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mostlycompetentwriter · 12 days

Text

Thunderous

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Bang Chan

Word Count: 11K

Genre: Werewolf AU! Royalty AU!

Warnings: There are some elements of non-con in this fanfic. Please don’t read if you don’t like those elements. Mentions of knotting and rough sex. There’s also a lot of explicit smut and language throughout.

Summary: The Wolf King’s name seared your heart. You had been chosen as the youngest and most expendable daughter to be his mate. But you were terrified of the legends surrounding his bloody campaigns. How were you going to survive?

Tag List: @armystay89 @captainchrisstan @starseekersworld @melsunshine @kibs-and-bits

The Wolf King’s name whispered through the trees and hummed between the villages like the ancient stories of the gods.

Some of the villagers claimed that he could transform—bones cracking and teeth elongating until there was no man left. They said his claws could cut through trees and that his howl silenced the instincts of the mountain lions who cowered in their dens. In place of human skin, fur sprouted thick and rough, darkening until it matched the color of the shadows.

The myth and lore had been passed down for years, and you found yourself on the receiving end of all those stories. As the Wolf King’s future mate, you had also become something of an enigma around the kingdom. People looked at you with a glint of respect, bowing their heads and moving out of your way whenever you made your rounds.

The attention that you hated. Especially when the marriage had been arranged without your willing compliance. Young girl fantasies of handsome princes and distant lands vanquished in an instant. But even if you couldn’t indulge in happiness anymore, there had been a time when you allowed yourself to dream about your wedding.

Bubbling colors of red and green—like your kingdom’s annual yuletide celebrations—and a long, flowing white gown extending across the floor like an elegant brush of paint. Pure as you had always been. There was beautiful music in your dream, and a gorgeous prince to take you into his arms and glide you across the floor like the clouds moving in the sky.

Fantasies, indeed.

Instead, of merriment and goodwill, you found yourself trembling from head to toe, holding tight to the sleeve of your handmaiden’s gown as she escorted you through the recital hall, down the aisle to where you recognized the Wolf King waiting.

You had only met him twice before. Once, when you had just turned twelve, on the day your families agreed to meet over the prospect of securing peace between your rival kingdoms.

When you were both little children, the Wolf King had no reputation. He was just a boy, and you greeted him with a smile—ignorant of the true purpose of your first meeting. While your parents talked about the future, you showed the Wolf King your favorite flowers, handing him individual stems while your mother bargained your life away:

“A union is our commitment to peace,” your mother had once proclaimed, reaching out to softly pat your curls. “We think they’ll do well together.”

“Yes.” But Chan’s mother didn’t seem convinced. She was an elegant and beautiful woman with long black hair and bright red eyes to match his defining features. “Chan will decide who he wants to marry,” his mother said.

“Y/N will make a good wife when she comes of age,” your mother insisted. “We’ll hire the best teachers to ensure that she is prepared for her duties.”

“That matters little to us,” Chan’s father spoke, and he regarded you like one might grimace at an annoying ant to step on.

You shied away from his intimidating stare, looking instead at Chan as he designed a flower crown for you, placing it on top of your head with a proud smile.

It was the last time he would ever show such kindness.

Over the years proceding your first meeting, Chan became a man, and his reputation for ruthlessness and fury ignited a storm of gossip.

“The Wolf King stands taller than the gods!”

“The Wolf King slaughtered a village because they refused to bow down to him!”

“He’s a monster! Have mercy on us all!”

You became terrified at any mention of the Wolf King, wondering if your parents were still serious about a union. You found out the hard way when your mother invited the Wolf King and his generals to your kingdom. But you didn’t stick around for very long.

The next time you met, you were sixteen, and you ran away to the gardens in a rare show of rebellion against your parents who had expected you to dress pretty and show off for Chan.

But that wasn’t in your nature, and your instincts screamed at you to avoid the Wolf King. And you thought that you were alone in the forest. Surrounded by the quiet of the thick foliage. But then you heard the bushes move, and you noticed a large black head peering at you with piercing red eyes.

You relaxed when you realized that it was just a common wolf—probably one from the mountain packs, and you weren’t frightened. Animals had always held a special place in your heart, and you approached the wolf with palms upturned to show your peaceful intentions. The wolf never moved, and you stroked your fingers through the coarse fur on his head.

You returned home that evening thinking your father would scold you for running off like that. But you were instead warmly greeted by your parents who were both ecstatic. “He agreed to marry you, Y/N!” your mother exclaimed. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

It wasn’t.

Not at all.

And you had never experienced real fear in your entire life. But walking down the aisle in the chapel to where the fearless Wolf King waited for you, there was a bone-chilling tremble aching down your spine.

“So beautiful,” you heard faint whispers join together, urging you closer and closer to the Wolf King who gazed at you with the most intense stare you had ever received.

When you were within earshot, the Wolf King snatched your hand from the poor handmaiden who had been helping you walk down the aisle.

The girl quickly jumped to the side, bowing her head as the Wolf King forced you to stand in front of him, reaching down for your other hand. You reluctantly gave it to him, still looking at everything except for the Wolf King’s eyes, even if the little growl he gave showed that he disapproved.

You could hear your mother’s chastising voice in your head, scolding you for not pleasing the King. But you didn’t care anymore. Wasn’t it enough that you were standing there, giving your life away to a monster?

In the distant background, you could hear the priest delivering his lines, and when it was your turn, you gave your vow of allegiance, even if the words fell hot like acid from your unwilling tongue.

Thankfully, the ceremony did not require you to kiss him, dodging his wayward lips when they fell too close to yours.

There was a rush when the proceedings concluded, the firm ushering of hands leading you out of the chapel. You stumbled in your heels, bringing yourself inadvertently closer to the Wolf King who held tighter to your waist. You did not enjoy the closeness, swallowing down your nerves as you tried not to think about what came next.

The crowd eventually parted, giving you enough space to walk down the steps in the open air, briefly acknowledging the cheering crowd spread through the streets. There was a distinct awe in the noise from the people around you, clambering over one another to get a good like at yourself and the predator who would soon claim you for his own. Wanting to acquaint themselves with your kingdom’s bargaining chip—a small sacrifice to ensure an alliance between your people and the ones who fought under Chan’s domain.

On paper, it seemed like a worthy solution to helping your kingdom protect its borders and fight off invaders. The problem was that you felt the weight of pleasing a man you had no interest in—someone who frightened you to your core. A sick knot tightened in your guts and your stomach clenched tighter as Chan led you to Castle Miroh—the notorious landmark of his territory symbolizing the power of the ruling family.

As the main doors parted, you winced at the sensation of the cold and harsh air inside, and a shiver passed down your spine as you forced yourself to keep up with Chan’s incessant pace, footsteps clacking against marble. It was dark in the corridors, and the only lighting came from the flames ensconced along the walls, casting everything in shadows. Ahead in the distance, you could see the outline of a grand staircase, and your eyes worked tirelessly to mark each step on your darkened path.

It turned out that Chan kept his quarters on the highest floor, latching your fingers together the entire time, even as you forced down the bile permanently hitched at the back of your throat at the thought of all the blood that had stained those hands.

At the top of the staircase, you were pulled to the left, marching down an impressive corridor with a soft, velvet carpet beneath your soles. Eventually, you found yourself in front of a large, wooden door, and Chan ushered you through the frame, a hand to your lower back as your eyes paused on the King-sized bed waiting beneath an unholy painting of a bloody battle scene.

You will present yourself to the Wolf King, you recalled the words of your tutor. He will expect obedience from his mate.

You blinked away tears, knowing what you were expected to do next, and deciding to push through your nerves before you lost the contents of your stomach on the floor. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to run, but you ignored your instincts, loosening the straps of your dress to allow it to pool into a mess on the floor at your feet, and kicking it aside as you eliminated the remaining distance to the bed.

You didn’t want to show him that you were weak. That he had any sort of influence that might condemn you a coward. You could not be seen as pathetic in the eyes of a monster, crawling on hands and knees to the center of the bed, head ducked down between your trembling arms and waiting.

Your breath caught when the bed dipped beneath his weight, and you gritted your teeth, feeling his hands take your hips with a powerful grip, nails digging into the soft skin.

The Wolf King will fuck you, your tutor had said, Then he will bite you to complete the mating ritual.

You had seen the Wolf King’s teeth. Sharp like razors and pointed at the ends. You would be a bloody mess at the end of this, but no one could ever accuse you of shirking your responsibilities. You had done everything expected of you, holding on to this thought of solace as you waited for him to take his fill.

“Don’t,” he abruptly whispered, startling you as he laid down on the mattress at your side, closing his eyes and letting out a grumble, completely unbothered with his own nakedness.

It must’ve happened while you were turned away, but it was still jarring to see so much pale skin on display, marred with jagged scars and scarlet bruises. Eyes trailing over the swell of his chest, over the ridges of his abs, and down to this impressive cock.

You swallowed hard. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

“No,” Chan said, chest deflating. “You do not want that.”

His response surprised you, and you wanted nothing more than to hurriedly tuck the sheet around your body to hide you from him. “I thought you were meant to-”

“We are equals,” Chan interrupted with a much firmer tone. “And you are afraid.”

Equals? The word didn’t seem right coming from him, but you weren’t about to question what was seemingly amounting to an act of mercy. Quick as a flash, you had the sheet bundled against your chest, eyes wide as you looked him over. “The mating-”

“We can do the bite,” Chan continued as if he didn’t care that he wasn’t fulfilling the only purpose you had been given. “But in the morning. The celebrations earlier exhausted me. Such frivolous trivialities.”

“Won’t they notice-”

“Who are they?” Chan barked with a hint of a growl that had you flinching. “There is no one who orders the King around.”

His dark pupils met yours in the dark, searching for something. You swallowed hard, unsure what he was looking for, but focusing on the calming sensation of relief flooding your system at his unexpected mercy. “Thank you.”

He gave a curt nod, dipping his head to the space next to him. “Sleep.”

You obeyed, wondering if you could sleep next to him, even if he had shown you some degree of kindness. It still didn’t erase his bloody reputation, and it worried you to no end that you would be sleeping next to a killer. Born to fight his way to power and rule over his kind.

You took a deep breath, holding tight to the sheet, and closing your eyes. Perhaps it was the roller coaster of emotions weighing down on you from the day’s events, but you did manage to find sleep, even if it was troubled. Nightmares of wolves following you through the woods, red irises piercing you from the shelter of the trees, and claws slicing through flesh.

You gasped when your eyes sprung open against an onslaught of bright, morning light, heart palpitating in your chest when you met those same eyes looking down at you from above. Chan was a step ahead of you as if he could predict your movements, grabbing your hands in one of his own to hold them above your head. One of his powerful thighs slung across your lower body, holding you in place with a strength that ignited a fire of burning adrenaline.

“Hold still,” he said, giving you no other warning before teeth sank into the side of your neck, and your body panicked, fighting against him. Like he might take a chunk out of your neck and leave you on the bed to bleed out. Crimson against the cream-colored sheets.

Immediately, a pulsating shock erupted from the site of the wound, forcing a scream from between your lips at the overwhelming pain. “I know,” he said, and it was barely discernible over the sounds of your cries, unashamed to lose all inhibitions at the sensation of a pain you had never experienced before.

The Wolf King moved over top of you, and you flinched when you felt his tongue start to lap at the painful bite mark on your shoulder. “The pain will stop soon,” he said. “I’m sorry you have to suffer.”

You held back a whine, digging your nails into the soft flesh of your palms. You supposed he had helped the sting, but it still felt like a piece of glass was being sliced across your skin. Even if the guilt and remorse in his gaze were almost enough to distract you.

“Relax,” he soothed, releasing your hands which instinctively went to wipe at your eyes, drying the salty wetness that had accumulated.

“I- I can’t...”

“You can because you are mine now,” he declared in a tone that had a different flame sparking in your chest.

You nodded against the pain, focusing on taking deep breaths, and letting darkness take you under once more.

When you woke again, the King was ready for you. He explained that you were needed in the Throne Room to meet some important people. It turned out that the King had three brothers. They were all younger than him. Or so you had been told.

Their names were Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin. Feared and revered for their triumphs in battle.

Your Wolf King seemed proud to show them off, standing before you in an organized line: from oldest to youngest.

Felix reminded you of your own cousins, with his lithe figure, so much different from the King’s own bulk, and a head of flaming orange-red hair.

Next to him, in the middle, stood Seungmin. Dressed in dark clothes that only made his already dark hair even more onyx-black. Bright green eyes appraising you slowly.

Finally, there was Jeongin. The tallest of the three. And sporting the same dark-colored hair as his middle brother. He seemed to be the most innocent, eyes wide with wonder.

“They are here to support you,” Chan went on after introductions had passed. “Call on them if you need any help.”

Unlikely, but you forced a nod nonetheless.

“You are dismissed,” Chan informed them after you gave your acquiescence, and you watched them retreat in the same formation down the hall.

In their stead approached a shorter man, dressed in full battle attire. Well-muscled to stretch the fabric of his shirt and pants, with serious dark eyes. “My King,” the man said, bowing once. “You are needed on the training fields.”

You flinched when the man’s eyes found your neck, likely noting the swollen mess that Chan had left behind. “I’ll be there shortly, Changbin,” Chan said, and he waited until the man was gone before looking at you. “The Castle is yours, my Queen. Feel free to look around and acquaint yourself with your new home.”

“I will,” you whispered, forcing yourself to stay still when he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“Tonight, we can eat together,” came his parting words, and you grimaced at the idea of sharing a meal with him.

But the concept of sharing a meal with him was nowhere near as horrible as the idea that this place could ever be considered your home. What a nasty thought! This place was nothing more than a prison forced upon you because your parents were desperate for Chan’s allegiance.

“Why did he agree?” you huffed to yourself, spinning on your heel to start the trek back to your room—as much as you could remember. “Leaving me here as if I know where anything is!”

For months leading up to your shared nuptials, you had pondered the reason why the powerful Wolf King had even agreed to marry you in the first place. Neither of your meetings had been particularly impactful, and your Kingdom had nothing to benefit his own; in fact, your alliance was more of a detriment to Chan and his people—a burden that he willingly took on.

You turned the corner to the last corridor, grateful that you had managed to retrace your steps, faltering when you noticed something on the floor outside of your door. You kneeled to retrieve it, glancing at the writing and noting with a happy hum that it was addressed from the Northern Highlands!

“Grace!” you exclaimed, clutching the envelope to your chest as you quickly rushed inside your room, glancing back to ensure the door was locked before hopping onto the bed to rip the contents open.

Dear Y/N,

Congratulations on your marriage to Bang Chan - it will be a strong alliance for our parents and their Kingdom.

I apologize for my absence - Hyunjin was unable to make the accommodations.

As you know, snowfall comes to the Highlands in the upcoming months. It will soon be impossible for me to journey to you, or for you to make the journey here. I’d love to see you and your new husband before it is difficult to do so.

Please write to me when you can to arrange a visit.

Lovingly,

Grace

You read over the letter twice before releasing a deep sigh. Would your Wolf King even indulge in such a trip? Perhaps it wasn’t even necessary for him to go. You could make the trip on your own.

You held fast to that thought, of getting away from your prison even if only for a few days, as you lounged around in your room for the remainder of the day. There was little to entertain yourself with, re-reading Grace’s letter over and over again, and sitting outside on the little veranda attached to your room to watch the clouds moving in the sky.

It would be another mercy to escape Chan’s presence if you were to head North alone, but you were afraid that you were pushing your luck, wincing when you heard the door to your chambers opening again, returning inside from your observation of the grounds to greet Chan as you were expected to do.

“My queen,” he rumbled, reaching out to hold your shoulders between both hands, a grip that was impossible to mistake. “Were you able to see more of the Castle?”

“Yes,” you lied through clenched teeth, only breathing a little easier when he released you, eyes dropping to the letter in your hands.

“What is that?”

“It is from my sister,” you explained.

“I see.”

“She wasn’t able to attend the wedding,” you went on, saving yourself a bit of time as you scrambled for the best way to drop the news to him. Maybe it would just be best to try a blunt approach, giving him your demands since he insisted on calling you an equal. “I wish to see my sister,” you said, refusing to meet his gaze. “Before it is too dangerous to make the trip to the Northern Highlands.”

Chan grunted at your request, and you weren’t well-versed in his language to know what that meant. “She invited you?”

“I can go alone,” you said. “If it is too much for you.”

“I would love to come with you,” he said, disregarding the determination in your tone. “It will give us more time to spend together on our own.”

“Oh.” Your gaze remained trained on the floor, hopes dashed that you could leave him behind.

“It will be nice to visit there,” he said. “I will make the arrangements. You may write her back to expect us very soon.”

“As you wish,” you sighed, trying to keep the disappointment from your tone, flinching when he grabbed one of your wrists. He didn’t seem perturbed by your reaction, and you watched as he pulled a delicate piece of jewelry from his pocket.

“Well?” he smiled, something that made you shiver. “What do you think?”

“What is it?” you asked in return, resisting the urge to pull back the wrist clasped between his scarred fingers. Even if you did manage to finally meet his gaze.

“It is a gift for you,” Chan said with a smile you were not expecting—blinding and warm. “I made it myself.”

“You made this?”

“As our traditions dictate,” he agreed, keeping a firm hold on your wrist to clasp the little bracelet around your delicate flesh. “It is meant to show our bond to the world.”

You studied it curiously, noting the simple design and the small wolf-shaped carvings engraved in the metal. It was cold against your skin, even as the heat from his body balanced it out.

“Shall we eat?”

He dropped your wrist, and you were able to gather your bearings. “Of course.” You managed a nod, watching as he opened the door wide, allowing a small servant girl to enter the room.

The girl offered you both a respectful bow before she started to set the table, laying out silverware and fine china plates. Behind her, another girl rolled in a cart, wheels squealing on the floor, with prepared food steaming from beneath metal lids.

