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#j watches shadow and bone

moss-sprouted · 9 months

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finishing the shadow and bone trilogy after just watching heartstopper s2 is like ripping my heart out then being tucked into bed gently all at once but also twice

#guess whos also watching good omens 2 with their partner lmao im gonna Die /j (itll probably be a while before we finish it)#shadow and bone #heartstopper

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keen2meecha · 1 year

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is your "new WIP idea alert" tag a catch all tag or do you have a very specific new WIP that you've been thinking about bc those posts make me go 👀

ahhh it was supposed to be a catch all, but about three posts in I was like "I've connected the dots!" and it's become a whole Thing(tm).

Catch me after camp nano going through the tag like

#keen 2 talk #i really need to just. never let myself watch things or read things or be on tumblr during nano events /j #but now i have a whole fantasy saga in mind that somehow connects the shadow and bone tv show with the resident evil remakes (especially 4)#and all i can do is desperately try not to humor myself until lits reaches 60 pages loooool #(also i did see your last ask you sent in! <3 didnt respond because i am treasuring it haha)#(but i akjdlfhjhdskfl <3)

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raynewolfegirl · 4 days

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Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist

I'm going to go ahead and apologize for how OOC Bane is in this. It originally was Joker but I couldn't see Jazz tolerating his proximity for more than a single millisecond so Bane it is.

~*~*~

The hardest thing about being a Meta in Gotham was responding appropriately during a Rouge's attack, Jazz mused to herself. Or perhaps that was just the hardest part about being a Meta intern at Arkham while studying psychology at Gotham University. Or maybe it was just her, she considered watching the guards and Dr. Rylie whom she'd been shadowing for the past 2 weeks wide eyed, pale, and shaking as theybstared at Bane behind her. It must just be her, Jazz decided, newbie guard Kyle Jennings was definitely a Meta after all. She should probably give him some tips on hiding his enhanced strength considering how often he broke mugs, door handles, and other delicate items used in daily life.

"Weapons down or I'll snap her skinny little neck." Bane growled out, shaking her slightly for emphasis. She very much doubted that. Liminials were built different than the standard Meta, stronger, faster, better endurance, and senses even if they could mostly appear to be standard humans on the outside. As such, their bones and muscles were much were much denser than regular humans or even Meta humans. Technically, she could be considered "invulnerable" much like the Kryptonians are.

"Back up! Let him through!" Dr. Rylie shouted at the guards. "She's my student! Let him through!" His voice was higher pitched than she could recall hearing it before.

Ah. That was panic.

Jazz sighed involuntarily and glanced over her shoulder at Bane. Why the man had grabbed the only person close to his own height nearby was a mystery to her - no, nevermind, he clearly meant to use her as a shield - but it made looking him in the eye more difficult than necessary.

"Mr. Bane, remove your hands from my person, please." Jazz stated calmly, channeling what Danny called her inner mom as she spoke. "I will give you to one to comply."

Bane looked stunned for a moment then laughed.

"Five."

The laughing continued. Jazz could sense a stir of uncertainty through her colleagues as they looked on.

"Four."

"Did you really think that would work?" Bane snorted out, arms tensing more around her.

"Three." She continued, indifferent to his words from her experiences raising her brother. Once the count down starts you mustn't respond to anything the kids do or say until they comply or the count is done.

"What cab you even do if I don't?" Bane asked darkly breathing directly in her ear. She kept her face expressionless despite the urge to express disgust.

"Two."

"Jasmine..." Kyle whispered halfway across the hall from her looking on with a pained and horrified expression. Gun tilting towards the floor. Sloppy.

"One." She finished and Bane gave a derisive snort.

Then she was moving. Hauling the enormous man up and over her shoulder using the arm that had been wrapped around her neck. Bane hit the cold tile hard enough that the tiles, subfloor, structural supports, and part of the concrete foundation buckled beneath him. His shoulder popped out of joint, his wrist cracked - a hairline fracture by the sound of it - and his breath was punched out of him from the force of impact. She released his arm as soon as his was embedded in the tiles and moved forward. Kneeling over him, support most of her weight on her left foot resting on the broken ground, her right knees pressed firmly across his throat without supporting any of her weight. The position put more strain on her muscles than she would've liked but at least Bane couldn't risk fighting back without crushing his own neck in the process. He could hardly throw her while flat on his back with a mangled arm.

"Now," Jazz began, looking directly into the behemoth's pained eyes. "Do you know what you've done wrong?" She asked like she would have done with Danny as a child.

"Yes, Ma'am." Bane choked out. Jazz heard movement and murmuring behind her. She didn't turn to look.

"What did you do wrong?" She asked. It was important to make sure children correctly understood why they were in trouble after all. There was a long pause as Bane appeared to cast around for the exact right answer as if he feared getting it wrong. A bad habit Danny still uses as well, Jazz thought to herself.

"I tried to hold you hostage," He choked out in a rush, words tumbling over one another as he tried to get them all out. "I scared you coworkers and it was very disrespectful."

So he'd gone for the grab-bag response. It wasn't wrong per sey but it did indicate a past history of abuse. The type of answer given by someone who expected to be harmed or ignored if they gave the "wrong" answer. Danny tended to use that method also and their parents had always been negligent at best.

"And are you going to do it again?" She asked giving him a Look as she did. Bane's eyes widened and he tried to frantically shake his head as much as possible with the pressure on his neck.

"No, Ma'am." He promised fervently.

"Alright then," Jazz said giving him a warm smile. She gestured vaguely towards the guards without turning to look at them. "Kyle here is going to take you to see the nurse and then back to your room then. I'm sure you'll behave for him?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll behave." Bane said. Jazz stood slowly asking sure not to put any additional pressure on his neck as she did. Kyle came and stood next to her as the giant of a man slowly pulled himself to his feet then led him away with 5 other guards.

Jazz heaved a sigh. Well, time to find out whether or not she could play all that off as normal, non-Meta human behavior.

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ravenna-reid · 2 months

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CRIMSON RED

Jason Todd x Pain Inflictor Reader

TW: nothing crazy, just swearing and mentions of violence

˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖

All they called you was Crimson.

Maybe because of your signature lipstick and that lace that was always in your hair.

Or maybe because of the blood you drew out of your targets without so much as raising a finger.

A telekinetic pain inflictor. The worst kind of metahuman.

But Red Hood had no reason to worry about you just yet. You tended to keep a low profile and there were bigger fish to fry. And if he was being honest, the sound of you and your abilities were kind of terrifying.

Jason's little mission all went wrong though, given his intel was missing key information. Now he was bound to a chair in a warehouse with a dripping roof. And that dripping eerily echoed as he sat and waited. Desperately keeping his fears and demons at bay.

Being tied to a chair. The looming threat of torture. It all hit a little too close to home.

Two-Face eventually sauntered into view, the rest of the warehouse behind and beside him concealed in shadows. Jason had to grimace every time he saw his face.

"You ugly bastard." Jason retorted, masking his fear with snarky insults and sarcasm. "Gotten work done recently?" He nodded towards Harvey's face with his head.

"Son of a bitch." Two-Face's face contorted with rage. "I would watch my mouth if I were you. You're finally gonna die tonight, and this time you won't be coming back."

Jason swallowed hard, pissed off that he didn't have his helmet to hide the fear-inducing anticipation on his pale face.

"But we'll let the coin decide how this is gonna play out."

So Harvey went on with his odd ritual and flipped his coin. It landed on the tarnish side, and Jason had no idea what that meant. Suddenly, Two-Face was calling out to someone behind him. Someone hidden deep within the darkness of the abandoned warehouse. Jason waited and waited, sweat dripping down the side of his face.

He expected a gruesome looking thug or some other high profile villain. Maybe Penguin, or even Harley.

The sound of heeled boots slowly echoed through out his bleak surroundings, accompanied by a laugh like velvet. You soon came into view.

Crimson mask concealing the top half of your face, the colour matching that string of lace that sat comfortably in your hair. Your usual deep red outfit hugged your body, similar to Catwoman's except for the fact that it wasn't a whole bodysuit. And of course, your stark, scarlet lips were contorted into a sinister smile.

He'd seen you around. But seeing you this close in person was a different story. Jason's breath hitched once you were right in front of him. Truthfully, he never intended to meet you. And now it was so much worse given you would be the one torturing him tonight.

Fuck this mission really went south.

"Here, the coin says you get to toy with him tonight." Two-Face said with a dismissive wave of his hand and scoff as he turned his back. "I have a deal I need to be making soon."

Jason watched as he left, muscles stiff with frustration and venom in his eyes. This was the deal Jason was supposed to be preventing.

As Jason's eyes lingered on Two-Face, your eyes were focused on him. His ivory skin and deep, jet black hair. The aggravated expression painted across his face. That muscular figure.

And that odd looking J scar on the side of his face.

"Red Hood..." Your voice lingered and shivers suddenly went down Jason's arms. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Can't say I feel the same way." He responded harshly, avoiding eye contact and instead trying to devise an escape plan. Which would, most likely, be futile and stupid.

"Mmm, mean. It's not like you're a saint Red." You calmly pointed out, voice smooth like wine.

And then he looked up at you. "Oh, really? You're one to talk? Ms snaps someones bones and crushes their lungs with a blink of an eye."

Finally making contact, you saw the confliction swirling in those eyes, and for some odd reason something tightened your throat.

Jason didn't miss the subtle furrow of your brows as you neared him. Slowly circling him like a predator.

"Deciding what bone you're going to break first?"

You scoffed, but it was more like a laugh. As you walked behind Jason he began to feel his skin crawl, his heart beat faster. He wished you were standing in front of him again. Staring down at him the way you were.

As you went around him, you noticed the back of his shirt was slightly tugged down, revealing slithers of iridescent scars. Many, many scars.

"What are you doing?" He snapped, but you remained silent until you faced him again. And this time all you did was stare back at him, mind deep in thought. Something stirred deep in your chest. Regret? Sympathy?

"You're just a kid." The words left your mouth in a gentle whisper as you realised he was probably no older than you.

So no, he wasn't a kid. But he wasn't old enough to have his body broken by you. Sure, you butchered people with your mind all the time. But they were criminals. Enemies. Scum. They always had it coming. But him? Red Hood?

You just couldn't do it. It was ridiculous, you knew that. But you couldn't. You wondered where Two-Face was and how he'd react to your odd decision. But hell, you didn't care about ignoring Two-Face's order. Rules and regulations never stopped you before, and what was he going to do?

Jason initially wanted to get even more mad about that statement. Insulted that you just called him a boy when he was in his 20's. But he kept to himself, continuing to watch you closely.

"So what are you gonna do now huh? Cause this game is getting a little boring Crimson."

His attitude made you smirk a little. You suddenly slipped a red-blade dagger from your belt. Jason frowned, wondering why you wouldn't just use you powers, when you cut the zip ties and rope keeping him bound.

Now he was glancing up at you, eyes wide with confusion and suspicion.

"You gonna go or did you actually want me to hurt you?" You asked, brows raised. But already knowing the answer, you were turning to leave.

"Why are you doing this?" He sounded like he was accusing you of something. You turned to look back over your shoulder.

The sympathy was back, but also a few other feelings. Butterflies in your stomach and what not. Shit he was handsome.

"I don't know," you shrugged. "You're kinda cute."

He scoffed before grabbing his helmet from the floor. "Spare me."

Suddenly a sharp pain began in his knees before they turned into brittle leaves. He dropped down onto them and stayed there as the pain began to subside. Then he shot a glare up at you. You were already standing before Jason and looking down at him, that smug smile on your pretty face.

"Mm," You hummed, eyes dancing across his features as you took him in. "Very cute."

Then you turned to leave, and Jason was left blushing and speechless.

Part 2

˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖

#jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fluff #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x reader #arkham knight #arkhamverse #dca fandom #dc comics #dcu #dc universe #red hood angst #angst #jason todd angst

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writerofthewinds · 1 year

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Nikolai lantsov fluff alphabet

A/N: I watched shadow and bone last week and I fell IN LOVE with him so here's a fluff alphabet about him (NSFW Cumming soon hihi)

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Nikolai enjoys spending time with his significant other in various ways, from exploring the city to engaging in daring adventures together. He likes to share his love of flying and the sea with his partner and often takes them on exhilarating rides on his airship or ship. He also enjoys attending balls and social events with his s/o and spending quiet nights reading or playing games.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Nikolai is drawn to his partner's strength, intelligence, and courage. He finds their beauty in their unwavering loyalty and kindness, and he admires their quick wit and resourcefulness.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

When his s/o is feeling down, Nikolai would listen patiently and offer words of comfort and encouragement. He would make them feel safe and secure, using his humor and wit to lift their spirits and make them laugh.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Nikolai sees a future with his s/o filled with adventure, love, and loyalty. He envisions them ruling Ravka together as equals, supporting each other in their goals and aspirations.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship or relatively passive?

Nikolai believes in equality and mutual respect in his relationship. He values his partner's input and opinions and encourages them to speak their mind and pursue their own interests.

