#and inks for when we do stamping | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkyray · 1 month

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INKED

MATT STURNIOLO

a/n: this is my first oneshot and i deadass have no idea what im doing, go easy on me. im so used to writing full stories i kind of struggle with stand alone oneshots but yeah, i appreciate constructive criticism

3.6k words

warnings/content ahead: the bitch is getting tattooed yall, smut, p in v, brief fingering, degrading, hair pulling, the plot that leads up to the smut is longer than the smut itself ☠️

๑

You felt the prickly needle press ink in and out of your flesh, it spared small stings that you didn't exactly hate. Nick sat on his living room couch not far away from you, but still far enough to raise his voice a little so you could properly hear him. He had a good bond with the tattoo artist, and she didn't mind coming to his house to ink him up.

Nick sat with his short sleeve rolled above his shoulder, revealing a tattoo he had just got done with. His shoulder is sore and red, covered in a layer of antibiotic ointment and plastic wrap. Earlier today he had invited you over, since he knew how long you've been wanting a tattoo, and you had decided you know what, fuck it. You tagged along. You and Nick are close, he's one of your only best friends in LA, since it isn't really where you're originally from. You two would hang out any chance the other was free.

It often got annoying for his other brothers how much you were around, but they had caught a quick loving for you and found the place empty and weird when you weren't there, considering how much you were with Nick.

The buzzing of the tattoo machine filled the silent void before it was interrupted by a TikTok Nick was watching on full volume, making you two laugh as the tattoo artist held down on your waist to keep you from messing her up. You were getting a tramp stamp tattoo on your lower back, your sweatpants folded right on where your underwear begins.

A few minutes pass of just buzzing, your stinging skin, loud TikToks, and the smell of antiseptic.

"We should make a TikTok." Nick announced after a while. You raise an eyebrow, "Now?" you wondered. Nick nods, taking the throw blanket from off of him and getting up. "I don't know Nick, kind of in the middle of getting a tattoo." You smiled up at him as he got closer. You were laying on your stomach, your body against the black leather chair wrapped in plastic, but your elbows kept the rest of your body that weren't your ribs, up, so you could use your phone.

"Oh please, you look hot as hell right now." He stood, chuckling. You rolled your eyes. "Nick. I'm in sweatpants and a tank." Nick looked at you from his phone, tapping a few things on there which you assumed had to do with TikTok. He quite literally sighed. "You are so unaware of yourself, girl."

You shrugged and blew him a kiss. "So TikTok or nah? I want to do, like a transition of our tattoos and us lip syncing to some shit song from the 2010's. I already made a draft of myself doing it before I got this bad boy." He points to his new splotchy tattoo of the bat on his shoulder. "Yeah, guess so. You're gonna have to film me in the midst of getting my tattoo, though. I didn't exactly record myself before this."

With the press of a time skip button, you guys filmed the TikTok, posted it, and Nick declared he was tired, going for a nap to his room. This wasn't out of the ordinary for him to be asleep with you here, you'd do it all the time when he was at your place, and either one of you guys eventually followed in the others footsteps, finishing whatever you were doing and going to lay beside them to sleep too.

The front door of the house opened, and you already knew it was Matt and Chris. They were running errands for their manager and Nick had decided to stay behind with you, since you were planning on getting tattoos together. Footsteps creep into the place and you wait for their reaction. They didn't exactly know you were also getting one, and they knew about your commitment issues with tattoos, so this was kind of a big deal.

Chris walks in first and doesn't even turn to look at you, assuming you were Nick getting tattooed. "You're still getting inked? How big is your bat supposed to be, Nick." He grabs a Pepsi from the fridge and pops it open. "Pretty big." You answered, your head resting on your palm as he turned to look at you, Matt following closely behind.

"Oh, shit." Chris gulps down the Pepsi, walking over to you as he inspects the tattoo on your lower back. "How does it look?" You question as you see Matt stop in his tracks and come closer to get a better look at it. "Fucking sexy. Good job." He holds out his fist and you bump it, smiling at the comment.

You feel Matt's gaze linger too long on your skin as Chris goes back into the kitchen, making another comment about the tattoo you didn't quite catch. The stinging on your back now feels ice cold. "What do you think, Matt?" You wonder, turning your head slightly to look at him.

"Bold. For someone like you." He mutters, walking over to the kitchen to grab a root beer, maneuvering around Chris since he's constantly in his way. You scoff. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Is Nick sleeping?" Chris asks, you nod, he quickly goes looking for him.

"What I mean is that it's a tattoo decision I would've never thought you'd pick." Matt says, looking at you from the kitchen as he sips from his drink. This could mean so many things and you found yourself getting confused. What? "Matt, I'm gonna need you to elaborate."

It wasn't a secret that you were the least closest with Matt. Everytime you'd try to do the things you'd do with Nick but with him, there'd be some sort of thick invisible fog in the air, making you hyper-aware of everything you're doing and saying. Your chest always felt too heavy around Matt and the tension it weighed on you was too much. It wasn't normal, and you were sure Matt could feel it too. You knew a lot of stuff about him, and he knew a lot about you, but there was something between you two keeping you from taking the extra step of declaring you guys close.

He lets his eye's dart everywhere in thought, putting together how he's going to explain it to you. "Mmmm," he mumbles, "...no." He decides as he begins to leave the room, stopping in his tracks before he fully leaves, peeking his head around the corner. "You look good though, what Chris said." And he leaves.

You are beyond confused, you turn your head toward the tattoo artist, who was sharing the same look on her face. She spared you a shrug.

It's been a few weeks and your tattoo is fully healed, you loved the way you felt with it. The urge to get a million more tattoos on you was strong, but you held back.

On the other hand, being around Matt had begun getting more unbearable by the day. When you two were left alone, there was nothing to talk about. You would shift uncomfortably and he would bring out his phone as a distraction, doing nothing significant on it other than switch between apps. You were too aware of the other and the air around you would increasingly thicken. You were sure if you tried, you could slice through it with a knife.

Right now, was one of those times. Matt in the driver's seat and you were in the middle back seat, Chris and Nick had gone inside a store to grab a few stuff.

You watched his fingers tap the steering wheel, his thumb patiently rubbing against it, studying the fact they were slender and long, trained by veins that went down his hands. They looked so perfect under the gleaming hour of the sun. His nails weren't painted, so his short nails naturally colored themselves pink with a small white hill on his thumb. You let your imagination run free. Touching the dip of your waist or massaging the inside of your thigh. His fingers curving themselves inside you…

His eyes darted at the rear mirror, catching you focused on his hands. It took you a second too long to realize that. You looked up at the mirror and found his blue eyes fixated on you, dark hair sitting across his forehead and strands messily on his eyes. Your heart gave you a loud thump and a punch in the face of flushing blood. You didn't look away from his eyes, but you could still see his thumb grazing against the steering wheel.

Your brain was empty of words. You had no idea what to say and you were sure neither did he, until he began to speak. "What ever happened to that tattoo?" He asked, still looking at you from the mirror. You furrowed your eyebrows. It takes you a second until you realize he was talking about the tramp stamp you have. "It ran away." You answered blankly, because what kind of question was that supposed to be.

Matt sighed, looking out of the window, you watched him look outside as you calculated the messy hair that didn't seem too bad to pull on. "I mean, it never made an appearance again. No one ever saw it ever since you got it." He said. A small smile forms onto your mouth. "Some people have seen it." You mutter lightly, not bothering to look away from him as he goes back looking at you.

"Is that so?" He wasn't smiling, his face was processing a look of annoyance. You wink.

The car doors are pulled open and in one sudden movement, Chris comes in with a laugh and sits next to you, Nick follows closely behind, chuckling in that deep-voiced way he does after he made a joke he was proud of, and seating himself in the passenger seat. "Why are you sitting here?" Matt questions, not bothering to ask what they're laughing at. Chris takes out a Mento and offers you one, you reluctantly take it and let it sit in your mouth, wanting to suck the flavor out before you chew it.

Nick laughs even harder. "Oh, I didn't even realize I was sitting here. Chris, and you just let me?" Chris cackles, "It doesn't matter Nick, it's just the passenger seat." He puts an arm around you. "Plus I wanted to sit with her." He tells you specifically, looking at you as he begins to chew the Mento. "How I am honored." You sarcastically put a hand to your heart, not once taking your eyes off Matt. He was expressionless and began driving.

The conversation held on and turned into a different topic, you would make sly remarks here and there but for you, the entire ride home was hard. Matt would catch you staring at him, and when he had to turn the car back with his hand behind Nick's headrest, he would look at you longer than the road behind him. He didn't look really… pleased. Which had you amused.

He was upset that he wasn't one of the people who got to see your tattoo finished and healed, and you were catching onto that. The longer they'd drive, the more stern his expression would shift. He got progressively more and more irritated throughout the ride.

They make it home and Matt doesn't even give you a glance, he immediately heads to his bedroom and makes it known by his silence he'd like to be left alone. Okay, drama queen. You thought.

You had to go see what was up, it was just in you. After the conversation you two barely had and the eye content you held, which you were pretty sure was a hallucination you pulled out of your ass, you were curious to see just how riled up he was. Or you could get him.

Chris and Nick get a call from their manager saying she's outside, picking them up so she could explain to Nick something that had to do with their merch. Apparently she already spoke about it to Matt, so it'd just be Chris and Nick going to their studio warehouse to see, since that's where all their merch first goes.When they leave, your thought process changes in a matter of seconds. Seeing how upset he is, you want to see how hard you could push his buttons.

You approach his room and knock 3 times. No answer is received, you raise your fist to knock a second time, and by the first knock the door is pulled half open, revealing Matt looking down at you, expecting you. "What?" He asks, his eyelids drooping as he looks at you blankly. He changed into gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt.

"Can I come lay down next to you? I barely got any sleep last night." You lightly fluttered your lashes at him, holding your phone with both your hands. Matt stares at you, inspecting just how tired you looked. You looked fine, but he still opened the door wide enough for you to enter, not saying anything.

You lay on his silk bed sheets. Silk. What a slut. He sits in front of his computer, and boots open a game, not bothering to acknowledge you here. You don't like that. After leaving yourself alone with your thoughts for a while today, the least thing you wanted was to be ignored. Especially by him. Even if it meant annoying him, you just wanted to have some sort of contact with him. Either verbally or physically, you don't mind a single bit.

You clear your throat. "Thanks, Matty." He grimaces at the nickname, used to hearing his family say to him, but not from you. "My legs have been hurting all day." You say, cuddling into his pillows, stretching hard enough to arch your back. A real yawn escapes your lips.

"You don't work out, don't play that dumb shit with me." He says, turning his head to look at you for a moment, before turning back to look at his monitor. "Who said anything about working out?" You tell him. He stops, completely forgetting what he was supposed to be looking at.

"I don't know, I guess my tattoo really does magical wonders for me." A smile slips through your lips as you turn the other direction, your back facing him as your shirt exposes the tattoo, your pants hanging dangerously low on your hips.

You can't see him, but you hear him turn, and you feel yourself getting excited. "Why'd you get it?" He asks and you turn your head softly to look at him. His question was simple, but the expression on his face certainly wasn't. "Why does anybody really get a tramp stamp, Matty?" You respond to his question with another one, and he is giving you a look of impatience.

"Just fucking answer me right now, sweetheart." His voice isn't loud, but his anger is. He practically huffs and you feel yourself getting immensely more attracted to his aggressiveness. You turn your head back to the other side, leaving him unanswered as he burns holes in the back of hair, knowing that would tick him off.

You hear shuffling and then the bed dips, and your heart literally does skip a beat. You swallow your built up spit down your throat as Matt grasps your jaw and makes you look at him, your eyes meeting his blue ones immediately. "Don't look away from me, y/n. Why'd you get that fucking tattoo?" He held your jaw firmly. He was on the bed rooted on his knees, looking down at you as you laid on his pillows.

Your smile somehow got wider, flashing him your white teeth as you slowly parted them to answer. "So you could fuck me." Your eyes were staring intensely at him but in a lazy manner.

Matt's eyes narrowed, darting between your eyes and your mouth. "You fucking whore." He muttered, his lips pressing onto yours so much faster than you could say the word 'whore' itself. Your eyes screwed itself shut and took the opportunity as fast as you could, kissing him back harsher.

He let go of the kiss too quickly, which only frustrated you. "You got that tattooed for me, baby?" He wonders, his voice is hoarse and breathy. You nod so fast your hold almost fell off, and as embarrassing as it was, it was true.

You had only 1 body since before the tattoo, and you barely even counted it. Constantly being around Matt but not knowing how to go about it made you more desperate. He did something to you no one had ever done. Sometimes you would feel yourself pulsing for him, imagining your fingers as his.

The reason why you had even begun considering a tramp stamp is because of the sick fantasies that they held, using Matt as its lead.

Recently you got laid, and it was underwhelming and disappointing. Your legs actually hurted because you did a few squats the day prior, not because the sex was good.

"You fucking liar." He was smiling but nothing in his tone was friendly, his eyebrows were furrowed but his grin was undeniable. You licked his mouth and he pressed against your lips. "I wouldn't lie to you, Matty." You moan into the kiss, feeling his hand trail down your body and to your waist. A hand was on the dip of your waist and the other was holding your jaw secure.

Your heart was quite literally out of its body now, his soft hand trailing to feel your bare skin under your shirt, grazing just the hill of your bare chest, purposely not touching your nipples. In a sudden movement, he cups your breast and your whimper is muffled under the kiss.

He has his knees caging both sides of your thigh, pressing his knee into you. He smirks as you gasp. "Lift your hips for me?" He pulls away, a small string of saliva connecting you two. You look straight at his eyes as you lift them, making sure he holds eye contact. And he does. He does as he curls his fingers along the strap of your pants and shoves them off.

"Let me see it." He orders. You grin, raising an eyebrow. "That could go for a lot of stuff." He grabs the side of your underwear and lets go of it, having it snap against your skin. "The tattoo. I want to see it." His voice is more demanding, more gruffly. Your pussy was soaked.

"No." You tell him all with a sly smile, you liked him aggressive and didn't mind seeing how far he'd go. In a sudden movement, you are flipped to your stomach, your hair is being gripped by his hand, pulling your head up as you feel his fingers tracing your tattoo. His fingers were too light. Too soft on your skin, you felt your back arch as he decided to balance the softness with a harsh slap on your ass.

Some hair was loose, out of his grip, resting on your back. The rest are being pulled closer to him, you feel his hot breath whisper in your ear. "You slut." A smirk spreads on your face, biting your bottom lip close enough to leave it bleeding. "You talk a lot." You tell him. He forces your shirt from off of you, leaving you just in your black lace panties.

You're still on your stomach, your bare chest pressing against his silk sheets. Your underwear is slipped off of you. Two fingers found their way to your pussy, sensitivity rubbing against it, your back arching your ass into his hard dick. "Fuck me already, Matt." You moan, knowing he's only touching you to get you overstimulated. He ignores what you're saying, responding to what's going on in his mind. "You look so beautiful. Bending yourself for me on my bed, begging for my cock."

His fingers rub against your folds, flipping your stomach inside out, pressing against your clit and your moan comes out louder than intended. "So wet for me." He licks his lips. Just as you were about to push yourself against his fingers, he let go abruptly. A huff leaves your lips and you whine. "Sorry, baby, you need something?" He mocks. You give him a noise of annoyance in response.

He grabs your ass hard, and to your surprise, you feel his tip at your entrance. You immediately clench around it and you hear him moan. He shoves himself inside of you and you practically scream, your whimpering gets louder each thrust he makes in and out of you. "You feel that, slut? Is this what you wanted?" He groans, not bothering to stop. You answer by pushing yourself onto him, fucking yourself to him.

You pushed your lips into your mouth, loving the sound of his moans and whimpers. Your head was pressed against his pillow, and he went faster, tears started prickling your eyes, shutting them. Your noises were getting more intense and a knot began forming in your stomach.

"I'm.. oh fuck–" Before you could even finish what you were saying, you release. Matt slows down, every push in is longer and slippery with your liquid, your pussy tightens around him and he mutters a quick "fuck" and pulls out, cumming all over you.

You turn to look at him. He looked back at you. There were many times you thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world, but now, seeing your hair a mess and its baby hairs sticking to your forehead, your lips sore and red from his aggressive kisses bare on his bed, he thought he was looking at a goddess. You glare at him, noticing he's been staring at a few seconds too long. "What?"

"I think I might need to see that tattoo one more time."

(idk how a tags list works)

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netherworldpost · 10 months

Text

With the various rumors and releases of Tumblr possibly changing how they do things... (gestures to the vague rumor mill)...

Zines.

I really think we as Folks Who Make Things and Folks Who Like Art Writing Poetry Music Comics Other Things need to explore zines. And I mean ZINES. Nothing glossy. Nothing fancy.

Very. Cheap. Zines.

I've been threatening mentioning I was going to create a guide on how I'm going to approach this -- and I'm going to -- but I am also realizing in the writing I Do Things Highfalutin because I am who I am + had a career in graphic design.

Let's talk about how you can make a zine very cheaply and very pretty.

STEP ONE: SUPPLIES

Very bright paper. I like "Astrobrights" because they are absurdly bright. Here is a link in a store I like. I buy a lot of paper and envelopes from them. You can generally find Astrobrights in big box office stores. It prints on laser printers and ink jet and photocopiers.

Very bright envelopes. What's that? Astrobrights has envelopes?! AM I SOLVING PROBLEMS let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Letter paper is 8.5" x 11" and is the most common size in the united states (overseas folk will have to use this advice with a grain o'sea salt and search yer own waters).

A9 envelopes are a letter sheet folded in half.

A2 envelopes are a letter sheet folded in half, then folded in half.

#10 envelopes are your common long envelopes, letter paper folded in thirds.

Pick the size you like.

If you want to get big and fancy, Tabloid is 17" x 11" -- so double a letter sheet. This gets tricky to work with but is neat in sizing.

STEP TWO: ZINE CONTENT

Do you know how to use InDesign or similar program? Use that.

No? Use Google Docs or Word or whatever other program and ramble.

Want something special? Write out some or part with a sharpee or pen.

Mix and match both.

If you are feeling fancy, design it like a booklet -- mock up a sheet of blank paper as if it were a brochure. If not, just design it straight up and down like a letter. There are no zine laws.

STEP THREE: ZINE PRINTING

Print at home on your home printer.

Don't have a printer at home? Print it at work (don't get fired)

Can't? Your local library may be able to help.

You need 1 copy on white paper.

FedEx Office has photocopiers. Your local library may too. Or your job.

Print 1 copy of your zine on white paper and then photocopy the rest onto colorful paper (or white paper, it be yer zine seadog).

Or print everything on the color paper if you have access to free printing, that's fine too.

The photocopy setup is purely "printing tends to cost more than photocopying."

If you want to slash prices, print 2 per sheet and have FedEx office cut them for you, this will cost $1 - $5 depending on how many sheets you are dealing with. This is for when you're doing a LOT of zines at once.

Or use their manual paper cutter yourself for free.

STEP FOUR: ZINE STAPLING

"Long reach stapler" is what I recommend. There are a few varieties. They tend to be $20 - $30.

Or just use 1 sheet!

STEP FOUR: ZINE POSTAGE

A single first class stamp for 1-2 pages. If you get up to 3+, go to the post office and ask them to weigh a comp you have assembled.

This is a guideline.

It's a really good idea to check at least once how much your zine weighs just in general. Post offices have scales. And are pretty. And have stamps.

OKAY ENOUGH LUSTING FOR THE POST OFFICE FROM THE GHOTS POST OFFICE BLOG BACK TO WORK

STEP FIVE: ZINE MAILING

This is actually the most difficult part. Label printers exist with various costs -- if you're starting out? Go with printable labels.

Your office supply shop will have them and they'll have templates you can drop in the customer addresses.

Save yourself time by using this label as the thing that seals the envelope -- don't lick envelopes.

A key tenet to staying in business is constantly reviewing physical (and mental) labor and stressors and reducing them as much as possible.

Return address labels are intensely cheap in literally every online printer, google "return address labels." Make sure you have this because at least a few of your shipments will come back to you.

STEP SIX: ZINE PRICING

Okay here is where we get uncomfortable because we're talkin' coins.