“Here, sit with me,” Chan said, patting the space on the bed next to him. “Until they are ready.”

You obeyed, sitting down next to him. Your gaze remained trained on the servant girls, moving about in a well-rehearsed manner as if they had done this too many times to count.

He reached for your hand, and you did your best not to flinch. “Look,” he whispered, urging you to follow his gaze. “This line on your hand, do you see the way it moves?”

You shivered as he traced the mark he referred to, following it up and down the length of your palm. “Yes,” you whispered, struck by the unexpected intimacy of the gesture.

Goosebumps followed the trail he left on your wrist, and you held your breath when he brought it to his lips. “The same as mine,” he said, almost reverently. Your eyes widened, breath hitching as he aligned your hands together. “A perfect match.”

You could hardly believe it, eyes searching back and forth, but seeing the same line digging into both of your skin. Like it belonged there.

“There are reasons for everything,” he said, and you felt a small flicker of shame when you read his knowing gaze as if he could sense those dark thoughts that you sheltered about him—wondering why you out of everyone in the world had been chosen to stand at his side. “I wouldn’t question so much,” he continued. “The things that fall into place so perfectly.”

He offered you a wink, surprisingly playful for a man of his reputation. “Let’s eat.”

You nodded, the most you could, and followed him to the table. He was polite as always, allowing you to pick first, waiting until your first bite before claiming his own. You were content, at that moment, to answer the questions he threw your way, increasingly aware of the way the place he had touched warming and the mark on your neck drummed in a gentle pulse.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, and there was less trepidation in your soul when you lay with Chan to sleep.

You journeyed to the Highlands the next morning, riding behind Chan on horseback, leaving the Wolves’ imposing Castle behind. There was a lightness about you as distance added more miles to your ride, growing brighter and brighter the further you traveled. Even with light conversation petering between you and Chan, you had never been freer in your entire life, the wind blowing back your hair as you soared across the plains.

Despite his repeated requests for you to take a break, you were determined to make it to your sister’s palace before nightfall. You wanted to see her outside, in the meadows that spread invitingly across the Highlands, and walk together just the two of you as you did as children.

There was excitement spiking hot adrenaline in your veins when the hills opened up in the distance, revealing a gorgeous mountain Castle with imposing towers and the familiar flags of your sister’s powerful family. She belonged to Hyunjin, taking his name and crest, and it made you sad to realize that there was a greater distance between you both. You loosened your grip on Chan’s waist, not realizing your grip on him.

You had grown tired of being around him, constantly blinded by the weight of his shadow. At least out here, with the sun beaming down from above, you could feel great relief from the pressure lightening. Perhaps there should be shame associated with your actions, but as soon as you could identify a familiar shape up ahead, you were already leaping from the horse despite Chan’s protests.

Thankfully, your sister was there to greet you, surrounded by two guards. Immediately, you jumped from your steed, falling into her arms and inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. “Grace,” you squealed, keeping her held tight to you as if it would be the last time you could ever do so.

“Y/N,” she sing-songed back, and you smiled at her playful attitude, only growing a little despondent when you detected Chan’s approach from behind.

“Hello,” she greeted Chan with a polite bow. “It is an honor to welcome you to the Northern Highlands.”

“Your palace is beautiful,” Chan complimented, and you shivered when he drew fingers down the length of your spine—a show of affection that you would never get used to experiencing.

“Thank you,” she said, turning around to gaze back at it as if she were seeing it for the first time. “It has centuries of history.”

“I have heard the tales,” Chan remarked. “From when I was a boy.”

You tried not to snort, not wanting to relive any memories of Chan from his boyhood. Grace’s careful eyes, however, seemed to detect something, and she looked at you with a curious gaze. “Well, I can show you to your quarters.”

“No need, I’m sure one of your guards will know the way. I think Y/N has been waiting for some time with you. I’ll leave you both alone,” he said, even without your prompting, and your sister gave you a familiar smile.

“As you wish,” she said with a little curtsy, beckoning a guard forward with stern orders to help the Wolf King settle in while you and Grace took a stroll of the grounds.

You held your breath, not wanting your impatience to show as the arrangements were made. Only once Chan had started in the direction of the Castle, guards following him closely, did you exhale. Reaching for Grace’s hand, and tugging her forward.

“No need to drag me!” Grace chuckled at your actions, and she linked your arms together, steering you toward the familiar meadows.

You both settled into easy conversation as it always seemed to happen, topics flowing from one to another. There was a lot to catch up on, things left unsaid from your sad exchange of letters. Rumors swirling around the highlands, and stories from your own homeland that you consumed greedily, excited for any mention of your little Kingdom.

Even if you didn’t really belong to it anymore.

You wanted to walk forever, to keep going beyond the highlands. Escaping to a distant land with just you and Grace. A place where you could both live in peace and go about your days just chatting and reading together by the fireplace as you did when you were children.

She laughed at your complaints, forcing you to return to the Castle when the sun had started to set. Thankfully, you didn’t go all the way inside just yet, and the two of you sat down at one of the picnic tables in the gardens. As you settled next to Grace, bowing politely to the maids who brought you both a cup of tea, you frowned as you recognized Chan between the hedges, strolling along with Hyunjin, Grace’s King, down the trodden paths between the mazes.

You did your best to ignore him, focusing instead on the moment you had with your sister. The setting sun was warm as you reclined your head, eyes closed as you accepted the gracious touch—burning just as hot as your sister’s intense stare.

“Do you have something to say?” you huffed. “I can feel you looking at me.”

Her smile was clear in her tone. “You just seem...different.”

“How so?”

“Like you’ve been tamed.”

Your eyes flew open at the comment, glaring at her. “Stuck in an arranged marriage, you mean?”

“Mine was arranged as well, but you can rest assured that I don’t take the same comfort from my particular suitor.”

“I hardly take comfort from the Wolf King,” you argued, but Grace simply shrugged.

“You’ve never seen things as I do.”

“What’s so bad about Hyunjin anyway?” you asked instead, to direct the conversation away from Chan,

Her smile curdled. “He keeps busy with his whores,” she said, shocking you with such an accusation.

“Grace-”

“Don’t.” Your sister sighed. “There’s nothing you can do.”

She attempted to restore her previous smile, looking back over your shoulder with a sigh. “I like your Wolf King,” she eventually said. “He cares about you a lot. I haven’t seen him take his eyes away from you once.”

Grace must be imagining things. “He’s tolerable at best,” you decided, earning yourself a sigh from your sister.

“My how your perspective has changed,” she remarked, finally turning her attention to the lukewarm tea in front of her. “You were kicking and screaming when you first learned of the marriage.”

“It is something that was forced on me!”

“But you’re not the only one, Y/N,” Grace said with a tone filled with sadness.

Suddenly, you felt chastened and guilty for even protesting her. “For us both, it has created nothing but discomfort.”

“I think there is potential in your match,” Grace argued. “You resist because you are stubborn in nature, but I think there could be good things for you if you just tried to make it work. Wouldn’t it be better, sister, to live with him as lovers than as cold strangers?”

“He is too wild for marriage,” you weakly protested. But your argument held no merit, and you hated the logic in her words, turning away to glare into the distance.

Night passed before your eyes, like the dimmest flicker, and you had never been more unhappy to greet the rising sun.

It seemed that all good things inevitably came to an end, and you were holding back tears when you parted from Grace the next morning, holding the embrace for far too long. Even as you allowed Chan to help you back onto the horse, positioned directly behind him on the saddle, you kept your gaze trained behind you, watching Grace grow smaller and smaller.

Until she was gone.

Your heart was heavy when you returned to Chan’s castle that same afternoon, but your foul mood didn’t last for long. Distracted as you were, surprised by the bustling activities throughout the grounds, everyone scrambling for something you couldn’t identify. “Our moon festival,” Chan explained. “We will be shifting tonight.”

Oh, right. You had forgotten about that part, too distraught reminiscing on your brief moment of freedom with Grace. “I almost forgot.”

“There will be a feast tonight,” he explained. “We will both join as King and Queen.”

You scowled at the idea. “As you wish.”

Chan frowned at the comment. “You must be tired from the journey,” he continued, choosing not to react to your passive comment. “Feel free to rest in our quarters. I will come get you later.”

You agreed with a half-hearted grunt of acknowledgment. Sleep did sound like a much-needed relief from the exhaustion threatening each unsteady step you took up the stairs. It was what you blamed your disorientation on, barely noticing when Chan leaned in to give you a chaste kiss on your cheek.

That same spot burned under the barely-there attention. But you chose to ignore it, instead focusing on how your feet were throbbing when you landed on top of your bed with a huff, allowing tears to escape as you gave yourself a moment to purge the nasty emotions that had built after leaving the Highlands. Unable to do so as you rode behind Chan.

There were too many different emotions piled on throughout the day, mixing with a heady combination of your exhaustion from traveling. Countless thoughts also swirled through your head, and it was inevitable that you would fall under, losing yourself to the easy promise of sleep. An easier task than grappling with your conflicted feelings.

Darkness greeted you like an old friend, and your dreams were wild. One moment you were back with Grace, strolling through the meadows. The next, you found yourself in an empty forest, shadows chasing each breath evaporating on cold air, ensnared by a pair of red eyes in the thick foliage.

You stumbled on the undergrowth, falling backward ungracefully. You only had the wherewithal to put a hand over your face, trying to block everything out, as those eyes descended on you. Fear caught in your throat, and it was the lasting image that haunted you as you jerked upright in bed, barely withholding a scream when those same eyes met you in the real world.

“Y/N.”

Chan’s voice was deep, guttural in its intensity, and filled with concern. You flinched when fingers came out to gently remove sweaty bangs from your eyes, heart thunderous inside your chest. His hand paused in its motions, and for a fleeting second, you thought you might drown in his stare.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “Bad dreams.”

“I see.”

There was a question in his tone, but you didn’t know how to provide an answer, choosing instead to gently push his hand away. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

He nodded, lower lip caught between his teeth. “If you’re certain...”

You studied him for a moment, wishing that you could confide in him. But there was still a great distance between you, perhaps put there by your own accord, but heavy in its existence. “I shall get ready.”

Chan allowed you the space, agreeing to meet you in the hallway as you rose to get dressed, finding the dress that had been laid out for you by the maids. You slipped the fabric over your body, shivering as the silkiness slid across your skin like a lover’s caress.

True to his word, Chan was waiting patiently on the other side of the door, and you hesitated before taking the outstretched hand offered to you. Unprepared for when it pulled you in closer, under the scrutiny of his affectionate gaze. “Beautiful,” he declared, nostrils flaring as if taking in the scent of the perfume you sprayed.

“Thank you,” you offered in return, choosing to keep silent as he led the way, helping you down the stairs in your heels.

For once, you willingly stayed close to Chan, especially as you approached the Great Hall where the festivities would take place. Chan led you into the dining room, perhaps a bit too hastily, uneasy with the weight of his people’s stares boring down upon your figure. Dressed simply in that white gown—pure, as you had always remained—and looking entirely out of place amongst battle-hardened soldiers.

You caught Changbin’s stare from across the room as you sat at the head of the table next to the King. There was lust in his gaze. And it deeply unsettled you, to the point that even Chan caught your shiver.

He followed your gaze to Changbin who looked away at once. “Tradition says that the King can share his mate,” Chan whispered. “But I will not share you with him. So he can only look.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. So you didn’t say anything in return. “I didn’t know.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Chan stood, addressing the room. “Let’s feast together, comrades! We run together at the moon’s highest cycle!”

A chorus of cheers and howls greeted his words, and everyone started to fill their plates, easy conversation flowing between the wolves like the smell of the delicious-looking platters laid out before you. Still, your stomach revolted, swimming in circles as you picked at the helping Chan had served you. You wrinkled your nose when his grease-stained fingers brought a piece of chicken to your lips, and you forced yourself to take it from him.

Chan sighed as you chewed, forcing the morsel down your throat as it stung. “I won’t be with you tonight, of course. We will likely stay out in the moonlight until dawn. But I will return in the morning.”

“Okay.” You shrugged, seemingly indifferent. Some time to yourself seemed nice. And you weren’t keen on being outside when they were no longer human.

“You don’t have to be miserable here, my Queen,” Chan suddenly said, tone taking on a hardened edge. Perhaps the first time he had ever sounded stern with you. “Wolves mate for life, and they choose their partners seriously”

You contemplated his words, chosen ever so carefully. “I - I will try,” you managed, recalling Grace’s advice from the previous day.

To live as lovers rather than strangers.

He hummed at your agreement, eyes glued to your form as he appraised you with something akin to curiosity. “Don’t roam so far from the castle tonight. It isn’t dangerous, but it is your first time. Of course, there’s usually nothing to fear in the gardens.”

There was a layered hint in his words, but you chose not to think about it too much, simply nodding your head as you resumed your task of picking at your food. There was nothing wrong with the offering in front of you, but your newfound uneasiness mixed with your emotional charge from earlier—it had not yet completely dispelled itself from your system—left an unpleasant ache in your chest.

As if something was missing…

Later that night, long after the wolves left the castle, you realized you couldn’t sleep even if you tried, listening to the chorus of howls from outside the castle walls. They rang through the night, loud and clear, and harmonized with one another as if perfectly in sync. Perhaps they were since Chan and his wolves shared a tight bond, and you wondered what it must be like to be so perfectly in tune with one another.

It was these thoughts that plagued you, and even as midnight came and went, you grew more restless. You resolved to walk through the castle, to quell your thoughts and ease your mind. Even as your footsteps echoed through the halls, you found yourself becoming more awake instead of the opposite effect.

Fresh air would be nice, you thought until you remembered the wolves outside. But then again, Chan did promise you that the gardens would be safe. You could trust him, right? Or was that the problem? Your lack of trust in someone meant to be your partner.

You resolved yourself in that moment to try. And if that meant venturing out into the gardens, then no one could accuse you of being silent and passive. This was your attempt at trying, and if it ended badly, then you would have all the more leverage to ignore him.

However, despite your attempts to steel your resolve, you found your heart beating impossibly fast when you greeted the moonlight outside. Each lungful of air that you forced down your lungs felt like sharp knives attacking your flesh. Gaze swimming in front of you, footsteps unsteady as you entered the hedge maze surrounding the gardens.

You inhaled deeply, trying to find comfort in the familiar smell of the foliage. There was a strange air of peace surrounding you, and that was all the solace you needed to keep going, admiring the way the colors of the blooming flowers bled in a different light. It was easy to grow distracted by the sight, as beautiful as it was, and perhaps you could blame your wandering eye for failing to adequately identify the rustling of something large in the undergrowth of the forest.

You hummed to yourself, leaning down to run your fingers over the soft petals of a rose. Its usual red was subdued somehow, under the moon’s glow, and you smiled at the effect, completely ignorant of a different red seeping through the hedges near your right.

It wasn’t until a gentle whimper sounded that you jerked to a stop, hand fluttering to cover your chest as you whipped around to locate the source of the sound. And what stood before you, as powerful as the looming mountains above the castle, nearly had you falling to your knees.

Except, you realized upon a second cursory glance, that there was something uncannily familiar about the beast in front of you, and it only took you another moment to make the connection. A gasp fell from your lips when you realized that it was the wolf from your childhood—the one you had found that day Chan visited your home for the second time. The one you played with in the gardens. The one you spent time with just talking and believing it was nothing more than a common wolf.

You stumbled then, recognizing the now familiar crimson eyes looking back at you—the same ones that belonged to your husband. The wolf, your Wolf King, butted his giant head against your outstretched hand, giving an affectionate lick to your fingertips.

“I understand,” you whispered, unable to decipher the emotion in your voice, but one thing that you knew for certain—there was a clear absence of fear. Because you had never feared this wolf, always approaching it with happiness, completely ignorant of its true state.

The wolf gave you a meaningful look, and you were struck by the humanness of the gesture. Understanding dawned on you—Chan had always known. He had always known it was you—the one his wolf had chosen. The girl who had never shown fear to a beast that others considered a monster.

You had known Chan for your entire life without even realizing it, and your eyes welled with tears, watching him toss back his head and release a spine-curdling howl. One that was joined by a chorus of beautiful melodic cries, merging and joining together, and reaching down to your very bones.

You dropped to your knees then—a mere speck before the Wolf. You cried without fear, and this time, the tension between you and your King vanished like the stars in the night sky when dawn cracked across the horizon.

Three Months Later

On most mornings, Chan was gone before you woke up, and that left you with a disconcerting feeling of disappointment. You supposed there was much to do for the King of the Castle, but lately, it made you ache for something you couldn’t quite discern.

For the past several months, you found yourself opening up to the Wolf King in ways you would’ve never imagined. The truth of who he was, the Wolf from your childhood, along with Grace’s well-intentioned advice, had managed to crack through the stoic guard you had raised from the moment you bound yourself to him.

He taught you about the bond—how, even if you weren’t a Wolf and couldn’t experience the same emotions, he could feel each flicker of happiness or stroke of sadness as it moved through you.

You had not known of this connection before—because of your stubborn nature—and you would always regret resisting it. But things were better, and you could see the beauty in the bond and how truly spectacular it was to feel and understand another person so intimately. It made you wonder—for longer and longer periods of time—just how deep you could make that bond.

Curiosity weighed heavy on you, and your eyes cracked open at a gentle knocking on the door—an opportunity presenting itself when you recognized a familiar servant girl entering your room. “Good morning, Y/N,” she said, and you nodded in return.

At first, you had kept yourself closed off to the other maids, but this one in particular, Ivy, had been insistent. It was hard to deny her, especially when she became your best teacher, indulging you in learning everything related to the wolves and their way of life.

She was also quite willing and open to help you with anything, even if it involved the more intimate parts of your relationship with the Wolf King. You brought it up again that morning, growing more and more confident, especially since Ivy was completely shameless when it came to that sort of thing.

