#when i was playing this scenario like a movie in my head the other night LOL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sailoryooons · 5 months

Text

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.

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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.

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bluehoodiewoozi · 1 year

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Seventeen as fake dating scenarios

⟪‘95 + ‘96 line version⟫

other versions: ⟪‘97 + ‘98 + '99 line version⟫

SEUNGCHEOL: saving you from unwanted attention.

You weren’t entirely sure what had possessed you to come to this club that night. It’s not that you didn’t like parties. Rather, you had heard plenty of disturbing rumours about this part of town. And yet, here you were, at the bar, nervously sipping your drink while trying to keep an eye out for your friends.

“Come here often, pretty lady?” came a question from your right, along with a breath that smelled of all kinds of alcohol and freshly smoked tobacco. You willed yourself not to cringe.

“I’m not here to talk to guys like you,” you said and tried to walk away.

He caught your wrist in his hand, pulling you back. “Now, now, no need to be rude. How about I buy you a drink?”

Instead of even considering humouring him, you wondered if anyone would hear you scream over the booming volume of the music. Luckily, you wouldn’t have to.

Your wrist was pulled free from his grasp at a moment’s notice. A broad-shouldered man stood between you and the guy, towering over his seated form, practically oozing with annoyance. “How about you stop hitting on my girl?”

Hold on. Your eyes widened.

He turned to you and offered his hand, smiling kindly before sending you a conspiratory wink. “Let’s go, darling. You said you’d save me a dance before we went home.”

You breathed out, trying your best to not alert the other – possibly much worse – guy. “Right. Let’s go.”

As he led you towards the dance floor, his hand hold yours ever so gently, he told you, “I’m sorry for doing that. You must be scared. I just worried he’d do something to you if I didn’t intervene.”

He seemed nice and attractive enough, you decided after a moment of thought. “Alright. I demand a dance as an apology.”

JEONGHAN: swindling your way through a stupid bet

“Listen, if you do me this favour, I’ll split the money with you, 50/50.”

You should’ve never taken that offer. Not from Yoon Jeonghan. It was taking every ounce of your self-control to not slap his hand every time it came to rest on your waist. You despised this man and everything he did and said and thought. Was 100 bucks worth it?

“Are you guys going to the festival this weekend?” Mingyu wondered, eyeing you two suspiciously. As your best friend, he was more than sceptical and you couldn’t even blame him.

“Of course! My darling is so excited to go see BTOB live. Right, my darling?”

A pinch at your waist reminded you to smile a little nicer and when you turned to “smile” at Jeonghan, you glared at him instead, warning him silently. Two could play that game. Through gritted teeth, you spoke, “Of course. I can’t wait. I hope they perform our song.”

“Our song?”

“Your song?” Mingyu blinked. “You guys have a song? What is it?”

You smiled as innocently as you could, daring Jeonghan to pull you into his shenanigans again. “Yeah, what song is it, my love?”

You were sure every person within a mile of you could hear the gears turning in Jeonghan’s head as he tried to think of a song? “Right. Our song.”

Mingyu’s eyebrows rose in suspicion. “That being?”

Jeonghan relaxed back into his seat. “Of course it’s Movie. (Y/n) and I love to dance to that song. It was our first dance.”

“That’s not a particularly cute song.” Mingyu’s suspicions were rising.

You reminded yourself that there was 100 bucks on the line and said, “Well, we’re not a particularly cutesy couple. I think Movie suits us: it’s fun!”

“Right! And we always—“ you could feel Jeonghan’s venomous glare as he spoke, “–have so much fun.”

JOSHUA: fake proposal for free dessert

“Do you think they offer free dessert for proposals?”

Joshua caught on quickly, already reaching into his pocket. “Supposedly. Or so I’ve read from about a hundred online reviews. Do you want to or shall I?”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” you suggested and he agreed. A quick game determined that you were the winner.

Joshua sighed and let out a soft whine. “But I’m wearing my good pants.”

“Don’t you dare slack,” you warned him. “I expect a proper proposal, one knee and all.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, but the dessert better be good. And!” He lifted a finger to point it at you almost accusingly. “If you even try to do the “but what about your wife and kids” thing again, I will make sure you'll live to regret it.”

“Oh, come on!” You laughed. “It was one time and I agreed eventually, did I not?”

“Yeah, after embarrassing me.”

“But the waiter gave you even more dessert for your embarrassment,” you pointed out. “So if anything, you kind of owe me.”

“This is the last time I do this with you. Only because I doubt anyone would ever propose to you in any other context.”

“Oh, ouch. Just break my heart while you’re at it.”

JUNHUI: partnering up for amusement park rides

“I’m just saying, you’re lonely, I’m lonely, most rides require people to pair up. I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer not to pair up with a complete stranger for every ride.”

He contemplated. “… I hate that you’re kind of right.”

“Okay, perfect. So we’re best friends, going to rides together. Cool?”

“Cool.”

It was not cool. While waiting in line for the newest roller coaster, a sweet middle-aged lady with her daughter tapped on your shoulder to ask you, “You guys are just adorable! How long have you guys been a couple?”

“We’re not—”

"It’s our anniversary today,” Junhui piped up before you could finish your sentence. Your brain completely froze like a 2002 Dell laptop trying to run Minecraft.

Your lack of reaction didn’t stop him. His arm wrapped around you snuggly as he made up an elaborate back-story about how you met while volunteering at a cat shelter and how he asked you out and how he had asked you to move in this morning – none of which was even remotely close to a truth.

“Why would you make all that up?” you asked him as the ride was about to start. “Are you insane?”

He grimaced. “I panicked! Besides – it got us a ride ticket for free, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, because the staff think we’re celebrating our anniversary.”

“Then complain less and remember your back-story. Who knows what other discounts we could get if we keep this up.”

It was then that you realised that you had created a monster.

SOONYOUNG: fake dating to avoid an arranged marriage

“Your Highness, you can’t keep dodging marriage proposals like this. I doubt your parents care that you’re ‘dating’–” he drew air quotes around the word “–the royal pet caretaker.”

“Well, it seems to be working well enough,” you pointed out and affectionately rested your chin against his shoulder as your mother – the queen – passed by the opened doors of the room. You glared after her. “I don’t understand why they want me to marry so bad. It’s not like I’m heir to the throne.”

“And you never will be if you keep acting like we’re an item.”

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it, Soonyoung,” you scolded him playfully and poked his puffed out cheeks.

“I never said I didn’t.”

“Yeah?” You smiled. “You must love all the perks of dating royalty without actually dating royalty.”

He laughed. “Well, I can’t say no to getting an extra dessert after dinner.”

“There’s my boy.” You hummed in thought. “Should we step it up a bit? For more perks for you and less pressure for me?”

“What do you have in mind, Your Highness?”

“First, stop calling me Your Highness,” he grimaced at the idea, “and second, we have to show them we’re serious about this. We have to step up our game.”

“What exactly do you have in mind, princess?”

You smirked just as you heard your mother’s voice coming closer again. “Kiss me.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice – whether it was out of his own free will or because this was a royal order, you would never know.

WONWOO: a cover story for an investigation

“I just don’t think that’s right,” Wonwoo said while staring at the board, his brows furrowed in concentration. “What would be her motive?”

“I don’t know. Money?” you suggested between flipping through the pages of the report you'd been sent. “Maybe she was jealous of her husband’s daughter from the previous marriage and—”

The doorbell rang.

“Please be the pizza guy,” you whispered under you breath but hid the report regardless and rushed to the door. You could never be too careful in this line of work.

Instead, Mrs Yoon – the very woman you had been discussing – smiled at you at the door. “Hi, dear! I just came to check on you; I feel like I haven’t seen you all day!”

You forced on a smile. “Wonwoo and I have just been so busy thinking about how to decorate the house – make it more our own, you know?”

“Oh right! Is your darling husband home too? I wasn’t interrupting, was I?” She winked and you didn’t like the implications behind that. She then leaned over to whisper slyly, “Who knows, maybe you’ll need to decorate a nursery soon.”

You gulped. “Oh, not yet, surely. We’re still—We haven’t even—”

“Darling, who is it?” Wonwoo’s voice sounded like the that of an angel coming to save you from this awkward situation. You breathed out in relief as he added, “Can you come help me move this cupboard?”

“Well,” you smiled apologetically, “it sounds like I’m needed. I’d love to catch up tomorrow though!”

“I’ll see you then, sweetheart!” She left with another wink. You could not have closed the door faster.

“She isn’t catching onto us, is she?” Wonwoo wondered when you returned to him.

You slumped into the sofa. “Nope. If anything, she’s buying our cover a little too well.”

JIHOON: fake dating because he lied to his friends

“I still can’t believe you posted an advertisement for a fake girlfriend,” you mused as you watched him working out.

He scoffed. “I still can’t believe you actually responded to it. What if I was a creep?”

“Fair point.” Not that you’d ever admit that you only responded to the ad because you recognised his name and phone number because you had been harbouring a crush on him this entire year. He never had to know. “So, why are we at the gym? Who are we meeting here?”

“Literally all of my friends that matter. So… I don’t know. How does the whole fake dating thing work?”

“Why are you asking me? You’re the boss.”

“I don’t know. I assumed that because you answered the ad, you must have some experience.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but unfortunately, I do not have any experience. I’ll do whatever you need me to. Well—” You paused, ears burning all of a sudden. “Not everything everything. Like, I have boundaries but—”

“Ay-yo, Jihoon!” Soonyoung’s familiar voice filled the gym. “Are you ready to get absolutely shredded and—Oh.” The previously loud tiger turned into a shy hamster. “Hi. Who are you?”

“That’s (Y/n),” Jihoon introduced with a smile that just naturally screamed confidence, “my girlfriend. The one I told you about.”

Soonyoung’s jaw dropped. “Wait, you were serious?! You have a girlfriend?!” He turned to you. “Are you really his girlfriend?”

Jihoon rolled his eyes, earning a short laugh from you. He then walked over and rested his hand on your shoulder, leaning over to kiss your temple. “Baby, meet Soonyoung. He doesn’t get any less annoying than that.”

NOTE: i wrote these as an attempt to get rid of the stupid writer's block i've been dealing with all month lol

#seventeen reaction #seventeen scenarios #svt reactions #seventeen x reader #seungcheol scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #joshua scenarios #junhui scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #jihoon scenarios

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gay-dorito-dust · 5 months

Note

Hi! I saw your Percy Jackson asks where open and I wanted to send in a request! How would Percy react to a fem reader who is the child of Morpheus the God of dreams? Like I imagine being a child to the God of dreams would make one fall asleep randomly when they are still new to their powers, so how would the scenario play out if perhaps one day reader falls asleep on him during a movie night? Would he stay as still as possible as to not wake her up or would he do something else like gently wake her up/move her? Hopefully I made this detatiled enough but in anyway thank you!!

You were just halfway from dozing off when Percy’s voice brought you from the cusp of a deep sleep to ask:

‘Does your dad look like-‘

‘For the last time Percy no, my dad doesn’t look like Tom Sturridge from The Sandman.’ You replied before he could even finish his question. It wasn’t the first time he asked this question after watching the Netflix show ironically about a man who bore the same name as your godly father, Morpheus, the god of dreams; Something that you now had a bone to pick with Neil Gaiman over.

‘Sooo he doesn’t blow golden sand at people’s faces to make them fall asleep?’ Percy continued to ask but at this point you knew that he was only doing this just to get a rise out of you and also to keep you from falling asleep again.

‘No-will you pack it in, in trying to get some rest from today.’ You said as you lightly smack his arm whilst readjusting your head onto his shoulder for more comfort, already feeling the lull of sleep beckoning you to fall further when Percy once again spoke up.

‘But you already do enough sleeping as it is!’ He cried but tried his hardest not to move too much in fear of agitating you, knowing firsthand how much you hated your sleep being disrupted. ‘And I can’t help that!’ You exclaimed. ‘I’ve been falling asleep at random ever since Morpheus claimed me as his own. It’s almost as though I’ve suddenly developed narcolepsy or something.’ You were still getting use to your powers that for some reason would backfire now and then, causing you to have bouts of almost narcoleptic episodes where you could just be talking to someone then boom; there you were, fast asleep in the strawberry fields or on the sandy dunes of the lake as though it were the most comfortable place known to man.

It worried to everyone to begin with but upon being claimed, it started to make a lot more sense that whenever you did spontaneously fall asleep, it was easier to be accommodated for; letting you sleep because you were mad cranky when woken prematurely. Connor and Travis learnt that the hard way when for an entire week their dreams consisted of being chased by a very angry humanoid goose, as if being chased by a regular goose wasn’t scary enough. Just one of the few perks of being the child of the god who could morph dreams and enter them however he saw fit.

The subject of your tendency to fall asleep at random was soon dropped entirely as you and Percy went back to watching the movie that was already well within it’s third and final act. Well Percy was, you on the other hand…were fast asleep on his shoulder, uncaring of the crook in the neck that you were surly developing from your uncomfortable position. Percy doesn’t notice until he goes to look at you to make a joke on a certain scene but stopped and the words died on his lips as he stared at you adoringly. ‘Why am I not surprised that you’ve fell asleep. Again.’ He says softly to himself as he watched how your grip on his arm would occasionally tighten as though your dream had taken a tonal shift, only to loosen up and relax not a moment after.

Not that I needed my arm or my shoulder anyways. Percy thought to himself as he tried his absolute hardest to stay still for your benefit but he might as well have asked Medusa to make him into stone instead because he was doing such a shit job at not moving at all. It was almost as if all his limbs had minds of their own as they’d move or his fingers would tap against his thigh impatiently as the movie ended and the credits began to appear on screen; With the remote too far for him to reach without waking you up and nothing else to occupy his restless mind, Percy felt as though he was in his own personal hell and heaven, or fields of punishment and Elysium.

For one, he got to admire you as you slept, completely at peace and safe within his presence as you would oftentimes shuffle further into him, making noises of discontent when you thought you felt him move away and tightening your grip; Something he found undeniably adorable as he watched the twitches in your face and tries to guess what kind of dream you were having based off them. Secondly he desperately wanted to move, his brain was telling him to move, but Percy would rather not risk having an angry human sized goose chasing him in his dreams for the next week because he accidentally woke you prematurely from your nap. He knows you wouldn’t do that but in cases like these, it he’d know it be better to be safe and sure then expect special treatment; which upon retrospect sounded a lot worse then getting chased by a human sized goose.

So Percy allows himself the fate of being your makeshift pillow, though not before pressing a kiss to your head, wishing you the sweetest of dreams before inevitably falling asleep himself as he rested his head atop of yours, crook in his neck be damned.

