#sconces !m

[caelesjjk]

simply meant to be | jjk

☾ Title: Simply Meant to Be ☾ Pairing: pumpkin king!jungkook x fem reader ☾ Genre/AU: nightmare before Christmas au, romance, horror, smut ☾ Rating: m (18+) ☾ WC: 4.6K ☾ Warnings: this is not your average nightmare before christmas, its pretty dark and unhinged. jungkook is jack skellington. reader is somewhat of a sally character. jungkook calls you immortelle (it means everlasting), jungkook has face tattoos (you'll see), monsters, fear, seokjin appearing as Dr. Finkelstein hehe, electrocution therapy, being held against will, jungkook unalives someone, a game of cat and mouse, mentions of blood, smut in the forms of: kissing, grinding, fingering, unprotected sex, knife play, blood play, creampie ☾ Summary: you aren’t sure how any of it can be real. This place…these creatures…this man. You wake up next to a man you’ve never seen before with no memory of who he is or where you are. But everyone in town seems to know you. You belong to the Pumpkin King. Scared and utterly terrified you run into someone who claims they can help you remember. And now you’re starting to wonder if that’s truly what you want. ☾ Authors Note: hello darklings! Please enjoy my trick for the Fantasy and Fangs halloween collab! this fic became so much more unhinged than i originally planned lol. it may not be for everyone! just e sure to check my warnings before you proceed with the fic. this is heavily unedited.

Your body jolts upright, lungs immediately gasping for breath.

Panic surges through every nerve as you frantically look around at your surroundings and grasping at the thin sheet you find bunched around your hips. 

You’re naked. God why are you naked? How did you get here? Where the fuck are you?

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look next to you in bed and see that someone is lying next to you. A broad back and muscular arms covered in tattoos leading up to a head of messy black hair that covers the persons face lies snoring quietly against the sheets.

“Shit.” You mumble, wrapping the thin sheet around your body as you scramble out of the bed. The man lying in the bed stirs slightly and reaches into the space where your body once was. 

You don’t wait to see anything else, dashing for the bedroom door and stumbling into the very dark hallway. The only light comes from the cobweb covered candle sconces that line the black painted walls. 

You adjust the sheet around you the best you can before taking off running down the hallway. There is an immediate feeling that you’re being watched and you make the mistake of turning around to look behind you. 

The dark shadowy silhouette of a man stands where you had just been a moment ago. You beg your feet to move faster.

Before you reach the top of the stairs, you glance back over your shoulder once more to see what you can only describe as a jack o lantern grin light up and stretch across the face of the man taking his time moving towards to you down the hallway.

“Where are you going, immortelle?”

A voice comes into your mind and almost causes you to fall face first down the winding spiral staircase in front of you.

“Please leave me alone.” You beg as you rush down the stairs. You don’t make it far before you suddenly feel hands gripping at your ankles. Hands with claws….some covered with slime…reaching from under the stairs and tearing at the sheet keeping your naked body from being exposed.

You scream until your throat hurts. Kicking at the hands as you continue to fight your way down the stairs.

“You know how much I love chasing you, baby.”

Somehow you manage to make it to the bottom of the stairs, but you almost wish that you hadn’t when you fall against the front door and throw it open.

You must be hallucinating with fear.

Outside the sky is black and grey swirls of clouds in constant motion, you know if you stared too long you’d become dizzy. Instead, your eyes wonder around to the bare trees surrounding the house you just made your way out of. Just a few leaves hang on for dear life as the wind quite literally howls through the air.

Down the crooked stone steps in front of you is a huge iron gate with two giant pumpkin designs bent into the bars. Gargoyles sit atop every stone post surrounding the house. 

Wasting no more time, you descend the stairs until you’ve reached the iron gate, shaking the bars when it doesn’t budge.

“Please open. Please.” You shove with your shoulder as hard as you can and the gate loudly creaks open just enough for you to squeeze out into the open street. 

You turn around and shove the gate back shut, looking up at the top of the stairs where the man who had been chasing you through the house now stands with a smile on his half tattooed face and his arms crossed over his bulky bare chest.

You can see even from here that the tattoos on the left side of his face are skull like features. It’s absolutely terrifying.

He lifts a hand in a wave as he menacingly tilts his head to the side and smiles.

Fuck this.

You wrap the blanket tighter around you and take off down the street without a single clue as to where you are. Anywhere has to be better than where you just were.

You spoke too soon again.

The sight in front of you as you round the corner is just as terrifying as that house and that man.

There are monsters, literal monsters, standing in the streets. Selling items at market booths. Chasing their children on the sidewalks. Laughter…and screams. It’s a terrible mix of sounds.

You freeze as a bouncy ball belonging to what you can only assume is a swamp monster child rolls against your feet.

“Happy first day after Halloween Ms Y/N!” The little creature says, staring at you expectantly.

Your instincts tell you not to scream. If you scream it will only make things worse.

“You know my name?” Your voice shakes and so do your hands as you continue holding the blanket around your body.

“Are you alright, miss?” The child’s mother appears behind him, looking at you with concern.

“I um…I should go.” Your bare feet move to cross the street, making you pause when you step in something wet. You know that it’s blood before you even look down. Vomit threatens to fill your mouth but you continue walking away, dragging the train of the sheet you’re wearing through more of the bloody streets.

More monsters stare at you as you go. Some with long sharp teeth and claws that could easily slice through a normal humans delicate skin. Some walked on two feet and some slithered across the ground like sickly serpents. 

“Are you lost?” A horrifying witch grabbed your arm and tried to pull you back into the street.

“No, no I’m just on my way somewhere.” You lie the best you can, yanking your arm away only to immediately see deeps scratches from her long nails.

“So sorry miss.” She cackles, moving to join two other witches who were waiting for her on the other side of the street. They all continued their uneasy laughing until you turned the corner up ahead.

As you turned the corner you ran hard into something. Or someone it would appear when you looked up.

“What are you doing out here in nothing but a blanket, Y/N?” The man asks, pushing a pair of glasses up onto his nose.

This man had stitches across his forehead and down around his neck. Like some kind of Frankenstein’s monster, he’s been sewn together.

“Do I know you? Why does everyone here know my name?” You step back to put space between you and the monster.

“Ah, I see. Come with me.” He turns and begins walking but stops when you don’t follow. “I can help you. Come.” He holds out a hand, and while you don’t know what the fuck is happening, something tells you it’s okay to trust this stranger. 

You take his hand.

“Who are you?” You finally ask.

“I’m a friend. Dr. Kim Seokjin.” He swings your hands between you in a silly way. “You usually call me Jin. Sometimes Jinnie.”

“Jin.” You repeat, the name feeling familiar on your tongue. “Where are we going?”

“To my lab. I have things that can help you there.” Jin turns another corner and up ahead you can see a tall crooked tower looming in the distance.

“Your lab is in there?” 

“It is. Don’t worry Y/N, I promise you’re safe with me.”

You swallow hard but continue to let Jin lead you inside the tower and up, up, up the long spiraling stairs until you reach a door that he slides open.

Inside is a room filled with equipment and various experiments. Glass beakers filled with colorful liquid bubble and burble over small open flames. Sparks fly from wires that connect to different machines and some that connect to nothing at all. There are also several control panels at the center of the room with gurneys situated next to them.

“What kind of doctor are you, Jin?” Your voice shakes a little.

“The helpful kind.” He answers with a menacing grin on his face and a flicker of something slightly insane in his eyes.

“Wh-what do you have here that can help me?” You look down at the dirty blanket still wrapped around your body.

“First,” he grabs your hand again and leads you to a side room that has a cot with some folded clothes lying on top of it, “you can use those clothes to change into, okay? Whatever you want.” 

“Thank you.” You step into the small room and turn to face him. “Is something really wrong with me? Something that makes me not remember?”

“Everything is fixable. I’ll have you as good as new in no time.” Jin winks and closes the door behind him so that you can change in private.

You dress in a daze, still feeling very off kilter from everything that’s unfolded from the moment you opened your eyes. Flashes of the man you woke up next too and his terrifying tattooed face race across your memory and leave chills over your skin.

“Ready now?” Jin calls from outside the door. You take a deep breath and walk back out into the laboratory. “Why don’t you take a seat on one of those?” He motions to the gurneys at the center of the room.

Reluctantly, you walk over to them and sit on the thin mattress. It crumples under your weight and immediately sends a sense of dread swimming into your veins.

“How can you fix me?” You barely get the sentence out before Jin is next to you, situating your arms at your sides and wrapping leather straps around your wrists. “What are you doing?” Panic thick in your voice.

“This is how we fix you. Bite this.” He puts a leather strap up to your mouth.

“Are you crazy?! I’m not doing this. Let me go!” You pull against the restraints, thrashing your head and body in an attempt to get the fuck away.

“I know it’s a little frightening. You do this every time. One of your only flaws.” Jin shakes his head, sounding disappointing.

“Flaws? What are you talking about!?” 

“You’re my creation. I made you.” He tilts his head and smiles, “and you’re absolutely perfect except for that mind of yours. It resets. Forgets.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Creation?! I’m a human being! I’m not some experiment! What is wrong with you?” Hot tears starts to leak from the corners of your eyes and blur your vision.

“You’re so adorable sometimes.” Jin yanks on your restraints to tighten them, “sit still, Y/N.” 

“You’re hurting me.” You whimper.

“You think that hurts?” Jin smiles before he begins sticking sticky pads to your head and neck. “Just wait.” He whispers into your ear.

You’re such an idiot to have trusted this monster. You were so sure that he was good. A friend. He felt like a friend when you saw him. Familiar.

“Please…don’t.” You beg just before he forcefully shoves the piece of leather between your teeth.

“You’ll thank me soon.”

Terror freezes your body as you watch him slam down a lever on one of the control tables, green electric waves traveling down the wires and entering your body in trembling shocks.

You don’t know how long you lay there, screaming through the pain before you pass out from how much electricity Jin lets pass into your body. But eventually the room goes black and the last thing you hear is Jin manically laughing from across the room.

“It’s getting worse.”

“I tweaked some things this time. I’m hopeful it lasts longer.”

“It better. I’m tired of losing her.”

You hear quiet voices as you begin to come to. Voices that you recognize almost immediately.

“Jungkook?” Your voice croaks. Almost immediately the door to the small room slides open and the silhouette of the only person you want to see fills the doorway.

“You’re okay, immortelle?” Jungkook rushes into the room and kneels next to the cot you’re laying on.

“What happened to me? Why am I in Jinnie’s lab?” You turn your head to face him when he cups your cheeks in his hands.

“You had another episode, my sweet.” He brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles one by one.

“Episode?” Your brows draw together in confusion.

“You forgot who you were. That you belong to me. You forgot it all.” Jungkook looks sad while he explains and it breaks your heart.

“How could I forget you?” You sit up slowly and he helps you. “How could I forget my love?”

“It’s not your fault, immortelle. Don’t blame yourself.” Jungkook looks over his shoulder at Jin who stands in the doorway. Jin rolls his eyes before walking away.  

“Take me home?” You ask, wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s neck when he picks you up into his arms bridal style.

“Of course.” 

Jungkook carries you down the long winding staircase of the laboratory and outside where it’s pitch black besides the white melting candles inside the lamp posts along the street.

A smile pulls across your face when you see all the monsters that you love busy in the streets. They all smile back at you, tossing greetings and wishes of quick recoveries your way.

“They love you.” Jungkook whispers into your ear.

“No. They love you, you’re their pumpkin king. I’m just lucky enough to be yours.” You touch the skull details tattooed on the side of his face so he looks at you.

“You’ll be their queen soon.” He reminds you. You lean up to kiss his lips.

“Let’s get something to eat before we go home. I’m famished.” Jungkook sits you on your feet but keeps your hand in his.

Jungkook talks with some of the shop owners and you watch as he gathers all of your favorite things into a basket. Wines, cheeses, and some sweet treats leftover from the night before. You love him so.

You make your way over to a stand selling haunted dolls and look around at all the choices. You’re about to go back to find Jungkook when someone grabs your arm and twists you around.

“You’re so pretty.” The drunken vampire says, the smell of blood thick on his breath. He’s had too much.

“I appreciate your compliment, but I need you to let go of my arm.” You pull away but he doesn’t let go.

“Don’t be that way. Come with me.” He stumbles and almost falls on top of you.

“Get off of me!” You say louder but the vampire doesn’t listen, it’s nails scratching through your skin. You’re about to scream for Jungkook when he’s suddenly there, ripping the vampires hand from your arm.

“May I ask what you think you’re doing? Touching what’s mine?” Jungkook says too calmly.

“I…I didn’t recognize Ms. Y/N…I didn’t realize.” The vampire stumbles over his words.

“Is that your excuse?” Jungkook laughs, the terrifying cackling sound sending tingles through your body.

You know what’s going to happen next, and the thrill alone has you aching between your legs.

“I’m sorry, I’ll never make the mistake again.” The vampire takes a few steps back.

“Immortelle?” Jungkook looks over his shoulder to you. He’s asking a silent question that you already know the answer to. You nod yes as a smile spreads across your face.

“Remember in your next life my friend, to keep your filthy hands off my girl.” Before you can blink his hand is shooting out between them and into the vampires chest cavity. He holds it there a moment so that he can watch the life drain slowly drain from the vampire before he yanks his hand back out holding the still thumping heart in his hand.

The vampire falls to the ground in a lifeless heep, his eyes still open and eternally full of the fear he last experienced. The crowd around the market doesn’t take offense, they know if their pumpkin kills someone it was for a damn good reason.

Jungkook turns towards you, handing the heart to one of the children playing with the body on the ground. He pats their head and then slowly brings his hand up to his mouth, licking a thick stripe from the bloody palm of his hand to the tip of his middle finger, all while keeping eye contact with you.

You smile, closing the space between the two of you and claiming his mouth. Your tongue seeks out the blood that’s dropped down his chin and around his lips.

“It never gets old…watching you kill for me.” You breathe into his mouth while his blood hands lace into the strands of your hair.

“We need to get home before I show everyone here how well I fuck you.” His mouth leaves hot kisses against your neck as he leads you backwards down the street until your back hits the iron bars of a familiar gate.

Home.

The gate loudly creaks open as soon as it realizes the two of you have arrived. Jungkook stops kissing you to take your hand and walks with you up the stone stairs to the front door that also opens all on its own, the door knocker welcoming you home.

“Do you want to play?” You whisper, making Jungkook pause at the bottom of the stairs. Those tattooed details raising into a smile.

“Okay, immortelle. Let’s play.” He kisses the top of your hand before taking a step back. He slowly slips of his black and white striped suit jacket and unbuttons his shirt before it joins the jacket on the floor.

You soak in the tattooed planes of his body, the muscles begging to be touched. His dark falling over his forehead as he steps back farther into the shadows until he’s completely disappeared from your sight.

“You know what happens if I catch you, immortelle.” His voice floats into your ear from somewhere unknown. “Don’t let me catch you.” 

A thrill shoots through your body again and you sprint for the stairs, loving the way the monsters and ghouls grab at your ankles and whisper your name. You immediately turn left at the top of the stairs, your mind going a million miles an hour trying to think of where you could hide.

He knows all of the good places for hiding.

In a last ditch idea, you run into your shared bedroom upon hearing Jungkook’s footsteps running up the stairs. He took this game of chase so seriously and never took it slowly.

You slide under the bed, your chest heaving in fear but also excitement. You’re hoping by hiding somewhere obvious that he won’t even think to look here and waste his time checking all of the usual spots you tend to hide.

“Where are you, immortelle?” You hear his menacing voice out in the hallway coming closer. You almost giggle. “You know I’ll find you. I will always find you.”

You hear his footsteps stop outside the bedroom door and then the door slowly opens right after, lightly hitting against the wall behind it. 

Jungkook’s heavy footsteps make the floorboards creak as he walks into the room. You throw a hand over your mouth to keep from making any noises. Jungkook undoes the buckle of his belt and a moment later slips it from his belt loops and lets it clang against the hardwood floor.

“Are you soaked for me right now, my love?” You watch with wide eyes as Jungkook slowly walks around the bed. “I’ll find out soon enough.”

He doesn’t say anything else and when you look around at the floor you notice that he’s no longer next to the bed, his black boots no longer anywhere in sight. You release a long breath of relief.

And then you’re being yanked by the ankle from beneath the bed, a startled scream escaping you as you flip onto your back just in time to see Jungkook trap you with his body against the floor.

“You caught me.” You smile, lifting your hips up to meet his, desperate for friction against your core.

“Don’t I always?” His mouth is on yours, his hands pushing your dress up around your hips.

He was desperate for you too.

“I love you.” You whisper on his lips, the tattooed skeleton grin on his beautiful face turning upwards.

Jungkook sits up on his knees between your legs giving you a full view of his naked torso. Pretty muscles and flawless skin that you ached to leave your mark on. Scratches and bite marks and bruises were the only things that could make him more perfect.

Your chest heaves as you watch him reach behind his back in the band of his black dress pants to retrieve a silver shiny knife. Your pulse quickens immediately.

“Is this what you want, immortelle?” He presses the cold steel flat against the inside of your thigh, keeping the blade from cutting you just yet.

“Will you torture me?” You ask, your hands coming up to cup your breasts with anticipation.

“Absolutely.” Jungkook moves the knife farther up your skin until the point brushes over underwear. You moan pathetically at the feel of it brushing over your center and slowly sliding over onto your other thigh.

“Jungkook…” you sigh.

“Be patient. I’ll give you what you want.” Jungkook uses his other hand to undo the button and zipper of his pants, pushing them down until his perfect cock springs free from the confines.

You bite your lip at the sight in front of you. Jungkook slowly strokes himself to the sight of the knife moving across your skin. He draws the sharp side of the blade oh so gently across your stomach, so sharp you don’t even feel it draw blood. The view of you on display for him makes him groan and move his hand a bit rougher up and down his shaft. 

Your fingers move on their own accord, slipping through the small pool of blood on your stomach and moving them back over your breasts to smear the crimson liquid in a trail.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re so perfect.” Jungkook moves the knife to your throat, gently leaving one long cut from one side to the other. You immediately feel warm blood leave the wound and drip down the sides of your neck.

Jungkook drops the knife to the floor and bends over your body to attach his mouth to your neck. He licks and sucks at your blood, whimpering at the taste of it on his tongue. Your body instinctively arches from the ground, your chest rubbing against his and spreading more of your blood between your bodies. It was the most beautiful visual you could imagine.

You looked down between your bodies to see Jungkook’s hand still stroking his cock as he continues to move his mouth down your body to the cut on your stomach. You can barely stand the burn in the pit of your stomach any longer, your desire for the man on top of you smoldering too hot.

“I need you now. Please.” You lace your hands into Jungkook’s hair and lift his face. The sight of his face covered in your blood, his eyes solid black with lust almost does you in completely.

“Such a good girl, saying please.” He moves back onto his knees, squeezing precum from the head of his cock before he releases it completely and picks the knife back up off the floor. You watch in awe as he brings it to his mouth and licks the blood from the blade.

“I always want to be good for you.” You say sweetly. His cock twitches at the sound of your obedient voice.

Jungkook moves the knife down between your legs and ever so carefully pressed the sharp blade to your underwear and drags it down until the fabric slices apart and reveals your absolutely drenched pussy to him. The knife clangs to the floor again and Jungkook leans back down to claim your mouth, his thumb immediately finding your clit.

Your lips part to moan and his tongue swipes against yours swallowing up all the sounds that escape you. The dripping head of his cock suddenly swipes through your folds and causes a high pitched whine to bubble up your throat.

“Is your pussy desperate to be filled, immortelle?” His hand swipes the blood on your stomach before it’s back on his cock, the blood lubing his shaft to make it easier when he fucks himself into you.

“Yes. It hurts, Jungkook.” You let your hands wander his chest and stomach, watching him watch you.

“I’m not going to last long once I get inside your perfect pussy, my love. But I need you to cum and I need you to scream.” Without warning he roughly spears himself inside you, his hands holding you on his cock as you writhe from the sudden intrusion.

“Oh my fucking god.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he starts to move, rough and hard.

“Made for me. I literally had you made just for me and you’re perfect. So fucking perfect and pliant just for me.” Jungkook’s hand comes down to your throat, careful of the cut across your skin, he gently tightens his grip.

You immediately see stars, wrapping both of your hands around his wrist to keep him in place. You gasp and moan at the feeling of him controlling your breathing and ruining your pussy at the same time. 

“I’m going to come. God I’m coming right now.” The words are quiet as he continues to hold your throat but he hears you just fine, moving his hand from your throat to play with your clit.

“Scream. I need you to scream so I can fill you up.” You open your eyes to see Jungkook watching you, his hair sweaty and mouth parted. Just when you’re about to beg for a kiss he punches your clit between his fingers and your orgasm rolls through you like a hurricane.

Black and white sparks explode behind your eyes and though you can’t hear yourself, you know that you scream loud and high pitched. Just what Jungkook needs to find his own end, dropping on top of you as he continues to fill you past the brim and onto your thighs.

Dried blood scratches between your skin and his as he lies on top of you, his head against your chest and your hands roaming the expanse of his broad shoulders. 

“You’re okay, immortelle?” He finally asks through his heavy breathing.

“I am, of course.” You lift his face to place a kiss to his lips.

“We didn’t even make it to the bed this time.” He laughs lightly, groaning as he pulls out and helps you sit up with him.

“I didn’t mind.” You both smile knowing he feels the same.

“I’ll never mind being with you, immortelle. Never.” He touches your cheek and kisses your lips once more.

“Even if…even if I keep forgetting?” 

“Even then. We are simply meant to be, my love.”

#bts fic #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jjk

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 5

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Get ready, there be some surprises in store for this one…

Word Count: 5,100 Warnings: 18+ only. Smut (m. receiving oral and implied smut), SB’s attempts at flirting lol.

Part 5: Morning, Night & Day

Now that you were allowed to roam the mansion freely, you were able to confirm that it was huge. And it was beautiful…if a bit dusty. 

The house boasted Spanish style arches and textured walls, cherry wood furniture and rod iron lamps and wall sconces, not to mention various art pieces on the walls that looked well-curated. No doubt Soldier Boy had hired an excellent interior designer.

You were more interested in the garden outside. It was tucked away behind the pool, in the shade of large palm fronds and bigger trees. Peeking through them was a lovely view of the mountains. 

Though it reminded you of the damn cliff where you fell, Soldier Boy saving you, and of course, being an arrogant asshole about it. 

Your lips pursed in annoyance. What a dick.

Expelling a heavy sigh, you shook the thought of him out of your head as best you could, and tilted your head up to the sunshine. You’d found a nice stone bench to just sit and be, and try not to think about why you were here.

“Lunch time,” Frank said, encroaching on your solitude. He wasn’t a chatty man, always one to hand off your meal and leave. Escort you back to your room and leave. 

You were bored enough (and perhaps lonely enough) to attempt a conversation.

“You seem to be the brains of the operation,” you remarked. “Yet he’s got you babysitting me. My condolences.”

Frank gave you a bland look. He wasn’t a hothead like Tony, but he was starting to look annoyed as he was still holding out the plate to you. It looked like a roast beef sandwich on rye with some mixed fruit on the side. At least they were trying to keep you healthy.

“I’m not a fan of rye bread,” you admitted. “Tastes like sour cardboard.” 

But you took the plate anyway. 

“Want to sit?” you offered a place next to you on the bench, before Frank could scurry off. “I doubt doing Soldier Boy’s bidding is more fun than ignoring me for a few minutes.”

You could tell he was about to leave anyway. So you tried one more thing.

“He’d probably want you to watch me,” you pointed out. “Make sure I don’t choke on a grape or something.”

Frank’s mouth twitched, though it wasn’t quite a smile. After a moment of indecision, he surprised you by sitting down with you. You’d been trying to get Frank to talk to you for days, but he was definitely the strong and silent type. The good soldier, following his orders. 

You were a curious person by nature, but more than that, you wanted to know what kind of men your captors were. You weren’t just learning Soldier Boy. You had to learn his team too.

So you offered Frank a grape. He met you with a raised brow, but he didn’t take it. You shrugged and popped it into your mouth.

“So,” you started, tucking into your sandwich next. “Ex-military, turned private sector?” 

Frank shot you another look. He was older than you, though not quite old enough to be your father. He could have been around M.M.’s age.

“You carry yourself like an military man. Marine maybe,” you guessed. 

Frank sighed and gave a short nod. “Good guess.”

“My father was a Marine,” you said. And that was the truth. Military men ran in your family—from your father to your grandfather, though you’d never met the latter. He’d died of liver and kidney failure, thanks to good old-fashioned alcoholism.

Frank snorted. “My condolences.” 

You eyed him with a small smile. “You got a family? Wife and kids?”

He hesitated, casting his gaze ahead. You sensed it was a question with a potentially loaded answer, so you let it be. 

“Yeah,” you said. “I know the feeling, being married to your job. Harder to quit than heroin.” 

When you offered him another grape, this time, he actually took one.  

Being able to tell between night and day somehow told your body that the night was no longer for sleeping. So your wandering continued that night. 

Moonlight poured through the tall windows outlooking the garden, but most of the mansion was dark and eerie and all but silent, except for some quiet rain pattering outside. 

It’s like an episode of Scooby Doo in here, you thought with a shiver. The long halls were empty and mostly dark, with just a few dim wall lights along the way. Still, you’d rather be alone than run into one of Soldier Boy’s goons, or even the man himself. 

But you wanted to rejoice when you found the kitchen. Finally, you could put together a meal for yourself that wasn’t a damn sandwich. 

Both the pantry and fridge were fully stocked with expensive-looking ingredients. At the moment though, you weren’t so hungry for a heavy meal as you were for a snack. Maybe something for your incurable sweet tooth. 

You rifled through and found something you recognized: a family-sized tray of Chips Ahoy. 

Ooh, success! With a grin, you ripped open the top and rifled through the cupboards for a glass.

“The hell’re you doing?”

You jumped with a yelp at the voice that startled you. You looked over your shoulder and frowned in annoyance when you noted Soldier Boy in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame. A snappish retort was on your tongue, but at the last moment, you held onto the threads of your temper.  

Don’t be difficult, you reminded yourself, however much the thought grated.

“Midnight snack,” you replied, nodding to the open parcel of cookies. “Want some?”

You took out two glasses without looking at him, but you could hear him approach. When you went to the fridge to look for some milk, you noticed him take a seat at the kitchen island in front of you, where there were three stools. 

“What’re you, a fucking eight-year-old?” he remarked. You raised a brow at him and took no less than five cookies from the tray. 

“You’re never too old for milk and cookies,” you said sagely. You were a proud dunker, and you did so until your cookie was half-soggy with milk. You shoved an entire one into your mouth and looked him in the eyes when you did it. 

His lips tugged upwards, dryly amused, while his gaze not-so-subtly raked over your form. You almost rolled your eyes, but you resisted. He could take in your oversized shirt and sweats all he wanted.

“‘S that a man’s shirt?” he asked. 

“Yeah. Not a lot to pick from here at the Holiday Inn,” you quipped. You were running out of clean items that would actually fit you, and you weren’t about to run around here in some of the slutty shit you’d found.

“Can’t sleep?” You distracted him with the question, then slid a glass of milk in front of him. Regardless of what he said, he’d glanced at those cookies twice. 

This was an opportunity, you thought. A chance to get into his head, see what the fuck made him tick.   

Soldier Boy eyed the milk, then you. After a moment, he grabbed a cookie and took a bite. He didn’t answer your question, and instead asked one of his own.

“How’d you get caught up with Butcher?” he asked. 

You smiled behind your glass. It seemed he was curious about you too. 

“I work at Supe Affairs.” That was easy enough for you to admit. And if he was smart, he would’ve had Frank run a background check on you. 

Soldier Boy snorted. “Yeah, I figured that fucking much. Doesn’t answer my fucking question.”

So damn rude. You wanted to sigh. 

“I help run surveillance,” you said. But before he could ask his next predictable question, you continued, “Grace Mallory recruited me because I was a private investigator…and like you, I worked at Vought for a while.”

His attention piqued at that. 

“Though your tenure was a bit before my time,” you couldn’t help a light jab. 

His lips curved again. “Why’d you take a job you couldn’t hope to win? You got some vendetta against me, like Butcher?”

You arched a brow, watching him shove another cookie into his mouth. If anyone had a vendetta against him it was M.M., but trust Soldier Boy to conveniently forget murdering the man’s grandfather.