“I thought about your words from the other night,” you opened the conversation, watching as she put your breakfast down onto the table.

“You’ll have to remind me.” There was a teasing note in her tone, and you glowered at the playful look she shot in your direction.

“We spoke about the King,” you said. “You told me things…what I can do to please him.”

“I remember.” She took a step closer, and you were wary of the look in her eyes. “Does he not fuck you well?” Ivy asked, and her tone was absent of the same filter that would stop your tongue.

Still, you were embarrassed, looking down at your feet, wondering how to disguise the truth. “It doesn’t feel good when it seems like he just uses me to get himself off.”

That much was true as you had heard Chan masturbating next to you on countless nights, and your name often fell free from his lips.

“I see.” Ivy nodded. “He doesn’t know better. He was taught that a good alpha fucks his mate and makes sure that she is pregnant for him.”

You winced at her blunt explanation. “Is that all...wolves need?”

“Not necessarily,” Ivy said with a bright smile. “I can teach you...if you want.”

“Teach me?” you asked, gasping when Ivy placed a hand on your chest, forcing you to fall back on the bed.

She was all smiles when she crawled into your lap, grabbing your hands and securing them to her waist. You gasped when she started rocking her hips into your own, feeling the pleasant ache resonate up and down your spine. “The most important lesson of them all,” Ivy said with a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “The art of seduction.”

“I - Ivy...”

“Tell me, Y/N,” Ivy interrupted your ramblings, leaning down so that the tips of your noses brushed together. “Would you like that? Seducing your wolf? Driving him to the point where he can’t resist taking you?”

You moaned around your response. “Yes! Please show me.”

Her hips rocked harder into yours, and you could see white forming at the edges of your vision. “Leave it to me.”

And you did, surrendering to her touches, and the wicked way she showed you all the ways to drive a King mad.

The following night, you bravely waited for your Wolf King to return from patrol, wearing nothing but a sheer robe that left little to the imagination. Sitting on the edge of your shared bed, you caught each breath as it rattled between your lungs. Nervousness eating away at your resolve and leaving the poor skin around your cuticles abused by your touch.

Ivy’s advice rang clear in your mind as if she were there with you, holding your hands between her own as she taught you how to please the King. You blushed at the memory, hands covering the bare skin beneath your robe, caressing the delicate flesh as she had done the night before. Demonstrating to you the best ways to please a man, and to make him beg for you.

That kind of power held its curious appeal, and you thought about it constantly. Wondering what it would be like to make Chan lose his mind to the sin of your smell and touch. You could hardly wait, bouncing your leg and jostling the flimsy material of your coverings.

Thankfully, your Wolf King didn’t make you wait for very long, punctual as always in these recent times of peace in joining you during the evenings. The easy smile he always offered you vanished as soon as he closed the door behind him, eyes locked on your figure clad in so very little.

“Be assertive.” You recalled Ivy’s words, and you stood on shaky legs to take a few tentative steps towards him. The implication was not lost in translation. You could barely get out a greeting before Chan was on you in seconds, gently pushing you back against the wall. He pressed his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, initiating the first indulgent kiss that lit a fire that you felt down to the tips of your toes.

“Then have me,” you said against the purse of his mouth, tongue tracing that full bottom lip. His gaze widened perceptibly, holding you at arm's length.

“What do you mean?”

“Take me the way you want,” you replied. “I’m ready. You love me, don’t you?”

The intensity in that gaze you had started to yearn for burned even brighter. “You know that I love you Y/N, and I understand why it would be hard for you to believe. I’m more than willing to take this chance to show you.”

He pulled away despite the tight grip you kept on his powerful bicep. Even so, you kept your eyes open as wide as possible to enjoy the scene playing out in front of you when he kissed you again. You curled your fingers into his thick black hair, remembering Ivy’s advice, and pulled his mouth against yours, crushing your lips to his. Chan’s chest rumbled as he kissed you fiercely in return, grabbing onto your arms as his tongue plundered the hot cavern of your mouth.

Your lungs screamed in protest, and you pulled away suddenly, shivering at his resounding whimper. You opened your eyes, keeping your hands in his hair to hold it back from his crimson orbs. You found the lust there, making his eyes appear darker. “It’s so hard for me to do this,” you said softly. “I- I want to please you…”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Chan replied. He pressed his hips into yours and you felt something hard against your stomach. “Y/N,” Chan murmured, leaning into your neck to inhale deeply. “I want you more than anything else.”

You shivered as you felt his other hand come to the sleeve of your gown, slowly sliding it down your shoulder. His fingertips slid across your skin, weakening your resolve. His lips followed his touch, peppering soft kisses along the exposed skin. He tugged on the fabric more and you felt the fabric at your right breast start to fall, slowly exposing the flesh to him. His blazing eyes looked down at what he had uncovered, as his hand moved up to hold your breast in his palm. You moaned when his thumb started to rub against your nipple, growing alarmed at the sudden ache between your legs. Like before, his lips soon replaced his fingers and you cried out when he gently nipped the sensitive skin.

He suddenly tugged the fabric back up, releasing your wrists so that he could have both hands when he grabbed the sides of your robe and tugged it aside to reveal your bare skin to him. Your hands fell to your sides as your chest heaved up and down to match each of your panting breaths. Clad in the lingerie Ivy had helped you pick out the previous night.

Chan’s eyes were glued to your bare torso. With a moan of his own, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he trailed his mouth down, over the soft skin of your throat, down your chest, and between the valley of your breasts, over your smooth stomach down to the top of your lace panties. Looking up at you with hungry, lust-filled eyes, Chan started to tug the fabric down your legs.

Clenching your fists against the wall, you couldn’t begin to describe what you felt when he pressed a kiss against the front of your panties, holding your thighs in his strong hands. Standing back up to his full height, he pulled his shirt off next, tossing it onto the floor. You breathed out deeply as your eyes greedily took in the sight of his muscled torso. Timidly, you reached out a hand, aware of his eyes watching your movements as you hovered your palm over his firm abdomen. “Touch him with your fingertips,” Ivy’s words whispered against your ear. He groaned, bracing his arms on either side of you, moving his head against the wall next to your ear. You heard Chan’s husky voice whisper: “Baby, please touch me.”

Your eyes fluttered at his request, and you placed both palms on his hard stomach, moving them up and feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. Your hands danced across his pectorals, rising along with the muscles. You moved your palms over his shoulders and then back down, pausing when you hit the top of his pants. Before you could muster up the courage to move any lower, Chan’s lips were back on yours, kissing you senseless. You wrapped your arms around his neck, working your mouth against his, feeling your lips become swollen from his kisses. As your tongues touched, you felt Chan’s hands return to your thighs, lifting them so that you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his trim waist. Holding you against him, he carried you into over to the bed to deposit you on top. You missed his warmth as soon as he was gone and opened your eyes to meet his black gaze.

This was your chance. You remembered Ivy’s words and scrambled to get in position. Present. The command burned its way through your whole being as if you had no control over it. Instead, you turned on your hands and knees, arching your back and keeping your ass held high in the air.

You had never done this before, and you felt so exposed, but at the same time so good, so right, and you restrained yourself from trying to cover up against the shameless crimson stare watching you.

Suddenly, all went quiet, prompting you to glance over your shoulder. The Wolf King was staring at your ass, his mouth slightly agape. “Good girl,” was all you heard before Chan dove down abruptly to taste your dripping cunt, dragging his tongue all the way up to the source of the wetness leaking from you with a single, hot swipe, before latching on and sucking eagerly at the sensitive skin around your opening.

You keened at the sensation and shivered at his satisfied grunts and moans as he took his fill of your taste. It made you want to please him. To do whatever it took to make him completely lose his mind.

“Chan!” You moaned out, reaching beneath him to flick at your neglected clit. “More!”

Your demand did not go unanswered. With a grunt, Chan yanked your ass up higher for a better angle, digging his hands into the plush flesh of your hips. His touch was rough, and strong, undoubtedly leaving marks behind, but you absolutely loved it. And when the wiggling muscle of his tongue finally pushed inside, you cried out in absolute bliss and pleasure. Time itself seemed to slow down as that tongue relentlessly moved inside you, searching for that spot that could make you see stars and, once found, pressing down hard. Again and again, Chan dipped inside with his tongue, and each time you moaned for him. It didn’t take you long until your body tensed and shuddered, squeezing around the intrusion as you rode out your orgasm.

With a satisfied groan, Chan released your hips, and you collapsed on your stomach, still aching for him.

You attempted to look back at Chan, groaning when you realized he was pushing down his pants and underwear, freeing his stiffening cock before crawling back over you. You were met with a flurry of kisses, on your lips, your cheeks, and your neck, before his tongue trailed lazily over your chest and down to the delicate curls damp from your release.

You squirmed under him as he held himself up on his arms, dragging his eyes unbearably slow from your face and down to your toes. He moved one finger down over your stomach, and you watched it enter the forest of blonde curls around your center. Panting, and nearing combustion, you found yourself instinctively thrusting your hips up, begging him for more than just touches. Growling, he practically shoved your hips back to the bed, reaching down and jerking his thick cock with rough strokes. He abruptly flipped you over onto your back, craning his neck to look down into your eyes. “Let me make love to you, Y/N.”

His words sent a flurry of heat straight to your core. You had never had sex before, but you wanted it desperately. You told him as much and could see him visibly shaking. “I’ll go slow,” he promised, kissing your lips tenderly, before reaching down to line himself up at your entrance. You closed your eyes and winced as he pushed into you. Pliant and soft from his earlier ministrations, the bulbous head found little resistance as it breached your cunt.

You could feel his face bury itself into your shoulder, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the bedding, as if it was taking everything he had to go this slow. Once he was buried inside of you completely, you groaned, adjusting to the sudden intrusion. You could feel him still above you, and his teeth teased the skin at your shoulder. “Son of a bitch,” he growled. “It’s taking every ounce of control I have not to flip you over and fuck you senseless.”

His words, as crude as they were, only served to heighten your arousal. “Move,” you said, grabbing his black hair and pulling his face to yours. You kissed him quickly. “I’m fine.”

He needed no further encouragement, as he slowly pulled out before pushing back in. You could see the sweat breaking out across his forehead from the exertion, causing strands of his hair to stick to his forehead. His right hand moved behind you to grip the headboard as his hips slowly rocked against your own. As good as it felt, you could see he was about to lose it. “Faster,” you told him, and he complied, speeding up his thrusts and allowing some of the tension to escape his body. It was a little painful, especially when he let out a low growl and really started grinding his hips.

You could feel it building inside, the pleasure of his rough movements far outweighing the discomfort. You let out another moan as he moved in and out, feeling the smooth friction all the way to the tips of your toes. The Wolf King chose this moment to draw his hips back, dragging his length out to the tip, before slamming it back inside with a powerful thrust, rocking your body to the point that you felt your vision turn white for a moment. Without giving you time to recover, Chan repeated the motion over and over again, speeding up and adjusting the angle to relentlessly hit deep inside, hips bumping your clit with every smooth grind.

He grunted from his efforts, one hand on the headboard while the other came to grab your breast, his lips sucking at your neck. For your part, you arched your back against him, allowing your hips to come up a little to meet his movements as he hit even deeper inside of you, just barely kissing your cervix. Your fingernails scraped down the smooth skin of his back at this new angle. He moaned when your nails dug into his flesh, bringing his lips up to yours and you kissed him feverishly, tasting him like your life depended on it. One of your hands curled into his smooth black hair while the other gripped his bicep tightly, sighing happily as you felt the muscles move.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to not feel overwhelmed by all of the things he was making you feel. Buried deep inside of you, you could feel him hit all the right spots, sending waves of pleasure to your tight center. Meanwhile, his lips were working magic against yours, leaving you breathless.

You could feel an intimate warmth building inside of you the longer he snapped his hips against yours. Groaning, you let out a cry as you felt something inside of you break open, releasing wave after wave of heat through your core, leaving your body drowning in pleasure.

There was a haze of lightheadedness clogging your senses, and you almost didn’t even realize the swell pushing against your ass, until it breached your core. “Chan!” you hissed at the combination of pain and overwhelming pressure, retreating and then swelling again as he ground that hot mass against you.

“My knot,” he groaned, and you could feel the heat from his chest against your breasts as he pressed even closer.

You vaguely recalled Ivy warning you about this, telling you that it would be hard to prepare for the massive instrution. You felt a spike of fear as it stretched you even further, and you worried that your virgin body would suffer. All you could do was grit your teeth and bury your head into the blankets beneath you, feeling the swell of his knot pressed against the cleft of your ass. You fisted the sheets between your hands. He would split you in half, and then you would be nothing.

“Y/N!” he growled, slowing his hips to a timid roll as his knot locked between you both, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt his release flood your insides, filling you to the point that your lower stomach had started to swell from his cum.

He groaned as you both came down from your highs, and you gently petted your finger through his unruly curls. He experimentally rolled his hips to test how firmly the knot was locking him inside and it wouldn’t budge. Your cunt squeezed the knot, eliciting another grunt from Chan, another twitch, and another spurt of hot cum inside of you.

The pop didn’t swell until Chan was fully seated, his thick cock barely able to seat itself fully between your pulsating walls. It was a painful stretch, of course, but you were hardly focused on it.

Chan continued to hump against you, long after his release and teetering on the cusp of oversensitivity, but those seductive hips had lost their rhythm. It was only moments later, as Chan pulled away from your lips and buried his face into your chest, that he growled when something warm filled your center. You let your hand wander down his spine, stroking along the individuals knots. You could feel him breathing hard above you, and you tried to soothe him back to normal.

You were locked together for a long time, and you were almost asleep when Chan was finally able to pull out, collapsing onto the mattress next to you, looking up at the ceiling. You watched as his chest rose and fell quickly until you could barely see it move at all, signifying his return from his high. Your own breaths came out much shorter, and you were aware of the sweat that coated your skin.

You watched as Chan ran his hand through his dark hair, moving it out of his face. Looking over at you, he turned on his side and used one hand to bring you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist. You hummed in delight as your chests pressed together, moving in sync with each other. Chan’s eyes scanned over your face as he leaned in and kissed your forehead. “I love you Y/N,” he said. voice rumbling. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

You were barely coherent, collapsed against the sheets with a line of drool pooling out from your mouth. Closing your eyes, you let your head fall against his chest, savoring his warmth. “I trust you,” you said softly, and you could feel him sigh in relief. Simply holding you against him, surrounded by his warmth, you suddenly felt very much like you belonged.

“You and I have always been destined,” Chan whispered, and for the first time since you had taken your place as his Wolf Queen, you weren’t afraid.

Instead, you were irrevocably alive.

#stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x you #bang chan #bang chan smut #chan smut #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #chan x female reader #chan oneshot #bang chan oneshot #chan imagines

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whispering-about-the-tmnt · 2 months

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Some headcanons regarding TMNT physiology

Over the years, I have come up with some headcanons regarding how I believe the Ninja Turtles' bodies work. I thought that perhaps it might be nice to finally share them with all of you.

These don't apply to all the iterations, of course, but they are pretty well universal in my mind, and I tend to incorporate most of them into my fanfics.

The Turtles (like leatherback sea turtles, echidnas, and some dinosaurs) are mesotherms, meaning they are neither warm nor cold blooded. They are, instead, in a middle-ground: they internally generate heat, but not to a constant temperature. In the Turtles' case, they will shiver when cold, and their bodies will not shut down right away when the temperature dips too low, though they may lose some energy and find it hard to concentrate.

Unlike many other modern reptiles and amphibians, who have a three-chambered heart, the Turtles have four-chambered hearts (like mammals and dinosaurs) that are larger and stronger than average human hearts and located at the center of their chests.

While the average human blood capacity is around five liters, the Turtles have about seven. Much of the blood flows under the shell -- a remnant of their lives as ordinary turtles, whose own blood does so in order to warm them when they bask. This means that the Turtles could lose close to three liters of blood before dying, while a human would only be able to lose two.

Their blood is also highly efficient at clotting, but that also means that storing blood for transfusions is difficult, and so must be directly transfused from one turtle to another in emergency situations.

Owing to their extensive circulatory system, they also have a larger lung capacity than humans and more oxygen-rich blood, and so are able to hold their breath for extended periods of time without adverse effects. Other than this, the Turtles' respiratory system is very much like humans', utilizing a diaphragm to inflate and deflate their lungs.

Like regular turtles, they do not have ribs, but rather their carapaces and plastrons serve that purpose, and they have muscles under their shells that keep their internal organs right where they belong.

Also like regular turtles, their spines curve along the insides of their shells. A direct hit on the center of their shells, then, could cause damage to their spinal column and nervous system, but fortunately their vertebral shields offer a fair amount of protection, so it would take quite an impact.

The Turtles are highly resistant to most infections and diseases, which increases their immunological responses. They do not get sick easily, and they recover quickly.

While their scales are not apparent, they are integrated into their skin, making it tougher than human skin. It takes a very hard hit to raise a bruise, and it is difficult to cut through without a very sharp or pointed blade.

Their bones are similar to humans, but are more resistant to breaking. They also heal quicker and stronger if they are broken.

Their muscles are also very close to human-like, but they are stronger than an average human due to compensating for the extra weight they carry in their shells. Because of this, their ligaments and tendons are also tougher, and it is difficult for them to have a joint dislocated.

Their sense of smell is more acute than humans, but not to an extreme degree. They are also not as bothered by foul smells (though this has more to do with living in a sewer than their physiology).

Their eyes are a bit tougher and more resistant to damage than human eyes due to a protective membrane that covers them. They see a bit better than humans in dark places and underwater.

Their hearing is somewhat more attuned to lower frequencies than human hearing, and is not dependent on external ears but rater an internal auditory system (making direct damage to their hearing unlikely).