#pjo x reader #pjo imagines #pjo imagine #pjo fanfic #pjo tv show #pjo series #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson imagines #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson fan fiction #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians

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heartsfourdazai · 9 months

Text

๋࣭ ⭑ caught making out. bsd x reader

p2.

gender: gender neutral

type: short scenario/imagine

characters: dazai, chuuya, atsushi, and akutagawa (i will make a part two<3)

warnings: lowercase writing, make-out sessions, suggestive writng, not smut!

๋࣭ ⭑ dazai had you pinned to the wall of the small cleaning closet in the agency. "out'of all the places.." you chuckled, feeling dazai's hot breath on your neck. you could feel his grin on your skin; "don't act like you didn't have the same idea~" you clutch a bunch of his hair and felt your stomach twist'n'turn. you laughed. "shut up and kiss me.." almost instantly you felt his lips smash onto yours, his arms snaked around your waist as he pulled you closer to him, your back arching slightly. a soft moan escaped your lips when you felt his hand grab your thigh, squeezing it every now and then yo get a noise out of you. all of a sudden, the door hitting dazai's back caused him to jump and bit your lip. you screamed in pain, pulling your head away from. the bright light from outside caused dazai to look over his shoulder to see kunikida....words couldn't explain the speechless look on his face. ironic. he clearned his throat, closing the door a little later....you could hear him stutter something along the things of, "he couldn't find the vaccum.." and dazai looked back to you slowly..."well.." he couldn't stop the small blush form to his cheeks, "dazai.." you started, licking your lip, "i think my lip's bleeding..."

๋࣭ ⭑ chuuya had his mouth all over your neck, gently kissing it and sometimes taking a small nibble here and there. your whimpers was music to his ears. he wanted to hear more of it. "c-chuuya~" you whispered, his teeth nibbling your ear lobe softly. "chuuya, please! i want to kiss you!" you begged, already? you wrapped your arms tighter around chuuya's neck, his head moving ever so slowly away from your neck. "needy? are we?~" he teased, causing you to groan. he chuckled, complying to your wishes and connected his lips to your own. taking in the moment of your fingers tugging onto his hair. he licked your lower lip, however before you could open your mouth...the door of your bedroom suddenly opened causing chuuya to shriek and grabbed a blanket, throwing it over your body.. looking up, he saw dazai with a shocked face. in his hand were two bags of takeout and in the other was a tray of soft drinks. "bastard!" chuuya grabbed a loose pillow and tossed it at the man. dazai easily dodged it and smiled, "what a great way to welcome your ex-partner~ i almost feel loved~" he joked, sitting on the chair just in front of the bed. thank god you and chuuya didn't undress- "what the hell, man! it's 10:35! AT NIGHT!" "and i thought this would be a perfect time for a movie night!" dazai turns the television on. "besides~ it's not like i walked in on anything...or did i-?~" - "JUST CHOOSE A MOVIE, DAMMIT!"

๋࣭ ⭑ atsushi waited until the room was empty, before he grabbed your shirt and pulled you in for a kiss. you were shocked, dropping your papers in hand and watched them scatter all over the carpet before your mind was racing. "atsu-" you tried to speak, but the moment his mouth reached your neck and licked it, you were at a lost for words. you whimper, your knees giving and fell on the couch, atsushi following you. pinning you to the cushions. his hand was resting behind your head, playing with your hair while his other hand creased your thigh up and down. "what's gotten-" you squirmed, feeling his neck give you one last kiss. "i needed this~" he blushed. he never saw himself doing this, but he needed to feel you. as you got into the moment, grabbing his hair and started to tug on it, getting him all railed up, the door burst open...ranpo's voice immedialy threw you outta your love trance, and you tried to push atsushi off you, but he hugged you tight, his face exteramly red. "ranpo! get out!" he screamed as ranpo made no reaction to what he just walked into, "just gimme a sec', i can't find myyyyyy-" he trailed, digging into a box full of candies and sweets, suddenly taking out a sucker! "aha! okay, i'm leaving now! don't get your tail in a knot, atsushi!" ranpo held is hands up, putting his lolipop in his mouth and thd door closed behind him. you had a blush on your face, chuckling seeing atsushi hide his face into you shirt. a whine left his lips as you rubbed his head. maybe next time.

๋࣭ ⭑ akutagawa froze. here you were, wearing nothing but your ADA work shirt, already buttoned up, and black underwear. with a scream you tossed yourself back onto your bed and covered your body with the blanket. "a-aku! i didn't know you were- god dammit!" you blushed mad, your legs all shakey and your face hot. there was a moment of silence, making you go more red. did he leave? did he get to uncomfortable? he was the ine who walked in- but still, did he not like the why you looked? did you have to much fat- all of a sudden you felt the blanket slowly reveal yourself, your upper half visible to him and only him. without words, he crashed his lips onto yours and you felt your heart skip a beat. you thought he would've at lease said something!! ... "i'm sorry.." he kissed you again, and again, and again.. "i didn't know you were changing.." he apologized, tracing hid hand up your shirt and rubbed up and down your torso. you kissed him back, "such a gentlemen~" the blanket around your legs began to pull down, the cold air hitting your bare legs. before each of you could do anything, atsushi burst through your bedroom door..."y/n! i've been calli-"he froze. he stopped functioning. all of your were quiet. akutagawa was quick to cover your body with his owb, hugging you close and glaring deadly daggers at the boy. your face was in your boyfriends neck and you had a dark red blush decorating your face. "weretiger..." atsushi saw his life flash before his eyes and started to run out of your hallway, "AH! I'M SORRY! I DIDN'T MEAN- I DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING!! AKUTAGAWA- YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T KILL ME FOR 6 MONTHS- WHAT WOULD DAZAI THINK-AH!" as your boyfriend chased atsushi around your home, you took your time to get changed and looked back at your phone to read 7+ messages from atsushi...saying you were gonna be late for work and he was here to pick you up...like you asked him to yesterday...shit.

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cloudluvrrr · 8 days

Text

Boothill headcannons. 💭

A PROMISE IS A PROMISE 🤞🤞🤞 and I delivered 😍💪 srry ab being mia been busy playing splatoon

My bootyhill is almost MAXXED out yall 😛😛

—

a/n: Boothill gives me Adrianne Lenker vibes yk I can’t be the only one help anyways enjoy this 😛 long asf and I don’t believe in proof reading

— Precyborg: Boothill x g/n reader

tw warning : fluff and sad ending bc we can’t have a happy one according to hoyoverse !! 💕

—

ingyadar - Adrianne Lenker

my kind of women - Mac de Marco

The hitchhikers guide to the galaxy - ARTMS

-I feel like you and Boothill would be childhood lovers yk? Like you two were close friends and ended up catching feelings (I would too) always hanging around each other and getting into trouble l together.

-because to me he grew up in a small town with a big family (I think of like those towns in cowboy movies 😭)

-especially in highschool, but not for long. I’d think Boothill dropped out during freshman year(?) to help with his dads but you continued your studies.

-when confronted about it he scoffed and said ‘don’t need no fancy algebra or biology.’ He’d say.

-he’d see you at school (during lunch) and you two would usually hang out after school. Or during festivals or parties.

-scenario-

You two would always sneak away to the lake when it would get boring, giggling and laughing along the way. This time it was during a town festival, everyone in town went so of course no one would notice if two highschools went missing.

So off you two went giggling as you stumbled behind him holding his hand (in a platonic way ofc). “Boothill wait up!” You’d giggle as you slid down the hill. “Hurry or the sheriff will get us!” He’d shout as he helped you up, and the two of you began to splash water on each other. Up until night and his dads caught him with you again

—

-things like that would often happen, anytime one was missing they’d always assume the other would tag along

-your families of course always shipped you two. And knew eventually you’d date (spoilers you do)

- he’d confess to you on a random summer afternoon. While you two sat on his bed in his room

— you two sat on his bed looking around nervously and awkwardly. It was never like this, Boothill would usually say something but he didn’t, he’s open his mouth but nothing came out. His mouth felt dry, unable to confess. But he mustered up the courage.

‘hey.. I, uh” he began before sighing “I really.. really REALLY like you” he finished with a red face as he looked you in the eyes. As you’d giggle nervously and soon turned into a good laugh. “I really like you too Boothill” you said softly kissing his cheek. As he nearly fainted and tackled you into a hug. ‘Finally’ he’d think to himself

- now that you two are dating nothing much has changed. Other than kisses and leaving the door open when you two hang out (his dads are concerned about him doing funny stuff to you)

-not a day went by that you wouldn’t be with him, at his house or yours.

-he liked pet names mostly using ‘baby’ or your name.

-he knew how to play guitar they taught him in school, but he learned it on his own and would often serenade to you.

-he’d love cuddling though, in his bed specifically. Yours is too crowed for his liking. (He has one pillow). And play a few records he managed to snag that were imported from a different planet

- the sun painted the sky a pink and orange hue, as your laid in boothills arms dozing off to the soft music in the background. As he whispered sweet nothings to you and some jokes that kept you up giggling. “Your cute you know” he chuckled kissing you temple as she squeezed you

-an example of how you’d spend your days, other than teasing and bullying each other 😜

-he was dirt poor. So often he’d ask you for money, which would end up in you hitting his head. But giving in as long as he got you something (most of the time it was burgers 😔)

— up until your graduated, he’d always say how he wanted to leave his dads and live alone with you. So secretly (somehow I don’t know) he’d built a small house with his buddies. ( I feel like you’d move until you were like 20 ig)

-so you’d pack up everything and moved in to the small Cabin. It was small a two small rooms and bathrooms with a big enough kitchen. Also including a farm (of fucking course). Housing his horse, two cows, and a chick coop. A barn dog and cat :3

-you lived comfortably and happily, you’d stay at home and he’s venture off to help others or sell your farm goods.

-he couldn’t propose, he barely had any savings left after buying your couch. So it often got postponed, you didn’t mind (your parents did)

—

-it was a winter night. Boothill was god knows where and you worked in the kitchen making a simple stew. As your pregnant house cat meowed for a piece of beef, you were scolding the cat as Boothill entered the home with a small bundle of blankets in his arms as he closed the door. “Your home.. what’s that?” You’d asked before he walked over showing you the small girl.

“WHOS KID DID YOU KIDNAP” you shouted, startling the little who began to fuss “you idiot I found her..!” He hissed “we don’t have anything for a baby boothill, you know that” you said sighing “I know.. but I couldn’t leave her out there! That’s how my dads found me ya know, aren’t you glad they didn’t leave me to die?” He asked huffing “..sometimes” you shrugged.

—

— there began your journey as parents, you’d sew dresses and onesies for her. As well as ask both of your parents for old baby things, Boothill had a rough time setting up basically everything

‘You can build a house but not a crib’

‘Shut up nerd’

—

You stood outside putting the laundry out to dry on the clothesline. And watched from the corner of your eye the little one and Boothill. As he sat in the shade holding her small guitar he’d made for her, as she sat in the middle and giggled at the kittens playing around her. She’d grown, about 8 months and beginning to walk.

“Da” she said pointing to a certain kitten “yup that’s a kitty” he chuckled watching her gently touch the fluffy ball of fur and giggled. Eventually waddling up to him and falling into his lap as she snuggled him and fell asleep. The sight tugging at your heart strings.

-most of your days were spent like that, her playing with the cats. Her waddling around the home or her touching her guitar Boothill made her.

- up until that fateful day, he’d planned to propose to you before he overheard the damn ipc officers joking about burning the town. He didn’t believe it until he saw it. Everything covered in flames, making sure to leave no survivors. And all he could do was watch as the tears fell from his eyes.

- after

he’d often lay in a run down hotel room, in his own head. Admiring the cheap ring he’d finally gotten you, and one you’d never get to wear. Fiddling with it with his metal fingers as he returned it to the small box.

‘I miss you baby’

_ 😜😜

STREAM ARTMS 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

THIA IS CHAOTIC BUT these r my thoughts

comment like and subscribe 😘😘

I’m not ready for Ruan mei & Argenti rerun 😔💔

my requests open 🤞 look at my pinned post for rules and who I write for 😈😈

- sent from my iPhone 💔

#💫.cloud.luver #honkai x reader #boothill x reader #honkai star rail #boothill #boothill x you #honkai boothill #boothill smut #honkai imagines #honkai starrail #honkai sr #argenti x reader #dan heng x reader #bootyhill

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brownbearwrites · 5 months

Note

it’s Christmas for me rn cuz I’m orthodox and ALL I can think about is ollie and felix fucking u on a Christmas night in a cozy bed 💞 fire works and children screaming cuz of joy and its just u three fucking and sloppy kissing under soft blankets while barbie Christmas carol movie is playing in the background 💞💞💞

i'm sorry i'm so late to this ask but!!! i just about lost my mind thinking about this scenario. anyway it's beneath a read-more because this is uhhh... it's pure smut basically. MDNI!

the kids are all the way at the other end of the house, being tended to by the staff as they run around on their gingerbread induced sugar-highs, playing with their brand-new toys. the holidays were always a busy time for your little family, so it was a delight to be able to retreat to the comfort of your bedroom with oliver and felix for a little bit.

there's a fire burning in the corner of the room, a movie playing softly in the background, and you're sandwiched in between your two favorite boys soaking it all in. you're all nude — because felix gets all fussy when he's not able to touch your skin when you're all in bed together — which makes it oh so easy for hands to wander. it's still too cold in the house to be lounging around nude without beginning to shiver after a few minutes, so you stay beneath the heavy warmth of the covers. a hand that you easily recognize as felix's slides in between your legs, which you obediently spread wide to give him full access, your knee knocking against oliver's thigh. felix rubs you with soft circles until you feel yourself getting wet for him, his fingers lovingly inching lower to slide into you.

you twist your head, oliver's lips catching yours in a sleepy kiss. you moan and pant against him as felix's fingers pump in and out of your pussy. felix leans over you to suck and bite at the exposed skin of your shoulders and collarbones, leaving red marks for him to kiss better.

"she's all ready for you, ollie," he mumbles after a while, retracting his fingers and sucking them clean as he rolls off of you, giving oliver the opportunity to crawl over you to lay in between your still-spread legs. he pecks your lips, giving you a smile that could warm your heart even on the coldest of days. before you know it he's sliding into you, his cock spreading you apart in a way you'll never fully get used to.

"just like that, doll," oliver praises you, his hips grinding to push deeper into you.