“You’re asking if I’m obsessed with you? I think not,” you said with a genuine chuckle, then sipped at your milk with some decency. Unlike your companion, who already had a pile of soggy crumbs on the counter beneath him.

Soldier Boy shot you a frown, and his eyes said he didn’t believe you. He sat back in his chair, his jean-clad legs falling open casually. His gaze on you, however, was anything but. You wouldn’t admit it, but it made heat creep up the back of your neck.

“Really?” he said. “‘Cause I gotta tell ya, sweetheart. During your slutty little seduction act, you were pretty fucking responsive.”

He rubbed his palms slow down his thighs, like he could still feel yours wrapped around his hips and grinding your hot core against his slacks. 

You stared back at him as your lips pressed together. 

Soldier Boy tilted his head at you, his smile turning smug. “The filthy sounds I was getting outta you…”

You set down your glass on the counter. Reaching for another cookie, you rested your elbows on the counter and leveled him with a teasing smile of your own. 

“Unlike you, Ben, I’m a good actor,” you replied. 

His brow twitched at that, however subtle. You couldn’t tell if using his real name annoyed him, or if it just added to the game you two were playing. But it felt right, stripping him of at least that façade. 

He wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t even a superhero, really. He was just a man. 

Albeit, a super fucking strong one with an ego the size of Empire State. But a man. The same kind you’d dealt with all your life. 

And he crossed his arms, like he was starting to lose his patience with you. 

“Then why’d you come out here?” 

Munching on a dry chocolate chip, you answered, “To get paid. Why else?” 

Again, it didn’t look like he believed you. 

“You don’t look the type,” he said.

“Don’t I?” you said. He seemed to know you were holding something back, but not willing to admit he wanted to know it. 

And you weren’t willing to give it to him. He didn’t need to know that you’d taken this job to support your family. Because what the hell would he know about family? 

…But at the same time, his curiosity just made it all the clearer: in whatever small way, you’d piqued his interest. He wanted to figure you out. 

And maybe that was the real reason you were still alive. 

It started to happen like that more often.

Midnight snacks, as you’d continued to call it in your head. When you couldn’t take being alone with your thoughts (or being alone at all), if you made your way to the kitchen you often found Ben.

Whatever was keeping him awake, he seemed to crave the company as you rifled through the pantry. From alfajores, macarons, and chips, to the entire leftover ham from dinner, he often smoked a large blunt and ate whatever you found. 

You’d taken a hit once when he offered, but the shit was so strong than you abstained afterwards. You wanted to be in your fully right mind around him.

And you talked—about the old-ass TV shows he never got to see the end of, and the new music he hated. You’d enjoyed (gently) teasing him about being an old man who didn’t understand Cardi B when you played it on his phone. You suspected he didn’t quite understand how all the bells and whistles worked on an iPhone yet. (But he’d taken it back from you before you could text anyone.)

“In my day, there was a little more fucking class,” he’d said. “Sinatra. Nat King Cole. Christ, the fucking Beatles.” 

You’d rolled your eyes at that. You liked all those guys too, actually. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t bang out all the words to “Bodak Yellow” and “Please Me.” 

You also talked about the movies he missed out on. The ones you thought he’d probably enjoy, like the Terminator sequels and Liam Neeson’s Taken (if only for the sheer irony). And all the while, he asked you probing questions he likely thought were subtle. 

“What did you do at Vought?” he asked over chips and salsa. 

You thought the salsa was a bit too spicy, but he was lapping it up. It both amused and disgusted you. 

Until he licked some of it off his fingers. Catching your gaze, his became mischievous. He slid his fingers out of his mouth with an obscene noise. All the while, his deep green eyes held yours. 

You would never admit to being turned on, but you felt your cheeks warming up as you fought not to react, watching the juices drip down his fingers.

“I ran down criminals for the supes to ‘catch’ them,” you managed to reply. “They just got to do the sweeping in part.”

“Lazy shits,” he remarked, licking off the remaining salsa from his hand. You tried not to focus on the sight of his tongue. Afterwards, he gave you reprieve by wiping his hands on a paper towel.

What the fuck is wrong with me? You inwardly shook your head at yourself. 

“Back in my day, we actually ran down our own leads,” he said. “Sure, we got tips every now and then, but we did our own busts.”

You didn’t know how much of that you could believe, considering he’d never even fought in World War II, despite his numerous claims of pounding Nazis up the ass.  

“How’d you end up there, anyway?” he asked. 

“Vought paid more than private practice,” you wryly replied. 

He eyed you then. “And before?”

Before? Was he just bored, or did he genuinely want to know about your life? 

Still, this was starting to veer into things you’d rather not talk about.  

“Worked for my dad’s P.I. firm,” you said, making an effort to untighten your spine. “I learned what I know from him.”

That much was the truth, though you hadn’t spoken to him in over a year. 

Ben chortled, making you frown. “‘A’ for fucking effort there, sweetheart.”

You huffed. Yes, you did realize the irony of being kidnapped by the man you’d hunted down (sort of). Didn’t mean he had to be such an asshole about it.

“He must be fucking proud,” he added. Your gaze sharpened with irritation. 

“Like your dad was proud of you?” out came your pointed reply, before you could stop yourself.  

His amusement faded, likely as he stared back at you and saw that you knew for a fact what he’d told Butcher.

A fucking disappointment.

He didn’t bother lying, but his lip curled into a sneer. 

“Be careful, sweetheart,” he warned. You heard the underlying threat in his voice. You forced yourself to keep your mouth shut, lowering your eyes. The act was grating on you, boiling your blood.

But it seemed to mollify him enough. He let out a low chuckle. 

“I’ll let that one go,” he said. “Next time, I might not be so fucking nice.”

You believed him. 

It was a week of this, before you finally found out the hard way where Ben’s room was. 

You were wandering down a long hallway on the second floor, over in the west wing of the house. Your room was in the east, so you really hadn’t seen this side of the mansion before. The problem was, all these halls were looking the same to you. 

And now you had no idea how to get back to the main hall, where by now you could navigate downstairs to the kitchen, the back garden, the pool hall, a study room (with several shelves of books), a gym, and even an indoor movie theater. 

Suddenly, you thought you heard a woman’s voice, high and giggly. What the hell?

Your natural curiosity led you farther down the hall, where you could see light and movement beneath the closed door. Whatever (and whoever) was in there, you really should just let it be. 

You’d been able to successfully avoid Ben for the past few days, and you didn’t feel like dealing with the headache of another encounter with him—for as long as you could manage it.

So you were just about to turn back and keep on your merry way.  

But when you heard a slap, followed by a feminine cry of pain, you halted in your step. With your brows crunching in concern, you couldn’t help but approach the door again. You leaned in to listen.

Another slap, another pained mewling from the girl. Your mouth turned down in an angry frown of alarm. 

What the fuck is going on? You didn’t know what kind of sick shit he was into, but if he was hurting some poor girl for his own entertainment, you knew you couldn’t just walk away. 

After one more second of hesitation, you gripped the door handle and shoved it open. 

What you found seared your eyes. 

In unblinking shock, you took in the shambled state of Ben’s room. Clothes strewn haphazardly about, remnants of lines of coke on the coffee table, plates of half-eaten delicacies left on a wheeled in buffet, bottles of liquor, half-empty glasses and shots rolling around. 

And a California king bed occupied the center, where the sheets and pillows had fallen off while Soldier Boy fucked no less than five prostitutes. All looked to be of various ethnicities and a wide age range. The oldest of them looked saggy enough to be in her seventies, but she was working as hard and skillfully as the rest of them.  

One of the younger ones, maybe around your age, was getting spanked by one of his large hands while another girl’s head bobbed over his lap with gusto. The other three were finding things to do, whether on the man himself, or to each other in front of him on the bed. 

In reality, you probably took all this in for just a few seconds. 

But a gasp fell unbidden from your lips, along with a “Jesus fucking Christ!”

Ben looked like he had been working up a mild sweat. Broken from his concentration though, he glanced up at you. And then the broadest, Cheshire cat fucking grin spread across his face. 

“Hey, baby doll,” he greeted mischievously. “You here to join in? Here, tag in for, uh…what’s your name again, sweetheart?”

He looked down and grabbed the shoulder of the girl in his lap. She released his cock out of her mouth for a second to answer, “Jasmine.”

“Sure,” he said with a nod. Then he frowned and gestured to his still rock-hard dick. Your eyes widened in shock—both at the audacity, and at the size of it. You blushed hotly.

“But don’t fucking stop now, Jesus,” he said to the girl. And he looked over at you with a raised brow. “Unless you wanna jump in…but seriously, don’t make me wait all fuckin’ day here.”

Your face contorted in disgust. 

“There’s not enough fucking therapy for this,” you muttered. 

Then you fled the room, slamming the door behind you so hard that it rattled. It still didn’t muffle his laughter behind the door. 

Your face, neck, and the tips of your ears were on fire as you hastened down the hall. 

By the time you got to the kitchen, you could even hear your rapid heartbeat in your ears. You set a hand over your chest and felt the thump, thump, thumping under your palm. 

Images continued to flash through your mind—naked flesh, bouncing tits, shockingly adept wrinkled hands. And then the man’s chiseled bare form, planes of tanned skin over muscle, and strong-looking hands.  

Fucking hell. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of your brain’s ongoing loop, but it was a losing battle. With a long and frustrated sigh, you reached into the fridge and grabbed all the ingredients you needed to make a damn sandwich. 

You knew Ben had hired a personal chef (Simone, you thought her name was), but you were pretty sure she was currently part of the service the supe entourage today. 

You slapped together a turkey and provolone sandwich with some lettuce, mayo, and a pickle for added “razzle dazzle.” 

Though on second thought, you put the pickle back. 

With an aggravated huff, you stood at the counter and tore into your dinner (you were too angry to sit at this point). You devoured half of it and nearly a whole bag of Doritos by the time that cocky bastard strolled in like the cat that got the cream, and clearly, more than once.

He looked freshly showered, and finally clothed in casual pants and a buttoned down shirt, rolled up on the sleeves.

Ben eyed you with a smirk. You raised a brow at him. 

“That was fast,” you remarked. “I expected you to be in that fuck dungeon all night.” 

“I wouldn’t call it a dungeon,” he said, leaning on the other side of the counter opposite you. “More like a cellar of fine delectables.”

You snorted. “All right, Hugh Hefner. I want to scrub my eyes with bleach.”

“Didn’t look that way from where I was sitting, doll face,” he quipped. His brow rose at you with a salacious, curling smile. You leveled him with a look. 

“At the very least, you would’ve ended that little dry spell of yours,” he added playfully. 

Your gaze sharpened at that. You dropped your sandwich on the plate to glare at him. “Excuse me?”

“What’s it been?” he asked, leaning closer into your personal space with a more knowing grin. “Don’t really fucking tell me it’s been three years since somebody’s laid you out right.”

Despite your outrage at his audacity, your mouth fell open the slightest bit. 

“What…”

Again, he eyed your form, and not subtly at that. Today you’d found a pair of jeans that you’d managed to squeeze into. The polo shirt clinging to your waist and ribs and tight across your breasts wasn’t helping you either.

But you were honestly surprised he could still be looking at you like that when he’d just been doing some Olympic-level fucking. 

Your spine tightened nervously when he straightened to his full height, walking around the kitchen counter towards you. His hand slid across the surface, his head tilting at you in amusement. 

“It’s amazing what you can hear on shitty hotel roofs,” he said. 

Your eyes widened when you understood what he was getting at. When you were on the phone with your sister… 

“Maybe then you’ll—and let me not shock you here—meet someone,” Louisa had said. “And finally put an end to that three-year goddamn dry spell.”

And that prickly feeling you’d felt then, licking up your spine and raising the hairs on the back of your neck…

“You were watching me,” you realized.  

Ben just looked down on you with a deepening smirk. His green eyes were alight with mischief, and yeah, probably lust too.   

“You fucking creep,” you said, with both a sigh and a roll of your eyes (despite your growing blush). 

He chuckled and raised a hand to lightly grip your chin. “That’s not very nice.”

You glared up at him, too angry and stubborn to remember to mind your temper. He seemed to like it though, working you up. He teased and prodded you enough, almost like a little boy trying to get a girl’s attention. Except this one was the most powerful supe alive.

So why does he like it so much, this stupid cat and mouse thing?

Not for the first time, you wondered why he decided to keep you around. And you had a feeling it wasn’t just to bait your friends. Maybe he just liked toying with you, seeing how far he could push until you snapped.

And then what? you wondered. 

Though if you were honest with yourself…you were just as into this little game as he was, albeit for different reasons. You wanted to understand him. 

At first, it was the job. Know the man you’re after.

But now, it was more. Knowing Soldier Boy, getting to know Ben would be the key to making it out of this situation alive. You just knew it…if only he didn’t make it so damn frustrating. 

“Seriously, tell me,” he said, still with a deceptively light grip on your chin. The pad of his thumb brushed your full lower lip, making your breath hitch. He glanced down at your mouth, then back into your eyes. 

“How fucking long’s it been since that pretty pussy’s been touched?” he asked. “‘Cause in my opinion, that’s a crying shame.”

For a moment, your breath got stuck in your throat. You felt a hot blush rising in your cheeks, down your neck…and maybe warmth between your legs at the mere suggestion.

You inwardly steeled yourself, clamping down on your anger and your embarrassment. Instead, you leveled him with a cool smile. 

“Not forty years, I’ll tell you that,” you said. 

While he raised a brow, he let you slowly push his hand away. You left him in the kitchen soon after, but he watched you go. Whether you meant to or not, the sway in your hips and your delectable ass in those tight fucking jeans made his dick twitch. 

Figures, he thought, that you’d get all fucking huffy. He shrugged and picked up half the sandwich you left behind. 

You found nothing else for your frustration but to head outside.

With a sigh, you sat down at the edge of the massive pool and just dipped your legs in. You didn’t have a swimsuit, and you didn’t want to take any chances by getting your clothes wet around here. Or even worse, stripping down to your bra and underwear. 

You blushed at the memory of Ben’s proximity, his touch, his rich, teasing voice that dripped with lustful promise. And that just reminded you of the scenes from his room, which flashed in your mind every so often like a bad porno. 

Shit. You absently bit at one of your nails. Ben had also heard that entire conversation with your sister. That meant he knew about her, and that gave you no small amount of anxiety. 

But he already had you. He hadn’t tried to extort you for anything (yet). You knew though, that if he threatened Luisa, or tried to use her to manipulate you in any way, there wasn’t much you could do but play along, like everything else. 

Right now, anyway… 

You noticed a dark shape out of the corner of your eye, and for a moment you were annoyed, ready to tell Ben to give you a moment’s peace. 

But it wasn’t him. It was Tony standing near the end of the pool. He must’ve been freed from desk duty, or whatever Ben had him doing while he presumably recovered from his injuries.

“What up, Tony?” you greeted, unable to resist a teasing smile when you noticed the large boot for his broken foot. Now plus a few extra bruises from your last tussle. They were dark, but yellowing around the edges. 

His lips twitched at a cold smile. “They’re letting the little mouse out of her room now?”

You shrugged, smirking.

“You look good,” you replied. “How’re the balls though? Still broken?”

Tony expression tightened into a glare. “You better watch it, bitch.”

“Or what?” you challenged.  

There was enough distance between you and him across the pool for you to feel comfortable, but really, you weren’t too afraid of Tony.

Yeah, he was a dick. But you’d taken him down before. You could literally break his balls again if he needed more encouragement to fuck off. 

Tony just smirked back at you, deciding to leave you alone for now. You watched him head back into the house with sharp eyes. He wouldn’t take you by surprise again.

Frank was waiting for you when you got back to your room. You were more relieved to see him than you’d like to admit, and you greeted him with a genuine smile, before you noticed the shopping bags in his hands. 

“What’s this?” you asked. Frank dutifully handed you the bags, and inside you found new clothes. They actually seemed to be your size. 

You looked up at Frank, both shocked and grateful. “You got me clothes?”

“Boss’s orders,” he revealed. Your brows rose high at that. 

“He told you to do this?”

Frank expelled a breath through his nose, hesitating, like he was debating how to frame his reply.

“He provided them,” he said. It felt like a confession, one that made your eyes widen at the implication.

Soldier Boy bought you new clothes? 

You didn’t know how to compute on this one, honestly. But you still answered with a tentative, “Oh. Well…thanks.”

He nodded, and soon left you with your thoughts and your spoils. You went into your room and dumped the bags onto the bed so you could examine their contents. 

There were casual shirts and yoga pants, a couple pairs of jeans, some sneakers, thank God. All the bras and panties, however, were lacey and expensive.

You shook your head with a smile, eyeing the labels. This man really went to Victoria’s Secret to buy you new underwear. 

It was both kind and somewhat sleazy, knowing he was going to be imagining you in the sexy, but admittedly tasteful lingerie. 

The “kind” part took you by surprise though. The clothes overall weren’t revealing or obnoxious. Even the underwear and bras were in styles you’d probably wear, under normal circumstances. 

So you put together an outfit out of one of the shirts and a pair of jeans, breathing a sigh of relief when you could peel the old ones off. 

This was a far cry from bullying and annoying you, and generally being an arrogant son of a bitch. 

The truth was, Ben was confusing you.

Perhaps now more than ever. 

AN: 🤭 Well, one would argue that she saw more sides of Ben than she thought she would (or wanted to). 😜

Let me know what you thought of this chapter! Things are definitely going to ramp up in the next one...

Keep Reading: PART 6

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[monstersandmaw]

Snowfall - a polyamorous m/m/m fantasy story ft. an elf, a vampire, and a draugr/lich (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me. 

I had a random and vivid dream about a draugr/lich with a secret, living in an old tomb in Skyrim and meeting a twinky, kinda foul-mouthed elven adventurer and his snooty, grumpy, (not-so-)secretly adoring vampire boyfriend. This was the result.

Daethir is pronounced 'day-theer', Nyr 'Neer', and Karsi 'car-si' (with a short 'i' like 'hit').

If you’ve not played Skyrim, none of the lore is needed to enjoy this story. It’s just someone else’s sandbox I’m playing in for some handy, pre-existing lore.

Content: Brief/passing mention of enslavement and mass sacrifice, genocide of an entire species, a tiny bit of blood and threat to life, and Daethir’s inner (and outer) monologue which includes a fair few uses of the word ‘fuck’.

Wordcount: 7589

Despite what the tattered remnants of his pride were trying to tell him, Daethir was most definitely, one hundred percent lost.

He was completely fucking disorientated in this dilapidated shithole of an ancient Nord tomb. He was also incandescently furious about that fact. 

His sense of direction was fucking legendary. He must have explored a hundred underground tombs and dwarven cities, sunk deep into the earth as well as forgotten places consumed by rambling forests, and never once had he got lost before. He’d even been to bloody Labyrinthian! But no. He’d taken a wrong turn somewhere maybe three or four hours back, and now he was balls deep in skeever shit and cobwebs, and couldn’t find the way out. 

“Oh man, Karsi must be going berserk out there,” he muttered through clenched teeth, breath billowing in the dark, cold tunnel. 

The draugrs’ strange compulsion to keep the tombs somewhat maintained for their slumbering master meant that there was nearly always light flickering in the sconces on the walls, and braziers were often found burning at the intersections of the tomb’s warren of passageways, and he found himself pathetically grateful that he wasn’t lost in the pitch black at least.

“Hold on, love,” he added as he set his jaw and tried to strain his senses for the faintest lift of a breeze in the stagnant air of the tomb. “I’m coming.” 

He hoped the vampire didn’t hurt himself trying to break through the unique enchantment that seemed to stop the undead from passing through it. Gods, Karsi had practically been spitting venom when he’d discovered he couldn’t enter the tomb with Daethir, no matter what spells he hurled at the doorway. Daethir, as usual, had slipped gleefully through in the blink of an eye and without a backward glance. 

“I didn’t even say goodbye,” he thought bitterly, and the pervasive fear of dying alone in the dark crystallised into something sharper and edged with guilt when he realised that Karsi would never know exactly how he died, and would never be able to recover his lover’s body. “Shit.”

Something moved up ahead and he froze. 

Blue eyes in the dark.

Shit.

A draugr Death Lord from the size of it, and from that ugly horned helmet.

Before he could formulate any sort of plan, hands reached out from the darkness behind him. 

One clasped right over his mouth to form a perfect seal against the scream that rose unbidden from the pit of his stomach, and the other wrapped around his waist, and he found himself lifted bodily off the floor and into an alcove.

Naturally, like the well-trained, level-headed, and seasoned rogue he was, Daethir thrashed in blind and abject panic, lashing out with his heels until a hoarse, scraping voice rasped in his ear, “Auri-el have mercy, stop! I’m trying to save your life!”

Deciding that his luck might have been on the cusp of changing, or that he was about to become easy prey for some maniac who apparently lived down there in the dark tunnels of an ancient Nord tomb, Daethir went limp. He was not put down.

For a long few minutes, neither of them dared move in case the slightest sound attracted the Death Lord who was patrolling the corridor up ahead. Like an extremely loyal but not terribly bright guard dog, it swung its head back and forth, growling and snarling to itself and adjusting its grip on the enormous ebony war axe in its right hand. At the way the light played along the black blade of that axe like firelight on oil, Daethir shuddered involuntarily into the grasp of his mysterious rescuer. 

“Easy,” the voice breathed, right in his ear. His tapering, sensitive, elven ear. 

He shuddered again and tried not to gasp for an entirely different reason this time. Funny how terror and pleasure seemed to go hand in hand for him. After all, he was dating a vampire, and the two of them frequently mixed feeding and fucking, so he was no stranger to a healthy dose of of fear lacing his pleasure. But now was absolutely, categorically not the time to start getting turned on by a strong stranger manhandling him in a dark tomb. Gross, Dae, get it together. 

The hand across his mouth was warm and leathery and strong, and by the faint glimmer of torchlight from beyond their shadowed alcove, he could see the faintest flash of bone-white flesh. Strange, but not totally unusual. People were born without pigment in their skin, after all. Heck, he’d spent an entire summer with an orc carpenter who had the most beautiful red eyes and skin so pale he couldn’t go out in the sun for long without burning. Caedrak hadn’t been able to see more than a foot in front of him, but he’d made the most beautiful things with his big, sensitive hands… 

Dammit, Daethir, pull yourself the fuck together. 

In the distance, the Draugr Death Lord huffed in irritation, then shuffled away in the opposite direction, and the figure behind him relaxed. 

“Before I let go of you, I need you to swear something,” the voice said.

It was a strange voice. Although it was as dry as the coarsest sands from Elsweyr, the consonants were crisply articulated, and it had a strange lilt to it, as though the speaker was used to the music of another language from another age. Karsi spoke a bit like that too, though nowhere near as much as this. Daethir, raised in the Ratway of Riften, spoke like a gutter-skeever with the brash accent to match. 

Still with the person’s hand clamped across his mouth, he couldn't do much to respond beyond a little noncommittal shrug, and received a dry chuckle in response. 

“Fine,” his saviour said with an evident smile, “When I release you, walk forward and do not look back.”

That… That was not what he’d been expecting. And the way the person spoke seemed so heartbreakingly sad that he felt his own chest constrict for a moment. He floundered a little, and, perhaps mistaking the movement for panic, his saviour set his feet back down on the ground. 

Slowly, hesitantly, those spider-pale hands drew back, and of course, Daethir immediately turned around. 

And screamed. 

Flailing, he staggered back into the corridor that had so recently been vacated by the Death Lord, and fell hard onto his backside, sprawled on the damp ground and staring up at the emaciated corpse of another draugr. 

Searing, sapphire blue eyes blazed out of a face devoid of all colour, so much so that for a heartbeat, Daethir thought he was looking at a skeleton, except this person still had flesh and muscle on their frame, even if it had all been withered away over time to white leather stretched over bone. 

Pale lips pulled back off perfect teeth in a grimace, and white, barely-there eyebrows tugged into a hurt expression so profound that Daethir found himself suddenly silenced by it. 

Then, because he was apparently pathologically incapable of keeping his mouth shut, he blurted, “Shit, I’m sorry, I just –”

At a croaking shout of triumph from the connecting tunnel, the pale draugr’s head twitched around and it let out a snarl of its own. “No time. Come on,” and with that, it surged forwards, grabbed Daethir by the wrist and hauled him to his feet with a strength that he would never have expected from a creature so thin. 

Unlike the other draugr he’d encountered on his way down into the depths of the tomb – the ones who’d stumbled around and dragged their bare feet along like stiff, empty Dwarven automata – this one was nimble and lithe, and it wore a loose, undyed linen shift that was belted at the waist and fell halfway down its emaciated thighs. Its feet were bare though, and as it turned and yanked him down a corridor, Daethir had to duck beneath a long, white plait that swung behind it like a flailing ship’s rope in a high wind. 

“Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming, ow!” he yelped, trying to keep his feet in the same frantic rhythm while also attempting to twist free of the vice-strong grip of the creature’s fingers. 

“Do not fall behind,” the draugr rasped, and then let go. 

“You’ll show me the way out?” he chirped hopefully, and the draugr glanced back over its shoulder. 

“I’ll take you to –” its eyes went wide and for a moment, Daethir thought the creature had tripped because it turned back abruptly and shoved him hard in the chest, sending him reeling. Daethir’s shoulder struck the tunnel wall and he let out an ‘oof’ of surprise on impact, but a second later, an ebony war axe embedded itself in the damp, softly crumbling stone of a mortuary shelf. 

“Holy shit,” he breathed, staring at the weapon. 

“Run! This way,” the strange, pale draugr gasped, and Daethir followed blindly. 

Something seemed to ripple and shimmer in the wall up ahead, and a blue light pulsed in the draugr’s hand as they charged towards the rockface. The creature seemed to be running straight at the section of wall that was warping disturbingly and Daethir’s feet slowed. 

“Don’t stop! Through the doorway, quick!” the draugr barked. 

“What doorway?!” he yelped, skidding to a stop a few paces behind the apparently mad draugr. “You’re nuts. This place has sent you round the bed. That’s a solid fucking wall right there, I’m not –”

“Come on!” the creature hissed in obvious frustration. It was unnervingly similar to the tone of voice Karsi took with him when he was exasperated, and Daethir was being stupid or stubborn (or both) about something. 

When Daethir didn’t move, and the footsteps and continuous cursing in a language he couldn't understand drifted round the corner from the fast-approaching Death Lord, the odd, silver-haired draugr rolled its eerie, blue eyes and snatched his hand again. 

With a yell of horror and surprise, Daethir was tugged forwards into the wall. He closed his eyes, expecting to be slammed into solid stonework, and was amazed when he found himself staggering right into the chest of the draugr, who nudged him to stand behind its back while it worked some kind of magic on the wall or portal. 

“The fuck…?” he breathed, chest heaving. 

The draugr, still holding his right hand, worked a spell with its left, and the doorway in the wall vanished and returned to looking like uninterrupted rock. 

“That’s never going to fool a draugr,” Daethir said, eyeing the spot sceptically. 

“Fooled you,” the creature quipped and turned to face him, releasing its hold on his hand. 

Daethir opened and closed his mouth like a landed carp for a good three seconds before heat flooded his tanned face and he looked away. “So, what, we’re safe now? And what the fuck are you?”

“Direct, aren’t you?” the creature said archly, and hell, if it didn’t remind Daethir of Karsi’s dry sarcasm.

At that thought, another bolt of guilt lanced through his chest and he looked up at the draugr. It wasn’t surprising that the draugr was taller than he was – it was hard not to be taller than Daethir, provided that one was over the age of about fifteen. He tried out his best smile and hoped it stuck. “It’s one of my many charms. Please, don’t let it stop you from showing me how to get out of this charming tomb you call home.”

The draugr’s soft laugh was like a handful of dry, autumn leaves, rattling around the narrow space that surrounded the two of them. It soon died though, and he let out a long, heavy sigh. 

“Oh no,” Daethir said, backing up a pace. “I don’t like the sound of that. You are going to show me the way out now, right?”

Slowly, the creature nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. Great. Let’s move the fuck along, shall we? I’ve got a vampire waiting for me outside who will probably thrall me into complete obedience for a week for disappearing and scaring him witless, and I’d rather not make it two if I can help it. Not that I mind him thralling me, quite the contrary actually, but two weeks is a long time to spend as a puppet, even if I do get the most toe-curling orgasms out of it. Fuck, I’m running my mouth. I do that when I’m nervous, and the way you’re just staring at me like I’m some kind of hitherto-unknown species of cave mushroom that’s suddenly gained sentience is unnerving. Also you never answered my question: what the fuck are you? And are we safe now?”