They are capable of being knocked unconscious, but it takes a significant impact. Permanent or lingering damage to their brains is unlikely due to their structure, and so they also do not tend to suffer the same side-effects that humans would in the same circumstances (nausea, memory loss, etc.).

Although their nutritional needs are similar to humans, they do not need to eat every day, and in fact can get by quite well without food for a week if necessary (though they won't enjoy it). When food is readily available, however, they will eat as much as possible to store up energy. Their metabolism does not slow down when they do not eat, so overexerting themselves when they haven't had any food for a while can burn them out suddenly.

Their sleep schedules are much like most diurnal animals, though they are able to stay awake for extended periods of time and can get by on little sleep, if necessary. There have been times when they have been awake for days on end, getting by on short one hour naps here and there. In general, though, they like to have a regular sleep/wake cycle.

Like other reptiles, the Turtles never stop growing throughout their lifetimes; however their growth is slow, topping off at about 1-2 inches every five years.

Does anyone have anything they would like to add to the list? I actually had fun compiling it!

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amourrs · 15 days

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some people in this fandom are truly clammy palmed little lunatics who have never attempted to be normal for a day in their lives. writing reader as having all the characteristics of a literal child whilst claiming that you are engaging in “safe kink” does in fact make you a weirdo freak and i do hope you trip over and bash your head hard enough to knock some sense into yourselves. if calling glorified pedophilic media by its true name makes me a kink shamer then i’m proud to be one! it’s borderline laughable to put an 18+ warning on a fanfic where the reader is so childlike they might as well be a minor. no grown adult is so clueless about sex and basic biology and anatomy unless they have physically been kept from all aspects of the outside world for their entire lives, and infantilising female reproductive organs by calling them “cunny” or “princess parts” is creepy and gross. also using pictures of children and children’s toys/clothing as the header for these fics just further proves that you are deranged and need to be sectioned. you freaks see no problem with the fact that your creepy little perv fics promote weird behaviours and treat pedophilia as a fun kink as if it is not a) illegal and b) DISGUSTING! if anyone in real life called a vagina a cunny i know damn well i would call them a fucking freak so i see no real reason why that shouldn’t extend to the internet: if you write your reader inserts as extremely child-like and use infantilised language to describe sexual organs and acts, you are a fucking freak and need to log off.

+ further explanation.

#and if you disagree please hard block me you utter imbecile #the last of us #ellie williams #abby anderson #ellie williams smut #abby anderson smut #joel miller #joel miller smut #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #joel miller x reader

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dahliavandare · 2 years

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Working on the next chapter of my fic Preferable and predictive text thought that the b-word I would want to follow “meaty” was “balls”...

I just...

Maybe his balls are meaty. I don’t know.

#i write on my phone #writing fanfic #lambert #in case you were wondering whos meatiness might extend to his balls

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loveindefinitely · 3 months

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༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

05 — THESE THINGS EAT AT YOUR BONES

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

You were seventeen when you enlisted.

Obviously, you had to lie about your age – just a year off, not a drastic difference. The recruiters wouldn’t care enough to double check, anyways. Anyone willing to join their forces was good enough in their books.

You’d been desperate, desperate for a sense of community, for a home, for something to occupy your time with.

Things hadn’t been easy after your mother had passed.

She’d raised you on her own; having taken you from your father before you could realise what a father was. Said he was a bad man, didn’t deserve an angel like yourself. Sometimes, you wished that you’d known him, or at least had a father figure to look up to.

That was rare, however. Your mother had done a great job in raising you – making sure you had morals and looked out for others. Always had a roof over your head, food made with love in your tummy.

It was only three months prior to your enlistment that she passed.

While you were at school, she was shot and killed in your childhood home. The day you walked through that front door, backpack a hefty weight on your shoulders, and saw her wide-eyed corpse on the living room carpet, was the day that a piece of you died.

That night, with the cool fabric of the paramedic’s shock blanket around your frame, you looked up what happens after you die with shaky, blood-stained hands. A question you hadn’t had to consider. Not until then.

The police wrote down your stilted words in their government-issued notepads, attempts of sympathy on their faces.

All you could focus on was the tap tap tap of your foot against the carpet, the chewed up flesh of your inner cheek, and the burning of your eyes.

You had, thankfully, managed a choked up explanation of what you’d seen.

“I came home. From school. She was just. There. On the carpet. Her eyes were open,” you managed to whisper, eyes remaining in your lap.

“How did you feel when you saw her?” The officer asked.

You had half the mind to ask him that very same question. You didn’t, of course.

“I felt that she deserved a better death than this. Sir.”

The time after that passed in quick, blurry memories. A hand on your shoulder here, a trauma nurse there, all the while your mind could only supply you with the image of the one person you had. Gone.

“Here.”

You’d looked up with bloodshot eyes and chapped lips. The man looked to be in his late forties, with greying hair and saggy features. In his hands was a steaming cup of tea – extended towards you. With trembling fingers, you took it from the man.

“Thank you,” you’d murmured, before blowing across the liquid with a soft breath. It rippled with the flowing air, tea leaves simmering on the bottom. If you looked hard enough, you could make out a tree.

“Is it alright if I join you?” He asked, gesturing to the chair in front of you. You nodded, and he moved to get comfortable in his seat, eyes remaining on you. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

That was, funnily enough, the first time you’d heard those words said to you.

“I’m Herschel Shepherd,” the man supplied, with a small, comforting smile. He extended a weathered hand to you, and after a moment, you accepted it with a light shake. “I think I might know who’s responsible for your mother’s death.”

You swallowed. “What? Are you,” you worked your heavy tongue, “Are you in the FBI?”

He loosed a hearty chuckle at that, before shaking his head. “No, kid. I’m a bit higher up than that.”

You didn’t have it in you to push. Not then, not with the smell of blood a consistent rot in your nose. You just nodded, accepting that explanation, squeezing your hands together for comfort.

“There’s been some rumours,” Shepherd leaned his elbows against his knees, lowering himself to meet you at eye level. “Of a secret organisation, searching and killing those affiliated with the army. Especially those who served, and then ran.”

Your brows furrowed, mouth opening and closing around nothing. “What does this have to do. With anything – my mum, she wasn’t –”

“She was, kid,” Shepherd interrupted with a raised hand. “She was a renowned Lieutenant. Served for ten years.”

Tap tap tap, your foot goes.

“She would’ve told me,” you managed out, throat choking up and nostrils flaring. “She wouldn’t have hid that from me. I’d know. You’re lying.”

“She didn’t tell you to keep you safe,” he urged, resting his hand on your bouncing knee in comfort. “But… This is more than just her. This is an attack on our country, on you, kid. I’m investigating this group, their ideals, their plans. You can help.”

You shook your head adamantly. “No. This has nothing to do with me.”

“It has everything to do with you,” Shepherd immediately retorted, and you felt your chest caving in, your shoulders deflating. “It’s up to you. I hope to see you in my regiment, kid.”

Then, he’d stood, and dropped a card onto your lap. Without another word, he left.

It was later that night, when you found yourself near passing out, that you’d read his business card. It had his name, his title – Lieutenant General – and a regiment. You weren’t sure how any of it worked, if you could do this, if you were made for something like the army. That night, you’d studied and watched and learned everything you could about his regiment.

Three months later, you’d stood before him, gun in hand.

He just smiled, knowingly, and clapped a hand on your shoulder. He leaned down and whispered, “Together, we’ll avenge her.”

And you did, under his wing. You set things right.

Your ears ring, the bumps of the vehicle doing nothing to snap you out of your daze. It’s like your insides have turned inside out, every molecule of liquid evaporated with a single name.

“He’s a good man,” you manage to say, breaking the stunned silence of the 141. You don’t dare to look up, to see their expressions, their apprehension. “He saved me. Multiple times. He wouldn’t hurt anyone without a reason, he wouldn’t.”

Even as you say the words, try and plead, you find yourself losing faith. It’s a devastating thing, one that has you wanting to wretch your near-empty stomach.

“We did some digging,” Price murmurs, sounding sorrowful and almost guilty. “We found the truth.”

The entire time that Price retells the intel he and ‘Laswell’ found, you find yourself falling deeper and deeper into your pit of despair. Like you’re clawing with your nails to get out, yet all you’re finding is unrelenting stone, breaking the keratin with every scratch.

By the time that all the information has been told, your body feels as though it’s frozen.

It isn’t until you feel a thumb wipe against your cheek that you realise you’re crying. Finally, finally, you look up, and meet Soap’s mirthful eyes. His thumb is rough where it wipes away your tears, gathering the salty liquid against the ridges of his fingertips.

Could it get worse than this? Worse than being told that the only other man in your life – the only other person you’d trusted – was a bad man? Working with Graves? How hadn’t you known? Why hadn’t Graves told you –

Why. Why. Why?

“He was the closest thing I had to a father,” you manage, feeling almost manic with it. “He – he and Graves, they’re all I have, I can’t, you can’t–”

You barely manage to open the small window before you’re hurling your empty guts, nothing coming out but air and some bile burning the back of your throat. Your throat, eyes, your entire body aches.

Two large hands rub at your back, and you can hear words being said, but you can’t understand them, can’t hear anything but a low buzz in the back of your mind. Your breath comes out in loud, sharp pants, and you can’t help but sniffle as tears roll down your cheeks and drip from your chin.

Your entire life has just been flipped on its head, and you can’t handle it. You are a Colonel, you’re supposed to be impenetrable, but this, this is everything you ever had. Gone with a few words, a single mission.

“It’s okay, lass, fuck,” you can finally make out Soap saying, recognising one of the hands as his. It’s an, admittedly, comforting weight, one that you find yourself leaning back into. “Steamin’ Jesus.”

“Kyle, do you have water?” Price calls out to the front, and soon, a hand directs your head to enter the van once more, an opened water bottle being pressed to your lips. Price holds it, his hand stroking the back of your neck in support. “Have a drink, darlin’,” he encourages, tilting your head back as you swallow the ice-cold water. “There we go,”he murmurs, his touch unrelenting.

“You good, love?” Gaz calls from the front, brows furrowed where he’s half-watching in the rearview mirror.

All you can give him is a small, weak nod, but he seems to accept it.

Your mind is spinning at a mile per minute, shuddering when Price pulls the bottle away and Soap continues to rub your back in calming circles. This is, you think, the one time you’ll allow yourself to be comforted by them. This was already crossing too many of the boundaries you’d put up in your head, a clear violation of the separation you’d planned out.

Ghost, true to his name, remains still where he sits in front of you, calculating as he stares you down.

“What are the chances,” he begins, focus remaining on you even if everyone else’s is suddenly on him, “That General’s personal pet is also Graves’ girl who had a change of heart?”

“Si–” Soap begins, before Ghost cuts him off.

“How do we know she’s not a fuckin’ spy,” he spits out, glaring at you with everything he has, “And we’ve been too fuckin’ stupid to figure it out!”

You’re not in control of your body, at this point. Your emotions are.

With one breath, you pull out the blade hooked to your hollister, grip it in a fist, and grab the scruff of Ghost’s uniform and pull him close. Grabbing his hand, you slide the knife into it, grabbing his wrist, pulling it forward so the knife is pressed against your neck.

“Kill me,” you breathe, chest heaving, eyes burning with rage, “Kill me if you think I’m a spy. Slice the knife through my fucking throat, Lieutenant, do it.”

His irises are blown black, the white of his eyes stark against the grease paint smeared over his visible skin. You can feel his heavy breaths through his mask, brushing against your snarled lips. You pull him even closer, your fist unrelenting against the fabric of his uniform.

There’s an uproar around you, Soap yelling something to you both, Price trying to tug you away by his grip on your upper arm, Gaz trying to both focus on not crashing and whatever the hell is happening behind him.

You’re strong, however. Trained and built for hand-to-hand battle, and you don’t move an inch. Not when you’re so determined, so stubborn.

“Kill. Me.” You hiss, the words quiet enough to only be heard by the man holding a knife to your throat. You lean in closer, and you can feel a small trickle of blood fall down your bared neck, but it’s a thrilling type of pain.

“You’re a crazy bastard,” he spits back, but he notably eases the knife away from your skin. You just lean into it further, more blood being let. “If you keep tryna call bluffs like this, you’ll be sent home in a casket.”

“What home, Lieutenant?” You ask, almost desperate for his answer, a demand. You narrow your gaze, refusing to break eye contact. “If you can find where the fuck I belong, I’ll be happy to die within its walls.”

The two of you standoff, your eyes doing all the speaking, before Ghost allows the blade to fall from his grip, hitting the floor of the van with a clunk. “You win, Sweetheart,” he taunts, the words being breathed against your own mouth, mere millimetres apart. “Congratulations.”

You finally allow yourself to be pulled back, Soap shooting you a shell-shocked look, his jaw clenching as he looks between you both. Price finally eases his grip around your arm, barking, “Don’t pull that shit! One wrong move and –”

“My whole life has been one wrong move,” you grit out, falling back into your seat with shallow breaths. You drag your hand down your face, before resting against the sticky heat of your blood, pooling at the dip of your neck. “What’s one more?”

There’s no response. You don’t hope for one, don’t expect one, but it still leaves you unsteady. Unsure. Even when everyone just sits in an odd sort of limbo for a few minutes, you struggle to come down from that high, that overwhelming need for control.

“Here.”

When you look up, it’s to see Soap, a medkit in his lap. Price is sitting on the other side next to Ghost, talking quietly to him, stern expressions displayed on them both. They seem lost in conversation – a serious one, considering your current situation.

“What’re you doing?” You find yourself asking, watching as he rips open an alcoholic wipe and takes it out, your leg bouncing. He gives you a friendly smile, this side of hopeful.

“Patchin’ ye up, Sweetheart. Goes both ways,” he explains, and your eyes go glassy once more. “Can aye fix ye up?”

You don’t trust your words, so you simply nod, tilting your head back. You find yourself rocked by the rhythm of Gaz’s driving, finding solace in the comfort of semi-safety. Although not as safe as you would’ve been at Graves’ base, there was a sense of… protectiveness that came with being with the 141.

Wincing, you grit your teeth as Soap cleans up the blood from your throat, his gentle ministrations so at odds with his bumbling, charismatic character. He’s precise, careful to not hurt you too much, delicate movements made by harsh hands.

“You sure do like playin’ with fire, lass,” he murmurs, swiping the last bits of drying blood from the hollow of your throat, the tip of his tongue peeking out from between his lips. “Can respect that.”

“I’m sorry for… that,” you sigh, watching as he deposits the used wipe into a hazard bag. Good practice, you think, prioritising avoiding any bloodborne diseases. You’re silently impressed. “Didn’t mean to lose my shit. Just. A lot.”

“I know,” he returns, earnest, opening a bottle of sanitary cream and swiping some onto his finger, bringing it to soothe over your small wound.

“I don’t know who to trust.”

Those words aren’t exactly good ones to say, not to a borderline enemy with his hands on your neck. But it feels like an otherworldly force makes you say them, makes you expose yourself even further to this man. Maybe a taunt, maybe a small punishment for saving his life.

He pauses, but quickly covers up his hesitation with returned fervour. “I don’t envy ya, hen. It’s an absolute shitshow. But…” he grabs some medical tape, cutting it to length to put over your wound. Apparently it’s worse than you’d thought. “Ye heard what happened. Shepherd, Graves, they’re not worthy of ya.”

That gives you pause. Worthy. What made someone worthy? What kind of clarifications?

Did he think he was worthy? Ghost? Price? Gaz?

“You think I’m better than the General?” You raise a brow, attempting to goad him, spark that flame of banter that always seemed to haunt the Scot.

“I know ye are. Seen it with my own eyes.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“We’re nearly back at the safehouse,” Gaz calls from the front, tapping his hands against the steering wheel to a silent rhythm. Price grunts out a reply, and Ghost remains silent, watching. Always watching.

Finishing up his quick first aid job, Soap tilts your head back down with a grip on your chin, his thumb stroking along your bottom lip. “There we go, Sweetheart. Good as new,” he whispers, the corner of his lips tilting into a kind grin.

“How’s the arm?” You find yourself asking, looking to the bandaged ligament. “Feeling alright?”

“Definitely better than if aye’d let it get infected,” he hums, looking down to his arm. “Once this blows over, nurses on base will sort it out.”

You hadn’t noticed before, but you realise that his thigh is pressed against yours, and your leg has stopped bouncing. No more tap tap tap. Just… the feel of fabric against your own, heated by the flesh underneath. The comforting touch of another human, not sexual, not for any reason but to simply… exist.

Ten minutes pass of comfortable silence between you both, before the vehicle comes to a stop, Gaz turning off the engine with a turn of his keys, unbuckling his seat belt and hopping out of the car.

“Out we get,” Price says to you all, gentler than he’d been before. The doors burst open, Gaz flinging the keys back to his Captain, urging the four of you to hop out and head in.

You’re the last to get out, Gaz extending a calloused hand for you to take, ever the gentleman. Accepting it, you jump down, looking to the awaiting men. The Los Vaqueros are rushing inside, talking amongst themselves, relief thick in their words, hands being slapped against each other’s backs.

Price is looking at you as he says, “I think we have a call to make.”

As it turns out, the call is to the last person on Earth you want to talk to right now. In the middle of the same table you’d stood beside Rudy at, mere hours ago, is a computer.

One with General Shepherd’s face on it.

Price had given you the mercy in deciding whether you’d show yourself or not. You still hadn’t made the choice, instead standing off to the side, Gaz and Soap at either side of you. Alejandro stands at the right of the table, and Ghost has his arms folded over his chest at the left.

“You hid this,” Price grips the table, livid, “Why.”

Not a question, not really, more of a command than anything. An order from a Captain.

Shepherd’s response has your blood running cold, reality finally cementing inside of yourself. You claw at your palms when he responds, drily, “We all keep secrets, Captain.”

And, oh, what a slap in the face that is.