"god you two look so fucking good like that," felix moans, brow furrowed as his hand moves over himself beneath the plush blanket, "wish it could be christmas all the damn time. i'd never let you two leave this bed".

#felix catton x reader #oliver quick x reader #felix catton smut #oliver quick smut #felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn smut #saltburn imagine #oliver quick imagine #felix catton imagine #mine #anon

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sugawarassoulmate · 2 years

Text

we've been doin' all this late night talkin'

you flounder in the living room for a second, taking a glance at how the storm doesn’t seem to be letting up at all. akaashi notices this, and the time. it’s past midnight and he’s certain the trains aren’t running anymore. he can’t let a young girl like you venture out into the night all by herself, but a drive back to your place in this weather isn’t ideal and he can’t leave his daughter alone.

“i should probably—”

“just spend the night,” akaashi interrupts. he knows you at this point, you’re much too nice to ask for a cab ride home and you’d probably rather trek through the rain than ever be a bother to anyone. “don’t argue with me on this one, i’m not letting you go out in this storm.” that’s all it takes to shut you up, nodding without another word. you’re such a good girl for always listening to him.

paring: dilf!akaashi x babysitter!reader

words: 2.9k

cw: fem!reader, age gap (reader is in their 20s/Akaashi in his 40s), alcohol, dubious consent, slight manipulation, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, pregnancy mention, minors dni

disclaimer: on this blog, we discuss and explore toxic relationships/situations/just because i write about these themes does not mean i condone/support these types of relationships nor do i do them in my own personal life.

these are fictional characters in fictional scenarios and nobody should be taking real-life advice or mirror the actions of the characters in these stories!

He laughed after hearing the small noise you made when he opened the door, entering the dimmed living room. You were curled up on the couch, a movie playing quietly on the TV. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, shaking the rain from his umbrella as he removes his shoes.

As always, you were quick to apologize, a trait Akaashi always found charming. “Oh, not it’s fine. I probably shouldn’t have been watching scary movies so late at night,” you mumbled, sitting up to put the film on pause. “Kisa knocked out hours ago, by the way. I managed to convince her to remove the facepaint but she insisted on sleeping in her costume so you’ll have a witch in her bed tomorrow morning.”

Akaashi wasn’t surprised. Even at five years old, Kisa was incredibly stubborn, getting into debates (Akaashi didn’t like to call them arguments) with her father over every little thing—not wanting to eat her broccoli or refusing to wear the new sweater Akaashi bought. You, on the other hand, were the Kisa Whisperer, able to get her to compromise and not act so hot-headed.

It was a blessing when you answered his ad for a babysitter. With his job taking so much of his time, and the messy divorce with his soon-to-be-ex, having the extra help means the world to him.

It also doesn’t hurt that you were so pretty. A sweet, obedient college student with such good manners. It took Akaashi weeks to get you to stop calling him “sir,” despite how much he loved how the word came out of your soft lips. “Just call me Keiji, you don’t have to be so formal with me, sweetie.”

Akaashi places his briefcase on the dining table and sighs. “I apologize for coming home so late, I just couldn’t get out of the office, and then the storm caused traffic on the way back. I hope you girls didn’t get caught in it while trick-or-treating?”

“Oh, not at all. I was keeping a close eye on the clouds the entire time. We made it home just fine.” your voice soothes Akaashi’s nerves as he hears you getting up from the couch. “And I don’t mind. Kisa’s such a great kid, I love spending time with her. I took a bunch of photos too, I’ll send them tomorrow.”

You flounder in the living room for a second, taking a glance at how the storm doesn’t seem to be letting up at all. Akaashi notices this, and the time. It’s past midnight and he’s certain the trains aren’t running anymore. He can’t let a young girl like you venture out into the night all by herself, but a drive back to your place in this weather isn’t ideal and he can’t leave Kisa alone.

“I should probably—”

“Just spend the night,” Akaashi interrupts. He knows you at this point, you’re much too nice to ask for a cab ride home and you’d probably rather trek through the rain than ever be a bother to anyone. “Don’t argue with me on this one, I’m not letting you go out in this storm.”

That’s all it takes to shut you up, nodding without another word. You’re such a good girl for always listening to him. He reminds you that extra sheets and pillows are in the hall closet and he has some of his ex’s pajamas upstairs that you could borrow. He has no issue taking you home after he drops Kisa off at daycare.

After he assured you that it wasn’t a problem, Akaashi could see that you were finally starting to calm down. He suggested finishing the movie you were watching before going to bed, he needed to unwind a little bit himself. Before settling on the couch, he grabs a bottle of wine from the kitchen and two glasses and places them on the coffee table.

“I know you’re gonna want to fight me, but you’re off the clock, sweetie,” Akaashi says, putting an end to any protest you’re about to give him. “I’m not your boss right now.” He pours a glass for each of you and hands one over.

He may be old but he can tell when he’s got a woman flustered and it’s written all over your face. So cute. You hold out your glass. “Cheers?” Behave, Keiji, he thinks as both of you clink your glasses.

It turns out horror movies haven’t gotten much better in the past couple of years. Still relying on overdramatic acting and cheesy jump scares, but he figures it can’t be all that bad if it scares pretty girls like you into scooting a bit closer to him. “Did you finish your drink already, sweetheart?” You look over at your empty glass, slightly embarrassed for drinking it so quickly. “It’s okay. Here, have some more.”

You’re more receptive this time, eagerly holding your glass so he can pour more wine. He always took you for a lightweight but seeing it in person was a sight to behold. “Sorry about making you work on Halloween. I’m sure you would’ve rather gone to a party or something,” Akaashi says, taking a sip of his own drink.

“Ahhh, it’s okay,” you giggled, curling up underneath the blanket Akaashi had on the couch. “There’s always gonna be another party.”

“Oh, do you go often?” he asks, chuckling at your quirked eyebrows. “Hey, I was your age too.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you tease, taking another swig—Akaashi’s certain he’s gonna have to refill your cup once again. “I go sometimes…if class gets a bit crazy, it’s nice not to think about work.”

Akaashi’s eyes flick over to the television screen, the dumb sorority girl in the movie starts flirting with the nerd boy character. There’s another thing he remembers about these stupid movies, a cheesy sex scene. A cardinal sin, their days are definitely numbered. But he wonders if their inevitable death will scare you enough that you’ll move even closer. At this point, you’re practically in his lap although it doesn’t seem like you’re aware of it. Are you this oblivious around other people?

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks without thinking, grabbing the wine bottle to refill your glass. He’s shocked and relieved when you shake your head no. “Come on, a pretty girl like you? I would think you’d have to fight these college boys off with a stick.”

Akaashi’s hand touches your thigh, gripping the soft skin. He feels the muscle twitch and a cute hum leave your lips but you don’t make a comment on it. “I don’t have time for boys,” you mumbled, eyes focused on the screen. You must be so tipsy at this point, poor thing, brain too foggy to notice the obvious jump scare that’s about to happen. It’s alright, though, the loud noise sends you leaning against him now.

“Aww, did you get scared, honey?” he coos, hand rubbing your back. Akaashi’s hand travels back to your thigh, running his fingers along the fabric of your jeans. “Are you really comfortable sleeping like that? Remember I have some extra clothes.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine…” But Akaashi isn’t having it, pulling you closer until you’re fully seated in his lap. You gasp in surprise, but don’t make an effort to push him away. On the contrary, you settle in his hold, sighing in relief.

Akaashi plays with the button at the front of your pants, easily spreading your legs so they dangle on the outside of his. “What did I say about fighting me, sweetie? I only want to help,” with deft hands, he undoes the clasp and pulls the zipper down. He’s so elated when you silently allow him to shimmy your bottoms off, leaving your panties exposed. “Doesn’t that feel so much better?”

He truly can’t help himself, thumb brushing against the front of your underwear. He slaps your thigh to placate you when you start squirming in his grasp. “I’m just helping, baby, it’s okay.”

“Noooo, sir, you can’t look at me down there,” the smell of wine is heavy on your breath as you slur your words. “It’s so embarrassing…” But Akaashi stopped listening when you called him “sir.” He thought he trained you not to call him that, but you can’t help it. So stupid with all that alcohol running through your veins. He’s feeling the effects of his few drinks—he would never be so forward like this but fortune favors the bold.

“Is that why there’s a wet spot right here?” Akaashi asks, touching between your legs once more, purposely reaching for the damp spot that’s slowly growing. He hears you whine again but quells it with a simple shush. “We have to be quiet remember? You’re gonna wake Kisa up.”

That makes you bite your lip, stifling any cries that would fall out. But it doesn’t do much to hinder Akaashi from touching you. His fingers playing at the hem of your panties. He could feel you trying to bring your legs together, but he keeps them spread. “Will you let me touch you, baby? I’ll make you feel so good,” he breathes.

Even in your embarrassment, you’re still a good girl and nod, boosting his ego. With the green light, Akaashi wastes no time plunging two of his fingers inside you. He’s quick to cover your mouth with his free hand, suppressing the cry before you can wake up the whole house. He even has to catch himself for a second, head lolling back at how wet you are. Fuck.

The vice grip you have around his hand tells Akaashi that you’re going to feel so much sweeter when he has his cock in you. Perfect, he thinks. The thought of some inexperienced college boy on top of you, failing to make you cum, made him uneasy. A good girl like you needs a man. You’re still young and inexperienced—you need someone to show you real pleasure.

He’s more than happy to take up the mantle.

Akaashi’s other hand travels up your shirt, tugging at your bra until one of your breasts spills out. The flesh is so soft in his grasp, he has to let out another groan. He fucks you harder with his fingers, turning your head to swallow your cries with rough kisses. There’s a fire inside Akaashi that he didn’t know existed. It certainly wasn’t there during those last few months of his marriage or with those one-night stands he had to fill the void.

He needs you to cum, needs to feel your juices running down his arm. Akaashi pays attention to your clit, circling it with his thumb just enough to see your legs start shaking. “Does it feel good, angel?”

You cutely whine against his lips, “Yes…it feels so good, sir.” Akaashi has to compose himself when your hips start moving When you’re fucking yourself on his fingers, chasing your high any way you can. God, he’s really gonna fuck you up. “Ahh, sir—sir, I’m gonna!” You whine into your hand to cover up the sounds, creaming around Akaashi’s hand as your eyes rolled back in bliss. He lets your body rock through it, free hand playing with your buds. Rolling and tugging them between his fingers.

“Honey, you’re making a mess all over me,” but Akaashi’s the opposite of upset. He wants to lick all of it up until he’s drowning in your sweet nectar. He wants to bury his face in between your legs and make you cum over and over until your brain is mush. But he’s hard and leaking in his pants and while he knows he can hold out as long as he needs to, Akaashi needs to experience the feeling of your cunt around him.

While you’re still feeling the effects, Akaashi wraps his arms around you and hoists you up, carrying you bridal style. “You’re gonna feel so much more comfortable on my bed, baby,” he whispers, trekking up the steps, down the hallway, and far from Kisa’s room where she’s fast asleep. He sets you down on the plush king-sized mattress and smiles at how quickly you settle into the silk sheets. “Feels good, yeah? Wanted to have more room while I fuck you.” Akaashi breathes, unbuttoning his shirt before climbing into the bed and hovering over you.

You’re staring up at him with wide, doe eyes. So naive to what’s to come. “Oh, I’m gonna fuck you. Wanna see you cum from my cock, okay?”

Akaashi kisses you again, smothering your noises of affirmation. He pulls the rest of your clothes off, savoring the sight of your naked body, the swell of your breasts, and your glistening cunt between your legs. Next time, he thinks. Next time Akaashi will reward himself with fucking you with his tongue. His cock hits his abdomen when he finally frees it, kicking his pants and boxers down and stroking himself with anticipation. “It’s gonna go so deep in you, but I know you can take it. You’re such a good girl…”

The words only make you squirm more underneath him. Akaashi stops stalling and rubs his cock against your folds, cursing under his breath from how wet you are. It’s so easy for him to slip in, easily stretching you out until he’s buried at the hilt. He has you folded in a half, pushing at the back of your thighs to reach even deeper.

Such a dumb, pretty girl you are, letting a man twice your age fuck you unprotected. You’re so lucky that it’s Akaashi doing this and not some other man who’d take advantage of you. He can take such good care of you—make you feel good, get your eyes to roll to the back of your head, you’ll never want to look at another man again.

“You’re so big,” you gasp, fingernails digging into Akaashi’s skin when he sets a slow pace. Akaashi pulls nearly all the way out before meeting his hips once again with yours. He can tell you’re getting addicted from the way your cunt spasms around him, clenching down to the point you’re practically choking him.

A pretty girl like you will definitely let him cum inside, fill up that young, fertile womb of yours. Oh, how adorable would you look with his seed spilling out of you? Or even better, plump and round with his baby? He’s always wanted a sibling for Kisa but his bitch wife wouldn’t allow it. But you wouldn’t fight him. Akaashi could be able to provide for you if you’d just let him.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. Never felt a pussy this good in my life,” he mumbles, leaning down to kiss you, slightly changing the angle of his thrusts. The sounds of you crying out are intoxicating, he could drown in it.

"You ever felt someone's cum inside you, baby?" Akaashi asks in between kisses, groaning at the sight of your breasts bouncing as he fucks you.

"No, never..." you sigh, mouthing a small fuck as Akaashi keeps going.

He kisses you harder and the pride that's been bubbling inside him burns white hot in the pit of his stomach. He might not be the first to claim your body, but he'll definitely be the first the breed you—and that feels so much better.

Akaashi brings a hand to your chin, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes were fucked out, mouth wet with spit. So beautiful. "It'll make you feel all warm," he says against your lips. "You'll feel so full and when it runs out of you—fuck. You'll love it so much, baby."

Wrapping your legs around Akaashi's waist, you pull him closer. "I want it! I want your cum, sir," you whined and Akaashi has you right where he wants. A dumb, cock drunk girl crying underneath him.

It's perfect. You're fucking perfect.

"God, I'm gonna fucking ruin you," he grunts, moving faster. Akaashi's thrusts get sloppy, losing his rhythm as he fucks you with purpose. "Gonna make you so full of me."

You're crying, fat tears running down your cheeks as you're overcome with pleasure and the feeling of your nails dragging down Akaashi's back tells him that you're cumming once again.

It's so messy, your walls form a vice grip around his cock, and Akaashi, the experienced man that he is, can't help it. He cums with your name on his tongue, flooding your sinful cunt.

Both of you stay like that for a while. Akaashi's cock twitched inside you, making sure there isn't a single drop wasted. After a while, he wipes any stray tears that fall, kissing your warm cheeks with praises in between.