Prices are based on above links. You can get whatever paper you want, so this is guidelines. All numbers rounded up.

Payment processing ($0.30) + $0.05 sheet + $0.15 envelope + $0.66 first class postage = $1.16 base cost

$1.16 + 2.9% of $1.16 payment processing = $1.20

Plus taxes. I'm not getting into tax figures YOU DO THAT (just say 30% for easy math, this is not saying "your taxes are 30% or that mine are" I am saying "I am going to factor 30% for this equation to complete this guide".)

I did not include the mailing label (it will be $0.01 - $0.05 depending on how fancy and how many you buy) because you have the option to just write things and also it fits into the rounding of the above.

If you use Patreon, include your fees. Probably replace the above processing fees with your patreon processing... fees? I don't use patreon I don't know how it works.

Retail option 01: $1.50 - 1.20 = $0.80 gross - 30% = $0.09 / net / zine.

Retail option 02: $2 - 1.20 = $0.80 gross - 30% = $0.56 / net / zine.

Retail option 03: $3 - 1.20 = $1.80 gross - 30% = $1.26 / net / zine.

Should it be $1.50? Should it be $3.00? MORE? LESS?! That is for you to decide. Base it on what your zine contains, how long it takes you to write/draw/etc. it and how you want your flow to be.

STEP SEVEN: ZINE FREQUENCY

When my shop launches, it'll have a zine once a month. We are going to offer a subscription option + a "I just want 1" option.

You can do a zine monthly, or every few months, or whatever.

Keep in mind that the purpose of doing this is to break the dependency on social media marketing.

KEEP IN MIND AS AN AUDIENCE MEMBER TO A CREATOR YOU LIKE THAT THEY ARE DOING THIS TO BREAK THEIR DEPENDENCY ON SOCIAL MEDIA MARKETING.

If you have a lot of energy and an audience that comes to your shop a lot? Consider doing a zine monthly.

If you do not have a lot of energy and/or your audience is tapped for cash frequently? Considering doing 1 zine per season.

Consider 2 zines a year if that works better for you!

NO RULES ONLY JOY

Not sure? Experiment! Be upfront! "This is new. I'm figuring this out. Billionaires are tinkering with these things and we gotta figure something else out."

BONUS STEP: NETHERWORLDPOST.COM

so hi I'm atty and I'm your loud long rambler today

Netherworld Post Office used to be @evilsupplyco and now we are rebranding in prep of relaunching. Same person behind the rambles and comics, new name with a more focus (mail instead of mail + seemingly everything else in experiment)

if you enjoyed this ramble and/or like ghosts, monsters, witches, mermaids, and fun stories and projects focused on cozy Halloween, you may like us when we finish the rebranding and relaunching in autumn 2023.

email sign up (the zine will come when we are open)

WHETHER YOU JOIN MY LIST OR NOT

I really, really, really hope you consider doing a regular, or irregular, zine. Something outside of email, something outside of social media, something that connects I MADE A WEIRD THING and the people who say I LOVE THIS WEIRD THING YOU MADE.

The walls are closing in on free social media as a platform for people who make weird things to build audiences for free or very cheap.

And with that...

netherworldpost.com as one final hat pass

good luck folks

thanks for listenin' to the ol' ghost

#small business #small business marketing #small business fun #zines #zine #making zines

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danikamariewrites · 8 months

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can i please request one where reader has a tramp stamp/ hidden tattoo ? like in one tree hill hayley has the number 23 as a tramp stamp for her man nathan, maybe something symbolic for the acotar men. maybe Truth-teller for azriel, cassians wings, rhysands name maybe? a flame for eris and a little fox for lucien?🧎‍♀️

Secret Tattoo

Acotar men x reader

A/n: they would be so turned on omg. I won’t lie I have literally thought about a tramp stamp as a joke and then I was like nnaaaahhhh that would be bad 😂

Warnings: some smut

Cassian

You always made sure to hide it from him. You got it while drunk and out with Feyre and Mor. They both got one for Rhys and Emerie too but Rhys found Feyre’s pretty quick. You and Cassian were having a heated makeout session which brought you to your bedroom. Once you were both bare Cassian flipped you on your stomach and started to take you from behind. Lost in the heat of the moment you forgot about the tattoo. Cassian finally seemed to notice and stopped thrusting. “What? What’s wrong baby?” You were worried something happened. He started laughing and tracing his finger over the tattoo. “And what do we have here?” He laughed out. You pulled off him and scrambled to lay on your back. Cass was staring at you with a shit eating grin. “A tramp stamp huh? All for me too.” You rolled your eyes.

“Yes.” You spat back. “I like the wings. You got the wingspan right, nice and big. What’s in the middle?” “A red gem for your siphons.” You say shyly. Before you knew it he was back on top of you, pulling you into a bruising kiss. “Mother above baby that’s hot. You’re all mine and have the ink to prove it. Fuck.”

Rhysand

Rhys would notice while you were still asleep. You both occasionally sleep naked, especially during the summer months with the windows open. Rhys was getting ready for the day and went to give you your goodbye kiss when he saw little swirls on your lower back. Just the top poking out of the top of the covers. He slowly pulled the duvet back so he wouldn’t wake you. When the tattoo was fully revealed to him, Rhys couldn’t stop grinning. It was his name surrounded by swirls to mimic his Illyrian tattoos. Rhys was so turned on he wanted to wake you up and fuck you into the mattress until all you could say was his name. He wanted to just look at the tattoo while going in and out of you. But he decided to wait. Maybe tease you about it a little.

When you waltzed into his office later on that day Rhys smiled and acted like everything was normal. “Come sit with me darling,” he held his arms out for you and hugged you to his chest once you sat down. “How has your day been so far?” While you talked he rubbed circles over your sweater where your tattoo is hidden. Rhys snakes his hand under and lifted it a little. You didn’t jump away from him bc you didn’t want him to get suspicious. You move to leave and Rhys held the back of your sweater lifting it a little. You froze. “Well,” he drawled, “it looks even better when you’re awake.” Your jaw dropped as you spun to face him. Rhys winked at you.

Azriel

You’d try to hide it from Azriel but simply couldn’t help yourself. You had gotten Truth Teller with his shadows around it as a tramp stamp. Usually you’d need to be drunk to go anywhere near a needle, especially something permanent. But Nesta, Feyre, and Mor were all getting tattoos and you wanted one so you had to join in on the fun.

Azriel was relaxing in bed reading when you came out of the bathroom, leaning on the door frame, practically undressing him with your eyes. He stared back at you with a mischievous smirk. “Hello, my love.” “Hi Azzy.” You push off the door frame and plop yourself down on the bed in front of him crossing your legs. Azriel leans forward and starts playing with the ends of your hair. “You look like you have something to tell me love.” You giggle and nod innocently. When you turn around he’s confused. Then you lift your sleep shirt up enough for him to see. Azriel’s jaw drops when he sees it. He thinks it’s a beautiful piece of art on your body. But then something in his mind snaps. You did this because you are so in love and devoted to him. It shows him that you’re his forever. Then he goes feral. He pulls your shirt all the way off and starts whispering his dirty thoughts in your ear.

Lucien

He would find it when it’s fresh and new. Lucien could smell the ink on your back. He knew you wouldn’t tell him about it so he’d have to coax it out of you any way he could. Every time Lucien went to touch your back you’d side step away from him. He’d start to tease you about hiding something and you’d get flustered because he’s so smooth and charming your cheeks always turned pink.

Eventually he had enough and said, “I know your hiding something just show me.” You shook your head not wanting to give in. Lucien could see it when you were good and ready to show him. When he got on his knees and begged you, you gave in and turned to let him lift your shirt. “Wow.” He breathed out. “It’s beautiful, sunshine. Is it for me?” “Yes.” You say, turning to hold his jaw in your hand while the other strokes his long auburn hair. It was a fox running surrounded by wildflowers for him.

Eris

Eris not thought about a tattoo for himself or one for you. But the more he thought about it after you brought it up the hotter he thought it would be. Matching tattoos with you would be perfect. Showing that your bond is physical. More than your scents intertwined and more than that primal need for each other. When he went to go talk to you one day he smelled that your scent was a little different. The metallic scent of blood and ink embedded into your skin. “Darling, did you get a tattoo?” You looked down shyly “would you think differently of me if I did?”

“Not at all. I want to get a matching one with you.” You looked up at him with love on your eyes and wrap your arms around his neck. “Can I see what you got?” You nodded and turned. “It’s on my back will you…” “oh yes,” Eris starts to untie the ribbon on the back of your dress and you shrug it off, still covering your breasts. Eris’s breath catches in his throat. He lightly traces the skin above the still sensitive ink. It was two foxes circling each other, Autumn leaves in a whirlwind surrounding them. “It’s beautiful darling.” “It’s supposed to symbolize us. And how we danced the first night we met.” Eris was speechless.

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dfortrafalgar · 1 month

Text

Special Delivery

(Sanji x Fem!Reader- Offscreen)

Sanji reaches out to Zeff for the first time in years.

I wrote this many, many months ago now, and it was the first fic i posted anonymously on AO3. I got a few requests after it was originally posted to write a second part, which I eventually did!

You can read Part 2 here! Original AO3 link

(I figured I should let my blog breathe a little in between the really heavy and emotional Law fic im writing, and what better way to cool down than some sanji fluff <3)

A sharp squawk awoke Red-Leg Zeff from his daze. With a grumpy expression and a low grunt, he peered towards the direction of the sound.

A messenger coo was seated on the railing of the Baratie's upper deck next to where Zeff stood slouched over with his forearms leaning against the wooden support. It cocked its head to the side as if it was deconstructing Zeff's appearance before reaching into its pouch and procuring a parchment envelope. Zeff found it strange. Messenger coos only usually delivered the newspapers or the latest bounty reports, very rarely were they put in charge of personalized letters. It must have been paid off by whoever wanted this delivered.

The gruff man took the parchment from the beak of the bird and watched as it took back off into the air, leaving a few molted white feathers behind in its wake. He looked at the envelope.

All it said on the front, in very elegant handwriting, was "Captain Zeff." He flipped the paper around, revealing a wax stamp holding the opening down, which he peeled off with a calloused thumb.

Tucked neatly inside the envelope was a white piece of paper, tri-folded over itself. Zeff slipped the paper out, unfolding it to reveal the written contents of the letter. The penmanship was impeccable, and the ink was very sleek. He knew immediately it was from Sanji, not many other pirates had handwriting as good as his. He had completely lost track of how many years it had been since the curly-browed boy left with that ragtag group of pirates to sail to the Grand Line, but Zeff had every single one of his bounty posters. He'd never admit it, but they were tacked up on the wall of his sleeping quarters. Every time Sanji's bounty increased, Zeff felt pride swell in his heart.

"How are you doing, you old geezer. It's been a little too long since we've had any contact, so I thought I'd write to you just to see how you've been. You're no slouch, I'm sure you've been keeping up with the world's events over the past however-many years. Do the Marines even bother to keep sending our bounty posters to the Baratie anymore? Well, regardless, I'm sure you can read right through me. I can't deny it, I miss you, old man. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life, and such a huge part of that is thanks to you and the guys back on that old cruiser. Every recipe I try to make, I imagine you screaming in my ear and telling me that it tastes like shit. Some days I really wish I could be back there, but most of the time I'm joyful. Life has been really, really good. A few years ago, I met someone. Last year, we got married, and soon after our lives changed so drastically. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, and she's as sweet as an angel. I mean it, too. I know you'd probably think something along the lines of me playing up my affections again just because she's a pretty woman, but I mean it. You'd love her, Zeff. Living as a pirate is the most stressful thing anyone could ever do, but she makes every day worth it. The crew was discussing the possibility of returning to the East Blue a bit ago, and when we do, I'm going to introduce you to her. I've spent the last years talking all about you, how you taught me everything I know about cooking, and I can tell she's just as excited as I am to finally see you. This letter's gone on long enough and I don't want to use up all of Nami's paper.

-- Sanji"

Zeff felt a lump in the back of his throat. Sanji had grown into such a fine young man, eloquent with his words and his feelings. He knew how big of a deal it was for the boy to be so honest and open. But one thing in the letter caught him off guard. What did he mean by, "Soon after our lives changed drastically."?

Zeff peered into the envelope, where another, smaller envelope was tucked inside. He almost didn't see it. Pulling it out, he held the letter and original envelope in between his fingers while he opened the second. Sanji was thorough with his packaging, that's for sure.

Inside, there were three photographs printed on thin, matted paper. The first was of Sanji and you, the wife he wrote about in his letter, taken by someone else holding the camera. Sanji had his arm around you, holding you against him, and you had your face nuzzled into his neck. His other hand held a cigarette away from the two of you, like he was in the middle of telling a story. The two of you were smiling brighter than the sun, Sanji's eyes completely closed with the motion of laughter, and yours creased, your irises looking up towards him.

The second photo made Zeff's eyes water. A photo of you and Sanji on the deck of the Sunny, exchanging rings. Sanji was wearing a sleek navy blue tuxedo, while you were wearing a gorgeous white ballgown. For pirates, you cleaned up phenomenally. He could just make out tears in Sanji's eyes as the photo displayed you sliding a band onto his finger. A skeleton with poofy hair stood between the two of you, which Zeff found a little odd, but he chuckled at the absurdity of it all.

Zeff flipped to the last photo.

The tears that were welling in his eyes from the previous image finally slid down his cheeks in heavy, salty droplets. His lip quivered.

Sanji sat in a chair, beaming down at a bundle of cloth held gently in his arm. He was crying in this photo as well, and was reaching a finger over the top of the bundle, where a smaller hand was reaching outwards to grab onto it. A small glimpse of blonde hair could be made out from under the cloth securing the baby tightly. On the back of the film, Sanji wrote the birth date and the name of the baby.

Zeff used a sleeve to wipe his blubbering eyes. His lips quivered, but he couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face.

Was he allowed to call himself a grandfather now? He figured it was only appropriate.

#fem reader #reader insert #x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #special delivery

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earth2bucky · 3 months

Text

gale dekarios / reader

request for helping the other bathe post-injury!

All prior eves of lacerations and concussions considered, a sprained arm is hardly the worst of consequences you’ve invited in your travels. In the absence of any real, life-threatening danger, all that surrounds the injury is a persistent inconvenience. Your inability to help set up camp comes at no great personal loss, but the same can’t be said for the undesirable of bathing one-handed. And so you turn to your wizard, ever willing, to smooth out the indentations of armor from your skin and rinse the mud from your tousled hair.

Approaching yet another questionably sanitary body of water, led by his callused, ever-persistently ink-stained hands, you let out a deep sigh.

“Once we reach the gate, I’m not leaving the bathhouse for a full week. Mindflayers and cultists be damned. I’m not doing a thing until I’ve scrubbed off three layers of skin and smell of roses from a mile away.”

Gale’s eyes are occupied with ensuring the safety of your steps, but a gentle smile crosses his face all the same. Despite the weariness stamped beneath his eyes, he shines under the healthy glow of the moon. There’s something incredibly vulnerable about moments like these; hidden under tree cover from the heavens and their forsaken goddesses.

“And a robe. I’d like a robe. Something pretty.”

“I’ll see to it myself, love - though admittedly for my enjoyment as much as yours.”

Any flirty comeback you had lined up is overshadowed by a dramatic shiver as your skin hits the water. With the usual urgency of seeing you in any state of discomfort, Gale waves a hand absentmindedly over the surface of the water and you feel sharpness turn to warmth.

“Mm. You beautiful man, thank you.”

He smiles, a gentle, tired thing, and lowers you to kneel betwixt his legs.

As he settles into position, the hand that isn’t occupied with untangling your hair sits tenderly at your throat, right on the pulse. If you could wrangle yourself quiet enough, you’re sure you’d hear him matching his breathing against the dull rhythm. It's a habit you often catch him indulging in; to seek out veins and pulse and rewrite himself to the same tune. To love a living, breathing creature is to kneel in prayer to a fallible god - and Gale Dekarios is never one to back down from a challenge. He had flown too close to the heavens and swallowed the stars, and what a terrible waste it would be if not to bring them back and litter them along your collarbones in reverent kisses.

To be doted upon with such reverence, such pure devotion, suddenly spikes the threat of tears at your eyes. Gale is a devout man; to his studies, his fallen goddess, to the arcane. Really, it should’ve come as no surprise to you that his worship would extend tenfold to the object of his affections - but it seems to knock you right in the chest every time.

“I understand why Tara likes this so much.”

Gale makes a sound of amusement somewhere in the back of his throat. “I won’t deny that we share a profound bond, but I assure you that I do draw the line at bathing with my tressym.”

“I meant your hands, in my hair - silly man.”

“I see. I told you that the two of you were alike.”

“Perhaps, but I draw the line at purring for you.”

His resounding chuckle catches you by surprise, warm and boyish. It’s a pleasant sound, and a far cry from his usual intensity. You fidget under his touch.

“Please get this dirt out of my hair so I can kiss you.”

“In good time.”

You hum in agreement, despite the impatience that flits around in your gut. To his credit, he makes good on the promise on just outside of a minute, gently rinsing your hair with handfuls of water and using the other to shield your eyes.

When you eventually rise to face him, he looks just as wound up by emotion as you feel.

Thank yous are murmured in-between fond kisses that you begin to quite lose yourself in, only to be found back in your pain in an attempt to draw him closer. A hairsbreadth from his lips, your breath hitches, and Gale, ever attuned, begins to scheme.

“As much as I appreciate your usual tenacity - perhaps this is an excuse to still your wandering hands for a night."

Despite your pain, a pang of desire spikes in the pit of your stomach.

“Gale Dekarios, you are a sadist and an insufferable tease.”

His softening frown hangs around for a moment longer in dramatized hurt at your insinuation.

“Perish the thought. When have you ever known me a selfish lover?"

Another instance of pain rings out then, the way it often does when you’re feeling especially sentimental and consider Gale’s motivations too deeply. Always so composed, accommodating, willing to please. Refusing to indulge for fear of losing himself in the surrender. Whether it's a lingering effect of the orb or the result of serving a goddess you’re not sure, but you vow to dismantle it all the same.

You respond with a proposal of your own, and trust him to read between the lines. “Another night, when I have full use of all my extremities, you’re to let me return the favor.”

Any trepidation in his initial reaction is soothed by the sincerity in your gaze, or perhaps he’s simply too tired to protest.

“As the lady desires.”

You nod; kiss him firmly, and file away his promise for later.

“Excellent. Your tent or mine?”

#gale x tav #gale x reader #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios x tav #breaking the writing muscle out of retirement please be nice

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deepdarkdelights · 2 years

Text

The Reaper | Jungkook x Reader

Pairing: Yandere Mercenary Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 14.6k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Fear, Non-Consensual Touching, Symptoms of Panic/Anxiety, Stalking, Murder, Lots of Blood, Attempted Sexual Assault (Not By Jungkook), Mild Smut, Dub-Con, Cunnilingus, Decapitation, Throats are Slit, Wolf Attacks

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.

Preview: “With your skirts drawn up over your thighs, the skin raised with goosebumps from the cool spring air, his hand retreated only to return with what looked like a stamp but where the rubber should have been, there were instead tiny needles all coated with bright red ink. Before you could begin to squirm again he quickly pressed it against the side of your thigh pulling a pained cry from your throat.

When he removed the faux stamp beads of blood rose to the surface of your skin, blending with the red ink that has been left behind. But the image imprinted on your skin was clear as day, a symbol your town had come to associate with fear: a skull pierced by a sword and ensnared by a snake. It was the mark of the reaper.

You had been marked for death.”

A/N: Here I am at almost three in the morning again lol. This is super UNEDITED but I will edit it tomorrow so please bear with me when it comes to any grammatical errors. I HUSTLED to get this done before classes start Monday so hopefully the quality did not suffer. This also ended up being 4-6k longer than intended. Very on brand. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and I can’t wait to see you in my inbox and the comments, love you 💜💜💜

It was supposed to be the happiest day of your life, but your stomach was twisted in knots.

You were one of the lucky ones, at least that was what your father had told you when he excitedly grabbed hold of your hands with a winning smile.

“A diamond in the rough,” He had whispered in awe, “How lucky I am to have had such a beautiful daughter born out of this village.”