The draugr blinked. “Did you hit your head?”

“Beg pardon?” he asked, and reflexively brought his hand to the back of his head to search for blood or injury in his light brown hair. When he found none, it dawned on him that the question might have been rhetorical, and he pouted. “Oh, it’s funny too. Great. I found the only draugr in all of Tamriel with a sense of humour. You are a draugr, right? Because the whole ‘mummified and still walking around’ thing is usually a dead giveaway. If you’ll pardon the pun. Man, I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” the draugr said. “And yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, you are, and yes, I am.”

“I am what?”

“Running your mouth again, as you put it. And I am a draugr.”

“Oh. Fuck. Well, let’s crack on then, eh?” he chirped with a nervous little laugh, gesturing behind him up what appeared to be a narrow, upward-sloping tunnel. “Lead on to freedom, and all that. You can fill me in on the way.”

The creature gave a little snort of laughter and shook its head. Sections of white hair had come loose from its braid and dangled down into its glowing, blue eyes which gave it an altogether softer, dishevelled look. It cast a couple of glowing balls of light, with which Daethir was familiar from Karsi’s magic, and they floated away up the tunnel like dandelion puffs on the wind. 

Following the magelights, the draugr stepped around Daethir in the narrow tunnel, and as it passed, Daethir caught the soft scents of leather and parchment and incense, and the faint crackle of ozone that hovered around Karsi too. 

“You’re a mage?” he asked to break the thick silence that had flooded into the tunnel when the draugr had fallen quiet again. 

“Mm.”

“And you are definitely a draugr?”

“Mn.”

“You’re… different… from the others…” he said, inviting the draugr to expand on the statement. 

“Mmm.”

“You suddenly run out of words? What happened to Mr. Funny Undead from a minute ago? Wait, that was rude. I have no idea whether you’re a ‘mister’ or something else entirely. I’m sorry.”

At that, the creature gave another grinding chuckle and halted to look back at Daethir. “I am male, if that’s your question. My name is Nýráðr.”

The way his tongue trilled over the ‘r’ and ‘th’ sounds sent a thrill through Daethir’s whole body. “Neer-ath-ur,” he repeated, frowning. “That’s… It sounds elven, but… I’ve never heard it before.”

“It’s old,” he replied, and Daethir got the impression that there was some dark humour in his tone that was lost on the relatively young Bosmer. “If it’s too much of a mouthful for you, you can just call me Nyr.”

“Right. I’m Daethir.”

“You are a Wood Elf, are you not?”

“Yup, though I’m not the ‘live in the woods in my underwear and commune with squirrels’ kind of Wood Elf, so don’t go making assumptions.”

The laugh that fluttered out of Nyr was like ripping parchment, but it sounded full of unexpected delight all the same. Centuries, even millennia, as a slowly-desiccating draugr had wrought a heck of a lot of damage on the creature’s whole body by the look of it, and from the sound of things, his vocal cords hadn’t escaped unscathed either. Daethir mused that perhaps he would have had a voice as smooth and haunting as Karsi did when he had been fully alive, and something twinged in his chest at the creature’s loss. 

“Well,” the draugr said, “Since we’re not making assumptions about each other, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t assume I was a mindless drone like all my fellow animated corpses down here.”

“I thought I’d already made it abundantly clear that I don’t think that,” Daethir scowled. “And you were the one who implied I had no more brains than a Death Lord…”

“You were the one who thought I was going to ram you into a wall,” Nyr countered, glancing back over his shoulder. This time, as he moved, Daethir caught sight of his pale, very tapered ear and his footsteps halted abruptly. 

With his eyes wide, he stared at the elven shape of the draugr’s ear and his jaw dropped. 

“What?” Nyr asked, stopping too and turning properly to face him. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re… an elf,” he blurted stupidly, and then went on in a slightly hysterical ramble. “I mean, the name should have given it away, but… holy shit, you’re an elf! I thought draugr were all human. I mean, the Nordic kings who built these tombs were… you know, humans, and they were famous for killing everything that didn’t have a perfectly rounded ear, and they had human courts and human servants and subjects, and what the fuck?” His voice ended in a little squeak as he ran out of breath.

A slow, sad smile crept onto Nyr’s sunken features, and he sighed. “I am an elf, you’re right. Are you so far removed from my time that our story has been forgotten? Did not the Atmorans start out as our friends and allies only to betray us and subjugate us instead?”

“The Night of Tears,” Daethir exhaled, reeling. 

In the cold blue glow of Nyr’s magelight, the draugr’s face settled into a frown. “I… I don’t know what that is.”

“You must have died before that all went down then,” he said, trying to scrape together what he remembered of it from Karsi’s impromptu fireside history lessons. “Shit. It was a massacre. Snow Elves descended on the human city of Saarthal in the north one night. After years of uneasy peace, they slaughtered everyone and, rumour has it, took or locked away something of great power beneath the city. After that, the humans retaliated and began the systematic genocide of all the Snow Elves in Tamriel.”

The draugr swayed and staggered, catching himself with a hand on the wall before he could collapse completely, and he stared wild-eyed at him. “They’re… They’re all gone?” he hissed, his bony chest rising and falling in fast, shallow gasps. “There are no more of us?”

“Us?” he asked, and then he really saw the white hair and colourless skin, and he understood at last. “Holy shit, you’re a Snow Elf?”

Mute, he just barely managed a nod. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I should have realised and told you more gently. Karsi would have realised what you are immediately. I’m sorry,” he said, and stepped closer, closing his hand around the bare, bony forearm of the elven draugr.

“None of us…?” he asked, unable to finish the question. 

“Not as far as I know,” Daethir said, much more gently this time. 

He squeezed Nyr’s forearm and felt the bones shift beneath, and barely resisted the urge to jerk away in surprise. Even with his small hands, he could close his thumb and fingers around Nyr’s emaciated forearm. This close up, he could also see the way his collarbones stuck out beneath the open ‘v’ of his linen tunic’s neck, and his hollow cheeks looked all the more gaunt in the blue light that cast harsh shadows down over them. Even so, there was a cut-glass beauty to the creature with his high cheekbones and elegant jawline. 

“I’m sorry, Nyr.”

The Snow Elf swallowed, blinked glassy eyes, and looked down at the point where Daethir was touching him. For a long moment, he stared, and Daethir wondered if he shouldn’t have been so forward, but the draugr gave another wheezing sigh and placed his left hand over Daethir’s and squeezed gently. 

“Nothing lasts forever,” he whispered. The sound of it was like a winter wind in bare branches, and Daethir shivered. He felt like cold hands were scraping down his spine.

“What will happen to you now?” Daethir asked, still holding onto the draugr. Nyr’s body was warm – far warmer than Karsi’s undead vampire body – and his skin was supple and unbelievably soft. He’d always expected draugr to be fragile and papery, like mildewed parchment, or slimy and rotten, but Nyr was neither. He had just wasted away over time. Daethir wondered exactly how much time he’d spent alone in the dark down here, with nothing but shuffling, insentient corpses for company, and his heart went out to him. The last of his species, and confined in the tomb of his oppressors for generations while the world went on without him. “Nýráðr?” 

At the sound of his full name on Daethir’s tongue, the draugr startled softly and offered him a smile that went all the way up to the corners of his kindly eyes. “If I am not caught in the next few days, the Death Lord will forget about all of this. They’re not terribly bright, after all.”

Daethir narrowed his eyes. “That means you think I’m not terribly bright, if I was as easily fooled as a fucking draugr. No offence, you know,” he added with a pointed look up and down at the draugr in front of him. 

Nyr’s grip on his hand tightened for a fraction before he let go and dropped his arm, laughing quietly, that autumn rattle back in his voice. “None taken,” he said, turning to continue leading Daethir up the passage. “And in my defence, you should have been able to see through that enchantment. It really wasn’t very strong. It doesn’t have to be to keep the majority of my fellow tomb-dwellers out.”

“I’m not exactly proficient at seeing magic,” Daethir mumbled. “Can’t cast a spark myself, and scrolls are… unpredictable. Even the ones idiot Nords with no magic are supposed to be able to use,” he added morosely. 

“Elves with no magic whatsoever were not common in my time, but not unheard of. I apologise. I shouldn’t have made fun of you for it.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he huffed. “Karsi is always taking the piss out of me for it. He’s pretty adept at magic – could run rings around most of the stuffy old mages at the College of Winterhold. Even the Archmage, if you believe him. He does think quite highly of himself though, so it’s hard to tell.”

After a lilting pause in which only the sound of their soft footfalls could be heard, Nyr said, “You’re fond of this ‘Karsi’.”

“Fond? Fond doesn’t even begin to cover it. I’m besotted. Head over heels. Enraptured by. Enamoured of. Utterly fucking smitten.” He did his best to emulate, and perhaps exaggerate, Karsi’s refined, educated way of speaking while he rattled off a list of synonyms for ‘completely fucking whipped’. 

Again, Nyr gave a rasping chuckle. “You don’t sound terribly thrilled about that.”

“Of course I’m ‘not terribly thrilled’ about that!” he exclaimed, gesturing up in the air with his hands. “The bloke’s a century-old vampire whose more educated than most princes, he’s elegant as fuck, can talk me into a stupor in a single sentence, and is more beautiful than all the Divines.”

“How is any of that a bad thing?” Nyr asked, still sounding amused by Daethir’s petulance over the matter. 

“Well, you might have been starved for beauty down here in the dark for a billion years, so I can see why my face might look like it was carved by a devotee of Dibella, Goddess of Love and Sex and Beauty,” he said with deep sarcasm, “But if you’d seen a single other living soul that didn’t resemble the back end of a raisin, you’d realise that next to literally anyone else, I’m about as ordinary as it gets. I’m ignorant as fuck about lots of things. I can’t do magic. All I’m good for is sneaking about, cutting purses, breaking into places I shouldn’t be, and hitting a target dead-centre at a hundred paces with a tiny piece of steel.”

It was only when he’d finished insulting the draugr that lived down here that he remembered who and what his companion was, and he fell into an awkward silence. Then, because he couldn’t bear it a second longer, he tacked on an apology that was way too late. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you’re like them. You’re not.”

“It’s alright,” he said softly. The sound was like a stone dragging across the tunnel floor. “I know what I am and what I look like by now.”

“Yeah, but you’re not like the other draugr I’ve seen.”

“Oh, goody. What a comfort it is to know that I’ll win the Annual Draugr Beauty Contest for another year in a row,” he said with caustic sarcasm. 

Before Daethir could recover from the unexpected and well-deserved reprimand, the draugr rounded the corner in the steadily-rising tunnel and they came to an elaborate, carved stone door that abruptly halted their journey. 

Pressing his emaciated palm against a point at the centre of the labyrinthine tangle of patterns, the draugr let his icy blue magic pour out of him and it ran through the channels of the maze like water, flowing all the way across to form a tapestry of blue and grey until, with a dull, grinding noise, the door opened slowly outwards, and a blast of freezing, snow-filled air rushed in. 

The wind lifted Nyr’s white hair off his face and Daethir stared as moonlight inked silver brushstrokes across his high cheekbones and down his straight nose and delicate jawline. 

For a moment, neither of them moved as the night opened up around them, but Daethir knew he had to make up for his inadvertently cruel comments, so he stepped close to the draugr and reached his hand out to cup his colourless cheek. 

Nyr’s searing blue eyes fluttered closed and he sucked in a sharp breath, going rigid beneath Daethir’s touch. He traced his thumb across the Snow Elf’s high, arching cheekbone and murmured, “You really are exquisite.” He meant it too. “Thank you for saving my life, Nýráðr. I will never forget you, nor your kindness to me.”

Like a cat long-starved of affection, Nyr tipped his head into Daethir’s palm and nuzzled him once. The longing in his gaunt face cut Daethir to the quick, but he stepped back and opened his eyes. “Nor I you, Daethir,” he said in a scraping rasp. 

Then his blue gaze sailed over Daethir’s head – not exactly a difficult task, given how much taller the Snow Elf was than the diminutive Bosmer – and he smiled. “Karsi, I take it?” he said dryly. 

Daethir turned and had the fleeting impression of a figure standing beside a small, smouldering campfire outside the main entrance of the tomb, eyes blazing red, before the image disintegrated into a twisting swarm of black bats and Karsi reappeared right in front of Daethir, his face burning like a vengeful spirit. 

“By Molag Bal’s unholy blood,” he cursed, gripping Daethir by the shoulders and lifting him away from Nyr as though he were a child that had strayed too close to a firepit. “Do you have any idea how long you’ve been gone?!” His tone was frantic and his eyes blazed red as he unleashed all his pent-up rage and fear. Then he turned with a snarl on Nyr and bared his fangs at him, putting himself between the two of them.

Magicka boiled to life in his hands, scarlet as blood and shifting eerily in the icy moonlight, and Daethir thrashed in his grip. “No! No! Karsi, no, don’t! Don’t! He saved my life, Karsi, don’t hurt him! Shit, Karsi! Fucking listen to me you overgrown, underfed leech!” 

Karsi’s head snapped back to Daethir and he froze, then loosened his grip on Daethir’s leather jerkin. “That’s a draugr,” he said flatly, as if Daethir had lost his wits down in the tomb. 

“Ten out of ten for observation,” Daethir sneered, looking around Karsi’s figure to meet Nyr’s gaze. “I told you he was the smart one.”

“So you did,” Nyr said dryly. He swallowed and stepped back into the shadows of the doorway, and Karsi flew at him. 

The moment he hit the threshold, Karsi collided with a magical barrier and rebounded as if he’d hit a solid wall. He grunted and hissed like a wet cat, shaking himself out and rounding on Nyr again. “Why would a draugr help an intruder instead of attacking?”

Daethir blinked. It had never occurred to him to ask that question. He really was fucking simple. 

Nyr’s lips twitched into his sad smile. “I couldn’t bear to see a fellow elf spend his eternity in the tomb of a human king who had been so cruel to our kind. Take care of him, Karsi,” he said, and turned away. 

The door didn’t immediately close, so Daethir did something that was so perfectly in-keeping with his track record of uninhibited stupidity, and darted after him before Karsi had realised what he was doing. 

The vampire snatched for him and roared in wordless fury when Daethir’s jerkin slipped through his fingers behind the impenetrable barrier and he heard the weight of compulsion in Karsi’s words as he added, “Daethir, come back here right now!”

“Doesn’t work if I'm not looking at you!” Daethir shot back merrily over his shoulder and was answered with another impotent yowl of fury from his lover. 

Nyr had stopped and was frowning in confusion at him. “What are you doing?” he asked. His voice was even softer now, as though talking so much had strained his fragile vocal cords to their limit and even Daethir’s sharp ears nearly missed the question. 

“I… I’m not sure,” he said honestly. 

“Go, Daethir,” Nyr said gently. “Go with Karsi and put this place out of your mind.”

“I’m not sure I can,” he breathed. “I… Do you have to stay here? Are you trapped by the barrier that’s keeping Karsi out? Wait, no, you just passed through it. Fuck, I’m so stupid sometimes,” he said, smacking his forehead with his palm. 

Nyr stepped closer and drew Daethir’s hand away from his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Karsi roared at him from the mouth of the tunnel. “Get your filthy corpse hands off him! I swear by all the blood in my body and all the blood I’ve ever taken in the unholy sacrament of feeding that I will rip you apart and scatter your remains to the wolves if you don’t unhand him!”

“Ignore him,” Daethir snorted at Nyr without looking around. “He’s always had a terrible flare for the dramatic, and it only gets worse when he’s like that.”

“He’s worried for you,” Nyr smiled, and he let go. “Cherish it.”

“Tolerate it, more like,” Daethir said with a sigh. “But yeah. Do you have to stay here?”

“Look at me, Daethir. Where else could I go? I’m the last of my race, if what you say is true, and you will probably be the first and only person not to take one look at me and decide I must be destroyed on the spot.” He jutted his delicate chin towards the tunnel mouth where Karsi was pacing and snarling with bared fangs, his eyes locked on the pair of them. “He’s already proven my point.”

“Pfft, you’re not that special. He’s like that with anyone he thinks is a threat to me, and with how often I get myself in a pickle, trust me, that’s quite a lot of people. It’s nothing personal.”

“It very much is personal, you dim-witted Wood Elf!” Karsi spat, though it came out as affectionately petulant now, rather than truly fearful. “Would you please, darling, love and light of my life, back away from that thing and come back out here to join me?” Sarcasm dripped so tangibly off his tone that Daethir could practically taste it. 

He sighed and continued to ignore the vampire. 

“Come with us. If you’re not bound to this place, come with us.”

“Why?”

“See the world? See what’s changed since you went in there,” he said, jerking his thumb down the passageway. “Get away from the shitty Nords who imprisoned you in there for all eternity –”

“-- Nords aren’t shitty anymore?” Nyr asked, surprised. 

��Oh, no, they’re shittier than ever, especially to us elves, but –”

From behind him, Karsi sputtered. “‘Us’ elves?” 

“Shut up. You’re a Nord, Karsi, so you don’t get a say in this,” Daethir barked without bite. 

They heard Karsi’s inhalation of surprise, even above the wind that whistled around the mountaintop tomb. “He’s an elf? Daethir, the Nords who made the draugr would never have used elves for draugr servants. They thought they were animals!”

“Worse than animals, actually,” Nyr said with a sharp smile. “They enslaved us. We weren’t even afforded the same dignity you’d give a dog.”

Karsi fell still and silent at that and stood staring for a long time. Finally, he breathed, “That hair…” He let his red gaze slide up and down Nyr’s skeletally thin body and then added, “You’re a Snow Elf.”

With a quiet dignity, Nýráðr bowed his head with closed eyes. 

Daethir watched his lover for a long time, sensing the kind of thoughts that would be racing through that scholar’s head of his. Making a silent ‘wait there’ gesture to Nyr, he turned and went back to Karsi. 

The vampire’s eyes were unfocused, now staring unseeing at the floor near the doorway to the tomb. 

“Karse…?” Karsi truly hated that nickname because it was the word for a small, edible plant that went well with egg sandwiches in some highborn circles, and sure enough, it snapped him immediately out of his reverie. 

His upper lip twitched but his eyes faded from red to gold. That he wasn’t bothering with the glamour which he usually wore around himself like an old cloak was testament to how rattled he was. He sighed and lifted his eyes from Daethir to Nyr, who was still standing, much to Daethir’s relief, in the tunnel, watching them and silent as a silver spectre. 

“Think of all the questions you could ask him, Karsi,” Daethir insisted quietly. “You could annoy him into a second undeath with them all.”

Karsi’s mouth lifted at one corner into an amused smile despite himself. Then he looked down at Daethir and his eyes filled with tears. He brought both hands to Daethir’s jaw and choked, “You scared the shit out of me, love.”

“I know,” Daethir replied, placing his hands on Karsi’s waist. His heavy, wine-red robes were lashed around his slim middle with a thick band of black silk, into which was tucked a ruby-hilted dagger, and Daethir felt its cold bite against the bare inside of his wrist. “I’m sorry. I’m here though, and it’s entirely because of Nyr. He saved me from a Death Lord, and then when I freaked out over him being a draugr too, he saved me all over again and led me through a wall and then up here. To you. I’m alive because of him.” 

He paused and tilted his head sideways in a way that he saved for special occasions just like that one: unfortunate situations (usually of his own making) when he needed Karsi to be thoroughly wrapped around his little finger and eating out of his hand and helplessly unable to say no. 

Karsi swallowed. 

“I owe him my life, Karsi. You owe him my life. Shouldn’t we give him another chance at living too? Let him come with us…”

Karsi’s right eyelid twitched, and although he hadn’t uttered a word, Daethir knew he had him. 

He popped up onto his tiptoes, pecked the vampire on the cheek, and scuttled back to Nyr in the dark tunnel. 

He took the draugr by both hands and backed up towards the doorway, and to his surprise, Nyr followed. His movements were soft, graceful and fluid as a dancer, and Daethir thought again how strangely beautiful this creature was. 

Nyr stopped just shy of the threshold though, and met Karsi’s eye. He let go of Daethir’s hands and lowered his arms to his sides. Something wordless seemed to pass between the two that Daethir couldn’t unpick, and he looked from one to the other in helpless confusion. 

“Kay?” he chirped after a moment. “Nyr?”

Finally, Karsi drew in a long breath, held it, and then let it go in a rush. “Do you have anything you wish to bring with you?” he asked and Daethir almost yipped with the sudden rush of joy that bubbled up inside him. He hadn’t quite dared believe it until then. 

It was the same kind of excitement and trepidation he felt at the start of a new journey. No matter how many times he and Karsi had set off to find some new book or scroll or sacred offering pot, he felt the exact same flare of unbridled, effervescent joy, and now as he looked between the two undead creatures before him, he felt it again. 

“If I go back down there now, I will not come out again,” Nyr said in a barely there rasp. “The Death Lords will all know by now what I did, and how I betrayed them to get Daethir out. They will forget in a week perhaps, but I would have to conceal myself, and Daethir would freeze to death up here waiting, even with a fire.”

Daethir paused and watched Karsi’s expression as the realisation dawned on the vampire of the risk Nyr had taken to get his lover out alive. Then, he surprised Daethir by raising the inside of his left wrist – the side closest to his now-silent heart – to his canines and biting his own vein, sending droplets of his precious blood spattering onto the snow rimed stone at his feet. With ritualistic intonation, he said, “You’re right. I owe you the life of my beloved. By my blood I swear to do you no harm, and to protect you to the best of my abilities until my death or such time as you release me from my oath.”

Daethir’s eyebrows shot up. He’d never heard Karsi speak like that, and he’d certainly never given a blood oath to anyone, not that Daethir knew of anyway. Astonished, he looked at Nyr. 

The draugr stepped out of the doorway and around the small pool of blood that sparkled like a handful of rubies cushioned on the snow. He tilted his head slightly to one side, and smiled. “I shall do my utmost to be worthy of such an oath, vampire.” The word came out like an honorific, not an insult. 

For the space of ten heartbeats – twenty, if Daethir’s pounding pulse was the cadence by which such measurements were to be judged – no one moved or spoke. Finally, Karsi turned away and walked towards the fire, his long black hair blowing loose in the wind. He looked softer now, the tension melting from his shoulders, but Daethir knew his lover to the core, and he still bore some internal struggle. 

Daethir made a mental note to question him about it later, and then turned to Nyr. “Where to now?” he asked. 

“I will follow where you lead, Daethir.”

At that, Daethir sucked air in through his teeth in a comical grimace. “Terrible choice,” he grinned. “Luckily for you, I follow where Karsi leads, and Karsi is full of excellent ideas and great judgement.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” Karsi said over his shoulder as he stalked six paces ahead of them. “I just gave a blood oath to a draugr. You’ve rotted my brain with your company, Dae.”

Daethir grinned again and elbowed Nyr in his ribs. “You’re gonna fit right in, I just know it.”

Nyr smiled faintly and it was only then that Daethir realised that the draugr was still wearing just a linen shift and no boots. 

“Shit, Nyr, you must be freezing!”

“I’m not going to die of exposure, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Karsi snorted faintly, looking surprisingly amused until Daethir told him to take his own coat off and give it to Nyr, which he flat-out refused to do. 

“You can’t expect him to walk around barefoot, Karse!”

“He can strip one of the bandits in the entrance for armour,” Karsi shot back, gesturing at the main door to the tomb. “It’s not like they need it. I swore to protect him, not divest myself for his comfort.”

Without a word, Nyr left in the direction Karsi had pointed, and a few minutes later, he returned wearing the black mage robes of one of the frozen corpses just inside the door, with a long fur-trimmed cloak that caught the wind and flapped like bat’s wings, and tall, black leather boots cuffed with soft fur. The cloak had a hood, which he pulled up over his head, and with the shadows it cast, he almost looked unremarkable save for that long, silver braid that hung elegantly down over one shoulder. With those new clothes on, he looked thin, yes, but not undead. Until Daethir met his blue eyes. 

“Karsi, can you cast a glamour on him or something? Like the one you use? He shouldn’t have to worry about every last person we meet trying to hack his head off.”

The vampire nodded, and crossed their frozen campsite to meet him halfway. “If I may?” he asked, raising his right hand. Black and red magicka bubbled into his palm and Nyr eyed it warily, but nodded once. 

“I can do it myself,” he added, “But I think you’re a stronger mage than I, and you have more experience with alteration magic, I’m sure.”

Karsi just grunted something and circled his fingertips over Nyr’s face. In place of the haunted, sunken eyes and gaunt, hollow cheeks of a corpse, a beautiful, porcelain face stared out from under the hood, and the undead, blue glow of his eyes faded to the forget-me-not blue of a wild meadow in summer. 

“Holy shit, Karsi,” Daethir exhaled. “You don’t do anything by halves, do you?”

The vampire rolled his eyes and cast the same spell on his own face, and the black sclera faded to white, and the gold deepened to a warm brown, and Daethir tried not to mourn the loss of the ‘otherness’ in his two companions. 

“Karsi?” 

“Mn?”

“Can you… Can you make it so that I can see you both?”

“Without affecting the way others view us?” he clarified, and Daethir nodded. He looked to Nyr for his opinion, and when the draugr just shrugged, seeming almost curious about whether such a clause could be written into a spell like that, especially after it had already been woven, Karsi took it for the challenge it undoubtedly was, and made another gesture at the side of Nyr’s face. 

The face of a draugr stared back at him once again, and Daethir beamed. “I fucking love magic,” he laughed, and to his surprise, Nyr laughed too, shaking his head. “Do you mind? I mean, I was pretty rude about draugr a while ago, but I really didn’t mean to include you in it.”

“What, when you called my kind ‘the wrong end of a raisin’ or thereabouts?” he said, arching an eyebrow. 

Karsi burst out laughing, and the sound was so loud and honest and off-guard that all three of them began to laugh. It took a lot to make Karsi laugh like that, and the sound of it filled Daethir’s heart to bursting. 

He looped his arm through Nyr’s elbow and then dragged him round so he could stick his other arm under Karsi’s, and he dragged the two of them towards the fire and their discarded travel packs. 

“Come on,” he said, glancing up at the two of them. They were almost a match in heights, he noted from about a foot below them. “Let’s put this place behind us. Karsi, what was the next item on our list?”

“The Lunarstone Chalice,” he said dryly. “Last rumoured to be in a ruined temple in the mountains north of Markarth.”

“Ooh, Markarth. My favourite place in all the world,” Daethir chimed sarcastically, unlinking both arms so he could gesture grandly while walking backwards. “Second only to Windhelm in its snobbery towards elven kind, and the whole area is bristling with rabid, frothing lunatics called the ‘Forsworn’. Can’t think of a place I’d like to start Nyr’s tour of Tamriel more than bloody fucking Markarth.”

And then he caught his heel on a flagstone and pitched backwards with a sharp cry of surprise, only to find hands shooting out to catch him on either side. 

Nyr and Karsi hauled him upright before he landed ass-first on the icy stone, and Daethir grinned up at both of them.

“Alright,” Nyr said in his hoarse croak. “Let’s begin.”

__

If there's interest in these three, I'll happily add it to my 'to work on' list. Consider letting me know you enjoyed it by reblogging it or leaving a comment/ask.

Take care of yourselves, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

(if you enjoyed this draugr/lich boy, you might also like this story, featuring an altogether more shy and retiring draugr named Kalle, and the adventurer who falls in love with him over several visits to his tomb - m/f pairing).

#lich #draugr #vampire #elf #wood elf #bosmer #skyrim #skyrim story #skyrim oc #you don't need to know skyrim to read this though #polyamory #m/m/m

[icequeenbae]

Giving Love a Shot (m) | BBH

Previous: Snapshot (m) [pt.1], Shot Through the Heart (m) [pt.2]

Pairing: photographer!Baekhyun x idol!Reader

Photographer AU, Established Relationship, PWP, fluff, smut (the usual)

Warnings: explicit content, unprotected sex, Baek is the god of oral™

Word Count: ~3k

Summary: You and Baekhyun have been trying out the whole ‘dating thing’ for a few months now. He comes to visit you in Japan during your schedule and things take an unexpected turn.

© Please do not copy/ post on other platforms without permission.

Author’s note: Hey hey, your authornim is back!! Thanks to @hwasdollie who took on and completed her beta duties so swiftly, I am able to post this during my birthday month!! I might be able to post smth else for a different fandom before the end of June as well but shhhhh Anyways, since a few people approached me asking for the continuation of the photographer!Baek story, I decided it's time to get my act together and post it! I hope you like it!! And please don't stay silent, you know I love to chat 💕💕💕

Network Tags: @kvanity-main @exo-writers-net @bbh-net @superm-net

‘Goodnight, Miss.’