"You did so well, sweetie. You took all of me," he says, holding your shaking frame. He gives you a few seconds before peeling away and pulling his cock out, eyes locked on his seed flowing out of your cunt and making the mess he knew it would. "Look at that..." he whispers, completely mesmerized.

He knows he has to clean you up, but Akaashi lets himself enjoy the sight for right now. He'll keep the end of his bargain and drop you off at your place in the morning. But a part of him hopes you'll want to stay a little longer. You can be his cute live-in nanny, who takes care of his angel in the morning and gets fucked dumb at night.

You’ll do it for him. You’re a good girl after all.

#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi #akaashi scenarios #keiji akaashi smut #akaashi smut #akaashi keiji smut #keiji akaashi x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyu smut #dilf haikyuu #✨#✨akaashi #peach's spoopy season 🎃

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matryosika · 1 year

Text

Maknae Line: Love Languages and Sex

Wordcount: 6,250 words

Genre: Smut, headcanons and scenarios.

Includes: Skz maknae line members, female reader, dirty dialogues. Mentions of stress in Seungmin's scenario, and the tiniest bit of angst too.

Author's note: Finally, the maknae version is here! I know it took me a while, and I apologize, but here it is. This is all lovey-dovey, just sweet filth. I had tons of fun writing this, so I hope you guys like it. If you want, you can check out the Hyung Line version here. This is not proofread, and english is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Enjoy!

If you wish to support my work further, please consider buying me a coffee! The job hunting has not been good pretty far, so every single tip is appreciated. Also, feedback, reblogs and comments/asks are very motivating for me to keep on posting. I love you.

Smut warnings: Dirty dialogues and curse words. Use of petnames, mutual masturbation (for Jisung's scenario), oral sex, face fucking (for Felix's scenario), cum eating (for Felix's scenario), shower sex (for Seungmin's scenario), choking (for Jeongin's scenario), body cumshot (for Jeongin's scenario), also possessive Jeongin because I love him so much.

Jisung: Physical Touch and Quality Time

"Is this one okay?”

Jisung has been scrolling for about 20 minutes over the movie catalog, trying to pick a movie for you to watch together.

A waste of time, you think. It’s not like you’re going to watch it anyways, and he knows it. But he still spares some of his time to try and find the right one, something you'd want to watch... or have as background noise while you two make out.

“Yeah,” the movie looks promising, but considering’s Jisung’s sneaky hand between your thighs while he mindlessly stare at the screen in front of you two, you’re really sure you’re not going to pay any attention to it. “That one’s good”.

Once the movie starts playing, you two settle in beneath the warm blankets with all sorts of snacks, candy and chips to munch from, happily enjoying each other's company.

Because of college and part-time jobs, it’s has been a while since you last enjoyed a chill, relaxed weekend with your boyfriend. Surely, he does everything he can to meet you throughout the week —a quick call between your classes to chat for a while, an unexpected invitation to eat or have dinner, driving to where you work so he can pick you up and drive you home… Jisung always finds a way to spend some time with you, even for ten or fifteen minutes.

That's why whenever you two are free for the day, he rushes up to your apartment, or ask you to meet in his, just so he can spend all day together with you. Sometimes you two go out and enjoy a nice dinner somewhere, followed by a late-night walk through Seoul’s streets. Some others, you’d rather spend your weekend at home, ordering take out and just unwinding together like you’re doing right now.

But almost always, such dates end with you two fucking like you haven’t seen each other in months.

“The screen is right in front of you, Ji,” you tease him, once you realize his undivided attention is all over you, and not the movie he allegedly chose because he has been meaning to watch it for a while now.

“I know,” he simply replies, tilting his head while his loving eyes keep staring at you.

You turn your face to him, defeated. “You know, ever since we started dating I’ve never been able to watch a 2-hour movie complete”.

Jisung smiles fondly, letting out a soft scoff. “Am I really the only one to blame?”

“That’s not the point!,” you can feel the heat in your cheeks when he says so, but you try your best to remain calm. “The point is that you’re not paying attention to the movie, and it’s really good”.

“Oh, so you’d rather watch the movie?” his teasing tone tells you that you’re most definitely not going to keep on watching the movie, not even if you tried.

And although you’re not a fortune teller, the sudden touch of his hand against your inner thigh proves you right.

“If this is what you wanted since the beginning, why bother spending hours looking for something to watch?” you hum, spreading your legs underneath the comforter, welcoming Jisung’s touch.

He gives you a mischievous look before returning his attention to the screen, leaving his hand between your thighs without doing anything further.

“You know, you’re right,” he sighs, cuddling into his spot. “We should watch the movie, we’re almost halfway through it”.

His touch isn’t foreign to your body, but that doesn’t mean you’ve gotten used to it. Every time he touches you, it feels like it’s the first time he ever does so. It feels like a spark of electricity, one that ignites your desire in no time.

“Yeah right,” you chuckle, shifting your position on the couch to get close to him. “You’re saying so like you’re not going to forget about the movie in 5 minutes”.

“Do you want to bet?”

Typical Jisung. His fun and always-down-for-a-challenge personality is probably one of the things that made you fall in love with him profoundly, so you smile at him. “Bet what? That you can’t keep your hands off of me?”

“You can’t keep your hands off of me,” he mocks you, staring at you with loving and playful eyes. “I’m just too handsome for you not to crave me all the time”.

You roll your eyes, but you know he’s right. There’s something enticing about him, something that captured your attention ever since the day you met him for the first time. You can’t think of going on a day without kissing him, or touching him, or letting him fuck you in every room of your apartment.

“Okay, okay, I think we’re even,” you tell him, leaving a quick peck on the corners of his lips. “You crave me just as much as I crave you”.

Jisung pouts because of the quick kiss, his hand moving from your inner thigh to your hip. “So we can forget about the movie, then?”

You chuckle softly, brushing your nose against his as he leans over your for another kiss. “It’s not that good, anyways”.

“No?” the dark-haired purrs against your lips, kissing you deeply while his tongue grazes yours. He only stops the kiss to let you breathe for a couple of seconds, but kisses you again right after. “Is this better?”

“A hundred times better,” you smile, still kissing him while his hand gets lost in the hems of your clothing.

Next thing you know, the comforter has been discarded to the floor and Jisung's running out of clothes to take off from you, only leaving you in your underwear. His hands touch and grope your body like it’s the first time he touches it, like he is just exploring it despite knowing it very well.

Jisung always touch you like he has been craving it for ages, dragging his palms over the sides of your body and pressing you against his to feel you even more, completely at all. He kisses and licks your neck and chest, letting out quiet moans in between, enjoying your smell and the way your skin welcomes his love bites by turning shades of pink and red.

You latch your fingers onto his dark, soft hair when he slides your underwear to the side, his fingers immediately offering you the much needed stimulation. You do the same, sneaking your hand underneath his underwear to find his erected cock that is already leaking, practically begging for your touch.

“You got one thing wrong, though,” he murmurs in between kisses, shifting his position on the couch just slightly so that you can comfortably masturbate him while he does the same for you. “I don’t think it’s possible for you to crave me more than I crave you”.

“Do you want to bet?” you chuckle against his lips, drowning a moan when you feel his cock throbbing inside your fist.

The more you jerk him off, the sloppier Jisung’s fingers get, and the more he stimulates your clit, the slower the rhythm on your wrist —it’s a neverending moment. You’re kissing while pleasing each other, moaning in between, losing the pace of your ministrations as you both chase your highs, murmuring sweet nothings under your breathes, interrumpting the kisses to look at each other with lustful eyes and furrowed eyebrows, parted lips and quiet whimpers.

It doesn’t take you long to come in each other’s hands, making a mess of yourselves and your underwear. You’re now dirty, and practically naked, so Jisung can’t lose the opportunity to change his mind about the movie.

“Do you want me to run a bath for us, baby?”

You’re sure you know how that is going to end, but you can’t refuse.

Felix: Words of Affirmation and Quality Time

You both have been waiting for this exact moment ever since the last time you saw each other. Which was two days ago, but it felt like ages.

Tonight, you’re supposed to attend a dinner party of one of your closest friends, but you’re really struggling to get out of bed. Especially because it's Felix who's holding you hostage between his arms, pouting and whimpering every time you remind him of the very little amount of time left to get ready.

“Let’s ditch the dinner,” he tells you, snuggling underneath the bedsheets and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Let’s stay like this all night. What do you say?”

You throw a pillow at him and get free from his hold. Truth be told, you'd rather accept his proposal, but you can't ditch on this very close friends of you, especially on such an important occasion as a birthday is.

“Come on, Lix,” you murmur, walking towards the bathroom mirror to do your makeup. It had been a wise decision to take a shower before cuddling each other during the afternoon, otherwise you'd be more in a rush than you already are.

You hear him groan, and curse, and groan again until he meets you at the bathroom, joining you in the sink to brush his teeth and do a little bit of makeup.

When he approaches you, you notice his semi-hard bulge underneath his grey sweatpants as he relentlessly tries to fix and conceal it. Perhaps the cuddling session got to him, and he would rather stay at home and fuck you on every position known to mankind than going out and missing the warmth of your body.

You understand him, though.

“What?” he chuckles, his deep voice startling you minutes after being shamelessly looking at his crotch. “Did you change your mind?”

Hadn’t been this a very close and dear friend of yours, you’d cancel them on the spot. But you really want to go, so the plan is still on.

However, it doesn't really matter if you get there a little late, does it?

“No,” despite your answer, the way you close your cosmetics bag mid-through your makeup confuses Felix. “But we can have fun of our own before meeting our friends, don’t we?”

His eyes widen just a little. “We’re not going to make it on time if we start,” he tells you, tilting his head flirtatiously towards you.

“The point is to be there,” you reply, planting a wet kiss on his freckled cheek. “I don’t mind if it takes us a little while to get ready”.

Felix wraps his arms around your body and holds you close to him, forcing your lips against his in a peck that quickly, turns into a heated french kiss.

He kisses oh so deliciously. Never too rushed, and never too sloppy. He kisses you slowly and roughly, fucking your mouth with his tongue and biting your lower lip in between, pulling it just in the slightest to earn a hiss from you.

“You’re only getting me harder,” Felix murmurs when you interrupt the kiss to breathe. Judged by the strong pressure against your thigh, you can only assume he’s right. “I’m gonna need to jerk off or else I'm going to spend the entire dinner like this”.

“Jerk off?” you query with knitted eyebrows, your hand playing with the hems of his sweatpants and underwear, “I’m right here, Felix”.

“I don’t want to ruin your make up,” it’s not fully done yet, but he doesn’t want to discard your efforts in what you had by now. The eyeliner and mascara were surely going to make a mess —last time he fucked you, you both realize it wasn’t as waterproof as they claimed them to be. “And I don’t want to make a mess out of you either”.

“I don’t care,” you whisper, leaving a trail of kisses from his lips, along his jaw and into the crook of his neck, “let me help you”.

“I won’t take responsibility for anything,” Felix warns you while not being able to divert his gaze from your figure that's currently kneeling in front of him. He rests his body against the edge of the bathroom countertop, with his back facing the mirror, and guides his fingers to your freshly brushed hair, “so you better start thinking about a new outfit option”.

“Got it,” you hum, lowering his clothes to release his erection that's throbbing and pulsating inside your fist, begging for you to pay attention to it. “What about that black dress you like so much, huh? Should I wear that one tonight?”

Felix closes his eyes and throws his head back when he reminds the piece of clothing you’re referring to. Not only that, but the memory paired with the feeling of your warm tongue swirling against the tip of his dick earns you a deep moan from him.

“Y-yes,” he hisses, forcing his head down and opening his eyes to admire the whole scene. “But don’t expect me to keep my hands off of you tonight if you do”.

You smile while smacking his cock against your tongue, tasting the salty precum from his tip. He looks beautiful from this angle —his slightly sloping face is commanding, and his normally gentle eyes are now dark with desire.

“Like that,” Felix encourages you, grabbing a fistful of your hair while forcing your head back, “do that again for me”.

You stick out your tongue further and slap his cock against it yet again, making sure to put on a full show for him. You let drool fall into your chest, staining the dress you’re currently wearing —and the one you were supposed to use at the birthday dinner tonight— but you don’t do anything about it because you know how much Felix likes that.

“Fuck,” he sighs, guiding the grip on your hair towards his dick, asking you to take him fully inside your mouth. You follow compliantly, because that’s exactly what you want too. “You’re so- fuck, so fucking beautiful”.

Felix has a way with words. He's very vocal at all times, especially when it comes to sex —not a day goes by without him praising and complimenting you. That’s just one of the many ways he shows his love towards you, and he knows how much you love it.

“Since when does your pretty mouth can take me so well?” You hold your breath when your nose hits his pubic bone, drooling all over his cock as he says so. After much fooling around with Felix, your body has grown to know him fairly well, “you’re making me feel so good”.

You take his cock out of your mouth and continue stroking him using your own drool as lubricant, offering him a delicious friction that has him gripping the edge of the bathroom counter until his knuckles turn pale.

Felix does his best to keep his eyes open, staring down at you while you suck on his cock eagerly, demanding something he can only give you. He’s just about to give it to you, but he wants to elongate the moment as much as he possibly can.

“Look at me,” he demands, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. “I want to come while looking at your face”.

You're definitely not the best looking right now, with all the drool spilling from your mouth and your eyeliner and mascara smudged, but Felix thinks you've never look prettier. He loves this side of you, the dirty one.

He caresses the side of your face with his thumb, wiping away a few tears running down your cheeks after taking all of his dick inside your mouth. “I love you so much,” Felix quietly moans, his words getting overshadowed by his heavy breathing, but still managing to reach your ears nonetheless. “I love you so- fuck, so fucking much”.

You smile against the tip of his dick and increase the movement of your wrist around him, getting yourself ready for his orgasm —an orgasm that doesn’t take too long to happen, shooting white ropes of cum onto your face and dress while he curses and whimpers your name under his breath.

After a couple of seconds of him overcoming his high, and you licking his arousal up until he’s clean, Felix helps you get up from the floor and kisses you just as deep as earlier, tasting himself off of your tongue.

“I’m fully convinced I want to marry you,” he chuckles against your lips, licking up some of his cum on your chin.

“Well, my hand looks a bit empty without a ring, you know?”

Seungmin: Acts of Service and Quality Time

When you called him, crying over the phone, Seungmin's heart was practically wrenched.