“Why the hell wasn’t I informed?” Price snaps, his shoulders rising and falling with each barely restrained breath. He seems to fill out his uniform more than he had before, in the dim light of the room.

The boarded up window allows for a small sliver of sunset to cast against all of you, a small joy in the darkness of the safehouse. And the situation at hand.

“Consider yourself well informed now, John,” Shepherd’s tone lowers, more grating, forceful.

“Oh, that's really fuckin' helpful, General. Thank you. But you're a day late and a missile short. There's three of them – we only found two.”

“Then point yourself in that direction, and fix it,” Shepherd booms, and you can’t help the instinctual flinch of your body. You’d grown up being frightened of his raised voice, the threat that came along with it. Even in the safety of this house, you can’t help your response.

Price scoffs a laugh with no humour, his mouth falling into a grim, dangerous line. “And who fixes you, eh?”

You can hear, more than see, Shepherd’s returning snarl. “I don’t need fixing. I’m a patriot protecting my country.”

Gaz and Soap share a look above your head, but you don’t care, not now. Not when Price stands up, slamming his hand against the table, not when Alejandro curses under his breath.

Not when all you can think about is the empty promises Shepherd made.

“You’re protecting your own ass,” Price cusses, turning back to glare at the man on the screen.

“I do what needs to be done, and no one holds me down with a roll of red tape. I know what's best for the cause.”

Price chuckles, eyes a fire of fury, leaning down once more to the laptop. “You’ve lost your mind, General.”

“And you've forgotten what you're fighting for, John. To do good, you gotta do some bad. When we shit, we bury it, that's how it works,” Shepherd replies, hard and strong in his belief.

You’re at the verge of losing it.

“Yeah,” Price begins, before pointing his finger to the camera, “But we don’t bury each other with it, do we?”

“You need to turn off that side o' your head and face down the real enemy,” Shepherd warns, and it’s the final straw.

“Isn’t that what you told me, Herschel? That the organisation was the real enemy?” You quip, and for a minute, you wonder if he’s ended the call.

That is, until, a choked off voice filters in, “Kid?”

Rushing forward, you turn the laptop to face you, and your entire system seems to revolt as you see the man you once cared for like a father.

“Tell me that you didn’t betray them,” you hiss, leaning in closer, your entire face filling the screen. “Tell me that you didn’t ruin lives – tell me you didn’t make a deal with my Commander behind my back. Tell me, Herschel.”

“You wouldn’t understand –” he begins, but that’s all you needed to know.

Stepping away, you give him a final, cold smile. “Was it worth it?”

“What –” he starts once more, before you grab the handle of your gun, pulling it up to rest as a comforting weight in your hand.

“Was it worth ruining my life? Was it worth ruining this mission?”

“You’re just a kid.”

“I am a Colonel!” You shout, emotions bubbling over as you slam the gun onto the table, eyes blazing. “And when I find you, you’re going to wish you never fucked me over. What was your favourite method? Flaying? Dismemberment?”

“You’ve always been too soft and easy to manipulate,” Shepherd snaps back, voice booming through the speakers.

Your voice is as dangerous as you’ve ever heard it.

“Immolation? That was your favourite, wasn’t it?”

His eyes widen on the screen, seeming to understand, to seemingly take you seriously. Too late. Too fucking late.

“Let’s see if it’s still your favourite when it’s your turn to be the victim,” you slowly say, annunciating every word with clear speech. “Thank you for your teachings, General.”

With that, you slam the laptop screen shut, and prepare to face the fire.

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re @oreo-cream @lalashhyl @someonepleasedateme @letmeapologise @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @inarabee

author's note. im so hyped for all of the future plot points. and romance. ohmygod. yes, ghost does eventually come around. yes, he's the longest slow burn. yes, he's the most intense enemies to lovers. wbk. i also got covid so i have a lot of time to rot in bed and suffer while writing!! ALSOOO there is so much fire symbolism... ;)

your comments mean soso much to me, every time iread one i squeal and feel all excited!! thank u for ur support commenters, i DO read all of them. more than once. <3

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brunetttebaby · 2 months

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ARTHUR MORGAN FLUFF!! people only ever write smut about him☹️ (as if my last fanfics haven’t been only smut)

he’s such a sweet lover. not even just in the bedroom, but in general! he’s loves taking care of his sweet girl, and would do anything and everything for you.

when the gang was in colter, you constantly found it hard to keep warm, and arthur being the walking heater he is, was the first to offer to hold you in his large coat, warming you up almost instantly.

when you’re in trouble with the law, he’s always there to protect you, assuring you everything’s gonna be alright as long as he’s by your side:(( and that’s true! he’s a big burly man, who wouldn’t be afraid of him?!?

sometimes he’ll come into camp injured, and you’ll run over to him, always taking care of his wounds, despite him telling you there’s no need.

“really, darling,” he started, slightly wincing as you pressed a damp cloth to his face. he always got into petty bar fights, and won nearly all of them, of course. “there’s no need for you to do this. ‘s just a scratch.” he continued, letting out a louder groan as you applied pressure on the now bruised skin.

“don’t be ridiculous, arthur. i want to take care of you.” you responded simply, leaning closer to press a kiss to his cheek. he’d let you, groaning at the soreness of it.

he’d be the type of lover to make sure he always got you flowers after being away for an extended period of time. “here darling, i got these for you. i hope you like ‘em.” he said with a slight hesitance in his words. despite being with him for months now, he still worried what you though about him.

“oh arthur, i love them. you’re so sweet.” you took them from his hands, quickly wrapping her arms around him and kissing him softly.

AND HIS KISSES?!? AHHH. he’s such a sweet kisser. well; he can be. he has experience, we know that for a fact. but he’s so soft with his movements. a hand on your waist, another on your cheek to feel the heat radiating.

and i’m ONLY talking about high honor arthur. i’m sorry low honor arthur girl; i can’t.

he’d be an old romantic forever. writing you sweet notes in his pretty handwriting, attached to a drawing of you, or a book he’d think you’d enjoy, anything sweet like that.

AND he REMEMBERS. THE. LITTLE. THINGS.

favorite color? he’s writing it down. your favorite scent? he’s looking for it nearly everywhere! it’s so sweet, you’re not even sure how you got so lucky.

a/n: i was fr rambling but i just love him so much! im sorry for my wlw followers but i just had to(maybe some of you might enjoy this hehe)

#arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader

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ieatstarsforaliving · 7 months

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The Fucking Fight Club (2)

Summary: Hazel tries to control her powers during the first fight club. But because she's a loser, she fucks up. A lot.

Pairing: Spider-Woman!Hazel Callahan x Classmate!Reader

Warnings: Mature language, use of (Y/N), mild violence, mentions of bruises and blood

Word Count: 3866

Note: Okay I know I gave y'all the first chapter yesterday but you guys surprised me with so much likes, I quickly whipped up the next chapter. The ending is kind of bad but lmfao idc. It's extra long cause I probably can't write until next weekend due to fucking midterms. I wish I could drop out and write fanfics all day long. But life is unfair to the gays. - Bia <3

“Okay, before we actually do this, I want Hazel to practice controlling her punches.”

Josie had dragged PJ and Hazel to a hiking trail in the nearest forest. This wouldn’t have been mandatory if Hazel didn’t have the super-strength to murder a human with a single blow, but since she did, Josie wasn’t about to let the feminist self-defense fight club happen without a bit of rehearsal.

“Fine, mom.” PJ rolled her eyes. She was used to Josie’s dramatic cautiousness, but this seemed like a waste of time. She turned to Hazel and offered her face. “Hazel, just relax, and punch me.”

Hazel did a double take. “Punch… punch you?”

“Okay, I don’t like that tone. I know how to take a punch. Something people would always say is ‘PJ knows how to take a punch.’ Come on up.”

“PJ, she literally beat up a grown man with metal octopus arms last week. And the week before that, a man made of indestructible sand. You remember that? On the news? You might know how to take a punch, but you don’t know how to take her punch.”

“That’s why we’re practicing!”

“I meant like practice on a tree or something.” Josie waved towards the nearest tree, standing about 25 feet tall. “Hit a tree, Hazel.”

Hazel shrugged, before pulling back and punching into the middle of the tree. In a split second, the tree quaked under the assault, its massive frame crackling under the exact spot of Hazel’s fist. The bark gave away first, exploding outward in a radial pattern. When she retracted her hand, there was a massive dent on the thick body of the tree, jagged fault lines extending from the center of the impact.

PJ’s eyes widened. “Holy fuck. That could have been my face.”

Josie shook her head. “Okay, so, obviously, you have to calm down. By a lot. Try the same thing, but like, weaken it?”

Hazel nodded. She then gently tapped the tree with her fist.

Josie shook her head again. “That was clearly too weak.”

Hazel sighed. “I don’t know if I can do this, guys. I’m so used to punching psychopathic criminals who want to kill me, so I’m always using at least 90% of my strength.”

“Which is why I brought this.” Josie pulled out a piece of paper from her bag. It turned out to be your face printed on an A4 sheet with a speech bubble that read, ‘punch me!’ “Now, hear me out—”

“-Actually, this is brilliant,” PJ said, taking the paper from Josie’s hands. She taped it to the tree and presented it to Hazel. “Imagine the tree is (Y/N). She’s standing in front of you. She’s sexy, she's wearing a bikini, she’s ready to learn, and she’s asking you to punch her. What do you do?”

Hazel stared at the tree with your face on it. In spite of this entire scenario being outrageously stupid, Hazel’s eyes fixated on the piece of paper, trying to immerse herself in your 2D face. It seemed to be a copy from last year’s yearbook, one that she had spent many hours staring at. She felt weirdly guilty as she wrinkled her eyebrows.

“I don’t really want to punch her.”

“Well, you have to! This is for feminism!” PJ groaned when she saw the hesitancy in Hazel’s face. “Hazel, women like strong, protective people. Why do you think there’s a hulk shrine in the girl’s second floor bathroom? You punch (Y/N) straight in the face, and she’ll immediately fall in love with you.”

“Well–”

“-She will, Josie.”

Hazel nodded. It was worth a try. If she wanted to wrestle with you in this club, she had to try. With a measured breath, Hazel extended her arm, fingers curling into a tight fist. She delivered a punch, focusing on her strength rather than causing harm. The moment of impact was firm but gentle, almost considerate towards the tree’s bark. It was as if the tree had barely registered the encounter, although its leaves were left shaking. She turned to her friends.

“Perfect,” PJ whispered, her eyes glistening in awe. “Let’s go beat some bitches up.”

“Not how I’d word it,” Josie muttered.

That afternoon, you were taking a hike in the same forest with Isabel and Brittany. It was quite calming, walking and talking with your friends in the middle of a beautiful forest. Birds were chirping, winds were breezing– And you guys were completely alone, since nobody really came here, and if they did, it was usually after sunset to do drugs and film porn.

The three of you reached the midpoint of the trail to take a small break, when Brittany pointed at a nearby tree.

“Hey, isn’t that…”

You followed her finger to a tall tree that seemed to be beaten up by someone, with its bark splintered and smashed by a form of impact. And in the middle of its trunk, was a photo of you, with a speech bubble that read ‘punch me!’.

Your heart dropped.

“Oh my god, (Y/N), somebody wants to kill you,” Isabel gasped. She walked up to the tree and ripped the paper off. “Isn’t this from our yearbook?”

You reached out to take the paper from Isabel’s hand and inspected it closely. It was indeed a page from the previous year’s yearbook, with your smiling face captured in a freeze-frame moment of your junior days. The speech bubble, however, had been added later, which meant that someone had deliberately printed your face, edited it, and pinned it to a tree to violently punch it out.

You felt a chill down your body. Who could have done this? You knew it was hard to be friends with everyone from school– but who would despise you enough to do this vicious and also slightly weird property damage to nature?

“We should report it or something, like to a park ranger,” Brittany offered, sensing your panic.

“No, They’re just going to tell us not to come back here wearing shorts,” You sighed. There were no cameras on the trail or anything, and the park rangers were men who were probably going to comment on your appearance instead of the actual problem at hand. “I have to do something about this by myself.”

You needed protection. No, you needed to learn how to protect yourself. You needed teachers who could help you protect yourself from evil highschool men.

You needed Hazel Callahan.

You turned to your friends with a determined face, masking your fear before saying;

“Do you guys want to join a self-defense club with me?”

Isabel and Brittany paused, exchanged glances, then nodded.

“What the fuck. These girls are ugly.”

It was the first club meeting for the feminist self-defense fight club, and there were exactly 8 girls waiting in the gym. Absolutely no sign of you. Hazel laid on the gym mats, trying not to show her disappointment. She reached for her phone, staring at your number in her contacts. She never got to texting you because she was panicking over what to say one night, and was busy fighting off muggings and carjackings every other night.

“Are you stressed? Cause I’m stressed,” Josie muttered, as the advisor for the club hopped in, earning a sharp breath from Hazel.

“Hey, ladies! Let’s get it poppin’ in this motherfucker.”

Hazel blinked. Mr. G was the advisor for this club?

This was going to be absolutely horrendous.

“Alright, uhm… hello, everybody,” Josie tried, looking around the gym filled with girls jumping on trampolines, hula-hooping, scooting, and balance-balling. “Okay, excuse me, sorry, I feel- sorry–”

“-EVEVRYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP.” PJ hit the floor with a broom, each collision echoing through the space with a ‘BANG’.

“This isn’t a little hangout, okay? Oh it’s not a sleepover or playtime. There are serious rules that we need to establish, okay?

“First? Listen to Hazel.”

Hazel lifted her hand in a subtle gesture.

“Second? Be on time. Except for you,” PJ pointed to Mr. G. “You come whenever you want. What time is it?”

“3:30–-”

“-3:30! Club starts at 3:15. Not 3:16, not 3:17. But the door closes at 3:15. No exceptions!”

Hazel smiled. Other than the fact that they were the ones who were actually late, PJ was doing amazing, putting authority towards the three girls and setting the ambiance. PJ could be a menace sometimes most of the time, but when she wanted to get shit done, she got shit done. Hazel was almost too distracted by PJ’s rant—

“-I don’t care, if you’re like, oh, but I had to go get extra help for math because I need to get a full ride because my mom lives in a trailer and she loves her boyfriend more than me, bleh blah blarh blargh– Shut up. My dad left me and I’m incredibly punctual–”

–That she didn’t even notice you walking into the gym with Isabel and Brittany following closely behind. When she did notice, her heart seemed to pick up speed, her lips curling into a smile even without realizing. Josie recognized the smile– one that Hazel only had when she was talking about her crush— and Josie turned around, motioning to PJ that the holy trinity had entered the gym.

Your eyes met with Hazel’s, and you waved in acknowledgement. She almost dropped her notebook as she looked around to check if you were waving to someone else, and then she fumblingly waved back. You giggled. Hazel had this face that effortlessly radiated innocent charm. You weren’t sure why, but you were drawn to her slightly nerdy demeanor. (it’s called being gay)

“Hey, guys. Come on in,” PJ rasped. “Uh… we’re just getting started here.”

You walked to Hazel and stood beside her. “Sorry we’re late,” you apologized.

The three girls shook their heads. “Don’t worry about it—”

“-Uhm, the rules were for next week, but this week is good–”

“-Yeah, no worries, take it easy.”

Annie seemed confused. “Okay, I just want to make sure– This is a self-defense class, right? Where we can learn to protect ourselves against football players.”

“And the criminals that Spider-Woman has been fighting? Cause, uhm, crime rate has been going up so criminals are gonna pork us. They’re gonna pork us.”

“I thought we were fighting each other for money. There’s a cash prize, right?”

“I thought this was to be a part of like a local, underprivileged female community.”

“My identity is completely attached to hers so I just go wherever she goes.”

“I thought I could learn how to protect myself. Cause I’m pretty sure someone’s trying to kill me,” You added.

“What?” Hazel turned, her eyes filled with worry.

“Everyone’s here for a good reason!” Josie laughed. “So, you know, why are we nitpicking reasons?”

“Yeah! So, let’s jump in. Hazel, why don’t you take it away?”

“Uh.”

PJ and Josie stepped back and began clapping. Everyone else followed along into a scattered and confused applause. Hazel walked to the front, opening up her notebook to the page reading ‘Self-Defense Club.’

“Okay. Hi. I’m Hazel. And I’m going to teach you guys how to fight. Maybe throw some punches. Some kicks.”

There was a bit of silence, maybe a single cough. PJ spoke up.

“(Y/N), since you’re closest to Hazel, why don’t you volunteer and step up?”

You shrugged. “Sure.”

You weren’t completely sure what was going on or how exactly Hazel was going to teach self-defense, but you dropped your backpack to the floor and walked towards Hazel, who looked incredibly afraid of what was going to happen next. She looked over your shoulders to PJ and Josie.

PJ mouthed the words, ‘Punch her. She’s the tree. Punch her.’

Hazel sent signals through her eyes meaning, ‘I can’t– I’m not gonna punch her.’

PJ continued to mouth the words, ‘Punch her. Hulk shrine. Imagine her wearing a bikini.’

Hazel’s face contorted with disbelief, her eyebrows raised in surprise, and her mouth slightly agape. Was she actually going to punch the girl that she’d been crushing on for years? Was this really the way to do it? She tried to ignore PJ who was now mouthing ‘punch your virginity away’ and instead curled her hands into fists, imagining the tree, the print-out of your face saying ‘punch me!’, you wearing a bikini, your smile, your wave, your eyes, your body—

-While you stood beside her, wondering why Hazel looked like she was about to shit herself. You began to open your mouth to ask if she was okay.

“Hazel—”

—And she flung her fist to your face.

You didn’t even register what had happened until a sharp burst of pain radiated from your nose, and you found yourself laying on the floor of the gym. You heard gasps and shouts and something about Mr. G trying to shut the club down (“Hey hey hey hey hey– I don’t know about this shit-”) as you slowly sat up, tasting liquid metal. The pain began to spread to the rest of your face as your eyes blurred up, leaving you momentarily stunned and struggling to regain your composure.

