going out and leaving you without a source of light. You had not realized how dark it was without it, the shadow vanishing from your line of sight. 

Fear nestles in the pit of your stomach. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs as your limbs lock, realizing how stupid it was to come outside if there was a killer among the trees. Soft snow crunches somewhere close to you. You squeeze your eyes shut, tucking your chin to your chest as panic makes you shut down, unable to move and-

“Red.”

Namjoon’s voice makes you spin around. He holds a torch level with his head, the flame casting an eerie glow on his face. For a moment, he looks lupine and terrifying, your heart nearly stuttering to a halt. 

Then his face twists in concern. “What are you doing out here alone?”

“What are you doing?”

“Dr. Kim sent me over to check on you. No one answered the door so I came around back.”

“Why?”

Namjoon seems confused. “Why did I come around back or why did he send me?”

“Both.”

“I could see the light of your candle and because a murder has just happened.”

You relax a little at the logic in his answer. Snow begins to fall from the sky. You look up at the moonless black,  thick clouds floating as the bits of snow drift on the breeze. You shiver and look back to the trees, seeing nothing but tightly packed pines. Still, there is an instinctual sense of trepidation that sits heavy in your gut.

“Come on,” Namjoon says gently. “Let’s go inside. I’ll wait with you until your mother comes home.” 

Reluctantly, you follow Namjoon. Eyeing him, you realize he is dressed differently than previously that night. Now, he’s in black breeches and a black linen shirt. The weapons belt is gone and he’s without a coat. 

You frown. “Aren’t you freezing?”

“I run warm.”

It’s the only answer that he gives you as you walk back into the street which is filled with people and torches. In the distance, you hear the baying of hounds. It chills you, goosebumps exploding up and down your arms as you watch a cluster of firelights gather far off down the road. 

“The constable is leading a manhunt. They’ll come to question us too.” 

Wordlessly you gesture for Namjoon to join you inside of your home. He closes the door firmly behind you and strides to the fireplace, using the torch to coax the simmering logs to a full flame. Cedar pops as he adds the torch to the fire, orange embers drifting up the chimney. 

Rubbing your hands together, you offer him tea and he accepts with a soft smile. It doesn’t meet his eyes as he looks around the only place you’ve ever called home. Suddenly shy of your less-than-luxurious surroundings, you clear your throat and gesture to one of the mismatched armchairs by the fire as you grab a kettle.

Namjoon hardly fits in the chair. You press your lips to keep from laughing, which feels inappropriate with a man dead just a few yards away. With careful hands, you hang the kettle next to the fire, the flame close enough to heat the water as you scurry back to the kitchen and fill tea bags with herbs. 

“What kind of tea do you like?”

“Yarrow, if you have it.”

“I do.” You grab the jar, popping the top. “Are you in great pain, Mr. Kim?”

“Call me Namjoon. Mr. Kim feels far too formal.”

“Well, we are strangers, after all.”

Namjoon certainly doesn’t feel like a stranger. You cast him a sidelong glance as you say it, looking for his reaction. He turns his head from the fire, meeting your gaze head-on. His lips curve in a secret smile, making your nerves dance.

“I suppose that’s true.”

Is it? You wonder. You’re not so sure. 

Instead of asking him, you bring the mugs with bags of tea over to where he sits, handing him one. Steam rises from the spout of the teapot. With a thick towel, you lift it off of the hanger. Namjoon holds out his cup and lets you pour carefully into his mug, the smell of yarrow and mint wafting toward you. After pouring your own cup, you set the kettle down and sit across from him.

Your cold hands leech the warmth from the mug. You settle comfortably in the chair, relaxing and inhaling the chamomile in your cup. After a few moments of silence, you realize how comfortable and safe you feel with Namjoon, though you’ve only known him for a few short hours. 

“Why have you come to the village?” 

Namjoon watches the fire as he answers, “You were eavesdropping at the veterinary office. I’m sure you heard me.” You look down at your steaming cup and Namjoon chuckles, raspy and deep. It’s a nice sound.

“You said there was a ‘protected’ here. And something about a Yoongi.”

Namjoon’s face darkens at the mention of Yoongi. You chew on your lip, worried you’ve pushed him too far before you’ve even started to ask him real questions. His jaw works as he contemplates what you’ve said, sipping the tea a little. 

“A protected just means someone under protection by my family,” Namjoon says finally. “My extended family is… large. We are a very close group and we consider those in our community blood.”

“It is… not always like that here.”

“Your mother assists Mrs. Hutch, though. That seems like family, in a way.”

“Mrs. Hutch is kind. Not everyone is.” 

Namjoon nods. “It is not like that where I am from. We bear the sins of our neighbors and we share the responsibility of keeping everyone safe.”

“That must be nice.” You sip your tea and scald your tongue, hissing and setting the cup down. Namjoon leans forward as though to help you, alarm on his face. “Tea is too hot. I don’t know how you drink it.”

He smiles and shrugs. “I run warm.” 

“So you said. How are you related to Dr. Kim?” 

“He’s my uncle. He’s my father’s brother. His wife was best friends with my mom.” 

“Oh.” You blink in surprise. “She passed away when I was very young. She… died the same winter as my father.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Namjoon frowns and cocks his head. “What did your father do?” 

“He was a hunter.”

One of the logs pops in the fireplace, making you flinch. You give a nervous laugh and glance at Namjoon, who has gone stone-still. The firelight dances on his face as he peers at you. Your smile falters a little at the gravity you find there. 

“He only hunted fowl and deer,” you find yourself explaining. You don’t know why you say it, only that suddenly that feels important. “He didn’t like to hunt bigger game or predators. Mother says that he believed they were best left alone and that a true hunter knows his betters when he sees them.”

Namjoon hums. “Smart man.”

“I don’t know. He died in an animal attack when I was very young.” 

“You must resent the woods.”

“Not at all. I think…” You bite your bottom lip, trying to find the right words. “I think that he wouldn’t blame the animals. The woods are their home. My mother says he was always very adamant about that. They don’t usually attack villagers, though.”

“Usually?”

“There are animal attacks happening. I’m sure Dr. Kim told you…?”

“Ah, yes. You think they’re without reason?”

“Perhaps hunger? I don’t know. It does not happen often.” 

“Wolves are not known to hunt people.” Namjoon’s fingers drum against his mug, a steady tap. He seems thoughtful as he regards you. “They’re intelligent creatures and their packs are important to them. They take the threat to their land and their family seriously.” 

“Like your family?”

He laughs. “Like my family.” Namjoon sips his tea again. “This land used to belong to several packs of wolves, you know?”

“Really?”

“Yes, until settlers drove them out. Not that long ago there were hunting parties for sport. They slaughtered entire packs, destroying bloodlines and nearly wiping out the wolves here entirely.”

“I always found that incredibly sad.”

“Why is that?”

“They’re incredibly important to the ecosystem here. And I guess I always agreed with my dad. I don’t remember him much, but I like to remember that he was good at heart.”

Namjoon hums but says nothing else. You sit in silence for a while, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Namjoon’s presence is steady, keeping out the cold and the fear just beyond the door. You wonder how he does that by just sitting in a chair, or how it feels so natural. 

Outside, the world begins to turn gray. You yawn as exhaustion begins to set in and you feel yourself sagging. Eyes burning, you rub them with the back of your hands, blinking a few times to fight the explosion of colors in your vision. 

“You can sleep,” Namjoon says softly from where he sits. You glance at him. “You can trust me.”

A hint of pine and bergamot drift toward you, making you drowsy. Namjoon grabs a blanket from the back of his chair and stands up, bringing it to you. He takes your mug and you watch him with sleepy, round eyes as he places the blanket over you.

“Sleep.” His voice is soft, distant. “I will be here.”

Your eyes flutter shut and you drift to sleep, remembering the warm sound of his voice. It… reminds you of your wolf.

-

Gentle voices pull you from the clutches of sleep. You wake slowly, a cramp in your neck making you reluctant to get up. You smell the fire and the hint of pine and bergamot. You hear a low, raspy voice that you instantly recognize as Namjoon. 

How swiftly I know his voice, you think. 

“You must wake her,” a male voice says. You recognize it as Dr. Kim. “The constable is coming for questioning.”

“She’s already awake,” Namjoon answers, a smile in his voice. Your eyes snap open at being caught, meeting his dark gaze as he smirks from near your door. “See?”

You scowl at him. How did he know that? Sitting up and stretching, you appraise the two men lurking near your door. “Is my mother still with Mrs. Hutch?”

Dr. Kim nods and steps swiftly into the room around Namjoon. Namjoon reaches out a hand, catching Dr. Kim with his arm and stopping him from entering the room properly. You watch in puzzlement as there’s a silent exchange between the two of them, Namjoon’s face dark as Dr. Kim raises a brow. 

Then, Namjoon lets him go. You cock your head to the side, wondering what that’s about. Ignoring Namjoon, Dr. Kim approaches and says, “The constable will be here shortly. Say nothing about the farm.”

The farm. The memory of the wolves brings a chill to your arm, the smell of smoke and burning oil. The confusion and Dr. Kim’s refusal to answer your questions. 

“What is going on?” you demand, eyes flickering from Dr. Kim to Namjoon. “Animal attacks, murders, you covering up something at the barn. I’m being lied to.” 

“Say nothing about the farm,” Dr. Kim says again, voice firm. Namjoon makes a noise that startles you. It’s almost like a growl, your eyes going wide as he glares at Dr. Kim. “I told you this village has a complicated history. I’m looking after your safety.” 

Heavy footsteps sound on the porch. There’s a loud knock on the door, the constable announcing his presence on the other side. Namjoon opens the door for him, standing back to let him in. The constable looks him up and down with confusion before looking at you, a question in his eyes.

“They came to check on me,” you offer. The constable has known you since you were a child, it’s no wonder he’s confused at the presence of a stranger in your home. “How can I help you, constable?”

“I’d like you to answer a few questions about last night. Mr. Liang confirmed you were one of the first people to Hutch’s last night.”

Dr. Kim walks to your kitchen and busies himself making tea. Namjoon moves to sit in the chair across from you, his warm presence from the night before replaced with something mildly threatening. You cut him a look but his dark eyes are focused on the constable as though he’s a threat. 

The questions are easy enough. When did you wake up? Did you notice anyone around your home when you came home? Did you notice anyone outside? When did you come home? 

You leave out running into Namjoon behind your home. You don’t know why, but you feel the need to not draw attention to him. You also leave out the strange incident at the farm, glancing sideways at Dr. Kim when he brings you lemon tea. 

When the constable is finished, he eyes Dr. Kim. “Be at the station at four,” he instructs. “We’re splitting hunting parties. One to look for the culprit, the other to get rid of the damn wolves.” 

“The wolves were there first, you know?” Namjoon speaks up, looking at you and not the constable. “Have you ever tried figuring out what they want?”

“And who the hell are you?”

“Please ignore my nephew, constable. He likes to insert himself in conversations he doesn’t belong in. Come, let’s look over the hounds before you send them out tonight.”

Together, the constable and Dr. Kim shuffle out. Before he shuts the door, Dr. Kim levels the pair of you with a heavy gaze. You don’t know what that gaze means, but you know that something is going on in this village and that he and Namjoon seem to have some idea about it.

As soon as the door shuts, you turn to Namjoon and demand, “What is going on?”

He sighs. “Would you listen if I just said to wait it out?”

“Do you know who murdered Mr. Hatch?” 

Namjoon hesitates and shakes his head. You narrow your eyes, unbelieving. “I really don’t know who did, Red.”

“Why are you really here? Why all the secrets?” 

“I told you, my family protects those who belong to their community.”

“What did you mean about asking what the wolves want?” 

“I told you last night. There were wolves long before this village existed. Seems to me that if the wolves are suddenly killing the townspeople, perhaps it’s because they want their land back. Or maybe they’re angry from years of being hunted.”

That shuts you up. You can’t argue with that, exactly. But… “Are you saying that the wolves are capable of revenge?”

Namjoon stands and gestures to your cloak. “How often do you wear that?”

“Every day. It’s… sentimental to me.”

His eyes lighten and he offers a half smile. “Good. Red is a lucky color.”

“Where are you going?”

He opens the door, cold wind hissing past the opening. “Your mom is coming. I’ll see you later, Red.”

Without another word, Namjoon slips through the door and shuts it firmly behind him. You stare after him, openmouthed and confused. As promised, you hear your mother come up the steps, light feet scuffing before she quickly lets herself in, shutting the door firmly behind her.

You offer to make your mother breakfast, happy to help as she dozes in the chair. It isn’t until later that you wonder how Namjoon had heard her coming at all.

-

Little Lucy Larkin

In a little wood

Little Lucy Larkin

Up to no good

Little Lucy Larkin

In her little hood

Little Lucy Larkin

Ware of the woods!

Little Lucy Larkin

Stole a little bread

Little Lucy Larkin

In the woods of dread

Little Lucy Larkin

Is a little thief

Little Lucy Larkin

Die by wolf’s teeth

A sense of unease slithers up your spine as you pull your cloak closer. The voice of the children playing the Little Lucy Game echoes down the street and you pause to watch as the little boy playing Lucy steals the rock from the middle of the circle and the little boy playing the wolf gets up to chase him. 

The other kids scream and giggle as the boys give chase, the sound of their laughter eerie in the cold gray of twilight. Shaking it off, you turn and duck your head as you walk up the steps to the Tall Tales Inn. 

Warmth and the scent of food greet you. It’s a thinner crowd than the day before but still more people than you’re used to without the traders in town. There is a clear divide in the dining room with traders on one side and townsfolk on the other, the murder quick to make the locals distrust the new people in their streets.

Tense conversations hum in the gold light. You navigate around tables until you find Hoseok sitting with Seokjin. The sight of Seokjin gives you pause. He seems to sense your presence, glancing up and meeting your questioning stare. He gives no reaction, though, turning his attention back to Hoseok who is murmuring quietly.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Jin,” you say by way of greeting. Hoseok gives you a look at your clipped tone. You ignore it, sitting down and leveling the older man with a stare, his father’s mysteriousness weighing on you. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

He narrows his eyes a fraction. “Just enjoying the company of friends.”

“Shouldn’t you be helping the constable?”

“I’m on the late-night shift.” 

Grinding your teeth, you sit roughly. Hoseok just watches you, brows raised. You say nothing as you order a drink and a meal, picking at the splinters of the tabletop, eyeing Seokjin. If he’s put out by your rudeness he doesn’t show it, drinking heartily from his tankard and watching you with dark, even eyes. 

You know Seokjin knows whatever it is his father and Namjoon have been talking about. You yourself have not been able to work out what’s going on in the village, but you’re sure the Kims know. And if Dr. Kim asked you to lie to the constable… well perhaps Seokjin is leading him astray as well.

Hoseok pipes up, steering the conversation everywhere he can to avoid the tension building between you and Seokjin and the topics of murders. You participate as little as possible, mind trying to put together the puzzle pieces of the blooming mystery in your home. 

An uncomfortable thought starts to take root in your mind. Is it possible that the Kim family is behind the murders? Dr. Kim has plenty of weapons at his disposal, and they had been talking about revenge, and Dr. Kim had covered up what happened at the Marrow’s farm… but what did that have to do with wolves?

You’re not sure. But you do know that the Kims are purposefully hiding things, that there is a murderer somewhere in the town or near it, and that there is a sense of doom that you cannot shake, a dark itch like stinging nettle in your bones. 

Seokjin excuses himself to take an afternoon nap before his hunting party heads out for the evening. Your eyes track him as he goes. Seokjin certainly doesn’t seem evil, but there’s no telling what’s behind his pretty face. 

“What is wrong with you?” Hoseok asks, leaning over the table and whispering harshly. “You’re behaving rather odd.”

“Something is going on.”

“Yes, your attitude.”

You turn and glare at him. “No, Hobi. Something is going on with the Kim family. I don’t know how to explain it.” You grip your cup tighter. “But I intend to figure it out.” 

Hoseok questions you about what that means. You keep your answers vague, not wanting to rope him into your plan. Too often as children did you lure Hoseok into trouble, and with how dangerous night is becoming in your town, you know it’s a bad idea to endanger him too.

T sun sets over the village. You stand at your bedroom window, watching through the frosty window as the sun turns the sky into a smear of blood. The clouds have cleared away just for this sanguine sunset. It makes your stomach turn, a sense of foreboding heavy in the air.

Still, it doesn’t deter you. Red fades to gray-blue and gray-blue fades to black. Wind rattles the glass in the window pane. Turning from the window, you find your thickest pair of pants and fur-lined tunic. The fabric feels scratchy on your skin.

Dressed, you look at your red cloak folded on the bed. Any other night you would take it with you. It has become your safety net, something that keeps you warm and keeps you safe. You cannot recall a day you haven’t worn it since it mysteriously showed up thirteen years ago, but tonight, you need obscurity.

Instead, you reach for an old, thick cloak that used to belong to your father. It's dark brown and worn at the edges, a little too big for you as the hem brushes the ground. It will serve its purpose in keeping you hidden in the dark of the woods, though. 

All you grab is a hunting knife that you don’t know how to use, a wax candle, and a solid piece of flint and sharp rock to light it with. The candle and flint are for emergencies only. You hope it won’t be so dark that you cannot see, but you’re unsure what the clouds are going to do.

Outside, the wind is sharp. Your nostrils burn as you breathe it in and duck away behind your house. No new snow has fallen during the day, which is a good thing. You don’t have to worry about dragging your boots and tiring your calves. It also helps that the sky is clear tonight, the moon a sliver of sharp light. 

Baying hounds echo through the village and the forest as the hunting dogs lead the men into the woods. You’re quick on your feet, dashing into the woods and heading north. You don’t want to run right into the hunting party, but you do want to find their burning torches and keep them in your line of sight.