“I’m so- I’m so fucking stressed,” despite his efforts to try and talk to you, asking you what’s wrong, you just couldn’t begin to explain him that there was nothing, specifically, wrong. You just felt overworked and tired because of college, and you were having a hard time handling everything.

“Where are you right now?”

“College campus,” you tell him, trying your best to look collected while crying, sitting on a bench not too far from the main building. “I’m supposed to attend another class in like-”.

“I’m picking you up,” it's not a question nor a proposal. It's an affirmation, one that you're ready to argument.

“No, Seungmin. It’s okay, I-”

“You’re not okay, you’re crying,” his voice is filled with concern, and judged by the noises in the background you can tell he’s walking while on the phone. “Let me take care of you”.

You agree, but feel guilty immediately afterwards once you realize that he probably left everything he was doing just to meet you. You didn’t ask him to, but he showed up a couple of minutes later, picked you up and drove you to your apartment, staring at you from the side every now and then just to see if you were okay.

“I’m sorry,” you exhaled. “I overreacted, I don’t know why I cried like that and I- just wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t mean to worry you, it’s really not a big deal. I’m just stressed over college and that’s it”.

“You’re rambling,” he cuts you off, sweetly and delicately as he always does. It’s not that he doesn’t want to listen to you, because he always does, but he knows you have this habit of rambling whenever you’re anxious. “I drove all the way here because I wanted to be with you”.

“Yeah but-”

“Hamburger or pizza?”

“Huh?”

“What are you craving for dinner?” Seungmin has always said he is not very good with emotions, but you disagree —he might not be one to use words, but his actions always speak louder. “I’m craving pizza, but I don’t know if you’re down for that”.

“Pizza is good,” you reply. “But let me- I just want to apologize, really. I feel so fucking silly for throwing a tantrum like a child”.

“Child’s tantrums are way worse,” he interrupts you, but his voice is so soft and delicate that you can barely hear it over your rushed, disorganized speech.

“My point is that I’m sorry for crying on the phone like that. You didn’t need to do all this, and now I feel awful. It’s just college stress, nothing I can’t handle”.

“And my point is that I know you can handle everything, as you always do,” he reassures you, turning to face you at a red light, “but I want to help you handle everything, too. If you call me crying, I don’t see why I can’t rush out to you and take care of you, it doesn’t matter the reason behind those cries”.

There's a lump in your throat that threatens to make you cry again, but this time for all the opposite reasons. You’ve never felt this safe and loved until you met him.

“So pizza it is?”

He drives to your favorite pizza place and orders take out —the sky is getting grey, and the wind is getting chill so he would rather have dinner at the coziness of your apartment. You both eat, unwind, talk about your day prior to meet each other, and enjoy the company that you desperately needed today.

“I think I’m going to take a shower,” you inform him after doing the dishes together. “I think it’ll help me sleep better”.

“Mind if I join you?” Seungmin asks you, drying his hands with a small, kitchen towel. “Both to shower and bed”.

It’s not every day you get to sleep in the very same bed as him, so you agree without thinking it twice. Knowing you’ll get to spend the night with him makes you forget about all the daily stress already, so you’re grateful he’s sharing his time with you.

“Close your eyes,” he warns you with a smile and hands full with shampoo foam. You follow his order compliantly, and the next thing you feel are his hands massaging your scalp and hair with shampoo. “Close them!”

“I’m sorry,” you giggle, closing them immediately afterwards. “I just want to see you”.

“Let me rinse this off, alright?” he guides you underneath the shower faucet and starts wiping away all the foam, delicately caressing your face while the water rinses off a whole day of stress. “Don’t open them yet, or else it’ll sting”.

It’s practically impossible to ignore his touch and body pressing against yours throughout the whole interaction, and he probably notices this too —your nipples are hard, both from the stimulation and the feeling of warm water running through your body, and you can’t help but whimper every time they rub against his bare chest.

“There,” Seungmin murmurs, encouraging you to open your eyes. The first thing you see is his gaze underneath his dark, wet hair, followed by bright smile.

You tip toe a bit to reach his pink lips, and you leave a wet peck in the corner of them. A quick, single kiss that makes Seungmin’s bright smile turn into a flirty, soft smirk.

He brushes a few wet strands of hair away from your face, and caresses your skin while tilting his head. You know he wants this, just as much as you want it too, but he probably felt too scared to make the first move, considering the wholesome moment you were sharing.

“Can I?” he’s leaning over you, with both of his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips dangerously close to yours.

“Please,” you nod, closing your eyes even before you felt him kissing you.

It starts of slow, but gets gradually deeper as he holds you tightly against him; the water is still running, but it feels ten times warmer now.

“I don’t want to ruin the moment like this,” you whisper, feeling your heart racing, “but I really want you to fuck me”.

“How could that ruin the moment?” Seungmin chuckles, guiding his hands to your ass.

“I don't know, you're being so sweet to me and all I can imagine is how it would feel to have you deep inside me right now,” you confess, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You don’t have to imagine it, you know?” his hands guide you to turn around on your feet, and he presses his chest against your back until you’re trapped between him and the wall. You can feel his erection against your ass, and that alone has your pussy clenching around nothing, wishing it was his cock you were clenching around. “If you want, I can fuck you right here”.

You feel him kissing and nibbling at the skin on your shoulders and neck, and you immediately melt between his arms, “I want you”.

You can’t see him but, once he guides his hand to your core and feels your wetness, the soft scoff he lets out tells you he’s probably amused by your neediness. “You’re all ready for me, hm?”

You press your cheek against the cold, wall tiles, and arch your back a bit more —just enough to allow him a better access to your pussy. He places one hand on your hip, while the other guides the tip of his cock to your cunt, teasing your folds and rubbing it against your clit.

“Please fuck me,” you whine, laying both of your palms flat against the white tiles.

“Take a deep breath for me,” he latches his lips to your neck and the next thing you feel is a sudden stretch between your legs. You let out a painful moan, as you’re definitely not used to have him fucking you while standing.

It’s a challenge, really. The second you felt him entering you, your legs threatened to give up on your weight.

“Don’t worry,” Seungmin hisses once he bottoms out, feeling your walls hugging him tightly. He can feel how tense you are, trying hard to hold on to anything to prevent you from falling, “I’ll hold you tight, won’t let go of you, okay?”

You nod, barely frantically, and relax on the spot. You trust him Seungmin wholeheartedly, so you get completely carried away by the feeling of his cock hitting the right spot inside your pussy.

He reaches his hand forward, into the small space between your abdomen and the wall, and guides his fingers towards your clit, rubbing it gently while fucking you.

“J-just like that,” you moan. “I’m- I’m getting close”.

“Yeah?,” Seungmin purrs, managing to keep the pace between his thrusts and his fingers. “Come for me, then”.

You blame it on all the time you spent without being able to fuck with him because of your schedules, but truth is that Seungmin always makes you come really fast. He knows your body well enough by now, and he pleases you like no one has before. And could he not be? If he has spent hours and hours touching you, eating you out and fucking you so he can be the best at pleasing you.

“Seungmin,” you gasp, feeling your legs shaking and your mind dizzy. If you let go, you’re sure your face is going to meet the floor.

But, as if he could read your mind, he wraps his arm around you and holds you right in place, giving you all the support you needed. “Now,” he moans, “you can come”.

You finally let go between his arms, pressing your face against the wall while Seungmin takes care of everything —from helping you ride your high, to keep you standing on your feet.

He holds you while you overcome your orgasm, feeling your heart beats and the way you breath. He is close to coming as well, but you’re always his priority in moments like this.

Always so caring and sweet.

Jeongin: Physical Touch and Gifts

[19:28, You: I’m here]

[19:28, You: Where are you?]

You stare at the big, white letters on top of the entrance of the store, and you can begin to guess what this urgent meeting is all about. It’s not the first time you visit it, and it is most definitely not going to be the last, you think.

There are a couple of people inside, people who make you feel as if you’re underdressed to go jewelry shopping —not that you had clothes to match the ocassion, but you didn’t expect to end your day standing outside one of Seoul’s most expensive stores.

“Hey!” Jeongin greets you from inside, smiling widely once he spots you. He walks towards you and the brightness in his eyes tells you that he's most definitely excited about something.

“What is it?” you immeditaly asked, catching his smile.

“I stopped by and I wanted to gift you something,” he grabs your hand and guides you inside the store, following a path and turning around every other table until you reach the jewels in exhibition he’s excited about, “I didn’t know which one you liked best, and I tried to take a picture of them but the camera didn’t make them any justice”.

“What’s the occasion?”

“You,” Jeongin tilts his head. “You’re the most beautiful woman I know, and these are the most beautiful necklaces I’ve seen in my entire life. Is only fair for you to have them”.

“I don’t- These are too expensive,” you furrow your eyebrows, not knowing the final price of each and confident you're better off without that information.

“So?”

“I can’t accept one,” you shake your head. Your eyes encounter an emerald and diamond necklace that’s too stunning it caught your attention —Jeongin has good taste, you have to give him that.

But said taste it’s also very expensive, so you’re not sure that works out.

“What about all of them?”

Your eyes widen in shock, and you playfully hit him in the arm, “you’re so unserious!”

“I mean it,” the dark-haired smiles, tilting his head at you. “Either you pick the one you like the most, or I’ll buy all of them for you”.

Jeongin never gifts you things expecting anything in return —if anything, the only thing he expects when he buys you jewelry, or clothes, or anything, is that you put them to use.

You’re still not used to this kind of love language, but he tries everything to make you feel comfortable.

“Are you sure?” you hesitate, and he nods eagerly, wondering which one is the one you like best. “That one, the one with the emerald”.

“Pretty,” he smiles, “just like you”.

He takes care of the bill, and you keep on staring at the rest of the jewelry exhibited around the store. To be honest, you’re curious about the price, but you’d rather stay ignorant than feeling guilty about the money he spends on you.

Then, Jeongin sees you admiring a bracelet for quite some time, and he makes a mental note to go back and buy it for you on the next occasion. He knows love can be expressed in many, many ways, but a gift is never out of place.

“Let’s go back to my place, yeah?” he asks you, grabbing your hand as you walk through the mall. “I can pick up dinner and we can spend the night together, what do you say?”

“Sounds good to me,” you smile, trying to keep up the pace with his long legs.

Once you get home, and you unwind together, Jeongin brings the small, white bag with the red, velvet box inside it. You saw the necklace on your way to his apartment, but you didn’t try it on.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper, admiring the shine of it from every angle. “I’m not- sure how to style it”.

“Pretty sure you’ll find a way,” Jeongin smiles with his eyes fixed on the jewel. “You make everything look pretty”.

“Thank you,” your gaze meets his, and you can tell how sincere and genuine he is. Your heart skips a bit when you spot that spark in his eyes again, and your curiosity makes you question him once again. “What?”

“Let me put it on you,” he tells you, standing up from the dinner table and walking towards you, taking away the velvet box off of your hands, “come here”.

You follow him into his room, that’s barely illuminated because of the street lights and a small lamp on top of his nightstand. You stand in front of a big, full-length mirror, and he stands right behind you, holding the necklace with one of his hands while he makes eye contact with you through the mirror.

“Wait, just let me-,” he motions for you fix your hair out of the way, and once you’re done he he places the necklace around you. “There”.

The necklace is very, very pretty on you. So pretty that, for a minute, you completely forget about the outfit you’re wearing, and how it doesn’t match Jeongin’s gift at all.

“Thank you,” you chant again, caressing the jewel as you watch it become your most prized possession. “It’s just- beautiful. I don’t want to take it off, ever”.

“Then don’t,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on your naked shoulder. “Wear it all the time, let everyone know who gave it to you”.

You turn around on your feet and wrap your arms around his neck with a cheeky smile. “What for?”

“So everyone can know you’re mine,” his siren eyes are staring deep into yours, and that alone is enough to arouse you. Not only that, but the implied possessiveness under these kind of gifts is making you feel some kind of way.

“Everyone knows I am yours already,” you whisper, leaning in for a kiss. “I don’t need to wear a necklace for that”.

“But it’s fun, isn’t it?” Jeongin asks you, “everytime you feel the necklace around your neck, you can think of those times where my hands have done the job”.

You feel the heat rising up to your cheeks almost immediately, and you wonder if he can tell.

“The necklace is very pretty, but you like my hands way more, don’t you?” again, the filthy question makes you a bit timid, but you still nod.

“See? I don’t need expensive jewels to be happy,” you chuckle softly, planting a quick kiss on his lips. He responds the kiss with one much more steamy, one that actually makes you gasp for air in between.

“So what is it that you need, hm?” he teases you, cupping either side of your face with his big hands.

“You know what,” the complicit smile on your lips is the consent Jeongin needs to guide his hand from your face to your neck, squeezing it slightly as he applies pressure to the sides of it. The harder he chokes you, the wider you smile.

“Is this enough to make you happy?” judged by his cold gaze, and the deeper tone of his voice, you know you have Jeongin exactly where you want him.

“I’m missing something else,” you quietly murmur, just as much as his grip around your neck allows you to. “Can you give it to me?”

“What is it that you’re missing?” he asks you, a twisted smile peeking through the corners of his lips, “tell me, and I’ll give it to you”.

Jeongin knows exactly what you’re talking about, and what you’re referring to, but he menas every word he says. If there’s something you’re missing, he’d travel the whole world just to give it to you. If there’s something you want, all you have to do is ask.

“Your cock,” you finally tell him.

In the blink of an eye, you’re both naked in his bed and he’s hovering over you, positioning himself between your legs while he bites his bottom lip. You’re still wearing the necklace, as a request for him, and it feels somewhat heavy on your chest. It will probably weight heavy from now on, everytime you wear it, because it will remind you of how good of a lover Jeongin is to you.

“It looks so good on you,” he hisses, coating the tip of his cock with your slick. You’re so slippery, and warm, and inviting that he can’t spend another second without being buried deep inside your pussy. “You- look so good like this, with your legs spread for me”.

You moan at his words, wrapping your legs around his waist and forcing him to bottom out inside you, desperately wanting to feel all of himself.

“F-fuck”.

“So tight,” Jeongin whispers, closing his eyes while assimilating the stimulation your body provides.

He starts off slow and only goes rougher once he’s sure you’re ready for it. He wraps his hand around your neck and chokes you while fucking your pussy, admiring the diamond resting on top of your bouncing breasts.

The necklace is even prettier like this, he thinks.

“Right there,” you gasp, closing your eyes shut while your orgasm hits you unexpectedly. You writhe underneath him, digging your nails on his biceps. He fucks you even faster through your orgasm, making you spill a tear or two —not only he is a good lover, but he fucks oh, so well too.