It is true that none of us have a say as to what family we are born into, and that couldn’t be any more true for you. You were born into a poor family in a dilapidated village in the woods, you had been destined to live a destitute life like everyone else who had come before you. But you were happy. You enjoyed your spring days running barefoot through the Brooke, the lingering heat of summer nights beneath the stars, the crunch of autumn leaves underfoot, and the bite of cold winter wind against your cheeks. You adored the simplicity of the only life you had ever known and you never wanted for more.

But oftentimes, parents desired more for their children, more than they ever had. And that was why your father had jumped at the chance to marry you off to a visiting lord.

Had you not entered the forest that day to forage, maybe you would not have ended up in this situation. But you had so there was no point in dwelling on the alternate possibilities of what could have come to pass rather than what actually had.

~~~~~~~

You had always been warned about the danger of the woods growing up, but those warnings had been about wolves, bears, and mountain lions. There had been one dangerous animal you had ignored, one you walked amongst every day: men.

You had been sitting down in the soft grass, your legs folded beneath you at the knee as you carefully plucked berries from the bush, your cupped palms pouring them into the basket beside you when he had approached. At first, you considered that you had been so focused you had not heard him follow you, but you soon came to understand that he had been perfectly silent - his body so trained to move in stealth that even the woods would not give him away.

A firm arm wrapping around your waist and the cool glide of metal against your throat startled a shriek from you as your body flinched back only causing you to corral yourself into his arms, your back pressed against his solid chest as the knife posed at your neck barred you from moving.

You panted in fright, your eyes clenching shut as you felt his lips brush over the shell of your ear while he hushed you and cooed like you were a little injured animal.

“Stay still, little lamb, I don’t want to hurt you.” He muttered, his voice low and rhythmic as he spoke a language you had no way of understanding.

“I don’t understand,” You said after an uncomfortable swallow, your neck tense beneath the blade of the knife.

“There are many things you can’t understand, not yet, the hunt hasn’t begun.” He said with an amused chuckle.

The humor was lost on you, his words nothing more than a jumbled mess of sounds strung together that you were unable to decipher. His actions though, were readable. You jerked in surprise as his knifeless hand slid down your body, tugging your layers of skirts up over your knees and not stopping there.

“Stop! Leave me alone!” You cried, your legs kicking frantically as you grabbed his forearm and tried to still it.

You were quick to learn that he was incredibly strong as your grasp did nothing to dissuade him. Another laugh vibrated through his chest and against your back, he was clearly amused by your thrashing which only served to send chills down your spine. He pressed the blade harder against your skin, the metal just barely piercing the soft, vulnerable flesh causing your body to go rigid in fear that he would slit your throat.

“Good girl,” He hummed, the tip of his nose grazing over your cheekbone in what felt like an almost affectionate gesture. “Be still,”

With your skirts drawn up over your thighs, the skin raised with goosebumps from the cool spring air, his hand retreated only to return with what looked like a stamp but where the rubber should have been, there were instead tiny needles all coated with bright red ink. Before you could begin to squirm again he quickly pressed it against the side of your thigh pulling a pained cry from your throat.

You had been marked for death.

A pained cry of devastation filled the forest, a sound that had unwillingly left you that was not unlike the call of a wounded animal. Out of everyone in your village, why had you been chosen to die? Who would have paid the hefty price to target a quiet village girl?

You knew what came next, you were going to be hunted down. That was what they did - they marred the flesh of their victim so that they could find them if by some miracle they had found a way to run away. And that meant the runner would have an entire band of reapers on their tail, chasing them until they grew too tired to continue running and were unwillingly dispatched - their soul severed from the body in one fell swoop of a blade.

You weren’t going to survive this, no one ever did. And why would you be the exception?

The reaper behind you hummed in what he attempted to make a soothing manner as he lowered his knife from your throat, the hand that once held the horrific stamp was now freely caressing your arm in short smooth strokes.

“Did it hurt that badly, little lamb?” He whispered in what you now knew to be the coded language of the reapers.

There was no way you would ever be able to understand what he was saying and he knew that so why did he bother speaking to you in his language at all? Why didn’t he speak the villages’ language? At least then you could understand what he was planning to do to you, and your wild imagination was only frightening you more than what he had done so far.

His fingers brushed your tears away, they were long, nimble, and calloused, the perfect tools to wield an arsenal of weaponry but were instead attempting to soothe you. You were utterly confused.

“Don’t cry, this is a happy day, you’ll see that soon I promise you.” He spoke softly, his hands gently cupping your face and allowing you to face him as his thumbs continued to swipe the tears away.

Your vision was blurry making it difficult to identify him, your body still shaking with frightened hiccups. You could make out the honey hue of his smooth skin and the dark strokes of coal around his eyes as well as the black leather and linen that covered his body. You could tell that he was young and most definitely strong, his linens straining against the cords of muscle that built his shoulders. Even with your limited vision, you were able to tell that he was perfectly sculpted to be a reaper, a hired killer to whoever offered the highest price.

His fingers lightly traced down the length of your jaw before freezing, his entire body stiffening like he had heard something you were not able to hear. And you were exactly right, he had heard the incoming party of hunters.

You heard him unsheathe his sword before you had seen it, the sound of metal slicing through the air as he wrapped a strong arm around your shoulders, tugging you into his side.

It took a moment before you heard it, but the sound of hooves was unmistakable. And, a few short seconds later, the first horse broke through the trees before being followed by a band of its fellows. Seated astride the first horse was a man that was near your father’s age, his clothing refined and expensive along with the gold and jeweled rings that covered his fingers. And the sigil he bore on his horse was enough to confirm your suspicions - he was the lord of the land.

Your body sagged in relief and, as a result, relaxed against the strong chest of your captor whose grip only tightened further. You were going to be saved.

“Release the girl, or suffer the consequences.” The Lord spoke, his voice still and commanding.

The man behind you was motionless, his breathing steady and calm despite the massive hunting party that was armed to the teeth staring him down.

“I won’t tell you again,” The lord called, and with that, his men raised their bows and notched their arrows - all waiting for the command to fire.

The reaper leaned forward, his warm breath beside your ear as he whispered the only words he has been permitted to say, “When the time comes, I will find you.”

And with that, he threw a small pouch with lightning speed, the fabric unraveling as it met the ground and releasing a massive and unrelenting stream of dark plumes of smoke blinding everyone in its vicinity - giving him the perfect cover to slip away.

Your eyes teared up as the smoke cleared, whatever powder had ignited had greatly irritated your eyes and filled your lungs with smoke causing the hunting party and yourself to violently cough away the burning sensation in your throats and chests.

You dug the heels of your palms into your eyes as you recovered from the unexpected attack. You were shocked that you were alive more than anything else. It had been a twist of fate and a shot of luck that a highborn had traveled this far into the land and because of that, you were alive. But for how much longer, you were unaware. The mark on your thigh still stung, demanding its presence be known. With that mark, you were as good as dead. No, you were a walking corpse - it was only a matter of time before the reapers came for you.

The sudden appearance of a hand before your face startled you back to reality causing you to fall back onto your rear in an embarrassing display of clumsiness.

It was him, Lord Ilseong.

“Are you unharmed?” He asked, concern heavy in his eyes.

You gratefully took his hand and allowed him to help you to your feet before bowing your head to him and bending at the knee in a show of respect, your eyes trained to the ground.

“Thank you,” Your voice wavered, heavy with emotion, “You saved my life, I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

Lord Ilseong hummed in appreciation at the sight of your submission, “How unusual, someone of your status who understands etiquette.”

Your blood warmed in irritation from his remark, despite the heroic actions he was like every other highborn of the land. They saw the people of your village as uncouth, dirty, and uneducated. You were surprised he hadn’t wiped his hand after helping you up.

You flinched in surprise as your chin was held still once more today by his hand. The creases around his eyes deepened as he smiled, turning your head from side to side to appraise you.

“Why you don’t look like the common peasantry at all,” He said with an amused grin and lecherous eyes, “In fact, you are quite the beauty.”

“Thank you, my lord,” You forced the words out from a strained smile. You knew better than to disrespect a high born, lest your head would be swiftly removed and your family slaughtered from your careless wrath.

One of the firmest lessons you had learned had been how to control your anger. Village people were expendable and you were not special.

“Well trained,” He mused before releasing you from his hold, “I think I know just how you can repay me, my dear.”

You were suddenly struck by the thought that you had escaped one dangerous trap only to wander into another.

Lord Ilseong and his men had escorted you back home. The entire process was quite the spectacle, especially for the village people as you returned astride the horse of the lord of the land. He had helped you up and sat you directly in front of him, his one hand holding the reigns and the other settled on your waist. It had put you in an uncomfortable position, you couldn’t pull away from his wandering touch or you would tumble off of the horse. You had nearly collapsed in relief upon returning to your shack, your body slipping down the side of the horse and making for the front door in record time.

Your stomach turned when he followed you inside. He had greeted your father enthusiastically who in turn fell to his knees in a deep bow. You rushed to his side and slid your arms beneath his, helping him rise back up to his feet.

It was then that the horrible deal was made.

“I have saved your daughter’s life and in turn, I expect to be repaid.” He said after he recounted the tale of your rescue to your father.

“Repaid, my lord?” Your father asked, his voice wavering in fright, “I am afraid there isn’t much we lowly peasants could offer you.”

“It is not money I require, nor land, nor tax,”

“Then…what more could you request?”

“Your daughter’s hand, assuming she is untouched of course.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as soon as his words met your ears. Lord Ilseong was not much younger than your father, in fact, you were certain that had your father not been subjected to decades of hard labor he would not look as aged as he did now, his stature would resemble that of his lords’.

The sickness that brewed in your stomach was only made worse by the elation present on your father’s face. You could tell what he was thinking, being the father of the lady of the land would ensure the end of his days of work. He could find comfort and peace until the end of his days.

“But of course,” Your father nodded excitedly, “Forgive my questioning, but what could you want with a peasant girl?”

“The previous lady was unable to birth me a son before her untimely passing. Your daughter is young and not nearly as uncouth as the rest of this village and her upbringing while unfit for that of a lady has no doubt made her strong. She will surely give me many children, and with training, we shall break her into the life of a lady.”

You stood there, floored by the conversation that transpired before you. Your maidenhood and your liveliness were being haggled as if you had no say as if you weren’t even there. He spoke of breaking you like a mare and reducing you to nothing more than a child bearer.

“She has certainly passed marrying age, I am doing you an immense favor by marrying her, really.”

“An immense favor, indeed,” Your father mused, his hand cupping his chin as he pretended to be deep in thought despite already having made his decision, “Consider it done.”

You felt as if you were on the verge of fainting.

“Excellent, I shall send for my new bride in a week's time, until then I shall make preparations for the ceremony,” He said with a triumphant grin that told you that he was all too accustomed to getting what he wanted. “Until then, my dear.”

In a matter of moments, your life had been irrevocably changed. And at that moment, you desperately hoped that the reaper would find you first and dispatch you before Lord Ilseong would ever have the chance of taking you.

You shivered in disgust as the lord left a parting kiss on your hand before shutting the door after him. You frantically wiped your knuckles against your patched skirts before running to your room. You could hear your father calling after you, demanding you to stop but you did not listen.

The yelling only continued when your mother returned home. You could hear your parents fighting the entire night, your father raising his voice over your mothers as he explained what this marriage could do for your family. Your mother understood your plight, she too was against the idea of your being wed to a man twice, almost thrice your age.

But at the end of the day, your father’s decision reigned supreme. There was a hierarchy to all things, to society, to work, and of course to families. You were to be wed, regardless of your and your mother’s protests.

Your fingers traced over the red-inked mark on your thigh, the imprint of the reaper still there with nowhere else to go. You relayed your thoughts as you traced the mark, a mantra barely parting your lips as you begged for the reaper to find you first.

Your index finger traced the lower curve of the circle that surrounded the symbol, and just there you could feel the raised bumps of a word, of a name.

Jungkook.

~~~~~~~

That was what had landed you where you were now, seated in a carriage sent by Lord Ilseong and dressed in pristine, elaborate robes.

It was your wedding day, it was supposed to be the happiest day of your life but you could not help but entertain the thought of throwing yourself from the carriage and allowing your body to be crushed beneath its wheels. While that seemed dramatic, you knew that the only way you could escape that old man was by death. He was a Lord, he took what he wanted and didn’t stop until he obtained it, and that included yourself.

Your stomach churned with nausea, not only from the ceaseless swaying of the transportation but from the ever-present anxiety you had felt all week which had come to a climax on this very day.

Perhaps, if you were lucky, he would take many mistresses and would be satisfied with them after you birthed him a son and he would leave you alone for the rest of your days. And maybe if you were even luckier he would die within ten years' time - stricken by disease or the halt of his heart. But you could only dream, dreaming would get you through this inevitable endless nightmare.

The reaper had not come to save your soul.

That was what you had reasoned, your untimely death would save your soul from being tainted by his lordship. You would much rather die young than be bound to that man for the remainder of his days. You would much rather be impaled by the cool steel of a blade than ever allow him to touch you again.

You allowed your body to go limp against the side of the carriage, the cool spring breeze soothing over your face like a gentle caress. You were in the thick of the woods now, the winding branches of the trees casting twisted shadows over everything below them. They looked like snares just waiting for the right prey to wander into them.

After that thought entered your mind, everything changed. In the blink of an eye, an array of arrows were let loose, flying into the wheels of the carriage and sending it careening off to its side.

You shrieked in surprise and fright as the carriage was easily tipped over, your body following immediately causing you to slam down all of your weight against your right shoulder and the other carriage door which now lay against the ground.

You cried out in pain as your body thrummed in shock from the fall, your head ringing from the collision against the door. You could feel a stickiness in your hair causing you to raise your hand to touch your scalp, and when your fingers retreated they were coated with thick, red, blood.

A gurgled scream had you snapping back to awareness. That had to have been the driver, you could just faintly make out his form, from the small slatted windows toward the front of the carriage, which was steadily slumping forward as all life was rapidly draining from him.

“What?” You gasped as you struggled to sit up, all of your weight resting on your bent forearms as your vision blurred. You had hit your head well.

The carriage shook with a loud thump, your throat tightening in fright as you heard several more steady thumps follow. Someone had landed on top of it, they were coming for you.

You hissed as you were blinded by a sudden burst of light, the other carriage door that was now above you had been wrenched open. As you blinked away the stinging sensation in your eyes you realized that you were no longer alone.

There was a man standing above you, straddling the entrance to the door. He was clothed from head to toe in black cloth and leather, his left arm bare and exposed, and a mask covering his mouth and nose. All that you could make of his face was the glinting metal pierced through his eyebrow, both of which were furrowed in what was concern but came across as intimidating.

“Stay away from me!” You yelled, your head throbbing in response to your shouts.

The man shook his head silently before settling into a squat and gripping the door of the carriage in one hand before leaning inside and grabbing the sleeve of your robes. Now that he was nearer you were able to make out the stitched symbol on his shoulder that you hadn’t been able to see before - a red skull, sword, and snake.

He was a reaper.

You didn’t know whether to struggle or flee due to the fact that your whispered wishes in the night had suddenly come true. The reaper had come for you first, Lord Ilseong would not have you. Due to your plight your body had frozen, your mind overloaded by your sudden realization.

The reaper - Jungkook, took the opportunity to swiftly pull you out of the carriage and gently set you down on the soft grass. You stared at him dumbly as he dropped into a squat in front of you, his hands taking hold of your face and maneuvering it so he could assess your head wound. He tisked to himself in displeasure, his fingers lightly prodding the area around the wound forcing a wince and a groan out of you.

“Poor little lamb,” He hummed, his fingers retreating only to lightly trace down the curve of your jaw.

“Please, if you’re going to kill me do it quickly, and don’t make me suffer. Let me die with dignity.” You said, boldly grabbing his hand and pulling it away from your face.

You had heard tales in your village, tales of what some of the reapers had done to some poor unfortunate girls - stealing their innocence and leaving them behind to deal with the burdens that have been relinquished to them whether they had been marked or not. The marked girls were luckier than most - their pain ended along with their life.

Jungkook cocked his head to the side in curiosity. He was not stupid, he knew what you were asking. But what truly puzzled him, was why you would think he would do something like that. If he had wanted to kill you he would have done it that very day he had met you.

“Mea Lunatta,” He replied despite knowing you could not understand him, “My wife.”

With that, he scooped you up into his strong arms and began to walk deeper into the trees. Your body went limp, you knew very well there was no way you could fight a born killer, it would be futile. Instead, you stared ahead, the light disappearing as he walked, his grip firm and strong. Although the woods were quiet you could not shake the chill that curled around your spine, you could feel that you were being watched. And you were not wrong, all it took was a little concentration and your eyes adjusting to the dim light before you saw it.