They are easy to find, hovering like orange fireflies in the distance. Careful to make your way in the dark, you follow them. Your breath mists in front of you, hands shaking more from the adrenaline than the cold. 

The torches spread out. You chew on your lip, unsure which group would belong to Seokjin. You take a gamble, heading after the group closest to you. 

Everything feels too loud. Each snap of a branch under your foot and crunch of dry leaves feels like it’s going to give you away. Still, you’re good at sneaking for the most part, having spent plenty of time skulking through the village to take nightly strolls in the woods.

Voices carry to you. Through a system of running a few steps forward and dodging behind a tree, you manage to follow the men at a distance. You think that you hear the constable’s voice, which is a good sign. If he’s around, perhaps Seokjin is too.

The deeper you go into the forest, the colder it gets. The ground beneath your feet slopes. The evergreens are packed tighter here, needles tickling your hands as you keep your hands held out from your sides as you slide downward.

This is near where I saved that wolf, you think. 

It’s true. You recognize the slope of the land and the general area. You cannot tell if it’s exactly where you met the wolf, but it’s close enough that your senses tingle and your eyes sweep the land, expecting something to happen.

A sense of foreboding trails you as the men move deeper into the wood. You turn around and look for the other torches and see nothing but a dark, compact forest. Your stomach flips uncomfortably but you continue, unsure now if it’s safer to turn back or to keep going. 

Ahead, the group of men decide to take a break. The hounds sniff the area around them, pulling at the leashes as they go. Crouching low, you watch as the hounds go in circles, following the scent of something that seems to confuse them. 

The men take long droughts of water, making you wish you’d thought of that. Mouth dry and hands cold, you huddle against a tree, bark digging into your back. 

A few minutes pace by. You close your eyes, resting your head against the tree, breathing cold air in deeply. You don’t know what you expect the group to lead you to, only that you-

Something snaps behind you. Your eyes fly open and your limbs lock. Heart beating like a steady drum, you hold your breath and strain your eyes. For a moment, there’s nothing but the dim voices of the men taking a break. You think it’s nothing until you hear something again, a gentle susurration of leaves. 

One of the hounds lifts its head, ears twitching. Your eyes scan the surrounding area back and forth, searching for what you know is there. 

It happens so fast that you don’t even see the wolves enter the ring of torchlight until they’re there, snarls rattling the trees. You clamp your hands over your mouth to mute your gasp as the sounds of screams and tearing flesh explode in the night. Hounds screech, their growls savage and choked as the wolves descend. 

You don’t know how many there are. Torch lights go down and drown you in darkness. Squeezing your eyes shut, you curl in on yourself, panting through your hands as the sounds echo in your ears. A new fear has stabbed its way between your ribs, making it hard to breathe. 

Time moves slowly. Or quickly. You cannot tell which. One moment the sounds of a nightmare turned real are just a few hundred yards away. The next, an eerie silence blankets the dark forest. 

You don’t want to open your eyes, but you have to. Very slowly, you crack an eye open. At first, there’s nothing. Your vision swims with flashing colors, your eyes trying to adjust. Then, there is the vague outline of trees. Ahead of you, where the men had been, lay shadowed piles. 

Shaking, you glance around. You see nothing - hear nothing. You stand slowly. Each inch you gain feels like you’re being too loud. Sweat gathers on the back of your neck. The cool air makes it feel like an icy finger brushing down your nape. 

When you’re sure that there’s nothing else around, you take a step toward where the attack happened. Leaves crunch beneath your feet. You stop breathing, waiting for signs of anything. Nothing happens and you let out a trembling breath, taking one more step. Again, you wait to see if your footfalls will trigger something. 

You repeat this to the edge of the slaughter - for that’s what it is. A slaughter. Bile rises in your throat as you reach the first body and stamped-out torch. The constable and his hound lay in tatters, only recognizable by the batch on his cloak. 

It is carnage. You don’t dare breathe through your nose for fear of breathing in the scent of death, circling the scene with weak knees, hand pressed to your mouth to keep in the whimpers. You see the faces of men you’ve known since you were a child. Ripped, bloodied, gored. 

Finally, you lean over and empty the contents of your stomach. It burns on the way up, choking you. Pressing a hand against a tree, you breathe raggedly. The adrenaline coursing through you makes you twitchy and unstable, each nerve feeling like it’s on fire. 

Leaves crunch a few feet away. Your head snaps in and you zero in on the source of the noise, mouth hanging open when you see Seokjin standing amongst the trees. He stares at you, frown on his face. 

“Who are you?” he asks, voice gentle. You realize he can’t see your face under the cowl of your hood and you’re not in your traditional red. He sighs. “Doesn’t matter.” 

You hear shuffling behind him before you see a white wolf. The white wolf from the Marrow farm. There are others, then. You don’t know how you missed them, the darkness of their fur blending in with the darkness around them.

The white one is spotted in red, muzzle matted, teeth slicked. Your stomach lurches. It isn’t hard to guess where it’s from. You take a step back and the wolf growls, lips pulled back. You freeze, looking amongst the pack of wolves that fan out around Seokjin, desperately looking for your wolf with the kind, intelligent eyes. 

You do not find him there. 

With a growl, the white wolf steps forward. Your instincts kick in and you turn and run, letting out a wild shriek as you do so. If Seokjin recognizes your voice when you scream, you cannot tell. The wolves are after you and you’re barreling through the trees with no hope of outrunning them, especially uphill.

A wolf nips at your ankle and you scream, tripping over your feet in your terror and going down hard. You’re jarred as you hit the ground, bones rattling as pain shoots up your limbs from the impact. Before you can scramble, there are teeth around your ankle, not biting down hard enough to snap, but hard enough to drag.

Your scream is wretched even to your ears. It is a curdling, nightmarish sound. You feel the scrape of leaves and sticks against your skin, cloak picking up dirt and twigs as you go. Your nails dig into the ground but the soil is frozen solid, fingers scraping bluntly against it. 

With a surge of self-preservation, you kick your free leg backward as hard as you can. You hit the wolf in the muzzle, making it cry, and let go of your foot. You manage to crawl to your knees, slipping in the foliage as you try to stand before it’s tearing at your cloak, determined to drag you one way or another. 

Sliding again as it drags you by the cloak, you try to undo the ties at your throat with shaking fingers. It comes away and frees you from the hellish drag to your death. This time, you’re faster to your feet, turning and running in the opposite direction. You don’t know where you’re going, just that you want to get away. 

Your foot slides on the incline and with a shout you go down. This time, your head hits the ground hard. Your ears ring and your vision pulses. Blinking, you roll over and stare up at the canopy of dark trees. The world spins dangerously and you feel nausea churn deep in your stomach.

“Yoongi!” you hear the deep voice but it sounds warbled like you’re hearing it through water. Your head lolls to the side, the ringing in your ears still going as you see feet pass you. “Enough!”

Your field of vision narrows to a sharp point, edges pulling with black. You realize you’re about to pass out, oddly just thankful that you’re already on the ground. Just as your world begins to face, the face of the person in front of you appears.

Namjoon. 

-

“Hey,” a gentle voice calls to you. There are soft hands on your head, brushing against your forehead. It smells like pine and bergamot as you snuggle into them. “I hate to wake you, but you need to wake up every few hours.”

The memory of the wolves comes to you. Your eyes snap open and you blink a few times before your vision adjusts to see Namjoon leaning over you. Cringing away from him, you press yourself into a warm, soft mattress that isn’t your own.

“Easy,” he cautions, holding his hands up. “You smacked your head very hard. I think you have a concussion.” 

“Where am I?” 

The room isn’t so much a room as it is a shack. There is a single fireplace in the far corner, a pile of logs, and the bed that you’re in. Despite the tiny space, it looks well-built and it’s warm, your heart slowing down as Namjoon leans to sit further from you and give you your space.

“Random shack in the woods near your village. I think it used to be a hunter’s stead for the winter.” He jerks his thumb toward the fireplace. “Hasn’t been used in a while. The wood has rotted.” 

“Seokjin - you - what is going on?” 

Emotions spill out of you like a broken dam. You don’t know which to acknowledge first: anger, fear, curiosity, gratitude. 

Namjoon’s sigh is heavy. He visibly looks wearing, running a hand through his hair. You wonder how soft his hair is, followed immediately by feeling ridiculous for the timing of said thought. 

“Just…” he winces. “Try to lean back and take it easy, I’m worried about how hard you hit your head. I promise I have no intentions of hurting you or letting anyone hurt me.”

“You called that white wolf Yoongi. Who is Yoongi? Why was Seokjin in the woods - those people - they’re dead.”

He nods slowly. “They are.” 

You lean back carefully. The bed is comfortable and Namjoon keeps his distance, worried eyes on you. “I will try to explain the best I can. It will require a little bit of faith that I’m not lying to you and that I’m not insulting your intelligence by telling you things that will sound insane.” 

“Like what?”

“Like werewolves exist.”

You stare at him. He doesn’t laugh, crack a grin, or do anything to make you believe he’s joking. Your first instinct is to blow him off. Werewolves were a tale for children and a way to help the children of the village cope during periods of wolf violence. 

Thus far, all Namjoon has done is protect you. Strange as it seems, you know that fact to be true. He didn’t tell Dr. Jim you were eavesdropping, he kept you company after Mr. Hatch’s murder, and he stopped the wolves from taking you.

Namjoon is… there is something between you. You know it.

Hesitantly, you say, “Alright. Werewolves exist. Keep going.”

He is visibly relieved that you’re not questioning or berating him. You don’t exactly believe him yet, but you want to hear his story. 

“There were communities of werewolves who lived here long before humans did. When people migrated to this area, they drove them out and forced those communities to become smaller and smaller. When the werewolves asked for their land back or to share resources, they were hunted and slaughtered.” 

Namjoon’s throat bobs and emotions flicker across his face. His features settle on pain, and you stop yourself from reaching out to take his hand. “What you vaguely remember as wolf attacks and wolf hunts as a child was those families being exterminated. There are a few families in the village who remember that werewolves exist. They took it upon themselves to remove the problem forever.”

This village has a complicated history. 

Dr. Kim’s words float through your mind as you chew on what Namjoon has told you. He lets the information settle, giving you a few moments to think. You don’t recall anyone seriously ever talking about werewolves but… 

“They’re angry,” you murmur, remembering how San described the massacre at the Mathesons. “The wolves now - those aren’t wolves. They’re werewolves who are getting revenge. You spoke of revenge with Dr. Kim. Is that why the animal attacks have been happening?”

Namjoon nods grimly. “There is a very small concentration of people in the village who keep the secret about the massacres and the knowledge of werewolves. Those families have been… targeted recently. They still hunt werewolves when they can.”

“Who is Yoongi?”

“Ah,” he lets out a humorless laugh. “He leads the last remaining community of werewolves. His family was murdered by your constable when he was a child.” You blanch. “Yoongi is angry, vengeful, and very influential. When he was voted pack alpha, he decided to eliminate the last remaining threats.” 

“He’s the white wolf.” Namjoon raises his brows but nods. You think that makes sense, remembering the white wolf at the Marrow farm and the one who dragged you in the forest. “Why was Seokjin there? Did he lead the constable to-”

Namjoon hesitates and nods. “The Kim family are wolf friends. It’s largely the reason Dr. Kim is a veterinarian. They’re what we call one foot in the forest. There were two others in your village that were wolf friends. Your neighbor was one.”

You twist your fingers in the blanket. “Did Yoongi-”

“No. I believe he was murdered by one of the men who knows what Yoongi and his people are.” 

“So that’s why Seokjin led them to Yoongi?” Namjoon gives a curt nod. “This is…. A lot to take in.” 

“It is. Sleep a little more and we’ll talk about it more when you wake up. Your head is already swimming enough, yeah?”

Namjoon’s grin is gentle and you shoot one back. “Do you promise to tell me why you’re really here? And why it feels like I know you?”

“Of course. Sleep, Red.”

-

Namjoon wakes you again a few hours later. This time, it’s with water. It’s cool and fresh, soothing your aching head and waking up your sleepy senses. He lets you drain the entire thing, sitting thoughtfully at the end of your bed. 

This time, you feel more alert. Sitting up carefully, you cross your legs and examine him. He’s dressed in simple clothes and a jacket, the fireplace throwing an orange glow on his face. Again, you’re struck with how much you could swear you know him, like his eyes are something you know and love. 

He waits for you to get settled, placing your hands in your lap. You fiddle with the edge of your tunic, drinking him in. Strong shoulders, rough hands, tawny skin. Your heart does a flip before you shove away thoughts of how pretty he is to think about what he’s told you so far.

“I have questions.”

He smiles and it’s as warm as the fire behind him. “Of course you do.”

“Did the werewolves kill my father?”

You get the tough one out of the way first. It was a thought you had just before you slept, wondering if your father had been someone who helped the constable murder Yoongi’s family. Though you have decided to dislike the white wolf very strongly, you can’t help but pity him.

“No,” Namjoon says vehemently. “After you told me about your father, I did some asking around. He was a wolf friend. That’s why he didn’t hunt big game, Red. He knew about us.” 

A tight feeling works its way up your throat. The relief and anger you feel is a double-edged sword, happy that he didn’t contribute to the displacement Namjoon is speaking of and angry that you know with every bone in your body that he was murdered. The instinct speaks to you the same way it tells you that you know Namjoon. 

You look up at him sharply, realizing something. “What do you mean ‘he knew about us’? Us?” 

Namjoon’s eyes are dark. He regards you intensely, making you shiver. Slowly, Namjoon begins to roll one of his sleeves. Your eyes drop to his hand as he does, long fingers meticulous. He bares his skin and holds his hand out to you, displaying the jagged, white scar that lopes around his wrist. 

Without thinking twice, you reach out to him, pulling his hand toward you. His skin is warm, sending a tingle through your fingertips. His palm is large and rough, your fingers delicate as you flip it to face the ceiling, eyes glued to the scarring around his wrist.

You move your fingers over his palm gently, scraping the calluses as you go. He lets you do what you want, touch stopping at his wrist bone before glancing up at him. His eyes are impossibly dark and he nods, urging you forward. 

The scarring is rough. Thick, ropey lines encircle his wrist like his hand was ravished by teeth. It makes you faintly think of Yoongi’s teeth around your ankle or -

“You,” you breathe, eyes meeting his. They are the same warm, intelligent, and welcoming eyes of the wolf you’d saved all those years ago. The wolf who had stood between you and the others at the Marrow farm. The wolf you dream about every night. “I saved you?”

His throat bobs. “You did.”

“I… that’s why it feels like I know you.” Your fingers trace his scar, almost fondly. Namjoon’s eyes flutter. “I do know you. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He smirks. “‘Hi, my name is Namjoon and I can turn into a wolf whenever I want and you saved me a few years ago and I’ve been thinking about you ever since’ is not exactly a great opening.” 

“Better than ‘you know most people who don’t want to be seen don’t wear a red cloak’.” He scrunches his nose. Cute. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s alright. I’ll talk if you’re willing to listen?”

You nod, not letting go of his hand. Now that you know who and what he is, any residual fear is gone. You scoot toward him, wanting to be closer. “I want to know.”

“Giho is my uncle like I said. He’s not a werewolf, though. That trait passed through my mom’s side of the family. Still, he was family and he knew about the werewolves that my father married into. He's a wolf friend and does what he can to help us, including making house calls and stealing us goods in harsh winters.”

“Huh. I always just thought he was a quiet, grumpy vet.”

“He is very much that, but he has also been a lifeline. He helps Yoongi far more than he should. It puts him in danger. His wife was killed for being a wolf friend. Giho was left alone simply because he is useful to the village.” Your fingers squeeze his hand at the hurt in his voice. “That night you found me… I was pretty young then. Fourteen, to be exact. I was nosing around the village that everyone was so afraid of and never saw the trap. I cannot emphasize how much you saved my life.” 

“It seemed like the right thing to do. I was afraid but you were… hurt. And your eyes were so kind. I don’t regret it.”

“What a relief.” You smile, genuinely happy. “I was worried you might after finding out my family were sort of… killing people.”

“When you put it that way,” you wince. “But I do believe you. That humans drove you out. That people are hurting you and your people. You don’t deserve it and I… don’t think I am in a position to offer moral arguments to what you’re doing.”

“I knew I liked you.”

“You barely know me.”

Namjoon turns his hand and catches yours, lacing your fingers. Your heart skitters as he pulls you a little close and leans, eyes narrowed playfully. “Hmm, sorry. I wasn’t really allowed to come hang out around your town, Little Red.” 

“Why did you finally come? Is it to help Yoongi?”

He shakes his head. “I only have one goal.”

“Which is?”

“To keep you safe.” That quiets you. Namjoon doesn’t meet your eyes when he continues, “You showed me such kindness, I just wanted to repay you. I liked to keep an eye on you when I could, always from a safe distance. You might not know me, but I grew up knowing you.”

Your mouth goes dry at his words. For someone who poses such a threat, Namjoon is gentle. Soft. Kind. You swallow past the lump in your throat. “Did you give me the red cloak?” 

“Yeah. It was to mark you as a friend. We give them to those who are under our protection.” He narrows his eyes. “Which is why Yoongi swears he didn’t know it was you in the woods tonight. Seokjin’s eyesight is too piss poor to realize it was you. Idiots.”

“Well if you know about me, tell me about you. What’s your favorite color? What do you like to eat? What's your favorite thing about being a wolf?”

So Namjoon does tell you. You both end up sitting on the bed next to one another, arms touching as he traces the lines on your palm. Your backs are pressed against the wall, feet dangling off the edge of his bed as he tells you about his childhood. 

It is fascinating hearing about the dynamics of his community but it’s also sad. Hearing how they live in fear, hearing how so many of the people he knows are gone. Realizing that the things he tells you match up with things you realize about your own community. 