F ight - Would it be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

While Nikolai can be quick to anger, he is also quick to forgive and is not one to hold grudges. He believes in open and honest communication and tries to resolve conflicts calmly and rationally.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Nikolai is extremely grateful for everything his s/o does for him, and he makes sure to show his appreciation with words and actions. He recognizes the sacrifices his partner has made for him and does not take their love and support for granted.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Nikolai values honesty and transparency in his relationship and does not keep secrets from his s/o. He believes in open and honest communication and expects the same from his partner.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

While Nikolai is a strong and confident person, he acknowledges that his s/o has helped him grow and evolve as a person. They have inspired him to be a better man and more compassionate and understanding.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous quickly? How do they deal with it?

While he can be possessive of his s/o, Nikolai trusts them completely and does not get jealous quickly. He would deal with any feelings of jealousy calmly and rationally, communicating openly and honestly with his partner.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Nikolai is a skilled kisser, with a confident and passionate approach. His first kiss with his s/o was electric and unforgettable, leaving both of them breathless and wanting more.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Nikolai would confess his love to his s/o with a grand gesture, perhaps taking them on a romantic airship ride under the stars. He would express his love in his own charming and witty way, telling them how much they mean to him and how much he cherishes their relationship.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

While he is not one to rush into marriage, Nikolai can envision a future with his s/o where they are partners in every sense of the word. He would propose uniquely and thoughtfully, considering their interests and personalities. The marriage would be a celebration of their love and a reflection of their shared values.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Nikolai is fond of using nicknames for his s/o, such as "my love" or "darling," depending on the situation and their mood.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it evident to others? How do they express their feelings?

When he is in love, Nikolai is effusive and passionate, wearing his heart on his sleeve. He expresses his passion through grand gestures and thoughtful acts, and it is clear to everyone around him that he is head over heels for his s/o.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Nikolai is upfront about his relationship and enjoys showing off his s/o in front of others. He is not shy to kiss or hold hands in public.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Nikolai has a great sense of humor, and he loves to make his s/o laugh. He can always lighten the mood with a witty comment or a silly joke.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Nikolai is a hopeless romantic and loves to do grand romantic gestures for his s/o. He would plan surprise dates, write love letters, and shower his s/o affectionately to make them happy.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Nikolai is very supportive of his s/o and believes in them. He would do anything to help them achieve their goals and dreams.

T hrill - Do they need to try new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a specific routine?

Nikolai enjoys trying out new things with his s/o and keeping things exciting. He is always up for an adventure and loves to surprise his s/o with something new.

U nderstanding - How well do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Nikolai is very empathetic and understanding toward his partner. He knows them well and can always tell when something is wrong. He is a great listener and always offers a shoulder to lean on.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it worth in comparison to other things in their life?

The relationship is significant to Nikolai, who values it above other things in his life. He sees his s/o as his equal partner and wants to build a future with them.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Once he organized a whole day just the both of them (which is exceptional considering how busy he is ) Horse riding picnic in the wild, roaming around rakva with the hummingbird you came back with you on a little cloud

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Nikolai is very affectionate and loves to cuddle and kiss his s/o. He always looks for ways to show his love and make his partner feel special.He adores wit hen his so plays with his hair

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Let's say you have to go somewhere far. Nikolai would always be in touch with him so you should expect a frequent amount of letters from him telling him everything that happens when you are gone you can tell he misses you in those letters

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Nikolai is willing to go to great lengths for the relationship, including making sacrifices and taking risks. He would fight for his s/o and do whatever it took to keep them safe and happy.

#shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai x reader #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov x male reader #male reader #fluff x reader #nikolai lantsov x reader

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beautifulmakkaris · 10 months

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If you're missing Lockwood and Co, don't despair! Here are some recommendations from fans of the show and books to help fill the void while we fight for season 2 - please share far and wide <3

All recs are from responses to this post, myself and things I've seen floating around the internet (ie, Goodreads suggestions/lists). Recs may be based on specific characters, ships, tropes, genres, worldbuilding or just general ~vibes.

Please make sure to check all content warnings before reading/watching any recommendations on this list.

Books (standalone)

Spellbound by F. T. Lukens

The Agency for Scandal by Laura Wood

The Dead Romantics by Ashley Poston

The Cheat Sheet by Sarah Adams

This May End Badly by Samantha Markum

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

The Ex Hex by Erin Sterling

A Sky Painted Gold by Laura Wood

The Hidden Dragon by Melissa Marr

Trouble by Lex Croucher

Books (series - *ongoing)

Shades of Magic by V. E. Schwab

Skulduggery Pleasant by Derek Landy

A Good Girl's Guide to Murder by Holly Jackson

The Locked Tomb by Tamsyn Muir*

Virals by Kathy Reichs

The Shades of London by Maureen Johnson

The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater

Jackaby by William Ritter

Charlotte Holmes by Brittany Cavallaro

The Checquy Files by Daniel O'Malley

Alex Stern by Leigh Bardugo*

Stalking Jack the Ripper by Kerry Maniscalco

Scarlet by A. C. Gaughen

Renegades by Marissa Meyer

The Diviners by Libba Bray

City of Ghosts by Victoria Schwab

Percy Jackson & the Olympians by Rick Riordan

Mokee Joe by Peter J. Murray

Mortal Engines by Philip Reeve

Murder Most Unladylike by Robin Stevens*

Letters of Enchantment by Rebecca Ross*

The Left-Handed Booksellers of London by Garth Nix

Dreadwood by Jennifer Killick

The Empyrean by Rebecca Yarros*

The Bartimaeus Sequence by Jonathan Stroud

Ankh-Morpork City Watch (Discworld) by Terry Pratchett

The Mistborn Trilogy by Brandon Sanderson

Scarlett & Browne by Jonathan Stroud

His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman

Books (graphic novels)

Locke & Key by Joe Hill

Television series (*-ongoing)

School Spirits*

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Shadow & Bone

Wednesday*

Stranger Things*

CW's Nancy Drew

Shadowhunters

Locke & Key

The Bastard Son and the Devil Himself

Spooksville

The Midnight Club

Teen Wolf

Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency

Grimm

Please feel free to keep sending recommendations my way and I'll update this list as often as I can! Also let me know if you enjoy anything you found from this list, I'd love to know if you found it helpful :)

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anothertimdrakestan · 8 months

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Death Wont Do - Jason Todd x Reader