There were eyes in the trees.

~~~~~~~

Jungkook had finally come of age. At the age of twenty-five, he was finally permitted to partake in the hunt.

The hunt was an annual occurrence, it happened like clockwork every spring. The reapers lived far from the villages, deep in the woods in their homes they had built all in a clustered community. And because of this reclusiveness, they often operated much like the predators of the woods. And that contributed to the start of the hunts. Every spring, like animals in rut, they hunted for partners - for wives.

On the first of spring they dispersed, all the men that were twenty-five or older, and searched for their prospective partner.

Jungkook had found you that first morning, on a cold spring day. He had heard you humming to yourself in the early hours of the morning. The small piles of melting snow glittered with the golden light of the steadily rising sun. You were hanging up white sheets on a clothesline, the fabric fluttering around you from the cool breeze. You looked absolutely breathtaking, like an angel shrouded in white with golden rays.

From that moment on, he knew he had to have you. And as protocol instructed, he followed you around for the next several weeks. He grew attached. You radiated a warmth he had never felt before with your gentle smile and kind words. It was a warmth he wanted to steal for himself, a warmth that he could not bear the thought of sharing with anyone else.

He found it endearing, how shy you were. But you were oh so tempting. He liked to think that you were inviting him into your room when you left your window unlatched, you were just too bashful to say anything. So he took the opportunity to sneak inside whenever you “allowed” him to. He wasn’t embarrassed to admit that he had rummaged through your things while you slept mere inches away. It had become a habit of his ever since he had trained to become a reaper, to learn all he could about a person.

He learned that you were a bookworm from the hidden stories he found tucked behind your dresser, the pages creased and torn with love from the continuous thumbing through them.

He learned you loved flowers from the blossoms he found pressed between those pages, bright blooms of daffodils, violets, and buttercups greeting him.

He learned you often went hungry from the lack of food in your family's pantry.

So began the second stage of the hunt, the courting. You seemed puzzled but unconcerned from the sudden discoveries of presents left on your window sill. By all means, you were delighted by the short stories, the bundles of wildflowers, and the occasional carefully wrapped veal and loaves of bread. Your excited smiles were enough to make his heart thump in his chest.

And so the courting continued until the week before the ceremony. That was where he was finally permitted to touch you, to mark you.

The marking always occurred one week before the new moon, the date on which the official hunt would take place. The mark of the reaper meant different things depending on where it was placed on a person’s body, something which outsiders were typically unaware of.

A mark on the wrist meant the mark of death.

A mark on the chest signified that you were a reaper.

And a mark on the thigh was reserved only for potential spouses - for a wife in Jungkook’s case.

Jungkook hadn’t anticipated that a lord would be in the area that day, nonetheless, Hell’s Hollow as the reapers referred to it. And he certainly could not have anticipated that said lord would come to your aid. Jungkook would have fled, taking you with him had he been permitted to do so. But there were rules he had to follow.

The first rule was that he was not permitted to speak to outsiders. Although you were marked, you weren’t considered to be one of them and you were not allowed to have any knowledge of what was to come.

The second rule was that after the marking, he was not permitted to see his potential spouse until the night of the hunt.

The third rule was that the official hunt always took place on the new moon. The lack of moonlight gave the potential spouses an advantage - the darkness created a new challenge for the reaper that was seeking them.

And the fourth rule was the most important of them all: if the runner made it outside of the reaper’s territory they would be given their freedom - no strings attached.

That was a rule that made his heart clench uncomfortably. It was a rule engrained in tradition, if you were to best him, prove yourself capable, he would have to let you go. Despite what most of the villagers believed, reapers were bound by their honor and if they were to break those rules they would be dishonoring their brethren, and they would be exiled.

But the thought of that didn’t frighten him nearly as much as the thought of you successfully evading him. He knew he had an advantage, he had been tracking marks his entire life, he was confident that he would be able to capture you before you broke the boundaries of their territory. He couldn’t afford to doubt himself, doubt leads to mistakes and mistakes led to failure.

He would not fail.

You were surprisingly still in his hold as he trekked through the forest. He had expected you to put up more of a fight, to try and flee. But he had forgotten that you were indeed smart, you most likely knew you would not be able to escape him like this, especially now. Pride swelled within him at the thought of how clever you were, but at the same time worry quelled in his mind, your cleverness might take you away from him.

He glanced down at you several times as he continued your journey, he would be lying if he were to say you were not distracting. You smelled fresh and clean with a lingering scent of oils that had been rubbed into your skin which was practically glowing, especially with the added intricacy of the garments you wore. They were familiar to him, the style, the embroidery, it was from someone he knew. Someone he wished he didn’t know. And that greatly confused him, but not as much as the sight of you inside that carriage that they had planned to attack. They had thought the lord himself would be inside, departing the village with collected taxes. But instead, you were there, his chosen.

He could feel the eyes of his comrades in the trees, burning into his back. This was something he had been trying to avoid.

Jungkook was strong and he was promising, it was well known knowledge that once the leader of their troupe stepped down he would be in the running for the position, a position that was highly sought after. And while Jungkook had many friends, brothers, amongst the reapers, he had just as many enemies. So what better way to scorn him than by stealing his chosen?

They all knew now, and he was certain that they would be hunting you alongside him tonight.

That was a part of the hunt, after all, to challenge themselves. Reapers that were of age that did not bring a chosen partner would hunt from the pool if they wished to. And if they died in the process, the reaper that killed them would go unpunished. Jungkook was certain he would have to kill for you tonight, and that thought did not bother him.

Your body suddenly tensed in his arms and in turn he stopped, immediately going on the defensive. He could feel you shrinking back into his chest in utter fear, harsh pants of breath parting your lips in pure fright.

“Wolves.” You gasped, your hand involuntarily squeezing his bicep.

A loud snap severed the silence of the forest and from the bushes emerged a wolf. It had the brightest blue eyes and pitch black fur, standing as tall as a horse.

“Direwolf,” He said, a word that was the same in your language.

You shrieked as he began to walk forward, your body wriggling for the first time since he had grabbed you. He hushed you, patting your back as he neared the wolf. The wolf did not appear to be aggressive, in fact, it seemed quite relaxed, even happy at the sight of Jungkook. Its massive tail swung slowly in excitement as it walked beside Jungkook, consciously slowing its pace so it did not overtake him.

“My wolf,” He explained. He knew very well that you could not understand, but he could not remain silent, he wished to speak to you.

The Direwolves had become their companions, they respected one another's borders and in turn, had formed a close relationship with select reapers. The Direwolves guarded their campgrounds, and in turn, the reapers ensured they would be fed in the barren days of winter. The Direwolves were the reason why no one ever tried to ambush them, they’re massive bodies, fanged teeth, and tough skin made them an impossible adversary.

They were incredibly good at keeping people inside as well.

His wolf made a good guide, leading the way into the campgrounds. The sun was nearly set, the forest growing impenetrably dark on these short spring days. It would not be long before the hunt started and he still needed to prepare you.

The campgrounds were fairly empty, not many reapers or families milling about. They all knew what tonight marked and they were all preparing in their own ways. The wolf followed behind closely, coming to stop and sitting by his cabin, his bright blue eyes steady and alert.

You began to struggle again as he crossed the threshold, the missing presence of the wolf instilling your instincts to fight once more.

“Put me down!” You yelled through gritted teeth, your irritation from being carried around like a rag doll boiling to the surface.

You could see his jaw clench beneath the cover of his mask, you were making him angry.

He slammed the door shut behind him before setting you down, leaning against the only exit to make sure you wouldn’t try to leave before it was time.

“I won’t let you touch me,” You said with a shake of your head, “And I won’t go down without a fight.”

You were impressed by the steadiness in your voice in spite of the deep-rooted fear you felt inside. You were not necessarily lying to him, you would make it as hard as possible for him despite knowing just how easily he could restrain you. You were terribly frightened.

His body shook with laughter, his eyes crinkling in amusement which only served to unsettle you as well as frustrate you. He too knew that your threats were useless, in fact, he found them to be adorable. But, he did not have any plans that were like what you were insinuating. He would not be able to do that until after he caught you, fair and square. Not until you were his wife.

He crossed his strong arms over his chest, leaning back in a relaxed manner against the door before nodding his head in the direction of the table where a white garment was folded on top.

“Change.” He instructed.

You looked between him and the table before shaking your head, “No.”

He cocked his head to the side, his pierced eyebrow raising in questioning at your defiance. He pulled down his mask and let it rest around his neck before he spoke again.

“Change,” He smirked before sliding a knife out of his leg sheath, “Or I will do it for you.”

You didn’t have to speak his language in order to understand what he was insinuating. He would have no problems slashing your clothes into ribbons so you would have no other choice but to wear what he was giving you.

You could feel your eyes burning with unshed tears that were threatening to pool over. Whenever you became overwhelmed with emotion you cried, especially when you were angry and you hated that so much. You sniffled pitifully and rubbed at the skin beneath your eyes, the playful smirk immediately dropping off of Jungkook’s face as he took a step in your direction.

“Look away,” You snapped, stepping backward and grabbing the plain fabric from the table.

Jungkook seemed distressed, his lips pressing together in worry as he watched you. But, after a few moments, he nodded and faced the door to give you your privacy. That was at least one kindness that could be afforded.

You were woefully embarrassed to not only be changing in the same room as a man, but also by the attire he had provided you with. It was a dress that was thin and breathable with loose angel sleeves as well as a skirt that ended mid calf, it was made to offer mobility and comfort. You felt horribly exposed, the dress far too scandalous to be anything but sleep wear. You felt naked, in your village this would be just as bad as being naked.

But it was either this, or nothing at all.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked, and despite your attempts, worry penetrated your words.

He looked over his shoulder before slowly turning to face you, his dark eyes roaming over your body from head to toe in what could only be described as appreciation. He didn’t answer you, and from what you understood that was in his character. Instead he approached you and in turn you took several steps back until you were halted by the table behind you. He advanced and did not stop until there was barely an inch of space left in between you two.

Your harsh swallow was cacophonous in the quiet cabin, your gaze was turned downward in an attempt to avoid his eyes.

He softly lifted your head up with his thumb and forefinger on your chin, forcing you to look at him. Your hands gripped the table behind you in response, your eyes flickering off to the side in anxiety.

“I’m going to love you,” he whispered with a soothing tone as he retrieved a small silver jar from behind you filled with red pigment, “I’m going to protect you, and if anyone tries to take you from me I’ll slaughter them without hesitation.”

He gently smoothed your eyelids shut and proceeded to paint the red pigment over your eyes, over the crests of your cheekbones, and dragged down the hollows beneath your eyes. Even without seeing it, you could recognize the pattern as the same one he wore on his face in coal dust.

“You are mine, and I am yours,” He said while cupping your cheeks tenderly and pressing his forehead against yours.

After Jungkook had finished preparing you, he grabbed you be the hand and lead you out of the house. The Direwolf was still there and it continued to follow the two of you around like, well like an overgrown puppy.

Jungkook’s grip was firm but not painful, it was meant to keep you by his side. It was dark out, the dirt paths just barely lit by a line of torches leading toward the center of the ground where a massive until bonfire was constructed. And surrounding the unlit fire was a massive crowd of reapers as well as women dressed almost identically to yourself.

Your heart clenched in your chest, what was coming next? Were you going to be sacrificed? Roasted and cannibalized? Whatever is was, it wasn’t going to be good for you.

You dug your heels into the ground, surprisingly, startling Jungkook. He turned to face you, the light of the torches glinting off of his piercing and the red hue of his lips. You hated to admit it, but he was painfully beautiful. With a strong jaw, prominent brows, dark eyes, and pouty lips, he was the most attractive man you had ever seen. He looked as if he belonged among nobility, not here, in the middle of the woods with a bunch of wild men.

“Please,” You whispered, stepping closer so he could hear, “I need to know what’s going to happen to me.”

His jaw clenched, his lips pressed firmly together in thought. There was a beat of silence before he warily looked around and flipped your palm over so it was facing the sky. And then, he began to trace patterns, no, letters over the surface of your palm.

You focused, memorizing the letters and stringing them together in your mind until they formed coherent words. Words that sent a violent chill throughout your entire body.

“Run, don’t hide.”

~~~~~~~

The bonfire roared to life behind you as you sprinted through the forest, an eerie red glow casting long shadows all around you. The women that hadn’t figured out what was happening right away were far behind you, you had been granted a head start. But you knew that time was precious, eventually the reapers would descend and if they didn’t manage to catch you, you didn’t want to imagine was the Direwolves would do to you.

You could only imagine that this was how they entertained themselves. Perhaps someone had not hired Jungkook to kill you, but instead like an apex predator he desired to hunt you. This had to be a game for them, whoever slaughtered the most people won.

But then why did he tell you to keep running and not to hide? To lengthen the game? Or, if you hid, would the others find you? Did he want to claim your life instead?

Your legs and arms burned with exertion as you ran, the cool earth soggy and soft beneath your shoes that were most definitely not made for running. They were a size too small and pinched you in all of the worst places sending searing pain throughout the bottoms of your feet. You debated kicking them off but thought better of that, the nights were still freezing and if you managed to make it out of this alive you would prefer to keep all ten of your toes.

Despite your head start you could still hear everything that happened behind you. You could hear the other women screaming and fighting for their lives and that only served as motivation, forcing you to push yourself past your limits and sprint faster than you ever had before.

A scream parted your lips as a large black mass shot out of the trees and just barely brushed against you. You stumbled but did not fall and continued running but you couldn’t stop yourself from looking over your shoulder. Black fur and piercing blue eyes, it was Jungkook’s wolf who was pinning a reaper down to the ground. You watched as he snarled and lunged for the man’s neck and crushed it with one snap of it’s jaws before slowly dragging the corpse back into the trees and ripping his throat open. His blood rolled down his neck and practically sizzled from the cold air.

Your stomach turned and your throat tightened, you were definitely running slower now from your nausea and the muscle fatigue. How had you not noticed the wolf tracking you? Or the reaper? They both had been perfectly silent, one with the forest, and you had not even realized that man had been less than a foot behind you.

You were out of your depth, you were going to die.

Your body had been rife with adrenaline at the beginning of this horrible race, and that still was present especially after what you had just experienced. But your mind was contesting your body and you were horribly frightened and confused.

In your panicked state and the deep darkness of the night, you had failed to see it. A wire had been strung up and the minute you ran through it your ankles were caught, you tripped and fell and the wire wrapped smoothly around you ankles: binding them together.

Someone had set traps before the start of the hunt, they had done something that felt an awful lot like cheating.

“No!” You cried, smacking your palm over your mouth from the volume, “No, no, no, please no,” You whispered.

You flipped yourself onto your back and sat upright, your hands instantly pulling at the wire and attempting to unravel it from your ankles. You hissed in pain, a stray tear falling from your eye as the wire slashed at the delicate skin of your palms - crimson blood beading up and slipping from the wound.

You clenched your jaw tight to muffle your sounds of discomfort and got to work, whimpering at each slice as you pried the wire open and unwound it painstakingly slow. You grunted under your breath as you pulled it free, a clear indent left in the flesh of your ankles that was bloody and fresh. You let out a soft breath of relief before turning over onto your hands and knees, attempting to stand back up so that you could continue your escape.

Before you could move any farther a boot connected with your back, forcing your down to the ground like a helpless bug. A sharp wheeze left your lungs as pain radiated through your back, your fingers curling into the dirt beneath you as you tried to drag yourself out from underneath whoever was pinning you down.

“There you are,” The man said with a pleased tone in the language you spoke.

You cried out as he wove his gloved fingers into your hair and sharply yanked your head up by causing shocks of pain to blossom over your scalp. He turned your head to face him, his other hand tightly grasping your cheeks.

“Oh yeah, you’re Jungkook’s bitch,” He laughed, “You’re pretty too, that’ll make this hurt even more.”

“Please, please let me go! I swear you’ll never see me again, I just want to go home!” You cried, emotion swelling up in your chest to the point where you couldn’t stop yourself from crying.

You hated crying, you wanted to be strong but fuck, you were so scared. You knew that you were moments from dying, this had to be it and you weren’t ready.

“And that’s exactly what I can’t have, what better way to piss that asshole off than to steal his woman from him? To make him see you everyday knowing I rightfully won you and he can’t do anything about it? Hell, I could even fuck you against the side of his house if I wanted to and he wouldn’t be able to do a fucking thing about it.”

His woman? His woman?

You suddenly came to realize a horrific thought. They weren’t hunting for sport, they were hunting for wives.

“You’re a little older than I would have liked, but I’ll make do,” He sneered, flipping you over onto your back and straddling your waist.

“Stop, let go of me!” You screamed, wriggling underneath him and hitting whatever part of his body you could reach. You caught him by surprise, your nails catching on his skin and dragging down over his face drawing blood beneath them.

“You fucking bitch!” He yelled, wiping the blood from his face before grasping your wrists and pinning them down to the ground and above your head.

“I was going to be nice to you, ya know? But now, now I’m going to make you suffer,” He spat, the veins in his neck bulging with rage.

You screamed, panicked sobs filling the air as he gripped your hands with one of his own, the other going for the waist of his pants. You knew what was coming next, you had heard the stories of what they did and all you could do was cry and struggle beneath him, he had you pinned well.

You clenched your eyes shut, your lashes clumping together from the amount of tears you had shed. You didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see what was about to happen.

In a last ditch effort, a small ember of hope, you screamed once more, “Jungkook!”

And it was all over in a flash. A warm, thick, wetness sprayed over your face - a coppery taste misting over your lips as a gurgled, choked cry sounded from above you before the weight of the man fell off of you.

You kept your eyes closed, still too afraid to move, your body was completely frozen against your own desire to flee. You jolted at the feeling of fingers ghosting over your cheek, fingers that were rough and coated with something that felt tacky.

Warily, you opened your eyes. It was Jungkook. His mask was pulled down around his neck again, his expression was one of panic and rage. You swallowed harshly as he wiped away your tears and whatever was coating your face. You allowed yourself to take in the sight of him from head to toe and you were met with the startling realization that he was covered in blood. His forearms, his palms, his chest, and his boots, and not to mention the light smattering over his sharp jawline.

He had killed many people tonight.

Your eyes wandered behind him and on the ground a lifeless corpse was splayed out. It was the man that had captured you, his throat was savagely slashed so deeply you thought you could see bone.

You frantically began to rub at your face, the white sleeves of your dress stained with dirt and blood rubbing roughly against your skin. You were certain your face would be raw by the time you were done.

You hadn’t even realized you were panicking, frantically mumbling sentences that didn’t make sense as you attacked your own face, until he spoke.

“Sh, sh, sh,” He hushed you, pulling your hands from your face, “It’s over, you’re safe now.”

Your body froze, it took you a few moments to realize that you could understand him, this was the first time he had spoken your language.

“Please, I want to go home now,” You whispered, your hands limp beneath his as your shoulders shook.

“I’ll take you home,” He nodded, standing up and helping you to your feet. Your knees were still weak, your ankles protesting as they continued to bleed. You were sure they were going to get infected at this rate.

“You’re hurt?” He asked, his voice much softer than you had anticipated. You merely nodded in response.

He recognized those marks, they were from a specific snare that only reapers used. And, on the night of the hunt, they were banned. His jaw clenched in anger, he was trying his best not to explode, not to scare you. His rage would be wasted, after all he had already killed that bastard and his little band of low-lives. Just as he had suspected, they were all after you that night.

He stepped forward, opening his arms to pick you up. You jerked away, your body still trying to protect you - not sensing that the danger had passed. Or was it right? Jungkook was one of them, he had marked you, brought you here, he was just as dangerous.

“I won’t hurt you,” He said, trying to keep his voice calm and soothing, “You need my help.”

As reluctant as you were to admit it, he was right, you wouldn’t be able to walk all the way back with him, you were in far too much pain. You nodded slowly before inching towards him and allowing him to gently cradle you to his chest.

Jungkook paused once he adjusted you in his hold. Your face was still stained just as badly as the rest of him despite your frantic attempts to clean yourself. The makeup that has once been on your face was smudged and dissolved by your tears. But, you had made it. He knew he chose you for a reason, you had ran the farthest, you had outrun so many men and the ones you couldn’t he and his wolf dispatched.

His heart thumped in anxiety as he looked over his shoulder where the bloody snare laid. You had been so close.