Sadness sinks to the bottom of your gut like a rock. It isn’t pity that you feel, but something far more profound. It’s regret that you didn’t know any better. Frustration that he has suffered. A radical feeling of anger and desire for justice knowing you lived in comfort while Namjoon and his family suffered. 

There are good parts, too. Namjoon recalls happy moments and blushes when he recalls seeing you a few times. It doesn’t feel weird or strange, knowing someone was looking out for you. It feels comforting, like old friends catching up. 

Namjoon’s eyes sparkle as he tells you about his favorite books. You don’t know when you stop listening to him and start staring, but it’s inevitable. You love the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, dimple making an appearance as he recalls a story about putting Yoongi in the dirt with his brother, Taehyung’s help. You love the way he gestures wildly with his hands, every word evocative and enthusiastic. 

He’s the kind of person you would have been friends with had he grown up with you. And maybe a little more, you think, watching Namjoon watch you. His gaze is even and heated, making you squirm. His mouth twitches and you’re so sure that he knows he makes you nervous.

“I never thanked you,” you mention. He hums in question, letting you go back to tracing his scare delicately. He twitches and you grin. Good. “For saving me from the jaws of Yoongi.”

“Ah, that. I think he knew it was you. There’s a reason he dragged you instead of killing you on the spot.”

“Huh. Well, that’s very rude.”

“He’s good at that.”

“You sound fond, still.”

He nods. “I love Yoongi. Is my brother, in a way.”

“Well still. Thank you.” 

You look up at Namjoon. You’re sitting so close, shoulders pressed against one another. He smells like pine and bergamot, your favorite scent. It’s heady, awakening a foreign ache in you. Your heart speeds up as you lean into him just a little more, watching him through your lashes.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he rumbles, voice deep. 

Your toes curl. “Like what?” 

“LIke you wanna do more than just thank me.”

“Maybe I do.”

“I know.” 

Ah. You start to pull away and turn your head, realizing that he’s not interested, but Namjoon catches your chin with his other hand, tilting you back toward him. Your heart stalls when he looks down at your mouth, then back up to your eyes. “I’ve known you for all my life. Not how I wanted, but I’ve known you nonetheless. But you haven’t had the chance to know me.”

“I want to. I feel like I have known you. Like I knew you were always there.”

“Is this what you want?”

This. Namjoon. Whatever is crackling between you. The thing that has sparked since the moment he caught you eavesdropping. It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t have to make sense. 

Namjoon makes sense though. The way his gaze softens when he sees you. The way he looms on the edge of your life, a silent protector. The way he could do so much damage but is soft instead. The way everything about him feels like the sun on a summer day, like a field of wildflowers in spring.

He must sense you tipping over the edge. His grip on your chin becomes firm and he tilts your face toward him, leaning down to press his warm, full mouth against yours. The effect is instantaneous. You melt into him, sighing as a feeling of belonging slots into place.

The kiss is chaste. Namjoon pulls away and your lashes flutter. You hadn’t even realized your eyes closed. His gaze is dark and half-lidded, his face close enough that you feel his breath. His lips have stoked a fire in you and you want more, you want to spill out the years of longing for something you didn’t know was there, for the sudden confirmation that he’d been there all along.

Surging forward, you press your lips to his again. This time, it’s searing, your mouth fierce as you push up off of the bed. Namjoon falls in your rhythm easily, hand leaving your chin to grab you by the waist and pull you into his lap.

Knees slotted on either side of him, you pour everything you have into the kiss. Your fingers card through his thick hair, silky strands sliding between them like you knew they would. His lips are soft on yours, mouth warm as you break the seal of the kiss with your tongue.

Namjoon lets out deep, throaty sounds. It coaxes the flame inside of you to a roar, tongue tangling with his. It’s wet and messy and a little impractical but you don’t feel embarrassed or nervous. It’s Namjoon. It feels like home. 

Pleasure tingles down your spine. Namjoon grips your hips, fingers digging into your flesh. It feels hot and your skin is burning up, static trapped between your chests where they’re pressed together. Your hips twitch, tentatively seeking friction in his lap. Namjoon responds immediately, pulling your hips toward him and letting you roll. 

Your mouths part but Namjoon doesn’t stop kissing you. You pant while he presses his mouth to your chin and jawline, tongue tough against the softness of your skin. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he growls. You tilt your head back, letting him pepper your throat. “You have no idea.”

“I always felt like something was missing. I think it was you.”

Namjoon moans at your admission. The heat between your legs is almost painful. One of Namjoon’s hands goes from your waist to between your legs, cupping you. You gasp back bowing as he presses firmly, deft fingers providing mind-numbing pleasure.

“That feels good.” You fist the collar of his shirt and squeeze your eyes. You feel tense, color exploding behind your closed lids. “Don’t stop.”

“Whatever you want,” he whispers. He pulls you in close, fingers curling. Your hips buck and you realize it isn't enough. You need the barrier of clothes gone. You want it more than anything. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Yes.”

You do know. It’s second nature. You knew even that day in the street when you’d first seen him. Just like Namjoon knows what you want and need, land leaving the apex of your thighs to help you off his lap and onto the bed under him. 

There’s a confidence in his movements that makes the room spin. Long forgotten are the wolf attacks and Yoongi’s teeth around your ankle. Here, it’s only the rasp of your pants against your skin as Namjoon pulls them down. It’s only the heat of his skis as you yank on his tunic, desperate to feel him.

Namjoon does run hot. His skin is burning up as your hands explore his firm chest. He captures your lips again, sucking your bottom lip in his mouth as he spreads your legs open with a knee. You shake under his touch, equal parts eager and stimulated. 

He’s so, so gentle as he caresses your inner thigh. When he brings his fingers to your sticky center, you let out a pitiful whine. Namjoon pauses, fingers pressed to your swollen kiss as he laughs and breaks the kiss, forehead pressed against yours.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout, leaning your head up to bite his chin. “It feels good.”

He gives you a quick kiss. Once. Twice. “Good. I want to make you feel good.” 

Namjoon circles his middle finger lazily around your clit. Your feet press into the bed, hips pulling up off the sheets. It feels amazing, pleasure sparking in your stomach. “That,” you gasp. “I like that.” 

He dips his head down, attaching his mouth to your neck as he teases your cunt. You don’t have to say anything else, Namjoon’s inquisitive fingers learning what makes you squirm and sigh. You’re a mess beneath him, chest heavy, beats of sweat making your shirt cling to you.

You claw at it, pulling it away from you. Namjoon leans up and lets you take it off, eyes dipping as he smiles appreciatively. He combines the efforts of his fingers with his mouth, bending low to catch a pert nipple with his teeth.

“Shit!” you squeak, making him chuckle again.

His fingers circle your clenching hole, pussy leaking onto his fingers. He presses a finger in and you let out a long, quiet whine. The feeling of his finger pressing against your walls is perfect, your cunt clenching as he shallowing thrusts the finger.

Everything he does is perfect. He sucks at your nipple hungrily as he fingers you slowly, making sure to press up inside your cunt in a way that has you seeing stars. Your fingers tangle in his hair, unable to think about anything except his teeth scraping your sensitive bud and your pussy clenching around his finger.

Namjoon is attentive. The heel of his hand presses to your clit and he eases another finger in, slower than the last. He looks up at you, mouth slick with spit to watch your mouth fall open. You nod, urging him further, sound stuck in your throat. 

The wet squelch between your legs as he fucks you with his fingers is obscene. You like it though, driven by the fact that it’s Namjoon doing it. Namjoon who you saved. Namjoon who watched over you. 

You open your eyes and look up at him, cradling his face in your hands. His forehead is damp with sweat from the heat building in the little shack. His skin is flushed and his hair hangs in his face. You pull at his bottom lip with your thumb and he gazes at you, hungry and wild, pupils blown.

Greedy, you pull him to you. The kiss is more teeth than lips, the two of you panting. Your leg hooks around his waist and you nibble his bottom lip, hips rolling to meet his thrusts, an orgasm starting its ascent. 

“I want you,” you breathe against his mouth. Your lips are sore from arduous kissing. “Please.”

He kisses you. “Okay.”

It’s that simple. You ask for it and he gives it to you.

Namjoon retracts his fingers from your cunt. You feel the sudden loss, fidgeting as you wait. He makes quick work of his pants, kneeling on the bed and bringing his hands covered in your juice to pump his cock. You feel your eyes bulge at his thick length. 

He notices and grins, slowing his movements. You watch as his hand smears precum down his shaft, twisting lightly as he gets to the top, his thumb brushing over his dark tip. “You can take it,” he pants, grinning wolfishly. “I know you can.”

Instead of answering, you nod, lifting your hips eagerly. He hums, pleased as he lets go, cock bobbing heavily while he shuffles over and leans over you. He places his hands on either side of your head, arms flexing as he holds his weight to bend down and steal a quick kiss. 

You kiss back feverishly, one hand traveling between your sweaty bodies to grip his length, trying to stroke him the way he did. He sighs, breaking the kiss and dropping his forehead against your chin as a shiver ripples through him. You smile, continuing to pump him.

“Want to be inside,” he mumbles, barely coherent. 

You open yourself up more, gently guiding the blunt crown of his cock toward your trembling entrance. You hold your breath as his hips follow your hand, breaching your ring of tight muscles and pushing in. 

Immediately your muscles spasm and resist, overwhelmed by Namjoon’s girth. You blow out a long breath as he enters you so, so slowly. It’s heaven and it’s hell, it’s pleasure and it’s pain. Namjoon presses his mouth to you, tongue distracting you as he bottoms out, stuffing you full.

Nothing has ever compared to how stretched you are. He doesn’t move, letting your cunt twitch around him. He holds himself up with one hand, the other brushing up and down your side, squeezing bits of flesh comfortingly as you try to still your beating heart under him.

The pain fades. You get greedy, wiggling your hips back and forth experimentally to feel the way Namjoon’s cock rubs against your walls. He blows out air sharply, a half laugh before his hand drops down to your hip, pushing you down into the bed with his weight as he slides backward.

“Ohhhh,” you sigh, head lolling to the side. The pressure of Namjoon pressing you down as he sets a slow pace of fucking into you is just right. You close your eyes, letting him set a slow pace in silence. “Yeah.” 

Namjoon’s breath is unsteady. Every little sound he makes sets you on fire. You’re pliant beneath him as he picks up his speed, properly fucking into you. One of your hands reaches up to grab his bicep, nails digging in, the other shooting to his hand on your hip, squeezing his wrist. 

Everything feels right. Connected. Overheated. The air is so thick you think you might suffocate, sheets sticking to your balmy skin, toes curling as Namjoon’s cock hits that spot inside of you that drives you mad. 

Nothing but this matters. Nothing but knowing your wolf isn’t really a wolf at all, and that he’s been there all along. Just like you’d hoped. 

“Fuck,” Namjoon pants. “I never dreamed I’d have you.”

“I dreamed of you,” you gasp on a particularly hard thrust, your nails dragging down his arm. “I just didn’t know it.”

His mouth crashes to yours. “Mine,” he growls. “My savior, mine to protect.” 

Your orgasm spins like an out-of-control spool of thread, winding tighter and tighter. Namjoon can tell, chasing your orgasm with reckless abandon, throwing his gentle movements out the window and fucking you hard into the bed. 

The sounds and words coming out of your mouth are useless babble, your thoughts turning murky as that spool tightens so much inside of you that it bursts, unspooling and spilling out of you around Namjoon’s cock. 

You can’t even breathe as you come, feet kicking, nails digging into his skin, teeth clenched. Your heart beats in your ears, the only thing you can hear for a few seconds as you spasm, eyes clenched shut. You are vaguely aware of Namjoon coming shortly after you, your name ripping through clenched teeth as he does. 

There are a few minutes of nothing punctuated by your stilted breathing and rapid pulse. Finally, you blink, stars swimming in your eyes as you look at Namjoon, who hangs his head on your chest. You reach a hand up and run your fingers through his sweaty hair.

Your wolf. Somehow you’d always known it. Even when you thought you were crazy. 

Gently, Namjoon pulls out of you, fluid spilling between your legs. You don’t care, limbs too heavy to move. Your skin is still burning up from exertion and you roll your head to the side to watch Namjoon as he lays next to you, pulling you toward him. 

For a little while, it’s quiet. You listen to the beating of his heart, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. You’re content just to lay there feeling whole just for once. 

After a while, Namjoon sighs. “You have to go back eventually.”

“We.”

“Hmm?”

“We have to go back.”

Namjoon pulls away and frowns at your tone, eyes reading your face. Your mouth is set in a firm line and you look at him with all seriousness. “We’re not letting them get away with what the humans did to you and your family.”

“You want to help?”

“Yes.” You pause. “I think it’s what my father would have wanted. It’s what I want. Even if Yoongi bit me.”

“Yoongi will never bite you again,” he vows fiercely. Then, a little more gently, “But he… would be glad to hear your sympathetic stance. I’m glad to hear it, Red.”

“Good.” You snuggle closer. “You’re mine to protect too. And I will make them pay.”

For Namjoon. For your father. You’ll paint the village red. 

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

How You Turn My Word; Chapter 2

The day continues, and this time you find yourself in an entire new world... a world called The Underground.

Character; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, more shenanigans, reader isn't happy

Content Warning; Intoxication (Lilia), swearing

Word Count; 2.7 K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Don't put my work into AI; I'll make sure you end up in the Bog of Eternal Stench.

Lilia’s night was not going according to plan and he was mentally cursing himself over it.

Thing Lilia did not plan for #1; he got lost. To be fair though, many a thing had drastically changed since the last time he romped around the mortal realm. A few hundred years would do that though. Humans now seemed to live in tall metal boxes rather than the humble cottages of ages past. 

Thing Lilia did not plan for #2; a red flower deceiving him and containing something akin to liquor. So he was flying around lost while under the influence, which only worsened his situation. (Lilia did not know it, but the red flower was in fact a hummingbird feeder with sugar water which had been left out in the sun for too long and had fermented. Make sure to change your hummingbird feeder often on hot days so you don’t cause a nectar-loving friend to fly while wasted) 

Thing Lilia did not plan for #3; getting himself stuff in one of those tall metal boxes, and he was now stuck inside some cursed metal labyrinth. At least it was not iron or silver, as it did not burn, apparently, humans no longer fortified their abodes with those metals. Perhaps the times have changed for the better?

But Lilia finally escaped the infernal metal labyrinth, perhaps luck was finally on his side tonight after all! He bumped around a few corners. My my, what a small hovel. Perhaps things have not changed all that much from the last time I was here… But Lilia was rudely pulled from his thoughts when something swatted him clean out of the air. And the culprit? A rather rotund grey cat with large blue eyes, which was now carrying Lilia into its lair, most likely to play with him for a bit before deciding that it had had it’s fun and ultimately put him out of his misery.

His night went from a jolly and somewhat embarrassing tale he would regale about at the local tavern, to a bedtime story parents would tell their children about the dangers of going places that you really shouldn’t. Should he get out of this sticky situation Lilia would not live this incident down. 

The cat placed Lilia in a collection of socks and then sauntered off, calling out at the top of its lungs. Great, it's getting company for supper, and I’m the appetizer. How lovely. But Lilia knew he would have a better chance of getting out of this situation if he stayed calm and waited for an opportunity to escape. Even while tipsy, he could keep his cool.

And the feline was back and yanked Lilia out of the sock hole. Cracking open his one eye he saw that the cat did not come back with its hungry friends, but rather, a human. That was both good news and bad news. Good news; he most likely was not going to be eaten tonight! Yippee! Bad news; the last time he was in bat-form in a human’s abode, he was chased around with a torch, which he really did not want to go through again. So his best course of action was to play dead in this situation.

When the human left the room though, he took his chance and took flight once again, trying to find a way out. The cat was trying to catch him again, but Lilia knew of its tricks this time and dodged every swipe it sent his way.

But he was pulled out of his thoughts when the human screeched at the cat, “YOU CAUGHT A FUCKING BAT?!” 

Oh yeah, they did not sound happy, not at all, but it seemed to be directed more at their feline companion rather than him.

As he was busy flapping around, trying to find an escape but to no avail, he also heard the human whispering to him. “Don’t fly towards my head, bat. I’m just trying to get you back outside. You’re a nice bat, right? Nice bat, nice bat.”

Were he not preoccupied and in a better state of mind, Lilia would have been amused by this. Currently, though he was occupied with trying not to be eaten and finding a way out of this cursed place. He was not in a laughing mood. All Lilia wanted to do was get back home, pass out in his bed but he would also be happy with his sofa as well, and pretend that this was nothing more than a bad dream after a night spent tavern hopping. Dealing with a horrid hangover would be better than this… and he was most likely going to have one of those anyways. Tonight really wasn’t Lilia’s night, not at all.

Then the human grabbed the cat, and Lilia was finally left alone. The window was open, but he didn’t know that, as his mind was too preoccupied with you know, not dying, that he hadn’t noticed that the human had opened it for him. So where did Lilia go? Well, he went back into the metal labyrinth (air duct), and fumbled around until he tired himself out. It wasn’t the most ideal of spots to crash for the night, but it was better than going back and possibly being eaten, Lilia would rather avoid that. So this was going to be his bed for the night, a lonely quiet corner of the air duct system, where he could hopefully wake up sober tomorrow. But he yearned for his warm quilts that awaited for him back at home, back in Faerie, or as some call it, the Underground.

Lilia wasn’t even supposed to be in the mortal realm in the first place, but curiosity had won him over, and he even ignored the travel advisory that was in place. Some crow fae had travelled there about a century or so ago and had yet to return back, hence a travel advisory. But yet here he was in the mortal realm, tiny, drunk, and utterly lost. His bad decisions could be looked into further detail once he got some shut-eye. So he wrapped himself in his wings and passed out in the corner of the air vent. Hopefully, when he woke up he could turn this disastrous day around.