You bowed to the hotel staff in a polite manner, looking perfectly put together. They only saw your eyes anyway, with your habit of wearing a mask at all times. Especially now that you had all your makeup removed after the full day of interviews. As your skin got pretty sensitive, you didn’t like to walk around bare-faced where people could see. Or worse, take pictures.

Had anyone asked, you would say that you contained your excitement reasonably well. Considering how giddy you actually felt, knowing that your boyfriend was coming to visit tonight. Actually, you were so impatient that you texted him from the elevator.

‘I’m almost in my room. Where are you now?’

Baekhyun was actually supposed to be there before you, so you arranged a spare key to wait for him at the reception desk downstairs. Of course, you made sure that it was discreet. You left it in a sealed envelope stuffed with blank paper to be passed onto him as soon as he arrived. He didn’t text you back in the last thirty minutes, so you assumed he was probably still on his way.

Swinging the door open, you walked inside and instantly removed your shoes. Your legs were killing you after wearing high heels all day. Checking your phone again, you confirmed that no answer came through and decided to make a quick run for the bathroom.

Incredibly short – in your personal opinion – fifteen minutes later, you were all done. But there was still no response from your highly anticipated guest.

‘Where is he, dammit?’ You muttered under your breath, walking into the room to get fresh clothes.

But as soon as you turned the lights on…

‘Oh my g-’ You covered your mouth to silence yourself.

There, on the armchair, was a neat pile of clothes. Male clothes. Meanwhile, said male was… in your bed. Sleeping like a baby.

There he was, your unreachable boyfriend. Resting up well, instead of giving you a warm welcome as soon as you walked in.

As your heart rate returned to normal, you rolled your eyes. If he wasn’t making an effort to stay awake, you were going to change into comfy panties and a crop top, as sexy lingerie obviously wasn’t on the menu for tonight, and join him. Turning off the upper light, you left the wall sconces on both sides of the bed on. Just for a minute.

You crawled under the duvet, instantly embraced by the warmth generated by Baekhyun’s body.

Two assertive arms snaked their way around your body, hugging you tightly.

‘Oh- you’re awake?’ You whispered in surprise, being pulled deeper into his den.

‘M- ‘f course,’ he murmured, eyes still closed.

‘Yeah, right,’ you snorted, squeezing his bicep in mock frustration. ‘I see you grew tired of waiting for me…’

‘Not at all. Your pillows just smelled so nice. And I know you hate when I get on the bed wearing clothes.’ He said, and you nodded in agreement. ‘So, I showered and decided to surprise you.’

‘By sleeping in my bed?’

You huffed out a laugh, brushing his messy hair out of his eyes as he cracked one of them open.

‘I wasn’t supposed to be asleep.’ He began, watching you with just that one eye, like a sleepy pirate. ‘I had an entire performance planned.’

‘That so?’ You nudged.

‘Picture this: you walk in, and I’m already on the bed buck naked, holding a rock-hard dick in my hand. ‘Enjoy the ride’ banner right behind me.’

‘Oh gosh,’ you coughed. ‘I’m thankful you changed your mind.’

‘I didn’t. There was just no scotch tape. And while I was weighing the probability of you killing me in case I used bubble gum,’ he paused to catch your hand that could very well pinch him for the suggestion. ‘…I fell asleep. Just for a second. More like drowsed.’

‘Drooling all over my pillow?’ You teased, causing him to frown.

‘I only drool when I’m dreaming of eating you out, and we didn’t get to that tonight,’ he said in a tone that suggested it was obvious and you should’ve known better. ‘Drowsed for a sec, nothing more.’

You only chuckled, fingers tracing the lines of his face. His sharp jaw, his prominent cheekbones, his soft lips.

‘I missed you a lot, aegiya.’ He said out of nowhere, both eyes closed.

‘You saw me two weeks ago,’ you mumbled, becoming shy as soon as he used the pet name.

It was so strange, even after these past few months, to see him like this. How could anyone become so boyfriend-y all of a sudden? You had no idea Baekhyun even had a side like this when you decided to get into this relationship. He’d managed to surprise you in multiple ways already; him flying across the ocean just to see you was one of the examples.

‘Exactly. Don’t tell me you weren’t suffering through every single day away from me…’

His fingers traced the skin underneath your top, threatening to start tickling you, and you squirmed, pushing him away timidly.

‘Why are you so lovey-dovey out of the blue? Are you talking in your sleep?’

‘Hey, that hurts. The real question is, why aren’t you? Aren’t you happy to see your oppa?’ He kept tugging you closer as you resisted playfully.

‘Ew. I told you, I’m not calling you that.’

‘Why’s that,’ he leaned in to kiss your neck and you failed to push his face away.

‘Don’t be gross.’

‘You’re my aegi, and I’m older, so-’

‘There’s no kissing for oppas. Or anything else fun.’ You pressed, licking your lips. ‘Only for my boyfriend. Baekhyun.’

He looked at your mouth a second too long, before muttering a low.

‘I see.’

You swallowed, trapped in this demonstrative struggle.

‘I see how it is, Y/N.’ He repeated slowly, catching you off guard with a sudden tug to finally press your body to his. ‘You think you got me all soft for you, so now you can do whatever you wish, hm?’

You bit your lip, shivering in excitement. His voice sounded gentle but low. Whenever he used this tone, you knew it was time to be a good girl.

‘Please don’t scold me, Baekhyunie,’ you pouted, caressing his shoulder sheepishly.

‘You didn’t give me an answer. Are you happy to see me?’ He pulled away slightly to give you a sharp glance.

‘Of course.’

‘That’s it?’ His furrowed eyebrows made him look dissatisfied.

‘I missed you. A lot. Too.’ You mumbled, eyes wandering around his bare chest.

‘Why are you so flustered?’ He continued his questioning, not allowing you to move away from his slow offense. ‘Thinking dirty thoughts already?’

The exposed look on your face probably told him everything.

‘Aegiya,’ Baekhyun smiled, content with your reaction. ‘You’re so easy to mess with.’

‘No, I’m no-’ Your protest was interrupted by a quick kiss.

‘Yes, you are. The moment I lower my voice you turn into a cute little puddle,’ he stated with the most satisfied look on his face before nuzzling your neck. ‘You know what else turns you into a pool of hot mess?’

You whimpered, startled by the pressure of his fingers directly on your clit.

‘God, I missed you,’ he gritted, licking a stripe over your ribs and inhaling your scent.

‘Baek-’ You swallowed, latching onto his shoulder. ‘We can’t be loud here. The girls are on this floor, and what if someone-’

‘This is a five-star hotel, princess.’ He made sure to continue his descent despite your feeble protests.

‘It’s not completely sound-proof!’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll make it quick.’ He smirked, hooking the fabric of your panties with his thumb to get them out of the way.

Making it quick was worse. It meant he was going to go zero to one hundred in a snap of his dainty fingers, and you were in no way ready to handle it.

During the course of your rather new relationship, he’d managed to perfect his oral technique to such an extent that you had to literally refuse him the pleasures of the mouth whenever you were outside the privacy of your homes. It was just too risky. If someone was to hear you…

He tended to make your sessions extremely noisy.

‘Just relax. I know what I’m doing,’ he hummed before poking his tongue out and dragging it slowly over your slit.

‘Oh-’ You grabbed onto the duvet, and he did it again.

Not forgetting to slurp this time.

Biting hard on your lip, you tried to keep still. But even that didn’t help when his wet tongue flicked your engorged clit. You could see him already getting into it. His heavy-lidded eyes watched you through the blond strands, and his mouth opened wide as if he attempted to swallow your entire pussy.

You panted, trying to move away, but he held you securely in place by the hips.

Baekhyun’s breath became heavier and heavier, and the sound of it only made you go mad with the thrill. His tongue flattened out and he moved his head up and down to drag it over your core.

Just as you thought that this was bearable, he did the unexpected. He sucked your clit into his mouth harshly, coating the area with so much saliva you could feel it trickle down to your entrance.

‘A-ah!’ You flexed your abs and pressed at the back of his head, chasing the contact.

Instead of slowing down as he usually did, he continued increasing the intensity. His tongue ran up and down your core with urgency before his lips closed around your most sensitive spot again, sucking harshly and then breaking out into short licks.

‘Baek, stop- I can’t-’ You sobbed mid-sentence as he shook his head lightly, adding stimulation.

At this point, his own breathing was loud and labored, as if he was the one on the receiving end of this hustle.

But, as soon as your breaths became shallow and your muscles started to clench, he ripped himself away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘I just love bringing you to the edge,’ he admitted, licking his lips hungrily. ‘cause then I don’t have to spare your pussy.’

He slapped your vulva abruptly, and you yelped from the jarring sensation, sitting up.

‘Ride me, baby,’ Baekhyun said, dropping on his back as you got on top of him readily.

You wanted to get this over with. You needed him to finish what he’d started.

‘Shit.’ He cursed as soon as you brought your thighs down. ‘Go on.’

Swaying your hips, you focused on the friction against your walls. He always felt so good inside you.

‘Let me help you a little,’ he suggested, taking hold of your pelvis to aid you in your movements.

Leaning onto his chest with your palms, you went as hard as you could. And his thighs met yours, sounding a skin-to-skin slap upon every fleeting contact.

‘M-Baek,’ you whined, messing up the pace.

‘Don’t slow down,’ he demanded, fingers digging into your skin.

‘I can’t-’

He put his palm onto your back and prodded you to lean forward, gaining enough momentum to start pounding into you from below.

‘Fuck.’ He gritted, ignoring your uncontrollable moans and the lecherous noises from where your skin met his.

Baekhyun’s eyes never left your body, and he kept his tempo for as long as he could.

‘Fuck- Fuck!’ He suddenly growled, and you shrieked as you became undone.

‘B-Baekhyun,’ you cried out, held solid by his hands while his dick kept nailing you.

Thankfully, your boyfriend was quick to follow you and find his release. You whimpered as he shook briefly, letting out only a strained grunt to signify that he was finished for now.

He rolled you over to rest on top of your body, his entire weight pushing you down, and kissed you deeply. Both your and his breathing was hectic, but it didn’t hinder the interaction. Your fingers traced his prickly nape, while his tongue played with yours.

You laid like that for a bit before he scrambled off of you, finally letting you breathe properly.

‘I really did miss you.’

He smiled as you said that, and leaned in to press a playful kiss to your nose.

‘I know.’

You poked his cheek in embarrassment. He was a really affectionate boyfriend, and you loved that about him. It did make you a bit bashful though. Strangely, more so than your crazy sex marathons.

‘Thanks for flying all the way here just for me.’

‘It wasn’t just for you. I got a couple gigs here for the next few days,’ he shrugged, and then added. ‘I might’ve gotten those after I bought flight tickets, but sh-h! I can’t let it go to your head.’

‘Why not?’ You pouted, stroking his collarbone.

‘Aegiya, you already behave like a little princess, we don’t want it to get any worse, do we?’

‘Am I not your little princess?’ You narrowed your eyes at him.

‘You are,’ he sighed in defeat. ‘I guess, you win.’

‘What did I win?’ You chuckled, pecking him on the chin.

‘I don’t know. What would you like?’

The answer came with no hesitation.

‘You.’

‘That’s cute,’ he snickered. ‘You already have me.’

‘Hm. Then I don’t need anything else.’

‘Ugh. You don’t even have to call me oppa. I’m already melting like an ice-cream cone in a warm hand.’

You snorted at his words, and he gave you a long look.

‘I wonder what you pictured just now.’

‘Baekhyun!’

‘Alright, you don’t have to tell me.’ He agreed quickly, beaming at you shamelessly.

You shook your head.

‘It probably has something to do with my dick anyways.’

At this you kicked him lightly with your knee.