Another two feet, and you would have broken their borders and had been free to go.

~~~~~~~

The bonfire was still burning just as strongly as it had been at the start of the hunt. That led you to believe that it had not lasted as long as you thought it would. The reapers were proficient hunters and killers just like the Direwolves that protected their lands. It was foolish to believe that anything about this would have been challenging for them.

Upon your arrival you were met with the sight of a substantial crowd. All of your fellow runners were there each in a different state of despair and disbelief. But besides them, there were many newcomers that you had not seen before. There were families, large families. Mother’s occupied with their babies, young children giggling as they chased one another, and the glowing eyes of the Direwolves surveying, their massive bodies folded into themselves as they laid on the ground by the tree line.

They were on guard, not from outside threats, but guarding the way out. It would be suicide for anyone who tried to leave. You had seen what those wolves could do, you would not dare try to leave with them here.

“What is this?” You asked Jungkook who had set you down on a soft cushion a fair distance from the fire.

“A celebration,” He explained “For good fortune and prosperous futures.”

Prosperous futures? What future could anyone have after this? That was of course, if he was lying to you. If he didn’t know that you knew what all of this was really about.

“So it has nothing to do with the fact that you chose me to be your wife?”

Jungkook flinched, his doe eyes widening in surprise before a small smile crept onto his lips, “You figured it out then? I knew you were smart, that was one of the reasons I chose you. I could see the cleverness in those eyes from a mile away.”

You shifted uncomfortably underneath his stare before straightening your spine, attempting to appear far more confident than you felt.

“I’m not yours, I never will be.”

His lips twitched into a frown, “You were mine the second I laid eyes on you. You accepted my gifts, my proposal, and I caught you fairly. This may not be conventional in your village but it is tradition in mine. You bare my mark, you followed me here willingly, and we completed the ceremony. You are mine and I am yours in a way that is far more binding than any church could declare. Do you understand me?”

He was thoroughly angered, you could practically feel the heat simmering off of him, stronger than the fire that was not too far away. You watched as he stood, dragging one of several large barrels filled to the brim with water over to you. He grabbed a spare cloth and dunked it into the water before dropping down to his knees and beginning to clean your hands and feet, removing the dirt and blood from beneath your nails and the wounds on your ankles.

You watched him work for a moment, his brows furrowed in irritation as well as focus. Behind him several reapers watched on in astonishment, several looks of surprise as well as disapproval coloring their features.

“Why are they staring at us?” You whispered, curling into yourself from the attention.

“It is tradition for the spouse to cleanse the reaper after the ceremony, not the other way around,” He mumbled, grabbing a new cloth for your face.

His intense, dark eyes bore into your own as he cleaned the blood from your cheeks, “I am willing to break tradition for you, rules for you, does that not prove that I am yours as much as you are mine?”

Your heart thumped against your will. Adoring words like those should not leave the mouth of a killer so easily.

“I can’t be yours.”

“And why is that?”

“I,” You swallowed harshly, the words burning your tongue before your could even form them, “I am promised to Lord Ilseong.”

Fire blossomed in his eyes, those dark coals igniting in an instant. You had never seen hatred grow so quickly in a man or woman’s eyes before and it genuinely frightened you.

“Lord Ilseong?” He hissed, his strong shoulders squared and tensed.

“Y-yes,” You stuttered, unnerved by the sudden shift in demeanor, “He will come for me, you must know that. I am his betrothed.”

Jungkook said nothing, instead he quickly rose to his feet and grabbed you firmly by the wrist, pulling you in the direction of his cabin where his wolf still laid in waiting. You struggled to keep up with his pace, stumbling over your own feet as you were nearly dragged by him into his home.

“What are you doing?! You said you would take me home!”

“And I did not lie to you, this is home, our home now.”

“Lord Ilseong-”

“Say his name one more time,” He warned as he fixed you with an intense glare, “One more time, and I’ll make sure mine is the only one you’ll be able to remember.”

You froze, your body refusing to move as you were pinned in place by his intimidating glare. You had been tossed from one fire into another. From one lecherous old man to a wild young one. You had yet to decide which was worse.

“Why do you hate him so?” You asked, surprised you were able to voice such a question when he was clearly on edge.

He laughed, a bitter and cruel sound. You could see his shoulders shaking in barely contained rage. He did not hate him, he loathed his entire existence.

“Why do I hate him?” He echoed, his jaw clenched tightly, “Lord Ilseong is my father.”

You couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping, he had taken you completely by surprise. Jungkook looked nothing like Lord Ilseong, Jungkook was far too beautiful. But, if you looked hard enough, the faintest traces of him were there, in his jaw and brow, but for the most part you could conclude that Jungkook was blessed with his mother’s features.

“That…that’s not possible! The lady was never able to conceive a child. Lord Ilseong has no children.”

“None that were legitimate. No, I am his bastard. And I had quite a few siblings to show for his unfaithfulness. He sought out any pretty face he could and took them with or without their regard. That is something that all reapers have in common, we are the rejected children of nobility and we have come to reap what they have sown.”

You could see it now. Many of the reapers you had seen at the fire were painfully attractive, the offspring of beautiful people who had been abused and taken advantage of. And in turn they were rejected by those who had given them life. But just like the nobility they had been born from, they too were tainted with corruption, that much was evidenced by your capture and what had almost transpired before Jungkook had slain that man in the forest.

“That is why he wishes to marry me, to finally have a legitimate child to continue his legacy.” You confirmed. You had thought before he was a perverted old man, and that much was true, but he had much bigger plans.

“He what?!” Jungkook was seething.

“That was what he told my father, he wished for me to give him many children.”

As soon as you were finished speaking, you could see him snap. He grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you to the back of the house where his bedroom was. He slammed the door shut and pushed you firmly in the chest causing you to stumble back onto his bed.

“He has taken everything from me, but this I will finally take from him.” He said, tugging your skirt up just as he had done the week before spurring a squeal from your lips.

The red mark was still there on your thigh. No amount of scrubbing from you or your mother has managed to remove it from you skin. You gasped as he dropped to his knees and leaned over you, pressing a fervent kiss to the mark while his hand gripped your other thigh.

“This means that you are mine, I found you first, I chose you first. You have a purpose here, you are important here. Make no mistake I am not giving you a choice, you will not return to him. But if you try to run know this, a life with him will be one of misery and suffering. Here, I am offering you my love, my soul, whatever it is you desire. But in return I desire the same. And if you were to offer those to anyone else I would kill them without hesitation.”

You sat there in shock. Never had a man ever knelt before you in such a position, in submission. No man had ever declared such a violent love for you.

You knew, despite Jungkook’s vehement denial, that you did have choices and there were three.

The first was to return with Lord Ilseong when he inevitably came for you. And what would come of that. A life of misery, Jungkook had said. You would be doomed to marry a man nearly thrice your age, endure a horrific wedding night and several more like it until you missed your cycle, and then give birth. And that would continue over and over again until he died, an endless cycle to ensure he would have a pool of children to choose from in the event that his first born perished or, worse in his eyes, was a girl. And the thought of him, his wrinkled hands, touching your body had your stomach churning. You would rather fight the Direwolves.

The second was to run, to go back home. But that posed several problems. For one, your father would never take you back. You would become his greatest disappointment just as quickly as you had become his pride. He would send for Lord Ilseong and your fate would be sealed. Or, more likely, Jungkook would find you first. And you knew then that your family would no longer be safe.

The third option, the final option, was just as difficult as the first. And that was to stay with Jungkook and his reapers. To be his wife. You would be trapped with the man who had captured you, who had stolen you from your home. You would stand by for years on end, watching the cycle continue as people were either slaughtered for money, or were captured to be wed. But, you would still have some freedom. You wouldn’t be “broken like a mare” as his lordship has said. You would still be where you thrived, in nature. And your “husband” would not be an old decrepit man. As unwilling as you were to admit it, the thought of Jungkook touching you was not entirely repulsive. Had he been another village boy, had he been sweet, innocent, and kind, you would have jumped at the chance to be betrothed to him.

Jungkook was the lesser of evils.

“Let me have you,” He said, his hands stroking slowly up and down the expanse of your thighs which had pressed themselves together tightly out of not only anxiety but something else all together. It was a horrible, addicting blend.

And you couldn’t help but think to yourself, what better way to spite that old man than to lose your innocence to his bastard. You knew that Lord Ilseong would come, without a doubt he would not let you be free. But when he came with his army and slaughtered the reapers you would be free. Jungkook would be dead and the Lord would not take you, you who were no longer a virgin and tainted by his illegitimate son. Jungkook was right, you were clever.

You finally met his gaze, his head still craned up to look at you. There was something enticing about having a powerful man on his knees. You had never had power, you were always the pawn.

And so, when his hands moved higher, fiddling with the hem of your undergarments, you did not stop him. As nervous as you were, frightened as you were, this was a part of your plan and you would see through it. You would do it if it meant you could have your freedom.

And anyone else was better than Ilseong. Especially the attractive man that knelt before you like a devout worshiper at his altar. If you were lucky, he would not make it hurt.

A desperate sigh left his lips as he rolled your skirt up over your hips and hastily removed your undergarments before pulling you to the edge of his bed and forcing your legs over his shoulders as his head disappeared in between your thighs.

You shrieked in surprise as you felt his lips meet the skin of your inner thigh. His hands were holding your hips tightly, preventing you from moving as he left long, lingering kisses there. His lips were surprisingly soft, wet, and warm, creating an unfamiliar ache at the apex of your thighs. Your hips twitched without your permission, writhing in an attempt to get him to do something your body understood better than your mind. His soft laugh vibrated against your thigh, his dark eyes shooting up to look at you in a way that could only be described as mischievous before he ducked his head down and his lips met a place you had not dared to touch.

A cry of shock broke free from your lips, your head falling back and your chest heaving in pleasure.

“W-what? Jungkook wait-” You stuttered in confusion, your words easily silenced by the strokes of his tongue.

The entire inner workings of what happened between a husband and wife on their wedding night was a mystery to you. And that was not your fault. Mothers and fathers often kept that from their daughters, too afraid to tell them too much lest they learn how to rid themselves of their virginity before they marry. Your mother had told you enough the day you were to be sent to Lord Ilseong, but this, this was a far cry from what she had told you.

Despite your pleas he did not slow down, in fact he only became that much more enthusiastic. Your arms turned to jello, collapsing out from underneath you sending your back down to the mattress as your legs shook around his head. You could feel him groaning against you sending vibrations all throughout your core, it was like he was the one receiving immense pleasure and not you.

It felt like he wanted to devour you.

He broke away once to catch his breath, his shoulders heaving as he panted.

“So pretty for me,” He mumbled, his voice much lower than before and riddled with lust.

You jolted with a strangled moan as he pressed a long, lingering kiss to that place once more before his fingers firmly stroked up and down the length of your sex, just barely sinking in to your entrance in a teasing manner that had your hips bucking pitifully against his iron grip. He would to decided to give you what you needed when he wanted to. The chase had been great fun, but the capture was the true reward and he planned to thoroughly enjoy it.

“So sensitive,” He laughed, pushing your hips down, “Have you never been touched before?”

Your eyes were clenched shut, your mouth twisted into a frown as he continued his touches that still left behind a pleasant thrum but also an intense ache as he deliberately avoided every part that would provide you pleasure.

As soon as he realized you weren’t paying attention his withdrew his fingers and you could only whine from the lack of his touch.

“I asked you a question,” He said, very clearly waiting for your response.

“No,” You admitted despite your embarrassment.

His face was set with determination and glee, he was happy to know that he would have you first in every aspect.

You wriggled away from him as he stood up, joining you on the bed and attempting to remove your dress. You had never been exposed to someone else before and while you felt desire burning inside you the thought of him seeing you bare was frightening. But he smiled at your bashful actions and he knew that he would have to rid you of your clothes quickly.

You froze as he removed a very familiar knife from the strap on his leg, your heart beating louder than thunder. Maybe he had been planning to kill you all along, maybe he was finally going to do it.

But instead of killing you like you thought he would, he pulled your dress taut and with one impressive slash slit it open from the bottom to the top. Your chest heaved against the cool metal of the blade that now rested at your breasts - the feeling just as exhilarating as it was frightening.

“Easy, little lamb,” He cooed, setting the knife aside, “What use would I have for a lovely, dead, wife?”

You watched in awe as he stripped down, revealing every inch of honey skin and toned muscle. But, more surprisingly, and arm full of tattoos. He had always kept one arm bare and the other covered. The covered one hiding the collection of inked markings on his arm as well as the reaper’s mark on his chest, the mark that you shared with him on your thigh. He quickly noticed where your attention strayed to.

“Each one signifies something different. Some of them are milestones, ranks, and others represent kills,” He explained, grabbing your hand and resting it on his bicep, encouraging you to touch him.

Your fingers smoothed over the scarred skin, enraptured by the sight. You had never seen so many markings on one person. You could only assume Jungkook had killed many, many people.

He sighed at the feeling of your touch, eagerly wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you onto his lap, pressing your chest against his firmly so that there was no space left in between you two. Your body was rapidly heating up, the feeling of his strong thighs and hardened manhood beneath you only making the fire in your veins burn hotter.

He gently cradled your jaw with one hand, the other spread over your ribcage just beneath the swell of your breast. And, with a surprising tenderness, he pressed his lips against yours in a soft, slow, sweet kiss. But it did not remain soft for long, his hold grew firmer, his kisses more intense and hard like he could not get enough of you, like he needed you more than air itself.

And, with a flood of heat, you realized that he had kissed you in-between your legs before stealing your first kiss from your lips.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” He whispered against your mouth, misreading your trembling body, “I’ll never hurt you, I only want to pleasure you.”

And he followed through on his promise. You had never thought that hands that could bring death could also bring pleasure, but you had been mistaken. In the veil of darkness, under the absence of the moon, the two of you indulged in a night of debauchery.

You had been told that this night would be painful, that you would cry and wish it had never happened. But instead you had found immense satisfaction and a desire for more. While your life had been riddled with misfortune you had been granted one ounce of relief - Jungkook was a gifted lover. So gifted in fact that you found yourself unwilling to part from him, your hold on his body almost as strong as his grasp on you. Your nails had found themselves embedded in his back, raking down the once smooth skin and leaving marks of your own on him. You were certain that your inner thighs would be bruised from just how tightly you encircled his waist. You had allowed a part of yourself to escape that you did not recognize.

“My good little wife, taking me so well,” He had moaned into your ear, his hips desperately rutting against yours. “Absolutely perfect for me.”

And he continued on like that, whispering praises into your ear and bringing you to the edge over and over and over again, his stamina prevailing even as you weakly mewled and attempted to draw away from him, every inch of your body screaming in oversensitivity but even then that pain felt horribly good.

“You can take another, for me, I know you can handle it,” He growled out from behind gritted teeth, at this point he had become more animalistic than man.

“I can’t -”

“You can, and you will.”

That was something you had come to learn about Jungkook. He always followed through on his promises as well as his threats.

When he had finished for the second and final time he held you close to his chest, the scent of sweat and intimacy still fresh in the air as you unwillingly began to doze off, all of your energy completely drained from your body after not only the intense coupling but all of the energy you had expended prior running for your life.

But as you drifted off you were reminded of exactly why you had done this in the first place. You still were meant to leave, you still craved your freedom.

All it took was one sentence from Jungkook to remind you of your plan. As long as you stayed complacent you would never be free.

“I can’t wait to see what you’ll like, round with my children.”

This was what he had meant by “prosperous futures.”

~~~~~~~

The next morning you were abruptly awoken by the scent of smoke thick in the air and the sound of harsh pounding on the front door.

The space beside you was empty and faintly warm, Jungkook had been up for a little while. You could hear his voice now as well as another reaper’s.

“What is it?” Jungkook’s voice.

“We’ve spotted a decent band of soldiers a few miles out, they definitely belong to a nobleman from the crests they carry. They’ve set fire to the forests, they’re trying to burn everything down in sight - they’re either looking for us, someone else, or both.”

“How much time do we have?”

“Not much, the scouts we sent ahead have returned so I imagine that the soldiers can’t be that far behind. We’ve been ordered to to go ahead and assume our positions, the rest will evacuate.”

“Is that necessary?”

“For now, yes. For everyone else’s sake, they’ll only get in the way. Once we clean this mess up everyone will be escorted back. But we need you too, we can’t do it without you.”

“I understand,” Jungkook reluctantly said, “Thank you, Hoseok.”

You sat up in bed, the blanket tightly wrapped around your body as Jungkook came in. He looked distressed not because of the impending fight, that he was familiar with, but because you would be leaving. And while he wished he could trust you after what happened the night before, he knew that he couldn’t. When given the opportunity to flee, he was certain his little lamb would run for safer pastures.

He dressed you quickly, helping you pull on a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of pants, men’s clothing. You had never worn men’s clothing before.

“Easier to run in, if they come for you, you have to be ready to run.” He explained, bending down to help you lace up the boots on your feet.

“Don’t be afraid, Fang will protect you while I’m gone.”

“Fang?” You asked.

“My wolf.”

So, that was its name. How uncreative.

Jungkook paused, his brows pinched in stress as he looked at you. This was happening too quickly. He thought he had some time before Ilseong and his men would come, time that would get you to trust him.

He stepped forward, cradling your face before pressing his lips to yours again. You had found that each kiss with Jungkook was different and new. This one was desperate, this one felt like a promise, a promise to see you again.

“I love you,” He said, his dark eyes wide and glistening, “Come back to me.”

You could only stare back at him, you refused to make a promise you could not keep. You were going to try to leave if you could and you would not lie to him.

Fang was waiting outside, pacing impatiently and whining in the back of his throat. The Direwolf was agitated, you would be too if your home was burning.

“Follow him, he will take you somewhere safe. I will see you again, that is a promise.” Jungkook said before giving you one more final parting kiss and melting into the tree line.

Jungkook always followed through on his promises and his threats.

A few moments later you heard the cries of wounded men from the forest. The soldiers had arrived and they had not anticipated the reapers armed with bows and arrows high in the trees. It was foolish to try and ambush trained killers, that was something you had forgotten. The chances were that Jungkook would not die today, no, that army would. You had to move, now.

Fang moved swiftly beside you and, to your surprise, split off from the evacuating party. He was taking you somewhere else, perhaps a safe place the Jungkook had in case something like this were to happen. A place where he could find you again.

You were caught in a rock and a hard place. You had seen Fang tear into that reaper the night before, you had watched him consume him with no regret. He and Jungkook were bonded, but you were not. You did not want to test him and see if he would deliver upon you the same fate. It was another waiting game.

Your only other plan would be to follow him to the safe point and try and make your break from there. But, even then, you were certain that Direwolves had impeccable senses. And, like the reapers, Fang would have no problem hunting you.

The massive wolves' steps were hard to keep up with, you were practically jogging in an attempt to stay by his side. He was tense, his ears flicking now and then as he listened for a threat, his piercing blue eyes scanning the trees. Direwolves seemed far more human than regular wolves, especially with their intelligence.

Fang froze, sniffing the air rapidly before his hackles raised and a deep growl left him that was so loud it shook the ground beneath you. He backed up, his large body shielding your own as he waited for the threat to emerge.

And it was quite a threat. Lord Ilseong had not only sent one army but two. One surveying and burning one side of the forest, and another scouting the other side. And they too were armed, smaller than the other force, but still armed.

Fang lunged instantly, his jaw snapping down on three men at once and wildly shaking them around like they weighed nothing while blood and their screams filled the air.

And then you were off.

Once more, you had found yourself running for your life in the woods. Although this time you were much more efficient. The clothes Jungkook had given you were, in fact, much easier to run in. And now that the sun was out the forest was perfectly illuminated allowing you to see every fallen tree, root, and stump in your path.

You were going to run until you couldn’t anymore. This time, this time for sure you would make it out, you would be able to be free again.

At least, that was what you had thought, that was what you had hoped for. You had been wrong.

The trees were beginning to thin out, and what you had thought to be the clearing to a village turned out to be the small resting place of the noble army that had been abandoned save for guardsmen and of course, Lord Ilseong himself.

“My bride, there you are!” He called excitedly causing you to stumble backward, ready to begin running in the opposite direction but you were quickly stopped by his guards behind you.

“I have been looking all over for my pretty little bride, when my men found your carriage overturned we had assumed the worst.” He explained, coming to stand right in front of you leaving you with no exit to run to.

“What is this that you’re wearing?” He sneered, “What happened to the robes I sent you?”

He was more worried about the damn clothes than you, not that you cared at all what he felt for you but if he claimed to want you as his Lady you would think he would show an ounce of worry for your state of being.

“They were stolen from me, forgive me.” You said, your hands clenched into fists.

Lord Ilseong did not care, his beady eyes were still trained on the shirt and pants that donned your body.

“These are a man’s clothes!” He yelled, grasping the collar of the shirt and jerking it so strongly that it tore, the fabric falling to expose the column of your neck, your collarbones, and your left shoulder.

“Infidelity!” He screamed, rage burning red under his skin as he saw the marks that Jungkook had left the night before. A good portion of your body was littered with bruises but that spot was by far the worst, deep dark marks were clustered together along with a clear bite mark.

“It-it’s not what you think your grace!” You cried in an attempt to save yourself. Your eyes were burning and your heart was pounding, you knew what was going to come next.

“Do you know what the price of unfaithfulness is?” He hissed, his men forcing you down to your knees before him.

You whimpered as you heard the familiar sound of a sword being unsheathed, the metal glinting in the sun as it was passed to Ilseong.

“The penalty is death.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as warm tears attempted to fall. You refused to cry this time, you were done crying. And now, as you faced your certain death you refused to show this man your tears. This man was punishing you for a crime you did not commit against a relationship you did not have. A relationship you never wanted.

“What a shame, I had such high hopes for you, but you were just another common whore.” He seethed as he raised the sword above his head.

A sharp whistle shot by your ears and then another, the sound of something cutting through the air quickly. And almost immediately after two loud thuds sounded.

You cracked open your eyes to see the two guards laying limp on the forest floor, an arrow embedded in each of their throats. You peered over your shoulder and there, blending into the shadows of the trees sat a reaper high up in its branches. He was the man from this morning, Hoseok.

And if Hoseok was here, that meant -

Two more arrows sliced through the air, one piercing Ilseong’s left hand causing him to drop the sword and scream in pain only for another arrow to pierce his right hand. Both of his arms were spread out, each hand pinned to a tree and unable to move. He was defenseless.

Jungkook emerged from the shadows and behind him, Fang followed closely. Blood was matted into his fur, some was his own but the majority of it was not.

And Jungkook, he was trembling in rage.

“All you do is take. You took my mother from me, her life, my sibling's lives, and then you steal my wife from me not once but twice. Your judgment had been long awaited by not only myself but everyone under your rule.”

For the first time, Ilseong looked frightened like he was staring death in the face. Not unlike how you had been moments before.

“I promise you that I will take everything from you. Your riches, your land, and your life. That, that is the penalty for trying to murder another man’s wife.”

“J-Jungkook, I’m your father, have mercy, please!”

“Did you show my sisters mercy when you slaughtered them in their sleep? Or my brothers when you had your men shoot them down in the fields? Or my mother when you strangled her to death?!” He said, his voice growing louder and louder as his rage rolled off of him in waves.

“Please, I’ll give you whatever you want, anything!” Ilseong begged, his eyes wide in fright and panic.

“I want your life,” Jungkook said before picking up the sword from the ground and began hacking away without hesitation, once, twice, and three times until Ilseong’s head came lose from his neck and fell away his body going completely limp - only being held up by the arrows that still kept his decapitated body upright.