…

Upon waking up, Lilia groaned — or rather, in this case, squeaked — and stretched his wings out. So the wretched metal maze and last night's fiasco was not some liquor-hazed dream; how lovely. Utterly delightful.

At least the strange maze echoed sound quite well, so he knew what exits to avoid. Not that one, he could hear a dog barking, and the feline encounter was enough for him. No, not that one either, he could hear children screaming.

Finally, he came to an opening, there was some quiet chatter, but it was far enough away where Lilia felt comfortable enough to explore this potential escape route. 

Why does this look familiar? AM I BACK IN THE BUILDING?! Yes, yes he was. At least there was no sign of the ca–

“Mrp?” Speak of the devil.

The cat got out of its den and lept at Lilia, who dodged the attack, and the cat pushed some books off a desk. The cat was also screaming at him, and causing an all-around ruckus. Lilia managed to outmaneuver the feline, but soon a brand new human came into the scene.

The new human took one look at Lilia and backpedalled out of the room. But the human had just created another escape route for him, and Lilia flew, well, like a bat straight out of hell for it. Too bad the next room contained two more humans, including the one he had encountered from last night… maybe they would be nice again and spare him for trespassing on their small abode?

In the midst of the chaos, the human from last night knocked him out of the air with a broom. Okay, that hurt little Beastie. But that swing and the crash landing into a table caused Lilia to shift back into his human form, which also caused sparkles to happen. Did humans still think magic was evil? Well, he was about to find out.

Everyone remained silent, and after the sheer noise of the chaos, it was deafening, even the cat was quiet. And Lilia stared at the human that had knocked him out of the air, you. And you were staring straight back at him, looking utterly baffled. Well, this is awkward… I think I have overstayed my welcome… 

Lilia snapped his fingers, and he started to disappear into sparkles yet again, this time going home since he wasn’t able to use his magic when stuck in bat form. And it was happening without a pinch, but you seemed to trip on thin air and crash landed on his feet, disappearing with him; a stowaway coming to Faerie. 

… Well this is no good now, is it?

…

…

…

 When the green sparkles subsided, you found yourself sitting in some sort of bog, and the water had made it into your mouth by some twist of fate. While you were busy spitting the bog water out of your mouth, the stranger was standing by the bank, dry, without any sulfuric-tasting water in his mouth, and looking better for wear.

Pulling yourself out of the bog water — eugh, you smelled like eggs now, great — you pointed an accusatory finger at him, water dripping from the end. “Where,” you spat out some extra bog water from your mouth, “am I? And why does it reak of eggs?!” You would have looked and sounded more imposing, but you were sopping wet, covered in mud, and spitting out coughs trying to get the bad taste out of your mouth; which wasn’t really commanding any sort of respect.

The stranger, Lilia, snorted before letting out a cough, trying to hide his amusement very poorly. He waved his hand, green sparkles surrounded you and you were now dry, still covered in mud, but dry. “Faerie, although some call it the Underground.”

You opened your mouth, but he wagged his finger at you. “And before you blame me for bringing you here, you have no one to blame for this but yourself!” Despite the cheeriness, there was something cold and off putting in his eyes, like he was calculating something. But that moment passed, and the almost annoying cheerful facade came back in full. “As for the smell? That so happens to be The Bog of Eternal Stench!”

“Like eternal eternal?” You really didn’t need to smell like rotten eggs for the rest of your days.

The stranger just chuckled, “Fret not, Beastie, I decided to return the favour, since your feline friend decided not to eat me. But it is indeed ‘eternal eternal’ if you don’t have the means to get rid of it.”

Beastie? “Uh, okay.” not the most eloquent of things to say, but really, could anyone blame you? You just fell through some kind of portal, magic(?) was real, and oh yeah, so were fae/faeries or whatever the hell they called themselves. So ‘Uh, okay’ was perfectly fine in this situation.

Mr. Sparkles — if he was going to call you Beastie, he deserved a dumb nickname — just gave you a smile, exposing the barest hint of his fangs; despite his small frame, he was still dangerous, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. It was as if he was assessing you, to see if you would be worth the trouble to help. You didn’t know if either option would be good by the way his magenta eyes twinkled with mischief.

He let out a huff and started walking away, and you followed. “I wouldn’t recommend following me, Beastie,” he hummed, and you tripped over a rock, vines keeping you to the moss. “The court would not take kindly to you.” 

You glared at him and tried ripping the vines off of your feet, but they didn’t budge. “And why should I listen to you?” 

Mr. Sparkles booped you on the nose, “Well, it would ensure that you made it out of here alive, which I believe you would find beneficial and all.” 

Obnoxious prick. But he did have a point, you would rather make it back home alive rather than fucking around and finding out (aka dying). “So what? Are you going to just leave me here? No welcome brochure? Thanks.” 

You were being sarcastic, since it was either sarcasm or having a full-on existential crisis, since hey, magic wasn’t real in your world! Dimension? Galaxy? Where the fuck was this place?! How the hell did you end up here?!

“Hmm good point…” he snapped his fingers and there was now a book sitting in your lap. “This should suffice, do be warned though, Beastie, I may call on you later to return the favour. For now though,” he started to turn into green sparkles, “toodaloo!~” And he turned into a bat, flying off into the sunset, leaving you alone at the edge of the swamp with the only things to your name being the clothes on your back and a book in your lap.

How to Survive the Underground; For Humans! … Did he just give you this world’s equivalent of a For Dummies book? What the fuck? Was this kind of sick joke to him?

…

…

Once some of your ire had subsided, you decided to sit down on a boulder and read a bit of the book while there was still some sunlight out, but it was dipping into the horizon fast.

How to Survive the Underground; For Humans! By Yelworc Erid Preface …… i - iv Chapter 1; Surviving Your First Night…… 1 - 10 Chapter 2; Edible Food for Humans …… 11 - 31 Chapter 3; The Basics of Fae Etiquette …… 32 - 35 3.1; Species Specifics …… 36 - 146 3.2; Government Specifics …… 147 - 169 Chapter 4; Help! I Have Been Indentured to a Fae! …… 170 - 200 Chapter 5; Adjusting to Fae Social Life …… 201 - 224 Chapter 6; Transmittable Illnesses & Diseases …… 225 - 261 Chapter 7; Fae Courting Practices …… 262 - 264 7.1; Species Specifications …… 265 - 366 7.2; Government Specifications …… 367 - 389 7.3; Accepting a Courting Proposal …… 390 - 393 7.4; Refusing a Courting Proposal …… 394 - 401 Chapter 8; How to Handle Fae Children …… 402 - 452 Chapter 9; How to Leave the Underground … 453 Chapter 10; Adjusting to Life in the Underground …… 454 - 482 Acknowledgments …… 483 - 485

Looking back up to the horizon, you quickly turned the pages to Chapter 1; Surviving Your First Night.

“If you are unable to find yourself some suitable shelter, one should find themselves safe by camping out in a rowan tree. These trees can easily be found by their vermillion clusters of berries. They keep away all native species of the Underground,” you read out loud, turning your attention to the trees nearby, searching for those berries. “Rowan tree, rowan tree–”

A loud screech coming from the undergrowth only pushed you further. 

Nope, I do not want to find out what THAT was! Nope! NoPe! NOPE! 

Finally, you found a tall enough tree and you hauled your ass up it like there was a fire below you, and you were up in the canopy, far enough up that nothing could reach you, but also high enough where you needed to be careful, since you didn’t want to meet an early death because you made a wrong move. But for now, you were safe.

“Nice try buddy,” you muttered to yourself, trying to get comfy. Wood wasn’t the comfiest thing in the world, but you weren’t really in the position to be complaining. “I am not on the menu.”

The screech came again, this time closer; yeah, you weren’t sleeping tonight. The sun was now beyond the horizon, and there was no moon, the only light coming from the stars above; it was very pretty, but you could see jack shit. This was going to be a long night… and not a fun one, since you could also see the glowing eyes of unknown creatures which were, quite frankly, freaky as fuck. So yeah, no sleep for you.

“This fucking sucks,” you grumbled, and a chittering from the bog seemed to mock you. “This really fucking sucks.”