You moan his name over and over again, thanking him in between. The ravages of your high are hitting you, as well as the painful overstimulation, but you don’t want him to stop. You want him to come inside you, to fill you up until he’s leaking out; however Jeongin has other plans in mind.

“Can I- come, on you?”

You’re not sure what he means, as he usually finishes inside you, but you still nod desperately, wanting whatever it is that he wants.

So he thrusts himself inside you a couple of times before pulling out, kneeling over you while stroking his cock and driving himself to his orgasm. You stare at him with dreamy eyes, aroused by the heavenly sight he’s offering you —there’s something enticing about his facial features when he comes, how they sharpen and his eyes get pitch black.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath as he comes over your breasts, spilling his hot cum all over them and the necklace.

You didn’t understand his petition until now, that you realize the diamond is covered with his arousal, glistening even brighter under the dim lights of his room.

“You made a mess,” you chuckle, staring at your tits.

“I just wanted to make sure you're going to remember who gave you this”.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #jisung smut #felix smut #seungmin smut #jeongin smut

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eufezco · 9 months

Text

Just a random scenario of preoutbreak!Joel dealing with his three girls.

It was a Saturday night, it was raining outside and you were waiting in between Joel's arms for the pizza in the oven. He was hugging you tightly against his body, asking you every five minutes if you were cold. How could you? His body was extremely warm, you could feel it directly at your fingertips thanks to the hand that had slipped under his shirt and was resting on his belly.

The movie was good, but his kisses were better. Your hand climbed caressing his whole torso and his hand around your body moved to your ass, to squeeze one of your cheeks over your pajama pants, until some heavy footsteps stomping down the stairs got your attention.

"I'm going to Riley's." Ellie announced, putting on her raincoat and grabbing her house keys.

"What? Now? It's late and it's pouring." Joel sat up, looking at the watch on his wrist with a frown on his face.

"I'll be fine."

"Do you want me to drive you?" Joel asked, kinda panicking after not knowing what Ellie's plans were. Would she spend the night? Did she need him to pick her up? At what time? Had she eaten something or would she have dinner there?

"She'll be fine, Joel." Your hand landed on his chest, pushing him backwards on the couch in an attempt to get him to relax. Ellie smiled to you thanking you for lending her a helping hand and reassuring her paranoid father.

"Why don't you take your sister with you?"

Oh my god, how could he miss the point?

"Sarah will be fine here with us. Anyway, it's not good for her to go out in this weather, this morning I noticed her a little cold. We'll have dinner and then we can play some board games with her." You said and Joel seemed convinced. You flashed him a small smile and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

"I'm leaving." Ellie chirped.

"You call me if you need anything." Joel reminded her before the girl walked out the door.

Joel leaned back on the couch and you went back to hug him. You sighed and you rubbed your face against his chest and covered yourself with the blanket, overwhelmed by teenage love.

"They're so cute together." You mentioned.

Joel hummed and put his arm around your body again. You frowned and you lifted your head from his chest to look at him.

"What happens?" You lifted your head from his chest to look at him.

"I don't know, I just– I don't like this."

"You don't like what?"

"Ellie not talking to us about it."

You relaxed again, sighing and letting your head fall on his chest again. You thought he meant something else.

"I don't think she feels the need to do it, Joel. She knows we know and she knows we are perfectly okay with it, aren't we?" You asked him, squinting your eyes and he looked at you, offended.

"Of course we are. I'm not that old and she's my kid."

You giggled, kissing his lips again. "I was just kidding. What is it that you don't like then?"

"She never talks about how she feels, and kids at this age are mean."

"Oh, and you don't think she's tough enough?"

"She is, but– I would like her to talk to us sometime."

"Joel, I'm sure that if she was struggling with something she'd tell us. Or Sarah would let us know. They talk a lot, they're good sisters, they have each other's back. Besides, do you want her to talk to you about girls? Do you want Sarah to talk to you about boys?"

Joel pressed his lips together, that didn't seem like a good idea to him. He fixed his posture on the couch. "I want to meet that Riley."

"Oh, she's great." You added, getting comfortable, thinking that the dad complaints were over when Joel sat up straight again. You rolled your eyes, what was it now?

"She's great? What do you mean by that? Do you know her already?"

"Of course I know her. Every time I go pick up Ellie from her house she comes out to say hello. She's so nice."

"She just waves at me from the doorway..." Joel mumbled.

"That's because you're scary, baby." You kissed his cheek.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are dad." Sarah said coming down the stairs. You smiled at her, glad to see her out of her room but Joel was still shocked that you both found him scaring. "I like Riley too, she's cool."

"Wait you know her too? Am I the only one who doesn't know her yet?"

You and Sarah shared a look.

"To be fair I haven't had a conversation with her for more than five minutes."

"Yeah, and I've only seen her a couple of times."

You answered him to take some of the weight off the issue, but Joel huffed. He thought that Ellie was a dad's girl and the thought of not being his favorite and seeing her growup and start keeping things from him was truly annoying him.

"Come sit with us, let me know that at least one of my two daughters loves me. We'll have dinner in a minute." Joel made place for Sarah between you two.

"No, thanks, I don't want to know what's going on under that blanket."

"Oh I'm hella' sure you don't." Joel teased Sarah by slowly moving on top of you while hiding his face in the crook of your neck, smirking after Sarah's fake retching and you squirming from the tickling of his beard.

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grapejuicestyless · 11 months

Text

Just Because You Cannot Have Her.

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summery: You’ve always been in love with the oldest Fisher. Having grown up to be his practical twin, it was almost impossible not to. When he makes it clear he likes someone else, you try to move on. And it almost works.(inspired by that one scene between Laurie and Amy in Little Women!)

Angst to fluff to angst to fluff again(it’s a lot.)

To me, he wasn’t only the sun. He was the moon and the stars. He was the smell of the fresh grass and the sound of the beach. He was all of my favorites things. And to him, I was his best friend.

Conrad and I grew up together. Our mothers all going to college. My mother rooming with Laurel and Susannah, creating the foundation of a new friendship. One that led us to Boston right beside her and the summer long vacations only I would attend during the summer as my moms work grew more demanding. Susannah lived next door to us my whole life. A pretty house on a more quiet road in Massachusetts. The houses mere feet apart. Windows reflecting each other.

Nights were spent the three of us each school year, playing in the garden with sticks as swords and watching cheesy movies before color had reached the big screen. Just me, Jeremiah and Conrad. All year long. All day long.

I still remember the day we figured it out, Conrad and I. How my window was directly facing his. Same floor, same height. How if we tried hard enough, we could communicate late at night and never be apart.

Jeremiah was an important part of our trio, but as they always say, there’s a duo in every trio. That was me and Conrad. It was obvious, the way we sat closer together. My head on his chest and his legs thrown over my lap. How by some force, no matter the scenario, it was always him and me against it. No matter Jeremiah’s efforts, it seemed that he could never quiet catch up. He wasn’t mad by it, he understood even then that what we had was special, but he also had a right to want that. To want that force that constantly seemed to keep Conrad and I intertwined.

And with the knowledge of that force and the closeness of it all, how could I not fall for the boy that was my best friend? My everything. Him with his blonde hair and boyish grin, eyes crinkling and shoulders hunched. He understood my jokes, even when they weren’t that good and yet, he laughed at each one. Because I was the one telling them. We flowed continuously, like a perfect line drawn on a piece of paper.

But I guess that force wasn’t as strong as I believed. Because while it had pulled me to him in every way a person can be pulled, Conrad seemed to have been left behind. Unaffected by it all. Able to fall for everyone else around him while I remained trained to him like a puppy eager to gain his affection.

Belly and Steven were an added part of our group. Each summer they’d travel down to the beach, stay just down the hall from us and enjoy the same games and closeness I was lucky enough to have all year.

Yet, with her youngness, in some way I still got everyone to myself. If it were to be a house party or a late night rendezvous, it was always the three of us and occasionally Steven.

Last summer was different. To me, to her. To everyone. Belly changed. Like the seasons or the tide, Belly lost her braces and ditched the glasses. Hair flowing behind her like a movie scene. A character straight from a love story. I always saw her as beautiful. Always believed she had the looks and personality to make any boy chase her, leaving a trail of drool behind. But now, everyone else could see it too. Conrad could see it too.

And that summer, he spent it stuck to her hip like glue. Leaving me colder and more alone than I’d ever been in my entire life.

I had been forgotten like nothing ever happened between us. Like we hadn’t come up with our own way of conversation through the windows. Like we hadn’t cried over the notebook or sat on the floor playing Barbie’s until our knees hurt and our back were sore. Like we didn’t know the ins and outs of each other. To be thrown to the side like a distraction felt like a punch to the gut. But the affection that Belly gained from Conrad while I lost everything was a bullet, killing me slowly while I bled all over Susannah’s white bed sheets.

Summer came and went. Slower than I wished. But that’s what happens when the world crumbles around you. Losing your best friend, and also the love of your life to the girl you’d happily consider a younger sister. Watching her get the attention I’d always wanted. His lips ghosting over hers and his hands tracing her hips like she was art. All while my hands held themselves and my lips were bitten raw.

The fall wasn’t much better. College was hard. So far away from home, and even farther from Jere and Conrad. I could count down the days until summer. I wouldn’t have Conrad, I accepted that. But I would always have Jeremiah. The boy who was always my younger self. My other best friend who stuck by me as he watched Conrad rip pieces of my heart out each day without any knowledge of what he was doing. He comforted me on the days that I seemed to be nothing more than a distant memory to Conrad. He sat with me both in person and on the phone for hours, catching up and doing the things I had only ever done with Conrad.

I went to NYU, much to everyone’s dismay. I’d sworn on Brown. Going somewhere with Conrad to stay together. Two peas in a pod. He’d looked disappointed at my decision, but he could’ve seen it coming. With him no longer wanting me, it felt wrong to follow him around. To stay stuck to another woman’s boyfriend, if that’s what you could call them.

Conrad and Belly were never exclusive. They never set clear boundaries of their relationship. They flirted and teased. Played around and fought, but they never stuck completely. Deep down, Belly had a crush brewing for Cam Cameron, and anyone who wasn’t an idiot could see the blush spread across her cheeks whenever Jeremiah walked into the room. Conrad, to him it felt like Belly was it. He had no other women around him. He stopped flirting freely at bonfires and rarely went out without her. He was more set on a true relationship. Knowing that is what hurt the most. So, I left. Not wanting to stay in a place I did not feel welcome.

Again, the seasons passed. Changing like the people within it. And finally, within the snow and the rain, I came home to a familiar neighborhood. My luggage in the trunk of an even more familiar red Jeep. The Fishers and I were reunited, almost fully. Susannah slept peacefully in the back seat, head leaned up against the window, pen laid dainty in between her slim fingers adorned with beautiful jewels. Jeremiah was driving, a new smile on his face as the summer sun shined down on us. Meanwhile, I sat passenger side, sock clad feet up on the dash and a pack of gummy worms on my lap. Feeding a few to Jere every couple seconds. It was perfect. An atmosphere that was light and gentle. The only missing piece was my best friend in the whole world, Conrad Fisher.

He had decided to drive up by himself this year, having been away at Brown and getting the chance to head off early. It made perfect sense. But the idea that our annual car rides were no longer existing, ached. I had already lost him in the summer, I could accept that. But to lose him year round? It was a new pain I couldn’t even think about dealing with. So I took it as it was, a perfect excuse.

“You okay?” His voice was smooth, warm. I let my eyes flicker from the side mirror. My face turned to look at the tan skinned boy next to me.

Jeremiah was always beautiful. He had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. One that reflected the clearest summer day I could wish for. Yet, in the lightness, they also held depth. Sparkling with impulse and enthusiasm. His smile was infectious. Bright white in a way you could only dream it to be in the movies. Something that no one would believe to be a true description until they saw it. He had curly hair that wasn’t quite brunette, but not light enough to be blonde.

I still remembered the day he ran to me crying. He’d always hated his curls. He longed to have the straighter hair that his older brother had. He always looked up to Conrad. In ways so extreme that he wanted to be just like him. Conrad had told him that his sandwich crust made his hair curly. It was funny until it wasn’t. I spent the whole day styling Jeremiah’s hair until it was sticky with hair product and styled in his own way of perfection. He looked almost humorous with his usually wild hair all done up, but handsome none the less. He had really grown into himself through the years, it was hard not to notice him.

The memory made me smile, only the sound of a far out car horn shaking me back to the present.

“Just really excited to be back. College kicked my ass.” My smile was tight lipped, but genuine. Jeremiah returned the look, sighing as he looked out to the road ahead, taking in the familiar scenery.

“Me too.” I caught his eyes quickly flick over to mine, a smile still spread on his cheeks. A blush on mine. He was one of my best friends. My younger self. I shouldn’t have been so flustered to have been caught admiring the boy, but for some reason the heat bubbled up in my stomach anyways. I needed air, a sharp intake of it getting stuck in my throat as I felt a warmth wrap around my hand.

His larger hand laid comfortably in mine, squeezing innocently and shaking it as if to symbolize excitement. Yet, in that moment, the innocent gesture felt more intimate than a pure platonic feeling. Again, the heat rose to my cheeks, and the butterflies made me feel uneasy. But I brushed it off as over tiredness.

When we pulled into the driveway, I noticed all the other cars already parked. We had been the last to arrive, another odd experience as we were always the first.

Quickly, the families raced out the door to greet us. Steven and Belly shoving off each other to race to Jere and I. Belly got to me first, her arms wrapping around my body so hard I stumbled back at her force.

“I’m so glad you’re here! I missed you!” Her words were muffled by my shoulder, head buried into my skin like I’d slip away if she didn’t hold on to me tight.

“I missed you more, Bells. I have no one to watch all these movies with me when I’m away.” I motioned to the bag I had stashed away in the back seat next to were Susannah was once sitting. Belly pulled away in excitement, head peaking over my shoulder to inspect the stack of old discs peaking out from the bag. Her attention back on me as she stepped away.

“Look at you, all grown up.” I held her face between my hands, eyes squinting to fully admire her beauty. She truly changed last summer, having lost her braces and glasses. But somehow, the girl managed to get even more stunning in the passing year, proving to everyone she wasn’t so little anymore. She brushed me off, scoffing playfully before motioning to me.

“Look at me? Look at you! College did wonders!” I shrugged off the complement, not really seeing any changes.