TW: blood & gore & angst

a little more dramatic and descriptive than my usual style, let me know what you think

~~~

It's like a 6th sense. The quietest feeling that something's wrong. The feeling in your stomach that keeps you up just a little later than normal.

You were sat on the couch of your apartment, mindlessly checking your phone as some song hummed softly in the background, a glass of something bubbly on the side table next to you to fill the void of Jason being out on patrol. You knew he'd come back later than you usually stayed up, but you felt like waiting for a goodnight kiss.

And suddenly you got the text:

It's Tim on J's phone, get to cave asap if you're reading this.

A pit formed in your stomach as you rushed to grab your keys. A few minutes drive and 10 missed calls as you frantically dialed Tim and Jason before realizing it was serious enough neither was responding.

You braced yourself for what you'd walk into: blood, pain, panic, but the cave was empty. Confusion bubbled up against the fear, hoping between clenched teeth for a prank or a lighthearted surprise. Nonetheless, your instincts urged you to prepare for the worst.

You pulled out the medbay: stitching supplies at the ready, stretcher wheels unlocked, bandages organized just the way Alfred had taught you- where was Alfred? Where was Bruce or Damian- even Jon or Conner who were frequently watching some sort of cartoon on the giant screen in the cave at this time.

Cass was the first in the cave, you recognized the rev of her bike, rushing to the entrance. Her suit was torn, deep gashes that stung you just by looking at them. She pulled off her mask with a wince, an expression you weren't used to seeing on her typical stoic face. You were her shadow as she sat herself down at your faux-medbay and began cleaning and stitching her own wounds, she wouldn't want to be touched right now and from your assessment she was more than capable in her condition.

You broke the steady silence: "is it- is everyone? What happened out there Cass?" knowing she wouldn't really respond you took her shaking her head as a gutwrenching response.

And for what might've been the first time in your life, you saw her whipser "bad" as she locked eyes with you.

Before you could process just what that meant, the quiet hum of the batmobile ripped you from your dread and into action. You heard an echoing shout as Damian lept from the passenger seat of the still moving car, almost flying towards you as the batmobile came to a screeching halt.

"It's Todd, it's not good. Quickly." were the few words the boy wonder could mutter as he started pulling the stretcher towards the car. You followed silently, blood already pounding in your ears.

The door of the car opened and you saw Jason draped across the backseat, muttering and groaning as Damian began to drag him onto the stretcher.

You froze at the sight, bones jutted up out of his skin like a brutal landscape of fractures. His skin, paler than ever before, appeared as if it had lost all its color, like it had bled out completely. Like a corpse in a movie, where CGI created almost inhumane wounds, Jason bore them right in front of you.

Tim's car door slamming ripped you from your shock. He rounded the car instantly and began helping Damian gently move Jason to the cot. While Cass and Damian were silent in a panic, Tim couldn't help but talk through his terror:

"It's all over, well pretty much over. Bruce and the rest are out cleaning it up but he told us to get Jay home because well, I mean he hasn't look worse since probably his first death. And I really don't want to be here for his second. Dames, pull I'll push, God he's heavy, alright, Y/N lock the wheels Damian grab start cleaning wounds on his legs I'll take torso- Y/N? Lock the damn wheels."

Again you snapped into reality, realizing you'd trailed behind the bloody precession. You lowered yourself to secure the wheels, the cool air providing a momentary relief as the weight of the situation settled in. You thought about staying down there, curling up beneath the cot and waiting until the nightmare was over. Tim and Damian were a well oiled triage machine above you- calling out stitching plans, applying bandages, preparing casts for the breaks.

And for the first time, Jason called out softly for you, "Y/N?" You shot up, immediately at his side, pushing the sweat and blood matted hair away from his eyes. They were closed, furrowed in agony but he still called for you, "where's Y/N? I need to see-"

"I'm here, I'm right here Jace." your voice wavering, but he got more frantic, shaking and groaning as Tim and Damian began to restrain him. "No! I need to see her! Stop, take me home! She lives at-"

"Jace I'm right here, I'm here, can you look at me?" your voice was pitchy and raw as you cupped his cheek in your hand. As you lightly pressed your finger to his temple his eyes shot open and wildly took in his surroundings before landing on you. Like an exhale he sunk back into the stretcher, eyes fluttering shut once again.

Beneath his closed eyelids, the pain etched deep lines on his face, but Tim soldiered on, having forced Damian to go tend to his own wounds. The silence was painful, but you had to ask, "he's gonna be okay right?"

Tim's eyes flashed up to meet yours with a kind of smile, "this big guy's been dipped in the Lazarus pit. It's gonna take more than some broken bones and a few lost pints of blood to kill him. Here, come bandage his arms, it's better than staring at his ugly face." you felt a small smile bubble up, Jason's face was bruised and his nose slightly crooked, but you appreciated the quip.

"Here, clean, apply gauze, and wrap. These are all superficial so I promise you can't mess anything up." he pushed bandaging materials into your shaking hands. At first you could barely move, but soon it felt soothing to lend a helping hand. Tim was focused and quiet, and you slowly worked your way up each of Jason's arms, carely wrapping any tear in his skin you could find.

Tim suddenly stepped back with a deep and satified sigh, heading towards the medicine pantry. He came back with an IV and softly nudged your shoulder, "he'll be okay, gonna give him fluids and enough of a sedative to knock him out for a few hours. Go wash off, eat something, and come on back to trade my shift watching him."

You nodded, looking down to realize you were also now covered in a layer of sweat and blood. "Tim, he would've died without you, you're incredible. I'll be right back." you couldn't exactly find the words for the gratitude, but Tim shook it off nonetheless.

"I had to stay in the 'zero Jason deaths' club, Bruce and Dick would've had a field day." you shook your head, beelining for a shower.

When you came back down to the cave Tim was in a tshirt and sweatpants, his own bandages peeking from the sleeves of the shirt. "Ready for a shift change?" you called, causing him to swivel around in the batcave chair and stand up with a stretch.

"You were fast! He'll probably wake up in a few hours, text me whenever for whatever." with a yawn he shuffled out of the cave and you planted yourself in the chair next to Jason.

You nearly screamed as Jason suddenly whispered "is he gone?" Like a cartoon he opened one squinting eye before deciding to fully lock his emerald eyes with your own. "Coast is clear, how are you love?"

You were stunned, "I- you were- how are you? I mean I'm fine, clearly. But what in the-" Jason laughed into a wince but answered:

"Had a couple crazy dreams, I woke up when I heard you call for Tim but wanted the shift change so Tim didn't spend 20 minutes calling me an idiot and a careless maniac.

You shook your head, "and if I call you an idiot and a careless maniac?" but Jason just hummed and attempted to shrug. "Jason Peter Todd you almost died!"

"Keyword there is 'almost' sweetheart."

"And what if Tim and Damian weren't there? What if you'd actually died?" you cupped his cheek again, letting the weight of his head rest into your palm.

"Not even death would stop me from crawling home to you." he vowed. At that, you sunk down, resting your head on his shoulder and lightly running your hand across his chest.

"I believe you, I do. But tell me you'll never let it get to that. This was too much for me Jace I almost thought you were dead when they pulled you out of the car."

He tensed, "you were here for all that? I'm sorry, I don't want to scare you like that." You couldn't believe the man on his deathbed was apologizing to you, but somehow it all felt very Jason Todd.

"It's okay Jay, I'm just glad you're here."

"Always, now scoot me over so I can hold you," he murmered, groaning as he pushed himself over enough to make room for you to slip in next to him. He went to raise his arm and looked annoyed saying, "damn Tim bandaged my whole damn arms. I look like a mummy the hell was he doing" and you stiffened against him.

"Okay asshole that's my bandaging work there, and I'll have you know I stopped a whole lot of your blood from pouring out of your arms." you gave him a childish glare while Jason looked at you with a smirk.

"Remind me never to get a papercut around you, I might lose circulation." he teased, draped a mummy-arm around you as you relaxed into his embrace.

You retorted: "At least I didn't get wheeled into the cave looking like casper the ghost"

"Alright alright, no more near death experiences, scout's honor." he chuckled, and you decided it was a good enough promise for now.

"Deal" you replied, slowly letting the soft sound of Jason's breathing lull you to sleep as your adrenaline had finally dissipated, finally allowing yourself to believe your boy would live to see another night.

Tomorrow? Or the day after that? Well, that would have to be future Y/N's problem :)

Hope you enjoyed, let me know if you caught the song reference. xoxo

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tielwrites · 11 months

Text

BAT!DAD finding out Jason’s death.

I was inspired by Neytiri’s rage in ATWOW, like damn that is a parent’s anguish and rage. So for now let’s bask into the grief.

WARNING: ANGST, CHARACTER DEATH, VIOLENCE, and BLOOD.

M/N paces around the living room in the manor, waiting in on the update about Jason’s whereabouts. He tries to will himself to calm down, however his patience is running thin from his worry. Every second that he does not hear anything about his son.

The father deeply sighing, remembering what he saw earlier in the bat cave. Joker’s maniacal laugh blasting from the speakers as he shows a beaten up Jason on the wheelchair.

His face was branded with a ‘J’ on his left cheek, nose dripping with blood. His face black and blue, face streamed down with blood. Making M/N gag at the pool of blood on the floor.

His Jason, his son, tortured and kept down in the chair.

Oh how M/N wanted to grab him from there and free him, holding him and protecting him from this evil bastard of a clown.

But no, all he could do is watch as the villain bashes shadow with a crowbar on his hand, the crack of the bone going around the cave, making M/N’s stomach churn and his chest going tight at the horrid and cruel scene.

“You have one hour batsy!” The Joker says with a manic smile, eyes staring at the camera as if looking at the two parents.

Bruce takes off with his Batmobile to wherever Joker’s whereabouts were. Leaving M/N staring at the screen, now black, his heart pounding fast and ears ringing.

—————————————

An hour has passed and M/N is biting at his nails on the couch. No updates yet, the wait is grating on the male, making his stomach churn in worry.

Alfred goes to him, seeing his state, the butler walks towards him stopping a few feet away from the man.

“Would you like some tea Master M/N? It could help you.” Alfred says.

The father looks up at the butler and sighs, willing his heart rate to calm down.

“Yes please Alfred, thank you.”

Alfred nods and goes to the kitchen to prepare the herbal tea. M/N now pulls his knees to his chest to curl into a ball. Trying to calm himself.

It wasn’t until the door slams open, making the father jump from the seat in surprise.

Bruce is here.

M/N races to the front and as he nears the hallway, he comes into a sudden halt. His eyes wide as he stares at the two figures at the entrance.

Bruce carrying Jason in his arms.

Dead.

His sweet boy in his husband’s arms. Bloody and DEAD.

The male raises a shaky hand to cover his mouth in shock and anguish.

“No, no, no, no,” M/N says softly, eyes starting to tear up, “no, Jason, no.”

Bruce still looking down, not daring to look up to see his husband’s grief stricken face.

“No, no, NO! NOOO!” The father screams out as he moves forward to get closer to his husband and son. His boy, who was far too young to be taken from this cruel world. It was as if a part of his heart was ripped off his chest.

“JASON! NOOO, MY SON!” M/N continues to scream as tears started to stream down his cheeks, ears ringing and legs shaking from the sight.

M/N drops to his knees on the ground, Bruce going with him. The father takes Jason from the vigilante’s arms and hugs him close. Bruce lets him as he now stares at his bloodied gloves.

“NO, MY SON. NOT MY SON. GOD WHY. WHY!?” The grieving father continues to scream out, his voice straining.

M/N continues to rock his body, his son close to his chest, his arms tight around the cold, dead body. His shoulder’s shake from his continuous sobs.

Alfred saw the whole scene with shock, as he hears your anguish wails echoing in the corridor.

The butler steels himself and goes to the pair, he kneels down and placed a hand on the crying father, making him turn to the butler.

M/N let’s out a loud wail, as he looks up, his eyes blurry from all the hot tears flowing out of him.

“Master M/N,” Alfred says softly, “we need to bring him to the cave to clean him.”

M/N bawls out more as he presses Jason closer to his body. Not wanting to let go of him. His cheek onto the boy’s hair.

“No, Alfred. Please, don’t take him away.” M/N sobs out as he starts to cough, his throat scratchy from how tight and strained it has become.

Alfred sighs as he turns to the quiet vigilante, still out from the world. Wallowing into himself in his head.

“We must clean his body from the blood Master M/N so Master Jason can finally rest.”

The father shakes his head and grits his teeth.

“You can carry him, I will not take Master Jason from you, we will just need to clean him in the bat cave.”

M/N starts to consider it in his hazy mind, as he tries to calm his cries down. He coughs out as he tries to clear his throat, he turns back to Jason in his arms and bites his lip to not let anymore cries out.

“A-Alright.”

Alfred then stands up straight and waits for M/N to stand up, he then turns to Bruce.

“Master Bruce.” Alfred calls out.

Bruce finally looks up at the butler and sighs out a shaky breath and nods. He turns to his husband and helps him up as Jason stays in M/N’s arms. Bruce looks at his husband’s face, eyes red and swollen, tears staining his cheeks.

Grief has over taken his love.

How could he have let his son die at the hands of his nemesis.

Bruce cups M/N’s cheek and the other looks up at the vigilante with tired and grief filled eyes.

Oh how the world is cruel.

——————————————-

Hello so here are the things that happened and some headcanons:

Batdad was at the brink of divorcing Bruce when the other refuses to kill Joker when they capture him.

Tensions were high at the manor at all times, it always ends up with a full blown argument between the two.

Dick regularly visiting Batdad to keep him company and to comfort him.

Ever since Jason’s death Batdad has withdrawn to himself, blaming both himself and Bruce for not being able to protect him. To save him.

Bruce letting his rage and vengeance fuel him to keep patrolling at night, sometimes not even coming home to sleep, just to stay at the bat cave just to watch the city.

When Bruce adopts Tim, Batdad at first couldn’t bring himself to welcome the young boy with open arms. Jason’s death still taking a toll on him.

But within time Tim was able to worm his way into Batdad’s heart.

When Batdad found out that Tim was going to be the next Robin. All hell breaks loose in the manor. A screaming match between the two.

“YOU WANT TO LET ANOTHER BOY DIE IN THE HANDS OF THE JOKER!? HAVING ANOTHER BLOOD SPILLED IN YOUR HANDS!?”

“HE WANTED THIS M/N! I NEED HIM TO KEEP THIS CITY SAFE WITH ME.”

After that it strained M/N’s relationship to both Bruce and Tim.

When Jason come’s back as Red Hood from the dead, and you reunite with him by saving Batdad from some villain when you got kidnapped.

After that encounter Batdad would always meet Red Hood at night. Visits him at the enterprises, after the visit it leaves the man feeling as if he was talking to his dead son.