…

…

…

…

Tags; @busycloudy, @eynnwwyjth, @identity-theft-101, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @lucid-stories, @ryker-writes, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

~~~~~~~

Author's Note; This chapter is shorter, but it felt natural to end the chapter like this. This chapter, and the previous one, were both rewrites of an old WIP, so from here on out I don't have to rewrite! YIPPEE!!! Rewriting takes me forever, so we shall see what I come up with next.

If you liked this, do check out my masterlist for more content!

[tobereadindiapers-again]

The Nurse pt. 2

That night was one of the loneliest of your life. You spent most of it tossing and turning, and trying not to imagine all of the horrible ways your life had changed in an afternoon. How would you hide your diapers? How would you manage your changes? What would your friends and family think? What about women? What would they think of you. Wrapped in your smelly, wet diaper all day, every day. Would they think of you at all any more? You tried to keep that pitiful look Sarah had given you out of your mind, until you were nearly crazy with anxiety, fear, and exhaustion. Is that the only way women would look at you now? Sad, half masked pity.

Every time you felt your eyes close heavy with the promise of sleep, a small warm trickle snapped you back to waking. You spent the dark hours of the early morning straining with all of your might to stop the steady drip, drip, drip of urine into your diaper, but to no avail. It made you furious. You wanted nothing more than to stand up and rip the damn thing off and hurl it at the wall. This whole situation was infuriating! Unfair. Pathetic.

Finally you focused your mind on the muffled hustle and bustle of the hospital hallway outside your doors. The scurrying feet of hospital staff, the wherrs and beeps of the hospital machines, the hushed voices of night shift nurses outside your door. You wondered absently where Sarah was now.

You awoke abruptly to a clatter outside your room. People talked in hurried voices, and you heard scrapes and clanging as whatever fumbled hospital gear was quickly gathered back up.

You rolled over to face away from the door, and were immediately reminded of your new condition. The sagging, bulging diaper between your legs crinkled louder than the plastic hospital bedding. Its massive bulk felt foreign between your thighs, and your most intimate area felt slick, damp and clammy. Worst of all, you felt a horrid sticky, slippery mess between your cheeks as you rotated. It clung tight to your ass and shifted in the seat of your diaper as you rolled. Without thinking you reached down and grabbed at your ass in a panic. Your hands came into contact with the seat of your diaper far sooner than you expected and you felt the luke warm mass press into your ass, spreading into every little crevice it hadn't already occupied. The pressure from your hand emptied the diaper of air, pushing it out the back of the diaper waste-band to fill the tiny hospital room. You nearly gaged as the putrid smell of human excrement, mingled with the sweet aroma of baby powder, filled your nose. You wretched fully at the realization that your entire midsection was now smeared in your own shit. You began to pull  desperately at the seat of your diaper, hoping to put some room between your ass and the sticky cake of mud you had produced in the night. But your diaper was too snug, or too full, and each attempt only kneaded the mass within the diaper producing a sickening squelchy feeling against your backside. You wrenched again.

"Knock knock." You heard a soft voice whisper as the door to your room slowly creaked opened.

Fast as you could manage, you rolled back onto your backside, stiff as a board, clutching at your bedding covers and pulling them tight up to your chin. You were almost in too much of a panic to fully register the sickening feeling of excrement reforming itself to your movement, filling the space between your legs and pressing itself tight to the back of your hairless balls. Almost. 

You tucked the covers in under your legs hoping against hope that you could contain your stench beneath. You looked up to see Sarah, closing the door behind her, a small plastic tray held high in her hand, as if she were waiting tables, a bundle of clothes was tucked under her other arm.

"Hey Matt! How'd you sleep? Are you ready for breakfast?" She asked, with more cheer than you had anticipated from a nurse at the end of a double night shift. 

"Ughhh yeah, sure thing. I slept great! Thank you... uh Sarah! You can umm. Just leave all that there, I'll get it in a bit." You stammered with more cheer than someone in your position ever aught to. Maybe, just maybe, you could get her to leave. Maybe you could avoid a humiliation ten times worse than you had suffered the previous night. Maybe you could save this poor, beautiful woman the indignity of scraping human shit out of your useless, weak, mess of an asshole. You had to try. For both your sakes.

"Well I'm glad you were able to catch some sleep in this noisy place. I'm jealous. I hate working nights. I'm so ridiculously tired." She said.

You could believe it. She looked beat, and it seemed her chipper air of professionalism had tarnished somewhat over the course of the night.

"So," she continued, "I'm happy to leave these here," she indicated a tray of breakfast foods, and the bundle you now recognized as the clothes you wore in when you were first admitted yesterday morning, "but... I can't leave without giving you your final examination to clear you for discharge."

"Oh. Yeah, I uh, I forgot." You were leaving. You had almost forgotten.

It hadn't even been 24 hours since you were put under for your 'routine procedure' yet it felt a lifetime. So much had changed in so little time. It all felt so... unceremonious. 'Sorry we fucked up your life, bye-bye now'. You felt a flash of hot rage cross your face at the thought.

"What? You'd rather stay another night?" Sarah said, raising an eyebrow in jest.

"Ha" you laughed reflexively. It was so hard to concentrate on anything other than the messy diaper between your legs. She seemed... blurry, far away in comparison. Like your mind was trying to block her out. "No, no. I just. You know, I feel fine. Other than... you know." You nod down to indicate the hidden shame you both know was there."

"Yeah. I guess that's definitely going to take some... getting used to, huh?" She said.

"I guess." You said, unable to meet her eyes.

"Well, would you like to have your breakfast first? Or should we get you out of here?"

The thought of eating breakfast while wearing a diaper full of your own shit nearly made you wretch for a third time. But you were still determined to get out of here with some tiny, imperceptible, shed of your dignity intact. She would NOT be changing your messy diaper, not if you could help it.

"You know, I'm actually not all that hungry. Let's get checked out."

"Ok! Would you mind sitting up for me? I just need to give you a final once over, then we can get you changed, and if everything looks good we can get you checked out!"

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and sat up to face Sarah. Big mistake. Your full weight was now perched atop your messy diaper, you could feel the mass inside spread to every remaining unsoiled bit of skin it could contact. You squirmed uncomfortably but the mess persisted.

"Changed? I um, I'm actually pretty good I think."

Sarah pulled a stool up in front of you and slid a blood pressure cuff over your arm.

"Matt, come on. You know it's hospital policy." She said as she began to pump up the sleeve. 

"No, I know. It's just, I don't think I need one is all. It can wait until I get home." You said, glancing down at the surprisingly massive bulge of diaper protruding from between your legs. The thin hospital gown did practically nothing to conceal it, and you sheepishly tugged at the gown to better hide the obvious.

"Your blood pressure is a little high." She said absentmindedly.

"Might be I'm a bit nervous..." you said, trying to crack a half grin.

Sarah looked at you. Exhaustion in her eyes. "I'll tell you what." She said smiling up at you. "I just worked a brutal ten hour overnight, and I can't tell if I'm more hungry or tired. After I'm done here, you can change yourself...."

You couldn't believe how happy you were to hear you could change your own diaper. The thought both excited and depressed you.

"... under my observation." Sarah finished sternly. 

You were about to protest this humiliating condition but she cut you off. 

Sarah softened her tone, "Look, I'm going to level with you. I know this is embarrassing for you, but for me it's just another Tuesday. You're my last patient, and then I'm out of here. But I'll be honest, I'm not exactly thrilled at the thought of finishing this awful shift changing your messy brief. But i'm not going to finish it getting chewed out by my boss either. So, I'll stay here with you and guide you through it, or we can both suck it up and I can change you. What do you say?"

'Soiled brief' she had said. She knew you had messed yourself in the night. She knew you had pooped your diaper, and were wearing it right here in front of her. 'Of course she did' you thought, 'how could she not?'

"Okay." You said, wishing you could shrink into the floor.

"Deal." She said offering her hand. You shook it loosely, feeling a strange excitement at her touch. You were embarrassed that you could only bring yourself to meet her eyes for an instant before glancing away.

"Now just a few more things." She said pulling on some nitrile gloves. 

She had you lean forward, and she examined your back, pressing on different areas and inquiring about the pain level. If she hadn't known you'd shit your diapers before, she definitely would now, with the whole backside on display. She repeated the tests on your front, even pressing in on the diaper under your gown, by your abdomen. She checked reflexes, the sensation in your feet, and a half dozen other things, scribbling in your chart between procedures. Finally she seemed satisfied. 

"Alright Matt, that's it! You'll be happy to hear that for the most part your procedure was a success. You're in very good health. I've scheduled you for a follow up in 6 months, and other than that, let's get you changed and get you out of here!" 

'The procedure was a success!?!' You thought. You nearly screamed it. For an instant you were FURIOUS at Sarah. How could she even say that with a straight face. You were practically an invalid. Wrapped in a diaper filled with your own piss and shit. And expected to go on living that way. How dare she! 

"Hey Matt?" You looked up at her, practically seething, "I hate to ask this, but... are you really not going to eat that?" She asked pointing at the trey of eggs and toast. 

Your anger faded. It wasn't her fault you were like this. She didn't fuck up the surgery, she didn't sign the dotted line below the list of possible surgical complications. She was just a tired young nurse, trying to do her job.

You glanced at the plate of runny eggs, and failed not to think of the consistency of the mess in your diaper.

"Go ahead." You said. Unsure of how ANYONE could eat at a time like this.

"Oh my god, thank you so much. I am starving. The supplies you need are all there under your bed there." She said sitting on the vacant bed in the room and helping her self to the tray. She really did seem to have checked out early you thought.

Slowly, you rose to your feet, feeling the weight of the mess in your diaper shift down between your legs. You felt the full weight of your diaper on your hips for the first time, pulling you down under its own gravity now. You bent down awkwardly to retrieve your supplies, trying not to turn your back to Sarah, and expose your shame. 

Once you had gathered everything on your bed she spoke up.

"Ok, first things first." She said in between hurried mouth fulls of egg. "Feel the front of the brief there. See how soft and soggy it feels? I mean, this brief DEFINITELY needs a change, but just pretend, that softness is a pretty good way to tell it's time."

"Ok..." you said awkwardly prodding your diaper beneath your gown. "So do I just lay down?"

"Well, the incontinent parents I work with seem to prefer changing their soiled diapers standing... Opp... I'm sorry. I hope you don't mind me calling them diapers. I'm sorry, I'm just so tired.." she had almost finished her breakfast, you felt like you were about to loose yours.

"No... it's whatever. That's... what they are isn't it?"

"I know, I know. It's just, well we're trained to use the term 'brief' is all. I guess some people find it less..."

"Degrading?" You offered. Sarah blushed and made a sad face. "It's fine." You offered. "It's what they are."

A painfully awkward silence stilled the room for a moment.

Mercifully, Sarah broke it "Anyway, like I was saying. The incontinent people I work with, the ones who are capable of standing on their own anyway, often prefer to change their messy diapers, or briefs, or whatever you want to call them, from the standing position. I think it makes it easier to clean yourself up, but that's totally up to you."

"Ok." It occurred to you suddenly that you had absolutely no idea how to do this. "So just here then?" You asked standing across from her on the far side of the room.

"Yeah, wherever. Oh wait! Don't forget to prep your new diaper, remember?" 

You could feel your face turning red as you waddled back to the bed and unfolded your next diaper in front of her. The damn thing was massive, and so so loud.

"And fluff it." She added.

"Like this?" You asked crumpling the diaper back and forth in your hands. You felt like a child, worse than a child. Children didn't wear diapers.

"Yep! That's right. Just break up that padding a bit."

You laid the diaper on the foot of the bed and turned to face Sarah, using your gown to shield your shame as best you could. You could feel your knees shaking as if they were about to give out.

"So now I just... take it off?" You asked.

"Yeah, whenever you're ready... oh wait.." she said, stuffing the last bit of toast in her mouth and placing the empty tray down beside her.

You still couldn't understand how someone could eat in a situation like this. Perhaps she really was just THAT numb to it all. You wondered when that would happen to you, now that this was your life.

"Now I know you don't want to hear this, but this whole thing is going to be way easier for you if you take that gown off."

"What? Why? I'd, rather not if that's ok." Was she trying to humiliate you.

"That's fine by me. I just think it's going to get in your way is all." She said matter-of-factly.

"I'll leave it on." You said, upset to feel the sting of tears on the back of your eyes return now that the moment of truth had come.

You were surprised to realize how much your hands were shaking as you fumbled at the tabs of your sodden diaper. Finally you found purchase and ripped. The sound felt deafening in that tiny room. One, two, three, humiliating rips, and with the final pull you felt the diaper come loose from your body. You caught it awkwardly before it could fall fully under its own weight, and were mortified to feel how much of your own mess still clung to your ass. Worse yet, the putrid smell in the room seemed to double maybe even triple. You felt the tears well in your eyes now, and were unsure if it was from the smell, or from your abject humiliation. 

You knelt slowly to lower the horrid thing onto the ground between your feet. Gingerly you began to roll it up, eager to again trap as much of the smell within as you could. 

"Wait, wait, no. Leave it open. You'll put your used wipes in there, then close it all up when you're done." Sarah said hastily.

In a state of panic at the sad state of affairs, you slowly righted yourself, and reached to the bed beside you for a wipe. In your haste you lost track of where your gown was, and felt it tug at your neck as it dragged across the open diaper of muck between your feet. You saw the bottom was immediately spoiled, and pulled the first wipe to try and clean it. It swung back as you moved and slapped your leg, marking it with brown. Fully panicking now, you stooped to wipe your ankle, fully draping the gown into the diaper mess.

"Woah, woah, hey." Her voice was gentle. "Take your time. Breathe. You don't have to do this all in under a minute."

Your first tear fell. It landed on the floor just beside your used diaper. Without looking up at Sarah, you took a deep breath, and removed the gown. Soiled as it was, you let it fall to your feet. You stood now before her, completely nude, caked in shit, with your used diaper between your feet and tears in your eyes.

"Just start cleaning up." She said gently. "The hard part is over."

You were afraid to speak, less you start crying. You looked down at the disgusting mess at your feet, and at your nudity. You had forgotten you were completely bare down there. Your own genitals looked  foreign to you. Smooth, and glistening wet with piss. You raised your head, and saw her. 

She sat patiently on the bed across from you, hands crossed neatly in her lap, her face an absolute study of the word pity. She nodded gently. 

You reached for another wipe. You reached it back behind yourself and started to clean. The first wipe came away with nearly a full fist of excrement. You let it fall into the diaper below you. The second wipe was just as filthy. As was the third, and the fourth. You continued to wipe yourself for what felt to be ages. Each time some area seemed to be clean another area was found that seemed untouched. Your back began and thighs began to hurt with the strain as you squatted over the growing pile of dirty wipes. Pee dribbled from your penis as you continued to wipe, missing the diaper completely, and splattering on the ground around it.

"What the fuck." You whispered to yourself. "What the fuck." You repeated quietly in between wipes. What had you become? Just a day ago you were a strong independent man. Now you were this... this thing. Hairless, and helpless in all of the most vulnerable ways. More pee fell from your dick, you tried to reposition yourself over the spent diaper, but most still missed. You were crying now.

"Do you... want me to help?" Sarah asked quietly

"No. No, i can do it." You spat with more frustration than you had intended. You could do it. You could change your own messy diaper, and she would watch, with that same heart wrenching look of pity and disgust. 

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the wipes were coming back more clean than dirty. But you didn't feel clean. You had shit smeared across the back of your wiping hand, as you had forgotten your gloves, and you were still coming back with streaks of brown on rags as you struggled to clean your hairless balls. You wondered absently if you would ever feel clean again. Finally, at long last, you were 'satisfied' that you had gotten it all off of yourself. The dirty diaper beneath you was piled so high with dirty wet wipes you doubted you would be able to close it. You used the final wipe to clean off you hands and threw it in the pile. You stooped to roll up the diaper at last.

"How about we just get you in your fresh diaper first? Just in case you have anymore accidents on the floor." Sarah suggested mildly. 

You wiped your eyes with your forearm, careful not to touch your face with your hands and examined the damage. You had made a terrible mess. The shit filled diaper, soiled gown, and wayward used wipes, laid in a small puddle of urine. It dawned on you Sarah would have to clean that up as her last act of the day.

"Yeah. Sorry Sarah." You sniffled as you walked over to the open diaper on the bed and played down on it. 

Eager to end this humiliation and get the fuck out of there you reached for the powder, but were reminded promptly to complete all the steps.

Better late than never, you dawned a single purple glove and squeezed barrier cream onto your index finger. Trying your best to block out the beautiful nurse in the corner of your eye, you started fingering your asshole with the ointment. It was strange, to say the least, to have lost so much dignity so quickly. You could feel through your glove the tone of your asshole. It felt the same to your finger as you expected it to, you had never had to finger your ass hole much before, but you thought absently that your asshole felt differently, that it didn't feel your finger as you thought it should. Having adequately covered yourself in the sticky, slippery jell, you opened the baby oil and spritzed your cold naked pubic area. Sarah watched wordlessly. Finally the time had come. You were nearly there. You almost looked forward to it, as it signified the end of your ordeals. You opened the baby powder and poured it liberally over your pathetic member, which lulled listlessly in response, releasing another small stream of urine to trickle down your freshly cleaned ball sack and into your diaper. You lifted your legs over your head like a baby on a changing table and covered your ass. Then without bothering to close the bottle you pulled the diaper up over your privates. Were they even 'privates' any more? Were they even YOURS for that matter? You share as shit didn't have any control of them. They were now just filthy, leaky things to you now.

Finally hidden from the watchful eye of you observer you breathed a sigh of relief.  It was sad to think that being wrapped in a fresh white diaper in front of a beautiful woman was a relief to you now. It was still humiliating, but it wasn't that. 

Sarah stood and walked over beside your bed.

"Here, this parts tricky. Let me help." She held your hand as you held the diaper tapes and guided it into the correct position. Her touch felt nearly angelic. A caring, gentle touch in a time you had felt so unlovable. She didn't shy away, or make any indication that she had been disturbed by the whole pathetic disgusting act. She simply helped you tape on your diaper. Then she handed you your clothes 

"Here. You get dressed. I'll clean this up."

"No, I can do that."

"It's my job Matt, I don't mind." 

You couldn't watch as she pulled on her gloves and fell to her knees to began the work of cleaning up your shame. Instead you pulled on your boxers in a hurry, and found they did nothing to cover the diaper waste-band or conceal the bulge. Are you even supposed to wear boxers now? You didn't ask, but quickly pulled on your pants. Anything to cover this fucking thing. To your dismay, your pants felt about two sizes two small. You had to struggle and shift to pull the back over the puffy ass of your new underwear. Your quiet grunting was accompanied by loud obnoxious crinkles the entire time. Ones up around your waist, you then hade to fight the zipper, pushing down on the crotch of your diaper just to get it closed. The resulting look would have been comical if it weren't that YOU were the one wearing it. Your crotch bulged out unnaturally, and you could only guess what your ass looked like. A ring of blinding white plastic ringed your torso around your belt, making it perfectly clear to any and all that you were wearing a diaper. You threw on your t-shirt just as Sarah finished dumping the last of your mess in the bin by the door and tying the bag closed tight. 

She turned around and took a long look at you.

"Feeling better?" She asked.

"Uhh." What could you say? "Yeah. Thank you."

"Good! You look better! You're a pretty handsome man Matt." She said with a smile.

"Oh, yeah. Thank you." You felt like you were being talked down to by an elder, rather than genuinely complemented by a beautiful woman.

"Well. Let's get out of here shall we? You'll want to meet up with reception. They're down the hall on the left. They'll get you sorted with your supplies and prescriptions." She said opening the door. "And Matt, you're going to be fine. The first diaper change is always the worst. Eventually it'll become second nature, and you won't even think about it. So stay positive, ok? Maybe I'll see you around sometime." 

You shook hands in the hallway. You couldn't find the words to say goodbye. Just a single nod. And she was gone.