It was true though, I had grown in college. Always a late bloomer, my chest had gone up a size. My wild hair was more tamed and my lips reddened. I changed from that young graduate who was sworn into baggy college shirts and swimsuit bottoms into someone who didn’t truly mind tighter shirts with half sleeves or jean shorts that were slightly scandalous. I had grown into a more confident version of myself while away from the crutches of comfort back home.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught Conrad walking towards us, his eyes avoidant of Belly and glued to me, the first time I truly felt his gaze in almost a full year. He made a B-line to me, smile plastered across his face before Jeremiah intercepted his welcome. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed, even if I had convinced myself all feelings for him were in the past. That I could move on.

I felt Stevens arm loop around my shoulders, “Blah, blah, blah. Y/n, I think you’ve had enough time to catch up. You know what time it is?” She shared a look, my eyes catching Jeremiah’s, his looking to Conrad’s.

“Belly flop!” I was quick to declare, Belly’s eyes widening. She was quick to try to make an escape, but not quiet quick enough.

She ran right into Jeremiah. Him and Conrad restraining her arms while Steven and I latched onto her legs. We rushed over to the pool, excited to toss her in yet another year. She screamed and thrashed, only to be met with the fate of the bottom of the pool.

The water splashed onto our legs, her body submerging underneath. I let myself fall into Jeremiah with an excited laugh. His arms wrapped around my body almost protectively, head tilted down to look at me. It was inviting and all so warm. Summer had officially begun.

The beach house was lively and bustling with people running from room to room. Trying to complete each thing that needed to be done to fully enjoy the summer. Susannah and I seemed to be the only two in place. Even Laurel rushing around to help out.

The kitchens surface was layered in fruits and flour tossed around it. The evidence of the crime scene on our faces. Powder smears across cheeks and a red ring over lining my lips from what could’ve been cherry or strawberry juice.

Susannah had sworn that the dessert she had been planning to make would taste so much better from scratch. She was right, like always. Her baked goods always were, and the small cakes in all various shapes and sizes were just as delicious as promised. Now the only thing left to show was the plate filled with the fresh pastries and the mess to prove we really had made them.

We laughed about it, when stepping back to observe our damage, a hand going to her forehead. Both in humor for the situation and some stress.

“What exploded in here?” We turned on our heals to the voice, laced in shock and amusement. The matching expression belonging to the boy I couldn’t seem to escape all day. Jeremiah.

“We made pastries!” Even my best jazz hands couldn’t hide the fact that everything was everywhere. Not even my best smile could hide the small regret I felt for making it with Susannah.

Sometimes, I believed Jeremiah was a psychic. As I could’ve seen the stress on Susannah’s perfect face, it was like he could simply feel it. With one small flick of his hands, he nodded knowingly, always wanting to be a help.

“Mom, why don’t you relax. I’m sure Y/n and I can handle a little mess.” We exchanged a glance. I nodded frantically, wanting to help out Susannah in every way possible.

“Are you sure?” She sounded more relieved than anything.

“Yes, of course. Now go, watch a movie or read a book. Paint! Why don’t you paint!” I shooed her away, helping Jere get her to settle in for the day.

The room was silent as she left, her presence only known because of what she had left behind. I almost laughed at how messy a grown woman could be, but I wasn’t any better, so who was I to judge?

“You really know how to make an entrance.” Jeremiah mused, eyeing me up and down while lifting the trash can over to the edge of the island top.

“What can I say? I’m an artist.” Picking up some flour from the countertop, I tossed it on his face, holding my hands up in a picture motion, as if I was trying to get the right framing for my work.

“Perfect!” I joked, a playful smirk on Jeremiah’s face.

We were quick in cleaning the kitchen. All appliances already washed and put away as we used them. So all there was to do was to clean whatever didn’t make it into the pans and bowls. It looked just like new, shining like it had before our baking process.

Again, I stepped back to admire our work, only this time, Jeremiah admired it with me. Looking at each other, I felt sure we had done the best job that could’ve been done.

“I think we make a good team. Absolutely spotless.” Looking at me up and down, it became apparent again that even as clean as the kitchen was, I needed to change my shirt.

“Shit.” I pulled the bottom of the material out, inspecting the spots of dust that scattered all over it. Frowning, I flattened it back out, ready to mock myself for a joke.

Jeremiah’s face didn’t change though, still casting that same smile that seemed to always be lazily stretched across his features. His hand found my skin for the second time that day. Only it didn’t wrap around my fingers in an embrace. Instead, he lifted his hand to my face. Thumb pressed to my lips, he smeared away the bottom of my cherry-strawberry ring that was beginning to stain.

Again, the heat rose and I felt almost fluttery at the closeness of it all. The intimacy of his actions.

“I like the red lip thing, by the way. Suits you.” With that he pulled away, thumb brought up between his own and sucking off the juice gathered across the tip.

He walked away like nothing had happened, while I stood there, red in the face and stuck on what had just happened. The boy I had always turned away in hopes that Conrad would chase after me like I had to him, was openly flirting with me. And I didn’t mind it.

Maybe it was the fact that I was lonely without the burning love for Conrad to fill my heart, or maybe it was the new found bond we formed over the last year. Which ever it was, it was leading me straight to my best friends arms, whether I liked it or not.

The sun rose high above the horizon, casting an unbearable heat across Cousins. It was the beginning of July, officially today. Just a week after everyone had piled into their designated vehicles and arrived to their home away from home, the one place we could all be together constantly.

To say that the week had been weird would be an understatement. I had fully prepared to be ignored by Conrad all summer, my heart slowly closing itself off, finally healing from his sour attitude from the previous year and finding it in myself to move on. However, to my surprise, he didn’t. No, within the first twenty four hours, Conrad was banging on my door. Demanding we go early morning surfing. Something we hadn’t done in years.

Conrad first proposed the activity when we turned fourteen. Just old enough to go out unsupervised during the day. At first I had been skeptical, unsure of how great my surfing abilities were in comparison with Conrad’s. At how well I could get back above the water if I were to fall. But Conrad always had a way of convincing me otherwise. Like the angel and devils sat on my shoulder, he could sway me whichever way he wanted. It was a power only Conrad had ever held over me. Something that was not only endearing, but scary. Something I vowed to not allow anyone else to have over me.

It became a tradition for three years straight. Waking up early for at least half of the weekdays to either play around in the water or float for hours. Burning and getting more delirious by the hour. Sharing anything and everything with each other. Something I held close to me, in those years.

By eighteen, Conrad had turned moody, starting what could be summed up as last summer in a nutshell. His ignorance towards my feelings and his inability to care about the ones he did know about ending the tradition by mid July. I used to pray he would knock on my doors to go again, but the knock never came. And as any sensible person would, I stopped pretending like it was possible to happen again.

But maybe I had been wrong, seeing as Conrad was once again, knocking at my door.

The waves had been particularly calm that morning, barely rocking the boards up and down. We decided to just float along the waters that day, the air quiet and calm.

“I missed this.” His voice cut through the silence like a knife. I raised my head from the water, where my hands had been making shapes along the surface.

“So why’d you stop doing it?” The words came out harsher than intended. After all, I was enjoying our time together. I had missed him terribly. After all, while having a younger me around was soothing, having your other half was so much more fulfilling in some ways.

I guess it was the pent up frustrations I hadn’t known I had until that moment. The anger that was caused by the fact that Conrad had me. He had me in the palm of his hands and deep down he knew he did. He knew I would go wherever he went. The poor idiot unable to see his disinterest in me. He had walked out, and I had let him back in. Just like every fight ever, he would come back begging and I would crumble immediately.

I decided then I could be his friend, I always would. It was something that was irreversible. I would let him back into my heart as my best friend, but it ended there. I refused to let him back in romantically. Something that was strange to know. Something I never dreamed of happening.

Sure the feelings were still there, I believed they always would be, but I would no longer act on them. And hopefully I could learn to love another.

Conrad fell quiet again after that. Not knowing what to say. Anything, everything fell short.

“I’m sorry, Y/n/n. I’ve been such an asshole to you. I was just, scared of everything and not where I should’ve been last summer. I shouldn’t have taken out my issues on you. I shouldn’t have ignored you. If I could take it all back I would. I miss my other half.” It was genuine, each word out of his mouth. My heart beat faster with the idea that Conrad had phrased it, “other half” instead of, “best friend” because he held some sort of feelings for me. But my logical half shut that idea down as quick as it happened, and nothing came of it.

In the evening, I had been playing volleyball in the pool with Belly. Having been a retired varsity player, it was always fun to get competitive with her. Diving into the water and scraping our feet on the bottom of the pool. It was messy but fun.

With it being played just us for awhile, Belly jumped at the idea to have Jeremiah and Steven join us. The pair having walked outside unaware to the intense battle going on in their swim trunks, they were quickly recruited to our teams.

The usual teams were me and Steven, our competitive nature making us a powerhouse against the usual Belly and Jeremiah. Who were just as good but lacked the same fire. Without hesitation, they jumped into the water, calling dibs on their teams.

“Alright I call y/n!” Jere was quick, his sprint slowed to a hop in the waist deep water, arms wrapped around my frame in a tight hug.

Belly scoffed.

“What’s wrong with being on my team?” She demanded to know, her tone dripping with playfulness.

Jeremiah rolled his eyes.

“No offense, Bells. But I want to win for once.” She stuck her tongue out sourly, Steven shooting me daggers, ready to destroy us.

While Jeremiah’s excuse was reasonable, his lingering touches and constant banter with me made it more apparent he had other reasons to be on my team. The way his hands held onto the ball just a moment longer when handing the ball to me to serve over the net, just to brush against my fingers or the way his body was never too far from mine. It was all so flirtatious, the familiar fluttery feeling returning.

In the end, we had won, much to Stevens dismay. It was a close game, but ultimately he had lost control of the ball, causing a hard loss for Belly. The pair fought innocently while we relished in our newly earned bragging rights. Jeremiah’s arms wrapped around me again, only to lift me from the water and spin us around to celebrate. All the new closeness was unusual, but for some reason, again I found myself unable to push it away. And the more he did it, the more I wanted him to keep flirting with me.

Maybe it was the attention, something I had always wanted, or maybe it was something new blossoming between us. But it was good and it was sweet. Something I hadn’t known before.

By the end of the week it seemed my days were split into fractions. My mornings taken up my Conrad, our bodies laid along the beach and our cheeks red with the sun. Muffins runs long and hilarious each time we drove off to collect a batch together. Conrad insisting Steven wouldn’t mind if he ate the last blueberry one and being wrong each time, resulting in the scramble to get more. In the afternoons I found myself devoted to Jeremiah. All his activities he wanted to do, he had somehow managed to rope me into doing with him. Whether it be running or swimming. Painting or just talking, I was there beside him. My eyes stuck to his like glue. And by the time night fell, I would be happily tucked under a blanket, Susannah and Laurel on one side and Belly squishing against my other as we watched the sappiest movies we could find and played the longest board games in the closet. Summer felt like summer again, and my heart was finally mending.

In my healing, it was like I had lost sight of the cause of the heartbreak. My head too stuck in the clouds that was the regaining of Conrad’s company and Jeremiah’s unrelenting interest in me to remember why the healing was necessary.

It seemed to have been over, this summer. The way Conrad avoided her more than usual. The way that the only times they were really together was when we were all in each other’s presence. But I would never really know as I am not them.

It was stupid to get so upset so late into the summer. Over something I should’ve seen coming. Something that had already came, just wasn’t as apparent. The moon was high and the moms were already settled in for the movie night. The blanket pulled up to their chins and popcorn buttery and still steaming.

Laurel had asked if I could go find Belly, not wanting to start without the person who adored these nights the most. Without thinking, I agreed. Why wouldn’t I? She was my little sister, in some ways. Someone who I refused to do the tradition without.

But god, I wish I hadn’t. I could’ve spared myself the heartbreak.

Conrad had Belly in his arms. Holding her loosely, letting her drift off without a care. All while his lips were on top of hers. Pressing into them with such force, such desire it made me sick. I had sworn to not let him back into my heart in that way, and I hadn’t. But the old feeling would always be there, and it would hurt each time he broke my heart like it was the first.

I wasn’t interested in the movie anymore. Yelling out some lazy excuse as to why I was going off to the beach to watch the stars instead of the movie. The mothers not giving it a second thought.

It was a mess, both mentally and physically. My brain scrambled in my emotions and my room reflecting it. My bathing suit was still damp, fitting perfect across my body even in the slight discomfort it gave me. The shirt I threw on over it wasn’t my own. The words, “Boston MA” spread across the chest. It hung at my thighs and it smelled fresh.

In moments like this I used to purposefully put on Conrad’s shirts I’d stolen over the years. The lingering scent of his cologne and the memories we held of him wearing them comforting enough. But in this moment, I wanted nothing more than to be as far away from his as possible.

I’m not sure who’s sandals I stole at the door were, but I hoped they didn’t need them anytime soon. Because I didn’t plan on coming back until the house was quiet and asleep.

The beach was my sanctuary. Peaceful, stranded at an hour like this. In any other place it would’ve been almost eerie, but I felt safe in Cousins. I knew nothing could hurt me here, and that in itself gave me peace.

The stars were brighter than usual tonight, sparkling on the surface of the very water I had laid across just hours before with Conrad. Confessing each dirty secret from college and laughing about our past. It felt more lonely now, then ever.

Even when Conrad and I were drifted, I felt more together than now. The wound reopened and bleeding.

The sand shuffled beside me, but my head was set on looking up. Unmoving.

“The stars are gorgeous tonight, huh?” The question was meant to be left unanswered. Only an attempt to get me to see that he was there, beside me now so I wouldn’t become startled by his presence later on. Still, I nodded. Eyes peeling from the sky to his.

They were just as bright and lively. Just as beautiful.

“Why’d you follow me? You my stalker now?” I tried to be funny, tried to joke. But my mouth was stuck in that almost permanent frown. I should’ve known he could sense my sensitivity, he always could. That’s probably what had drawn him out here in the first place. Always so attentive.

Still, to pity me, he laughed. It was quiet but it was there. Enough to make the corner of my mouth twitch upward. We fell into another silence. My eyes glossy.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, y/n/n. Tell me.” His hand reached out to push at my shoulder, gaining my attention again, pulling it away from the sky.

I blinked away the tears, swallowing the lump in my throat. I shrugged.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure.” Closing my mouth, I licked along the top line of my teeth. Sucking in my lips, I let them pop to take in a sharp breath. All while Jeremiah sat there patiently, ready to listen. Always there.

“I guess it’s just, everything. I mean-“ I looked for the right words to say, not wanting to stumble or say something I didn’t mean.