“Fuck, (Y/N)- I’m so sorry-” a horrified voice rang in front of you, and you felt a warm hand against your cheek. The hand seemed to be shaking, and you wiped your hazy eyes to see Hazel kneeling beside you, her expression embedded with guilt. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“You didn’t even warn her!” Annie screamed.

PJ shrugged. “Okay, we didn’t get warnings in juvie. Juvie was way crazier. One time, this girl’s punching me in the rain. Fall to my knees. It’s muddy. I get up– I’m blind. Punch her right in the middle of her face. Broke her fucking nose.”

“Pretty sure Hazel broke (Y/N)’s nose too,” Annie grumbled.

Isabel hurriedly handed you a couple of paper towels as Mr. G pushed the crowd to assess the situation.

“Let me see her,” Mr. G ordered, gasping when he saw the amount of blood coming from your nose. “Oh, shit, man, we gotta shut this down.”

“No, No—”

“-Shut this shit down. Shut it down—”

“-No, Don’t blow the whistle– Don’t blow the whistle!” Josie yelled. Everyone went silent, turning their attention from you to Josie. “I know that, you know– this is a little messy and bloody right now— Hazel, can you take (Y/N) to the nurse’s office– but like, the only way that we can learn how to defend ourselves is by teaching each other.”

Josie continued on with her little speech as Isabel and Brittany offered to take you to the nurse. But Hazel denied their help, rambling something about how this was all her fault. She picked you up fairly easily to your surprise, bridal style, and carried you out of the gym. You clutched onto her and rested your aching face into her stomach, feeling embarrassed.

When you arrived at the office, the nurse had gone home already, leaving Hazel to place you on the examination bed and find the medical kit. She seemed really anxious as you touched your face, your hand coming back dripping in red.

“God, juvie really taught you how to punch, huh,” You joked, battling your agony with humor. Hazel didn’t laugh. Instead she grabbed a cloth and ran it under the sink water, indulging the silence. You tried again. “Hazel.”

It was ignored once again as Hazel kneeled in front of you and started cleaning your face, her thumb gently holding your chin. She was very obviously avoiding your gaze with the best of her ability.

“Hazel, look at me.”

Hazel finally looked up to your eyes. She looked like a child knowing that she was about to be reprimanded or put on time out— and you almost felt sorry for Hazel, even though you were the one bleeding out. She seemed to grimace as you opened your mouth, getting ready to be shouted at. But instead, you asked;

“Why didn’t you message me?”

Hazel paused.

“I gave you my number. You didn’t message me,” You said again, completely serious. “You don’t like me?”

“No, I like you!” Hazel exclaimed. Her cheeks turned into a shade of pink as she tried to reword the sentence. “I mean, I don’t don’t like you, I… I’m really sorry. I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to come to the club, and I’m sure you don’t want to anymore-”

“-No, I want to.” You interrupted. “I mean, my face hurts like a bitch, but… it was a solid punch. And I really do need to learn how to defend myself like that. I think someone’s trying to kill me, so I want to be ready.”

Hazel cocked her head. “Is someone attacking you? Do you need help?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly, but I did see my face taped onto a tree, and someone had hit it really, really hard. Like, incredibly hard. Maybe with a rock, or something? I don’t know. I think it might be a death threat.”

Color seemed to drain out of Hazel’s face.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you–” You explained, mistaking Hazel’s pale skin as fear. “Listen, I’m not angry at you. Well, okay, I am a little, I think you could have warned me about the punch, at least, but… I know that you’re still recovering from your past and you’re probably on edge all the time.”

Hazel nodded along, as it was partially true– she was on edge, but mainly because you were staring down at her with blood on your face and you still managed to look hot as fuck. She choked on her words before saying, “Still, I shouldn't have punched you like that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m really sorry.”

You smiled. “This is the whole point of the club though, right? You punch me, I punch you… and we become stronger together– ow.”

You winced when the cloth touched a particular spot on your nose bridge, being reminded of your injury.

“Shit, sorry, here—” Hazel instantly dropped the cloth. She carefully cupped your face, examining your wound with sincere worry. She was used to seeing wounds on herself, but seeing them on a person that she liked— seeing them on you, made her particularly upset.

You were surprised to see Hazel being so serious. Every time you tried to talk to her, she was either nervous or punching you. To see her so focused on your face made you feel a bit self-conscious, leading you to comment on her skills to break the silence.

“You seem to have a lot of experiences patching someone up. Do you do this often?”

She chuckled, “You have no idea.”

You assumed she was talking about juvie, and you recalled seeing the bruises on her face the last time you talked to her. Was Hazel still having problems with crime even after prison? You stared at her, your heart throbbing with sympathy for Hazel. What struggles had she faced in her past for her to learn to punch so strongly, to patch up bruises, and to always be nervous around others?

Hazel pulled away from you, finishing up the basic patch-up. She started putting the medical kit away as you caught sight at the mirror across from you.

“Great. I look awful.” You sighed, lingering on your reflection.

“No, you don’t.”

Hazel tore her eyes away from the kit and responded, as if you had said something completely out of reality. You laughed and shook your head, looking at the floor.

“No, my face is a complete mess–”

“-You look pretty.”

You tore your eyes off from the floor to Hazel. She was staring at you with a soft look in her eyes, one that you felt yourself getting lost in. She had such… honesty within them, as if she fully believed your beauty underneath the red and blue color.

“You always do.”

And for a moment you wondered how you had never truly seen Hazel before— when the soft glow from the sun streamed through the window, casting a warm light over the two of you. Hazel’s brown hair, cascading into a messy mullet, framed her face which seemed to be burning up each second that passed.

“...you too,” You muttered, a shy smile replacing your dumbstruck expression. “I hope you know that.”

Then it was her turn to gawk, at you and your hands timidly placed on your legs which dangled from the examination bed. She was reminded of her crush that had been sitting in her heart for years. She had just spent 5 minutes in a room alone with you— and for a second, she was almost glad that she punched you.

And all of a sudden, Hazel seemed to recognize the lack of space between the two of you. Had you been this close to her this entire time? Your face was just inches apart from hers, and time seemed to stretch as you two gazed at each other, hearts thumping in unison. It was as if the wall Hazel had managed to build around her feelings towards you crumbled within this moment. Hazel’s lips parted, just a fraction, as if inviting the inevitable to say—

“-The club isn’t being shut down!”

The office door swung open with a bang.

Hazel immediately leaped back from you, as you whipped your face towards PJ and Josie who stopped in their celebratory tracks, analyzing the odd tension from the room.

“Oh, sorry, we thought–” Josie gaped, rubbing the back of her head in awkwardness. “How are you doing, (Y/N)?”

“I’m doing okay, actually. I should go. But I’ll see you later, bye.” You hopped down from the bed and started walking out of the room, talking a bit too fast for anyone’s comfort. You almost fell over while you ran down the hallway, unable to accept what had just unfolded. What was that? You almost— you almost kissed a girl. You almost kissed Hazel Callahan.

In the meantime, Hazel was also mortified at the fact PJ and Josie had interfered right then and there. She hid her face with her hands which her friends mistook for anger.

Josie tried to calm her down, “Okay, I know that today was kind of a disaster and you made (Y/N) bleed, but after you left we managed to grow the spirit. Everyone’s into beating each other up now. It’s kind of working.”

“And, I honestly don’t know what just went on right now but… (Y/N) just said she’ll ‘see you later’. Which means it kind of worked for you too,” PJ added. “And it doesn’t seem like you broke her nose, which meant that you can actually control your power!”

“Are you still up for this, Hazel?”

Hazel peeked out from hands, her face still red, her heart still sprinting, her mind still thinking about your lips— and how you said you would see her later. A smile tugged at her lips as she nodded and said,

“Let’s fucking do this.”

Previous Chapter: The Origin

Next Chapter: The Set-Up for Chapter 4

#bottoms movie #hazel callahan #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan x reader #josie bottoms #pj bottoms #hazel callahan spiderwoman #hazel callahan x you #bottoms (2023)

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cryinginmyroomsposts · 9 months

Text

Mr Gorgeous

pairing: Lee Minho x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst, crack, tutor Lee know, non-idol!au, college au, best friend Hyunjin, computer nerd Lee know

summary: As a chemical engineer with the biggest aversion to computer science it was nothing short of hell to try and pass the one elective you were forced to take. Things do change for the better when your friend suggests you get tutored by smart and hot Lee Minho. Maybe you'd do a lot more than just pass the subject...

wordcount: 6.3k

a/n: This one is based on the unhinged but cute ideas my friend gives, hopefully, I did justice to that, and to Minho.

masterlist

I have extended this universe (but can be read as oneshot ) with the Hyunjin fic Dancing with our Hands Tied

Regret.

That’s the primary emotion you feel right now. Sitting with your hands tugging at your hair in the corner of the computer science lab as you stare at the big blank screen… yet again.

Another ping and you look up to see yet another failure message popping on the screen of your laptop. It wasn’t brand new, or of high value, but this laptop was your lifeline. Not only did it hold all three years' worth of your undergrad life but it also holds the precious drafts of your latest hyper fixation- fanfics based on the forced marriage trope.

The downfall of the laptop itself wasn’t your primary concern now, it was the choices you made that led here. Well, it wasn’t exactly a choice. The course selection system of your uni might say “flexible” but it was anything but. Your mind replays a flashback from two months ago when you were seated in your dorm bed, hands tugging your hair like now, as you stare at the monstrosity that was the computer science elective you were forced to choose for the sake of credits.

Leading you right back to regret.

Just as you're about to break your laptop in a fit of pure frustration you feel a hand on your shoulder. Whipping your head back, with five retorts at the tip of your tongue (but ones that’ll never be said), you find yourself facing one of your closest friends. His feline eyes shone with kindness and his long blonde hair with fringes framing his spectacular face and the crisp white shirt that looks very out of place amongst his rarely-showered peers.

Hyunjin. The infamous dance team captain and the most wanted dude on campus, who somehow ended up as your roommate's dance partner back in freshman year and is now a big part of your gang. He was the reason for whatever little popularity you had on campus.

“Are you alright?”

“Hi yeah, I-I’m fine… I guess…” you sigh, giving up on your hair and point to the screen. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and my laptop just gave up on me.”

He gives you a sad smile, not one of pity and you’re grateful for it. “Ahh, the computers have defeated our great y/n I see...” His tone is slightly lighter this time when he speaks. You nod furiously as he settles down on an empty chair next to you. His hand has moved from your shoulder to fidgeting with the armrests.

“Yeah I absolutely hate- no loathe computers. I mean, I fought with my parents to do a chemical engineering degree just because I hate computers for god's sake. All that only to end up here in this damn course and I’ve managed to kill my laptop in the process of installing virtual machines. Actually why the hell do we even need those virtual machines? Isn’t everything that these machines produce essentially virtual… if you do need another device, just get one. Why do you computer science idiots go through all this hassle? I don’t-“, you pause mid-rant to see that he’s got an amused expression and the corners of his lips are lifted up.

“Ugh, please. Don’t laugh at my distress, you cruel man.” You whine and dramatically put your head on the desk in defeat.

"Aye y/n it's okay... I mean it will be..." Hyunjin tries to comfort but you just grunt in response and dig your head deeper into your arms on the desk.

You hear him sigh and shift closer to you.

"Alright, I'll tell you what... class is over now so we will give up for now and go have something to eat and replenish your brain. Then maybe I can tutor you, I am also in the class and I do understand this. Is that ok?"

You look up to see Hyunjin sitting beside you, lips pressed into a thin smile, eyes kind and empathetic. This version of him rarely comes out except with his few friends and you were usually grateful for that. But today you had no brain cells left to feel grateful.

"Yeah, sure! Do you plan on doing that before or during your morning dance practices or evening practice?" Your tone comes out sharp and sarcastic, which catches Hyunjin off guard.

You were almost always sarcastic but it was never more than a harmful joke and you never really lost your temple. In fact, you were very particular about staying silent unless you have something positive or funny to contribute to the conversation.

Hyunjin recovers fast from the shock, "Hey I was just offering... I was being nice. Don't bite my head off!"

You feel apologetic immediately and sigh. "Yeah sorry dude, I guess I need to eat. Are you still up to get lunch together?" You ask with a small smile.

"Yup!" He immediately agrees with a big grin and you begin packing your things.

"Hey, you sure one of your little fangirls and fanboys won't die of jealousy if they see just the two of us having lunch together?" You joke as you both head to the cafeteria.

He just rolls his eyes and both of you laugh it off.

Even though you knew about Hyunjin's popularity, it still feels weird for you to sit and watch almost the entire cafeteria stare in your direction. Rather in his direction. Trying your best to ignore it you continue eating your sales as Hyunjin talks about the latest gossip from the dance team.

Just as he was about to reach the juicy part, Hyunjin sees someone on the other end of the cafe and asks them to join. You whip your head around to see the source of your latest annoyance, ready to hate them in your head, only to find the most gorgeous man you had ever seen walk towards your table.

You've had one too many celebrity crushes in your day but you weren't usually the type to simp for a dude in real life- especially one from your university. Yet you find yourself unable to take your eyes off this guy. He's wearing a simple black T-shirt and a pair of joggers. His headphones are around his neck, and a black backpack hanging on his left shoulder. You watch his shirt cling to his shoulders and the way he keeps his eyes down as he walks. You keep watching as he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up just enough for it to look fluffy and good.

Taylor Swift definitely wrote Gorgeous for this man.

As he nears the table you finally gather all your self-control and turn back to your lunch. You chew on the food slowly and keep playing with the contents in your bowl, painfully aware of every step he takes toward the table.

"Hey Lino!" You hear Hyunjin exclaim as he gets up to hug the other guy.

"Hi Hyunjin." says the other guy- who apparently has a deep, yet soft voice that reminds you of honey melting.

You internally cringe at the weird tingly feeling this guy is making you feel.

You try to block out the conversation the two guys make, desperately hoping you wouldn't have to interact with Mr Gorgeous.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce you both. This is my friend y/n."

You look up at the mention of your name to find Hyunjin and him looking right at you. You smile, hoping the weird thoughts don't translate on your face.

"And y/n, this is Lee Minho. My classmate and dance teammate." Hyunjin says with a fond smile.

"Hey, y/n. Nice to finally meet you," says Mr Gorgeous in his honey-dripping voice as he reaches his hand out to you. You are frozen for a second but recover quickly to take his hands and shake them as you nod. You watch as he immediately takes his hand after a second of contact and clears his throat.

"Nice to meet you too Minho." you finally manage after the handshake that only made the butterflies worse. You pray silently that you don't ever have to speak to Minho again, a crush was not good for your health. Especially not a crush on your friend's very hot dance teammate.

Thankfully Minho almost immediately leaves, stating he has a class to attend and Hyunjin and you bid your byes and return to your lunches.

After a moment's silence, Hyunjin speaks again, "So what do you think about Minho?"

You cough as a lettuce piece gets stuck in your throat at his question and chug half a glass of water.

"Wha- what about him?" You ask in your most normal voice possible.

"I don't know... you tell me." Hyunjin says eyeing you cautiously.

"He's fine I guess." He scoffs. "He's way more than fine and we both know it." He says with a smirk.

"You're just a simp for the mysterious hot dudes who will never go for you."

"Ouch. But yeah. Plus all I can do is simp... he's not really into guys." Hyunjin says with a dramatic frown making you shake your head at his antics.

You were almost relieved when Hyunjin admitted to simping for Minho because then you would shut down the crush because you are a good friend. Every plan to squish this growing crush is backfiring on you now.

As you both finish your lunch and decide to go separate ways, Hyunjin stops in his tracks outside the cafeteria with a bright smile on his face. The face that usually means trouble for anyone involved- which is you currently.

"Oh my god! Y/n I just had the best idea." He practically squeals and you roll your eyes at him.

"I don't believe it will be good but you're gonna say it anyway so spill."

"Well you need a tutor to pass the computer course... and Minho is a top-of-the-class student who passed that subject a semester ago. What if he tutored you?"

Hyunjin looks like he hit the jackpot and your jaw hangs on the floor. Gulping you begin to explain why his idea won't work just as the door opens and out comes the man of the hour himself- Minho.

Hyunjin looks at Minho and his smile grows even wider.

"Lino I was just going to call you. I need a small favour from you."

Minho looks suspiciously between an excited Hyunjin and a horrified you. "Yeah, tell me..."

Hyunjin proceeds to explain the ordeal in great painful detail. He paints a sad picture of you from fighting with your parents about your major to your whining in the lab earlier. All while you plan the detailed and gruesome murder of Hwang Hyunjin in your head.

Even though you are too embarrassed to see Minho's face, curiosity gets the better of you. He seems to be trying his best to follow Hyunjin's rant. His eyebrows perked up and eyes shifted between the two of you. His nose scrunched as he nods continuously.

"So what do you think of my genius idea huh?" Hyunjin asks Minho as he smiles widely at you both.

"Ermm... ", Minho looks between you and Hyunjin looking positively confused. "I think I can do it yeah." He says in his honey-melting crush-heightening voice and nods at you.

All you can do is force a hopefully normal smile on your face as Hyunjin celebrates his 'victory'. You shoot Minho an apologetic look as Hyunjin forces you both to exchange numbers and discuss the tutoring schedule- every Monday evening at the library.

"See you on Monday y/n." He says with a soft smile as he hoists his bag up higher on his shoulder and walks away after saying his byes to Hyunjin.

There is no death for the crush now.

————————————

The Monday could not have come slower. Although it was only three days from meeting Minho it felt like the longest days of your life. To make matters worst, Hyunjin and Yeji, your roommate, could not stop talking about Minho.