After it was confirmed that Red Hood was Jason from one of their visits. Jason taking off his red helmet, and of course getting an armful of his father. A tearful and sweet reunion.

I’m gonna leave it at that, you can imagine the rest. Thank you for reading hope you enjoyed it.

#batdad #batfam #jason todd #Bruce x Male reader #batman x male reader #Batdad x batfam #angst #whump #death #bruce wayne #male reader #male!reader #dc universe #ARKHAM UNIVERSE #the joker

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bi-bard · 1 year

Text

I Don't Need to Break Down, You Still Found Me - Nikolai Lantsov Imagine [Shadow & Bone]

Title: I Don't Need to Break Down, You Still Found Me

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov X Reader

Word Count: 1,572 words

Warning(s): mention of unhealthy relationship (manipulation, burnout) and unhealthy family

Summary: [Inspired by "Slow Burn" by J. Maya] A new person joins Sturmhond's crew but refuses to talk about their history. One late night reveals secrets about the new member and the captain... and leads to a realization about whatever is between the two of them.

Author's Note: Y'all. This song is so beautiful.

------------------

I could still remember the nervousness that crawled around my stomach as I stood on the ship for the first time.

The entire crew had been standing there, staring at me as we waited for the captain to come out. It felt like a test. As if they were trying to see if I would crack and run for it. Sadly for them, my need to run from this place was far stronger than my fear.

The captain came out. He was introduced as Sturmhond. I had to bite back the urge to make a comment about how fake that name sounded.

I was asked why I wanted to be there.

I lied and said that I was curious about the world and this ship was my only chance to truly see it.

That seemed to impress him. I could see it in the smirk he offered me as he tilted his head for just a second.

He asked what I could offer.

I didn't lie about that. I didn't have any money to offer him. I had nights upon nights memorizing the layout of any map I could find. I could show them places that may have never considered before.

He raised an eyebrow at me. I felt his eyes tracing over me. Testing me much like the rest of his crew had.

"Come with me," he said simply. I readjusted my small bag on my shoulder and followed him. He ended up leading me to a bunk in the far corner. "This is where you'll stay. We'll assign you to a proper role soon enough."

"Alright," I nodded. He was walking away by the time I spoke up again. "Th-Thank you! Sturmhond, thank you."

"Just don't make me regret it."

I grinned at him, promising that I wouldn't.

I spent weeks trying to prove myself on that ship. Not that I truly needed to. The crew had warmed up to me far faster than I ever expected them to. Even their captain seemed to already be convinced that he wouldn't regret allowing me to join them.

Sturmhond.

He was an interesting man. Throughout my time on his ship, we grew close. It felt like we grew far closer than we should have in such a short period of time. But spending time with him was accompanied by this feeling of calmness that I couldn't make sense of yet felt like I couldn't without.

It wasn't fair that he could have such an effect on me so easily. But I still held onto it. It may have been the best part of being on that ship.

Truly, the only problem I encountered was at night.

Night watch had become the best thing for me. At least then, no one could question why I seemed to get almost no sleep.

But on the nights when I wasn't on watch, I had no excuse. I just had to hide in my little corner and hope that no one realized that I wasn't sleeping nearly as much as I needed to.

No one confronted me about it.

Not until one night.

I was standing near the railing. It was the first night that the corner that I had been hiding in finally felt too small. I needed the moment alone with the air. The night watch was too focused on whatever card game they were playing. To be completely honest, I don't think any of them even knew that I was there. I didn't think that anyone did.

"Trouble sleeping?"

I jumped at the sound of a voice. I looked over to see Sturmhond standing at the base of the steps next to me. He held up his hands up.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's alright," I grinned. "Night watch is over there playing cards."

"Well, I wasn't looking for them," he shrugged. "I saw that your bunk was empty, so I wanted to check on you."

"That's very kind of you," I replied. "Was this your normal nightly act of kindness or were you also struggling to sleep?"

He chuckled. "I would like to say both. Rarely sleep well."

I nodded, quietly agreeing with the sentiment. I had rarely slept well since I made it to the ship.

I moved to sit on the top of the steps.

"I'd be glad to keep you company," he offered. "Sit, talk, anything you wish."

"Okay," I nodded.

There was a long pause between us. I expected him to speak first and choose the course of the discussion. But he didn't.

"I don't know what you want me to say," I forced a chuckle.

"You could always start with the truth," he suggested.

I had to actively fight my smile from dropping at the statement. I knew what he was asking. I just didn't want to show him that in the hopes that I could still get out of talking about it. I tilted my head at him.

"I could go first," he added. "If it makes you feel better."

I raised an eyebrow at him.

He took a few steps up so our faces were level. He leaned over so he could whisper to me, "My name isn't Sturmhond."

"I knew it," I said. He shushed me quietly, laughing to himself. "What's your name?"

He took a deep breath as if he were embarrassed. "Nikolai."

I tried to hold my laugh back, but it didn't work very well. I ended up trying to stifle my laugh.

"Shush-"

"Nikolai," I muttered to him. "You were ashamed of the name Nikolai, so you landed on Sturmhond?

"I wasn't ashamed of my name."

"Then why change it?"

"Why did you lie about why you wanted on this ship?" he countered.

I froze. My smile dropped and I stared at him. I didn't want to talk about this. I didn't even want to think about it anymore. But here I was, left with no choice. I either told him the truth or tried to fight him. I would never win a fight against his crew.

"(Y/n)-"

"Why do you want to know about it," I asked. "Why does it matter?"

"I need to know about any risk to my crew."

I closed my eyes.

"I need to know what risk you're facing, so I can ensure that I- we can do the most to protect you."

I looked at him again and saw nothing but concern gracing his features. Eyebrows drawn up in the middle, a frown forming on his lips, his eyes dancing around my face for the answers that I wasn't saying out loud.

"It's... There was a guy," I managed to mutter out. "We were meant to be together forever. My parents were convinced of the fact. But he didn't want me. He wanted to be wanted. Needed. I didn't always make him feel that way. And I hated how I felt when I did."

"Did he hurt you-"

"Saints, no," I shook my head. "He just enjoyed thinking that I was fighting for him. When I didn't seem to be, he deemed that I didn't love him. That I was just selfish. I was just being... drained. Running was the only way for me to get out without him trying to guilt me into staying."

"Do you think he'll look for you?"

"No," I replied. "I think he'll find someone new. I just couldn't face my family. They'd just tell me to go back."

"Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

"I thought that you would turn me away," I shrugged. "That my situation wouldn't be serious enough for you."

I felt a hand reach out and touch mine.

"You deserve more," he said quietly. "So much more."

"I know... that's why I had to leave."

There was this moment.

This moment where the two of us locked eyes. Silence on both sides. I was suddenly hit with every moment where I had looked at him and felt that odd peace. That peace that hadn't quite made sense at the time. But now, nothing made more sense to me.

"(Y/n)-"

I cut Nikolai off by leaning over to press my lips to his. His hands landed on each side of me as he slowly kissed me back.

I felt the flames crawling along my skin. Slow enough for me to know it was there. Careful enough to warm my skin without scorching me. It merely crawled through my blood and laid in my veins like a comfortable blanket on a freezing day. I could feel how warm I had gotten during the kiss. And I didn't mind the feeling at all.

It was everything that I had ever craved. I had lost faith in ever finding this. All I needed now was for Nikolai to feel the same way that I did.

I pulled away first, grinning at him. "Was that okay?"

I watched the smile slowly stretch across his face before he spoke, "Yeah. It was... far more than okay."

I slowly nodded.

He slowly stepped back, reaching out a hand to help me up and lead me down the steps. "I think it's time for both of us to get some much-needed rest, don't you?"

"I couldn't agree more," I replied.

He leaned in and kissed me again. It was shorter this time, but that didn't stop him from offering me another smile.

This was a feeling that I could easily get used to.

------------------

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#nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov x reader #imagine #fanfiction #x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction

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nightghoul381 · 9 months

Text

Jude Jazza~Luxury Liner Event~Premium End

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

(Ugh… It’s heavy…)

I ran out of the casino carrying the chair and ran in the opposite direction of the people screaming and running away.

I finally found Jude and Ellis, who were confronting the gangsters, in the center of the hall.

(…This is, certainly.)

(A ‘brawl’)

The two don’t use their abilities, probably because they’re worried about being seen in a brawl in broad daylight.

(On the contrary, Jude and Ellis didn’t even draw their weapons.)

Despite this, the two seemed to have the upper hand against the knife-wielding gangsters.

Man in hunting cap: “Ugh, guaaah.”

Jude: “Shut up. Yer not even hurting me and yer causing a scene.”

Stepping on the downcast man, Jude put a merciless smile on his thin lips.

Jude: “Yer the one who went to all the trouble of jumpin’ in to be tortured. I did as ya asked, so you should be grateful.”

Jude: “Don’t I get a ‘thank you’?”

Man with stubble: “You lickspittle…!!”

(Watch out--!)

He narrowly dodged a knife from behind and his fist sank into the attacker’s abdomen.

Man with stubble: “Ugh, oof…”

Jude: “Yer supposed to be a ‘gangster’? Oh my God, yer so glum.”

Jude: “Why don’t ya change yer name to ‘ragdoll’?”

Ellis: “Jude, behind!”

Jude: “…!”

Jude caught the strong man’s fist with his arm as it flew at him from behind.

There’s a dull sound, like bone hitting bone.

Strong man: “…I’m gonna smash your clear face into a million pieces.”

Jude: “You’ve got good taste.”

(I can’t watch…)

The series of movements that could have been fatal at any moment make me want to close my eyes.

However I forced myself to keep watching the frenzy unfolding before me.

(--It’s scary, but)

(If I close my eyes, there was no point in following them.)

(That said, I’m still scared…)

I was feeling worried and impatient, and then—

Man with glasses: “…shit…!”

(--?)

A short distance away from the scuffle, I spotted a man hiding in the shadows.

Judging from the appearance, he was probably a member of the gang.

(is that—a gun?)

My heart makes an unpleasant sound.

The muzzle was set on –Jude.

(J-Jude and Ellis, you might not have noticed!)

(But there’s no way to check… if something happens, it’ll be too late.)

Kate: “…mm”

I slowly move forward, though my legs seem frozen in fear.

(Jude is the kind of person who uses people as gambling commodities, puts them in handcuffs, and leaves them by themselves.)

(But I can’t let you die.)

So, I approach the man’s back.

There’s no indication that the man has noticed me, his focus is set on aiming at Jude amidst the mix of friend and foe.

(What am I doing…?)

(But now that I’ve come this far, I have no choice but to do it…!)

With the remaining strength in my tired arms, I lifted the chair—

(I’m sorry…!)

I swung down with all my might.

Man with the gun: “Guah!?”

Kate: “Ouch!”

The handcuffs twisted in a strange way, rubbing, and hurting my wrists.

The man collapsed on the spot and the pistol fell out of his hand and slid across the floor.

(G-good--)

But the gun unfortunately hit another gangster’s foot.

Slender man: “What the hell--!”

My eyes met with the man who picked up the gun.

(This is bad.)

Even though I know I have to run away—my legs freeze.

Slender man: “What the hell did you do to that guy?!”

Kate: “Ah…uh…!”

The moment when the gun is pointed at me and fear wells up—

The man’s body is blown off to the side

Kate: “Huh…”

Jude: “… What are you doing?”

While slowly lowering the leg that kicked the man away,

Jude was staring at me with a stunned look of exasperation and a little annoyance.

(Oh…that…it’s gone quiet.)

When I looked, the hall had been taken over and all the gangsters had fallen,

Ellis: “Jude, we’re done.”

Kate: “It’s finished…?”

Jude: “You can see it. Why’re you askin’?”

(It looks like both of them are safe.)

I feel relieved and my shoulders start to relax,

Involuntarily, I collapse on the spot.

Kate: “I… I’m glad…”

Jude: “…”

Ellis ran up the stairs to call a sailor and hand over the gangsters.

Jude: “…”

Jude- gingerly stepping to my side,

Crouched down and pulled my wrists, which were still handcuffed.

Kate: “I…”

The pain is so intense that it causes me to cry out when he traces his finger over the bloody spots where the handcuffs had rubbed against me.

Jude: “…It hurts, does it?” 5435

Though it’s obvious, Jude asks anyway.

(I followed you on my own… I’m sure Jude doesn’t like it.)

The pain is due to ignoring his advice. That’s what he’s trying to say.

(But…)

I don’t know this chaotic world as well as he does.

It’s not like I have any special abilities or a lot of experience.

Even the pinch just now was an everyday occurrence for Jude and the others.

I’m sure they would have made it through without me doing anything extra.

(But I …)

Kate: “…It doesn’t hurt that much.”

Jude: “It does hurt, doesn’t it?”

Kate: “It doesn’t hurt…”

(I don’t regret chasing you.)

(That’s why… these wounds don’t hurt.)

I didn’t want to be thought of as a princess who couldn’t do anything anymore.

(Not to this arrogant, cold, lousy…person who lives in a world so different from mine.)

(I want you to recognize me.)

(I want to stand in the same place and see the world.)

Jude: “…What’s there to be desperate about? Yer dealing with people (Crown) who hold yer life in their hands.”

Jude: “Ya shouldn’t be riskin’ yer life to save ‘em.”

Kate: “Whoever it is…letting them die would leave a bad aftertaste.”

Jude: “…Ha.”

Jude took out the key and unlocked my handcuffs.

Kate: “Hmm…”

The fingertips that traced my wounds earlier touched my wrists gently, as if teasing me, and my shoulders trembled involuntarily.

(Wh-what…)

He softly strokes the edge of the wound. The ambiguous stimulation causes a sweet, fidgety tingle to well up.

Jude: “…the bad aftertaste, I’m with ya on that.”

Kate: “Hmm…?”

The words that spilled out for a moment were strangely quiet, and I instinctively listen for them again, but,

Jude looked up, his usual, merciless smile on his face.

Jude: “Well, I don’t care how you feel.”

Jude: “You chased after me while carryin’ a chair, and the way ya looked at me when I played with yer wounds, not bad.”

Jude: “Yer so cute, yer worth torturing.”

The cold amethyst eyes staring down at me made my heart beat like mad again.

(Compliments like this don’t make me happy at all…)

(I mean, it’s not a compliment to say I’m worth torturing in the first place.)

(And yet…)

Why does this gaze, this arrogant whisper, make my heart flutter so much?

It must be the feeling of being recognized, just a little bit.

(…I’m just still on edge from the brawl earlier.)

(I’m sure that’s it.)

Even though I want to think that, the inside of my chest is strangely hot to blame it on fear.

Jude: “If ya keep hanging around me, yer gonna get hurt worse than this.”

Jude: “…when ya do, show me that pretty face of yers.”

I don’t know why, but my heart is disturbed by that cruel smile.

I didn’t want to admit that, so I stared back at Jude as sharply as I could.

Kate: “…I have no intention of complying with such a lousy request.”

Jude: “Ha, keep up the good work.”

Jude’s sadistic smile deepened as he arrogantly uttered,

Jude: “If ya cried too easily, that’d be boring, wouldn’t it?”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