‘Ouch. Love hurts.’

~~~

You and Baekhyun stayed up super late (as per usual), talking about your time apart, teasing each other and bickering about pet names. So, when it was time for you to wake up and start getting ready… You decided to have some more beauty sleep.

However, after you ignored a bunch of ‘check-in’ morning messages from your members, the usual procedure was carried out – they sent one of their own to wake you up.

‘Eonni, are you up? We have to move out in an hour.’ Your maknae’s voice reached you through the layers of bedcovers and Baekhyun, who was practically wrapped around you.

Baekhyun.

Opening your eyes, you rose on the bed and rubbed your face to get ahold of reality.

‘Eo- eonni?’

The youngest of the group stood frozen in front of your bed, eyes open wide. Even with your brain barely shaken out of sleep, you realized what stunned her.

The blond man in your bed, who had his arm wrapped around you still, stirred from the noise and laid on his back, stretching out before opening his eyes. Your gaze fell on his exposed chest, and you quickly pulled the duvet up to cover the eloquent scratch you must’ve left on his pec yesterday.

‘What’s going on?’ He asked groggily, and the third person in the room finally broke out of her lethargic state.

‘S-sorry!’ She turned around and sprinted out of your room as if a demon was chasing her.

You called after her, but the click of the door locking announced that she was already gone.

‘Ah, dammit.’ You sighed, rubbing your pulsing temple.

Baekhyun’s hand squeezed your thigh to draw your attention.

‘Sorry. I overslept and one of the girls came to wake me up. Go back to sleep, I’ll deal with it.’ You caressed his cheek gently before turning away to get out of the bed.

‘What are you going to do?’

That was the question you had been asking yourself.

‘I’m not sure,’ you admitted. ‘That was our maknae, so… she’s probably told the entire group already. She is… easily excitable.’

‘Maybe you don’t have to do anything.’ He said, looking up at you.

‘Hm?’

‘Just tell them the truth. You’re not a rookie, no one’s going to kick you out of the group or whatever.’

You sighed. He was right, of course, but… You were scared. Admitting that to your group and management would make all of this official, and there’d be no turning back after that.

‘…or, you can just forget I said that. You don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to.’

He sounded neutral, yet somehow you knew he only made it seem like he wouldn’t be hurt in this scenario. Baekhyun truly was perfect in those few months you were together, so there was no reason for you to doubt his intentions. And you also liked him, a lot.

Maybe this morning was more of a blessing than a curse?

‘I’ll tell them. I’m tired of sneaking around anyways.’

‘Really? I found that quite exciting. Being your secret lover. Sneaking into your room through the window and all that.’

‘That never happened,’ you laughed.

‘It could’ve!’

‘Shut up,’ you pecked his smiling lips and picked up your phone.

Dozens of new messages in your group chat.

‘Y/N, if you’re not telling us who that ‘blond oppa’ in your bed was, we’re coming over to your room! We’re dying over here!!’

You read the last message out loud to Baekhyun.

‘That’s why I refuse to call you that. As soon as I introduce you to them, it’s going to be ‘Baekhyun oppa’ all the time. I like to be special.’

‘Gotcha,’ he snickered. ‘But princess, text them back before the whole intervention committee walks through that door. I’m not exactly wearing underwear.’

‘Oh crap, I better.’

Masterlist

A/N: This is it for now with our freshly domesticated bf Baek~ I hope you enjoyed it the ride so far!! Let me know in the comments/ asks and reblog if you liked it ❤️

#baekhyun smut #byun baekhyun smut #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun fanfics #exo smut #Snapshot #Giving Love a Shot #icequeenbae fics #kvanity #exowritersnet #bbh net #supermnet #baekhyun x reader #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun imagine #exo scenarios #superm scenarios #superm fics #bbh smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fic #photographer!baek

[spooo00oky]

Siren’s Spell

Chapter two.

Pairing: siren!Wooyoung x reader

Genre: fantasy, eventual smut, romance, fluff

Word Count: 11k+

Warnings: swearing, suggestive themes, Thalassophobia, assault (it’s brief but I’m putting it here just in case and it’s not Wooyoung), another cliff hanger (I have a thing for them I’m sorry), and more to come!

Author’s Note: Here is chapter 2! Life is going to be getting busy for me soon so it might be a little bit before chapter 3 comes out, but I hope you enjoy this chapter!

༄

Chapter II

I groaned softly as I awoke, immediately realizing just how sore I was. I don’t think the afterlife was supposed to be this painful, and the sudden rush of memories was enough to make my eyes shoot open. Wooyoung had tried to kill me, and I was definitely not in my apartment or even a hospital, that much was obvious by the unique decor of the room I was in. I bolted into a sitting position, the fuzzy blanket that had been carefully placed over me falling into my lap as I took in my surroundings. 

The room was made from a dark colored stone, not a material I was familiar with. It was polished smooth and gave the room a lavish feel to it, immediately making me feel out of place. Shell sconces hung in various points on the wall and gave the dimly lit room a warm glow despite there being no evidence of there being a flame within them. It had to be magic then, that was the only other explanation. Another very obvious detail I failed to notice was the lack of windows. It was a detail that’s so glaringly obvious now I don’t know how I missed it before. Was this a jail cell? I don’t know of many prisons that went out of their way to supply their inmates with beds as soft as clouds and furniture that looked like it belonged in a penthouse. 

“Oh you’re awake!” A familiar voice chirped from the doorway and I looked in time to get a lap full of siren, grunting from the force of the impact. I had half a thought to shove Wooyoung off of me, but my body locked up in fear instead. It made sense now of where I was, and who I was with, and just the severity of the situation. Wooyoung had dragged me below the river and trapped me in his home in an air pocket, and the only person who knew what happened was Logan, Logan of all people! Logan who would surely tell my grief stricken friends that his fucking nymph magic would save the day while Wooyoung ate me.

“You smell gross,” Wooyoung mumbles against my stomach before he’s raising himself to his elbows to look at me. “What’s wrong? Is it the decorations? I tried to find things that would fit your tastes but I can only do so much with what’s salvageable from the ship wrecks. You seem to like shiny and soft things so I took the shiny things from the ships and bought furniture from stores up top, even though it meant I had to have legs.” He shuddered. “Are there not enough soft things to your liking?” 

Now I was confused. In no part of the world did a predator make sure their prey was comfortable before devouring them, so why was Wooyoung looking at me like he was waiting for my validation? Did he like compliments on his interior design before a meal? 

“Wooyoung, aren’t you going to eat me?” I asked, my heart pounding in anticipation of his answer. Did I only have moments left to live now?

Wooyong’s grin was downright villainous as he leaned in closer to my face. I could smell the sea breeze wafting off of him by now. “I didn’t think you’d be ready for that kind of thing so early on in our relationship, but if you insist.” He laughed as I pushed him away, confusion evident on my face now. I should be relieved that this meant I was going to live, but I had more questions than answers. 

“What is going on, Wooyoung? Why am I here?” I asked, needing answers to prevent myself from spiraling.

Now it was Wooyoung’s turn to look confused, and a little concerned. He rested a reassuring hand on my leg and I hated the way it was grounding me at this moment. He was sitting up by now, facing me to look me in the eye better. 

“This is our den, we’re completing the mating process,” he slowly explained. He looked like he was going to say more on said process but stopped himself, seeing the shocked expression on my face no doubt. “I could smell your distress miles away and I had to stop the preparations to save you from that nymph; sorry that the den isn’t finished yet.”

I waved my hands in front of my face. I needed a second to collect myself. Mating process, since when? I’ve known Wooyoung for only a few weeks, and I barely knew him! I was only just thinking about how I didn’t even know how he supported himself financially or if he had to at all, and now he was talking about mating? “I think we skipped a couple of steps here, we’re barely even friends. When was there any discussion of us being mates?”

Wooyoung rose a brow. “There was an unspoken one when you accepted the courting gifts, but that’s normal for these kinds of things. My father was so shy while courting my mother that for the first few months he barely said a word. You did surprise me when you readily accepted it, I know sirens don’t have the best reputation on the surface.” He was looking at me like an expectant puppy, waiting for my response. He looked so eager that I almost felt bad for the way dread was flooding through me. When did I accept it? I had misread the act of giving me presents so horribly that now I had a whole mate to deal with now, and he was looking at me so adorably I felt awful that I was going to have to set things straight. 

I took a breath to steady my nerves. “Wooyoung, at exactly what point did I accept… this?” I asked, motioning at the air between us. 

“When you gave me the coffee. I was a little shocked when you went the traditional route with things, giving food was a bold move. I thought it was hot though, I love boldness in a mate,” he said with a cheeky smile. He began to scoot closer to me and I wrapped the blanket around myself, using it as a makeshift shield. Thankfully Wooyoung seemed to get the hint and he stopped his advance, looking at me with confusion. “You smell funny again.”

I was starting to dislike how easily he was able to read my emotions now. “How experienced are you with anything above sea level?” 

“Not really, I tend to stay away from you all. It’s not for lack of trying though, everyone above water avoids sirens for the most part. I was really happy when you decided to talk to me because I had been trying to talk to people for months.”

I ran a tired hand down my face. “Wooyoung, I think this is a horrible case of miscommunication on both parts,” I told him and immediately regretted it. The sudden sad look on his face told me everything I needed to know about how he felt when I broke the news to him. From what he’s told me he’s put in a lot of effort into courting me; from the gifts to creating a den for the two of us with my tastes in mind. Now that I truly thought about it, his gifts have been centered around what he thought I would like. They weren’t something he found and gave me to make me more appealing to his standards, they were thoughtful gifts with good intentions behind them. How had I made the mistake of thinking they were nothing more? I mentally scolded myself for that train of thought; we were both at fault here for not communicating better. 

“I don’t know much about your culture, so I mistook your gifts as ones of friendship. When we give gifts up top there isn’t always romantic intent behind them,” I explained. I was going to be as nice as possible while ripping off this band-aid. 

“But the coffee and the food! That has significant meaning, right? It means you’re willing to take care of me, to take care of me just as I would take care of you,” he argued, hurt evident in his eyes. 

I blushed in embarrassment. I could now see where he thought I had accepted the bond between us if that’s what gifting food meant in his culture. In hindsight, it made sense that he reacted the way he had. He didn’t just really like coffee, he had thought his feelings were finally being reciprocated. How did I mistake that for anything else? “Wooyoung I gave you the food because I felt bad for not getting you anything when you were giving me so much. It was all I could afford at the time and I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Oh.” His shoulders slumped and his hand dropped from my leg. He looked like a kicked puppy and I felt my heart clench at the sight. Had we just spoken more earlier we could have avoided all of this. “Then that means you don’t want to be with me. I’m sorry, I’ll take you back home, you must be terrified right now. That explains why you smell gross,” He slowly stood from the bed and took my hand, only to stop when I didn’t make a move to stand. He gave me a curious look. “Y/n?” 

“It’d be a lie if I said I didn’t think you were attractive,” I admitted. I didn’t take my eyes away from the bed, too embarrassed to look at him. This was dumb and stupid by all means. I could hear San and Mingi scolding me already but it wasn’t like Wooyoung was a threat to me. My own lack of a voice with strangers has done more harm than he has. “I think I’d be alright with staying for now. But!” I quickly cut Wooyoung off, who looked like he was about to start jumping at any second. He was patiently waiting for me to speak again, returning to his seat on the bed. “We need to take things slow and talk some things out.”

He nodded in understanding. “Anything you want.” With the way he was looking at me I was positive that if I asked for the moon he would find a way to get it to me. 

“We take things slow. By human standards I guess you could say that we’re still in the talking stage, so it’s a very new relationship,” I explained. “I don’t know that much about you and I’d like to know you more before things progress, if that’s fine with you?” 

Wooyoung nodded his understanding and a weight seemingly lifted from my chest. At least he was understanding of my feelings towards the situation. I’ve seen too many males take it as a personal attack if they get rejected in even the slightest of ways. 

“Am I still allowed to call you my mate?” He asked suddenly, and I thought about it for a minute. By his standards I had already returned his feelings and attempts to court me, and I could see where there could be some confusion in regards to what he would call me. We weren’t exactly friends, we’ve jumped too far ahead to go around calling each other just that. The title of “mate” didn’t evoke any negative reaction from me either, it wasn’t the act of mating. That was a different scenario, and I quickly pushed those thoughts away. 

“That’s fine, but nothing physical between us until we’re better situated with each other,” I stated, holding a finger up to him in warning. “And I’m allowed to still go to work every day like normal. I worked my ass off to get where I am in the label and I’m not going to give that up because you want me to stay home and do nothing.” 

I knew I’d get Wooyoung somewhere, and this is where he was going to try and argue with me. “But I can provide for you. It’s like my job,” he said, his brows furrowing. “You don’t need to work again if I provide a home and the essentials.” 

“It’s not about providing the essentials when it comes to my job, it’s a sense of pride and accomplishment that I made it that far in a company where humans are a minority,” I stated. I wasn’t going to back down on this one, not seeing my friends everyday or what I’ve accomplished. 

I could practically see the gears turning in Wooyoung’s head on how to get this to work in his favor even a little bit. He had said anything and I took that to heart. Finally he seemed to come to a decision before he crossed his arms over his chest and steeled his expression. “Fine. You get to keep working but you come back here every night. I’ll take you to and from the surface.” 

Now it was my turn to pout. I hadn’t expected him to demand something like that, I wasn’t expecting to get a new roommate. He knew that he had me too, judging by the smug look on his face. When it came to negotiations I’d learn not to underestimate Wooyoung again. “I spent all this time preparing this den for us. I'm not letting it go to waste.”

I sighed. “Fine. I get to keep working if it means I sleep here from now on, and we keep our hands to ourselves until we know each other better, and you’re allowed to call me your mate. Is there anything else?” 

“What if I’m a naturally physically affectionate person?” He asked with a smirk and I narrowed my eyes at him. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “What? I’m only stating facts! I’ll try my hardest to keep my hands to myself but I can’t guarantee I won't try to hold your hand.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll allow it then, but no kissing please.”

“That I can promise I won’t do. I’ll wait until you’re begging to kiss me first before I give you what you want,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me. This was going to be a long night. Day? What time even was it? 

“What time is it?” I voiced my thoughts, struggling to remember if I had woken up before this. How long was I asleep for? It could’ve only been a few hours at most. 

“It’s eleven o’clock on September nineteenth,” he told me as he stood from the bed and began to head towards the doorway. 

My breath caught in my throat when he said the date. The nineteenth? It was the seventeenth when Wooyoung brought me down here, have I really been asleep for two days? Guilt flooded through me at the sudden thought that San, Mingi, and Belle were no doubt worried out of their minds. With all of the sudden kidnappings happening around the city they probably thought I had ended up as a victim. 

“Dinner’s almost done!” Wooyoung called out from beyond the room and curiosity and the need for answers got the better of me. I crawled out of the bed and was pleasantly surprised to find that the stone floors weren’t that cold. Was it magic, or a natural phenomenon? 

“Wooyoung, where exactly is this place?” I asked as I walked out of the room and stopped short at the room before me. It was far bigger than I was anticipating, and not a cave like I had also been anticipating. It looked like a room out of a castle, stone walls and beautiful light fixtures that looked like they were from a different world hung on the walls. The furniture was unique as well, some of the pieces were familiar, others were definitely not of this era, and others were completely foreign. Strings of shiny rocks and gems hung from the lights and walls as well. This was obviously Wooyoung’s attempt at making the den more to my liking, he guessed I liked shiny things from the courting gifts no doubt. 

The ceiling caught my attention next, or lack thereof. Instead there was a gaping hole, and lights flickered in the inky darkness above me like stars of the night sky. It hit me the next moment that the lights were moving; they were fish and other creatures swimming around. I was entirely in their domain now. I cowered back towards the room as a set of glowing dots neared the hole and I met the gaze of something that shouldn’t exist at a size that large before it went on its way. I was made aware of the fact that no one truly knows what lives down in these waters as a deep rumble echoed through the room, no doubt belonging to the unknown creature. 

“Don’t worry, I made a barrier so nothing can enter through it.” My attention was drawn back to Wooyoung who was standing in what I realized was the kitchen, a counter and a wood burning stove as well as cabinets evident in the area. He was holding two steaming bowls as he walked towards a dining table with varying styled chairs as I slowly made my way towards him, glancing up at the darkness above in case that creature decided to come back. “She was probably curious because we moved in so suddenly. She wouldn’t try anything, she can smell what I am even from here. To answer your earlier question, by your standards we’re underneath the bridge I rescued you at, just miles and miles beneath it.”

I nodded at his response, being miles beneath the Brighbalt was something 

I had already gathered. I took a seat at the table, pleasantly surprised by how soft the chair was. Wooyoung really had put a lot of thought into the furnishings here. How he knew I liked softer materials was beyond me. I thought back to when he pointed out the color of my earrings. Had he made that guess based on the material of the clothes I wore? 

Wooyoung set the bowl down in front of me before he took his seat across from me. The smell wafted up and it was enough to make my mouth water. My stomach growled. He didn’t make a move to eat though, his dark eyes on me instead. I knew what he was waiting for, remembering the second day of courting gifts, and I picked up my spoon and I ate a spoonful of soup. I hummed at the savory flavor of it, and I smiled up at him as he awaited my reaction. “It’s really good. I didn’t know you could cook.” 

Wooyoung beamed with pride as he began to eat his meal now. “All males are taught how to cook from a young age. It’s seen as unbecoming if one doesn’t cook for their mate,” he further explained at my confused look. I nodded in understanding before I began to eat more. 

“What would you have done if I said I didn’t like it?” 

“I wouldn’t have eaten until I made you something you liked.”

The spoon stopped halfway to my mouth. I stared at him until he stopped eating to raise a brow at me. “Is that part of how you were raised or a you thing?” Thank god I hadn’t jokingly said I hated it or else he truly would’ve scrapped it and started over again. 

Wooyoung smirked before taking another spoonful of soup. “Partially it’s how I was raised but also it's part of my morals,” he told me after he swallowed. “My father would do this with my mother and it stuck with me. It’s an old custom that sirens have and some of the younger generation have given up on it, but I see the meaning behind it so whenever I’ve cooked for my family if one of them didn’t like it I’d cook until we found something they did.”

I nodded in understanding. “You mentioned your family. Do you have any siblings?” This was a safe topic. This was easier to handle than mates and moving in with a siren that I barely knew. It was strangely domestic but I wasn’t complaining. It was a welcomed reprieve from the rush that was not even an hour ago when I awoke. 

“I have an older brother and a younger brother.” 

“Makes sense. I always had a feeling you were a middle child.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, pouting now. I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up to the surface, the expression on him was adorable. When I looked back up at him he was smiling at me with an expression I couldn’t read. I cleared my throat and turned back to my soup. I needed an excuse to look away. I looked back up at the ceiling, seeing the moving shapes of the creatures above us. Thankfully they all seemed far away this time. 

“Is the barrier magic?” 

He nodded. “It keeps everything out while also acting as a filtration system so we’ll never run out of air. This was the smallest hole I could find in any of the old ruins down here. I know you said you had a fear of water and I figured seeing everything would be too much for you, so here we are.”

I gave him a small smile. “I appreciate the thought. I don’t think I’ll be spending a lot of time out here just yet though, the thought of looking at the water and seeing something staring back is terrifying.” 

“You didn’t say that when you met me that first day though,”’ he said, smirking. 

“You’re right I didn’t say it. I was thinking about it though.” 

“Admit it, you have been intrigued by me since you first saw me. I could see the way you were checking me out even after you bumped into that gorgon.” 

“I thought you were a homeless guy on a dock,” I shrugged before finishing my soup. I was fighting back a grin as he sputtered for a solid minute before he settled on glaring at me from across the table. I grinned teasingly at him before taking my bowl and putting it into what I assumed was a sink made up of a large shell. “So you’ll take me up to the surface tomorrow?” 

Wooyoung sighed and brought his bowl over to the sink as well, setting it in the sink before turning to me. “Yes I’ll take you up to the surface again, even if it’s against my better judgment.”

“Why are you so against me going back up?”

“One, I can provide you with everything you could ever want and need down here where I know you’re safe. Two, that nymph can’t get you down here. Three, I don’t think you want to see a pissy siren when they’re separated from their mate for too long. So you come back down here every night and everyone’s happy.” 

I raised a brow. “Did a bond form between us or something that I don’t know about?” I knew some mated pairs could become so intertwined that they would sometimes pick up on each other’s emotions. When these bonds are formed if the mated pair separates from each other for too long, they may become aggressive to those around them. Were sirens similar in that regard? Has Wooyoung been feeling everything I’ve felt from the start? The thought of it was enough to make my cheeks burn in embarrassment. 

“Not a bond as in I can read your mind or anything, but a bond between mates. I’ve already started to become protective of you if that’s what you’re wondering. The thought of another male near you sets me on edge. Knowing you come back home to our den helps me not do something I’d regret later,” he explained. “You won’t feel the same intense emotions as I do because of your human blood.”

I released a breath of relief. “Thank god I thought you were feeling everything I was feeling from the start.” 

Wooyoung smirked before he took a step towards me, crowding me against the counter, both of his arms coming to either side of my waist. My breath caught in my throat and I looked up at him with wide eyes. He had a mischievous glint in his eye as his head lowered down to mine, close enough for our noses to brush. “Why would that be a problem? Got something to hide from me?” 

My face burned as I stammered and struggled to come up with something sarcastic in response. I couldn’t even blame it on his powers, Wooyoung just knew how to fluster me with his presence alone. He knew it too, the smug smirk was evidence enough. I’m sure he could hear my heart pounding in my chest as well, enhanced hearing not needed. It was that loud. I was running the risk of my legs giving out beneath me when he leaned in towards my neck and I felt his breath as he sniffed at the skin there. “You smell so good right now.” 

“I’d like to shower!” I nearly shouted. I began to push him away from me and it felt like I could breathe again. I didn’t even want to think about what he had picked up in my scent at that moment. “I’m going to shower before heading to bed.” I pushed past him back to the room and his laughter followed after me. I had just begun to rummage through the dresser in the room when I felt his presence behind me. “I said I’m going to go shower.”

“Oh I know. I’m just here to show you where everything is all,” he said with faux innocence. I shot him a look and his smile only grew in response. I grabbed a pair of pants and a shirt that were very obviously his before I stood from the dresser. I motioned for him to lead the way and he snickered at my expression before leading me to an archway on the other side of the room, and I was glad to see that this room had a ceiling. It was just as lavishly decorated as the rest of the den was with gems and pearls hanging from the lights and the ceiling, with a pool of water residing in the center of it all. Steam wafted from the surface and I must have had a look on my face because Wooyoung began explaining. “There’s a volcanic vent nearby and the warm water moves through here, so we have heated bath water. Magical barriers on the holes so you don’t take a bath with an uninvited guest.”

“I appreciate it,” I said as I set the clothes down by the side of the pool. Wooyoung moved around the room and pulled one of the fluffiest towels I’ve ever seen out of a cabinet as well as jars full of an unknown liquid. 

“Shampoo, conditioner, and soap are all here for you,” he pointed out, setting the jars down by the pool before standing. “Don’t take too long or else I might be tempted to join you.”

I rolled my eyes. “In your dreams.” 

“Dreams can become a reality you know,” he said with a wink before he was leaving the room. 

I waited until I was sure he was gone before I stripped and dunked myself beneath the waves of the pool. I was quick about it in case he decided to come back, but there was no sign of him returning. I let the warm water relax me then, loosening up the tension in my body. My eyes slipped shut momentarily and I let my mind not think for some time. I have been through a lot today. A moment of silence was needed.

I began to wash my hair and body after a few minutes, the soap being a brand from the surface I was familiar with but had never used. The familiar brand was comforting and I was reminded that despite the flirting and the teasing Wooyoung did have my best interests at heart. Everything done to the den had me kept in mind down to the very soap I cleaned myself with. Maybe this could work out after all. Maybe I could learn to accept Wooyoung’s feelings fully. 

I finished my bath quickly and got dressed, the clothes hanging off of my frame and I had to tie the waistband of the pants to prevent them from falling to my ankles. I made my way back to the bedroom to see Wooyoung laying in the bed and I realized something very quickly. There was only one bed. Wooyoung took up most of it as well, the sheer size of him really standing out on the mattress. 

He looked up at my entrance and he grinned at my hesitation. A low rumble reached my ears and I realized that it was coming from him. “I promise I’ll behave myself. No sexual advances.”

I sighed and made my way over to the bed and crawled beneath the covers. I kept as much room as I could between Wooyoung and I and he made no attempt to close that distance, which I was grateful for. The lights dimmed in the room once I had settled, and it was completely pitch black. No lights from the streets below peeking through the blinds, nothing. It was unnerving, but not as much as the sounds that echoed around us. Just because we were going to sleep didn’t mean the other sea creatures got the memo, and all sorts of ghastly and terrifying sounds could be heard. I kept tossing and turning but each new sound brought a fresh wave of fear with it. There was no way I was going to sleep, and I was probably annoying Wooyoung with my constant movements. Hell, he probably smelled my fear right now. 

There was a sigh and suddenly I was being grabbed and dragged across the sheets. I squeaked at the sudden movement before I settled against Wooyoung’s chest, a deep rumbling felt beneath my fingertips. Was he purring? “It’s not sexual, it's because you’re annoying with your movements,” he said. I would’ve snapped something back but suddenly my limbs feel heavy, my eyes drooping. I didn’t even register the voice until another note rang out and I realized that Wooyoung was singing. His voice was unlike any other I’ve heard before and it made my thoughts slow and my body release all tension. It was a struggle to keep my eyes open, but I eventually succumbed to his powers and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. 

༄

I awoke the next morning feeling better rested than I have in a while. The sounds of utensils scraping against plates reached my ears and I sat up in bed, smelling the food in the next moment. My stomach rumbled and I hurried to the kitchen. Wooyoung was at the wood burning stove, something sizzling on the pan before him. He looked up when he heard my steps and grinned. 

“Good morning sleeping beauty,” he greeted before he turned back to the stove to finish cooking breakfast. “I’m almost done. Do you mind setting the table?”

I hummed in confirmation before I moved to the cabinets. The first few I tried weren’t the right ones and it wasn’t until Wooyoung pointed out the right one that I found them. I grabbed the plates and utensils and set the table just as Wooyoung brought the pan over and set the food on my plate first and then his. Cinnamon greeted my nose and I was delighted to see French toast on my plate. “I figured a familiar recipe would be a good choice for today,” he told me before he put the pan in the sink. “You seemed pretty stressed last night so this will be a mice start to the day.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it. Everything really,” I said, beginning to cut into the food. Memories from last night flashed through my mind and I knew what Wooyoung had done to get me to rest before we went back to the surface. I also knew the laws surrounding his powers, and had he done that with witnesses he would’ve been banished from the city.  He had used them on me though to make me fall asleep, and I appreciated it greatly. A trip back to the surface wouldn’t be happening if I felt like a zombie from lack of sleep. 

Wooyoung hummed as he waited for me to eat, watching as I cut into the food. “I’m glad I could help. Even if it meant the nearby creatures were cursing my existence because of it.” He winked to show that he was only teasing and I chuckled at the idea of the surrounding sea creatures all suddenly falling asleep in the water. 

“Last night you mentioned that that creature could smell you even from here. Do sirens get along with other beings down here?” I asked as I began to eat as well. The food was just as good as last night. Wooyoung was proving himself to be quite the skilled chef. I’d have to make it a point to ask if he had learned a trick or two from someone on the surface, the idea of French toast being a local delicacy down here was a little too far fetched in my mind. 

He chuckled. “No. That’s one of the things you have in common with the beings down here. People up top and beings down here aren’t much of a fan of my kind and tend to stay away from us; they’re all so afraid of our voices it’s almost comical. They act like it’s the only weapon we have.” He smiled and I was reminded of just how sharp those teeth were. Wooyoung acted civil but he always managed to remind me of the other things his diet consisted of. 

I should be more afraid of him, but if he truly meant me harm he had plenty of opportunities from the very first time I met him to act on any urges. He has only done things with my well being in mind though, so the fear of what he is and what he could do hasn’t crossed my mind. Plus there was the whole “mate” thing to consider and your mate not returning your feelings seemed counter productive. 

I hummed in acknowledgment of what he told me, focused on finishing my meal so I could finish preparing myself for the day. I hadn’t even thought of what I would tell the others. What could I say? You know that siren I had briefly mentioned before I disappeared? Apparently it’s a big misunderstanding between us and I was unknowingly accepting courting gifts and he might've kidnapped me under the impression that I was in trouble and needing help. Also I might somewhat be his mate but we’re still hashing things out. I could see that going over perfectly. 

“Once we’re back home tonight I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.” 

I snapped back to reality and looked at him with wide eyes. Me? Meeting another siren already? I was only just coming to terms with Wooyoung’s presence but now I was already meeting a friend of his? Not even mentioning how shy I was around new people. When I first joined the designer label I was near silent everyday. Mingi and San didn’t give me much choice in the matter of friendship though. It’s only because of them that I opened up as quickly as I did with the others there. 

He noticed my expression and he chuckled. “He’s been my friend for ages and I’d appreciate it if he had the chance to meet you first before the rest of my friends. Plus I think you’d like him. You both have some things in common.”

I sighed, my shoulders slumping in defeat. It was only a matter of time after all, might as well get the first one done and over with. Maybe Wooyoung’s friend could become a friend of mine while I was down here as well if we managed to hit it off. Another familiar face down here that wasn’t a giant monster staring at me from the hole in the ceiling would be nice. I just hope they were as nice and accepting of my human status as Wooyoung was. 

“Fine, I’ll meet him. Hope you’re correct that we might have some things in common. I’m shy enough as is and I don’t think I’ll have the energy to try and act perky and excited after work.” 

“I’m sure you guys will find a common ground, don't worry. He’s on the quiet side too,” Wooyoung explained before he rose from the table and took our empty plates to the sink to wash them. “Go finish getting ready or you might actually be late.” 

That was enough to get me moving. I headed towards the bathroom and freshened up using an ancient sink that had to be original to the ruin that now made up our den before moving to the bedroom again. I dug around in the dresser and quickly realized that the only clothes in here were Wooyoung’s. I shouldn’t be surprised, there was no way for him to get any of my clothes to bring back here. I grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from the drawer with a small frown. I quickly got dressed, tying the waistband of the pants again, before heading out to the dining area again. 

This time Wooyoung was nowhere to be seen and I almost called out for him when a splash rang out nearby. Instinctively I looked towards the ceiling in case something had managed to pass through the barrier, but I only saw the glowing forms of fish and other creatures. My gaze turned towards an archway next to the kitchen that I hadn’t been through yet and I walked towards it. The inside of this room was decorated much the same as the rest of the den except there was a pool of water in the center of it that was surely not the same one as the one in the bathroom. A pool in which Wooyoung was floating on his back in, his black tail gently moving to keep him afloat. He looked over when he heard me approach before diving into the dark water. He reappeared at the edge of it with a smirk, resting his head on his arms. 

“Ready to get going?” 

I nodded, my palms already getting clammy with what I was going to have to do. There was only one exit after all. 