You couldn’t stop the raw scream that ripped freely from your throat. You had never seen a sight so horrific before, so violent and unforgiving. That image would forever be burned in your mind, haunting you each time to tried to sleep.

You watched in horror as Fang approached, grabbing what remained of Ilseong in his strong jaws and ripping his corpse free from the tree, dragging it back into the forest where he would no doubt be consumed.

“You shall reap what you sow.” Jungkook and Hoseok spoke in unison like it was a ritual.

Jungkook’s shoulders finally relaxed, the sword dropping from his hand as he turned to look at you. Blood was heavy on his face, covering the left side of it almost entirely. But he still smiled at you, the blood on his face making his teeth seem unbearably white only making your stomach turn ten times worse.

You whimpered in fright as he approached you, settling down in a crouch in front of you before tugging you into his arms. The scent of blood was ever stronger now as his hands smoothed up and down your back.

“Remember what I told you little lamb?” He grinned, “Without hesitation.”

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #yandere #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #bts fanfic #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere kpop #yandere bts x reader #mercenary jungkook #fantasy au #bts fantasy au #jungkook fantasy au

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redslug · 4 months

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Coloring tutorial I guess

That's my most default shading style, a hybrid of line drawing and painted shadows, and I'll tell you exactly how to get this look. But before we start, you need a weapon This is my main brush for basically anything, including line art on days when I don't feel like switching to something actually intended for inking. It's a lightly textured square brush with color variation on every stamp. Intended for Procreate but you can always just rip the alpha texture out of the file and use it for a brush in any drawing program. That out of the way, let's go. I'll use the same line art as the one in fluff tutorial. Set the line layer to ~60 or so opacity and get to blocking in the base colors of your character. The jitter brush will introduce some color variation on it's own, but changing the color occasionally will add more visual interest.

After this I add a multiply layer on top and dab orange or red in places where we might be able to see the base of the hairs or peek at the carapace underneath.

It's places where hair parts and where it's shorter. This accent color works great on joints as well. Example of the thing I'm going for in real life:

Especially visible behind the head. It's not present on every moth to be fair, but I like to add these accents even where it wouldn't make sense, just because it looks nice. Even on insects without hair. Block in the eyes and mandibles now, best if it's on separate layer.

Now, the actual funny tricks begin. If you're one of the people who only use multiply or add blend modes, stop it, get some help Understanding the math behind blend modes is gonna get you a long way. My lineart is set to subtract more often than not. I find it produces juicier and more colorful results than multiply. I want to give this picture a warm orange feeling, so the color of my lines should be the opposite - blue.

And, subtract.

Perfect, but not quite. We can push the lines to an even softer feeling. Take the line layer, copy it, invert the color and set to multiply. I then throw gaussian blur on the resulting copy and reduce opacity until the lines bleed into the surroundings just a little bit.

On to actual shading. People who shade without getting in some background first scare me, so let me throw something together real quick.

A simple gradient will also suffice for this use. We just need some information on which colors are present in the surroundings. Copy your background, bring it on top of your character layers and gaussian blur it real hard. Set it to multiply, remove all parts of the layer that go beyond the pixels of the base color layer. Adjust opacity until the character fits in the background.

Let's identify the light sources. In this case it's only the sky, but it produces two distinct colors - soft blue lighting comes from the top, slightly stronger red comes from behind. The blue light I set to exclusion blend mode because it felt most appropriate in this case. Both add and screen looked too strong to be the light coming from such dark sky.

In this lighting context the lower part of the body will receive less light that the upper part. I use the green of the bushes set to multiply to darken the bottom.

The character is surrounded by all kinds of soft light, but it can't get everywhere. It's time to add ambient occlusion, or contact shadows, for those without a 3d background. Anywhere where there is a crevice or surfaces almost touch, a soft shadow will form.

I do it on a multiply layer with a neutral gray-green color. Gray because any color light isn't really getting in there and green because the fluff is somewhat transparent and whatever light does pass through it gains a greenish hue.

Last step, red rim light from the fading sunset behind the character.

Since it's rim light I just work with normal blending mode. Setting it to add or something of the sort would make the rim light brighter than the source of the light. And it'd be odd.

And that's it. I usually throw on some post processing in Snapseed. Pull some curves, throw on a bit of grain, etc. But it's a topic for another time.

In conclusion, try to think about the environment more when shading. What route does light go through to reach where you're coloring? Did it reflect off of any colored surface? Did it pass through something transparent to gain a different hue? What color shadow would this ambient lighting produce? Go have fun with your colors now.

#art tutorial #anthro #insect #moth

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xreaderanonaccount · 6 months

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Let him see (Dottore x F!Reader)

Synopsis: Dottore wanted some revenge on the 9th fatui harbinger. And what better way than fucking you on his office table when he's not there.

Not Beta Read

Pairings: Dottore x F!Reader, Pantalone x reader (minor role)

RATING EXPLICIT MINORS DNI

Tags: Office sex, p in v, AFAB Reader, biting, overstim. degradtion, semi-public, almost caught

A/N: This could be a part two to Punishment, but can be standalone.

Divider credits: cafekitsune

“D-dottore, we shouldn’t do this. Not here.” Your cries fell on deaf ears, the cold wooden table bites your skin as the sinful sound of slapping from behind you fills the empty office. Your moans fall out of your lips with no restraint. Dottore ruthlessly pounds into your sopping hole. Biting roughly down on your shoulders drawing blood out of your shoulders. His hands bruising your hips. Sprawled across the wooden desk you spot multiple different types of banking statements and letters written from all across Teyvat. The name of the receiver repeating over and over again, Pantalone. Now you remember where you were, Dottore is fucking living guts out of you in Pantalone’s office. The thought made you clench around Dottore who groaned in response.

“You are such a whore aren’t you my pet?” Dottore muttered into your ear, his hand snaking around your neck holding your head up. Making you stare at the closed office door.

“You want him to come in and see, don't you?” He huffed, “Don’t deny my pet, your walls are practically choking my dick right now.” You tried your best to muffle your moans, but to no avail. Dottore always saw you hiding yourself as a challenge. His pace fastened to almost animalistic speeds. The force so strong Pantalone’s desk scraped against the cold marble floors.

“Please!” You yelled holding onto anything, anything to find balance. Crumbling up some of Pantalone’s paperwork. You can’t help it, Dottore would not let up. The knot in your stomach coiled more and more till you couldn’t hold it anymore. The snap felt so blissful as Dottore fucked you through your high. Catching his own high himself, you felt his semen filling you up and trickling down your legs. You couldn’t help yourself but to turn yourself the best you can to capture Dottore scarred lips. Dottore smirked as he hungrily accepted your kiss, keeping himself buried in you. Beats of moments went by before Dottore pulled out, leaving you panting on Pantalone’s desk. Dottore couldn’t help but smile as he ran his finger up your thigh, scooping up his dripping cum back into your filled pussy. You gasped at the feeling shuddering as you felt his fingers pumping in and out of your overstimulated cunt.

“Come now pet we must leave before he returns.” Dottore sneered at the mere mention of Pantalone’s name. You tried to follow him but your knees gave out as you knees fall onto the cold marble floor. Dottore looked back and only gave a sadistic smile.

“Oh don’t you look adorable that way.” And he left.

That asshole…ish, Omega strolled right in smiling at you as Dottore left the office.

“Thanks, Omega.” You huffed as he wrapped you with Dottore’s harbinger cloak, carrying you bridal style.

“Hmph, only following orders.”

“Lord Regrator, Lord Dottore was here earlier and left a letter.” One of his many attendants told him, handing him a letter with Dottore’s seal stamped on. Pantalone dismissed the attendant, stopping right before his door. He stared at the letter, he noticed on the corner a red lip stain on the bottom. He thought nothing of it till he walked inside his office. The crumbled Dottore’s letter, as he felt his jaw tick. His office is in complete disarray. Papers crumbled, desks shoved away, and his favorite ink knocked down. Pantalone took a deep breath as he summoned some attendants to fix his office. He stepped aside, letting the attendants do the work. Readjusting his glasses he opened the crumbled letter. But the paper was blank. Confused, he turned the paper around, spotting only one sentence in the middle of the paper. “I hope you do enjoy the gift I left behind.” With the smell of your favorite perfume lingering on the letter. Pantalone crumpled the paper and threw it to the nearest attendants. How dare the doctor disrespect him in his own office. Especially with you agreeing with this.

#dottore x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #dottore x female reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader smut #dottore x reader smut

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mitsies · 1 year

Text

-;, SPRING SHIVERS ! ; michael kaiser > it's a lot colder than you would expect this spring. you are unprepared, kaiser is not.

you really should not have forgone your coat.

it's cold out now, really, really cold. when you arrived at the party, it was a cheery spring day with the warm sun placing gentle kisses on the skin left exposed by your outfit. now, that sun was banished from the sky, replaced with an indigo fog and a blanket of stars that sent shivers down your spine with each gust of cold wind.

you didn't think you'd stay late enough for the weather to change this drastically, but your boyfriend had run into some old acquaintances who had been friendly enough to distract the both of you from leaving at a reasonable time. he was currently still saying his goodbyes, letting you escape to get a breath of fresh air early outside.

you crossed your arms over your chest as another whisper of wind froze the blood inside your skin, eliciting another huff from you. you were watching your breath dissipate into the night sky when a familiar voice sounds from behind you, accompanied by the opening of a door. you turn to see kaiser, jogging up behind you.

he's wearing baggy black jeans with a white button-down and a deep blue v-neck sweater layered over top. the collar is askew and as he approaches, you shake out your frozen fingers and pull it to its proper position. "hope i didn't keep you waiting too long, babe."

he's complacent when you flick him in the forehead, grinning at you as if you've just kissed him. "you did, actually," (it had only been a minute), "i should break up with you for this."

"whatever. you were just my sidepiece anyways." you shove him and he laughs, "i'm kidding."

you're about to bite back until another wave of wind hits you like a train and you position your arms over your frame again in a vain attempt to block out the wind. kaiser frowns as you curl your fingers into fists to prevent them from falling off.

"you should've brought your jacket."

"don't lecture me. i'm suffering enough already."

"i'm just saying. how is this a lecture?"

you scoff dramatically and start walking in the general direction of your apartment, about 5 minutes away, leaving your boyfriend to catch up. he meets your pace easily, falling into step beside you. "hold on."

stopping the both of you, kaiser slides the blue sweater off. it catches on the sleeves of his button-down, pulling it up and revealing a familiar stretch of ink embellishing the skin of his arm. he hands you the sweater, with a stupid wink and a cheesy pickup line and you fight down the urge to leave your lipstick stamps all over his dumb face.

"how chivalrous of you." sliding the sweater on, you're instantly alleviated from the biting winds of an early-spring night, feeling the warmth of both the knit piece and your boyfriend's act of affection.

"only the best for you," he replies with a little bow that makes you laugh. he smiles at you like you've just gone and hung all the stars in the sky. "are we going to your place?"

you nod, and are about to continue walking when you stop again. kaiser looks at you inquisitively, as you say, "i'm still cold, though."

he frowns. "we can stop for a warm drink on the way, but there's not much we can do until-"

you cut him off with a hefty, theatrical sigh and pull the sleeves of the sweater, far too long to fit you, up to expose your hands. "my hands are cold."

kaiser blinks, letting out an 'oh' before he grins at you like a fool, instantly moving to intertwine his fingers with yours. he pulls the top of your hand close, pressing a chaste kiss to the skin. "allow me to help, then, pretty."

"sure. maybe i won't break up with you."

he laughs again, the sound clear and loud and as genuine as it is full of unbridled affection, as it rings out in the emptiness of the night sky. "i'd appreciate that."

#michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser #blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk x reader #bllk #kaiser x reader #kaiser michael x reader #reader insert

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rottenpumpkin13 · 9 days

Note

SAGZC are taking a math test. What happens then?

The SOLDIERs + Cloud Take A Math Test - Who's Doing What

• Angeal came prepared because he had been studying for days. He's confident in his abilities and is ready to ace this test!

• Genesis sits beside Angeal because he plans to cheat.

Zack: Alright! Let's do this! *opens the math test* WHY ARE THERE LETTERS? WHAT THE FUCK?

• Sephiroth isn't worried at all. The equations are simple enough, and certainly less difficult than the ones Hojo had him master at age 7.

• Cloud doesn't expect to get a good grade. He's never been great at math, so all he hopes for is a peaceful exam and to hopefully not get a 0.

• Zack is crying, the tears are smudging the ink on his test, making him cry harder.

• Zack's crying is disturbing Angeal, who's already stressed as shit because the equations are much harder than he expected. His eyes are wide and bloodshot as he stares at his test, rocking back and forth, gripping his pencil so hard it's bending.

Angeal: No....this can't be....I studied so hard....

• Angeal's mental breakdown is disrupting Genesis' cheating, so he whips around and tells Zack to quit sobbing.

Genesis: SHUT UP. YES, MATH HAS X'S AND Y'S.

Zack: But why are they jumbled up???

Genesis: That's a MATRIX.

Zack: WHAT DOES KEANU REEVES HAVE TO DO WITH THIS?

Sephiroth: Why are we talking about Director Reeve right now?

Genesis: Oh my god.

• Sephiroth has never done an easier test. He's effortlessly flying through the equations, humming happily as he solves them. Angeal is enraged.

Sephiroth, while doing the test: What a tedious test. I had been hoping for something more challenging to keep me busy. At this rate, I'll be done in 5 minutes.

Angeal: Hey, Sephiroth?

Sephiroth: Yes?

Angeal: No one gives a shit.

Sephiroth: .....

• Angeal watching Sephiroth's happiness is beneficial for Genesis, who is leaning over and avidly copying everything from Angeal's test.

• Cloud saw his first fraction and gave up. He's now doodling on the back of his test page.

• Zack is having a mental breakdown.

Zack: WHAT'S A QUADRATIC FORMULA? WHEN AM I GOING TO USE THIS IN MY DAILY LIFE??

• Cloud takes out crayons and is now coloring in his drawing.

• Sephiroth loudly proclaims he's finished. Angeal removes his boot and throws it at him.

• Cloud takes out some glitter glue and is peacefully decorating his drawing.

Zack: WHAT'S PI? I DON'T SEE PIE ON THIS TEST. IF I SAW PIE, I WOULDN'T BE CRYING.

• Sephiroth and Angeal are arguing loudly.

Sephiroth: How is it my fault you came unprepared for the exam?

Angeal: You rubbing it in my face is throwing me off! I can't even concentrate on my equations!

Sephiroth: I regret to inform you that from my vantage point I have a clear view of you solving every single equation wrong.

Genesis: SON OF A BITCH I TOLD YOU TO STUDY!

• Genesis gets up, grabs his chair and attacks Angeal with it. Angeal realizes Genesis had been cheating the whole time and is enraged. The two are now fighting.

• Cloud is now coloring in his drawing with scented markers!

• Sephiroth hears a noise and turns around to see Zack choking on his own test, that he shoved into his mouth.

• Sephiroth dives back and starts performing the heimlich maneuver on Zack.

• Angeal is attempting to murder Genesis.

• Cloud is humming Stamp's theme song as he colors his doodle.

• Lazard walks into the room and sees what's going on.

Lazard: Oh my god. Seriously!? Unacceptable. You all fail! Cloud, your exemplary behavior has earned you full marks on this test.

Cloud: Nice!

Angeal: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

• Zack is still choking.

#who's doing what #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #zack fair #cloud strife

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oneforthemunny · 7 months

Note

orrr maybe earlier in the relationship with Janitor Eddie, they go through a haunted maze/haunted house together

falling |janitor!eddie munson x teacher!reader|

prompt: a "haunted house" looks a little different at hawkins elementary's fall festival. apart of my spooky stories series <3

“Are you scared?” Eddie muttered, hands rubbing down your arms sweetly.

“Terrified.” You grin, turning to look back at him. “Think I should use the bathroom now? Might pee on myself, I’ll get so scared.”

A laugh bubbled up out of Eddie’s chest, dimples deepening with a stretched smile. “Yeah? Jeez, babe, now you’ve got me worried.” Eddie looked at the entrance of the small gym door- the old gym, from years and years before. The school still kept the building, used it for parties and storage- for the Haunted House during the Hawkins Elementary Fall Festival.

“Didn’t know your kids were this scary.” Eddie hummed, stepping up slowly as the line moved.

“Terrifying. You didn’t know?” You teased, eyes sparkling the way they always did when you joked with him. It made Eddie swoon. “Steve’s a lot braver than me. Offering to work it this year. He’s a Saint for that.”

“Yeah, he is…” Eddie muttered, hands balling in his leather jacket pocket. He definitely did it out of the goodness in his heart, and not the thirty dollar bribe Eddie gave him so he could spend the night with you.

“I’m excited to see it though.” You chirped. “They’ve been working so hard in art. We had to cut bats out the other day- do you know how hard it is to cut a bat with kiddie scissors?”

“Never tried, but I can imagine.” Eddie smiled. “I don’t know how your fingers even fit in those. My hands cramp thinking about it.”

“Years of practice.” You bump your hip playfully with his. “Pretty much an entire semester in college. I swear, all we did was cut construction paper and make arts and crafts for different projects. It was the best and the worst class. My hands were sticky for a semester.”

“That’s… wow, actually now that you say that, I do remember Steve taking that class.” Eddie laughed, curls bouncing with every soft shake of his head. “He was always covered in glitter. Just unexplainably glittery.”

You laughed, that crystal, beautiful laugh that had Eddie’s knees wobbling. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

It was your turn next, stepping up to the small box where a student and chaperone sat. Amanda, from your class. “There’s just two of us.” You grin at her.

Her eyes flitted back from you and Eddie, grinning with her own excitement. “That’s two tickets.” She held her hand out, taking the tickets eagerly. The chaperone handed her the stamp, a scaredy cat outline in purple ink. She hesitated on Eddie’s hand, stamping it on his un-tattooed knuckles.

You waved goodbye, arm snaking around Eddie’s, pushing the streamers to the side. “Guess the secret’s out.” You mutter, the stamp glowing in the black light of the dark room.

“Guess so.” You could feel Eddie tense slightly, a shaky breath. “You-You’re cool with it?”

You rolled your eyes lightly. “Eddie, I don’t care what my fourth graders think about my love life.” You shake your head. “We’re gonna be a hot topic at recess, that’s all.”

“Yeah? Kinda boosts my ego.” Eddie puffed his chest out playfully.

“I can tell.” You giggle. “Head’s getting bigger already.”

“Could be my hair.” Eddie ran a hand down his curls. “Kinda hot in here. Think my curls are starting to frizz.”

“I think they look good.” You hum, smoothing a sweet hand down the curly locks, still soft and clean from the shower he took earlier. His hair was damp when he picked you up, from a rushed shower and too impatient to let it dry all the way; too excited to see you.

“Enter if you dare,” The dramatic, scary tone of Steve Harrington- in his Dracula ensamble- floated down the hallway. “And don’t touch, ok? Hands to yourself. Have a good time.” Steve nodded, letting the kids down the hallways, dark with animated, age appropriate scary sounds courtesy of the Halloween Screams CD playing on a loop.

“Hey, you’ve been in here three times, and you only have one stamp. You sneaking in here or just not leaving?” Steve frowned, stopping the boy in the Donatello costume.

You laughed, pulling Steve’s attention to you. He rolled his eyes. “Just- Last time or get in line like everyone else, alright?” Steve nodded towards the Ninja Turtle.

“What? You’re not doing the voice for us?” Eddie grinned, brows raised in amusement.

“Shut up, Munson.” Steve muttered, pulling the plastic fangs out of his mouth. “Shoulda charged you more.”

Eddie glared at him, eyes cutting to you. You were too busy looking at the decorations, waving to your own excited students. “Wow, Harrington. This is very scary.”

“Yeah? You jealous? Want to switch with me?” Steve snorted lightly.

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “I would never want to deprive you of this. You’re really in your element.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up you two. You’re doing the Christmas party. You think candy is bad? Wait until it’s candy, and hot chocolate, and winter break. See who’s laughing then.” Steve quipped, an eye roll that had both you and Eddie laughing, leaning in to each other.