Turns out he didn’t spurt out of nowhere since Thursday, he was fondly called Lino by the dance team. You’d previously heard Hyunjin and Yeji talk for hours together about the “brilliant” dancer that “Lino” was. But you’d also heard Yeji mock Hyunjin for constantly getting bullied by him. The stories that you had always laughed your heart out to because mostly Hyunjin did deserve it. But now those stories do nothing but increase your anxiety as you walk slowly towards the campus library to meet your gorgeous dancer-nerd tutor.

What if he bullies you too? Or worse what if you embarrass yourself in front of Mr Gorgeous!

You groan as you step into the library, searching along rows of students absorbed in their own world before spotting him. He was wearing another plain black shirt, hair messed up in sweeps framing the side of his face, and a thin framed glass perched on his face. His little nose scrunched up as he was concentrating on his laptop, the headphones on his head.

Why does this man make you weak over the bare minimum!

“Hey Minho”, you greet as you reach the table he’s sat at, settling down across the table from him.

He looks up removing his headphones and smiles at you, nodding in acknowledgment.

Both of you walk around on eggshells for the first few minutes, him understanding how much knowledge you have in the subject- he almost looks disappointed on hearing the answer be ‘nothing’. Eventually, you both developed a plan and he began explaining from the basics. Although you had a very hard time concentrating initially, especially when his eyes got all dark and focused, as he bit his lip whenever you messed up and explained in that calm soothing voice of his. But eventually, you started finding it easier to learn when he taught you in parts, giving examples and helping you take notes.

The hour passed by much too quickly for your liking but a part of you was relieved to be out of his strong gaze. He had given you some pointers and tasks to do over the week to help speed the process to pass the finals approaching in two months.

The following weeks go smoothly, Mondays becoming your favourite and most exciting day of the week- adulting really was sad. You saw Minho relaxing with every session, the third session he even started teasing you about your mistakes. He would let out a little “hehe”, smile brightly as his eyes lit up and shake his head as he says, “No that’s not how you run this. It’s a different coding language so the rules change.”

He never raised his voice or lost his cool. While you were constantly groaning or huffing in irritation at the irrational rules of computer science. You constantly explained to him that you weren’t an entire novice to coding but the concepts of operating systems and databases simply did not make sense. He would constantly assure you that this was hard for computer science majors and that you had not much to worry about. Eventually, the one-hour sessions became longer as you both sit back and talk about random topics during "breaks". He even suggested an additional session to "help speed the process", which made your stomach drop in an odd way (not because your crush kept exponentially growing in the last six weeks).

That’s how you find yourself in the library on a Thursday afternoon, coming to the library hours prior to your session with Minho. Trying your best to understand the concept you both were supposed to go over so that you didn’t look too dumb and also because your finals is approaching in two weeks. You used to be the topper in school, and you even managed to stay in the top 10 in your department but none of that worked here. It definitely didn’t help to learn that Minho was an extremely talented all-rounder.

In the last six weeks, you might’ve slipped into a couple or almost all of the dance team’s practice sessions pretending to care about Hyunjin and Yeji (both of whom were surprised to find you there for the first time in three years).

Minho danced as gracefully as a swan while emitting the most powerful aura on stage. You had seen the dance team’s performances before to support your friends but you hadn’t really noticed anyone except those two till now. But now you could not take your eyes off Minho even when you heard the team and other audiences praise how amazing Hyunjin and Yeji were.

You shake your head to prevent yourself from getting distracted by Minho’s tantalising steps from the previous day’s rehearsal. All of this did nothing but feed the monster of a crush you were fostering inside. She was so strong now that calling it a crush felt wrong. You were down bad. But that is a problem for another time, you needed to learn this concept before Minho gets there in half an hour.

You’re not sure how long it has been since you started hyper focusing on the topic but you are brought out of your reverie by Minho’s rich voice.

“Hey y/n.” He sounds cheerful and there’s a cute smile on his face which makes the monster butterflies immediately rise up in your stomach.

“Hello.” You smile back as he settles in the seat next to you. This was another suggestion from Minho since the third week to "help correct your mistakes better", little did he know it only made you more prone to mistakes with him so close to you. You noticed that he was wearing his white hoodie and grey joggers- which you know now is his dance practice attire, and his hair is all tousled and messy. His cheeks are flushed from the practice and he is slightly out of breath as he takes his laptop out and settles down.

“You’ve already started this topic huh. Good to see you working so hard. ” He says with a genuine smile nodding towards your laptop. You smile coyly, stomach doing a little flip at the compliment (it never gets old).

“Ah, nothing like that. Just had time to kill. Thought I’d try to catch up so that I’m not entirely clueless for today.” He nods and looks at you for a second longer than usual. Just as you think he’s going to turn to his laptop and start the session he leans towards you and brushes a strand of your hair behind your ears. Time comes to a standstill as you process what just happened. When you recover from the tingle his touch had left on your cheek and behind your ear, you realise that he has gone to his work.

“Let’s start?” He enquired looking innocent and all you can do is nod. Your heart is still beating fast as you try your best to follow everything Minho is saying. Every time you got your heart to calm down he would turn to look at you from behind his glasses, a serious expression on his face which was way too close to yours for your brain to work.

When you start working on the code he leans between you and your laptop to point at the code on the farthest end of the screen from him. His face is extremely close to yours as you do everything to remain normal- on the outside.

Eventually, the session comes to an end and you slump back in your chair sighing as you catch your breath and look at Minho. He is on his phone smiling every now and then and your hearts drops as anxiety clouds your head. Not that you had any intentions of taking any action about your crush… but still the heart wants what it wants. He turns to you as he puts his phone down and removes his glasses.

“How come you had free time today, before our session? I thought you had a full schedule on Thursdays?” He enquires and pushes his smooth fluffy hair out of his face.

You have two thoughts in your brain at this point- a) why did he have to be that gorgeous, and b) did he remember when you told him about your schedule the first time you both met.

You straighten up as you answer. “Erm… yeah no my lab got cancelled. Prof has been sick for a week now so I was free.”

“Is that why you seem to be having a lot of free time lately?” His question comes out more as a comment as he gives you a smirk.

“Uh what do you mean?”

He runs his hand through his hair again.

“Nothing just been seeing you around during practice a lot recently… that’s why.” He almost looks shy as he says it, but the smirk stays put on his face.

You feels your cheeks and neck heat up and do your best to not look like a deer caught in headlights.

You let out a small fake laugh. “Ah, that… I was just supporting Hyunjin. And Yeji too, she’s my roommate you know?” You ask hoping he’d shift the topic to them instead.

He leans back on the side of his chair eyeing you with the smirk still in its place. “Yeah I know. I’ve known for three years.” Your eyes widen naturally at this new information. “Which is why I was surprised to see you there now after all these years. You don’t usually come to practice sessions.” He says calmly.

There are too many questions in your head but you choose to ignore anything that gives you even a sliver of hope. You straighten more hoping the stature makes you look at least slightly intimidating. Which, judging by the even bigger smirk on Minho’s face didn’t work.

“I- I came because Yeji and Hyunjin were nervous about their solos.”

His expression is straight-up cocky. “Oh is that why you were staring at me the whole time?”

His words might’ve affected you so much that you were embarrassed but you weren’t going to feed into his ego.

“Seems like you need a new prescription for your eyes.” You pick up your things, start to walk away from the table and pause to give him a sarcastic smile.

"Also seems like you were the one who was seeing me instead of focusing on your practice."

You walk away hoping to save some face before you feel his hold on your wrist. His hands are rough and he holds you just tight enough to stop you but not hurt you.

“Y/n I was just teasing… sorry if I crossed a line.” He sounds so soft and timid that you whip your head around to see him standing behind you with big eyes and a small pout. You sigh and smile at him.

“I know… I was too. Don’t worry abt it, Mr Tutor.” You try to lighten the mood by lightly tapping his shoulder and see him shudder slightly.

“I do like seeing you in practices.” He admits in a low voice, a shy smile on his face.

You are just a melted goo of a human on the inside. The smile on your face comes naturally but for once, you don’t feel the need to hide it. Minho made you lose your guard way too much but even then today was way out of either of your usual zones. For the rest of the night, you are a mess of nerves and excitement. Yeji doesn’t question it anymore.

Two days later, you arrive at the auditorium of your uni with the two other friends of your gang- Jeongin and Yuna. As you three settle down in one of the middle rows, for which you almost fought off a junior, you are giddy with excitement to see Minho perform. And Hyunjin and Yeji of course.

You had tried to go to the dress rehearsal the previous day, catching the last few minutes of the performance and it was safe to say that the performance was going to be a hit. This time you didn’t try to sneak around, instead you waited after rehearsal and walked back with Minho, Hyunjin and Yeji. The vibe between Minho and you had shifted since that evening, he had texted you memes twice the next day and the previous evening, you both had walked close enough for your shoulders to brush while laughing about baseless things. If Hyunjin and Yeji noticed, they didn’t say anything and even gave the two of you some space by racing each other. For all the grace they both had on stage, they were complete idiots.

Your heart starts beating faster as the performance begins and you watch in a daze the whole time. All of them killed it from start to end. You were almost emotional watching Yeji and Hyunjin shine bright during their solos. Minho was on fire throughout the whole performance and you thought you dreamt of him looking at you during his solo- which was practically too hot for you to physically handle.

Once the performance is over, Jeongin, Yuna and you walk over to the green room to meet your amazing friends. You run over to congratulate your friends and even manage a small "nice performance" for the other members. The entire green room is filled with members of the dance team and their friends, all shouting and laughing. Amongst the chaos and happiness in your friend group, you can't help but look around for Minho. Catching your eye Hyunjin tugs at your shoulder signalling you to lean in as he says, "Go to the backside of the auditorium."

You look at him confused for a second before he gives a pointed side-eye that says "Don't act like you don't understand". You give a shy smile thanking him and inform Yeji that you'll be back and quietly slip out through the back door of the auditorium as Hyunjin told you to. Once you close the door behind you, a cool gush of wind makes you rub your shoulders for warmth as the green room's ruckus dies into the evening's silence. You look around for him and see a silhouette standing at the right edge leaning on the railing and looking out at the campus gardens.

Taking a deep breath you slowly approach him. As if sensing your presence, he whips his head around.

"Y/N." He says softly and you walk closer to see his left hand stretched out. You freeze in your spot, five steps away from him, gaping at the hand. He sees your confusion, smiles, walks toward you, and grabs your right hand. You stand there watching him and feel your feet move on their own as he helps you stand beside him facing the gardens, hands still interlaced. Your brain seems to short-circuit as you just stand there, still as a statue, hyperaware of his touch and the tingles it left in your body.

After what feels like a minute or an eternity, you are no longer aware of worldly concepts like time, he clears his throat and you see him angle his body toward you from the corner of your eyes. This brings you back to reality and you turn your face toward him and see how gorgeous he looks under the moonlight, hair all messed up, his shirt still clinging from the sweat due to the performance and lips spread into a soft smile.

"Hi." He says with an expectant smile on his face.

"Hey," you hear your own voice sound distant and breathless. It would be embarrassing how weak you were from this boy if you didn't know that he deserved all the love and attention in the world.

"So... you really didn't want to see me perform I guess." His tone is playful and there's a smirk on his face.

"Wha- What no... I did want to see you perform."

"Then you just didn't like it I guess. Tsk tsk." He mockingly shakes his side to side as the girn grows wider on his face. Your face heats up in embarrassment and you thank god that the only light around the place is hitting on his face and not yours.

"I never said that." You say in a low shy voice (again, borderline embarrassing).

"You didn't say anything good about the performance either. At least to me." He pauses and looks at you before turning to the garden again, "I heard you throwing compliments around like confetti inside,, to your friends."

You immediately feel your stomach drop in guilt and very little excitement (The Minho wanted your validation!!).

"Oh. Oh no, I- I didn't mean to... It's just," you take a small breath as he turns to face you again with an eager expression, "I can't really think right now with you holding my hand and looking all gorgeous and hot, and I keep thinking back to your moves on stage which were straight up sinful Minho." The words come out before you can process it and your eyes widen as you realise what you said and see that Minho's smirk has grown exponentially smug before he breaks into soft laughter.

You silently groan putting your head down on the railing. Minho stops laughing and tugs at your hand which makes you slightly face him. "Hey, don't be embarrassed." He says with that soft, kind voice of his.

"Easy for you to say." You mumble as you look at your hands, one still intertwined in his. He uses his other hand to lift your chin up to face him, you swear you can hear your heartbeat as loudly as a gunshot fired into the dead of the night. His eyes are soft, a twinkle in them, and he has the prettiest smile on his face as he takes in your face.

"I still want a proper compliment Gorgeous." He says and you choke on empty air at the term of endearment (the irony rather). He lets out a chuckle at that and raises his eyebrows for you to go on as he holds your other hand in his. "Can you even breathe right now?" He jokes and you snap out of the daze.

"Jerk," you say pulling your hands from his, turning away with a huff.

"Y/N... come oonnn..." He whines and you involuntarily laugh and turn to see him pouting (lost track of all the embarrassing things you do for him at this point). "Pleaasseeeee", he says with the cutest pout and puppy-dog eyes.

You sigh. "Well, you did amazing." The pout is intact on his face, indicating he wants to hear more. "I- I couldn't take my eyes off you the whole time. I saw Hyunjin and Yeji only during their solos." You admit sheepishly. You are still not sure where all this sudden courage is coming from. You are not the most vulnerable or soft person, in fact, your friends constantly teased you for being nonchalant and tactful during most situations. Lee Minho was going to be the death of you.

He straightens at the admission from you, eyes widening and jaw opening in surprise. A smirk plays up on your face at the opportunity to see him lose his cool.

"Have you forgotten your manners or are you too flustered to say thanks?" You tease not letting the opportunity go to waste. His demeanour changes and the shyness on his face is replaced by something darker, like trouble. He slowly walks towards you, like a cat prancing towards its meal, and you take a step back till you are flush against the railing as he keeps walking closer. You think your heart will fail if he keeps doing it. He stops an inch from your face, placing both his palms on either side of you on the railing.

"Let's see who is too flustered now..." His voice is deep and gravelly. You gulp and stare at his face, not having the courage to do anything else. He starts leaning towards your face, his eyes momentarily drift to your lips and god help your poor soul.

"Min-Minho.. wha-what are y-you doing?"

Your voice breaks and his lip tilts slightly before he speaks, "Can I kiss you?" His voice has gone an octave deeper and your heart skips several beats. All you can manage is a small nod in approval and he shakes his head. "Say it, Gorgeous."

Jesus this man is out to kill you.

"Ye-yes." The word leaves your mouth more like a question but the smirk on his face tells you he is satisfied. He leans in more, your lips almost connecting and you close your eyes waiting for his lips to touch yours. One beat, two beats, three beats and the effect never comes. You open your eyes in confusion to see Minho has moved a little back, with the proudest smile on his face.

Before you can begin to voice out your confusion he speaks. "I will kiss you...", you're still confused, "Only if you pass your finals."

"Huh?" That's all you can think and say.

"I said what I said."

"What does that even mean? Why did you ask to kiss me and then not do it... are you crazy! I swear to god if this is some sick joke to you, I will murder you Lee Minho." You are fuming, your face is burning up and you're embarrassed.

"I- no no you've got it wrong. I'm sorry I didn't mean to... I was teasing. Its... I have wanted to do this for a while now... but I thought maybe you don't really like me or... God!" He groans and runs a hand through his hair.

"What do you mean?"

He turns around to look at you, eyes wide and his hand fidgets in nervousness.

"Y/n I- I like you... I have for a while. I saw you during a freshman-year party as you came to help a very drunk Hyunjin. I thought you were his girlfriend for an entire year because you both were very close so I kept my distance. Last year I got to know that you both were just friends and really wanted to get to know you."

He stops and sighs, he positively looks scared and tired. You feel bad but your own confusion and insecurity clouds your mind.

"Then why didn't you?"

He looks straight into your eye and lets out a scoff.

"Did you even know me until two months back?"

All you can do is stare back because you are guilty. Even you had been asking yourself how you had never noticed Minho in all the times you've hung out with the dance team after performances. You had even known Chan, the team leader back when you were freshmen. But somehow missed the one person you seem to care about right now.

"That's what I thought." He looks dejected. You really want to hug him, which is surprising considering you don't even like hugs usually.

So you walk up to him, closing the gap between the two of you in three steps and wrap your arms around his waist and feel him freeze. Your head reaches near his shoulder, and you lean into it because there is some unbridled courage in you that you are not about to waste. After a beat or two you feel his arms wrap around your waist and you wait for the butterflies and nerves but instead, you feel your heartbeat slow down. It feels... comfortable.

"I'm sorry. I am not exactly the most observant person. Especially around the dance team because I am way too in awe and kinda scared. I don't think I would've been friends with Yeji and Hyunjin if I had not met them outside of the team. But after the last two months, I don't even understand how I missed you. Especially with how you dance and not to forget that smart brain of yours. But yeah... I'm sorry" The words fall out of your mouth on their own but it feels right.

"Not your fault. I did keep myself very much out of the limelight because I was... I don't know, maybe scared of rejection. But yeah, wish I'd spoken to you earlier." You can feel his words. You also feel his heartbeat slow down.

"I don't regret anything that happened though." His voice sounds a lot lighter this time.

"Neither do I."

You slightly pull back to see his face and try to get out of the embrace but he holds onto you tight. An involuntary smile creeps up your face.

"So... what happens now?"

He thinks for a second and a glint forms in his eyes.

"What do you want to happen?"

You like this.

"Three things. I want you to continue tutoring me. I also want to be your girlfriend and... I need you to kiss me now." You see him start to speak and continue before he can. "If you say you won't do that until I pass, I swear to god Lee Minho, I will never let you talk to me or touch me ever again." His whole face goes into a pout and it makes you regret your own condition because it seems impossible to stay away from this guy- in any capacity.