#ikevil #ikemen villains #ikevil translations #jude jazza #ikevil jude #ikemen villains jude #ikevil jude jazza

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summertimemusician · 7 months

Text

Linktober (Shadow) 2023, Day 11

Monsters (Dead Hand)

Summer Stop Giving Reader/PoV Character and the Chain a Hard Time and Trauma Challenge (impossible) /j. But really I'll probably write something lighter for Linktober or Linktober Shadow later to compensate for this one lol. Probably a sequel to this one that has Reader actually having a nice time with the Links for once.

Technically since unfortunately studying for future exam season in like a couple of days has been kicking me in the ribs and thus my time was highly cut and unfortunately I don't have an Ocarina to give me more, this is actually a mix of prompts! The ones in the title, Keese, Wolfos, Wizzrobe, Lizalfos, Redead, and Boss, although they are not the focus here, mostly just mentioned but technically checking out the boxes, maybe next time I'll go more in deep on that (Like the original idea that basically was Reader taming a pet Wolfos as a guard hound that I will not elaborate on at least not this year), instead y'all get this with the boss that gave a lot of people childhood trauma and was never seeing again since because we really don't talk about just why Dead Hands are terrifying much, just that they are, really missed opportunity to use them more in an LU context lol.

As always any relationship between Reader and any of the Chain can be interpreted as romantic or platonic, and Reader is Gender Neutral on Purpose. And First is here because again, this would have been longer if exam season wasn't kicking me in the ribs and I have some really evil ideas involving First, Reader and Time bonding over having trauma of enclosed spaces, but thankfully y'all don't get that today lol, or not, it would be a really fluffy scene so up to y'all if it's a win or a loss.

TW:

Don't think there's anything too heavy-ish? But I'm a horror fan so I'm not someone who can accurately judge that. I'd say graphic descriptions of violence and gore, and being restrained/pinned in place and the entire deal that is the Dead Hand's existing, so please don't read if you're squeamish or uncomfortable. Health is important and specially mental health and I always leave these warnings on Linktober Shadow related prompts or heavier stories, so just a heads up so no one is caught by surprise.

Anyway, enjoy reading!

It was an almost unanimous agreement that no hero liked to pass through a cemetery in Hyrule.

From the restless Gibdo, to the mischievous yet usually cruel Poes and the lost Ghini, to the ever wandering Stalfos and the ghastly agonized Redead and ever determined ghoulish Garo, nothing good ever came from entering in areas where dead things roam. You can't be sure if it's because of the magic in Hyrule, the living force of light and shadow and the divinity coursing through the land, or simply the will of the undead or the consequences of Demise attempting to claim the Triforce, graveyards and desolated fields meant silence, they should be where those who are gone should finally acquire their final catharsis, not to roam endlessly without release, solemn as these places are they are still places for a peaceful end and to be denied such due to the whims of the Shadow... You can think of very few awful fates that can compare.

('Terrible fates, you could say.' The grimly bemused part of your mind whispers, as you walk alongside Time further down into the crypt that you and the Chain had followed the shadow into, silver, prisitne armor briefly blends with old, rusted, bloody gold and you think you hear the rattling of bones in the distance, the draw of a rusted, but still serviceable sword. You shut it away with a snarl as you cut down the Stalfos attempting to ambush Wild from the rear, and it goes down and back into the darkness with a screech alongside the chilling knowleged and the sick cracking of broken bones, not on your watch, never on your watch, you refuse.)

"Of all places why did it have to be a bloody crypt?" Grimaced Warriors, casting a weary glance towards the skulls decorating the walls, their empty sockets empty but silently cutting, as if sneering at the fact you lot had dared disturb the dead, as if it wasn't the Shadow's mere presence making what would otherwise be a place for rest into a possible death trap.

Legend smirked, though you could tell he wasn't anymore pleased from the way he marched through the cold, cracked stone floor, steps flighty and eyes darting around corners, "What, a bit too much for you, soldier boy?"

"No," came the prim answer, although the twitch of the hand near his scabbard as you stepped into an open chamber gave him away, as well as Wind being kept at his side rather than near the wall, "Just don't generally like fighting the undead in closed spaces. It's a recipe for disaster."

"On that I believe we all can agree on." Came Time's voice, cutting through the banter, tense as a drawn bowstring, you knew being back in a crypt wasn't easy for him, with the way his jaw tensed, you both had the same awful memories of a similarly buried, abandoned place where dead things roamed without cease, frantic, hungry for the warmth of the living, "Keep your guard up, and stay close together."

Almost as if on cue came the monsters from the open corridors, you didn't hesitate in drawing your blade to cut through the enemy, keese were easily dispatched by Four and Legend's swords, you spun to slit the throat of a growling Wolfos from Twilight's era going for Sky's back just as he mercilessly chased down the Black Lizalfos, the beast clearly avoiding the glow from the Sword of Evil's Bane. Time's back to yours as you cleared the path for him and blocked the Shadow's exit through the left corridor, it had already proven that it would not matter if you did or not, but you refused to not let it work for survival.

The jolt of magic being used crawling up your spine was your first warning. Like the build up of lightning in a storm, the taste of rust and a feeling like tar slithers up your throat.

The second was Wild's warning shout as the chamber shook with the grating, chilling, blood curdling howl of the Redeads, Time lunging away from your side to slash the beasts away from Wind and Warriors with all of the fury of a wolf defending it's pack, before you had to throw yourself back, slamming your back against the arch on the right as it caved in, lest you be crushed alongside the Wolfos coming for your neck the second the older hero moved.

You were separated.

You were alone.

A really, really bad spot to be when in Hyrule's catacombs.

"Are you alright?!", Came muffled from the other side of the stones, the hint of an actual wolf's growl and the distinctive Ordonian cadence, Twilight.

"I'm fine! Keep fighting, I'll find my way to you guys!", You yell back, heart racing, trying not to think about what you could find on your way back, you didn't have any bombs on you, it wasn't feasible to use them in a place as old as this, not without risk bringing down the ceiling on you and the Chain. But most catacombs have interconnected hallways, if you moved quickly, you might just avoid finding anything that you won't be able to handle on your own.

You think Twilight replies, but it's muffled by another Redead's yowl, you wince, your muscles lock up and you feel something warm drip from your ears, but thankfully you are not rendered immobile due to the involuntary wall, you swallow your trepidation and get moving.

The further you get away from the fallen stones, the more silent the catacombs extending from the crypt you were dropped in became, shadows twist oddly by the torches upon the wall with only your breathing and the cold, unfeeling remains of the dead to keep you company, the lowly burning flames bringing you no warmth. The corridors blended together in the darkness cast by the faint light, the shades contorting themselves in the crevices of your paranoia the longer you went on with only your own hurried footsteps to make any true sound.

Not one monster had found it's way to you thus far, though, and according to the copy of the map Legend had made the second you had acquired the original from a very unfortunate Wizzrobe from Wild's era. You just needed to pass one more open chamber to find the corridor leading to your boys, You couldn't keep them waiting, who knew how long it would take for the fight to finish if Redead's were involved? And staying still when the Shadow could turn itself intangible was practically begging it to switch it's attention, it usually didn't pay you as much mind as it did the heroes, Time specially (it seemed to hold a grudge against him more than any of your boys, you noted bitterly), but it would occasionally target you if it meant getting a rise from any of the Link's or if it felt you were too secure in your safety, it was better if you found your way back first to the hunt before you became hunted.

You grit your teeth, by Hylia's dripping gash, you were so. darn. tired. of. being. hunted.

Of watching your friends being led into a wild hunt with no end in sight, dragged by the noose by a remnant that refused to stay dead, you never thought you could burn with so much anger, with the desire to see if fire would scare it sober into ceasing in it's infection of all of Hyrule's Eras. But unfortunately you knew it didn't work like that, so you had to survive, you would survive, because someone had to protect the heroes when the heroes protected everyone else and if no one was going to step up to the job, you'd just have to do it yourself.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, lest you end up drowning in them, you breath in relief as soon as you come upon the metal door with the symbol of the royal family, faded and rusted with age, there. You just needed to pass through this chamber and the corridor next to it, and you'd be back with Link, all of them, and hopefully out of here. You push it open, grip tightening on your long dagger, almost a sword, good enough to cut and hide. The thick and pungent combination of old, congealed blood, sick and decaying flesh, something like rotten eggs dipped in alcohol and withered flowers hits your nose, making you nauseous but you press on, the chamber is circular and dimly lit, with a long cracked, soft stone from a leak in the walls. You studiously do not look at the far corner of the dungeon or the pillory's and shackles scattered around near the cells, there's a second door to the other side, as soon as you pass through it you'll be in another corridor.

... It's silent, too quiet. Unease slithers and twists around you like vines, but you can't delay, you won't, so you keep walking-

Until you can't.

Something has grabbed a hold of your leg. You look down, and your blood freezes, spotting a long, sickly, pale arm and a bright crimson, elongated nails, claw-like, digging into your ankle, having dug itself up from the fragile ground.

You don't hesitate, slashing down violently at the offending limb, frantic terror spreads through your blood, you knew what was here. It featured in your nightmares for a long, long time, you knew it still haunted Time's, the limb goes slack as it is severed, and you barely note the way it starts bleeding black and green at the stump, thankful for Four's expert craftsmanship and maintenance hints as you dive to the exit. You don't make it far, it's companion limbs bursting in front of your path like a snake emerging from the ground, it makes a solid grab for your arms, one of them grabs you by the scalp, firmly digging as you dodge and weave between, a stabbing pain upon your skull from the indomitable grip of something fueled by fury, twisted magic and rigor mortis and makes you cry out, your slight moment of hesitation allowing two more hands to latch onto your legs and arms, nails slicing through your flesh like easily and digging, tearing like a rabid hunting dog's teeth upon an unfortunate deer, leaving deep gashes upon your arms and ankles, it's not unlike being pinned and held to a torture rack, in hindsight, ironic given just where in the crypt you ended up.

Your hear the ground below shifting below you, a groan carrying through the air, awfully monstrous, coldly human. You struggle harder like a desperate butterfly upon a dissection board, from your peripheral, you see the form of the thing unhurriedly dragging itself over, it uses the sharp and bloody ends of where bone was broken to slice it's hands off to shuffle out of the grave, using it's stubs as support. Long long neck barely supporting it's elongated head, the scent of rot intensifies and you feel like gagging as it settles it's empty, frigid, hungry eye sockets on your bound form; it's broken jaw contorting itself in a mockery of a human smile over rotten gums and exposed teeth, stretching unnaturally and bringing emphasis to it's rotting, bloodied sunken features. From behind it's bloated, putrid shape, barely obscured by the bloodied white cloth and the grotesque vision of the undead you swear the crimson eyes of the shadow, watching you coldly, the hint of a knife sharp, serpentine smile as the sound of wet meat slamming across the ground rings in the chamber.

Fury mixes with your panic as you snarl, trying to twist the dagger in your grip as best as you can to drive it into the arms, pain and blood drips from the open wound but you don't care; you need to get away from the Dead Hand. A monster like that feels no pain when struck for it is not human, not any longer, and you couldn't hope to face an infected one alone, it shuffles over the floor, unhurriedly shuffling like a predator that knows it's prey can't run away, it moans and groans with hunger as it approaches and you have no intention of giving it a meal, you grit your teeth as the nails sink deeply into your shoulders and arms, using your blade to saw through rotting flesh and hopefully break bone with every single inch of strenght you have, the blade is slick in your hand with your own blood and the poison-tar of the Shadow's infection burning through you but you do not mind, can't. You need to get away-

The undead's teeth sink into the hollow of your collarbone, blunt, human teeth that shouldn't have half the strenght it does to rip through flesh, blood and crack bone, and you caterwaul with pain, skin crawling and numbing and set aflame with curses sent from the dark reflection of the hero, darkening, veins blackening, your eardrums vibrate with the force of your own agony and you are sure you could rival a Redead on pitch alone of your tortured howl. Struggling even more ferociously, attempting to disloged it, kick it off, your blade sucessfully slashes through the arm from your reverse grip, pushing away from it with the savegery off a cornered predator you sink your long dagger into the undead's eye sockets, tearing through it's cheek with animal ferocity, it keens high and chilling, you're losing blood quickly and it (for it's not a human, not anymore, you can't feel sympathy for it, won't. You can't hesitate.) knows, for it tries to chomp down onto your vulnerable neck, your arm being the only thing keeping it from biting it out as you growl with pain, although you can't be sure it just won't bite through, it's teeth are bared, the pitch of it's blank eyes locked onto yours in stalemate, you have the advantage of not being weakened by hunger and decay, not sluggish like it but that will not help for long, the clammy being determined to bleed you dry and feast on your corpse and you are drowning drowning drowningDROWNINGWITHWRETCHEDTORMENT MAKE.THE.PAIN.STOP-

A scream of your name, sword calloused hands yank you away from claws and fangs (because nothing with blunt teeth and nails should be able to wound someone so throughly), you waver on your feet, swaying, supported by a warm, strong body and pulled away. A sword slashes the foul being away from you and you go lax, numb with pain.

First, First was supporting you. Keeping you steady, stopping you from falling, snarling at the corpse with a lion's fury, holding you protectively. Time tears by him like a man possessed, frenzied with the look of a man looking at his worst nightmare and growling in denial. The Links, wounded but alive, the Chain had met you halfway.

The last thing you remember before losing conciousness as adrenaline leaves your body and everything goes dark, is wishing that they'll burn it to be sure it's gone for good. It's the kindest thing that can be done for a such a wretched existence.

You'd be okay.