“Alright, go in. Don’t touch anything. These decorations are barely hanging on.” Steve pulled the curtain.

You clung to Eddie’s arm- for your students, you told him, so they would think you were scared. Eddie didn’t mind, of course. He was more than happy to have you on his arm. Watching your exaggerated expressions, the kids' dramatic scares and giggles that followed when they saw it was you. For once, whispers following when he passed down the hallways didn’t bother him. They were different from the ones from years before, when he was in Hawkins Elementary as a student, a lanky, skinny boy with holes in his clothes; who never had a Halloween costume unless he made one, and then the kids made fun of him.

He would have killed for a teacher like you. Someone who would’ve been kind to him. You brought in extra costumes, bought from the Salvation Army, put them in your treasure chest for the kids like him, who didn’t have a costume. You picked up shifts at Melvald’s to pay for extra things around the holidays, working on weekends and nights when you could for some extra money. Gave up your own time so your kids could be happy; it made Eddie’s head spin in the best way.

You sat across from Eddie on the wooden picnic table, cradling the plastic tray of cut apples and caramel sauce. “So what’s your fall snack?” You ask, head tilting gently towards him.

“My what?” Eddie blinked.

“Your fall snack?” You grin, wiping your hands on the thin napkins. “Y’know, like when fall comes, what’s the one thing you crave? Like caramel apples or pumpkin bread…”

Eddie smiled, he could feel himself blushing. He didn’t even know why he was blushing, yet the heat still rose from his chest and crept up his collarbones. He hoped you couldn’t see how flushed he was under the streetlights.

“Uh, I don’t really… Oh, wait.” Eddie grinned. “Fried apple pie with vanilla ice cream.”

“Fried apple pie?” You lifted a brow.

“With vanilla ice cream.” Eddie nodded. “You ever had one?” You shook your head.

“Oh, baby, I gotta take you. When I was little, Wayne would take me to this Amish grocery store out past the quarry. He always got a pie there for Thanksgiving, and he’d get me a fried apple pie and vanilla ice cream. I don’t even like vanilla, but with that? Life changing, baby.” Eddie grinned, sighing. It was heavy but not sad… nostalgic.

“That sounds amazing.” You grin. “I love vanilla ice cream.”

“I know.” Eddie smiled. He had remembered that. This summer, after a movie date, he’d taken you to an ice cream parlor. You’d sat in the booth, giggling over melting cones- your vanilla, his chocolate.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll have to take you sometime.” Eddie nodded, eyes cutting to you carefully. “If you want to.”

“Yeah,” You smile, nodding. “We should go sometime. Bring Wayne back a pie.”

“God, he’d love that.” Eddie laughed. He’d love you even more than he already does, Eddie mused. The old man was already egging Eddie on, better buy her a ring, boy, she’s a keeper. Eddie knew you were. He’d started saving for rings after your second date, but he’d never tell you that.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight.” You hum, your own smile small, a little shy. “I know this isn’t like a great date or anything, but my kids like to see me. I like to see them.”

“No, it’s… I had fun- I’m having fun.” Eddie stuttered, a little nervous. Did he look like he wasn’t having fun? Fuck, he was, he really was. Maybe he should have played it up with the kids, he just didn’t want to take away from you. They were your kids and he’d never want to step in front of you, steal your moment.

“Yeah?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. Eddie nods, brown eyes wide, curls bobbing. “I’m having fun with you too.” Eddie thought he might pass out.

“They were so cute, all their little costumes.” You smile, chin resting on your palm. “They get to dress up two times so I know they’re just over the moon.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Halloween party is Tuesday, right?” Eddie asked. He knew when it was, he was going to have to clean overtime for all the Halloween parties.

You nodded. “I can’t wait for you to see my costume.” You grin, brows bouncing playfully at him.

“I can’t either.” Your smile is contagious to Eddie, leaving him grinning and swooning. “You gonna go all in?”

“No,” You shook your head. “Just a costume. Nothing fancy. The kids like it, so…” You trail off. “It’s not new or anything, I wear it every year, but you’ve never seen it so new to you.”

“I can’t wait.” Eddie smiled, knee bouncing under the table.

“Are you going to dress up?” You asked, lashes fluttering towards him sweetly.

“No,” Eddie scoffed lightly. “I mean, I wasn’t going to. Don’t really have anything. Guess I could wear my Michael Myers mask with my coveralls?”

You laugh. “Yeah, think you’d really scare the kids.”

“That’s the point, right? What you’re supposed to do, right? Scare the shit out of them.” Eddie smirked.

“Might get fired, but worth it, right?” You jest back.

“Definitely worth it.” Eddie nodded. “Maybe I’ll wear the old coveralls in there. Say I’m dressing up as Sal.”

You laugh. “That would be really funny, actually.” Your eyes shone under the lights, bright and dazzling back at Eddie.

“Yeah? Alright, I’ll do it then.” Eddie nodded. “Sorry it’s not a surprise.”

“That’s ok. Mine will be more than worth it.” You smile confidently at him.

“I know it will be.” Eddie said quickly, eyes widening. Fuck, had he said that outloud? His eyes widened slightly, watching you carefully- bracing himself for the inward cringe, the snarl, things he was used to in the past. Not from you. No, all that came was a shy smile, chin ducking down to hide your flushing face.

“You want one?” You ask, breaking the silence with the slide of your tray towards him.

“I’m ok.” Eddie shook his head politely.

“C’mon, I know you want one.” You press lightly. “You paid for them.”

“Yeah, for you.” Eddie countered, giving you a pointed look. “But if you insist.” He hummed, grabbing a green apple, scooping a glob of caramel on it.

“Would never want to deprive you.” You wink, and Eddie nearly chokes on the chewed apple he’s swallowing.

One of your kids passes by, waving goodbye, holding their tired mom’s hand. You wave back politely to both of them.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie starts, sweaty palms rubbing down his jeans. He knows it’s the end of the night. You don’t have any plans further, not yet anyways. “Do you- You like scary movies?”

“Depends.” You hum, tossing the empty plastic away in the trash bin. “How scary are we talking?”

“Not crazy.” Eddie slides in beside you, arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. The rides and music are dying down, the Hawkins’ PTA lingering behind with large trash bags, loading station wagons. “Pumpkinhead?”

“Never seen it.” You shrug lightly. Eddie’s shoulders deflate, heart racing- should’ve said Carrie, he fuckin’ knew it.

“But I’ll watch it with you, if that’s what you’re asking.” Your eyes meet his, grip tightening around your shoulders.

“Are you sure?” Eddie falters. “I mean, I was just- we don’t have to.”

“No, I think that sounds nice. Very on theme for the night.” You smile, leaning into his side, your steps in sync. “One condition, though.”

Anything. “Yeah, what’s that?” Eddie swallowed, trying to fight back his smile.

“I get to put M&Ms in the popcorn.” You point at him playfully. “Non-negotiable, Munson.”

“Done.” Eddie shrugs, fishing for his keys. “M&Ms in popcorn, huh? You’re that typa girl?” Unlocking your door, pulling it open for you.

“You know I am.” You quip, sliding under his open arm, tossing him a wink before he shut the door.

Eddie was buzzing with excitement, a dopey smile on his face, too lovestruck to even care. An hour later, you were pressed into his side, head on his shoulder, a bowl of hot popcorn with M&M's scattered inside between the two of you. Eddie hoped you couldn’t feel how he got hard when your hands brushed in the bowl.

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rustedhearts · 7 months

Text

but i love him to death (steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: steve harrington is only known for one thing around this part of town: being a low-life piece of shit. but you love him, and there's no coming back from a love as bruised as this.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ main masterlist ✶ hunger

tags: insanely toxic relationship (these people should not be together!); mention of suicide; oral (m!receiving); talk of stab wounds and other cruelty; steve is deeply deeply troubled; depraved behavior honestly; reckless behavior; actually a whole lot of knives.

“white trash dick, but i love him to death. he’s so good to me, and to nobody else, so you can fuck yourself.”

—inbred, ethel cain

rural midwest. winter, 2007.

Steve Harrington knew what a cell looked like by the time he was twelve. How to handle a switchblade, how to gut a buck, how to step on another boy’s chest and hold a lighter to his cheek until he was squealing and whining like an infant. His first trip to juvie came the day after he turned twelve. The second came at fourteen. “That Harrington kid” could’ve been stamped across his headstone.

The big house came when he was eighteen. A six month sentence spent like a small town prince in iron bars. He reappeared with a cross tattoo on his left knuckle. God’s justice, he’d say. As if God would ever grant such power to a boy the likes of him.

The second stint at twenty-one was nine months and a year probation. The inked serpent slithering the inside of his forearm served as another parting gift. By the time you came to know him at twenty-four, he was a blackened, scarred version of the boy he used to be. You never knew that bare-skinned, freckled, lanky kid his mama talked about.

You only ever knew the man with the buzzed head, and a fistful of justice.

Twenty years old and still clinging to girlhood naivety, you walked into his world thinking it would be a short trip. You thought the date at the diner with an apple pie dessert and a kiss against the truck bed would be just another diary entry. Hearts around his name and a lipstick kiss across lined paper, you wound your diary up, tucked it under your head, and waited for his call the next day.

But by the time you were twenty-two, you had bookshelves full of diaries, all branded with Steve’s name.

September 2005

Steve picked me up in his truck. It’s old and beat up. I imagined it might’ve been a nice green color back in the day, like the color of the pine trees in his backyard near the property line. He held my hand the whole way to the diner. He’s so warm and rough. You can tell he’s not like those other boys I went to high school with, all soft and lotioned and cushioned with office life. He’s a working man. He’s not afraid to get dirty.

I guess I slammed the door when we were getting out. He said: “hey, don’t slam the truck.” I thought he was joking. But he just stared at me. He kinda does that a lot. Under a set of furrowed brows, eyes all serpent like. Matches his tattoo. Something about that look makes my insides skitter around. I know it’s wrong to get a thrill out of being afraid, but I think I do.

I don’t really care that he’s been to jail. I don’t care about the talk that follows him like a fly to shit. I only care about the way he kissed me tonight. Like being devoured whole. The way he holds me makes me feel so small.

God, I think I love him.

✶ ✶

April 2006

All he ever does is yell these days. At me, at his crew, at anybody that looks his way. It’s blown past cranky and stumbled straight into crazy. Mama says she doesn’t know what I see in a “piece of shit” like him. She said if Daddy were around to see that “low life white trash I walk around with” that he’d blow his head off all over again. I think he’s turning in his grave just hearing her say that kind of stuff.

And I do hate the way Steve gets mad like that. How he yells at me for slamming the truck even when I don’t, and how he pulls me a little too hard and fucks a little too mean. But he loves me. And I love him. More than I’ve ever loved anybody. We’re getting a place together this summer. Nobody’s ever asked me to move in with them before. Hell, nobody’s ever asked me to be their girlfriend before Steve.

But Steve wants me. He wants me to be his and all his and nothing more. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted. Those other people just don’t know him like I do. They don’t know how sweet he can be. How on Thursday nights he brings me sunflowers. How on Fridays we rent a movie and order takeout, and he kisses me and kisses me until he’s tired. He’d do anything for me.

✶ ✶

December 2006

If Steve keeps up like this, he’ll go right back to jail. My mama said it, the sheriff said it, even Steve’s fucked up daddy said it, and that man hasn’t had a single brain cell to fry sunny-side up and eat for breakfast since Desert Storm. But anyone can tell Steve is heading down a dark road again.

He loses wads of cash, only to show up with a heap more a few days later. Things are going missing. He comes home late. Sometimes I swear his hands smell like the burn of gunfire. I try not to get too curious because I know he hates when I pry, but I can’t help it.

I just hope whatever he’s doing, he doesn’t get in over his head.

✶ ✶

August 2007

Steve and I had a terrible fight. I think that’s all we do these days. Fight and break things and scream at each other until I feel like I can’t even breathe. Sometimes I swear he’s gonna pop a vein. Sometimes I wish he would, just to watch him bleed all over the fucking house. Sometimes I hate him so much I think about killing him with my bare hands, and sometimes he says he hates me so much he wants to do the same.

But then he comes back from wherever he runs off to, softer and quieter and soaked in Menthol smoke. And he kisses me. So sweetly, like how he did outside the diner on our first date when his lips tasted like brown sugar apple and pie crust. And he traces my body with his mouth and those rough, hot-plate hands, and I feel like nothing bad has ever happened to us. Like we didn’t just smash the kitchen up, and he didn’t just break my favorite vase. Like he didn’t tell he me he fucking hated me and wished I was dead, and I didn’t just tell him he was a no good son of a bitch.

I know this can’t be good. But I love him.

✶ ✶

When winter came, the cops were knocking almost every weekend. Huffing and rolling their eyes about another noise complaint, a call for a welfare check, or more “domestic disturbance” calls. Steve would shove the door open and roll his eyes, motioning toward the familiar-faced officers leaning in the doorway scoping out the mess.

“It’s for you again, sweetheart. Wasting everyone’s time.”

And you sent them off with a promise of wellness, assuring the officers that knew all too well the kind of man “that Harrington kid” was, that you were perfectly happy.

“I didn’t call them, Steve,” you muttered, following the stomp of Steve’s work boots toward the bedroom.

He flopped down on the end of the bed, reaching for the muddied laces. “Yeah, whatever.”

The room was freezing. You only used the heat when absolutely necessary—nose about to fall off necessary. But right now, you could manage through the frigidity with one of Steve’s old flannel coats and a sweater, feet bundled in thick wool socks. You gazed down at them as you leaned in the doorway, arms crossed tight to capture heat. Steve’s huffed breaths shuddered white phantoms against the old bed quilt, colors faded and torn from time. It belonged to your grandmother.

The house you shared with Steve, tiny and rundown and something your mother pursed her lips at when she came around, sat on the edge of town. The highway was a shout away. Sometimes you hated the sound of cars whooshing and semis blaring. But when the house grew lonely on long, cold nights without Steve—the noise was all you had.

“C’mon,” you whispered, fiddling with the frayed cuff on your wrist. “Let’s just go for a drive. Clear our heads. Like we used to, you know?”

Steve set his boot on the floor, shoulders hunched over his lap. He steadied one hand on his thigh, inhaling sharply. You peeked up to watch him stare off at the wood paneled wall, fixing on the cross above your shared bed. You glanced at the matching one scrawled on his fist in black ink. Shuffling a little closer, you watched his throat bob with a steadying swallow. Your finger reached out to touch it, running down the blue vein throbbing through the side of his neck. His skin was so warm. You brushed your other hand over his head, a little sweaty from its confines in a black beanie all day. But you loved the feel of the short, wiry hair fibers against your nails. The buzzing sound it made when you scratched.

“C’mon, Steve.” You kissed his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

You slid to your knees when you got to his throat, nose slipping through the grooves, feeling every breath he swallowed. Inhaling a highway cigarette, a whip of cold air and how it sharpened his skin, a spritz of cologne, a hint of gasoline. Hands gliding over the stiff canvas on his thighs, into the tough interior of his starched camo jacket. The outline of his pocketknife nudged your knuckles as they traveled to his ribs. You knew there was another tucked somewhere in his boot, one more in the pocket on his left calf.

The thought of his body's sharp silver blades had you trembling with hunger.

Steve eased back onto the mattress, eyes sinking closed. The utility pant zipper needed a little tug to come loose. His belt, sturdy leather recently purchased to replace one worn and cracked from wear, became a frustrating task to undo. But he didn't help you. He barely moved, stoically stagnant on the center of the quilt with shallow breaths.

Dipping your hand into the opening made by the release of his belt and zipper, your fingers closed around the length of his cock. He shuddered, a low groan echoed from his mouth with another puff of white cloud across stained ceiling tiles. His brows pinched together when you closed your lips over the pulsing head, welcoming in the warmth of his blood rushing all to one spot. The hot, wet cavern of your mouth had his hips shifting, shimmying against the bed until the springs yipped where iron rusted. They dug into your chest when you pressed into the bed, bookended by his thick, sturdy thighs against your shoulders—caging you in.

But you loved to be trapped. By his body, by his hands, by his kiss. Captured against him, knowing no other warmth but his, throbbing in your mouth.

Steve grunted and groaned like a boorish beast, fists curling and slamming into the bed as he swelled in your mouth and pushed your lips apart. And your hands roamed his thighs, nails scratching up the muddied canvas, clawing for more of him under the thin cotton of his t-shirt. The skin there was warm, too, and you sought every inch of it with greed in those wandering palms. You took special care of caressing the scar sliced across his right rib—a gash once nasty and bloody healed into something jagged and crude.

A parting gift from prison, a cellmate's final well wish.

With a sharp gasp, Steve spilled into your mouth. Hotness burst like a bad pipe, leaking down your throat and slipping past your lips onto his lap. When you had it all down, sliding its way to your stomach, you scooped your tongue over the wet spot on his crotch until it was gone.

And Steve lied there, heaving for air and squeezing his eyes closed, waiting for your final apology.

You tucked him back into his pants, zipper and belt secured, and climbed over his body on the bed. One kiss, two, three, pressed firmly over his eyes, his cheeks, his jaw. Every inch of him coated in your mouth and the aftertaste of his seed, teeth carefully scraped across his throat.

He pulled his eyes open when you were done, hazel boring into the heat of your face. His fingers smelled like the cold when they swept over your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You could feel every piece of skin breaking away from his hand, unmoisturized and overworked.

"I love you," he mused. He said it with the sugar coating of a piece of candy.

This was the sweetest he ever was.

"I love you, too."

"Let's go for that drive."

✶ ✶

He rolled the windows half down in the truck. You slipped a cigarette from the pack squished between the seats and lit the end off his, sucking in the taste of his tongue with one drag. You never knew what the true taste of Steve was like—only Menthols and whatever else lingered on him. Never him alone, never just Steve.

He rubbed warmth into your denim thigh with his wide palm, mindlessly caressing and squeezing through whitened roads. It hadn't stopped snowing for days. The roads, though recently plowed, were gritty with blue salt and rough to roll over. The truck's monstrous tires rumbled through town with the same difficulty as the little Honda chugging behind. Whatever song he had groaning on the radio sounded like gravel in a blender.

Glancing between your wind-blown cheeks and the blinding white world in the windshield, Steve silently tapped his ashes toward the snow and pulled drags with stiff lips. He licked them before tugging you by the collar of his coat, still buttoned around your body, until you toppled into his seat.

"Gimme a kiss."

You planted a sweet one on his mouth, inching away when you were done. But he kept you close, fist squeezed around the coat, chasing after your mouth with sharp teeth and tough lips. You giggled, careful of where you held your cigarette as you gave into his demands. He was driving blind now.

A few more pecks and licks and you tried again, nudging back toward your own seat near the frigid window. His hold was iron.

"Mm—Steve—"

The sound of a horn blaring had you rearing back, his grip loosened with surprise. Steve quickly veered back into the right lane, acutely missing the clip of another truck's bumper as it sped toward you in the oncoming traffic.

"Jesus, Steve!" you gasped, a cold sweat settling in your bones as the truck jostled on the snowy asphalt.

But Steve just laughed, carelessly reaching for his cigarette as it sizzled on the rubber mat near the brake pedal. You swiped your hand over your face, rubbing at the itch in your skin from the blood rush of near-death adrenaline.

"What the fuck?"

"What?" he muttered, mouthing at the butt for what was left of the cigarette.

Huffing, you squished yourself against the window and gazed out of it at the empty cornfield to your right. All it appeared as in the death season was barren land. Tufts of blanched grass poked through mounds of ice. A tire turned over on the side of the road where shattered glass exploded. The splintered wood fence of someone's farm abandoned by time. The water tower a few miles out, an unbelievable figure in the grey sky, stamped with the town name and bruised with decades of rust.

The cold that settled in your body numbed.

"What?" he pressed, tone tighter now. "You gonna fuckin' cry now? Jesus."

You swiped at your cheeks with your sleeve, ignoring the sting of broken skin where the weather broke it open. "Whatever, Steve."

His tongue clicked against the back of his teeth, withered cigarette chucked out the window. You shoved your fingers under your thighs to keep them breathing.

"I gotta make a stop."