"Eventually you'll get used to it." She had said. It dawned on you this wasn't some horrible event that only happened to you that one time. This was your life now. THAT is how you go to the bathroom now. THAT is something you will do every single day. You piss and shit in your diapers now, and you always will. 

You turned and headed down the hall. You didn't even try to hide your awkward diaper waddle. You couldn't if you tried. 

"This is your life now". You thought, as warm urine flooded the puffy plastic padding between your legs. "And you'd better get used to it."

If you enjoyed this story, please consider submitting more photos of "the nurse". Anything will do. I have one or two more myself but nothing I can work with at the moment. So please help.

hope you enjoyed.

thank you.

[iambilliejeanok]

can you please write headcanons on how the Akatsuki eat out their fem s/o? Thank you.

Yes I can, you’re welcome🌸

🌸How the Akastuki members eat out fem reader🌸

Feature: Pein||Kakuzu||Hidan||Sasori||Itachi||Kisame

Warnings: 🔞, NSFW, content might be unsuitable for some viewers, contains taboo/explicit scenes that some might find disturbing, darcyphillia, female cunnilingus, UNEDITED, the whole thing is about pussy eating, all consensual scenarios.

No artwork presented here belongs to me

💗Enjoy💗

Pein

We love Pein we really do, but dear lawd, he knows how to torture you. Pein is such a dirty tease. He’s so bad, you might even end up crying, the remainder of the session.

With his mouth literally watering, this is tough on him too, spit casually sliding off of his tongue and onto your vulva, while he’s softly biting and sucking the skin surrounding your genitalia, leaving small hickies behind and NEVER touching your clit.

If you’re strong willed enough, screaming at him and tugging on his dry orange hair might direct his attention to your suffering, but that also really annoys him, and now a lingering kiss is all he leaves you with, your hips would’ve shot up if he wasn’t holding them down, but your poor clit is way too sensitive that just the contact of his soft lips against your clit nearly took you out.

“Pein! Baby I can’t stand this! Please!!!”, you desperately beg him, unashamedly attempting to shove your clit in his mouth but you can’t even get close, he’s freakishly strong. He’s eyebrows now lower and he’s purely disappointed. “If I give you want you want you’re still going to bother me. Why can’t you give in to me?”, he asks, and lawd knows you couldn’t give a flying fuck right now, he needs to get serious.

But this is his little game, to see how much he can torture you, purple eyes refocusing on your pussy. Here’s a good reason as to why he admires edging you so much, you’re so incredibly wet, and when he separates your folds to get a good look at you, it’s all goey and sticky, and he absentmindedly starts licking a trail up and down every inch of your exposed vulva, every lick setting your entire body ablaze, Pein shoving his tongue as deep as it can go inside of you as he continues licking up, but he stops just below your clit his eyes blissfully shut and his head in another world as he takes his sweet time to taste every inch of you.

There’s no level of horny greater than this for you and Pein is hard enough to break something with his erection. He’s definitely not sorry for putting you through this and for a matter of fact, he had you right where he needs you. He’s managed to reduce you to a desperate mess, your pussy is dripping with your arousal and he’s looking right back at your hole, watching it contract and expand as though it’s begging him too. He knows it’s begging him. Now he can mess with you.

Kakuzu

First of all, Kakuzu towers over you, his impressive frame and bulky size means he can easily manhandle you regardless of your size, and we know this grumpy piece of sexyness takes advantage of that too.

He’s so serious though, but he loves your personality, whatever it is. He doesn’t typically make any sounds outside of heavy breathing when the two of you have sex, and you’re always the one reaching the high notes.

Kakuzus approach to eating you out is definitely different from Peins, because Kakuzu doesn’t have the time of day to edge you. He’s a dangerous assassin and only enjoys making money the easiest way he knows how, so he always needs to stay alert and be on guard, even in the comfort of your own bedroom while his head is buried between you legs.

He’s very intentional and to the point, he wants you to start crying out his name with ragged screams RIGHT NOW😭This man has no general idea of how to initiate anything sexual so he just scoops you up, throwing you over his shoulder wherever you are. He places you down anywhere comfortable enough for you lay down, and he’s immediately pushing your thighs up and spreading your legs. He also ALWAYS just moves your panties to the side because he doesn’t have time to get all romantic with you, but he also really wants to make you feel good🥺 he really tries his best to make you feel good, if only it didn’t have to be so spontaneous and intense all the time

The pad of his thumb is already rubbing your clit in circles. Now you know he’s insanely good at this, so the minute he throws you over his shoulder, your pussy is already growing moist with every passing second. He’s not a fan of dirty talk but sometimes he’ll comment on how you’re already creamed up at this point. If only he understood his own power😭😭

With his focus on your beautiful face, he spits right onto your clit and you can’t help but moan at the sensation of the cold spit landing on clit, but he’s massaging your clit again with his thumb, his free hand working in ripping your top in half so he can free your titties. Kakuzu gets so horny when you let him play with you, because it’s not like he can just do this whenever he wants. Biting your lip to stifle a moan at the contact of his open palm kneading your boob would work if the speed of his thumb in your clit didn’t increase, and you’re moaning loudly now, his focused facial expression relaxing with a smirk pulling at his lips before he buries his head between your thighs, tongue fucking you to an orgasm, and you’re already throwing your head back, overwhelmed with Kazuzu’s intensity and aggressiveness as he licks and sucks on your clit, your screams like a beautiful play that he gets to orchestrate, knowing what to do to get what kind of reaction.

Your orgasm are always so long and intense because he’s constantly stimulating something. If he’s sucking your soul out of your clit he’s also tongue fucking you, his fingers helping out to stimulate your gspot while he’s free hand keeps you spread just enough to lick every inch of you. HE LOVES EATING YOUR WHOLE ASS OUT OKAY. He’s so strong it’s left you with a little bit of an obsession towards his touch. He lifts your ass up easily enough with how he pushes your thighs open and by the time he’s getting around to lapping the crack of your ass and circling your anus you’re a complete mess. You’re squirting, screaming and shaking but it’s barely been three minutes…he has the time to go a little longer. 5 minutes, maybe 6 since he’s feeling extra relaxed at this point.

Sasori

He’s so sick and evil please😭😭 why does getting your pussy ate out have to be so intense and overwhelming. And you might need to endure a little bit of pain to experience those orgasms that make you feel like you’re turning into another creature. He loves to study you and your body, how certain things will drive you crazy and how other things you can handle better.

Sasori is surprisingly a loyal pleaser, he always strives to send you over the moon and he now understands that the more pleasure you experience the easier it is for you to handle penetration. He loves penetrating you while eating you out, yes with his fingers and they feel so good you can literally envision the way he makes you feel, but he also gets a kick out of seeing the toys he meticulously designed fit inside of you, one inside your anus and one inside your vagina. The one inside your vagina just vibrates, starting from a low buzz and gradually growing more intense, that you’ll eventually have orgasms that could last the whole session, while the you that goes inside your vagina is the one he plays around with, fucking you with it while he devours your clit. Sometimes he will pull the toy inside your vagina out to replace it with his own tongue and slurp up the mess you’re making. 😭🙈

Hidan

Hidan loves spanking yes, but not he’s not about your ass. When you’re enjoying an intense orgasm, crying, or fussing enough to annoy him, especially while he’s in the zone, spreading your lips apart to directly stimulate your exposed bean, but gentle licks is enough to send you into spasms. When it gets difficult to keep you in one position, he straightens up and smacks your titties, loves to slap both of them, until your promise him you’ll sit still. You know the drill.

But the reality is you’re not going to be able to stay in one position with how he’s not giving your a break, constantly licking your vulva, unintentionally stimulating your g spot every time his tongue slips inside of you, taking his sweet time, his eyes shut to really taste you. So he opens his eyes and frowns, sitting upright to start smacking your breasts again.

He makes you cry when he does this because it’s really not fair, and damn you because your years will tug at his heart enough to convince him you deserve a break. He’s actually kinda sweet though, because when you begin to really cry and beg him to wait, he will find something else to do until you’re ready for round two, massaging your boob in one hand while he’s warm mouth is suckling the other, and your beautiful skin is always covered in dark patches from the millions of of hickies he leaves all over you, especially your chest and neck area when he’s giving you a break.

In between kisses he checks on you. “Hey”, he whispers as to not startle you, your eyes fluttering as they open up to see him. You should answer him when he’s done planting soft kisses against your softer lips. “hey”, you respond in the softest voice, he immediately has the urge to wrap his arms around you, squeezing you tight. “Intense right.. babyy, are you okay?”, he whispers in your ear. “Yes I’m okay, thank you”. “May I continue?”, he asks placing a kiss against your temple, already leaving a trail of kiss as he repositions himself between your legs.

This time around he’s a little meaner, praising you for constantly squirting on him while he’s devouring you, your orgasms so intense it doesn’t take too long for you to start throwing another tantrum. He’s so good at handling you🥺

Itachi

Itachi🥺 he loves talking to you during foreplay. He’s also constantly flirting with you, that probably explains why you’re always horny. He knows what he’s doing because Itachi LOVES pleasuring you with his mouth. Whether it’s verbally or physically, he never fails to make you feel so so good.

Itachi will eat you until a whiny mess and he talks you through all of it. “Tachi!’ I can’t take it uhhhh!!!!”, you whine, Itachi not stopping the stroke of his tongue against your clit until you have this orgasm. He doesn’t like ruining your orgasms, so he’s rather just make you nut and give you a break after, no matter how intense the orgasm is. You’re going to have it until you calm yourself. “There you go sweet girl”, he pants, mesmerized by the way you’re squirting and the noises you’re making, screaming while he’s literally just watching you cum. “Baby”, he smiles, “I love watching my pretty girl squirt like this. Thank you baby”. “I- o-okay—“, you try and speak but that orgasm was rather overwhelming.

Your inability to get yourself together always amuses him, he loves doing this to you. “My pretty girl”, he says, leaning forward to finally kiss you, his fingers slowly separating your folds, the pad of his middle finger rubbing your clit in left to right strokes, the speed increasing, quickly leaving you unable to kiss him in return. He smiles again, amused. Your clit is so sensitive and you’re so sweet and responsive, the demon inside of him wants to come out and play. Now even though you’re screaming from such simple actions, he still wants to see you have another orgasm, despite the intensity.

But he’s loving and sweet with how he handles the situation you don’t realize he’s the reason why you find yourself able to make it to orgasm number 4 in just one round😫

Kisame

Like Kakuzu, Kisame is also really tall and bulky, and uses that to his advantage whenever he can, even when he’s trying to pleasure his precious lover😞

He loves him some foreplay and loves using his fingers before he finishes you off with his mouth. He loves you between his thighs with you back resting against his chest, and with his free hand leading your boobs, his other hand is rapidly flicking at your clitoris, bringing you to multiple orgasms while you squirm and convulsive between his legs, yet he easily holds you snug against him. He might even place his own legs over yours and bring you to another orgasm. You’re guaranteed to squirt when he bullies you like this. Sometimes he would make you sit on his dick while he does this to your poor clit, but let’s get into that some other time…

He loves for you to sit on his face, sit on his face and ride him. Don’t stop though because that might aggravate him😭 and slowly make him feel like he has to be a little more aggressive. “Cmon baby, what’s the matter?”, he frowns, smacking your ass hard before sitting you right back on his mouth, the grip of his hands on your hips is so strong you don’t even try and escape, succumbing to your fate of back breaking orgasms. Tomorrow your back will certainly remind you of this moment right here with how often you arch. But you’re grateful for your morning yoga sessions because those help a lot with any body aches you might have, unless Kisame walks in on you in that downward dog position, then he suddenly wants to do some yoga with you. You both know why he’s really here and it’s going to end with his head between your thighs.

But if it’s not for face riding please let him eat you out on all fours. Lawd he’s so aggressive and might make you wanna tap out from the overstimulation. And in this position you’re so exposed, he buries his face nose between your ass cheeks, might enjoy sniffing your anus while he’s devouring you, his tongue lapping at your clit while he shakes his head, making all kinds of grunt and groaning sounds to show you how much he’s enjoying this. And while you’re pushing his head band begging him to stop he makes more sounds while casually smacking your hands out the way.

He can and will tongue fuck you to tears carefully observing your face while he shoves it inside of you with force, making you crumble and cum right then and there.

[feederheart]

I had caught her.

This was the third time she had shown up this month and this time, I didn’t have to wait for nearly an hour after I had closed up shop for her to finally show up. This time she appeared as if she were ready for a date. She adorned a nice dress that showed off all of her curves (especially her gargantuan belly that hung below her hips), she wore makeup for the first time, and her hair shined like a new car outside of its usual hastily-tied bun. Usually, I took the extra time to get cleaned up and change out of my chef’s uniform; I was covered in fruit preserves and my arms felt a little sticky. This time, however, I didn’t want to take my eyes off the beautiful enchantress before me. It was as if her planetary body came with a gravitational pull that had trapped my gaze.

“You got the goods?” she asked with more assertiveness than usual.

Her beautiful, dark eyes looked at me with intense hunger; it was equal parts arousing and terrifying.

“You’re making this sound like a drug deal,” I chuckled.

“C’mon, I’m hungry,”  she pleaded, my joke falling flat on its face.

“Alright, relax, I’ve still got you,” I said.

I already had exactly what she wanted; I had stashed all of the leftover pies by the rear door in anticipation of her arrival. I reached for the brown bags each containing four whole unsold pies and handed them to her.

“Got any more?” she asked.

“Really?” I asked, amazed by her gluttony; eight pies is a lot. “You want more?”

“They’re good!” she replied, blushing ever so slightly. “I mean- really good. You knocked these out of the park!”

Then it was my turn to blush; compliments for my cooking or baking are my heart’s kryptonite.

“Thank you,” I replied. “But I’m not sure if you can carry any more without dropping or crushing one.”

“How about I just ate one?” she suggested. “Before you threw the rest away.”

“Right here?” I asked, turning around and scanning the interior of the restaurant. “I don’t know, The Boss is strict about giving away food and I don’t want you on the security camera.”

I then pointed to the camera right above the back doorway.

“We’re lucky this one doesn’t work right or else I wouldn’t be able to sneak anything to you.”

“Th-that's okay, I’ll sit right here,” she replied matter-of-factly as she waddled a few steps forward and plopped her huge, round ass onto the floorboards of the rear porch. The wood creaked loudly and her fat spread out across the surface like thick pancake batter poured on the griddle. She then reached into one of the bags and grabbed a blueberry pie sitting on top of the surface along with a plastic fork.

I stared at her, unable to take my eyes off of her quivering rolls that jiggled as she rocked back and forth trying to get comfortable on the hardwood surface. As she finally stopped and her fat jiggled and quivered for a few more seconds, she turned her head and looked up at me.

“What?” she said as if taking a fork and eating an entire pie was a completely normal thing to do. “I’m hungry, I’ve barely eaten anything today. I’ve had, like, a half-pounder at Fudruckers and some Chipotle today but that was it.”

“Oh nothing, there’s no problem,” I said nonchalantly. “Lemme finish cleaning before I get the rest and lock up shop.”

I turned around and finished cleaning the kitchen for the day, I snuck a few glances at the beautiful woman happily gorging away at the pie I made like a greedy pig, shoving massive forkfuls of fatty, sugary, blueberry goodness into her mouth, her arms quivering with each forkful. I could just barely hear her humming happily as she ate over the sounds of the sink and clanking pans. As I wiped down the sink, I could see her throw the now-empty pie container aside and get started on a new pie, this time a special cognac and peach pie I won a baking competition with. As she got her fill, I could see her adjusting her dress as her belly swelled with the delicious dessert. She rubbed her corpulent tummy and let out a small burp as she put away the now-half-eaten peach pie and tossed it next to the blueberry pie dish.

I fought to hide my arousal as I grabbed two more pies and handed them to her.

“Thank you- urg,” she groaned as she rose to her feet slowly, weighed down by what must have been a quarter-ton of fat plus one and a half pies. “Oh that was so good, holy shit, these are really the best pies ever.”

“Thank you,” I replied, feeling a rush of giddy warmth flow through me. “You know, I may be a baker but I’m a damn good chef too. How does dinner at my place tomorrow night sound?”

“Yeah that sounds amazing,” she replied rushedly as if her gargantuan stomach made that decision for her before she could think about it.

“Excellent, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I replied happily.

She grabbed the pie-filled bags and waddled back to her car, her belly looking the roundest I had ever seen her. She stopped once and set down a bag to adjust her dress one more time as it rode up her fat-laden thighs before picking it back up, waddling to her car, struggling to fit her gut behind the wheel, and driving away.

I took a deep breath, knowing that I had won. I had caught her like the whale she was.

[batwritings]

Kinktober Day 3 - Cuckolding

More CoD smut ho! This time with some lovable (<<debatable) Mexican operators :3 (I'm so very sorry for any incorrect grammar/words in advance!) Enjoy!~

Warning! This work does contain a couple notes of degradation! Please be warned before reading! Thank you!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t hard to figure out the relationship between Alejandro and Valeria from the very beginning. The ups, the downs, but ultimately, the rivalry. Neither of them were particularly subtle, and that extended to how they interacted with those around them, namely you.

So how you ended up in this particular situation wasn’t…entirely outside the realm of thought. It certainly wasn’t how you expected your night to go though. Because despite all evidence to the contrary, your night was actually going pleasantly normal.

Yet here you were, your lovely boyfriend, nearly the colonel of the Mexican special forces arms crossed, and borderline pouting in front of you. You were sat in his rival’s lap, a thick strap deep inside you. Tears were brimming in your eyes as you tried so hard not to moan out in pleasure.

“Looks like you perro has preferences Alejandro,” Valeria sneered, quickening the pace she put on pleasuring your sex. You bit into your lip and leaned your head back so it rested against the woman’s shoulder. “Poor thing, trying so hard not to show your cariño how much you love this.”

You could hear the low possessive growl that you’d come to associate with Alejandro whenever someone was really getting on his nerves. Someone was pressing both his buttons and your own and, unfortunately for both of you, it was consensual. The three of you had talked on and off about having a threeway in the past. Sometimes that even elevated to a foursome whenever Rudy joined in on conversation, although he was always quick to back out. He blamed it on a low sex drive, but you and Al knew it was primarily how nervous Valeria made him.

The pleasure was building quicker and quicker now, your chest heaving as you tried so hard not to fall apart by her hands. That’s how this had all started; a playful bout of banter that Valeria could make you feel better than Alejandro could. Naturally, your hot-tempered partner disagreed, vehemently. 

“Your legs are shaking puta,” the woman coos, her voice bittersweet in your ear. You can’t help but whimper as you feel the flood gates about to burst. You barely register the sound of a hitch in Alejandro’s breathing. That was a tell that very few knew; this was exciting him.

A million and one thoughts flew through your head in that instant, but only two managed to stick. One, was the fact that the near Colonel was going to absolutely take you once this was all said and done and you had received proper aftercare. Two, were the words that fell from your lips.

“C-c-coming…!” You barely gave enough warning before you made an absolute mess across Valeria’s fingers. You could feel her well kept nails dig into your hair and pull you head back, earning a much louder moan of pleasure. Somewhere in your foggy mind you could hear Alejandro groan quietly, but that was blocked out as you saw spots and started to come down from your high.

“Shh, hush now,” Valeria hummed, slowly removing her sticky fingers from your sex. You whimpered quietly from the overstimulation it caused, but did your best to control your breathing. “You did well. Alejandro certainly trains his pets correctly, if nothing else.”

You could hear your lover scoff softly as the woman helped him ease you off the toy. Al took you in his arms and held you tightly as Valeria covered you with the blanket from your cot.You did your best to cling to the man you loved. “You’re alright mi vida,” the man hushed you, petting your head sweetly. “You did very well for us both, you know that yeah?” 

Despite your fuzzy mind, you nodded into the crook of his neck. “Agua, por favor…” you rasped, not quite ready to speak fully yet. 

“Right here,” came Valeria’s voice. You lifted your head from Alejandro’s shoulder to see her offering you your water bottle. “Put your lips on it.” You did as she asked, in no real position to argue. She applied gentle pressure to the bottle, allowing the cool liquid to soothe your throat. 