#linked universe x reader #technically #lu first x reader #lu time x reader #but mostly only hinted at because things didn't go according to plan #anyway my pitch is that dead hands died of hunger more so than torture which is why they are so darn bitey #and that being an undead being in Hyrule is horror at it's finest actually and in this essay-#Really can't wait till exam season is finally over so I can ACTUALLY dig up those essays lmao #missing scenes include and are not limited to: First comforting Reader after because he knows intimately how unpleasant it is #to be restrained underground alone #and the two fall asleep on each other to reassure the other is still there #and protective Time caring for Reader because having Dead Hand Trauma™ dug up is not fun #On a Scale of Viscerally Hating the Dead Hands from Biggest to Lowest: Time First Twilight Warriors Sky Wild Hyrule Legend Four Wind #I will not elaborate why at this moment #And now I'll take a darn nap lol #summer writes linktober 2023 #summer writes linktober shadow 2023 #summer writes #Feral Reader #Reader gets to be capable as a treat

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jjungkooksthighs · 2 years

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Claws of Carnality | jjk (m) (12)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: abo/werewolf and fantasy

Rating: 18+/nsfw

Word Count: 18,600 words

Summary: A bond borne before dreams only grows stronger as you and your alpha make real your love as it is drawn in blood, sweat and tears.

Warnings: mentions of breeding, dom!jungkook, alpha!jungkook, alpha!Taehyung (he’s a bit of a cocky one this one), alpha!Jimin (best friends take after each other ig) sub!reader, omega!reader, cursing, praising, possessive!jungkook, LOTS OF TEASING, dirty talk, (blood) marking, mentions of breeding/ruts/heats, mentions of a mark, slick and pre-ejaculatory production, scent marking, scenting, fingering, begging, praise kink, breeding/impreg kink, character injury (someone gets hurt, but it isn’t serious)

A/N: This chapter should have been out far before now. I had so much I wanted to fit into this chapter and I kept going back to look at it only to erase page after page because I wasn’t happy with it. I really wanted to pack the fight into this one as you guys have been requesting for so long now, but I just didn’t feel like the time was right yet. Needless to say that I have worked for weeks on this chapter and to make up for my lack of posts, it is MUCH longer than my usual chapters. I hope you guys like it. I know I did. :)

As always, please let me know what you thought about this! Your comments and feedback are like cool rain after a hot summer day!

Series Masterlist / Previous Chapter

Silence scatters over the throng of wolves in the grassland with only the crackling of the fiercely burning fires alight in bronzed braziers along the stage and in carved brass lanterns hanging from the thick boughs of the trees circling the plain.

The wind does not breathe and your own breaths become stifled in the way that your lungs reject it.

Involuntarily, your eyes shut and you turn your face into your alpha’s chest, your back curling inward and your fingers gripping into his shirt.

No, no, no, no, please. Not him. No, anything but him. Keep him away. Keep him away from me!

Your thoughts run rampant and if you weren’t already in your alpha’s arms, your legs would have already brought you far, far from here.

Your alpha responds by protectively wrapping his arms even tighter around you, a low rumble reverberating from his chest and rising through his throat at the arrival of the new threat.

Ahead, a tawny-furred wolf stands proud atop the knoll overlooking the prairie, his eyes set only on you.

You can’t see him, but you can feel the bite of that devouring stare from where you are nestled in your intended’s arms. You grab at your alpha’s shirt even tighter, your fingernails curving into your soft flesh of your palm as you shake your head against your alpha as if doing so will make this all go away.

Your lungs burn because air will not fill them and it is as if ice as begun to freeze over your very veins in the fear that chills you to the bone as the wolf beyond jumps from the knoll, the crunch of the grass beneath his paws growing louder as he stalks closer.

It’s as if with each step, a piece of hail strikes your insides and it’s all you can do to stutter, “J-Jungkook.”

“I know, my love,” Your alpha nudges at the cheek you haven’t hidden in the folds of his blazer as he tells you, “I once told you that I used to watch over you. That means that I am aware of everything he tried to do to you,” his voice lowers and you do not see the way the shadows mar his features as he divulges, “And I shall you protect you from him now as I have for all these years. I will not let him near you and if he attempts to touch you, I shall make sure he knows just how sharp my fangs and claws really are. This, I promise to you.”

It takes a few moments for his oath to reach you with the frost that has seeped through your body and suspended proper blood flow that has numbed your very reactions. It is only the warmth of his words and the heat of his body that keep you from shutting down as your body wants to.

You try to open your one eye that peeks out from his blazer you’ve subconsciously buried your face in, but it’s as if your eye has been thawed shut and it takes some effort for you to wrench it open to stare up at him as you stammer again, “Y-you…what do you mean by ‘protect me as you have been?’ Does that mean…”

Your alpha nods before he descends to your temple and against your skin, he mouths, “Yes, my beloved. It is exactly what you are thinking,” his lips press against your brow, “all those times he tried to chase you through the forest when you would go there to be free from the responsibilities of being the one and only caretaker of the pack’s pups and in being the granddaughter of the Lead Elder who is charged with enforcing the rules and laws of our pack,” he brings his mouth to your right brow, his lips light as a bird’s wing as he admits, “It must have been so difficult for you, my love, to bear not only the task of nurturing the children, but also being the right-hand of the regulator of our ancient codes once your mother fell ill.”

He was right.

You’d barely turned eight before the first few litters of pups had been deposited on your doorstep and with your mother bed-ridden with the sickness that had driven your father into in incurable sadness, it had been left to you to care for the pups whose parents had needed someone to look after them while they went on hunts, harvests, heats or ruts. Any could go on for days at a time-and in the in latter cases, weeks at a time- and eventually, your den was too small to house you and the younglings, so you’d had to move to the schoolhouse that had been newly built by the compound’s skilled architects that had been tasked with creating an adjoining den amid the schoolhouse for all unpresented youth to stay in.

As you were the descendent of the Lead Elder and your mother had been the Keeper of Tomes- the ancient texts that proclaimed the history and edicts of the lupine- both had passed on their knowledge to you from the early age of four and it quickly became the expectation of both them and the rest of the pack that you would be their second voice. As the custodian of the young, it had been you that had been tasked with teaching the ways of the wolf upon the acclaim you’d earned as the devoted and kind watcher of the pups that had loved you as their second mother.

So much responsibility it had been for you, and every now and then when freedom called for you, you followed it’s beckoning song to the forest where you could stretch your limbs and feel the whistle of the wind against your fur whilst the greenery of the woodland streaked past you at the high speeds your paws brought you.

The forest all too quickly became a sanctum to you, but with each generation of pups that were brought under your care, it became harder and harder to heed the greenwood’s call. With the children constantly under your tutelage, you could scarcely have a moment of solitude. You gave everything you had to tending to those placed under your care and at the age of eleven, you became the schoolmaster, your well-versed practice in instruction and fostering the youth earning you the eyes of the compound as you became the talk of the pack.

It was not long after that many began to find their way to your old den with intent to arrange for bonding with you when you hadn’t even yet presented, but nonetheless, your parents received stacks of gifts left on your doorstep day after day as hopeful wolves attempted to get into the good graces of your family.

Per the laws that you yourself were tasked with teaching to the older pups, you could and did reject the furs the chests of jewelry that were left for you. The code had stipulated that should an omega deny another wolf’s articles of intent, they had to deliver such items back to them to affirm their sureness in their decision and make an official show of their rejection.

That regulation had almost changed because of you.

It had taken you all but one time to place the gifts he had left on the ground in front of his den before your scent had dripped like a philter from under the slot of his door and you’d only caught a glimpse of eyes darkened by delirium before your stomach had dropped to the pit of your body.

You never returned there again.

Words had not stopped him. Only your claws and your paws could in how quickly they had carried you from that place as fear plunged you into a chase that did not end until the silvery moonlight that reached for you from between the trees became golden and peeked down on you from atop the creek where your aching legs had given out, the tears falling in time with your hastened heartbeat that did not slow until hours had passed and relief coaxed away the fear.

He never reached you there. Once a month for years after, he pursued you into forest when you had a moment of respite from the pups and their parents. He’d never found you there.

And you’d never stopped to think about why.

You swallow around a dry throat and try to lick at your lips, but it’s as if your tongue is leaden in your mouth when you try, “It was you. It was you that kept him away from me,” your voice cracks as you prod, “It was always you that I felt watching me from afar when I could no longer move….it was you that I heard howling in the forest after you,” you attempt to clear your throat, “after you saved me from him.”

Your mate lowers his head until his cheek rests against yours and he rubs you back and forth there while he confirms, “Yes, my love. It’s always been me. That was the most I could do for you when you were so young,” his eyes become glassy in the pain that becomes them as he confides, “I thought that, since I was an alpha, I would only scare you off and so I could only watch from afar the first time to ensure you were alright. I went to your father shortly after because I could not stand to watch you shed tears. It broke my heart to see you so shackled by terror, my sweet girl,” he clutches you closer, his voice tinged with emotion, “I knew from the first time I saw you that you were my mate, but your father forbade me from entering any sort of relationship with you beyond serving as your nameless, faceless protector until you presented and I agreed to that because as long as I could make sure you were safe, that was enough for me.”

Warmness singes away the cold verglas that had rimed you over. It thaws like ice caps over the hills, the sun’s rays that are him bringing life back to your numbed body as you find your voice and lift your head from the folds of his blazer, one of your hands rising to lay along his cheek as your brows come together and fondness stares him back in the eyes as you say, “Jungkook, I…”

He lets you swipe your thumb along his cheekbone, his flesh hot from under your fingers and your heart swells with emotion that is like the tide in the way it flows and washes over you entirely unyielding and never ending.

You angle your head to the side and your alpha does the same as you place your other hand where his heart beats erratically in the same wild tempo as yours as you lean close and confess, “I love you, alpha. All this time, you never left my side, and now I vow I won’t ever leave yours. No matter what happens, I love you and only you.”

Your mate doesn’t cast his gaze away from you, his irises brightening until they shine like stars and your chest flutters with tenderness at that.

“I love you more than words can say, my sweet,” Jungkook hums when you dip your head to nuzzle at his mastoid with your nose, the oils along his scent glands coating you in his essence as you mark yourself on him. “Mmm, but you know that already, don’t you?”

You nod in answer, and, with his pheromones distracting you, you don’t hear the way the grasses are crushed under the approaching wolf’s feet.

“Yes, I know that, and I want to show you how much I love you,” you whisper, possession over your intended incensing you as you breathe him in and his essence clouds you to anything but him as your lips skim along the thick muscle that bulges out along his neck and when your alpha groans in satisfaction, you smile against his skin, “I wish to show how much I want you,” you close your lips over the gland, “and when you touch me, I want you and everyone else to see what you do to me."

“I’m going to do so much more than touch you when we are away from here, omega. Tell me what you want right now, my love, and it is yours,” he doesn’t bother to hide the way he bites his lip, “I will do anything you ask.”

“Kiss me again, alpha,” you let your tongue slide from your mouth, entirely oblivious to the other wolf that nears you both as you flatten it against his scent gland, the taste of blooming gardenia, black vanilla and freshly matured pear splaying seductively against your tastebuds as your tongue ascends up and down like he’d done to you when he’d eaten from your sex earlier. He shudders against you when you suckle the gland between your teeth as you utter, “Lick me like you did when you-ah…”

There’s a growl and then one hand slides down to your ass and suddenly you are sitting upright, your legs instinctively wrapping around his middle and then his lips are on yours, your arms encircling his neck and you need no prompting to part your mouth as his own tongue claims you. He runs it along the side of your mouth until it pushes against one of your cheeks and he when he shifts his weight, the hard length that cries for you under his trousers presses at your backside and you moan loudly at that, the hot length of him darting to your lips and when your tongue brushes his, he sucks it into his own mouth.

Your pre-heat fever flares fiercely in your belly, your words fueled by the need to be claimed by him as you tell him, “Take off my collar, my love, and take the offerings of my kiss and my body that I shall give entirely to you once you’ve won for me.”

Neck coverings were mandated to be worn by unmated, unpresented omegas. To be without one was to invite any alpha in the vicinity to sink their teeth into the soft skin and forever bind an omega to them whether they wanted it or not.

To ask an alpha to detach the neckband of an omega, the sole barrier between a mark and an irrevocable, irreversible bond…it was the ultimate display of consent to belong to that alpha in mind and in soul as a wolf can only bond once in their entire lifetime to a single mate.

For an omega to give permission to alpha to remove their neckband… it was a declaration of intent to mate with them. It was also a provocation to all whom the omega had denied.

By asking your alpha to withdraw your choker, you were accepting Jungkook as your lifelong counterpart and acknowledging him as your protector against those that would be tempted at the sight and scent of you that, once removed, your choker could no longer fully disperse.

A pureblood omega, the moonstone imbued in your choker was only able to mask half your scent, but once taken off, your uncovered glands would produce oils that, because of your untainted bloodline as one descended from the progenitors of your race, would make the alphas in the vicinity produce their own taint in want of you.

Your mate chuckles with your lip caught between his teeth, “You’ll make us all go feral, you little minx. Are you sure about this?”

That your alpha asks about your resolve only makes you want him more. You had heard stories of omegas far less fortunate in the compound who had not been given the chance to answer such a question.

It makes you burn all the more for him.

You press yourself close enough that your breasts push against his pectorals, one of your hands finding its place in his locks as you breathe in his musky scent, your own slick sliding down your thigh to join the dried blood he’d left there from scraping his fingernail over the bitemarks he’d put there in the forest.