“I feel like I’m just being overly emotional. Everyone’s trying so hard to mend relationships and I feel like I keep finding reasons to run away again. I mean, I’ve been horrible to Conrad the past year. And for what? Because I couldn’t control myself? I haven’t seen Steven in awhile and I don’t even know how Laurel is holding up. I’ve just…I don’t know why I feel like this.” Everything was building into a massive guilt, my head facing the ground. Ashamed at my own feelings. Jeremiah didn’t judge, he didn’t push for more. He let me say what I needed to say, and he supported it. He was good to me.

“Hey, hey.” He was quick, seeing how I was breaking down rapidly. Under the stress of now not only the heartbreak I was suffering, but the guilt that came with the buried desire for Conrad to leave her to be with me. It snowballed into one big vomit of grief that wasn’t discovered until that moment.

“I’m sorry.” I wiped my eyes, breathing into a weak chuckle. I tried to lighten the whole situation, knowing that he was already dealing with so much. I felt worse putting it onto his shoulders. I couldn’t. So I avoided it. Changed the subject.

“Shit, Jere. I shouldn’t have brought you into it.” I looked at him, his eyes already trained on mine, his eyebrows knit together.

“Don’t be. I’ll always be there for you, Y/n. Promise.” His hands found mine in the dark, the sand getting stuck between the creases on our palms. They laid intertwined in the sand. The third time it had happened this summer. Somehow, even at my worst, he always found a way to break down the walls I was putting up.

My eyes flickered to his lips for only a moment, but the look on his face told me he was thinking about it too and the tension was palpable. Too lost in thought to lean in, Jeremiah closed the gap.

His lips slotted against mine perfectly. Molding together like they were one, pressing together hard. It was slow, but lustful. The knowledge that we both wanted more behind it, but the accompanying knowledge that it wouldn’t go beyond that kiss tonight was also there, creating a sort of comfort in the feeling.

Hands were soon tangled in each others hair, his curls ruined and messy from my constant tugging and messing with them. Groans escaping his mouth every so often when a tug was harder than usual. His hands finding the back of my neck to hold me close, our breathing heavy and the heat unbearable as it radiated between us. Everything was lustful and needy, slow and hot. Neither of us in a rush to end what was happening, everything feeling overwhelmingly good.

When we finally did pull away it was with a pop, lips swollen and reddened from a mixture of irritation and the small marks Jere had left littered across the bottom of mine with his tugging and gentle nips every so often. Eyes were heavy with desire and bodies unwilling to let go. It was like everything fell into place, like everything made sense. With Jeremiah so close, someone who cared for me, someone who constantly showed up, the heartache was almost nonexistent, and it felt like I was being pulled in a new direction. One that led me straight into the arms of the younger Fisher.

The kiss between Jeremiah and I should’ve stayed at that, a kiss. Realistically, I shouldn’t have done it at all. Knowing that even if I tried to stop it or refused to acknowledge it, my heart would always beat for Conrad. No matter how much of an asshole he had been to me. And that was the sad part, because his brother was so much kinder and better to me these past few years.

Maybe that’s why I agreed when it kept going. Why I allowed us to keep progressing into something more. Because even if my heart belonged to Conrad, Jeremiah was better for me, right?

That summer became last year, June coming up around the corner and still, physically I was Jeremiah’s.

Over our year together I had grown to love his curls, or the way he was so quick to visit me the second my voice faltered, despite his own troubles. How we had shared clothes and his touch was enough to send butterflies through my veins.

He was everything, someone I could grow to love as much as I did for Conrad. Someone that I could rely on. Someone who made my heart beat just a little bit faster.

If I had claimed that last summer was off, this one was tripled that.

What had started off semi normal in June, Conrad’s closeness in a strict platonic sense and Jeremiah’s closeness in a way that could be no where near a platonic level became more and more confusing as the weeks passed.

For the past two years of my life, I believed that one day the news would break that Conrad and Belly had finally found their place. Their title, their boundaries and make it exclusive. I believed that in her arriving with a new found beauty, I had lost the battle for him. I had come second to Belly in his eyes and would continue to forever if it meant he could be with her. But that never happened. The day never came.

And soon the lines became even more blurred. Conrad’s touches growing longer and closer. My body being pressed to his more often than not. His lips by my ear to whisper some secret, some dirty some innocent. His eyes staring just a second too long. It was almost flirtatious. But the minute Belly walked into the room, I was reminded that we could never be. And we would never be.

It wasn’t until the middle of August that I knew why the lines had seemingly disappeared. Belly and Conrad had stopped their messy make outs, both not getting what the other wanted, even if it had seemed like the pair was so enthralled by each other. And she had moved onto the boy she had been chasing for years. Cam Cameron. The boy who adored whales and had a heart of gold. His hair curlier than Jeres and eyes deeper than Conrad’s. It seemed that to her, she had finally found the person she needed around. And Conrad? He had nothing. Not even the girl he called his best friend to chase after him anymore. For she was with his brother now.

Still, the flirting was relentless. My mornings spent dedicated to Conrad, holding his hand as we attempted not to drift too far out in the calmness of the early ocean. His laugh warm and inviting. Something that reminded me why I enjoyed him so much. Even in his darkest moments, the ones where I was left to feel alone, he was always there to help me back up in the end. Mending his losses and fixing what was broke. He understood his issues, finding his own responsibility in situations that weren’t only his own cause. He was kind, he cared. He didn’t show it like Jeremiah did, but he had so much of it, it was just harder to see. He did everything for everyone.

My nights were for his brother. Jeremiah and I sprawled out on the grass, pointing at the stars, laughing about the stupidest things. I think back on why I like him so much. How easy it is to just be with him. How he never fights or lies or hurts. He’s there and accepts his faults, much like his brother. He is not ashamed like his brother. Not ashamed of his faults, he carries less guilt about the past, only worried about what he can do to fix it and continue on. And it is all so confusing because it feels impossible to long for two people at once. It feels selfish but it’s almost exactly what I want in that moment.

So the routine became something that I stuck to. Hiding away with Conrad in the sunlight to do our favorite things and holding onto Jeremiah throughout the night. The bed full, warm.

Somewhere in this thread, there was a bump. A miscommunication that led to Jeremiah wandering off to a party without me. One that I didn’t mind as it gave me a chance to clear my mind. Catch my breath on the situation. To do it in the one place I knew.

The concrete beneath my feet turned to sand, the softened surface relaxing as I tread across it. In the darkness I almost miss the hunched over figure in my spot. Red hoodie and messy hair unmissable. Easily identifiable even from the back, even with only an outline. An outline I had grown to recognize as Conrad’s.

I should’ve felt disappointed at the fact I wasn’t alone like I had planned to be, but I wasn’t. The idea that I would be with the one person I trusted more than life for a few hours wasn’t unsettling at all. It made it all more peaceful.

My legs folded underneath me, legs stretching out in front of me, I leaned back on my hands.

Looking up at Conrad I almost got a sort of deja vu from a similar conversation I was having just short of a year ago.

“What brings you down here this late?” I drew shapes in the sand, eyes drawn to his. He looked up to the sky, then back to me.

“I could ask you the same.” I smiled, only after realizing he had cracked one of his own.

“Clearing my mind.” I breathed out, relaxed fully next to him. I allowed myself to look at the stars with him.

“What are you think about?” I could hear his smile, something that made me feel warm. Something that made me want to express how I felt for him finally, but also urged me to put my strongest walls up.

The waves crashed against the shore and the crickets filled the silence. My teeth caught between my lip and my heart besting out of my chest, I felt dizzy in confusion. Where my heart lied.

“I think I might tell Jeremiah I love him.” I almost whispered it, like I was unsure.

The thought hadn’t crossed my mind before. I always knew my heart held something for Jeremiah. I always liked him. But not once did the idea of confessing my love for him cross my mind. Maybe it was because Conrad was close. He always had a way to make me confess my truest feelings. Maybe it was that, him helping me realize what I felt for his younger brother. Yet, in the back of my mind I couldn’t help but feel that the idea only came to mind in spite of Conrad, who had pushed me aside so many months ago. Who was now longing for my attention. And that alone made me feel sick. Sick that I would play with someone I adored so much at the expense of another, just to retaliate against old issues.

I expected a fake support from him. At least some sort of statement to encourage me to go for it. Something that I could try to believe was real and finally be able to let go of my twisted crush for him. One that I had held since I knew what love could be.

But his face fell flat, eyes looking almost coldly into the sky. His voice was dryer now, serious with each word he spoke.

“Don’t tell him.” I froze, confused but also bubbling with a mixture of frustration and sadness at his carelessness with such a heavy statement.

“What?” I tried to search his unmoving eyes.

“Don’t tell him.” He repeated, looking to me now.

“Why?” Looking at him, I saw the sun and the stars and moon, all lighting up the night sky. I saw the world in a way that made me want to put it in the palm of his hands. I saw something I’d never seen in his eyes before. A look I was only familiar with because it was a reflection of my own.

“Why?” He repeated me again, “You know why.”

My heart dropped. I had dreamt of this moment for years. Conrad running to me, asking me to take his hand. To be with him, but now, it felt almost sickening. Cruel for him to be doing this to me. Now, he had to do it. After his life fell apart and just as mine was coming together he had to do it.

I used my hands to slowly get up, Conrad mirroring my movements.

“No…no.” I repeated, trying to make my answer any more true.

“Yes.” His hand reached out to touch my cheek, but my hand was quick to push it away.

“No, Conrad.” I backed away more, letting him inch closer.

“What?” He asked, acting clueless to how he was ripping me apart all over again.

“You’re being mean, stop it. Stop it.”

“What? How am I being mean?” He almost sound amused at it, at how distressed I felt. All I could do was try to hold myself together for just a little longer.

“I have been second to Belly these past few years in everything. And I will not be the person you settle for just because you cannot have her.” My words held more truth than anything I had ever said in my life. The honest truth of how I felt these past few years, even if he never saw it.

“I won’t-I won’t do it.” I shook my head, his face broken and his eyebrows drawn together.

I wiped my brow, turning away briefly while my lip trembled. Slowly crumbling under the bubbling hot emotion coming up my throat, expanding into a lump.

“I won’t-not when I have spent my entire life loving you.” I wanted to point, stuck my finger right in his chest but my hands were glued to my sides, unwilling to touch him. With his silence as my returning answer, I took the chance to turn on the balls of my feet, walking off to the house in a new kind of distress than before.

I prayed that Jeremiah was still away, that I wouldn’t have to face him so soon but my prayers were left unanswered, a familiar frame sat over the kitchen island. His eyes drawn to his phone.

He smiled up at me as soon as he noticed I was in the room, everything about him so innocent and kind. Something I could never take advantage of. Something I could deprive someone else more deserving of it from.

His sweet smile soon turned into a mixed expression of pain and confusion. His feet carrying him across the room to me. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help but to put my arms out in front of me to create a distance. To relay it to him even when my mouth wouldn’t work that I could not be in his touch right now.

I shook my head before he could even speak, eyes opening, covered in a heavy gloss.

“What’s wrong?” He was almost frantic in the way he said it, wanting to provide comfort without knowing how.

“I-I can’t. I can’t do this, Jere. I can’t do this.” I kept repeating it like it would get any clearer.

“I can’t love you. And it physically hurts me to say it out loud because, because I should. You’re everything I could ever want but I just can’t and I don’t know why. And it’s wrong, and I’m sorry but I can’t keep doing this.” His face almost drained, attempting to salvage what I was so quick to let go of. But it all made sense.

It was foolish for him to believe that he could make me love him, when my heart so obviously still beat for Conrad. So he let me go just as he always does, without a fight. Letting there be peace in our divide.

The next few nights were unforgiving. The sheets a mess and my eyes tired. I couldn’t sleep knowing I had ruined everything in my eyes. What was something good I had to go and end because of my inability to let him go. Something I am unsure I will ever be able to do. Not when I’ve spent so much time bending to fit him.

Soon, summer would be over officially, even if to me it had ended that night. It was the last morning of August, the last day spent down in Cousins before we’d all pack our things into the car and count down the days until next June.

The sun had barely risen above the horizon when I woke. A familiar pattern. Not being able to sleep more than a few hours, the mess of everything keeping me awake.

It was mornings like these I wandered down to the beach, sitting myself in the same spot I had the night everything crashed down. It was all too peaceful for what had happened here, the only place I truly felt secure now. I couldn’t help but cry, looking out. Remembering everything that had happened, kissing those who were just a few feet away.

“Y/n!” His voice called out to me, like he knew I had woken up. He knew where I would be. And it was sweet but sickening.

“Why did you do it?” My voice broke, the question left unanswered. I heard his footsteps stop.

“Why now did you have to tell me? Why is it when I’m finally picking myself up you had to fuck with me. Why?” I all but sobbed, tears streaming freely.

Over my sniffles and pleas, I missed the sound of him moving again, his body finding a home in the sand next to mine. His voice quiet. He thought about it, hard. Trying to form some sort of confession that could sum up what he felt.

“Because if you said it, that meant he won. I would have finally lost you.” He looked at me truthfully, eye own eyes squinting in confusion, heart still aching.

“What?” I breathed out.

“I have spent every waking minute of my life so fucking in love with you, it physically hurt me to not be able to confess it. I was always too scared, seeing how perfect you looked with everyone else. I felt like I was dragging you down. Like I wasn’t enough. So, I found comfort in other people. People who were okay with me using them to forget. Because forgetting is better than living with the fact that my brother was with the only person I have ever loved.” My eyes searched his, his eyes glossy just like mine. His voice breaking and desperate. Wanting me, needing me to believe him.

“I love you too.” The smallest smile broke out across his face, one of relief and comfort in my words. I could sense the hesitation in his actions, and just as Jeremiah had to me, I closed the gap between us. Allowing my lips to press against his with desperation yet so much love. A kiss that had been coming for years. Building without either of us aware of its existence. It wasn’t long and lustful like Jere’s was. It was sweet and short. Just long enough to get across its impact. Just enough to take our breathes away.

His forehead rested on mine, his hands on mine and his eyes looking into mine. Breathing me in, letting us just be close for a moment, letting us just be there. Existing. And it was all so calming.

I always imagined this summer ending with Jeremiah and I celebrating our one year. His arms wrapped around me as we parted ways. I never could have imagined myself on the same beach it all started, the lips against mine not his, but his brothers. An old love becoming a new love. The beginning.

#conrad fisher #conrad x reader #conrad fisher angst #tsitp jeremiah #jeremiah fisher #jeremiah x reader

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