“Gracias…” you mumbled, resting your head back against Alejandro’s shoulder. You heard him huff a soft laugh at your actions.

“You should get them to bed Aljeandro,” the woman advised, noting your slowly closing eyes. “But let me know when you want me to cuck you again.”

You nodded off to the sound of familiar Spanish banter.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park x Reader: this is our place (we make the rules)

Epilogue

Gun has a new neighbour. Index: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Epilogue

Gun places the empty container outside your door with a sticky note atop.

He wants to do this properly.

‘Let me take you out to dinner for our first date.’

.

.

The date was certainly a good idea. 

Unfortunately, you never made it out of the apartment. You never even made it out of the bedroom.

You misremembered the agreed meeting time, ending up banging at Gun’s door 30 minutes earlier (after you had loitered around your own apartment for 30 minutes wondering where the hell that bastard was).

The door flies open with Gun looking pissed off, holding just a towel around his waist.

Oh my god? 

“Why the fuck are you hammering on my door?”

Oh my god??

Clearly he had just come out of the shower. Probably been interrupted while in the middle of it. Hair soaking and pushed back, water dripping. Down his jaw, onto his pecs, his abs, sliding to the navel and (you gulp) below. Down powerful lean thighs and strong calves all into neat little puddles on the floor.

Once again, you can’t take your eyes off him. 

Oh my god???

“You do realise you’re early?”

A tiny part in your brain tells you that Gun is speaking to you, but you can’t hear it for the pounding in your ears.

What you can hear is another part of your brain telling you to go for it. There's nothing to hold you back this time. Fuck the date and just fuck him.

Gun’s annoyance dissipates when he sees the look in your eyes. The hunger and desire. His glower is replaced with a smirk, only for a second-

Before you give in to your inner demons and pounce, catching him off balance, smashing your lips together, running your hands all over him and pressing your body to his.

Dinner never happens. 

You spend the entire evening and night very creatively using all the spaces and surfaces in Gun’s apartment.

.

.

Gun wakes up to your bodies tangled together.

He’s not used to sleeping next to someone, usually finding himself unable to settle.

Last night was probably the best night's sleep he has ever had.

…And the best night due to other reasons too.

Gun notices you stirring, moving slightly away as you stretch and rub your eyes.

“Morning,” he says, watching you snuggle into his shoulder and then opening one eye at his greeting.

“Morning,” you smile, bright and warm like the first daylight of summer, “Want to go for breakfast instead?”

.

.

This time you do make it.

Gun’s eyes are soft as he watches you telling him an anecdote and gesticulating with a fork in your hand. Shocking table manners as always, but it doesn’t matter.

As he sits opposite you, occasionally sipping on his coffee and taking bites of food, he comes to three realisations:

One - He wants to experience and share everything with you. 

Two - You are his present and future. 

Three - That if you let him, he will follow wherever you go. To the ends of the earth and more.

He doesn’t tell you this now though. 

There’s no rush. It’s still early days.

 You will come to know all this eventually because Gun is Gun. A change of heart does not come easily. Once he commits to something, he will see it through to the end.

Gun Park wants to and is determined to go through all the peaks and troughs of life with you.

It will happen. You will experience the privilege of growing old together. Share laughter and tears through the years.

But that’s a story for another time.

For now, let's enjoy breakfast.

[rivangel]

//afab!reader, subby!Levi, edging, praise, mommy kink, crying, dumbification, bondage (blindfold, spreader, cuffs), ass play

It’s gotten to this point.

Only the sound of the headboard above Levi’s head creaking makes him realize he’s straining the ropes binding his wrists. But he can’t remember to stop for long, can’t stop his head from tossing side to side—he can’t contain the tension any longer. And that’s what he thought an hour ago.

The blindfold blankets his vision in constant darkness. Clueless as to when or where you’re going to touch his body, as wound up as a live wire, leaves his insides light with anticipation.

That’s more intense by itself, but this pales in comparison. With each release you edge him to the brink of, he prays that there must be a limit, only to be proven wrong again and again.

No matter that you gently push his pecs together and spread them apart or draw a teasing finger up his inner thigh, he arches into your warm hands and leans his thigh—not getting far, however, with the leather hugging his ankles bracing the metal bar in place, forcing his legs wide open at all times.

He makes a small whine of frustration when the metal bar doesn’t give, hooking his teeth into his raw bottom lip. Your fist, closed around his sticky tip, remains firm but motionless. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple.

“Ah fuck—”

He hisses through his teeth as the three fingers stuffed inside him shift in a movement so slight it shouldn’t even be noticeable. Just like your fist, all you do is inflict firm pressure. If you just rubbed his prostate once, he’s sure he’ll come. His insides uncontrollably quivering around them in a plead for movement is almost too much.

“Please… mommy…” escapes him between shaky panting.

A kiss is pressed to his tip. He gasps, his shaking thighs immediately jerking in attempts to escapes the overwhelming stimulation—for nothing.

“You’ve finally reached your limit, huh, baby.”

Warm breath fans over the crease of his inner thigh and pelvis, plush lips dragging up and down. He mumbles incoherently, weeping just faintly as his cock gives a thick twitch that aches through his whole body.

Those fingers rock properly this time, once.

“ah-hah—fu—plea-please ngh…”

“if you want to come, use your words,” you croon. “Do you remember how to talk?”

He chokes on a sob, his head flopping to one side again. “Mommy. Please, m-mommy—h-h—mommy…”

“Mhm?”

The nonchalance in your voice makes more tears bleed through his white blindfold.

“Lemme c-come, mommy, I need to—”

A cry fills his throat as your thumb rubs his slit, back and forth, and his walls pulse.

Just when that sweet release emerges, you take your hand off entirely, leaving him to slump in defeat. It’s no use. His heaving chest wracks as he starts to break down.

And it actually hurts this time. His toes curl, teeth grit as his cock twitches in quick succession. His tip leaks again, and drips down his shaft. He doesn’t hear himself mumbling or that it’s not even coherent besides mommy.

But he knows you must be watching.

“Shh…”

Your soothing tone is a lie; you work your fingers out of him next. His hips raise slightly, which is as much as he can, but it’s useless, and he’s left with nothing. He’s crying properly now, fracturing his whined mumbling.

“Shh, I’d never leave you like this. You’ve been such a good boy. Letting me hear that pretty voice of yours so much…”

Your sweaty palm grazes his cheek, touch his whole head falls into. Please has fallen from his lips so many times that it doesn’t even sound like a word anymore.

“Don’t move.”

He stiffens as much as possible, but his thighs can't stop trembling.

The bed lightly creaks, then your knees fall to rest outside his hips. Enticing heat off your inner thighs ghosts his navel, but you aren't even sitting down.

But he doesn't arch his back; he remains still, like a good boy.

“Stay like this until mommy says.” Your palms slide up his slim waist, flicking his sore nipples.

He inhales sharply through his teeth, his fists painfully clenching, crying, “Please please please please…”

“Oh, you’re so cute...”

You grasp the base of his cock.

Tight, slick heat slides onto his sensitive cock, your tight delicious fucking pussy, and quivers around it, clinging to it, so wet that there's a squelch when your pussylips collide with his balls.

A shameless moan he didn’t even think his voice was capable of seizes his chest, head falling back. It strains deep inside you, being massaged by the maddening heat of your body like your cunt wants him to come in it just as much as he needs to. You groan, gently.

“I’m gonna come I can’t”—he cries out in utter misery—“I’m—can’t, mommy, mm—”

“Fuck me, baby—”

You don't finish before he cries out so gutturally that his voice breaks. Even his shaking stutters to a brief halt when his balls throb—pleasure impossible to contain inside his body, vision flashing. His orgasm burns through his veins like lit kerosine. His hips raise off the bed as he deliriously ruts, sweaty skin roughly slapping. A groan explodes out of his chest. You're forced to seize support from his shoulders that he doesn't notice as he fucks thick cum deep inside the heat of your cunt, between eager twitches of his cock.

[heart-eyed-love]

Jocks give Eddie a hard time. Fem!Reader. Friends-to-Lovers. Contains - Cursing, Slight Bulling, Shirtless Eddie

That Friday night after a successful night of a Dungeons and Dragons with the rest of Hellfire, you all had decided on hitting up the diner before you all reluctantly returned home.

Unfortunately, for your small group of weirdo, the basketball team had the same idea as you guys. All the jocks flowing around the small diner with their cheerleader girlfriends at their side was not making this fun, relaxing night.

And they had decided to test your patience.

You and Eddie had headed up to the counter in hopes of just getting your friends and yourselves some drinks, and you went to help him carry the drinks back.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen any of those dipshits drink water.” Eddie tease with a grin as you both collect the drinks and began to head back to your table.

“They’re teenage boys, what do you expect?” You giggle teasingly, but rather quickly your giggling is cut off by a jock trying to pass by, purposefully knocking the bottom of the drinks in Eddie's hand. Sending the soda all of the front of his shirt and dripping from his chin.

Eddie kind of just freezes, not entirely sure what happened or who did it. He just knows he fucking soaked now.

And as the jock asshole is opening his mouth, he attempts to let out a condescending “oops” but you throw your own drink in his face, muffling his attempt of speaking. He coughs on the drink that went down his throat, and tosses the other drink onto his shirt.

You walk past Eddie, who’s now even more frozen and jock who’s now drenched in an assortment of drinks, and still coughing on the drink, and head back to the table.

The boys are silently staring at you and then back to the boys who are both soaked, you set the empty cups down on the table and grab your hoodie, muttering a, “C’mon,” to the boys as you leave the table again. Walking back towards Eddie you're able to see the rest of the basketball team and their girlfriends are also silently watching the scene that unfolded in front of them.

You roll your eyes, and grab Eddie’s wrist, dragging him outside with the rest of your friends, hoping to knock him from his frozen state.

You all linger around his van, and Grant walks up to Eddie handing him some napkins he grabbed from the table, and Eddie wipes the soda that’s fortunately drying on his face.

Then Jeff speaks up, “Hey, why don’t I take the other guys home…” He offers pointing over his shoulder towards his own car, “You guys can just head home and get cleaned up….” He smiles sweetly, and it’s now you look down at your own shirt and see the dark spatters where the drink had slightly got you too.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man…” Eddie says sort of out of it, makes you feel even better about throwing those drinks back in that asshole's face.

You both watch as the three boys trail off to Jeff’s car and you linger by Eddie’s side.

“You okay?” You ask softly as you look back over to him, surprised to see him already looking at you.

Yeah. Yeah, I'm good…” He smiles slightly.

“Here, let’s get in…” You say knocking your knuckle against the back door of his van, and Eddie’s nodding as he goes to unlock it. He opens the door for you and you hop inside and wait for him to do the same. You crawl your way to your backpack that’s in the front seat, the seat that you always get, even if it means the boys are always stuffed in the back. You grab your water bottle from your bag and retrieve the napkins that Grant gave to Eddie.

“Take your shirt off.” You say, and it has Eddie’s eyes widening at how nonchalantly you said it.

“What…?” He asks, slightly confused.

“Take your shirt off, it’s drenched, Eddie. And your chest is probably sticky as hell…” You say as you pour some of the water on the napkins. You don’t have to ask him twice, and he’s tugging the gross shirt off.

You move closer with your wet napkin in hand as you bring it up to his chest and attempt to wipe the soda residue from his chest.

“Jeez, take a guy out to dinner first…” He’s smirking.

“Oh, I mean… I totally would, but last time I recall trying to get dinner with you some asshole poured a bunch of soda all over you. Remember that?” You tease and it only has him smiling more.

“Yeah… I think I recall something like that happening, but the part that sticks with me the most was the really hot girl that poured soda back on that asshole in my defense…”

“Oh yeah…?” You ask as continue wiping his chest off with a smirk, but not looking in his eyes.

“Yeah…” And he grabs your wrist to stop your movements, “You know, I could do this on my own…” He says as he attempts to grab the napkin from you, but you pull your hand back immediately.

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” You give him one more wipe for precaution, and then grab your hoodie and throw it to him. “For your modesty.” You smirk, crawling back to the front seat and plopping down in the passenger seat and looking back at him, “You coming?”

And he hastily pulls your hoodie on and tries to make his way back to the front, and you’re giggling as you watch him, “Would you actually take me out to dinner?” He asks with a grin, and it had you playfully rolling your eyes.

You smirk as you pat his cheek, “Yeah, I think we can work something out…”

[raisindave]

[Chapter 66] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

This final morning was a rainy one, leaving you utterly soaked after your short walk from that dingy motel. The atmosphere was different in the temporary workspace, more dreadful. KKpt at the professor didn't even rear their heads in acknowledgement as you stepped past the glass doors, wringing your soaked shell jacket. You'd finished the night with the idea to use an inversed transpositional cipher and went to bed with the phony joy of a possible solution, leaving the dread of proofreading for the morning. And almost immediately, hazy eyes blink in disbelief at your work from the previous night. Utterly useless, ink now bleeding with stray droplets from your dripping hair. 

Humidity from the air made your clammy skin feel feverish and sticky, clinging to the plastic-ey jacket that crinkles every time you lean to rest your face in your palms. Maybe you're looking at this wrong? What if it's an inside job, and the professor is secretly an armed cultist, the outsider, the one without militaristic security clearance. A glance over your shoulder, he was lying on his back on the wood floor, houndstooth blazer creased as he was clearly lost in deep thought. No, it's not him. Could they be using commercial radio communications? Manipulating stations or songs to send signals, where songs from the 80s mean affirmative and songs from the 90s mean negative. Intelligence would've picked up on that, that kind of surveillance falls into Laswell's field more than yours. They would've noticed something obvious like that long ago, but the sound of movement behind you shattered your concentration. The sound of scuffing boots over your shoulder made you halt your pen entirely, placing it across the paper with an awkward candour.

"I hope we're not being a distraction," that infamous Scottish accent spoke up from behind you; it would've spooked you if you weren't already so hopeless.  

You were seconds away from turning to snap at them for being unhelpful when the unmistakable sound of thick plastic snapped you from your irritation. It's a sound everybody knows, so uniquely distracting, the iconic sound of a plastic cake container being awkwardly pried open.  

"We forgot to ask them to write on it, but Gaz had the idea to write you a message in Morse code," Price nodded, placing a cake beside your damp notepad as you rubbed your eyes. 

"Seeing as you're a linguist and all," Gaz chuckled, clearly pleased with his contribution. 

Not for much longer, it seems.

You craned to look at the unfurled cake, a small treat of puffy chocolate icing with delicate shavings of white chocolate and plump strawberries. An exquisite treat from a bakery a few blocks away, just out of the reach of the barricade. Treats arranged in dots and dashes from licorice and MRE M&M's crudely manifested into a morse message. 'Happy Bsrthday Crscket'. An easy mistake, but you plucked the unnecessary dots to correct the i's and popped them into your mouth, a mistake that made Price jab an elbow into Gaz's shoulder. 

"I've got a birthday candle, too," Soap slipped the dark canister of a CTS Flash-Bang from his vest, trying to fight a creeping grin. 

It managed to pry a weak laugh from your chest, where you'd previously been stunned by the gesture. You'd forgotten your own birthday. Another year of your life passed both horrifyingly quickly and agonizingly slowly. The thought made you lightheaded and mortified at the realization that so much of your life had been spent with this crew. When did you last see Chucky? It'd been a year since you've seen your friends, since you've been in contact with them altogether.

This time last year, you'd made a haphazard attempt to take control of your life by making out with your colleague. A memory that makes you wince. It does explain why these guys remember the date, seeing as they made a point of visiting you at that bar in the first place. As kind as they might be, a reminder of your birthday and the passage of time might not be as welcome as you'd thought. A million thoughts and more crashed into your mind, and sweat pooled in your palms. How old even are you? 28? 29? No, 30? Probably 30. You'll have to do the math later. Holy shit.  

"Kate bought you a gift," Price's voice snapped you out of your trance, rattling your bones. "Simon is still on the overwatch shift, but I'm sure he says 'happy birthday' as well." 

He placed a delicate paper box beside the cake, one that you were eager to pry open to distract your racing mind from the oncoming existential crisis. In a nest of lavender-coloured shredded paper, she'd bought you a scented soy candle and a crinkling bag of fruit-shaped German candies. It made a smile pull at your cheeks at the gesture, willing your conviction to soften, otherwise you'll have a psychotic break. Lilac and vanilla scented, probably bought at one of the boutiques along the tourist quarter. So thoughtful. 

"How've your duties been?" You asked, manifesting your most polite smile as you rolled the small candle in your clammy palm.

In truth, you didn't have the stomach to eat the sweets they gave you, as out of character as that might be. Stress had eaten away at your appetite, and some odd part of you felt strangled with guilt at the thought of the manmade famine those hostages were facing. It doesn't feel right to gorge on cake and candy while you're on the crew bade to find a way to free the pack of frightened students. Or maybe it would feel worse to abandon the food that's so scarce for others. Maybe that's just another pointless ethical dilemma. 

"A pigeon shat on Gaz when he was on overwatch this morning," Soap snickered, sitting himself on the table beside you. 

"I had half a mind not to blast it into a puff of feathers," Gaz nodded along, breaking into a snort, "but it got too close to the theatre."

"Count your rounds sergeant, we're in a fucking city," Price scolded.

"Sir, yes, sir," Gaz chuckled, grinning wickedly under the bill of his cap.

"What if—" KKpt suddenly spoke up from behind you all, leaving you with a pause in her words as she thought. 

The words sounded so abstract for a moment. They sounded like it was just a random sound she'd formed from her vocal cords, but when you turned, her pressing expression sold her seriousness. It didn't look like the eyes you'd become familiar with when she thought she'd had a minor breakthrough in one piece of the cipher, they were so much more thoughtful than that. Intense, void eyes finally snapped to meet yours, sucking the air from the room. 

"What if they're using carrier pigeons," she finally vocalized the thought that had her shocked that she'd even spoken it. 

"Ah, like the Narcos in the 90s," Professor Kraus grumbled as he fought gravity to sit upright.

"It would explain the physical format," she continued, planting her palms on the white tablecloth before her.

"And the need for a seal," your spinning thoughts lunged into speech, springing to your feet.

Your eyes flashed back to your comrades, whose faces each furrowed into intense confusion as the linguists scrambled. Their three pairs of eyes were intently tracking your expression, drinking in the sudden surge of electricity in your posture and straightening their spines. Price cleared the space across the room in four broad steps, flipping through a blueprint that'd been lazily folded on the table. Other than the sound of quickly flipping papers, the room fell into a charged silence, compounded by thick humidity. 

"We have a list of suspicious characters," Price spoke, quickly putting the pieces together. 

Before you could understand what was what, he was flipping open one of those burner phones, hearing the dial tone from across the room. The Korvettenkapitän had taken a posture over Professor Kraus' shoulder, reading line-by-line through a passage of text he followed with his finger. The dial tone rang again, and seconds passed like hours. 

"Do any of the suspicious characters happen to have an interest in aviculture?" you ask, nodding with Price as he parrots your question to what sounds like Laswell answering the phone. 

He stepped from view, ducking into a small server's closet that would've once been lively, filled with pitchers ice water and lemon slices. Even with the assumption of privacy, apprehensive silence in the room left you able to hear the phantoms of their conversation. He mentioned a possible lead; she responded with something you couldn't hear, and you caught the tail end of something about an 'intelligence database.' Gaz tried to play it off like you all weren't rudely eavesdropping, nervously clearing his throat and sighing loudly, but Soap only leaned forward to get a better listen. The difference in both of their levels of manners was hilariously apparent. Finally, Price concluded with a clear 'understood,' and stepped back into view. 

"Kate will run through the sources. She's just next door," he grumbled, slipping the dinky flip phone back into his belt. "She'll come over if she finds anything." 

"So this is our best lead? Carrier pigeons? " Soap tucked his thumbs into the straps over his shoulders. 

"Yes," you three linguists all proclaimed as one. 

"They're out of supplies in there, time is ticking fast," Price's booming voice echoed in the empty restaurant. "These cultists know we're scrambling. I am sick of them having us on the back foot." 