I sat down on the ledge and dunked my feet into the water, shivering at the temperature before I slowly lowered myself the rest of the way in. Wooyoung kept a comforting hand on my arm as I did so, offering me silent reassurance. He no doubt smelled my fear. Once I was fully submerged I waded in the water until Wooyoung pulled me closer to his chest. His warmth seeped into me as he looked at me to judge how I was doing. I gave a small nod of my head, his presence relaxing me more than I cared to admit at this moment. 

“You’re going to want to close your eyes until we reach the surface, and hold your breath. Obviously,” he added with a wink and I rolled my eyes. His attempt to distract me worked only a little bit. 

“I can’t hold my breath for that long though. You said we’re miles beneath the Brighbalt.”

“We are, and I just happen to be a very fast swimmer. I got you here without you dying didn’t I?”

He had a point. 

I gave one last apprehensive look at the water around me before I tucked my head into his chest and took a deep breath. Wooyoung sank beneath the surface and I nearly gasped at the sudden change in temperature. It wasn't as extreme as I had been anticipating and I remembered the mention of a volcanic vent nearby. I didn’t dwell on the thought for long before I felt Wooyoung begin to move, and I tucked my head further into his chest. I hoped that a monster didn’t decide to try its luck with Wooyoung on the way up.

༄

I took in lungfuls of air as soon as we surfaced, the sun a welcome sight after not seeing it for a few days. Wooyoung and I definitely drew some attention to ourselves at our sudden entrance but thankfully everyone went back to their own things. Wooyoung shook out his long hair, splashing me in the face with water while doing so. I grimaced and lightly pushed against his chest so I could climb on to the nearby dock. He seemed to understand what I was trying to do and in the next moment I felt his hands supporting my legs as I climbed up the ladder and sat on the edge of the dock. I took a moment to catch my breath, smiling down at him as he watched me carefully. “That wasn’t so bad.” 

Wooyoung nodded in agreement. “I told you I was a fast swimmer. I might’ve also been moving faster because I know you don’t like to be in the water for too long.” 

“I appreciate it,” I laughed breathlessly. The tension was slowly easing from my body with the comfort of solid ground beneath me again. I never thought I’d come to appreciate the feeling of wood beneath my hands and the feeling of sunlight as much as I did right now. “What are you going to do while I’m gone today?” 

Wooyoung shrugged as he rested his arms on my legs. “Most likely finishing the den. I never did get to finish it before I had to come rescue you, and I’d like it to be done before my friend comes to meet you so he doesn’t think I truly kidnapped you and I’m making you suffer.” 

I snorted. “It’s best if you’re honest with him though. We did start living with each other due to a miscommunication on both ends.”

Wooyoung groaned and hid his face in my legs. “He’s never going to let me hear the end of it.” 

I was starting to like this friend of Wooyoung’s and I hadn’t even met him yet. Anyone who was able to get this kind of reaction from him because they were going to tease him to no end was good in my book. 

I patted his head and he pulled away from me so I could stand. He waved his hand and my soaked clothes instantly became dry and he unknowingly answered a few questions on how the furniture in our den was bone dry. I was envious of those who possessed magic for moments like this.

He eyed my outfit for a moment, a pleased smile slowly curling his lips upwards as he eyed me up. I felt my cheeks tint pink at the look in his eye. It only worsened when I heard the purr rumble from his chest and I nearly squirmed as I tried to bring his attention to my eyes again. He caught my gaze and warmth spread in my abdomen at the heat that was in his eyes. “As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, and having my scent on you, we might need to stop and get you some clothes that actually fit you. Sweatpants and a t-shirt don’t seem appropriate for where you’re going.”

I nodded in agreement. “It’s not the best fit but it’ll do for today. Belle will understand.”

Wooyoung hummed as he scanned my form again and I waved goodbye to draw his attention again. “I’ll run by my apartment after work to grab some clothes and then meet you at our spot.”

He smiled and nodded, a glint in his eye that I didn’t have time to try and decipher. “Sounds good, I’lll see you then.” I waved once again as his head disappeared beneath the water before I turned and began to head towards the office building. 

I definitely got some looks as I walked into the building with nothing but sweatpants and a t-shirt on, I was barefoot for crying out loud! It was a miracle that security wasn’t called to escort me out. I was glad I had taken my earlier advice of having a spare pair of sneakers in my office, I at least had something to wear for shoes. I never made it far to my office before I was being tackled into a bear hug. The wind was nearly knocked out of me as the person hugging me squeezed like their life depended on it. I recognized Mingi’s cologne. 

“I missed you too, Mingi,” I said with a strained giggle. My words seemed to bring him back to the present and he released the death grip he had on me. He held me at arm’s length, his eyes wide and searching, as if he had to make sure it was really me. I grinned up at him and he was pulling me back into a hug, a breath of relief slipping past his lips. 

“We thought you were gone for good.”

Tears pricked my eyes at the raw emotion in his voice. They had all been so worried for me, while I had been alive the entire time but unable to tell them of my whereabouts. With the other missing person reports still out there it was no wonder that they thought I was dead. I rubbed a soothing hand down his back, reassuring him of my presence. “I’m here and I’m fine I promise.”

“Where were you? What happened?” He asked, pulling away far enough to look me in the eye. 

“It’s a long story actually-“

Another body collided with my form and this time I stumbled and hit the ground. A large hand prevented my head from colliding with the ground, and I became aware of the feeling of a tail wrapping around my leg. The shock of being tackled again wore off and I laughed as San nuzzled his head into my neck. I would pat his head but he had my arms pinned to my sides. “Hi Sannie.” 

“Don’t you ever do that to us again,” he growled. I felt the rumbles against my chest and I realized I could see the tips of his wings peeking over his shoulders. He had actually flown as soon as he saw me and I felt my heart swell at the thought that he didn’t care that others saw his wings because he was so relieved to see me again. Guilt rolled through me for worrying them so much. “Where the hell were you?”

“I was about to explain that actually before you tackled me. We can head to my office and I’ll explain everything once we get there. I need shoes,” I stated, wiggling my bare toes for emphasis. 

San squeezed me a little tighter before he let go, helping to my feet again. I felt his barbed tail wrap around my arm as we walked to my office. I didn’t complain though, I could understand the need to know that I was actually here. 

Belle met us at my office, her blue eyes looking glassy as she pulled me into a hug. I nearly shed a few tears of my own knowing just how loved and cherished I truly was here. Belle’s hug was nothing but warmth before she was letting me go and following us into my office. She deserved to hear this story just as much as the rest of them. She had grown to be a motherly figure to me and her reaction to my disappearance only solidified the fact that in her eyes she had thought she had lost a child. 

I sat in my chair as everyone took a seat. I reached beneath my desk and found the pair of sneakers tucked away and slid them on, cringing at the lack of socks. I sat up again and regarded everyone with a smile. “Much better. Does everyone know about the siren I met?” 

The morning was spent explaining everything to the three of them, from meeting Wooyoung to the courting gifts to being taken by him from the bridge to his home beneath the river to the fact that we were mates in a way now. Mingi had nearly exploded from the mention of the siren, ranting about how he knew “the fish” was involved because his scent was all over me. I had the distant thought that Wooyoung would be smug that other males could smell him on me but I reminded Mingi that it was a matter of miscommunication from the both of us. He settled down after that, but that dark look was still prevalent on his face. 

Belle softly mentioned that Logan never even thought to come and tell us that something had happened. That made me sigh. Of course he would’ve been of no help in the matter. “I thought he would’ve at least said something to you all, even if it was that he’d save me with his magic. I’m sorry that I didn’t come back sooner, I was unconscious for a few days while down there.”

“You have no reason to apologize, it wasn’t even your fault. It’s that siren’s fault,” San grumbled before he was suddenly standing. He stormed from the room and I followed after him in a hurry. 

“San, where are you going?” I called out, struggling for a moment to catch up with his long strides. 

“I’m going to give that bastard a piece of my mind! It’s not right to kidnap people!” San said like it was obvious. My eyes widened and I grabbed onto his hand to get him to stop. San only dragged me as he kept heading towards the main lobby. 

“Sannie, he thought I was in trouble! He could smell my stress from the den and he came running! He was only doing what he thought was right to protect his mate,” I tried reasoning with him. 

“Don’t try to defend him, y/n,” San growled. We had finally reached the main lobby and San suddenly stopped walking. I nearly ran into him before I was peeking around his tense body to see the reason for the abrupt stop. 

Wooyoung was standing there, his own body tense as he stared down the demon in front of me. The shock of seeing him here made me pause for a moment before the realization that he and San looked like they wanted to kill each other fully processed. I quickly stepped towards him and the closer I got the more the muscles in his body seemed to relax. Wooyoung said that there wasn’t a bond between us that allowed us to feel the emotions of the other or read each other’s thoughts but I was familiar with the inner workings of a freshly bonded pair. I would never feel the exact emotions Wooyoung did due to my human blood but I knew only anger and possessiveness ran through him now at the sight of me with another male. 

“Wooyoung, what are you doing here? How did you find me?” Our spot on the river was out of sight of the building, there’s no way he would’ve been able to see where I was heading to. I stepped to his side to try and diffuse the situation and it seemed to work. His eyes focused on me and softened the slightest bit. 

“I followed your scent.” He said it like it was obvious before he was holding out a paper bag I only just realized he was holding. I took it and the smell of food hit my nose. “I realized you didn’t have lunch and I thought I’d bring you some.” 

“You didn’t have to, I could've gotten one myself,” I told him, a small smile curling my lips at the gesture. 

“I wanted to though.”

Movement out of the corner of my eye reminded me that we had an audience. I looked away from Wooyoung to see San and Mingi practically glowering at him, San’s tail lashing against the ground in agitation. Belle looked worriedly between the three males, clearly unsure if she needed to step in or not. I didn’t give her a chance to do so. 

“San, Mingi, Belle, this is Wooyoung.” I was hesitant to actually call him my mate just yet, so I left it at that. “Wooyoung, this is my boss Belle and my friends San and Mingi.” 

“You kidnapped her!” Mingi suddenly snapped and I sighed. This was going to be harder than I thought. 

Wooyoung growled in annoyance. “I rescued her from that nymph that keeps bothering her.” 

“Your definition of ‘rescuing’ is flawed if you think that’s what you did.” 

“Alright enough!” I said, stepping between everyone. Everyone’s focus shifted to me and I huffed in irritation. “Could Wooyoung and I have done all of this better? Definitely but in that moment he did what he thought was best for my safety. I was stressed because I was going to tell Logan to leave me alone and he picked up on that. What’s done is done and we can’t change that. I’m here now, safe and sound, so we can all relax because Wooyoung isn’t going away anytime soon.”

San and Mingi turned their attention back to Wooyoung and he stared right back. I gave Belle a pleading look and she shook her head at me, just as lost as I was in this situation. I had managed to prevent it from escalating into an all out fight, so I was counting that as a win. I wasn’t expecting them to suddenly shake hands and become friends but I was hoping for a truce for my sake. 

Finally San sighed and his shoulders slumped. “Fine. We’ll back off for now.” He gave Wooyoung a sharp look. “Don’t do something like that again without at least notifying us. We’re the closest thing she has to a family in the city and we thought she was dead.” 

Wooyoung nodded his understanding. “She’s safe with me, I can promise you that.”

The tension was still there but it had greatly lessened. I let my own shoulders sag in relief and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Alright! Now that everyone has met we can get back to work! I’ll see you at our spot once I finish at my apartment Wooyoung.” 

He nodded as he turned away from the pair of males to look back at me, his gaze soft as he smiled. “Be safe alright? I’ll see you in a few hours.” He gave me one last look before he walked out of the building. 

I waved after him before I turned to my friends again only to find them all staring at me. I gave them a tense smile and gestured to the direction that Wooyoung had left in. “So that’s Wooyoung.” 

Mingi crossed his arms over his chest. “He has a lot of work to do if he wants our approval.” 

I groaned. “I’m sure he’ll be around a lot more so he’ll have plenty of opportunities to do so.”

“So you’re living with him then?” Belle asked. Belle only looked at me with concern, which I would always be grateful for. 

“I am. He gets huffy if he isn’t around me for long periods of time. It’s the same as any other bonded pair.”

“There’s no mark though,” Mingi pointed out. 

My hand instinctively went to my neck. I had seen many bonded pairs sporting the claiming marks while I was in the city, but I wasn’t sure if sirens were the same in that sense. Another of the many questions I still had for Wooyoung. “We’re taking things slow and he’s respecting my boundaries. Also I’m not sure if they do that sort of thing.”

San sighed softly. He gave me a concerned look before he pulled me into a hug again. “Just please be safe. You let us know if he tries anything even in the slightest.” 

I relaxed in his holds and wrapped my arms around his waist. They all could be overbearing when it came to things like this, but it was because they had my best interests at heart. “I will, don’t worry. Wooyoung doesn’t seem like the type anyway.”

San pulled away and gave me a smile before he was heading back to his office as well. Mingi gave me a look and I understood the message behind it before he was heading off as well. Belle smiled and took my hand before leading me towards the elevator. She was already discussing my design with me and it lifted a weight off of my chest. 

The rest of the day went by as it normally did which I was thankful for. Belle and I finalized my design and picked out fabrics and accessories, and Mingi and San stopped by a few more times to drop things off or give their opinion on things. It felt like any other day did and it brought a sense of normalcy to me. It felt like I had never left in the first place and I wasn’t going to have to leave again after this day. 

“Are you excited for the show? I just received confirmation that your cousin was attending,” she said with a glint in her eye. She grinned when I rolled my eyes. 

“Hongjoong always come to the shows I’m in. It’s not a surprise anymore Belle.”

“I know but I think it’s sweet. I know how much you look up to him as well.”

That was only half of it. Hongjoong was the whole reason why I was in the fashion industry. He had joined it first, quickly becoming well known in the industry. It wasn’t a shocker that I followed in his footsteps. We’ve been close since we were children and it carried into adulthood. No matter how busy his schedule he always managed to make time to come and see my designs on the runway. I wasn’t able to make it to all of his shows, but I saw a few from time to time. I don’t know what he would think of my relationship with Wooyoung. 

The rest of the day passed in a happy blur and soon enough it was time for me to go. I waved goodbye to everyone before promising that I would be back tomorrow morning. It didn’t stop them from giving me a hug on the way out the door. 

I didn’t want to keep Wooyoung waiting at our spot for long in case he became antsy so I nearly jogged to my apartment. Grateful that I remembered to bring my keys, I unlocked my door and sighed at the familiar sight of my home. I’d have to leave my keys behind at some point, as well as the due rent, but that would come after I moved the rest of my stuff. For now I settled for a duffle bag full of clothes that would get me through the rest of the week at work. I also grabbed a few pairs of pajamas so I didn’t wipe Wooyoung out of his clothes completely. I grabbed a few essentials after that, such as bras, underwear and toiletries before I left and locked the door behind me. 

The streets were more crowded than they usually were tonight, the night air alive with laughter and music and singing. The streets and sidewalks were nearly clogged with people. I had to push past people just to get through the crowds. After a period of nearly shoving people to the side I finally spotted Wooyoung with his head resting on his arms on the dock, looking at the people with narrowed eyes. With the large groups of people it had taken me longer than anticipated to get back to our spot, but I broke out in a smile when I saw him waiting for me. It was almost like when we first met, and I began to hurry my way over to him. Only I didn’t make it that far. 

My body collided with a solid form and I grunted from the impact, landing flat on my butt. I hadn’t seen the group of people cutting in front of me in my rush to get to the dock and had toppled one of them over. He got to his feet again and glared at me with amber eyes; a wolf shifter. He didn’t give me a chance to get back to my feet before he was grabbing me by the arm and hauling me up. I cried out in pain, trying to wrench my arm free but it was useless. The rest of his group sneered down at me and I’ve never felt so small in my life. 

“What do you think you’re doing, running into me like that?” he growled out, tightening his hold on me when I tried to pull away again. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m just trying to meet a friend,” I said. My heart was pounding at this point and I knew they all could hear it. I needed to get to Wooyoung and fast before this escalated any further. It was a miracle I managed to speak as evenly as I did. 

The male laughed and dragged me closer, truly putting me in between him and all of his friends now. I pushed against one of them and he pushed back harder, tossing me into another body. I was being tossed around like a toy and I struggled against each set of hands that touched me. “I don’t think you’re really sorry, are you. I think you need to make it up to us in another way. To show us you really mean it.” 

Terror gripped me and I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe. There was a lump in my throat that felt like it was choking me and tears pricked my eyes as I struggled to get away from them. I only heard their mocking laugh as I continued to struggle before a snarl rang out through the air. Everyone suddenly parted as a figure rapidly approached and suddenly the man in front of me was dangling in the air by the collar of his shirt. He looked just as I was to see Wooyoung holding him up, pure fury burning in his eyes as he glowered at the male. 

Wooyoung truly looked like he was going to kill the male he was holding, the rest of them slowly backing away from me at the sudden appearance of the siren. Wooyoung glanced down at me then, and I sucked in a sharp breath when I saw it.

I subtly shook my head, urging him to not do what he was about to do. Of course it would be a gut reaction to use all weapons he could to dispose of any threat to his mate. It was pure instinct telling him to use his voice on the male, regardless of any laws that forbade him from doing so. There were too many witnesses though, too many spectators of what was unfolding right now that there was no way for him to not be thrown behind bars or worse. It wasn’t just me and him and me struggling to sleep. There were so many people watching us. 

Wooyoung understood and I relaxed knowing that we were safe from trouble with law enforcement. That fire still burned in his eyes however. 

He tossed the male in his hand away like he was nothing more than a toy, and the male scrambled to get farther away from us. The majority of his friends had already scattered with only a few stragglers and I watched with wide eyes as Wooyoung stalked closer to the male. He truly looked terrifying in this moment, and I would be scared if I wasn’t relieved that help had arrived. 

“Run,” was all Wooyoung said, no magic needed for the remaining males in the area to all turn tail and bolt. The surrounding spectators watched on curiously, waiting to see what the male would do next. 

Wooyoung only turned to me, his gaze much softer than it had been seconds ago but there were still embers burning in his gaze. He gently but firmly grabbed my arm and began to lead me towards our spot, and I followed along without any complaint. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, looking me over to confirm with his eyes that I was fine. 

I nodded. “I’m fine. I’m just shaken up is all.”

He hummed. “Good or else I might’ve had to kill them.”

I don’t doubt his words. 

We reached the dock and he lowered himself into the water. A pair of pants landed on the dock next to me and I kept my gaze upwards as the shirt quickly joined it in the pile. I waited until his hands were on my waist and he was helping me into the water to look down, the sight of black scales greeting me. My grip on his shoulders tightened as he lowered me into the water, panic flashing through me. He gave me a reassuring squeeze as I settled against his chest, smelling the fear. He gazed at me until I began to squirm in his hold, becoming self conscious under his gaze as he continued to stare. 

“Did you have a good day?” His sudden question brought my eyes back up to his. He seemed to be less tense the further we got away from everyone, but I could tell he was still upset over what had happened earlier by the tenseness in his jaw. 

I hummed. “I did have a good day up until recently. It’s still a good day though.” 

It was Wooyoung’s turn to hum as he watched me still. He paused and I could practically see the gears turning in his mind. After a few moments he seemed to come to a decision and he smiled down at me and I knew it wouldn’t be anything good from the smile alone. 

“I’m glad. Because you’re not leaving the den again.”

༄

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

#atz #jung wooyoung #ateez x reader #spooky’s fic #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x y/n #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez wooyoung

[dearheartdont]

Before It Felt Like a Sin

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Category: M/M Fandom: Bodies (TV 2023) Relationships: Henry Ashe/Alfred Hillinghead Henry Ashe/Original Male Character(s) Characters: Henry Ashe Alfred Hillinghead Original Characters Summary: Henry Ashe character study.

Tonight, in the drowsy silence, Alfred turns in Henry’s arms and asks, “When did you first know?” The light of the candle sconce haloes his hair in gold.

Henry says, “That I was as I am? It’s a long tale.”

"I would like to hear it,” Alfred replies and settles his head on Henry’s chest.

#henry ashe #alfred hillinghead #bodies netflix #bodies 2023 #bodies fanfic #my fic #henry ashe x alfred hillinghead

[sundays-sims]

M O C H I  x  SimspirationBuilds. (patreon - beachfront tier, early access)

Happy September my lovelies! Here's another fun collaboration with my dear @simspirationbuilds for this month. We decided to bring you guys a super cute but modern bubble tea lounge! My set contains 25 new meshes, including a chic (but so damn cute) sitting area with velvet booths & armchairs, velvet deco panels, chic dining chairs & even 2 versions of a stool (that works as a chair but also has slots for objects and can be used as a side table, yay!). Along those pieces, you will also find a bunch of cute clutter items like cakes, cupcakes, macarons, bubble tea, chai tea etc! (more details below↓)

Even though this is a pretty big set on its own, you guys gotta check out SimspirationBuilds Bubble Tea Lounge (aka Mochi!) set as well. You can do so here: [X] (patreon, early access).

I hope you guys like it & still enjoy the collabs, it's super inspiring for me to get to brainstorm & create with SimspirationBuilds, she is just amazing! Happy simming to all!

↓ details & download link under the cut ↓

D O W N L O A D  L I N K : [X] (patreon, early access)

 S E T   D E T A I L S :

autumn spices cupcake – 1 swatch

blueberry mousse cake – 6 swatches

booth seats (2 versions) – 13 swatches

bubble milk tea – 2 swatches

cupcake & chai latte – 6 swatches

dining chair – 13 swatches

dining table – 13 swatches

display tray – 7 swatches

living chair – 13 swatches

macarons – 10 swatches

menu display – 7 swatches

paper bag (with & without logo) – 30 swatches

pendant light (3 heights) – 12 swatches

side table – 23 swatches

standing display label – 5 swatches

stool/side table v1 – 13 swatches

stool/side table v2 – 13 swatches

tea & coffee glass bottle – 9 swatches

velvet deco wall panel (version I, II & III) – 13 swatches

wall sconce light – 13 swatches

** mochi will be released (free) on September 21st** 

→ terms of use / TOU ←

#sims 4 #ts4 #ts4cc #ts4 cc download

[madllamamomma]

The Visitor~ Part 9!!

Chapter 9~

The Letter & The Sleeping Beauty ~

[WARNING: My content is for a mature audience 18+ please. Some scenes include acts of violence and abuse.]

[.....After the last chapter of Journey Back To The South]

____(Three months earlier)___

Back in Charles, in the cold mansion of Remington Martin Alarie III, where he sits in his study with a large roaring fire with Beatrix, his badger familiar sits cozily on his lap. The snow is gently falling down to the icy ground. And the Archmagister had just received a long awaited news. It was from ‘The Young Lady Alarie’. He hadn’t heard from her in nearly fifteen years. As the letter opens in mid air, Martin stands to his feet, Beatrix crawls up the back of the chair with her head tilted as he disregards the tattered envelope and eagerly reads its contents. 

In an instant, the small amount of brightness in his face falls as he continues to read and stands to his feet. Confused, he shakes his head and quickly goes to the next page. “This…. this is just a copy of a damn death certificate dated from over four years ago and some… deed?….. I don’t know a peasant woman named Rhemi.... Who would—” Words then die in his throat as he turns to the next page. All of the color in his face starts to drain as he sees the next page with a single phrase on it. 

“We’re all flying with the birds now…. Farewell, Père. —Your Little Pigeon”

Martin’s arms suddenly fall limp to his sides, dropping the letter and the two certificates along with it and they flutter to the ground. Bartholomew tilts his head about to pick up the papers from the ground. “M-Master?…. Are you alrig—?”

“—Get out…” Martin whimpers under his breath, his lifeless eyes blankly staring off into the marble fireplace as his mind stitches the pieces together.

Bartholomew freezes half crouched reaching out for the letter and confusingly replies, “....M-Monsieur?—”

Martin’s pale white face quickly flashes into a red hot hue as his voice crescendos from a faint mutter into a terrible roaring scream. “I…. said….. GET…. OUT!!!!” Grabbing the small table next to his chair, he swings it over his head with two of its legs—BAAMMM!!! CRACK!!! THUD!—

Bartholomew quickly ducks down, protectively covering his head, dazed as the solid wood furniture smashes against the wall into hundreds of pieces. With the sudden violent outburst, Beatrix makes a startled chattering hissing noise as she darts under the chair. “—NOW!!!! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT, YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING PIECE OF GODDAMN PIG SHIT!!!!” Martin screams with all his might.

The servant hastily sprints out the door, nearly struck by a heavy flying silver candelabra and pulls the door handle shut. Before he can, Beatrix squeezes herself through the crack in fear of being trapped inside, narrowly escaping this blind rage and scurries off down the hallway growling and snarling that almost sounded like a child crying.

Inside the doors, with a guttural grunt, Martin snatches up the book he was reading and slams it into the fireplace. The fire roars as the book's seams smolder and even starts to pop and hiss loudly from the oily pages burning. Pacing his study like a lion in a tiny cage, Martin then searches for what he could destroy. His face blood red and a million thoughts race through his skull. Rhemi Niamh. Niamh??…. That’s a goddamn Travelish surname. “My daughter. A noble child. DIED TAKING ON A FUCKING DIRTY TRAVELISH NAME???”

—SMASSH!!!

“SHE DIED A FUCKING LOWLY COMMONER?!”—RRRRRIIIIIIIPPP!!! 

“IN VESUVIA OF ALL FUCKING PLACES? WHY DID IT HAVE IT BE FUCKING VESUVIA??!” —CLANK-CLANK-CLANK!!!— “I HATE VESUVIA!!! AND SHE FUCKING DIED IN THAT FILTHY PLACE?! JUST LIKE THE OTHER FILTH THAT LIVES THERE?!” —BOOM!!!! KIR-CLANK!!!

Bit by bit, he rips apart the chamber, breaking apart all of the fancy furniture, smashing once prizes foreign porcelain vases, tearing down the satin currents, denting very carefully crafted gold and silver sconces. He even shifts his hands into sharp talon like claws with his magic, digging them into the wall leaving huge gashes and fraying the fashionable dark green wallpaper. Turning his attention towards another stationary victim, he rips up the canvas of a large expensive painting of the mountainous countryside that hangs on the wall; Screaming with such hate and rage like a rabid animal. With his breath shallow and heavy, he stands in the middle of his study, still not yet satisfied as his magic courses through his hot blooded body. Conjuring his energy in his hands, he throws them both up above his head then swifty throws them down again, throwing dozens of heavy books from a wall of shelves, making them rain down to the carpeted floor and quaking the entire chateau. He repeats this over and over again until the shelves are bare and empty like the feeling in his chest. Once there are no more books, he paces in circles, ripping clumps of his plum gray hair out, kicking up some of the loose pages scattered across the ground as he screams at the top of his lungs. His magic swirls violently all around him and manifests it into metallic spikes, shredding the carpet, the walls, the doors, the books and their pages. Ribbons of paper flurry down like the frigid snowy blizzard outside. 

“THAT….. FUCKING WHORE!!! HOW DARE SHE STEAL MY CHILD FROM ME!!!!” 

Behind the door, the servants darn not enter nor even check on the master. They do however keep close to his chamber quietly murmur with one another, shocked at the severity of this episode. The Archmagister has had fits of violence and rage before, but nothing quite close to this. Carefully, Bartholomew awaits a foot or so away from the door in fear of being accidentally impaled or maimed.

Back inside, nearly exhausted, Martin doubles over catching his breath in his now fatigued lungs. Heaving furiously as sweat drips from his forehead, temples, and nose, his face blood red, vessels billowing up, veiny and bulged. A flash of gold catches his eye and he glances up, wiping away the sweat with his forearm as he sees a rouge painting he missed near the doors hidden behind a dusty white linen sheet. 

Realizing that he had one more good thing left to destroy, he storms over with teeth gnashing and claws out, ready to obliterate it. Ripping the cloth off the wall with a hateful sounding grunt, his clawed taloned hands digging into the thick gold-leaf wooden frame, teeth grinding so hard it is painful, ready to tear the artwork into tiny pieces as four familiar faces stare back at him. 

Suddenly, he stops dead in his tracks, his eyes finally scan the painting... completely unaware what was hanging there all these years, covered up. Forgotten. 

A portrait.

Florence, Rhemielia, and himself in this very room with a young scrawny Beatrix draped across his shoulders and a large fire roaring in the background. It was the last painting of his family before they were taken away. All the anger seemingly dissipates, giving away to the harsh sorrow he was so desperately running away from. 

No longer having the nerve, his sharp claws retract back and he smooths the frayed edges wishing he never touched it. He quietly shifts into his normal hands as he delicately releases the frame that has minimal damage, slowly taking a single step back. The portrait took up a good portion of the wall; his eyes scan up and down multiple times, studying the artwork as he finally catches his breath. Taking in every paint stroke, every color, every single detail that he hasn’t seen in such a long time. Rhemielia and Florence’s faces were perfectly rendered, matching nearly how he remembered them, give or take a few minor details he asked the artist to change. And as he looked at himself, he remembered how happy he was here, even though you’d never have known with his stoic expression. This one was actually one of his favorite pieces he had ever commissioned. He and his wife wore their best jewels, his favorite dress which was the latest fashion at the time. Little Rhemielia was so pretty in her light blush dress embroidered with delicate white lace and blue flower embellishments. She looked so much like her mother here…. No. She looked like Mairead… His sister. Those eyes. Those large red doe eyes…. Even with them, Rhemiliea was simply beautiful. His only child. A large wave of regret washed over him, wishing he’d never made the artist paint them a chestnut brown to match her mother’s. He used to hate seeing them so much, they just reminded him of dirty Travelish blood. Yet at this very moment, he would give anything to gaze into her deep shade of burgundy irises again. He then recalls how they would gleam in the sunlight and look like two large rubies. And for that moment, a tiny second, he thought they were just lovely despite his better judgment. 

Slowly, Martin turns away, no longer able to look at the ghosts that stare back at him. He covers mouth with his scarred burnt right hand, dampening a hard hiccup, and presses his spine against the same wall as the portrait. Finding himself rather exhausted, he surveys the damage and chaos he had created. As he looks all around to his once prized possessions with the bits of paper and dust still swirling all around him. It’s a goddamn mess. The room felt so large with nothing on the walls and for the first time since he was a young, he felt so microscopic and puny in his own environment. Unexpectedly, an overwhelming painful surge strikes his chest. The chaotic magic that swirled around starts to settle down and feels now like drizzly heavy rain before completely retreating back to his body. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he can’t stop himself from choking up, unable to remember the last time he had wept. Helplessly incapable of containing his tears as they stream down his face. Sluggishly, he slides down the wall, pushing back his disheveled plum and gray hair from his face, his knees drawn up into his torso like he did when he was a child. Just like when he lost his mother when he was but a boy… just like he did when he found Mairead hanging from her neck from a tree branch in the woods all those years ago.

The very seemingly proud and arrogant man sits there, weeping his heart out on the floor, mourning the loss of his only daughter. With a trembling hand, he pulled out a tiny pink pearl bracelet he keeps in his interior vest pocket that laid over his heart, clutching it tightly to his chest. Rhemielia always wore it, he gave it to her on her ninth birthday after traveling to the salty seas during a business for the king, he was promoted to the Chamberlain and wanted his daughter to have the finest things in life. She loved that bracelet, she never took it off, yet this precious trinket of hers was left behind that dreadful day she was taken. He found it amongst the rubble of his home and all these years he took it with him everywhere he went.

 “... Pigeon… My little Pigeon..... No…… not my child, oh, gods….. not my baby... Why?..... Why did you have to take her from me, Phara?—You stupid cunt.......” His fist clutches the small trinket and he closes his eyes tightly. “...Oh god…. my little girl is dead….” The pain in his chest. This agony.... This pain is unbearable.

Outside the door, Bartholomew finds himself taken aback as he hears his Master’s sobering mutters. The man has worked for the Archmagister for a long time, ten years to be exact. Over the years, he watched him drown himself in diplomatic work, took on an apprentice, and kept himself very busy. All these accomplishments, the riches he gathered, the titles he gained, one would think it would make anyone a little happy, and yet he always seemed to be joyless. Personally, Bartholomew had never met his master’s wife nor his daughter, many of the servants quit or never came back after the infamous fire. No one really knows why or knows what exactly happened either, only rumors and far fetched conspiracies with little to no weight behind them. Not many others knew them either, it was said that Sir Martin barely took his child to court, when he did he’d cover her face with a white vail and her mother kept her glued to her side. It was thought she was rather frail and ill and possibly unsightly. His commoner wife was always relentlessly bullied and slowly withdrew from attending social gatherings the last few years she was with him. 