You thank the gods your dress got bunched up in the flurry of earlier movements and that somehow one of his hands has managed to burrow under the fabric so that it rests against your skin. The skirt of your gown covers you from the watchful eyes around you, but that little decency can’t hide the way his palm slides down to hold the underside of your ass and when your slick drips down on his fingers, that’s when you bring your mouth behind his ear to say, “That is for you. You’ve already driven me over the edge just as you said you would,” you wriggle your hips, your core sliding against the tent in his pants and you both groan before you breathe, “now it’s time for you to lose control for your mate just like she has lost hers for you.”

When strong fingers twist into your hair and he pulls your head until it falls back, you arch your back in submission as he mutters, “Gods, you really were made for me,” his digits trail down until they clasp the metal securing your moonstone choker, “Once I take this off, I won’t be able to stop myself from falling prey to my primal urges that will be entirely your doing. I’ve done my best to keep it contained, but there will be nothing to inhibit me from you once I do,” he leans over you, one of his hands intertwining in your own in an impressive display of strength and devoted intimacy before he cautions, “I’m going to become colder and more aggressive than you’ve seen before, but believe me when I say that whatever I may do, it is all for you. We alphas become…territorial and possessive over our mates. So prepare yourself, little one.”

Your mind flashes to when he’d thrown Taehyung into a tree with so much force that it had broken in half. To when he’d spoken with a viciousness that exuded such unbreakable confidence.

Your core clenches at that. It had been hot to see him go feral over you. Because of you.

With the aphrodisiac of his pheromones that make your mind hazy to anything but him, you keep your eyes on him as you lift the fingers of your free hand and in one swift movement, the metalwork and strings attaching the furs he’d given you fall to his feet as you entreat him, “Nothing will change the fact that I am in love with you, Jeon Jungkook,” you squeeze his hand in reassurance, “Come, my alpha. Let me present to you what has always been yours and exhibit to all that question us just how besotted you are for your omega.”

He smirks, “As you wish, my lady. I accept your gracious offerings. And I will fight for the desires of us both with everything I have. And with everything that I am.”

With that, he brings your chest closer to his, his head tilting before lowering until his teeth close over the fastenings of your choker on each side of the nape of your neck. The chromium around the edges pushes into your skin as he pulls against it, and with a series of clicks, one side opens for him.

The first sliver of your flesh exposed, he licks his lips and, slowly, he ascends as you confide, “I know you will, alpha,” he descends again to the other side, his teeth latching onto the other clasp and tugging to the side.

Shockingly little was left in the tomes about what happened to one of the lupi antiquis when the alpha was exposed to the temptation of their omegean soulmate whose pheromones only activated fully in the receival of their alpha to them.

Those pages had been ripped out long, long ago.

The only leaflet that remained had foretold that the alpha’s own impulses would be released and unrestrained to the point that he would go into a frenzy of carnality over his omega and that a desperate, ferocious mania would overwhelm him were his mate to be separated or taken from him.

The moment the smooth material is dislodged from you, your scent gland expands along the side of your mastoid with the moonstone no longer constricting it and, with your pores exposed to the alpha before them, they salivate for him. Their sweet, succulent smell dances erotically under his nostrils and undulates along his tongue until the tang has his eyes rolling back as he curses, “Fuck…”

“Is it that strong?” You cock your head to the side.

He breathes in deeply, his throat cloying in the thick, heady quintessence of you that is lathered down his throat. “You,” he inhales again, his teeth pulling his lower lip under, “your musk has gotten so much stronger since the first time I smelled this neck of yours without anything covering it,” his head falls, his fangs enlarging and growing in size with his member as your essence fondles him, “I was…hardly able to get within a mile from you in the forest where I left you before the hunt. I could not resist you any longer than that and could not bring myself to stop when I took myself into my own hand for over three hours until I was too sensitive and had milked myself dry… because of you.”

You purr at the thought.

He growls.

“Please, alpha.“

His eyes narrow on your lips, “Look at that…you’re already begging for me. I’ve been training you well, little one,” dark irises tread down your own flushed chest, “I thought about this when I was running my hands down my cock earlier and wishing it was you. I pictured and played around with naughty, naughty scenarios of you reacting to me when I told you what you had done to me.”

You whine, your fingers rising up his chest and the moment you let your nails drag over the pounding gland along the side of his neck, large and long fingers encircle your wrist, his chest heaving under the pheromones of you that thrust away oxygen and fill his mind with nothing but you.

Somehow the speed and strength with which he acted upon has your legs wanting to bring him deeper between them.

“Don’t move,” your mate orders, “Don’t,” he swallows with effort, “if you do, I do not think I shall be able to keep myself here. I will chase you.”

Long ago, you would have been struck by fear at the thought, but you knew that if the wolf tailing you were that of the male in front of you, well…

That fear would be crushed under his paws until only excitement’s print was left in its wake.

Your expression cracks and he knows it when your voice softens, “You know that I would have no qualms with you running after me,” you place your lips along the freckle under his lower lip to mouth, “Because I trust you,” your tongue flattens along his chin as you lick up, “and you would never harm me unless I asked you to.”

You had oozed the aroma of sex before, but now…now you were drowning him it.

Your choker that had served its purpose in containing the concoction of your sweet spice joins his furs on the grass, his mouth parting as his incisors elongate even more from his throbbing gums in an entirely instinctual reaction as he stares hotly at your exposed neck and husks, “I can’t keep my fangs in anymore, my mate. You smell too good,” he brings a hand up until his knuckles glide along the oily flesh of the column of your throat, his digits gliding down and down until they sweep between the ‘v’ of your bodice and you don’t silence yourself from whining when his nail runs along the side of your breast that peeks from between your gown as he lowers his voice, “Good enough to eat again and again and again.” His mouth inches closer to your now bare neck, your scent gland pulsating enticingly for him as you let your free hand coast along his chest while he’s deluged in your pheromones that empty the world of anything beyond you and when he blows warm air against your jugular, you squirm only for him to croon, “You sounded so pretty with my tongue in your wet little pussy, omega…I wonder how you’d sound with my teeth right here,” a sharp fang glissades along your gland glinting sinfully in the bloodred moonlight, your core clenching as the fingers on your ass curl inward before he goes, “this is such a good spot for marking, you know. I bet you’ll moan for me when my teeth are buried here while my cock fills you to the brim. You’ll know nothing but my name when you whimper from all the pleasure only your soulmate can give you.”

A tsunami of desire has dragged him under its current and you can see in his eyes the waters of desire that eddy back and forth, your own cascading over you as he sniffs you and stutters your name. With each breath he takes, the control he’d had over himself sinks until only the smallest bit remains.

Your own control had slumbered over your instinct the first time you’d really breathed in his scent.

It had made you a pining, whining mess of slick and drool and your impulses of craving for him had been so strong that you had come all over the furs he’d given you.

“I could fuck you right here,” Jungkook’s hand slides dangerously close to where your body sobs in the absence of him, your own preheat spell hooking you into your own instincts as you close your legs tighter around his middle, “it would be so easy with how wet you are for me. Do you want me to get you off right here before I go battle for you? Is that why you won’t let me go from between your legs?”

“Alpha,” your breath hitches when his index finger teasingly delves between your sodden folds, your cheeks filling with blood as you blush, “You must…must try to-”

“What, my love? Try to control myself?” His digit lazily slews back and forth, your thighs constricting around him, “I didn’t hear you saying that when you were rutting against my leg, nor when you rode my face in the forest.” His cock twitches when you shudder at his words, “I wanted to take you so badly and the denial of you for so long hurts, little one. It hurts to just stand here while your pretty cunt sobs for me.”

“Jungkook,” you shakily reply, his finger swirls around your sex, “I know it’s hard, but you’re going to make me lose what little collar I have around my own want for you .”

You didn’t know what you’d been expecting when he took off your neckband, but you’d been so caught up in instinct that you hadn’t considered the repercussions of baring yourself for him with his purebred impulses. The urges that raged in you and your mate as purebred descendants of the lupi antiquis, the progenitors of the werewolf species, were increased a hundredfold over the mixed race of wolves sired in bloodlines that had been diluted by excessive mating between different partners in the uncontrollable ruts and heats that drove them to couple with any wolf in the vicinity under the influence purely of instinct to breed and be bred.

Your own pre-heat is beginning to cause muscle spasms of your sex that you have no control over and they are only exacerbated in the presence of your mate when he lowers your ass against his enlarged member and you bite your tongue when his length pushes against you as he says, “You shouldn’t be giving me ideas right now, little one. I’m so hard for you. Don’t you feel me? Don’t you see how badly I need you?”

You moan when the tip of his digit prods your hole and the wolves behind you gnarr at the sound.

“I feel you, my love, but the other wolves, they will chain and restrain you if they realize y-“

“Meager chains cannot contain me if you are at the end of them. No elder nor alpha stopped me from fucking you senseless before. ” His fangs drag along the flesh of your neck, your wolf bowing its head in submission and you can’t help yourself from tilting your head to the side to give him access as he eyes the gland that pounds for him, “You loved it, my beautiful mate. You wanted it and you want me still. I can smell it on you. I can feel it in the way you wet my fingers in your delicious slick that is making my mouth water and my cock cry.”

Neither of you notice the way the air itself becomes heavier as it becomes pregnant with the seed of slick and taint; your own makes every alpha of breed-able age leak with pre-ejaculate fluid and your mate’s sudden increased flow of his own that your scent all but milks him of induces the slick of all omegas that have reached maturity.

His mind is clouded by your pheromones and his eyes are hazy with lust by now as he slurs, “Let me deflower you more, omega. I know how to make you come,” he slides his index finger up into your sex to the knuckle, your eyelashes flittering as you tighten around him and a hitched breath leaves you as his other hand grips at your waist to support you when you buck against him, “You’re naughty, my love, for letting me take you with my fingers while all these people are around. Tell me, what do you think all these wolves will make of you getting off on your alpha when they stand only a few feet away?”

“Gods,” you plead in a hushed tone, “My love,” you put one hand on each side of his face so that he can look nowhere but into your eyes, your brows coming together in concern that he carefully wrap around each word as you offer, “You’re falling so deep into your urges,” you have to swallow the moan that nearly leaves you when he withdraws his finger only to thrust it inside you as you continue, “I want you, gods, I do. But you promised to fight for the desires of us both with your body,” you furtively glance upward to where, a few feet away, your grandmother and the assembly of elders stand on the edge of the stage before you peer to the side, the line of alphas and their omegas standing and drooling at the sight of you and you don’t dare glance backwards at the three alphas with matching looks of disdain on their countenances despite the engorged members that stand to attention from beneath their pants as you remind your alpha, “And you cannot very well fight for me if your fingers are inside of me.”

“I’ve always excelled at doing multiple things at once,” his finger curls in a come hither motion and then he’s grinning as he stares at the whites of your eyes, the pupils disappearing beneath your lidded lashes, “I let you suck me off like a good little omega and I made you come all over my foot that I watched you rut on,” his digit is propelled into you once more, a whimper loosing itself from your lips as his eyes narrow, “that you cannot even go more than a few moments without me only proves that I managed to not only seduce you, but addict you to me,” his eyes grow darker when you clench around him in answer and then another finger is being slid inside you as he says, “You cannot even deny it, for your body will only betray you if you do.”

And he’s right, you can’t. To deny that would be to lie, and you could not lie to your alpha.

You bury your face in his neck, the tip of your ears red as a cherry.

“I cannot help that, alpha,” you gasp when he curves both digits against your silken walls as you admit, “The moon above knows that I tried.”

“And try as I have to curb my cravings for you, omega,” he draws out his digits only to impel them back inside you, your slick glazing him in your quintessence, “I need to taste your sweet juices again,” you mewl when his hand moves smoothly down until the fingers of his other hand wrap around your thigh and he squeezes at the same time that his fingers churn your insides, “and you must let me make you cum once more, beautiful mate of mine. The urge to fuck will not leave me until I have thoroughly satisfied my omega.”

“Here?” You bite at his blazer, the thick material masking your wanton sound, “Now? Is there,” you can’t stop your fingers from knotting into his shirt when another of his digits finds its place along the engorged bud planted between your legs and then your mouth is parting, “Is there no other way to quell your urges, my love?”

“None that will leave you clothed or quiet.”

His words leave your taint spilling over him and his pupils dilate until the black of them swallows the color from them, his fingers arcing within you whilst his thumb circles your clit and you’re too far gone to notice the sound of fabric tearing as your teeth shred the ashen cloth between them.

“You just had…we just-“

“It’s not enough, my love. I will never get enough of you,” his digits recede and before you can whimper, you’re being filled with not two, but three fingers that are slid slowly into you as he utters, “It matters not that I had you in the forest. The wolf in me is famished for only you,” his hand leaves your thigh and his red-streaked fingers that he’d rubbed along the bitemarks down there are slow to take your chin between them, his blown pupils catching on the black fabric of his blazer nestled between your lips and that sight has him twitch below you before he’s husking, “And if you want me to return to some semblance of sanity, hard as that is when you look, taste and smell so delectable,” he tilts your head back and you, heady with need for him, let him as his long tongue reaches for you and when it writhes against your bare neck, that��s when you keen as he tells you, “you’ll just have to fuck that into me.”

Even in the haze of lust that has taken him over, you see the creature you have fallen in love with. And you could no sooner deny him of you than the moon could reject the embrace of the night sky she coupled with every night.