"Then I guess I'll just have to kiss you until you pass and then reward you with more kisses after that."

He is grinning ear to ear, looking all cute and radiant. You're sure your also grinning equally widely. You nod your head fiercly and he chuckles with his head thrown back (Gorgeous, as always). He slowly leans in and your eyes close shut.

This time you feel his lips on you, soft and firm. You had thought about this moment far too much but nothing came close to the real thing. The kiss felt perfect, delicate but assured and blissful. It felt like all of the universe had frozen in place and only the two of you existed in this endless bliss.

That is until you heard hoots from somewhere and reluctantly break the kiss to see all of the dance team and your friends cheering on for both of you.

"Neither of us was subtle huh?" You joke.

"Oh please, I was so subtle I practically melted into the background for a year." You playfully hit his chest as he laughs and waves off the hooligans cheering on.

"Ugh, it's gonna be so much harder to keep my hands off you during tutoring sessions now." He groans and you can't help but blush and let out a content laugh.

Maybe the computer science elective was a good decision after all.

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aerahyasashi · 4 months

Text

IDIOSYNCRASIES CHAPTER TWO

Yandere! Suguru Geto x Fem! Gojo's Sister! Reader

Sypnosis: Where suguru geto founds himself deeply enamored with satoru's non-sorcerer sister to the point of obsession.

Warnings: Yandere stuff, Gore, Violence, Foul language, Abuse.

Note: this isn't a oneshot, I'm gonna post every part of this soon, this is a fanfic and i originally posted this on quotev. I'm still learning on how to use tumblr so the aesthetic might be a lil shitty😭😭 also, feel free to make a request! May it be an hc or a oneshot! Just no incest please.

Chapter One

Chapter Three

Chapter four and five

Chapter six and seven

•───癖好───•

EYES TINTED IN A shade of black, akin to the color of an obsidian, grew wide if ever so slightly upon hearing those words come out from the lips of the [H/c] haired girl that was perched beside him.

Suguru found himself in a state of uncertainty, unsure of how to react to the situation unfolding before him.

Naturally, he knew that she, being a member of the gojo clan, would have knowledge about curses. However, what truly astonished him was not her awareness of curses, but rather her ability to actually see them.

Ordinary individuals like her lacked the cursed energy necessary to perceive or interact with curses. This meant that they were incapable of seeing them altogether. While it was true that some non-sorcerers could see curses with the aid of cursed tools, this girl appeared to possess no such tools.

But what fascinated Suguru even more was her nonchalance about it.

“Mmm, so you can see curses as well, then..” Suguru murmured, his brows furrowing slightly as he pondered how she was able to see curses and why she appeared so nonchalant about it.

It was almost as if she had grown accustomed to the sight of curses, as though it were an everyday occurrence.

“Yeah, I can,” she nodded, confirming Suguru's suspicion.

With a light laugh escaping her lips, she continued to gaze at the curse enveloping the tree, never once diverting her attention away from it. The curse itself was an abhorrent sight, ugly and grotesque and bloated, akin to a misshapen ball of red orange-colored flesh. It bore numerous eyes and extended multiple limb-like appendages in front of it, resembling a fusion of a sea urchin with having the human arms as its spike.

The fact that she remained nonchalant whilst perceiving this abomination was both astonishing and captivating to Suguru. Her ability to remain unfazed in the face of such abnormalities was truly unique, showcasing her idiosyncratic nature.

Suguru hummed quietly to himself, finding the situation rather peculiar.

“Sort of weird if you ask me.”

“Strange isn't it?” she arched an eyebrow with a smile as she posed that question to the black haired man.

“Yeah, strange,”

She smirked at him.

“I bet you thought that i can't see curses.”

she responded by giving him an almost cocky smirk, to which he simply chuckled softly. In a low tone, he murmured.

“You won the bet then”

Suguru chuckled as the banter between them subsided for a moment. He then placed his palms in front of her eyes, effectively obstructing her view of the curse that was on the tree. He observed the curse intently as he raised his other hand and pointed it on the direction of the curse.

“Geto-san?” she muttered under her breath, perplexed as her brows drew together slightly.

“What are you doing?”

From the corner of her eye, a faint bluish light sparked, causing her to flinch uneasily.

“Just don't want you to see the curse getting... distorted.” he explained as the curse became distorted and slowly formed into a ball. The small black sphere that had peculiar orange smudges was now on his hand, signifying his successful capture of the curse.

“Wouldn't be fair of me to subject you to such a sight,” he added, finally removing his hand from in front of her eyes. As she blinked and inclined her head, her gaze fell upon the tree, and the curse had mysteriously vanished.

Puzzled, she turned to him and inquired,

“Where did it go?” Searching for answers, she observed him with a look of confusion.

“It's in a place of insignificance,” suguru responded nonchalantly. Furrowing her brows in response, she muttered,

“How informative, Geto-san.” [Name] smiled, slightly amused by his vague statement. Suguru casually shrugged, dismissing the importance of the curse's whereabouts.

“It's not crucial to know where it has been relocated,” suguru asserted, causing [Name] to raise an eyebrow. He noticed a faint sparkle in her eyes, perhaps from in awe, or amusement?

[Name] on the other hand was pondering whether suguru is as strong as her brother, because she presumed that suguru had exorcised the curse or something. Realizing her curiosity, she mumbled.

“I see,” [Name] restrained herself from directly asking about the curse’s exorcism as her [E/c] eyes locked with Suguru's dark orbs.

“Why don't you want me to see the curse?” she inquired, genuinely curious about his reason.

“I have witnessed far worse than that,” [Name] added, causing him to raise an eyebrow.

“Doesn't mean that y’should be exposed to yet another disturbing sight,” he replied, flashing a warm smile that caused a faint blush to tint [Name]'s cheeks.

“I suppose you're right,” [Name] conceded with a slight laugh, shifting her position slightly due to awkwardness.

“Still, It's quite extraordinary,” Suguru remarked, a hint of amusement lacing his scoff.

“...It's the first time I've come across a non-sorcerer who can see curses.”

“That's quite... unusual.” He added.

“Do you find it uncommon?” she inquired, tilting her head slightly sideways as Suguru acknowledged by nodding and resting his head upon his hand.

“Yeah, unusual.”

“Really unusual... especially if that non-sorcerer is someone who is so nonchalant about it,” he murmured, alluding to her fearless demeanor.

“Most people would've freaked out upon seeing those” Trying to conceal the spherical ball, the young man fumbled with his uniform, trying to find where to hide it and intending to save it for later consumption.

In response, she calmly remarked,

“I'm used to it” a subtle smile gracing her lips. He emitted a soft hum in acknowledgement. Curiosity got the better of him, forcing him to breach the subject.

“It's because you're a member of the gojo clan, isn't it?” he inquired, tilting his head slightly. Suguru wasn't keen on admitting it, but engaging in conversation with this newly acquainted girl proved surprisingly pleasant. Eventually, he managed to find a suitable place on his uniform to hide the sphere, carefully concealing it there.

Her response was understated yet affirmative.

“Yes, i suppose I am,” she replied.

“You’re a jujutsu sorcerer, right, geto-san?” She inquired, and he nodded.

“I am”

“Figured it out,” she replied.

Reinvigorated, suguru rose to his feet.

“Once again, it was nice to meet you, Gojo-san,” he expressed with a smile, extending his hand for a handshake.

Despite his desire to continue their conversation, Suguru recognized the need to depart, as his mission had finally reached its conclusion. It was a shame, because he liked talking to her.

Although hesitant at first, she eventually took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his and reciprocating the gesture as she gave him a firm handshake, but [Name] was disappointed since she still wanted to talk to suguru more.

“Likewise, Geto-san,”

she warmly echoed, a smile adorning her face. Certainly, she was aware that Satoru would become angry with her for engaging in conversation with a stranger. This anger stemmed from his concern for her safety, as Satoru despised witnessing any harm come to his beloved sister.

Nevertheless, she pondered if Satoru would remain oblivious to the interaction if she simply chose not to disclose it to him, and she hoped so, cause he'd probably go ballistic upon finding out that she had not only talked to a stranger, but she even made physical contact with them.

She had lied to Satoru on numerous occasions in the past, and although it may not have been the initial instance, her intentions were always for the greater benefit.

A concrete example of this was when Satoru inquired about her black eye, to which she fabricated a response, claiming that she had merely stumbled and toppled down the stairs. However, this was merely a cover-up for the truth, for their pathetic excuse of a family had hit her.

Suguru on the other hand inclined his head slightly, observing the way their fingers were intertwined. He couldn't help but notice that [Name]'s hands were smaller and delicate, adorned with a cute [F/c] shade of nail polish.

Her soft hands were in stark contrast to his own calloused hand, which hinted at the laborious nature of his work.

As he observed her, Suguru couldn't help but feel a sense of amusement at this peculiar idiosyncrasy of hers—getting lost in her thoughts even during a simple gesture like a handshake.

Awkwardness began to creep into Suguru's demeanor as the seconds ticked by. Thirty seconds had passed, yet [Name] continued to hold onto his hand, defying the conventional brevity of a handshake. He found himself growing increasingly awkward in this unexpected situation. With a polite clearing of his throat, Suguru softly spoke,

“Gojo-san, are you alright?” Suguru inquired, his concerned eyes meeting hers. [Name], slightly taken aback, blinked and immediately released her grip on his hand.

Apologetically, she mumbled an explanation while nervously rubbing the muscles on the back of her neck.

“Sorry, I spaced out. Were you saying something?” she asked, her words punctuated by awkwardness. Suguru shook his head, responding with a gentle, closed-eye smile.

“It's fine, and no,” he reassured her.

Suguru then directed his attention towards her face, her eyes, her nose, and her lips, observing every detail. It was evident to him that she wasn't wearing any lipstick, just a simple lip balm.

However, despite the lack of any noticeable alteration, he could still discern it. In that moment, as if her actions were prompted by his gaze, she bit her lip.

This seemingly innocent gesture ended up causing the scab on the previously split lip to crack open, resulting in some blood seeping into her mouth and eventually trickling down her chin.

“Gojo-san. You're bleeding...”

A concerned expression formed on Suguru's face as he observed her touching her lips, noticing how her jaw clenched ever so slightly.

“That's..” [Name] trailed off, eyebrows knitting together.

The previous efforts by Satoru to clean up the area were now rendered useless due to the reopening of the wound and it made [Name] annoyed at herself slightly.

“May i?” Suguru asked and [Name] was confused as she continued touching the blood, she nodded nonetheless, not really knowing what suguru meant

“I suppose,” she replied.

Suguru retrieved a handkerchief out of nowhere swiftly, placing a hand on her chin to gently lift her gaze. With careful movements, he proceeded to wipe away the blood from her lip.

The once pristine white fabric of the handkerchief now bore the mark of her blood. As Suguru cleaned the area, [Name] appeared frozen, rooted in place. Her heart raced within her chest, its relentless beats quickening in response to this unexpected action .

The tenderness when Suguru removed the blood was slight more tender and gentler than satoru's.

Once Suguru had completed the task of wiping away every trace of blood, a subtle rosy hue tinged [Name]'s cheek, indicating her embarrassment.

“You shouldn't nibble on your lip, Gojo-san. It will impede the healing process.”

“Thank you...” [Name] said with a shy smile and suguru nodded as he folded the handkerchief neatly.

“You helped me too, so it's only fair for me to repay the favor,” Suguru replied appreciatively, recalling the time when she selflessly offered him some delightful candies that provided relief and served as a diversion from the repulsive flavor of the curse he had ingested.

“Oh..” [Name] mumbled as her blush finally subsided. “I see..”

“Thank you for the sweets, and it was truly pleasurable conversing with you, Gojo-san.” Hoping for another encounter in the near future, Suguru mumbled,

“I hope our paths will cross again soon.” Displaying a genuine smile, she replied.

“So do i...” Amused, he chuckled softly, accompanied by a closed-eyed smile.

“glad to hear that the sentiment is mutual then.” Suguru chuckled softly yearning to prolong their interaction. However, duty beckoned, demanding his attention.

“Take care of yourself, Gojo-san.”

•───癖好───•

When Satoru finally found [Name] after walking like 2 hours in the city, Satoru embraced [Name] so tightly that she felt as though she couldn't breathe. In a state of panic, he clung onto her even more, causing her to struggle for air and adding to her discomfort.

“Damn it, ‘toru nii-chan! ‘ts too tight!” [Name] whined at Satoru, pleading for him to loosen his grip. He immediately complied, but still held onto her, finding solace in the comfort of her embrace. Nestling his head in the crook of her neck, he exhaled warm breath against her skin.

“I thought i lost you!”

“look... ‘toru.. ‘m fine, and you're overreacting...”

Trying to reassure him, [Name] affirmed that she was alright.

“Don't care, didn't asked,”

Satoru scoffed, his worry pouring out as he uttered a grumble. Disregarding her attempt to convince him of her safety, he continued to express his concerns, pulling away from her neck and fixating his gaze on her.

“Where on earth were you?” he asked as he cradled her face in his hands.

Annoyed by his overprotective nature, [Name] muttered under her breath.

“Satoru, You left me here to get food.” The sudden realization struck Satoru, leaving him dumbfounded.

Repeating her words in disbelief, Satoru blinked in confusion. “I left you here to get food?” he exclaimed, astonished by his own forgetfulness.

“I did?”

His gaze met [Name]'s disapproving look, silently expressing her disapproval. [Name] positioned her hand on her hip, fixing her gaze upon him, tilting her head slightly and squinting her eyes as she displayed a hint of annoyance.

“Could it be possible that you actually forgot about it?” She muttered under her breath, contemplating if that could be the reason for Satoru's prolonged absence. Perhaps he simply forgot the arrangement and ended up getting lost along the way.

Huffing audibly, [Name] averted her gaze, pondering whether she should disclose the encounter she had with Suguru earlier, but ultimately opting to keep it to herself, cause honesty be damned, satoru would go bawl his eyes out and have a mental break down that teenagers mostly has at 10pm when he finds out that someone else had took care of her injuries. And he would probably be angry too. And [Name] wasn't risking it.

“You assured me it would only be a brief absence, yet you ended up being gone for a staggering two hours. It's fortunate that none of our clan members caught sight of me waiting here” She reproached him, causing him to direct a scowl towards the ground.

“Brat. why didn't you tell me earlier?” he grumbled

“That was what i am trying to tell you, brother.” she sighed, exasperated.

Satoru abruptly turned away and slumped to the ground, curling up into a ball with his knees pressed against his face and sulked like a child.

[Name] was flabbergasted because they were in public.

“Why the hell are you sulking?...” she gawked.

“Are you being for real right now...?”

[Name] was beginning to experience feelings of guilt, mixed with a sense of embarrassment, due to Satoru's actions.

“Satoru. get up.”

“Leave me alone.” Satoru grumbled pettily and [Name]'s eye twitched.

“Look satoru, I'm not mad at you for forgetting, so get up.” She sighed, feeling exasperated.

“Toru... ‘m sorry... get up f’me, would ya?”

As she approached Satoru, [Name] mumbled apologetically, urging him to get up from his sulking position.

Satoru remained silent and continued to sulk, ignoring [Name]'s pleas.

Desperate for him to snap out of his mood, [Name] whined, “Please, Satoru, get up!... nii-chan.. get up!” Unfortunately for her, he simply huffed and averted his gaze.

“I will only get up if you carry me,” he stubbornly declared.

“...” [Name] was flabbergasted. ain't no fucking way did satoru just requested her to carry him.

“What.” [Name] looked at him dumbly.

“Carry your nii-chan.” satoru replied stubbornly with a pout.

“No,” she responded firmly.

“...You don't love me anymore, do you?”

Satoru's accusation caught [Name] off guard, and her jaw tightened in frustration. Defensively, she clarified her feelings, “I do still have love you, thank you very much.” However, Satoru persisted, attempting to provoke an argument with her.

“Oh yeah? bet you wouldn't love me if i was a—”

she quickly interrupted him, refusing to engage in such discourse. With a tinge of annoyance in her voice, she spoke .

“No, i would still love you if you were a worm.” A heavy sigh escaped her lips, as she felt a wave of exasperation wash over her. she wasn't surprised by her brother's predictable response.

“Then carry me.” Satoru declared. [Name] looked at him incredulously and responded,

“Satoru, you do realize that you are taller and heavier than me, don't you?”

Satoru shrugged off her concerns and confidently stated,

“So?”

“Satoru, i can't—”

“You can, and you will.” He asserted.

[Name] was exasperated and just decided to give in.

“Fine!”

Feeling apprehensive about her ability to lift him, [Name] sighed. However, she knew she had a certain level of physical strength.

“If that's what it takes,” she reluctantly agreed, crouching down as Satoru beamed with joy. satoru then hopped onto her back enthusiastically.

“Fuck... nii-chan, you're heavy.”

[Name] grimaced under the weight, yet Satoru wrapped his arms around her neck and his legs around her waist. The sight was weird as fuck and [Name] was glad that there's no one that can see them doing weird shits, given that Satoru stood at least 6'3 tall, while [Name] was shorter and comparatively smaller.

Moreover, Satoru's weight made the situation even more challenging for her and [Name] grimaced, her legs wobbling.

“S-satoru... i think that you should get down,” she managed to state, her voice filled with strain. [Name] let out a shriek as she lost balance and fell on the ground along with satoru.

•───癖好───•

EXTRA:

—Gojo forgot to buy food too because he was too busy panicking on finding [Name].

—Geto wants more of the candy [Name] had given him but refrained from asking for more

—Geto is curious about how [Name] got her busted up lip but refrained from asking

—Gojo acts like a child when he's with [Name]

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#yandere jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x you #yandere geto #yandere gojo #yandere suguru geto #yandere satoru gojo #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen season 2

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