Martin rarely spoke of either of them. And the servants knew better than to ever bring them up or ask of them. The last maid who entered the child’s old room to dust it was punished severely and made an example out of… The seldom times Martin did speak of them, his icy cold demeanor melted slightly, his face would soften, and his eyes even brightened. He would always say that they were both like rays of sunlight in the middle of a hurricane. “They always brighten the darkest of places with their light.”

Bartholomew knew that his master had been searching for his wife and daughter for a long time. Everyone in Charlès knew the tragic tale of the Archmagister’s wife and daughter being kidnapped by a Throthian woman named Phara who was once Rhemielia’s private tutor. The woman had to be very powerful to leave the King’s Magician in such a dire state. Nearly fifteen years have passed, the rest of the court had given up and even forgotten about it all some time ago, but he never stopped searching… Traveling far and wide, sending letters to various kingdoms, regions, and city states offering a very large reward for their safe return. So when this long awaited news came, Bartholomew hoped it would give Martin some kind of solace. But he was wrong. Very. Very. Wrong.

Bartholomew had believed Master Martin was incapable of feeling anything other than annoyance and pride. He was a tough man to work for. Harsh, demanding, cold, but as the butler continued to press his ear to the door, he realized in that moment he was human too.

This man behind this door was indeed just that. A man. A man with feelings and emotions…. A man in tremendous pain…. Worst of all, this man was alone. 

Bartholomew finally peels his ear away from the mahogany door and his heart unexpectedly ached. As he turns back around, he sees most of the servants staring at him eager for the good gossiping material. “Unbelievable..” He murmurs under his breath “...Nothing to see here…. get back to your duties.” He hushly mutters shooing them along. They all quickly glance at one another, still standing there stupidly like a herd of sheep. “Well—Go on!!” He quietly snaps. “...Give him some dignity. This is obviously a private matter for the gods’ sake!” Finally, one by one, they all go back to their duties leaving the hall barren once more. Now alone, Bartholomew slowly traveled down the hallway to fetch his master a bottle of expensive brandy and to draw him a hot bath.

As he enters the cold damp cellars, he can’t help but think about his own family. He also has a daughter, three in fact, along with a young son. His eldest is close to the late Rhemielia’s age and is married and pregnant with his first grandchild. He was proud of them, loved them dearly, they could be annoying and bicker with one another, but his wife and his children mean the world to him. The thought of losing any of them…well… He just couldn’t bear it… He at least had people to come home to. Other than the paid help, Sir Martin lived in this large chateau solely and with his familiar. It’s a beautiful home. Made up of the many rooms and the lavish architecture, many gardens and lush green lawns, it is the envy of many people even in the court. But to Barthelmew, he knew otherwise… This place was a pretty ornate but empty box with a velvet cushion inside. It's beautiful but it was devoid of anything precious to protect. What's the point of a pretty box with nothing to hold in it?

There’s no such thing as a wealthy servant, but being the butler for a high official and the king’s right hand man was still a very modest living compared to others in this city. It kept his family well fed and he was able to save up for a decent dowry for his daughters so they could marry well and so his son could have a higher education. That’s rare here in this country. He didn’t absolutely adore his master, but he did seem to be one of the few people who could at least tolerate him. He may not care for him like some servants care for the family they serve, but he could respect the man’s talents and ambitions. None of these titles were given at birth, he earned them all. So in turn he couldn’t help but be sympathetic towards him as well. After all…. How could you not pity a man who had fought for everything he owned and yet had everything taken from him at the same time.

“I wonder…..” Bartholomew muttered to himself as he carried a sealed bottle of brandy and a goblet back to his master’s study. 

“…Is this what true self sabotage looks like?”

_________(Present day after part 8)_________

Marching towards the wharf, his forehead and nose still trickling blood, the Archmagister makes his way to his ship too furious to feel all his injuries. Tears reaming his eyes as he reaches into his breast pocket he clutches the small pearl bracelet and he chokes them down.

Suddenly a large dark ball of fur scurried up the wharf catching up with him. Silently, Beatrix follows behind him sensing that things didn’t go well, and that her master was completely distraught.

As Martin finally approaches the port, the Charlès guards snap up into formations and more make their way up the dock that holds their vessel. All the men on deck stand to attention when they see the King’s magician headed their way, but all of them taken aback at his disheveled state. As news catches like fire among the men, the captain hurries from his private quarters to meet him at the ramp half dressed in his uniform from his ‘company’, blindsighted by this interruption. 

“Monsieur, Alarie.” The captain says with a quick salute. Noticing the blood, the capitan’s eyes widen as Martin keeps walking towards his chambers, and he quickly offers him a white handkerchief. “Your Excellency, you-you’re bleeding… What… What happened to–”

Snatching the handkerchief out of the captain’s hand, he finally stops and snaps it open while snarling, “—None of your concern, Captain.” As he presses the linen to the cut making his skin sting and wipes away the blood. Pushing through his shutter, Martin continues his orders, still rather cooly sounding, pretending as if nothing had happened. However it was clear with his body language and the cadence in his words he obviously still had a very short fuse. “...Tell your men to fetch Bartholomew and my things immediately from the palace. Then we are to set sail for the Southern Colony.”

Confused, the captain shakes his head looking towards his first mate. “But, Monsieur—The final trade meeting is tomorrow. The king had direct orders to complete negotiations with the western trade route. We’re not due to leave until–GAAAAH!!!”

Suddenly a rope from the mainsail flies over and curls around the Captain's neck, stopping him mid sentence and lifting him a foot off the deck and Martin’s hand swirling with a metallic-like magic.

“…I said. We. Are. To. Set. Sail.” Martin hisses quietly through his tight jaw and nostrils flared staring into the capitan’s eyes as some of the small blood vessels break and he grasps for the rope. “Do I appear to be the kind of man who likes to repeat myself, Captain?” The first mate stands terrified, unsure what to do as he glances between his captain and the Archmagister.

Martin leans in even closer to the poor choking man with a small eerie demeaning smile as the rope tightens around his neck. “When I say we are leaving for the Southern Colony, you are going to weigh anchor and sail to the Southern fucking Colony. And if you don’t… I will find someone who will… Do I make myself clear, Captain?”

Unable to talk let alone breath, the captain nods his head in desperation while holding the rope with his hands so the weight of his body doesn’t break his neck.

“... Good,” Martin exhales and relaxes slightly and flicks his wrist. The rope finally goes limp and frees the man’s throat. As he gasps for air on the wooden plants deck, Martin stares him down and leans into his face whispering. “Never. Ever. Question me again, Captain. It would do you good to remember that you are expendable.”

“O-....Oui, A-Archmaigster, Sir.” Absolutely terrified, the Captain replies raspily, still clenching his now rope burned neck. 

“Splendid…” Rolling his eyes at the poor sight, Martin straightens himself up and tosses back his now bloody handkerchief down back to the captain. “...Get the fuck up. You look pathetic wriggling about in front of your men.” 

Struggling to his feet, the first mate and other crewmen come swarming to his side and aid him until he gains his footing. “I’m fine! Leave me be!” He snaps with a strain in his voice as he stares loathingly towards the Archmagister unable to retaliate as collects himself. “We set sail in an hour…”

The first mate nods his head and reluctantly shouts, “Réveillez l'équipage! Nous devons appareiller dans une heure!” 

Martin angrily trundles over towards his quarters, slamming the door shut with his magic as Beatrix barely makes it inside and hides in the corner. He then snaps his fingers igniting all the lamps and illuminates his rather large seafaring courtiers. All the while he pulls out papers from his side pocket that he was mailed three months ago and sits at his large ornate desk, shuffling through them until he finds the one he was looking for. As he reads the paper carefully, he combs through it over three times and nods his head to himself. Without a single doubt in his mind, an eerie confident smile takes over his face, cooling his fury. As a satisfied chuckle finally leaves his lips he reaches for the wine sitting in the corner of his desk, pops the cork with his thumb and takes a long swig straight out of the bottle as he stares at the paper with malicious intrigue.

“... I will have you back, Pigeon.”

______________________________

Muriel presses his ear up to Rhemi’s limp chest, he can still hear her heart beating, and she’s very quietly breathing. But she's just too still after just being completely hysterical only a few brief moments ago. “Rhemi….. Rem! Wake up!!..... RHEMI!” Gently, he tries to shake her, but she doesn’t open her eyes. “.....Please wake up, beautiful…. Please….” Tears just stream down his face. She…. looks… like she's dead….

Asra places his hand on Muriel’s shoulder making him start a bit. “...She’s just passed out. It’s ok, Muri. It’s happened before. She used all her magic again.”

Reluctantly Muriel nods his head and quickly wipes away the tears. He’s witnessed her pass out before…. but not quite like this. Something about it made him terrified. It’s like she just… shut down. Mentally and physically shut down. Tenderly he scoops her into his large arms and takes her to the nearby couch on the opposite side of the room, being careful of all the glass littered on the floor while Asra fetches a cool damp washcloth to place on her forehead. 

The hermit doesn’t leave her side, sitting beside her on the wooden floor, petting her hair comfortingly and watches her chest rise and fall very slowly. Somehow she still looks like she's in great deal of pain.

Asra takes one look around the shop and huffs. It’s a fucking mess…. Potions, ingredients, powders, elixirs, everywhere– Luckily, the counter was able to be fixed with a quick spell, but the rest of the shop wasn’t as fortunate. In the chaos, all the glass and their contents mixed together, rendering them completely useless. Not only that, but the stairs are even damaged and they’ll need a carpenter to fix some of the steps. With a heavy sign and a flick of his wrist, he summons two brooms and a dustpan to start cleaning up the mess. Slowly, the floor started to look a little better with each sweep.

Taking a little break, he glances over to the couch where she continues to lay motionless. He knew Rhemi to have a lot of raw magical abilities before…. but never has she demonstrated something to this degree. His ears still partly ring after that ungodly sound she made. He never really has been frightened of her powers, but the anger and pain in her was so overwhelming, he was foolish to not be a little wary. 

The small coo-coo clock bell chimed. An hour has now passed, yet Rhemi hasn’t even made a slight stir other than a few sleepy jolts.

Muriel tries shaking her awake a little more, but still nothing. Both Muriel and Asra’s anxieties grow a bit more. Asra starts to pace a little and Faust slithers over to the couch and curls up around her right hand as if to hug her. “...Sleepy?” 

“I… I don’t know, Faust.” Asra murmurs, watching as Muriel runs his finger through her brownish-red hair. 

Asra places his hands over his hip and glances back at the clock again, it’s now a quarter after the hour, and he’s had just about enough of this. “I’m going to get Ilya.” Asra finally says. Muriel stays silent as he gently strokes his fiancée’s cheek with his thumb. She usually leans into his touch, even when asleep, but still there is nothing. “...Muri?” Asra whispers, placing his hand comfortingly on his friend’s broad left shoulder.

Finally, Muriel turns with a sharp inhale, his eyes still red, puffy, and wet as he nods firmly patting Asra’s draped hand and mumbles, “...Go.” 

Without even taking his coat or hat, Asra rushes out the door and races straight towards the doctor’s clinic. Julian isn’t all that far away, just down the street. But tonight, it feels like miles and miles away, and his stomach starts to turn the further away he is from his best friends. What is gonna happen to her? What if she doesn’t wake up? What will Muriel do? What will I do?? At last, he gets to the door and unceremoniously bursts right in without knocking. “—ILYA!” He shouts.

Julian jumps from his desk in the corner from his journal and is a bit surprised at his lover’s urgency. “Asra, dear, er, w-what ever is the—”

“It’s Rhemi!”

“R-..Rhemi??.... What? What’s wrong?? Did–Did something happen?? Is she hurt?!” He jumps to his feet automatically grabbing a bag throwing a few things in, knowing that something was terribly wrong. “Asra! Tell me!!!” He demands, doctor mode fully kicking in. 

Poor Asra being so disheveled, he rubs his forehead trying to think straight. “I-I… I don’t know! She…. just….. passed out!”

“But… doesn’t she do that all the time–?” Julian replies without looking up from packing.

“–Yes! Yes! I know! But this time she isn’t waking up—It’s been over an hour already!”

Julian keeps asking questions as he hastily zips around the clinic tossing things he thinks he’ll need in his bag, including a few of his trusty leeches. “—Is she breathing??”

“Yes. Muriel has been glued to her side, making sure she is.”

“Her pupils?? Are they dilated?”

“I… Shit—I didn’t check!”

“How is her heart beat?” 

“Fine, I—I think…. Muriel didn’t say anything about it—It’s like she’s asleep, but she won’t wake up! No matter what we do!”

Julian pauses for a moment thinking to himself. “Hmmmmm….. Odd....” He shakes his head and hands Asra his bag while he throws on his jacket.

“Odd… odd?? What do you mean, odd??? Can you help her or not, Ilya??”

After strapping on his eyepatch and donning his gloves, Julian finally sees this distought nature of his lover and he cups his face tenderly, soothing him instantly. “Asra, darling. I’ll be alright… I’m going to do what I can. Okay?”

A few tears roll down the magician's face and he nods cupping the doctor’s wrists. “I know….. Sorry…”

Taking back the bag from Asra with one hand, Julain grabs his hand with the other and then they both sprint back to the shop without another word. Having Ilya there by Asra’s side made him feel grounded in a way, he felt stronger, even braver. Julian had been studying a lot for over a year. He’s not the same hack leech obsessed plague doctor he used to be. Asra squeezes his hand a little tighter as they arrive back to the shop.

As they both enter, Julian takes a quick gander around confused at the mostly empty shelves that are always filled with glass bottles and ingredients, then sees the visible cracks in the front counter. What in the name of the gods happened here?? He ponders to himself, but decides at this very moment that it isn’t important and brushes it off for the time being. Muriel still clung to Rhemi’s side where Asra left them close by her side. 

Julian rips off his jacket, rolls up his sleeves, then opens his bag, pulling out a small looking brass horn of some kind, he then carefully pats Muriel on the shoulder. “... Hey, big fella…. I need to evaluate her.” Muriel takes in a deep breath, then glances up at him. Julian has never seen the poor guy like this before. His eyes are pleading, looking so helpless, ‘help her’. Julian gives him a very serious determined nod and Muriel then stands up and moves aside.

Asra takes his hand and surprisingly Muriel squeezes back. “It’s gonna be okay, Muri.” His eyes meet his tall friend’s, he can tell that he is not at all convinced, but he nods anyway.

Julian sits on his knees and gets quickly to work. He doff one of his gloves and touches her cheek with the back of his hand. He then takes the damp washcloth from her forehead and places his full palm on it. “..Ahhh.. Well, no fever. But that doesn't explain why she’s sweating...” He mutters.

He then takes the small horn placing the wider part of the bell on her chest and puts his ear towards the small part. He stays there for a moment and moves it a few times while listening for something. Finally, Julian sits back up, removing the horn. “..Er....Her heart rhythm and lungs sound fine….” He takes her radial pulse from her wrist and watches the clock for almost half a minute. “Her pulse is a little slow…. Did she vomit or anything?... Convulse?” He asks half turning his neck so Muriel and Asra can hear him. 

“N- No. She just…. stopped…. moving….” Asra answers. 

“...It was like she collapsed.” Muriel mutters.

“That's interesting….” Julian mumbled to himself, examining her up and down, thinking. He then opens her right eye to look at her pupils but then is shocked by what he finds. “Wooh–That's….. very… er…. interesting….”

“What?? What’s wrong???” Muriel quickly moves back closer, terror in his voice. 

“Well...ah.... you two come take a look at this.” He waves them over and the two lean over him to look down at her with anticipation. 

“What is it?? Do you know what’s wrong with her??” Muriel asks desperately.

“Well… no. Not quite yet… but look.” Julian says, opening her right eye again, as it darts back and forth rapidly.

“She’s….. she’s dreaming?” Muriel mutters. 

“Looks to be that way. What exactly happened before she fainted??” Muriel and Asra’s face twist slightly and they exchange angry looks, feeling the exact same hate. “Well?? Wh-what happened???” Julian shrugs feeling completely left out.

“Her father…..” Muriel finally answers, shaking his head, feeling furious all over again and rubs his freshly cut up and bruised knuckles. 

“... Martin?? What about that old jerk?” Julain sneers, it seems that everyone feels the same about that man.

“... Asra found an old portrait of her mother and her Aunt…. And well….” Muriel trails off for a moment unsure how to say the next part. “....Apparently Athena—Rhemi’s Aunt who owned the shop—Well .... Apparently she wasn’t her aunt after all….. Her real name was Phara or something? Or it was? I don’t really know…. But from what I gathered, when they lived in Charlès, Rem’s mother had an affair with her… then they all three ran away to Vesuvia. Apparently they all changed their names when they came here.”

 “... They all lied about it…. Rem never told me the truth…” Asra adds still taking all of this in as well. “... Why didn’t she tell me back then?”

“Maybe…” Muriel starts to say as he tucks a stray hair behind her ear, thinking about how Rhemi was back then. “... She didn’t know how to? If you think about it, they were all wanted by Charlés.” 

“Oh….. oh my….” Julain replies, scratching his scalp. “That’s….. ahhhh…. hmmm. A lot to, er, unpack there.....”  

Muriel opens and closes his mouth a few times, before being able to get out the words, he’s so angry and upset at the same time and it makes it difficult to make sense. “He….he told Rem that Athena or… Phara, I guess it was—brainwashed her mother and convinced her to take Rhemi with her… Forced both of them to come here… Kept saying she didn’t belong here…That she didn’t belong with…. me….He saying such awful things…. Then she… she started to have this horrible migraine. She was crying, she was in pain.... She was in so much pain…” Muriel eyes water up again but he chokes them down. “She begged him to stop… But that fucking bastard didn’t even care! He just went on and on and on, saying these awful things…”

“We tried to stop him, but he made a barrier with his magic…. We couldn’t get to her…” Asra fills in.

“T-.... Then he…. he fuckin’ picked her up by her hair ....” Muriel says slowly, shaking his head. 

Tears overwhelm the hermit and he presses his lips together tightly, still shaking his head and Asra pats his arm. “It’s alright, Muri. We did everything we could.”

“.... He…. What?!” Julian’s expression goes from shock to pure rage as the information sinks in and he stands to his feet, whipping his head around searching for the dickbag who claimed to be her loving long lost father. “Where’s the fucker now?!”

“Gone…” Muriel barks, staring hard and cold at the wooden floorboards, part of him wishing he decked that fucker in the face for hurting his soon-to-be wife. “...Rhemi kneed him, got him to let go— then she made this…. terrible screech…. It broke the barrier, along with all of the other things in the shop.” 

“....We pushed him out, and surprisingly he just… left down the street. Then she passed out soon after that…. I feel like he gave up too easily.” Asra says feeling a bad pit in his stomach.

Julain then pulls a small vile from his bag and pops it open. The sharp smell of ammonia filled the air and the three of them blinked from the strong odor as he waved it carefully by her face. Even with the smelling salts she moved uncomfortably, but did not wake. Asra and Muriel quickly met one another’s eyes in disbelief. That should have worked. 

Frustrated, Julian puts the cork back on the small bottle and stands back to his feet and faces the Asra and Muriel. He shakes his head while running his fingers through his thick curly red hair staring at his shoes, poundering to himself. “Hmmmmmm…. Well…ahhh… Medically…. I can’t find anything wrong with her….but… healthy people don’t just fall asleep and don’t wake back up like this… but then again, most people don’t come back from the grave either. Our Rhemi is rather…. An anomaly for a lack of a better word. So maybe her illness is too?”

“...I thought you said you could help.” Asra grumbles.

“I said I would do my best…” Julian faintly replies, knowing that his partner is just still upset. “... All we can do now is wait…”

Julian was right, despite the frustration of Asra and Muriel, shaking didn’t work, cool water didn't work, even smelling salts didn't revive her. What else was there to be done? It’s as if she was locked in a dream. So… what else to do other than just wait it out?

Hours then flew by, unsure what to do, the three of them just sat there. Just waiting. Hoping. Praying she’d just wake up. Soon the outside started to brighten up and the lamplighters started to douse the lanterns in the streets. And still nothing. Asra finally makes a fresh pot of tea for them all having nothing else to do. 

As Asra hands Muriel a cup, he suddenly feels a strange sensation of a warm feather brushing against his cheek. As he looked all around him confused, there was nothing there, and Asra was across the room now over to Ilya. He realizes he can smell something eerily familiar. 

“Wait….. Do you feel that??” Asra says quietly, feeling the same presents. At the same time he takes out the tarot cards.

Julain sharply looks around, yet keeping very still unaware and shakes his head confused.  “....errrrr… Feel what, Love??”

“Shhh–” Asra places his pointer finger to his lips so he can still concentrate on this feeling as he looks at his tarot deck. He senses a particularly strong feeling from one in the middle, as he flips the card over he doesn’t know what to make of it. It is The Fool in reverse. “Rem… is this you?” He whispers looking intensely at the card trying to see what they're trying to tell him.

Muriel reaches out his large hand, feeling a very familiar warm aura hovering over Rhemi’s incapacitated body; it was faint, but still palpable. It’s some of Rhemi’s magic…. except… it didn’t feel exactly like hers…… It smells like ash… It feels like somehow whatever it is is reaching out for them.

Muriel then stands to his feet, wiping his wet face and nods his head glances at his friends. “I think…. No…. –I know what we have to do…”

With anticipation, Asra and Julian stare up at the tall man, ready to do whatever it takes to get Rhemi out of this trance.

✨To be continued…

[*Resurrects from the dead* DID YA 'LL MISS ME?? I missed all of you guys! I still really wanted to write this story because it bothered me I left it not completed. It's still a very long piece of work but I still think its a story worth telling. It was originally hard for me to tell it because it was triggering even for myself and I was struggling with self confidence and with Dorian buying out Nyx Hydra and effectively the fanbase dying out etc. etc., but even if I have one or two people reading this, it still makes me happy that I can give something to you! I am still creating and still writing, and I am healthiest (mentally I have been in a long time) I am even starting my own original story that I want to tell! It's gonna be Fantasy/Steampunk meets Westerns. So I hope I can still keep you hungry trash pandas still well feed with my hot garbage!]

Thank you my lovely trash pandas for (still) reading my hot garbage!

#the arcana #madllamamomma #the arcana game #muriel x apprentice #muriel #rhemi oc #muriel of the kokhuri #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #my hot garbage #my hot trash #did ya miss me? I miss ya'll #Martin alarie #sir martin #oc x Muriel

[kookaburra1701]

WIP Wednesday - Wives of Shor I: Moth to Flame

❤️❤️❤️tagged by @dirty-bosmer and @thana-topsy ❤️❤️❤️ tagging @gilgamish @nientedenada and @tallmatcha

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: T (entire fic is E) Category: M/M Pairing: Kaidan/Lucien Flavius Genre(s): Romance (bodice-rippers my beloveds), bildungsroman Other main characters: Inigo the Brave, she/her Breton LDB

Summary: A scene from near the beginning of the fic - Kaidan has something he needs to do before the party sets off for Bleak Falls Barrow. Lucien Flavius is by Joseph Russell, Kaidan is by Liv Templeton, and Inigo the Brave is by SmartBlueCat.

25 Last Seed, 4E 401 Whiterun's streets were shrouded in mist, the few lanterns still burning at this hour casting halos of light in the gloom when Kaidan stepped out of the Bannered Mare. Tucking his cloak around himself, he walked quickly towards the stairs leading to the Wind District. Given how long it took Lucien and Pascale to prepare themselves in the morning on the road, he estimated he had a good hour at the earliest before they made their appearance at the stables.

The lanterns on the doorposts of the Temple of Kynareth were lit, and the door was unlocked. The inner atrium of the temple itself was lit only by the votive sconces flanking the shrine of Kynareth at the far wall. Not wanting to disturb any sleeping patients or clerics, Kaidan moved around the outside of the atrium, but did not find what he was looking for.

"May I help you, child of Kynareth?"

Kaidan whirled, coming face to face with Danica Pure-Spring, who was holding a lamp and had clearly just risen from bed, her robe ungirdled and hair thrown over her shoulders in long twin braids.

"I did not mean to wake you at this hour Sister, I apologize," he whispered. "I came seeking Kyne's blessing."

Squinting at him in the dark, a flicker of recognition crossed Danica's face. "You're the one who brought poor Hadvar to the jarl - so you're accompanying him on that errand of Farengar's?" When Kaidan nodded she said, "I would be happy to give you a blessing." Danica turned and walked toward the Shrine of Kynareth at the far wall of the temple. "I have a traveler's amulet for you as well if-" She stopped talking and turned to look at Kaidan quizzically when she realized he was not following her. "Is something the matter?"

Kaidan glanced around the Temple. It looked just like every other temple of Kynareth he had seen during his travels in Cyrodiil and beyond.

"I would like a blessing of Kyne, Sister."

Understanding dawned on Danica's face. "I see, I see. I don't get asked for those much, especially with the Gildergreen...well. Unfortunately with the expansion of the healing wing the shrine to Kyne we had outside was removed, and never replaced. But we will do it properly, don't worry. The Goddess of Storms doesn't need anything made by man's hands to work her wonders. Meet me under the Gildergreen, and unsheathe your blade."

Nodding once, Kaidan turned and left the temple.

He almost kept walking past the twisted, scarred trunk of the Gildergreen. He must have incredible depth of hubris to ask for Kyne's blessings after turning his back on all of Brynjar's teachings - and instead of doing it properly, he was going to be doing it in the middle of a city, under a dead tree, with a priestess who prayed to Kynareth.

Despite these thoughts, Kaidan took off his cloak and knelt beneath the Gildergreen's boughs, facing the Throat of the World. He carefully unsheathed his nodachi, placing the scabbard in front of him, and laying the bare blade across his legs.

Below him, the buildings of the Plains District seemed like islands in a sea of thick fog, and to the east the first blush of dawn was chasing the stars away from the horizon. A lark began to sing in the branches above him.

Repeatedly Kaidan tried to still his thoughts and center himself, but every time he attempted to begin a breathing exercise, his thoughts would turn to Brynjar, and a sharp pang of guilt would lodge in his chest.

"Are you ready, my child?" Danica approached, her vestments in place and priest's cowl now covering her sleep-mussed hair.

"I- I don't know, Sister."

Danica paused, but did no speak, waiting for Kaidan to continue.

"I haven't prayed to Her in...a long time. I don't know if Kyne will hear me."

For a long moment, the only sounds were the rushing of water in the aqueducts and the lark still heralding the dawn, heedless of the two humans below his perch.

"It's not my place to say what She will or will not do. But-" Danica moved to stand before him and placed her hands gently on his hair as Kaidan bowed his head. "I am reminded of the story of Keeper Ormi, who turned her back on Kyne when she thought the Goddess had abandoned her sons in war. She was so given over to grief that she turned to daedra-worship, and became a hagraven. She desecrated Kyne's sacred trees, and led her priestesses astray. And yet the Goddess welcomed her back when she repented, and returned her to human form. Do not presume to have done such terrible works that She is unable to grant you Her peace."

Danica's words brought some measure of comfort, and Kaidan was able to quiet his doubts as she began the blessing.

"Widow of Shor, Blessed Warrior-Wife, May this man's blade be as swift as your storms, And sharp as your winds.

"Sister-Hawk, he is your sword and your shield, Use him to safeguard those under his care." "Mother of Men and Beasts, Do not draw your veil against him as he travels, Bring peace to the wild things, that they will not bare their fangs to him."

"Kiss-at-the-End, if he should fall, May he meet you with honor untarnished, And carry him safely to Shor's Hall."

As Danica finished Kaidan felt her place something over his neck. When he opened his eyes and looked down, he saw a small scrimshaw pendant hanging from a leather thong, covered in flowing spirals and flanked by two hawk talons.

The last time he had seen one of these was when they had burned it with Brynjar's body.

He stood suddenly, knowing he had to leave immediately if he was to retain any of his dignity. "Thank you, Sister."

"Your journey awaits," Danica smiled at him. "Wind guide you."

Kaidan refastened his cloak and pulled his hood up as he descended the stairs, leaving the Gildergreen and Danica behind. By the time he reached the main gates, his cheeks were dry and the amulet was safely tucked under his tunic, the weathered bone warm against his heart.

#skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #tes v skyrim #kaidan 2 #kaidan skyrim #wip wednesday #fic: the wives of shor #danica pure-spring #kb writes

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

hey sweet! i just read your daemon x Martell reader and omg that was hot!!! That being said I wonder if I could get more shameless obscenity 🔥🔥🔥out of Dom!daemon x bratty Martell reader please?

maybe he disciplines her for bad behavior she had (or whatever you see fit) + (it's the last one, I swear) if you can add a dirty talk I'll be extremely grateful, but feel free to ignore.

More Dom Daemon and shameless obscenity? 👏 👏 👏

''Waking the dragon"

Pairing:  Daemon x Fem. Reader (Martel wife / Third Person POV )

Themes: Smut | Soft | Aftercare

Warnings: Kissing | Nicknames | Impact play (spanking)| Overstimulation | Orgasm denial | Hair pulling | Dirty talk / Degradation / Name calling |Penetrative Sex | Rough Sex | Cream Pie | Dom/ Sub aspects.

Word count: 1.5k words

Rating: 🔥 🔥 🔥 | Minors DNI | 18+

Summary: Teasing the Rogue Knight while at dinner is bound to have consequences.

The wind howled like a pack of angry wolves. The blizzard had caught them unawares, and everyone scrambled to keep the keep warm. Fires crackled away in hearths and sconces, and braziers were lit all over Dragonstone, to keep the cold at bay.

But in one room, locked to keep everyone out, the air grew heated in quite a different way 

......

"Now have you learned your lesson kēlītsos?" Daemon reddened his wife’s thigh with a sharp spank, his entire body growing heady when she let out yet another moan.

"Yes –" another spank ripped a gasp right out of her as she struggled to keep herself steady over the painted table.  "I have learned… mph!"

Hands callused by tourneys and sword fighting left their mark again, making her tremble and whimper shamelessly. Y/n had worn her favourite dress for dinner that night, one with a neckline that plunged. She contentedly sat next to Daemon, daintily nibbling at her food and running her hand over his thigh under the table, caressing his growing bulge as he talked. No one had noticed how she touched him, and Daemon managed to keep himself composed until the meal was over and the others had vacated, leaving the two of them alone. Daemon waited just long enough before rising himself and ordering y/n to come to the adjoining war room.

And now she was paying the price for teasing him at dinner. But y/n didn’t complain, oh no. She knew this was going to be the outcome, and she willingly did it anyway.

Daemon ran a hand up her spine before grabbing onto her hair and tugging it back. "Shameless little slut, aren’t you?" He licked his lips when he saw his wife’s flushed cheeks and heard her ragged breathing. He was going to fuck her, but only after completely ruining her first. "Teasing me in public and playing with me, nearly made me lose control of myself right there at the dinner table."

"Y-yes," y/n shivered, and not from the growing cold. Her body had already begun to throb, and the insides of her thighs had grown slick from her arousal. "I did."

"And are you sorry, kēlītsos?"

"Yes," she mewled when tears of frustration pooled in the corners of her eyes. Daemon had played with her, slipping his fingers into her heat, bringing her to the brink more than once, and then denying her despite her entreaties. She felt dazed and overwhelmed and was close to begging him to finish her. "I am. Very sorry."

Daemon held onto her hair as he spanked her again, her moans deep and drugging to his ears. "You should be sorry, kēlītsos," Daemon had enjoyed what she did to him out there in the dining room, but he wasn't going to say that, oh no. He wanted to make her stew in it a little. "So fucking sorry."

He let go of her hair and pushed her shoulders down. Y/n could only fold her arms over the table and rest her head over them. "M-my p-prince," she breathed when he slipped a finger inside of her cunt.

Daemon groaned. He groaned when she willingly submitted to him; he groaned when her walls fluttered around his finger. He inserted a second, gently scissoring and curling them, sending them as deep as he possibly could until he found that sweet spot of hers. When she cried, "my p-prince," and bucked into him, he growled and kept his free hand between her shoulders, stopping her from squirming so much. Y/n could do nothing but whimper as her body heated and beads of sweat formed over her skin despite the raging cold of the night. She felt it, the wave building up again, rising higher and higher, threatening to consume her and pull her under. She craved it, yearned and ached for it, and when Daemon pulled out again, she wanted to sob.

"N-no m-more," she pleaded. "Please."

Daemon said nothing. He only held her down and moved his free hand to her throat, gently caressing and squeezing it with the amount of force he knew she liked. Y/n moaned again as his grip tightened and released, tightened and released, her breath reducing to shallow gasps when that large hand of his squeezed. It was pleasurable torment of the acutest kind, and she found herself giving in completely.

"More," she kept saying. "More. Please. Please."

From no more to more. How it thrilled Daemon to hear this. He let go and bent over her, running his lips over her skin, his tongue snaking over the goosebumps that rose all over. "Delicious," he crooned as he laved at the sweat that had gathered over her shoulders. Y/n trembled as his tongue glided over her skin and his hair prickled when it brushed over her every time he moved. When Daemon stopped and came to her side, she sighed dreamily and shuddered when she felt the heat of his breath against her ear. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" He said and brushed stray locks out of her eyes. 