You pressed your head to the window, ignoring the rattle of glass with every rotation of the tires and the icy chill it gave you. "Fine."

The stop was the gas station up the road from town. The first inkling of civilization in a stretch of void land, owned by a no good daddy that passed it down to a no good son. It was something of a tradition in this part of the country, you supposed. To keep businesses rotted with the cavities of crime in the family. To pass the sins of the father down to the son.

Steve whipped the truck into the lot and parked behind the ice chest, giving perfect view of the neon window and the liquor aisle.

"Can you roll the windows up while you go?" you murmured meekly, watching him reach for the ignition.

He rolled his eyes, but cranked his side up without word. He leaned over your lap to do yours, breath coated in Menthols and rage. He didn't kiss you before he pulled away, and you tried not to let the sting settle for too long.

"Stay here," he barked, the truck rocking momentarily when he stepped down.

He slammed the door, effectively trapping what semblance of heat you could manage with your own breath inside and giving you some sort of relief. Short-lived relief, of course.

Steve's hand disappeared into his camo jacket as he yanked the door open, only to come away with a blade. You straightened in the passenger seat, every nerve ending and vein boiling in anticipation for the first scream. They came, however, in muffled shouts. Shattering, smashing, the familiar sharp crack of bone on bone. You hunched your shoulders close to your ears and shut your eyes, holding your breath in your throat.

The world always stopped when Steve got in a knife fight.

It came rushing back in bleached colors and white sounds when the truck teetered violently. Steve flopped into the driver's seat, slamming the truck door with a cool ease. Peeking your eyes open, you gauged the extremity of the assault by the state of his knuckles. Swollen indigo where flesh split apart and cried red across the steering wheel. Shaking a little as they swept his hat off his head, revealing pink ears and a flushed neck. Steve wiped at his face and cleaned away the sweat.

You watched him sigh and shove the keys into the ignition, shuffling in his seat to get comfortable for the ride back. In a matter of minutes, sirens would start wailing. And Steve's wallet would sit a little thicker on the nightstand nonetheless, waiting for his return.

"Let's go home," he said, passing you a tight grin.

He kept the windows rolled up, and let them fog with the whir of heat from uncleaned vents.

These little affections, you took as I love you's.

#rolly!#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington au #joe keery #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x fem #stranger things #stranger things au #steve stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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snowdrop-ivy · 6 months

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Chasing the Clouds: A Journey Back to The Beef | 1

Summary: Mikey left the restaurant to Carmen, Natalie, and you.

Trope: Second chances

T/W: Cursing, unresolved mental issues, trauma, suic!de, angst, and smut.

Word count: 4695

The sound of the alarm woke Carmy. 4:00AM. He had this dream on how things were a year ago, how he was in a different place being berated by the head chef. The time he always woke up everyday since he decided to move and leave everything behind. He waited for the alarm to finish to listen to the voice very familiar to him. He sat up on his bed and lit a cigarette before heading to sit in front of the window to look at the city lights Chicago has to offer him. There were little sounds he could hear that bothers him. The sound of the train. Kids laughing at the street. And your voice. The message you left him before cutting him off completely for bailing on you. Carmy played it one more time, as close to his ear as it can get.

Hey…

I know you're off and I know you can hear this so I'm just gonna say this one last time.

I miss you.

I miss how we used to be. How we used to be friends. How you and I would stay up and talk about everything. I know things got messed up when you left but I think what you don't know is you also left me. For no fucking reason. And the craziest thing is that I trusted myself you wouldn't do that. That you would not bail on me like your brother did to you but you did.

But you did… You fucking did it, Carm. And I still miss you. Every fucking day and I wish I can lock our memories in letters and drown myself in ink of you. God, I can fill empty canvases with your paintings because all I fucking see is you. But then I realized that after that, life's too fucking short to dwell on it. So if you want us to stay that way, that's okay. We'll each have the chance to be happy on the things we like and the person we love. And that's what I'm gonna do also. And hey? If you don't want to. That's okay too. I'm moving on, B.

So… This is the last time I'll chase you. Not because I got tired but because chasing you is like chasing the clouds.

I hope you become the best of what you really want.

Bye, B.

Carm clenched on the phone in his hand as he listened on the voicemail you left 5 years ago. He still gets updates of you from Rich and Sug. But that was it. You really meant what you said. And he blames himself for it. And the hole in the wall on his apartment when you left him that message. He knows what he did but also he, himself, doesn't know why he did it. Why he thought leaving you would be a great fucking idea.

He got up from his seat and got ready for work. Mikey left the business for him, Sug, and you to take care of. He thought that after Mikey passed away he would get a glimpse of you but nada. He got to the restaurant and stayed in his office. Or what used to be Mikey’s. He took a look at the bills with red stamps that said they’re past due dates and sat down. He got out and took a look at the kitchen, the bar, and the dining area. All of it reminds him of his brother. Of you. Or what he thinks the things you redid. Carm knew that you managed the restaurant before he passed away. Mikey told him that whenever they got a chance to talk. How you convinced Mikey to switch mayos, chairs, and cutlery. The crew came in and Carm decided to close the restaurant for the day to clean it. Every fucking inch of it, they cleaned, wiped, moped, washed dishes. Carm was hanging the penalty they got from the CBH since the restaurant does not comply with the sanitary standards. He heard a knock on the window and saw Uncle Jim. They sat by the window. Unc asked him how the restaurant’s been.

“And then you know, the produce bill is due, you know,” Carm answered pointing at the window. “And the power comes in and I can’t build enough of a parachute. Even if we got this place packed, that’s only like a week of survival cash.”

Unc sighed. “Exhausting listening to this.”

Carm knitted his brows, confused. “You ask me what’s goin on.”

“No,” Unc waved his finger. “I asked you where you’ve been.”

Carm tilted his head to the back. “You’re looking at it. This is where I’ve been,” He sighed and leaned on the chair.

“Carm, this place is bullshit,” Unc told him. “Right? I mean, you’re never gonna fix it. You can’t start at fucked. You understand that, right?”

He sarcastically chuckled. “Then why’d he leave it to me? Or Natalie? Or even your daughter for God’s sake.”

Unc sighed and looked at the window. “She’s doing good, by the way.”

“Who?” He asked like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“Don’t fuck with me. You know who?”

They looked at each other before chuckling.

“She’s got a job in San Francisco as a head nurse but she still got her photography gig as a hobby. You should see her photos, Carm,” Unc amusingly said with sparks in his eyes and wide smile.

“Yeah?” He answered. “You must be proud then?”

“Of course,” He laughed. “She’s making me proud since the day she was born”

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto au #carmen berzatto imagines #the bear fx #the bear

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yellowbunnydreams · 15 days

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Masquerade (Part 1) (William Afton x F! Reader)

~Happy birthday to a fellow member of the William Afton Husband Club, awesome writer and a generally wonderful friend @ruh--roh-raggy . Happy birthday, you wonderful person! I hope your drywall survives in your flimsy American house haha~

Credit to; saradika-graphics for the page dividers.

CW: Meet-cute! William in a suit, sunshine dad energy Henry, William is older than reader, kissing a stranger(?), flirty banter, light mention of murder, soft!dom Will, predator/prey metaphors

The thick paper in your hands felt heavy when it arrived through your door. The kind of paper where the smooth yet textured surface made you think of it's quality and how expensive it probably was as the black marbled pattern embossed with golden ink in hard-to-read cursive stared back at you.

At first, you had thought it was a mistake. Some mix-up in the post that meant you had received this special thing, but your name was clearly printed on it, as was your address in golden ichor and sealed with a golden wax stamp. Did people even use wax stamps anymore? You wondered. Clearly they must do. The wax was cured in the shape of an elegant flower and eventually, you managed to prize it off with a butter-knife an keep it intact so that you could still read the letter within.

So you sat in your kitchen in your ratty pj's and eating from a bowl of cereal that you had had to sniff the milk for and you weren't even sure you had checked the date on the cereal, holding the thick paper in one hand and reading elegantly printed white ink against the black background. Almost choking as you read the contents.

'We cordially invite you to attend the charity Summer Equinox ball, you have been selected by random draw to attend due to your noted goodwill within your community and charity work.' You raised an eyebrow at that, sure you donated a couple of dollars when you could afford it here and there but it was never ground-breaking amounts of money. You continued scanning the words on the page with your curiosity growing.

'This year, the charity of choice is St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital and we have gathered many like minded people from across multiple sectors. Whilst we encourage socialisation, it is reminded that the ball is a masquerade and one cardinal rule must be followed; that you must never reveal who you are whilst on the property.'

Now you were especially curious. A masquerade ball at a mysterious property that you were not supposed to know who was attending? It sounded almost like the plot to some cheesy horror movie you once saw, or perhaps the beginning of some silly romance novel you started reading on Wattpad that never got finished. But as you shovelled the last bites of cereal into your mouth you were more focused on the dress code and the thrill of excitement that ran through you at the opportunity.

'Participants will be given a mask on arrival. Please find attached a gift card to purchase appropriate attire in the black-tie range.'

Even if it resulted with somebody's hands deep in your guts for some absurd sacrifice, you decided that you were going because you weren't sure you would ever get the opportunity to do this again and honestly the chance to participate in something that sounded straight out of novel sounded right up your alley.

The dress had been purchased and you had found another letter at your door the day after it's purchase. The same white ink on black paper, sealed in golden wax. This time it was instructions for the ball instead, instructing that you must keep the dress in the box it had been neatly placed in and that you were to bring it with you when you were picked up as you would be allowed to change at the venue.

"It's almost like they don't trust me with the expensive stuff." You chuckled to the empty house when you read it, wincing at the receipt on the box and shaking your head.

But the night had arrived sooner than anticipated and the butterflies in your stomach were undeniable as you watched the limo pull up outside and climbed inside, clutching the invitation and your dress to your chest firmly as the driver nodded silently to you and began the drive. Soft music playing in the background as you were glad you had charged your phone for the journey, unsure how long it would take. You were almost surprised to look up at one point and recognise the town you were driving through, the ancient red-brick and domed roof of the library that had been acquisitioned by the university after a fire wiped most of the original features from the building sitting proudly in the approaching skyline. Face practically pressed to the cool glass as you watched the lights inside dazzling against the still pale summer sky and several people in formal looking suits stood on the white stone steps.

The limo pulled up outside of it, and you yelped as the door was pulled open to who you assumed was staff, their face partially obscured by the presence of a simple black eye-mask. Feeling your cheeks heating up as they extended a silent hand and allowed you to pick up the box before exiting the vehicle and guiding you up the steps towards the looming building. Wondering how late it would have to get before the sky turned dark and the place lit up.

"Welcome! You must be the guest we were told about." One of the staff greeted, a younger woman in an elegant black cocktail dress and a golden pin on her chest, also in a black mask as you nodded slightly dumbly. Her red curls were pinned to perfection, and you were envious that she looked so put together and well practised in heels as she tapped a clipboard and gestured for you to follow. "Come with me please, we have much preparation to do."

The marble floors clicked beneath her heels as you struggled to keep up with her long strides, feeling your heart pounding as you looked around as quickly as your guide would allow. Scanning the glass cases filled with some of the original library books, the plaques dedicated to the university to the painstaking restoration done by staff and students to try and preserve the history. If there was a place to pick to host a ball near to you, this was it.

You almost bumped into the woman as she suddenly stopped, turning on her heels and peering through the mask before gesturing to the heavy oak door in front of her.

"This is where you'll be getting ready tonight. Me and my team will assist you." Her voice was cool and clipped, professional as your brow furrowed in confusion.

"Team?"

"Yes, we're going to help you put on the dress and do your make-up and hair for you this evening."

"But...it's a masquerade? Nobody will see my face." Your confused tone clearly amused her as the professional neutrality broke for a moment with a small smirk before she cleared her throat and placed a thin hand on your back, guiding you inside.

"Whilst...technically yes, you are correct, people will still see your mouth and eyes. It helps with any guests who might have issues with hearing to communicate." She explained, letting you into the cool, dark room before your eyes adjusted to the change in light and revealed a well furnished, old fashioned study. The walls panelled in some heavy, dark wood and the smell of old books cloying with sweet incense and perfumes that you didn't recognise.

Inside, there were several woman gathered around a small table and a vanity that had been set up, all looking up as you entered and giving a polite smile under the same masks and similar dresses that you figured was the dress-code for the staff for the evening as you were guided to the chair in front of the vanity and your dress box was taken from you so that a cape could be tied around your shoulders.

"Now, miss, you are going to know the joy of creation." The red head smiled over your shoulder in the mirror, and you blinked as you tried to figure out where you had heard those words before.

"Sorry?"

"We're going to make you so beautiful, you'll be our own little Cinderella." One of the others giggled, brandishing a bottle of facial cleanser and some cotton pads as they approached.

"Now, sit still and let us work!"

"Yeah, just call us your fairy-godmothers for tonight!"

Whatever the staff had done to you had worked wonders by the time you could hear extra guests arrive in the hallway outside. Who knew that portable salon basins were a thing?

"Your hair always looks the best when you've just come from a salon trip you feel slightly guilty for spending the money on!" One of the ladies had explained to you, and as you looked at your hair neatly pinned up and framing your features perfectly, the right amount of shine and lustre to it, you couldn't argue with their logic.

The dress was a deep green, tight to your body and made of silk with a slit running up the leg to expose it. The bodice wrapped in small ivy-like lace that gave you a sort of 'goddess of the forest' vibes as you had been handed your mask, a silver filigree bunny that covered the top half of your face. Eyes lightly coated in a green eyeshadow and a deep red lipstick that somehow made your lips look even more plump. You felt like a million bucks. You felt like you could spend a million bucks too with what a good job they had done.

But you were soon stood at the main door to the hall. Heart fluttering in your chest nervously as your hand rested on the cold iron knocker and you swallowed. You were unsure if you were really ready to embark on such a daring adventure.

It would be a shame to put the dress to waste though.

As the door pushed open, your senses were assaulted with the sounds of people talking a laughing in the grand hall. Bathed in warm light under the dome skylight that revealed the slowly deepening summer sky. It did look like something out of a fairy-tale as you looked at the large, wooden bookshelves around the walls of the room filled with leather-bound tomes and carefully draped with bouquets of off-white roses and green ivy. Flashes of green, gold, silvers and coppers mixing with black and white. A band of neatly dressed and pressed musicians forming an orchestra towards the back as you descended the stairs.

Unlike Cinderella however, you were grateful that there were only a few eyes that turned towards you curiously. Trying to keep your balance in your small heels and navigate with a sense of grace and your posture elegant but not drawing too much attention to yourself as you navigated towards the bar that had been set up in a little alcove of the grand library.

There were already two men stood at the worn down wood, chatting amicably with each other. The shorter of the two with a gold bear mask, his arm wrapped around a woman in a deep red dress that matched his suit that you assumed must be a husband and wife..or perhaps just very well co-ordinated dates. But the taller of them caught your eye for a moment, his silver eyes widening behind his mask as they flickered over you so quickly you weren't entirely sure that you had even seen it.

"Are you ready for the performance tonight?" The woman asked as you stood to one side and glanced at the menu, wincing at some of the prices despite the sign that stated some of the profits went to charity from the bar. The taller one carefully adjusted the black leather gloves as he spoke, like he was considering something.

"Of course we are, darling! It's going to be spectacular and it's going to be magical!" The one with dark curls laughed, adjusting his bear mask and leaning onto the woman and planting a kiss on her semi-exposed cheek. Earning him a light smack on the arm as the taller one chuckled lowly. A sound that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and stomach twist in nervous knots.

"Yes, I've done all the safety checks three times over. There is nothing that could go wrong unless some idiot spills their drink on us." His voice was deep and gravelly, with an accent you couldn't place, that voice was something you were sure you would love to hear again as you tried to focus on the drinks options and wondering if you should just ask what you could get for less than three dollars.

"Well, we have more people to go 'meet', why don't you have some fun?" The one in red laughed, gesturing to the wider hall and whisking away the woman with him. Feeling some of the tension you didn't know you were holding in your body leaving before you let your attention fully return to the task in hand.

After a few moments however, your brow furrowed as you felt eyes linger on you. Turning your head to see the taller man left behind and watching you. His golden mask catching the light as he leaned against the bar and his serious expression quirked into a small smile before he shoved away from it and made what seemed like small steps towards you. Towering over your smaller frame before he settled back against the bar again, forcing you to look up at him.

"May I have your name, sweetheart?" The taller man asked, your eyes wandering over the golden rabbit mask over the top half of his face, still able to make out his greying salt and pepper hair and beard. Those intense grey eyes that had a slight squint to them like he was without glasses that he needed.

"Ah ah, the whole point of a masquerade is that we don't know who that person is." You wagged your fingers disapprovingly, unsure of where the confidence had come from, and the man laughed, his broad chest straining through his tight black shirt, the matching black waistcoat tailored to his body as he rolled his sleeves up to reveal his thick forearms, covered in thin silvery scars and thick coarse hair. You couldn't help but think that they were the kind of forearms that you knew would hug you right, but the thought disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Those black gloves tightening over his large hands and hearing the faint sound of leather creaking as he held onto his elbows.

"You're very right, and so I shall have to name you 'Miss Bunny' for tonight...given your mask and all." Gesturing to your own mask that you had been given for the night. A silvery copy of his own.

"Then you shall be Mr. Rabbit." The older man smiled, making your heart flutter slightly in your chest as he chuckled deeply. "Hmm..I like it. Well, Miss Bunny, may I get you something to drink?"

"Oh no I couldn't-"

"I insist. And plus, you've been staring at that rather short menu for the past five minutes like you're contemplating every penny in that purse...although I have to say I can't tell where you would even keep money in that stunning dress."

Your cheeks were heating up at he called the dress stunning, feeling his eyes raking over you again before you giggled and shook your head, deciding to be a little bolder than you might have been had you not had the mask to hide behind.

"Mr.Rabbit! It's rude to ask about a lady's finances...unless you're proposing a dowry?" The man blinked for a moment before he let out a deep laugh, doubling over slightly and making your cheeks heat up as a few heads snapped your way at the sudden sound. Turning himself towards the bartender and gesturing them over before giving you a wolfish grin.

"Feisty little bunny, I like that. A scotch on the rocks for me, and...a bourbon cherry for the little lady here." He pulled a wallet from his slacks pocket and his thick fingers nimbly pulled out a few notes to lay on the bar. Unable to stop yourself from watching his hands as he moved them. "So, you look terrified little bunny. Do you need some company to keep you from the wolves?" That damn smile flashing again as you tutted.

"Wolves? You're quite mistaken Mr. Rabbit, what if I'm a wolf in disguise?" You asked, raising an eyebrow and making the older man chuckle as he leaned it, the drinks arriving on the bar as he came close enough that you could smell the spicy, earthy cologne that he wore. And something faintly like motor oil beneath it.

"I know predators when I see one, Miss. Bunny, and you are far from one. They're the go-getters, the ones who'll seize life by the throat and tear out their own opportunities should they not be offered up."

"Maybe it's you who's in disguise then." Your voice soft as you picked up the cocktail glass with the thin red liquid inside and a cherry run through on a stick, picking it up to bite the fruit before a leathered hand wrapped around your wrist and made you gasp, heart pounding loudly in your ears as his large hand easily held onto you and he leaned it.

Those silver eyes focused on you and flashed with mischief and something dark as he opened his mouth and wrapped his long tongue around the cherry before closing his lips around it and pulling it free from the stick. Leaving you dumbfounded as he leaned in so close you swore you could smell the sweet tartness of the fruit on his breath, setting your knees weak and making your chest tighten as he whispered softly.

"Perhaps.... But I think I'll enjoy seeing you again tonight, Miss. Bunny. Unfortunately, I have a performance to get ready for." Standing up slowly and releasing your wrist slowly, his finger stroking along the delicate skin inside your wrist and leaving you breathless, swallowing softly as he adjusted his gloves and black waistcoat. Giving you a wink and lopsided grin before running one hand through his salt and pepper hair and moving back into the crowd with his own drink.

The room suddenly felt hot as you felt your cheek with your free hand, taking a shaky sip of your drink and finding some comfort for your racing heart-beat in the tart and smoky flavours. Staring after the golden rabbit with the hope that you would find him again before the night was over.

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