It's scary to see Price be visibly agitated, even if this is probably far from the extent of his genuine wrath. He's right, though. Playing into the first rash idea you have could be playing into their scheme; it could be a diversion to get you out of the area for them to carry out a more dastardly attack. It's a dice roll, but at least that means you're playing the game now. The influx of energy made the room plunge into another apprehensive silence as everyone collectively paused to digest the conclusion. You couldn't handle the stillness, pacing frantically in laps around your colleagues' workspaces. Gaz pried open the heavy curtain over the front window, creasing darkness with pillars of murky light as he craned to look at the theatre. 

"The hostage-takers won't execute until they're given the order, but that order could arrive at any second," Gaz spoke, dropping the curtain and forcing your eyes to adjust to the darkness again. 

"Then we can't let another order arrive," Soap added, settling down into one of the cluttered table settings. 

"Shoot down all of the pigeons until we get one with the note," Price met your eyes. "From there, we can crack it and get into their communication line."

His directed attention made you feel like he was asking for your authorization. He was looking to you to approve this outcome, assuming you can take the baton from there. Your overstimulated mind stuttered at the foray, swimming in possibilities. It felt thrilling to be seen as an authority, but also devastating at the thought of making the wrong decision. Shoot down the pigeons and collect the notes before the terrorists do. 'From there, we can crack it and get into their communication line.' 

"No. Both the sender and the receiver must have the keys to the one-time pads," you finally found your voice to contribute, and Price's eyes almost imperceptibly narrowed. "If we get the message but don't have the key, we're back at square one,"

"She's right. One is useless without the other," KKpt came to your defence, and you felt the tension in your chest loosen slightly. 

A flash of blonde bangs pushed through the glass doors and entered your peripheral. The temporary break from concentration only served to remind you of how tense your jaw is, reminding you to blink. It felt like the air was sparked with anticipation as everyone fell dreadfully silent, listening to every tap of Laswell's petite boots as she approached. 

"One of our key suspects lives just six blocks away from here. She's been on the German Intelligence's radar for some time… and," she slapped a manilla folder on the table, loose polaroids of CCTV footage showed a hooded figure at a phone booth. "Her parents own a dove aviary business."

"That's our 'Oracle,'" Price's gravelly voice made your heart sink and soar in equal measure. 

"What if this is all just a red herring, and we're wasting precious seconds that we could be using to crack the cipher?" Professor Kraus bumbled, shaking his head in shock. "How would we know if she's even the right person?"

"Under normal conditions, surveillance and patience," Laswell rallied, rocking on her heels. "We don't have patience, and this is all we've got."

"We shoot down any pigeons we see until we get one with a note," Price nodded to Soap and Gaz. 

"Shoot the pigeons? In the city with roosts and windows on every corner?" KKpt folded her arms, scoffing in disbelief." You'd have to have an incredible shot to hit a mark like that."  

"Like shooting a bullet with another bullet while riding a horse, yada-fuckin’-yadya …" Soap murmured sarcastically, fiddling with a stray pen that you'd run bone-dry.

"We have to get her in our custody and stop any orders from coming in," Laswell approached Price, tapping the printed CCTV photos atop the file. "John, I need 141 to raid her apartment nearby and bring her into custody. But be careful, we don't know what kind of security she might have."

"Have we forgotten that there are fucking hostages in the theatre still? " KKpt stepped between Laswell and Price's dialogue, standing her ground against these titans. "We have hours until they start executing them, they should be the priority."

"We can't approach the hostages until we've eliminated the threat. They have that entire theatre rigged with explosives," Laswell countered. "We cannot have any more orders reach the terrorists."

"Hang on…" you interrupted her, pinching your lower lip in thought and feeling every pair of eyes settle on you. "I have an idea."

<< Prev Chapter           Next Chapter>>

Master List

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter Six: Mitsunari POV (gacha) - The Closed Door Conumdrum - We peek inside Mitsunari's brain and discover he's not nearly as absentminded as he seems. Ok. Not as absentminded.

Mitsunari x OC; Nobunaga x Mai

Previous Chapter

Logline - In order to protect a political alliance, Katusko and Mitsunari must pretend an engagement. But this “all business” arrangement is threatened by a coup against Nobunaga… and by feelings.

From the Military Notes of Ishida Mitsunari…

Accurate communication is essential on the battlefield. The ‘fog of war’ can create confusion, cause errors, and even be the cause of self-inflicted casualties. It is essential that prior to a battle beginning, clear lines and methods of communication are established.

Personal comments: Lady Okatsu is willing to eat my carrots, which is a promising development for our alliance.

Additional Note One: Lord Hideyoshi saw the above note and reminded me that carrots are good for me and that I should eat them.

Additional Note Two: Lord Masamune also saw the above and asked me if “willing to eat my carrots” was a euphemism. Am unsure what he meant.

The words of the book he was reading wavered before his eyes, then disappeared. No. It was dark. Everything had gone dark again. Dark and …

Mitsunari reached up and removed the scarf that had been tossed over his head. Mitsuhide stood in front of him, holding a tray that contained several dishes of food (including a main dish that held far too many carrots) and jar of something that looked sticky. Was that a new dessert? And why had Mitsuhide delivered his meal? He dipped a finger in the sticky substance and brought it to his mouth.

“I wouldn’t if I were you. It’s unlikely to kill you, but I doubt the effects would be at all pleasant.” Mitsuhide put the entire tray into his hands. “It’s salve, for Okatsu’s eye.”

“Is she in here?” Mitsunari glanced around the archive room, but the only other occupant was Mitsuhide.

“No. You are to deliver this to Okatsu – I’m certain, that she at least, must be hungry by now.” Mitsuhide paused for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. “I told the maid not to bring her evening meal.”

Why had he done that? Mitsunari was aware that Hideyoshi was upset with all of them, but it was unfair of Mitsuhide to only punish Lady Okatsu. He was also certain that Hideyoshi was unaware that Okatsu wasn’t being fed.

After another long moment, Mitsuhide eventually answered his unasked question. “In order for the charade of an engagement to succeed, you and Okatsu need to figure out how to act like a couple in love.”

Love? Mitsunari liked Lady Okatsu, but he didn’t have the slightest idea how to behave as if he loved her. “What is the best tactic for love? Where would I begin?”

“You need to spend more time with her. Starting tonight. Lovers enjoy sharing a meal together.” He tapped at one of the dishes on the tray. “Lovers converse. Often, they casually touch each other – as Nobunaga and Mai do.”

I wouldn’t be so impolite as to touch her!

Mitsunari’s panic at that instruction must have shown on his face, for Mitsuhide softened his tone. “It is for you and Okatsu to decide for yourselves what feels the most natural.” Mitsuhide gave Mitsunari a light push toward the door. “Having a frank conversation would be the best place to start.”

Lady Okatsu’s door was shut. Mitsunari looked at the tray in his hands and wondered how to slide it open without dropping anything. If he were being honest with himself, he was surprised he’d managed to carry the tray from the archive room without incident.

Well. There must be a trick to it. Maids did this every day and he’d not heard any of them drop trays. But maybe they did? Maybe dropped trays was an ongoing issue that needed solved. What if they were to build small tables outside of each room? That way one could put the tray down, open the door, then pick the tray up again.

Although such a solution might take a while.

Perhaps he should talk to Lady Mai and discuss having the maids deliver meals in teams of two, so that there would always be someone to open the door. Though that would be a waste of manpower, would it not? What if each dinner tray came equipped with an attached stick that could be used as a lever to pull the door open? He was halfway through the schematics of such an invention before he realized that Lady Okatsu’s food was getting cold. Maybe she would open the door for him. “Lady Okatsu?”

He heard her rustling around. “Come on in.”

That… solved nothing.

He started to shift the tray to one hand. It tipped precariously.

Thankfully, before disaster struck, Lady Okatsu slid open the door, let him inside and immediately cleared a space for him to set down the tray. He appreciated her ability to understand what was needed without verbal instructions. It was a good quality to have in a warrior.

Not that she was a warrior. Tonight, she was a civilian, and a wounded one at that. As it had been his slow reaction time that had allowed her to get injured, he owed her an apology. “I’m sorry for-”

“I need to apologize for-” she said at the same time.

“I’m sorry-” Wait… Should he also apologize for interrupting? “I’m sorry you were hurt.” Her eye had turned purple and looked swollen and painful. At the last moment, he realized he’d been about to touch it, and quickly pulled his hand back. “I should have protected you.”

“Oh, no. It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have gone over there in the first place… and once the fighting started, I should have stayed out of your way. It’s my fault. I didn’t think.” She looked away from him, and Mitsunari realized that Mitsuhide had been correct – the two of them did need to learn how to communicate. Not simply to portray love, but at more importantly to be able to cooperate during this mission.

However, medical aid was the first order of business. He handed her the salve and the cloth. “For your injury. Ieyasu makes it.” Second order of business? Determine what had happened at the restaurant. Lady Okatsu didn’t come across as particularly flighty.  “Why did you go to talk to the sailors? You must have had a good reason.”

There was a battered, and unfortunately food splattered drawing on the desk. It was a sketch of a young man, who, from the shape of his face, could be related to Lady Okatsu. “My brother is missing, and the last information I had about him was that he had been imprisoned on a ship of some kind. So, whenever I see sailors – I ask. But normall… Normally they answer my questions.”

She moved the portrait aside and picked up the ointment. After taking a cautious sniff, she dipped her finger in and swiped it across her cheek… missing most of the injury entirely.

He ought to assist her. Perhaps this was what Mitsuhide meant by ‘casual touch.’ “You missed a spot – let me help.”

Lady Okatsu hesitated a moment before sitting down on the futon. She turned her face to him and shut her eyes.

It wasn’t as if he’d never treated battlefield wounds before – but the hurried ‘patch them up and move on’ atmosphere of a medical tent was different from this peaceful summer evening. It was so quiet he could hear the buzzing of the cicadas and the setting sun shone through the window at just the right angle to highlight a hint of red in Lady Okatsu’s hair. Though he knew nothing about women’s hairstyles, he suspected it wasn’t supposed to look like that, with pieces of it falling out of the complicated knot. He liked it though - it made her look a bit more approachable.

Right. The salve. He knelt next to her, dunked his fingers in the jar, and… was that too much? Better too much than too little. He transferred the ointment to her face, doing his best to spread it all over her wound before that extra glob slid-

Oops.

Lady Okatsu shivered.

“Did I hurt you?” Maybe he was putting it on wrong. He reminded himself again that Lady Okatsu wasn’t truly a warrior, for all that she was fierce and efficient.

“No.” She lightly touched the now-oily wound. “It tickled, actually.”

Hm. He had indeed put too much on. He didn’t think it was supposed to look shiny, it ought to sink in. Better try to rub it in a little more. But… now his fingers were all oily too. He tried to get the last of it with his palm, and -

Interesting.

The curve of her face fit exactly into his hand, as if her cheek and his palm were pieces of a puzzle. “There. Done.”

She opened her eyes and Mitsunari realized their faces were too close. And he was still touching her. Mitsuhide’s instructions or not, this did not feel like the prescribed ‘casual touch.’ He jerked his hand away and jumped to his feet.

Lady Okatsu reached up and brushed her fingers across her face in the spot where his palm had been a moment earlier, and he had the strangest urge to put his hand back again. She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

You’re welcome. But the words stuck in his throat, so he smiled and bowed. He should leave. Yes. It was time for him to leave. This was enough getting-comfortable for him.

Her words stopped him at the door. “Wait. Have you eaten?”

Hm. He had not. Right. Eating together was what Mitsuhide had intended.

She beckoned him back inside. “There’s more than enough for two people.”

Yes, this was obviously true, although… “Yes. If you promise to eat all the carrots. I do not like them.”

She laughed. “Sure – if you do the same with the mushrooms.”

Perhaps that was part of what ‘love’ was. Finding someone who would eat the food you did not like. He settled down at the writing desk and watched as she divided up the dishes, keeping the carrots for herself, and transferring the mushrooms into his bowl. It might be a good idea to keep a list of things he liked about Lady Okatsu, so that if he were questioned about the truth of their relationship, he would be able to respond without hesitation.

She eats my carrots.

She is interested in military strategy.

She made sure that books didn’t fall on my—

In that instant, the memory of Lady Okatsu moving the pile of books this morning was replaced with the memory of the elderly bookseller moving a similar stack earlier this summer. He might not be good with names, but he was good with faces and… yes. He was certain that several weeks ago Lady Okatsu had been in Azuchi. And she had been disguised as an old man. Which potentially meant that… “Are you a spy?”

She paused, her food halfway between her bowl and her mouth, and looked warily at him. “No. Why are you asking?”

Best to simply get it all out in the open. “Because you were in Azuchi a few months ago dressed as an old man.”

“How did you know?” She must have determined that she was ok with him knowing because she returned to eating.

“When we met, you were familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I had seen you. Then, today in the bookstore, when you moved those books before they fell, I realized you had done that before.” And… having put together Lady Okatsu and the old man, he suddenly realized she had also been the young man he met outside the castle yesterday morning. Interesting.

She seemed nonchalant about the whole thing. “Yes, that was me. But I wasn’t spying. I mean, to me, spying is sneaking into some place and stealing information that they don’t want anyone to know about, right? I was observing things that anyone could have seen if they were paying attention.”

“Hrm.” He didn’t quite agree with her definition of spying, but he supposed part of that would depend on who she passed on her observations to. “What were you doing with the information?”

“Generally, it’s for those people who don’t want to be caught in the path of warring clans.” Either she was pretending she wasn’t worried, or she truly was not worried. Or… Mitsunari simply wasn’t interpreting her emotions well at all? It could be that. Reading people’s emotions wasn’t his strength. Maybe he ought to tell Mitsuhide and have him question her?

That idea made him pause – Mitsuhide had a reputation, a well-earned one, for his harsh interrogations. The thought of Lady Okatsu (or, whoever she was) at Mitsuhide’s mercy made his chest tighten.

But she anticipated that thought too. “In any case, Mitsuhide knows about the booksellers – my employer runs it – and if he had a problem with it, he would have put a stop to it. He uses it himself as a message drop.”

Ah. That was ok then. It seemed that Mitsuhide had taken the time to find the most qualified person to portray his fiancée. Okatsu was a professional observer (to use her word) and Mitsunari could count on her as a colleague, rather than worry she was a spy. “I ought to have realized Mitsuhide had taken this into consideration already.” He relaxed… then noticed there was another dreaded carrot in his bowl. He tossed it at Okatsu’s dish.

Even better, she could be counted on to simply play her role, and act as a rather specialized warrior. She could pretend to be in love without truly being in love. “If you are a professional observer, Okatsu, then you aren’t someone Mitsuhide forced into this charade. Nor are you someone whose feelings could be hurt.”

“Why would my feelings be hurt?” There was a hit of something less-than-professional in her voice. He’d apparently said something wrong. But he couldn’t think what that might be.

Not daring to look at her, he tried to explain without making it worse. “I don’t want to be in love with anyone. I don’t have time for it, and I don’t want you to think-”

“No worries. Once our fake engagement is called off, I’ll go back to being a messenger and a scout, and I really like that job.” A wayward mushroom found its way into his dish. “Anyway, I imagine being a wife would severely limit my ability to search for my brother.”

Good. They seemed to have sorted out… er… whatever it was that he had said. “We are in agreement then?”

“We are.” She smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back, feeling relieved that they could now be friends and fellow soldiers without the danger of feelings getting in the way of things. This was good.

This was exactly what he wanted.

That taken care of, he thought back to Mitsuhide’s suggestion and asked Okatsu (or should she still be Lady Okatsu? Maybe he needed to continue to use the formal, otherwise he might get it wrong when they were public? Although maybe an engaged couple were allowed to be less formal?) about her life as a courier and was rewarded with an interesting story about a time she had had to help a ninja out of a tree.

He sat back and listened to her chatter away knowledgably about politics and military strategy. On one level, he had a feeling that she had chosen her topics because she knew that these were things that interested him, but she had to have some interest herself to be able to speak so confidently about such things. “I witnessed a couple of the battles of the Siege of Itami last year. Was that triple column your formation?”    

He nodded. The formation hadn’t been what had proved the deciding point in the campaign, though. They’d won when they filled in the castle’s moat… which had been Mitsuhide’s idea.

Before he could point that out, Lady Okatsu moved on to a different topic. “I bet you’re really good at shogi.”

“I don’t know how to play.” He’d wanted to learn but hadn’t made it a priority. Lord Hideyoshi relied on his battle plans too much for him to take the time to learn a new game on his own and he’d not found anyone willing to teach him.

“I know Mitsuhide plays – half the messages I’ve delivered over the past four years have been a part of a long drawn-out game he’s been playing with Aki.” She picked up a cloth bundle, then unwrapped it to reveal a shogi set. “I could teach you.”

That was an enticing idea. As much as he enjoyed listening to Okatsu’s stories, learning to play shogi sounded even better. If he were playing a game, he would be less stressed to think of things to talk about. “I would enjoy that very much. Mitsuhide has refused to teach me.”

Over the past week, Mitsunari had learned two things. One: he very much liked shogi. Two: Okatsu took defeat remarkably well. Rather than be upset that he’d surpassed her abilities, she instead took it as a challenge to improve her own game. Or games, since they’d branched out to Go and ban-sugoroku.

“You two are playing the less exciting version of Go.” Mitsunari looked up to see that at some point, Lady Mai had come into the room with a bundle of clothing. He’d been so intent on the game he hadn’t heard her enter.

There was a more exciting version? He took a quick peek at Okatsu’s face, but she didn’t appear to be familiar with that either, because she said to Lady Mai, “Alright, since you’re clearly waiting for me to ask – what is the more exciting version?”

“Nobunaga and I play with penalties … and favors.” Lady Mai winked.

“Oh! So, if I were to lose, Okatsu could tell me to eat my carrots?” In the years before he’d been sent to temple to be a page, he had played “Go” with his older brother. The penalties for losing hadn’t been much fun. Luckily, he’d quickly learned how to win, although that hadn’t always stopped the penalties. “That might add an element of daring to the game.”

“Uh, yeah. That.” Lady Mai laughed to herself. “Eep.”

“Serves you right.” Lady Mai and Okatsu seemed to be having a conversation that was flying past him. He wasn’t sure if it was the sort of conversation that Masamune and Mitsuhide took part in, or if this was something that would go into the mysterious vault of “women.” He figured if it was important, Okatsu would tell him later.

Meanwhile, Mai interrupted their game in process by requiring that Okatsu try on her new clothing. While his ‘fiancee’ hurried behind a screen to change, he killed time by setting up a shogi game to play against himself. Then Mai handed him a bundle of fabric as well. “I made a couple new kimonos for you too.”

He hadn’t realized that he’d be receiving a new wardrobe for this journey, but he supposed there might be formal occasions where Lord Hideyoshi would want them all to dress up. Rich clothing was a form of armor, he knew, a way to alert others that your clan had money and enough resources to spend it on luxury.

He peeked inside the bundle and saw the not only the purple hues that he normally picked out on his own (it was simpler for him to acquire clothing that looked similar – less chance of mismatching something), but also something in a dark blue-green shade. He sent an enquiring look at Lady Mai.

“I believe that’s Lady Okatsu’s favorite color,” she said to him softly, and indeed a moment later, Okatsu emerged from behind the screen wearing a complimentary lighter blue-green kimono.

“This is easier to move around in.” She turned from side to side, and the material made a soft swishing sound against her body.

That sound of fabric rustling across her body… it created an echoing vibration in his head, that for a moment blocked out all sound. He shook his head to clear it.

He hoped he wasn’t coming down with something.

When he was able to refocus his attention on the present, it was to see Okatsu swirl around and kick her leg up and out to the side. “This is amazing. Thank you!”

Mai smiled just as the door slid open behind her. “This is what I do. But… don’t tell Hideyoshi.”

Lord Hideyoshi and Lord Mitsuhide came into the room. “Don’t tell Hideyoshi what?”

“How much she spent on the fabric.” Okatsu lied to Hideyoshi so smoothly that if Mitsunari hadn’t known she was lying, he would have believed her. In fact, she possibly was telling a truth, but not the one in question.

And Lord Hideyoshi seemed to accept it without a second thought. “Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s your due as an Oda Princess.”

Mitsunari couldn’t decide how he felt about the lying. As a tactician, he thought her ability could be useful. But personally, he hoped that she never lied to him.

If she did, though, would he even be able to tell?

@bestbryn @katriniac @lyds323 @briars7 @lorei-writes