Y/n nodded, sighing in contentment when he kissed her cheek tenderly. Daemon moved behind her again, making quick work of stripping himself. His clothes joined the ruined mess of what used to be his wife's dress. 

Daemon took a moment to look at his wife. Bent over the table, candles all around her, her body pliant and ready for him. He shuddered, anticipation building as he rubbed the tip of his cock against her slit. "You're so fucking wet," he groaned before teasing her, entering her with quick, shallow thrusts that drove her to the brink. Y/n swallowed and tried to get a good grip on the table. She was sure that the demon was going to ravage her. "So tight," he whimpered before plunging in without warning, delighting in his wife's little squeal when he filled her to the hilt. "Fuck," he muttered when he felt her pulse and throb around his cock. 

Y/n felt so full. So completely full. Jolts moved up her back and made her draw in sharp intakes of breath. She trembled when Daemon pushed her higher up the table and moved one of her legs over onto the ledge so he could fuck her better. She savored it, being helpless and vulnerable like this, with her body under his control. And when he grabbed her hips, pulling her into him as he kept sinking his cock into her heat, her eyes nearly rolled back.

It was so good. Everything was so good. Daemon grunted with each thrust, smirking when y/n's whimpers and meals slowly turned into pleas. He listened when she found her tongue and whined, "P-please my prince," and, "Harder my prince," and, "Don't stop, please."

It turned him on even more. "Do you want me to fuck you harder?"

Y/n felt like sobbing. "Please!"

"Is that so?" Daemon chuckled as he grabbed her hips and slammed harder. The lewd sounds of their moans—of skin slapping against skin—filled the air. "Then tell me. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you harder."

Her nails almost raked over the wood when he spanked her again. "P-please..." she mewled. "Please fuck me harder."

Daemon huffed breathily, more than happy to oblige her. "Needy little slut, aren't you?"

Y/n felt dips and etchings in the wood rub against her skin every time she moved with his thrusts. Her chest was going to be red and sore tomorrow, but she couldn't be bothered. Not with what Daemon was doing to her. "Yes... mph," she cried when he bottomed out inside her. "I am."

A large hand moved over to her shoulders and held her down. Y/n's fingers almost dug into some of the etchings as need and lust whipped at her like fresh coils. Her body trembled and jerked before her muscles coiled. Pain and discomfort and intense pleasure blinded her to everything else. Her thighs trembled as she was taken over the edge. Don't stop, she thought silently. Don't you dare stop.

And Daemon didn't. Not when she bucked into him and cried out; not when she moaned deeply as her orgasm ripped through her. He fucked right through it, relentless and unceasing, grunting with deep satisfaction when the trembling walls of her cunt milked his cock as it spilled his seed inside of her. With a deep moan of his own, he plunged one last time, his body completely spent and sated. After a few moments to rest and gather himself, he pulled away from her and took a breather.

Y/n blinked and tried to gather her breath. She was too exhausted to move. Her entire body was sore. She was certain that it was going to hurt by dawn.

But it was worth it. Oh, how it was worth it. How he was worth it. Y/n heard clothes rustling, as Daemon got dressed. A thick, soft pelt was draped over her body, and large arms scooped her up. "Shh," Daemon murmured when she whimpered and rested her head against his shoulder. "Let me get you to bed, then I'll see to your bath."

"Could you read to me?" Y/n closed her eyes when his lips skimmed over her forehead. 

A servant going about late-night duties gaped when Daemon carried his wife down the hall. The prince glared, and the maid sputtered an apology before going back to her work. "Gladly. How about tales of Aerea the adventurer? You always loved that book."

That made y/n very happy. "Thank you," she said.

.....

Want to be tagged? Want to know the rules? Read all here.

#daemon x you #daemon smut #Daemon #daemon x reader #x reader #reader inserts #reader insert request #daemon targeryan #hotd #hotd imagine #daemon imagine #a world of whimsy writes #writeblr

[mxanigel]

fic update: Cut to the Feeling

an Attack on Titan (Shingeki no Kyojin) fanfic

[Read on AO3]

An in-progress longfic that asks the question, What if they lived?

Chapter 25: Kiss My Scars

With assistance from Orvud's Garrison, Survey Corps forces defeat the massive Titan that was once Rod Reiss. Yet a rift remains between Shion and Levi. With Hange still hospitalized, Shion expects to face the night alone. To her surprise, she doesn't.

Rating: M

Relationships: Levi Ackerman/OC, Levi Ackerman & Hange Zoë, Hange Zoë & OC, eventual Levi/Hange/OC

Additional Tags: They/Them Pronouns for Hange Zoë, Hange Zoë Being Hange Zoë, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Friendship, Banter, Swearing, Lots of Cursing, Angst, Love and Loss, Asexuality Spectrum, Levi Ackerman Is Obsessed With Cleaning, Falling In Love, Literal Sleeping Together, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Canon Divergence, Nightmares, Torture, Blood and Injury, Demisexual Levi Ackerman, Bisexual Hange Zoë, I'm writing this because it's taken over my brain, I have spent so many hours on the wiki lol, Eventual Romance

----- preview snippet below -----

Shion throws herself into her duties for the next few hours—such as dismantling the unused set of explosives and interviewing soldiers for her report to Hange—stopping only when ordered to eat dinner. After the meal, she visits Hange’s hospital room to find them sound asleep. She leaves a scribbled summary of today’s battle with a personal note at their bedside before navigating a maze of halls and stairs to reach her assigned quarters.

Fuck, this room is excessive. Granted, this is one of the fanciest buildings in Orvud, but it’s surreal to experience that opulence, to think about how much money was wasted here instead of rebuilding Stohess or supporting refugees fleeing Titan activity.

Over a dozen candles burn in wall sconces, most of which she blows out to conserve them. A four-poster bed more than double the size of a captain’s bunk sits against one wall, far too many pillows piled on top of it. The oak dresser is as wide as she is tall; Zane would probably admire its construction. Situated on its polished surface is a washbasin, the softest linen cloths she’s ever touched, and an ornately gilded mirror.

Oh, she’s a terrible sight. She diligently brushes knots from her hair before braiding it again so it’s out of the way while she reviews her notes and begins drawing the grotesque not-face of the Titan per Hange’s request. When she can’t stare at her third sketch attempt any longer, she wearily flops backward onto the bed, exhaling as she drapes both arms over her face. She’s running out of distractions. Perhaps the best course of action would be to try to sleep, nightmares be damned—

Knuckles rap against her door. Who’d swing by at this hour? Hange wouldn’t knock. Historia’s a possibility, though her movements are likely restricted now, or it might be Sasha. “It’s open.”

Shion barely swallows a gasp when Levi steps inside. He slumps against the closing door, his head bowed, looking as exhausted as she feels. But he doesn’t speak. When she can’t stand the dead air any longer, she murmurs, “Hi.”

He merely grunts.

Distance yawns between them as silence returns. She doesn’t know why he’s here. She isn’t sure whether she wants him to be here. But it’s the first time he’s sought her out since their disastrous reunion after the Stohess ambush. This heavy atmosphere is better than being alone. Right?

-----

tag list (thank you~ like/unlike this post to be added/removed)

@poetikat @arendaes @captastra @outpost51

#attack on titan fanfic #aot fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #Hange Zoë #Levi Ackerman #OC: Shion Miller #and they were roommates #fic update #fic: Cut to the Feeling #OT3: what we have is each other #IT'S HERE IT'S HERE NEW CONFESSION TIME (and some smut) AAAAAH #also also also Shion has to work through the anxiety of explaining ace feelings #and Levi's been processing *his* feelings since Chapter freaking 9 #plus unseen behind-the-scenes stuff with Hange (since it's Shion's POV) that'll lead to eventual OT3 goodness #again AAAAAH *flees into hiding*

[demonscantgothere]

Litost by Helholden, Chapter 20: To Be Mad, or To Be Blind

Sauron/Galadriel set during Ar-Pharazôn’s rule of Númenor when Sauron holds the position of the High Priest of Melkor. Galadriel, captured in the middle of a war, has been imprisoned and handed over to him as a sacrifice to be made in the Temple of the High Priest, but Sauron has other plans. From Akallabêth to the founding of Gondor, unlikely allies are forged.

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power (TV 2022), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types

Warnings: Explicit, No Archive Warnings Apply, F/M, Work in Progress

Relationship(s): Galadriel/Sauron, Galadriel/Halbrand

Tags: Prisoner of War, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Good and Evil, Good versus Evil, Existentialism, Existential Crisis, Existential Angst, Late Night Conversations, Implied/Referenced Human Sacrifice, Acts of Kindness, Hate to Love, Love/Hate, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Alternate Universe - Future, Númenor, Akallabêth, Conflicted Galadriel, Trust Issues, Everyone Has Issues, Sauron Needs Therapy, Magic, Magic-Users, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Heavy Angst, Political Alliances, Canon-Typical Violence, Tenderness, Vulnerability, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think

Chapter Summary:

“Careful,” Halbrand warned, an edge of teasing to his tone, “being too at ease from escaping the crowd. I might think you wish to leave the feast early with me.”

Galadriel froze midstep, turning to face him with shock plain on her face. “No,” she blurted out. “No, not so soon—”

Halbrand’s laugh was jovial in response, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m teasing,” he said, pausing with her. There was a softness in his eyes. “My love.”

Her breath caught in her throat, which spurred him to draw closer to her, his hand catching her chin as he stared down at her through his lashes.

“I can call you that?” he asked, his words barely a whisper. “‘My love?’”

Her breath came more ragged and faster than before, and he only grinned in response—a wolfish grin, all serrated at the edges. The torchlight from the sconces behind her made his eyes glimmer with the flickering of each flame. “Yes,” she managed to say, and his lips came together at last as he hummed softly in reply.

Keep Reading

#saurondriel #sauron x galadriel #galadriel x sauron #haladriel #galadriel x halbrand #halbrand x galadriel #my fic

[riboism]

frontier psychiatrist- [discontinued]

pairing: yunho x f!reader genre: angst, thriller, suggestive? still not sure yet

warnings: mentions of mental illness, reader is a psychiatrist and yunho used to be her patient, abduction, stockholm syndrome if you squint, themes of violence

wc: 0.9k

disclaimer: the actions portrayed in this story are NOT reflective of those who suffer from BPD, depression, or anxiety as a whole. please do not generalize people suffering from these illnesses based on what you read in this story. this is all purely fictional.

a/n: I’m still not sure how many parts I will be adding to this series, or if I’ll even continue it. this has been sitting in my drafts for a while now so I’ve decided to post it. feedback is much appreciated! I don’t really know what I’m doing with this.

series m. list

“that boy needs therapy”- the avalanches

Yunho placed your dinner plate in front of you. White rice, grilled asparagus, and what looked like a grilled chicken breast, were all carefully placed onto the plate. 

“Tried out a new recipe for the marinade,” he said as he filled your glass with wine, “thought maybe you were tired of the lemon basil so I thought I’d change it up tonight. I hope you like it.” 

Yunho shuffled around you, carefully adjusting the small floral arrangement at the center of the table before taking a match and lighting the tall candlesticks that stood next to it. The soft jazz ballad filled the dining room, a nod to when you told him how much you enjoyed jazz music during his therapy sessions. He always put a lot of effort into making these dinners special for you; he wanted you to know that you were well cared for and that everything you could possibly need was right in front of you. 

He finally sat down and placed a napkin on his lap. “Please,” he said, motioning you to start eating. You picked up your utensils, still getting used to the feel of the cool metal against your fingertips. Usually, your hands were restrained in shackles and Yunho would have to cut your meat for you and feed you himself. You remembered spitting out every morsel of food, making him huff in frustration before he’d storm out, leaving you all alone in the dark and cold corner of his basement. 

After showing some changes in your behavior, Yunho allowed you to join him for dinner upstairs. The dining room was small but comfortable. The warm glow from the candles and the yellow lightbulbs from the wall sconces gave you a false sense of security. 

You chewed on the chicken breast, savoring the fresh taste of rosemary along with the sweetness of maple. You had to admit, he was a fabulous cook.

 “It’s delicious Yunho. Thank you.”

Yunho blushed at your compliment, pleased that you enjoyed his hard work. He made sure to be extra attentive to you, noting what you liked and disliked so that he could adjust his menu accordingly. 

Suddenly, you saw a flutter of white in the corner of your eye. Your eyes darted to the window, alarmed to see snowflakes falling. Yunho followed your eyes, chuckling when he saw the flurries collect onto the windowsill. “Look at that, the first snow of the season.”

You frowned a little. It was already winter and you had no clue. You couldn’t remember when you stopped keeping track of time. All you remembered was thinking that it was useless and that there was really no point in knowing if it was a Saturday or a Sunday. The days just blended into each other and Yunho had become your clock. You knew it was morning when he’d come down with your eggs and coffee. And night time when he’d wish you goodnight from behind the basement door.  

“Dr. Y/L/N? Are you alright?” 

Your head snapped back at Yunho. “Oh, yes, I’m fine, sorry…It’s just been a while since I’ve seen snow.” You raked your fork over the rice, playing with your food as you thought about your favorite snow days. How badly you missed going outside and feeling the cold air against your cheeks. You hated shoveling out your car after a bad storm, but now you thought there was nothing you’d rather be doing than plowing snow off your driveway. 

Yunho shot you a worried look. You reached over and placed your hand over his, giving it a small squeeze. “Really, I'm okay.” He wasn’t sure if he believed you but your warm smile melted his heart and he soon forgot about the whole thing. 

After dinner, Yunho walked you back to the basement. You hopped off the last step, looking down at the sad, dusty old mattress before you. Yunho had tried his best to make your space as homey as possible, but nothing could make the eerie environment any more comfortable than a prison cell. You turned around, looking up the stairs at where your captor stood. 

“Yunho?” 

“Yes, Doc?”

“Can I…” 

Come on, you thought to yourself, you’ve been holding back for weeks, just do it already!

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to continue on. “Do you think I can sleep in your room tonight?”

You tried hard not to shiver at the thought of Yunho’s bedroom. It was the one room you never wanted to unlock, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Yunho’s eyes widened at your request.

“M-my room? You want to sleep in my room?”

“Yes.”

He looked as nervous as a teenage boy on his first date. You watched him fiddle with his fingers while he weighed the pros and cons. 

“I don’t know Doc…”

“Please,” you moved up a step, careful not to get too close, “It’s just…It gets so lonely down here and sometimes I can’t sleep. And I like it upstairs, I like being with you. I feel safer when you're nearby.” 

Yunho’s heart fluttered. He took a deep breath as he mulled over your sudden request. Of course, he trusted you more now, but he still had his doubts. He worried if escape was still on your mind. The first few months were tough for him and you, but then there was a shift in your behavior. You were more caring, thankful, and accepting towards him. He figured you finally understood that this was for the best. He couldn’t have been happier. 

After a short while, Yunho finally gave in and nodded his head in agreement. “Okay. You can sleep in my room tonight.”

taglist: @hyuckilstan​ @ateezsatinysworld

please let me know if you want to be removed from the taglist. if you would like to join the taglist, please make sure your age is visible on your blog before asking me (18+ only).

                                                                                       chapter 2 →

#yunho x reader #yunho angst #yunho smut #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez scenarios #yunho scenarios #yunho fanfic #ateez fanfic #ateez smut

[swanmaids]

the bite of the blade

luthien/curufin’s wife: a jailer, her prisoner, and a knife. rated m for violence and knifeplay.

The second time she visits the prisoner, Ruindis brings her husband’s knife.

Angrist is cold and unforgiving, and cuts through iron like butter. The Princess of Doriath is not an ordinary elf, but nor is she made of iron. With Angrist at her hip, Ruindis will not cower.

She lights a torch, and walks down into the dark.

Outside the cell, Huan growls, and bares his fangs at her. Bloody awful mutt, she thinks, you used to love me. Back when I was pregnant, I couldn’t get rid of you. Perhaps it was only the spark of her son in her womb that the dog- who is not really a dog- had ever loved. Well, love of her son is what brings her down to Nargothrond’s cells now, so she ignores him as she sheathes her torch on a sconce and unlocks the door.

The princess is sat serenely on the bed, and she does not flinch as Ruindis enters. She who they call Lúthien is pretty, the way a Silmaril is pretty, and something about her speaks of doom, too.

“Back again, kinslayer?” she asks, in a voice like the singing of nightingales in the wood.

Ruindis hates her.

“Not by choice. You forced my hand,” she says, touching the hilt of the knife.

“I? What have I done to you?” she laughs, turning to face Ruindis. Her eyes are dark as the forest under the cover of night. “I am your prisoner.”

“My son.” Ruindis says, fighting the urge to grit her teeth. Lúthien is always, always under her skin. “You need to stop talking to my son. Leave him alone. You’re upsetting him.”

Lúthien’s eyes flash. Ruindis has not seen her angry before now, and while she is satisfied to have made the woman- who is not really a woman- react, she feels her pulse beat faster in her throat. “Upsetting him? Why, by telling him the truth? Am I not your prisoner? Do you not plan to wed me to your brother in law by force? The fault is hardly mine, kinslayer, if your son finds your actions upsetting.” She rises, and takes a step towards Ruindis, who grips Angrist harder.

“Shut up,” she hisses, “Celebrimbor is a good boy, a good son. He is simply sensitive. There are certain things he doesn’t understand. I won’t have you filling his head with poison.”

“Ah, I see. Ever the doting mother, to be sure.”

“What would you know about mothers, Princess? You have no children- though perhaps Celegorm will get a few on you-”

Lúthien grabs her face, forcing her head back against the wall. The princess is much taller than she - because she is not an ordinary elf, Ruindis must remember that- and her fingers dig into her chin. She looks up at her prisoner, and puts as much hate into her glare as she can.

“Now it is you who ought to watch your tongue. I’d sooner lie down with the Enemy than with him.” She digs her fingers in harder.

Ruindis shakes her head to free herself, to no avail. Then Lúthien releases her grip, all at once and steps back. Her head spins. She raises the knife.

“I’m tired of your stupid games, witch,” she says, “leave my son alone, that is all I request”.

“Alright, I shall. I promise to tell him nothing of his mother waving that blade at me. Perhaps in return, you might let me out?” Her voice is unnervingly light again, all anger gone. As if what Ruindis does doesn’t matter - as if Lúthien could simply walk out, if she willed it.

“You know I cannot.”

“I know you will not. You are too content to crawl on your knees for your husband and your brother in law, even when it will cost you your precious little boy-”

This time, Ruindis lunges. Catching the witch-princess off guard, she pushes her back onto the bed and climbs on top of her, thighs bracketing her hips, holding Angrist’s blade to her throat. Her heart beats wildly and her body burns all over. She hates her, she hates her, she actually hates her-

Ruindis leans over her, panting. Having caught Lúthien off guard for once, she is not entirely sure what to do now she actually has her.

“Well done!” Lúthien laughs. “Very good. Are you going to cut me, then?”

“Would you like that?” She asks, wildly. Her head is spinning. “My husband loves it when I do it to him. He’s always begging me to-” what is she doing? What is she saying? She has to get the situation back under her control- it is under her control, she has Lúthien at knifepoint, so why does she feel so wrong? She presses the edge of the blade down the slightest touch to distract herself, and watches three perfect droplets of blood well up on Lúthien’s milk-white skin.

A lazy smile spreads across Lúthien’s face. She reaches up, the blade still at her throat, and presses her her lips against Ruindis’, the lightest touch, the beat of a butterfly’s wings. What is she doing? This is all wrong, Ruindis should go-

Quick as an arrow, Lúthien grabs her wrist, and grips it. There is a sickening crunch, and a flash of agony, and Ruindis rolls off the bed, her broken wrist cradled to her chest.

“You bitch!” She gasps, darting towards the door and fumbling for the handle with her good hand.

“Leaving so soon? Probably for the best,” the witch says casually, “though you should probably take this with you. I think it could be quite useful, don’t you?”

She tucks Angrist back into Ruindis’ belt.

#my post #my fic #my ocs #ruindis #tuserosie

[m0srael]

A series in which I ask my mutuals for fanwork recs, and then come back and tell you why I loved them. Any chance you have something to rec (the criteria are virtually non-existent)? Please, please send it on. Here is my original ask with more info.

I Was Recced:

As The Lights Lift Around Us by @zeziliazink [Drarry | M | 25.6k]

“What?” Draco said, finally looking Potter in the eye. Potter’s eyes were wide and green below his raised eyebrows. It must have been the lenses of his glasses sharpening the flecks of color in his irises, because they were almost shimmering in the light of the hundred-year old sconce on the brick wall behind Draco’s head, and oh fuck, he was still looking Potter in the eye, what the fuck, how was he supposed to get out of this, now?  In which our heroes become reacquainted in a pub, spend a whole day together that turns into night, and then...? Featuring a minor freakout (Draco), a brand new song (Harry), and affectionate exasperation (all of their friends). Will Draco figure his shit out before Harry gives up? Will Harry survive the Venomous Tentacula? Will Draco ever decide which tea he wants? Will Harry's HooTube commenters ever forgive him for falling in love?

As the Lights is a stark departure from last week's read: Open Fire by Slytherco. With tags like "musician!Harry", "flying teapots", "lots of blushing", and "lots of grinning", you might expect this fic to be super cute and fluffy--and you would be absolutely right! Zezilia gives us just enough angst in this Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers story to make the getting together feel genuine and believable without making us doubt for one second that these boys we love so much will end up happily together. Reading this story made me feel so warm and fuzzy that I inhaled it in a day, and I highly recommend you do so as well! In addition to the classic, very gay trope of the "24 hour date" and musician!Harry's smoldering good looks and endearing friendship with Luna (who fronts a band called Luna Lovegood and the Good Loves !!!!!), there are a couple of specific things I want to shout out about this story:

🐣 Draco Malfoy's Journey to Healing His Inner Child Is there another person, real or fictional, who needs to heal their inner child as much as Draco Malfoy?? Arguably Harry James Potter, but when we meet him in this fic he's well on his way. I love how Zezilia skillfully peppers in all these little but significant ways that Draco is trying--consciously and subconsciously--to re-parent himself and to replace all the vicious, unkind voices that have populated his head for so long. His mirror has the voice and personality of someone's doting grandmum, for goodness' sake! But beyond that, we get to witness Draco learning how to allow himself to be earnest, to openly enjoy the things he likes, and to be a little weird! It helps that he has two of the world's best friends, Sophie and Ravi (Zezilia's OCs), to encourage and support him. Honestly, I desperately want a Sophie. It's so gratifying to watch Draco not only love himself for who he really is, but learn that other people will love his true self, too.

🧙🏻‍♂️ The Wonder of the Wizarding World I adore the ways that Zezilia has woven the most magical parts of the wizarding world through this story. The way that they use magic to embellish scenes and complicate the characters lives is so delightful. Whether it's a particularly bawdy painting of a shepherd tending his flock (and other things), the most magical sounding café with Cheering Charm-infused pastries, or a magical park full of animated (and also bawdy!) statues, Zezilia doesn't hold back on the whimsy!

And a bonus: this fic is pro-Hot!Neville, and so am I. So very much.

If you read this (or have read it), let me know what you think!!

*

I Was Recced As The Lights Lift Around Us by @softlystarstruck, so I read:

morning light [victuuri | G | 1.8k]

A cozy winter morning, and a new term of endearment.

Okay, so technically speaking I have read everything Bee has ever written--much of it several times--which means this was a (blissful) re-read for me. I've gushed about my favorite stories Bee has written before (starlight (the unsuccessful return of a runaway prince), to be a bit of warmth (for you), you bring me home, their kinktober 2021 collection, for starters) but I have yet to really rec this one. Since most of my mutuals will be familiar with the way Bee writes our favorite boys, Draco and Harry, I am here to implore you to dig into their Yuri!!! on Ice fics on AO3, even if you aren't familiar with the source material!

Bee takes all the tenderness, care, and intimacy which which they write their Drarry stories and carefully molds it to fit these two lovely, anxious men. What I love most about Bee's writing is that they are able to gently pick up two characters, see right to the heart of them, and then translate all their deepest desires and fears right onto the page in beautiful prose (and sometimes verse!). This means that while morning light feels undeniably "Bee" in its tone, pacing, and use of endearments, the relationship between Viktor and Yuuri is unique and so true to their characters. Viktor (off-screen) is bold and confident and commanding, while Yuuri (everywhere, all the time) is anxious, self-effacing, and unsure. In this close, intimate moment Bee manages to capture all of their facets, allows them to let their guards down, and helps them to grow even closer to one another. This fic is warm, quiet, blushy, and so, so lovely!

Thanks for sending me a recommendation!

#reading recs from friends #drarry fic #drarry fanfiction #yuri on ice #yoi fanfic #fanfiction #healing my little brain one story at a time #zeziliazink #softlystarstruck

[sparrowsworkshop]

“All I Am” by OneWingedSparrow, for Zelink Week 2023; Chapter 1: Deceptive Appearances

Next Chapter >>> (Coming Soon) Fic Summary: The captain of the Knights of Hylia has been tasked with holding back the demon king’s forces. Aware that he is out of his league, Link struggles with coming to terms with the gravity of this command. Fortunately, Hylia is watching out for him. Main Tags: Link / Hylia, Hylia & The First Hero, Hylia & Link vs Demise, Worth, Purpose, Romance, Skyward Sword I Love You But We Ignore SkSw Canon for the Sake of Creative Liberty, I suppose that fact makes this an AU, it’s supposed to be set way before the events of Skyward Sword anyway, Additional Tags to Be Added Warning Tags: Alcohol Use, Conversations about Death, Struggling with Feeling Unworthy, Addtional Tags to be Added

Author’s Note: This fic will be rated M on AO3, but will stay SFW throughout. Before you choose to read, please be mindful that this story will touch upon heavier themes. Angst with a Good Ending: As of now, I cannot promise that this story will have a Happy ending; but I am certain that it will be Good. Read on AO3 @zelinkcommunity​ Here is my fic for Day 2 of Zelink Week 2023! “Forbidden.” The rest of this fic will not be posted for Zelink Week (I have other fics to share for the remaining days), but I intend to return to it at a later date! I hope you will keep it on your radar! ✨ Reblogs are appreciated!

~ He was going to die. He knew better than to believe in mercy from a demon king. That’s why Link didn’t bat an eye at the inflated price of Tabantha’s homemade whiskey, but simply tossed the bag of rupees over the counter at her and started drinking straight from the bottle. If anyone had been seated on the empty stool to his right, they might have noted the haggard lines carved into the man’s forehead—that is, if those were even visible under the low-hanging hood of his tattered black cloak. If such a person had a keen eye, they might even have recognized the blood red scarf tucked inside the hood, a noose that never left his neck; and they would well have wondered, perhaps aloud, “What is the captain of Hylia’s army doing at this bar at this hour, drinking his life away?” Not that the captain himself would have answered. Link’s eyes were distant, staring into a realm no mortal could wander. He downed the whiskey with the same practice and precision as he might have driven a blade into the heart of a foe. How long he sat there, whiling away what little remained of his life, Link neither knew nor cared. Though Tabantha’s bar was filled with its usual number of patrons, and a steady hubbub rollicked the room, silence was the captain’s only companion. Until someone took the stool to his right, and swung it towards him, long skirt swishing over the worn, oak floor. Removed though he was, the motion caught his eye. Link glanced over the bottle to see a woman beside him, leaning one elbow over the bar. The light from the sconces on the wall seemed to make her hair sparkle; golden, it was, and long like a tapestry, with purple beads braided into a few choice sections. If he was in his right mind, he might have thought her beautiful. But hearts blinded by dread so rarely acknowledge the beauty set before them, prominent though it may be. “No man thirsts so without reason,” his companion said. Her voice was soft, and seemed to float through the air like a feather. “What is it that you seek to forget?” Link tugged at his scarf, freeing just enough to wipe his mouth. A burp came out before his reply, but he was too drunk for his lack of table etiquette to bother him. “All of it,” he said, raising the bottle in a solitary toast. “Take it...take it away.” “That is much to ask for, my friend. Is that truly what you wish?” “Why not?” He laughed, hard and long, but there was no humor in the sound. “No point in holding on. You get it, yeah? You—you unnerstand.” Even the hearty din of the room could not drown out her silence. She was quiet for a time, though he wasn’t sure how long that time was. He shouldn’t have cared—why was this woman even bothering to talk to him, anyway?—and yet, when he tipped the bottle back again, it froze before the rim even touched his lips. She...she was looking straight at him, and for some reason, he startled. Her face...those eyes. Did he know her? Huh. How strangely...familiar. This unplanned staring contest could have gone on forever, had the woman not looked away first. Despite this, Link knew she was not turning away from him, not writing him off as some drunken fool blabbering on. No, she was still listening; he was convinced she was listening. For some reason, words started to dribble out of his mouth, freely as the whiskey on his chin. “We’re gonna die,” Link said bluntly. “We’re all gonna die. They think we can fight the Demon King. Ha!” His voice cracked. “Th’ last line of defense, they call us, an’ they’re right, they’re right. They’re right, y’know. We can’t hold him off for long. Not alone, without divine aid.” He spread his arms wide for dramatic effect, and then let them fall, limply, to his sides. Her long, pointed ears inclined towards him, her countenance somber. “Your wisdom is sound,” she said softly. “Facing him alone is ill-advised.” The bottle was slick in his grasp. He tipped it on accident, spilling a considerable amount of booze on his cloak. Link growled at the treachery, and tried unsuccessfully to wipe it away. “You need not face him alone, Link. I vow, I shall be with you.” This news was surprising enough to divert his attention. He looked her up and down. Round face, white dress, bare feet. Her hands looked too soft to have held any weapons. Her face seemed too peaceful to have seen much battle. If she believed herself a warrior, where was the proof? “You?” he said hoarsely, now too tired to laugh. “I,” she said, with a smile that rivaled the glitter of her beads. “You,” he repeated, frowning. Such confidence, such poise...it all seemed so familiar. Was she an acquaintance? An old friend? Did he know her after all? He couldn’t recall. “Wha’s—” Link hiccuped. “Your name, by the by?” “Hylia,” she replied. “I am Hylia.” Link stared at her through bleary eyes. “Like the—the, the goddess?” “Precisely like the goddess,” said the woman named Hylia, feathery voice embellished with a certain fondness. “You are correct.” Well, he didn’t know anyone named Hylia. Clearly, his gut was mistaken. She must have reminded him of someone he once knew. “Tha’s funny,” Link mused. “You don’...look like a Hy...lia.” With that proclamation, he tipped off the stool. The whiskey slipped from his fingers; but Hylia caught the bottle before it could crash to the floorboards alongside his crumpled form. The liquid sloshed lackadaisically within; the bottle was nearly empty. “And you do not look like a Hero, Captain,” Hylia said, peering down at the floor where he lay, hood and scarf both fallen askew. She set the whiskey upon the counter, and the brown glass dimly reflected the faint glow of her long, golden hair. “But appearance oft belies the deeper truth within.” *        *        * A ruthless hangover thrashed him into waking. Hmm. Tent poles. He was in his tent, back at the warcamp. Birds twittered outside, gossiping behind his back. He sat up and groaned, shooing a fly away from his face. How...did he get here? He had no memory of the night before. “Well, that’s mighty fine,” Link said aloud, with a snort. There was much he wished he could forget; the escapades of last night were certainly the least of his troubles. Summoned by his voice, the flap of the tent lifted. The army cook poked his head in, immediately wrinkling his nose. “Captain. I see you’re awake.” “Yeah? I see it too,” Link muttered dryly. Stretching, he reached for his nearby daypack, and began rummaging through its pockets. “Do you have anything truly useful to report, Dovos?” “The soldiers grow antsy,” Dovos said. “You are not usually absent for the morning drills. Pipit wanted to wake you earlier, but left to run the drills instead.” His fingers danced between several smooth, cold objects. There was a catch. There was always a catch. “How kindhearted of Pipit to let me sleep in,” Link said, distractedly. “I sent him away from your tent.” The cook cleared his throat. “Captain, I...I never thought you to be a drinking man.” There it was. “I am not,” Link replied, and tossed a gift through the air. A single rupee landed in Dovos’ open palms. When he saw the color, the cook’s tanned face turned darker than ever. “Silver? You play a dangerous game, Captain. The Knights of Hylia must abstain from alcohol. You know this.” “And a man on his deathbed is gifted spirits to drown the pain,” Link snapped. “If Hylia so desires, she may strike me down. Frankly, it would be a mercy.” So saying, he threw another rupee at the man. This time, it was gold. Dovos’ eyes went wide. “I appreciate your concern,” Link said, voice hardening, “but my business is my own. Consider this my token of thanks for carrying me back, and mind that you do not follow me on my private outings again.” “I did not carry you back, sir,” Dovos stammered, fumbling with the rupees. Link scowled. “Un—understood, Captain.” The cook ducked, and the flap closed after him. Blasted headache. Link rubbed his eyes, while his dry, dirty hair fell over his face like a veil. What had become of him the evening before? Had he stumbled back here alone? In the dark? Miles from camp? No...someone had to have been with him. Hiding his intoxicated state from the soldiers. Ensuring no one took advantage of him on the way. Keeping him from getting lost. With a sigh, Link loosened the scarf on his neck, and then threw the soiled fabric to the corner of the tent. As if that would happen. No one ever cared that much. ~ Next Chapter >>> (Coming Soon)

#thanks for reading! #zelink week 2023 #zelink community #hylink #hylia #the first hero #hylia and the first hero #multichapter fic #alternate universe #link #dovos #tloz #tloz fanfic #fanfic #all i am #the legend of zelda #zelda fanfic #fanfiction #sparrow fics #forbidden #loz #loz fanfic #legend of zelda