“Do you need your omega, Pack Alpha?” You breathe.

“Fuck, yes, my mate. Need you so much. Give me permission to have my way with you before I start rutting into the nearest tree with your ruined panties in my mouth.”

Your walls close around his fingers that pump in and out of you at that.

He had not hesitated to take care of you when you’d become lost to your desires because of him. You had made him wait long enough. It was time you returned the favor.

Even if that meant that all eyes were attached to the both of you. As long as your alpha was sated, that was all that mattered to you.

You open your mouth, the thin scrap of fabric falling from your lips as you entreat, “Come, alpha, and indulge in your mate. Feed off me now and after, I shall let you feast on me to your heart’s content.”

“Gods, so you’re so good to me, my love,” he propels his digits inside of you and bends them at the same time his thumb swirls around the cluster of nerves arranged at the apex between your thighs, “So fucking good for me.”

You close your eyes as his tongue dips down between your collarbones and flicks against the sensitive skin there while he holds your chin between the fingers of his other hand.

“Look at me, little one. I want to see you while I please you,” he breathes before he nicks your tender skin with his fang, his tongue quick to fondle the wound as a small, sharp slice of pain has your eyelids fluttering open in silent submission.

Strangely, that sensation is pleasurable to you, but you don’t have time to think much on it before he’s plunging a fourth finger within you and that has your eyelids open as you make a sound of sheer desperation for him, your sight attracted immediately to his and it’s clear that he’s just as gone for you as you are for him with one of his pupils glazed over and swollen with lust while the other is bulbously clear with love for you.

“You’re swallowing my fingers whole right now, my omega,” he “You take four fingers so well for me… I could put my cock into you right now with how ready you are for me, little one,” he groans when your walls constrict around him, his tongue laving at the other side of your neck until you’re drenched in him as he arches a brow, “Aroused, aren’t you?” he pushes every finger knuckle-deep, your back bowing inward as you claw at his shirt while he rubs at your clit as he teases, “Does it get you going when you think about me shoving my knot into you over and over again until all you know is your alpha and how good it will feel to be pounded by me?”

“Yes, alpha, please-“

“That’s right, omega, beg,” he stares hotly at you, his fingers easily stretching you open and hitting the clump of nerves deep within you as you clamp your legs around him whilst he thrusts his digits inside you faster and faster each time before he says, “You make your alpha even hungrier for you when you plead for him.”

“Please, Jungkook. I thought I could last longer for you, but,” You swallow around a scratchy throat from all the noises you’ve been making, your thighs beginning to shake with how tightly you press him between them, “I’m close already with how you use me,” you confess, “with how you screw me.”

There is no filter to halt your vulgarity now. It has since dissipated with your oncoming heat that you can feel slipping into you with each impetus of your mate’s wonderfully long, perfect fingers.

“Damn it all, omega,” He curses, his pace quickening as he sucks harshly on the spot nestled between your neck and shoulder until a reddened petal blossoms there, “Your heat is upon you, isn’t it? Is that why you are falling apart for me so soon?”

“Ngh,” you attempt to find words, but he is relentless in the continual sheathing of his fingers into you. “y-yes. A-almost there, Jungkook. I’m almost there.”

“You look so irresistible while you’re getting fucked,” he tells you while he drives his digits into you, “and when that heat of yours demands you to be spread those legs and take your alpha’s knot, I’ll ravish you until you are a drooling, moaning mess on the bed I have lain with no other in,” he laps at the veins protruding along the other side of your neck and doesn’t stop until he’s laving it along the shell of your ear, “Now say my name, omega. Call it out for all to hear so that no one may question your need of me. After you do, I’ll make everyone watch me drink up your delicious nectar. And I,” he extracts all four digits only to insert them all in one fluid motion, the tip of each finger hitting your g-spot and your nails puncture the shirt of his that has been knotted in your palm as he growls into your ear, “I shall relish every single drop that pours forth for me from that pretty pussy of yours.”

Your core is instantly set aflame in the ire of desire at that.

“Alpha,” you cry out as you both swim in the sea of temptation, “Please, give me my release.”

“Louder, my love,” he brings his mouth forth until it hovers near your own, his eyes roving down and then back as his pace intensifies, a grunt releasing itself from him when you contract your walls around him, “Give me more and more of you.” Thoughts elude you in favor of the fingers that intrude you, your mouth falling open in an ‘o’ when his thumb pushes and whorls itself over the bundle of nerves that flower your sex as he pummels you with his fingers, “Give me everything.”

And honestly, how could you refuse him?

“Jungkook,” his name reaches wantonly for the ears of all wolves in the valley as you whimper it out, and no sooner have you heeded him than he plunges all four digits within you, his thumb fatally pressing down as he gyrates it along your clit.

It takes only his tongue to make you fall apart after that.

“I believe it’s just about time to feed your alpha again, omega,” his tongue dances along the edge of your lips before twisting into your mouth as he collects your saliva and he hums in satisfaction, “Mmm, good as that was, I want you to feed me more, my love. I want your juices to join your spit in my mouth,” he shoves his fingers into you once, twice, and then he pulls you down over the member that wails for you just as you do for him and then he orders, “Finish for me, omega, and let me have another taste of you.”

Your sex spasms around his digits on his command and your slick slides down his hand as he glides his digits in and out of you to help you ride your orgasm as he coasts his lips over your own to drink in your sounds of pleasure.

When he detaches from you, he heaves with the air he’d stolen from you, “Good girl.”

You hardly can respond beyond blushing.

Your alpha withdraws his soddened hand from between your legs and, to support you, he plants his other along your ass before bringing his soiled palm to his lips and laying his tongue along the base of where his hand meets his wrist before it is dragged upward toward his fingers, your thick essence collecting on his tongue, You watch, entranced by the way he closes his eyes to savor your flavor as he groans, “Fuck, I could get drunk off of this. So tangy and sweet,” he pops his index finger in his mouth, “and,” he’s sticking his middle finger in next, “all,” his ring finger disappears between his lips, “for,” his pinky is the last to be dipped within his mouth, “me.”

You lick your lips in answer.

He smiles smugly, his usual mischievousness returning to fleck an iris as familiar playfulness rings around his other pupil before he offers,” Can you stand? I do believe that people will begin to think some rather obscene things if I hold you like this for much longer.”

You laugh and tell him yes and he lowers you gingerly to the ground, but it’s too much to be that far from him, so you take a step into him, but your thighs seem to have other plans as numbness greys your movement and you stumble.

To anyone else, it looks like your alpha simply closed what little distance was between you, each of his hands gripping the underside of your forearm as a knowing look passes over his features before he’s cocking his head, “Still tripping all over yourself for me, huh? How precious,” he simpers, “I’ll make sure you know the many other ways I can bring you to your knees for me, pretty girl.”

You cheeks burn hotter at that. Someone clears their throat and then-

“Well, that was quite the display, Pack Alpha,” the tawny furred wolf drags out the name in obvious disdain whilst he shifts, his furs stripping themselves away from him as he rises on his hind legs until his skin is tanned as the desert sands and eyes brown like tree bark glare at him from behind your back as he speaks, “And here I was thinking that I’d made a grand enough entrance to distract you enough that you wouldn’t even think about doing to her what you just did.”

To everyone else, it had simply looked as if your alpha had been holding you tenderly. Your increased production of pheromones could easily be explained by the loss of your neckband and your alpha had been safe to act the way he had with you given he could use such an easy explanation to answer to such questionings since it was forbidden for an unmated alpha to touch an omega.

It seemed, however, that you could not fool him, the wolf that had chased you into the forest and wracked you with fear while your mate had stood guard over you then as he does now.

“And what did I do, Min Yoongi? As far as I can tell,” golden eyes sear into brown ones whilst he challenges, “It is only natural that my omega produces the taint of longing for her alpha. I have done no wrong and you would be wise to avoid accusations.”

“Oh, but you have, Jeon Jungkook. I know what you’ve done with her. I saw you in the forest,” he jerks his chin to the side to the two wolves that leer lecherously at you, though you do not see them, “Taehyung has never been very good at keeping his mouth shut, you see.”

The same fear that had frozen you in place before begins to turn your blood cold and your mate gently lets you down, his free hand ushering you behind his back as a low, dangerous growl reverberates through the air. “Is that a threat, Min Yoongi? Be careful about what your next words are. They may be your last.”

Yoongi laughs mirthlessly, “Of course it is a threat, Pack Alpha, “ he spits the words with disgust, “Word carries fast among us alphas. Surely you know this, or have you been too busy between her legs to notice?”

Before the elders can question anything, your grandmother intervenes as the whispers spread like wildfire among the wolves.

“Pack Alpha Jungkook has already been chosen by Omega Y/N, Min Yoongi. Whatever claim to her you attempt to make, you may only do so now by challenging the alpha she has selected to be her intended,” she holds her head high when she proclaims, “Per our code, there is but one exception where an alpha may touch an unmated omega prior to mating, but only if the gods have bestowed on them a divine bond that could no sooner keep them apart than the stars from the moon in the night sky.” She does not pause when the other male wrinkles his nose while she asserts, “Should you wish to challenge your Pack Alpha, you go against the judgement of the gods as the two wolves beside you have chosen to do.”

She’s hardly finished and already the male before you is speaking, “I challenge he who has been chosen by the omega and all that challenge him,” Yoongi gives an unimpressed look to your alpha as Jungkook glowers, a deep rumbling sounding from his throat in warning as the male goes on, “I offer all the gifts I have left on her doorstep for the past ten years that have been returned to me,” the tawny-haired wolf makes to step forward toward you, but your mate’s back hunches over in warning, his claws retracting from the skin between his fingers as danger flashes in his eyes while Yoongi picks an invisible fleck of dust off his shoulder.

Uneasiness has you trembling behind your mate, but you are not left to dwell on it for long. Your mate slides one arm behind his back to offer you his hand, tuned to you as ever with the melody of your breathing becoming irregular and hastened in the emotion that clogs your lungs.

You take it without a second thought, your fingers twining around his as he puts his other arm out in a protective stance over you before he furtively glances back to check on you. “It’s alright, love. I’ve got you.”

“I used to wonder about something,” the other male starts and Jungkook waits to avert his concerned gaze away from you until you’ve nodded with a fondness that saturates your eyes that is suffocating for the other male to watch as he sighs, “the jewelry, dresses, trinkets and baubles that I used to leave for her,” Yoongi pauses, the dots connecting when Jungkook’s lips rise, his expression hardening as he bares his teeth, “they always used to reek of something absolutely putrid. Would you happen to have something to do with that, Pack Alpha?”

“As a matter of fact, I did, Min Yoongi,” Jungkook taunts, “It was an absolute pleasure to leave traces of my scent all over everything I was tasked by her very father to bring back to you so that you would think not of her, but of the dangerous creature you’d unleash if you thought of trying anything with she who would become my mate.” Yoongi barks in annoyance and Jungkook doesn’t even flinch, “After all, her father did leave it to me to guard her after your first and failed pursuit of her,” your mate’s fingers squeeze your own and then he provokes the other male with the flick of a brow, “You didn’t think I hunted you down in the forest and left you a mess of tattered fur, broken claws and chipped teeth every month after she first bled was all just for sport, now did you?”

Fire rages in the other male’s expression and he seethes, “You’re going to lose not only your rank, but your bitch, Pack Alpha,” the male leches you, a maniacal look contorting his features and your gut twists uncomfortably when he decides, “and when you’re bleeding out on the ground out here by yourself, I’ll make sure I make her scream so loud that you’ll hear her,” he protracts his claws, your mate’s eyes narrowing as he threatens, “I’ll ensure you never forget how she sounds when a real alpha takes what is his and pumps seed into her until she’s full of his pups.”

Your mate’s lips part to bare his teeth and were your legs not trembling both out of fear and weakness your mate had wracked on them, you’d have already ripped the other male’s tongue out.

“It seems you do not know what it is to be an alpha, then, boy. A true alpha respects and dotes on his mate. You would make her your broodmare, which I cannot allow,” he turns his back to the alpha and his attention to you, “I would worship her as my goddess…and as my queen. Try and insult me all you wish,” Jungkook’s expression folds when you lean down, your lips finding the skin along his pectoral that is no longer covered with the way your nails had ripped it and he’s gentle when his knuckles brush along the side of your cheek as you do and when his visage falls back on the male, it hardens as he forewarns, “but I will rip you to shreds should you so much as look at her in a way I do not condone. You will find I am not merciful to those who do not revere her like the deity she is.”

“Your cock has made you soft, Jeon,” Yoongi crosses his arms, “perhaps that shall be the first thing I’ll claw off of you. I’ll make sure to stare your beloved in her eyes while I do it, too. Then she’ll have nothing to suck or fuck anymore.”

Your alpha bristles, fury scorching him with the intensity of one hundred fires as spins on his heel, his hand leaving yours as he snarls, “Disrespect my mate again and I’ll break every bone in your body for every word that I do not like,” he rounds on the smaller wolf, “She’s not something to be filled. She’s a living, breathing being and you will not speak of her in such a demeaning way lest you wish to face my wrath. Do you understand me?”

The other male doesn’t get to say anything else, for another voice interrupts him before he can.

“Pack Alpha Jungkook,” the gnarled voice of your grandmother shouts, “You have been chosen by Omega Y/N out of the three other wolves proclaiming intent to mate her. Before battle rights are given to you, you are entitled to partake in the Smearing. None of the other combatants may speak, act or do anything during it, but should you lose in the throes of combat,” she is not phased when there’s a deep growl from your mate and continues, “These marks shall be removed so that the winning alpha may give her more permanent marks as he sees fit.” Her visage flicks to the three other wolves that have made their place behind you, “Pack Alpha Jungkook, do you wish to assert your favor and your promise to her and receive hers of you?”

A common practice decades ago that had died out in the recent years, Smearing was only performed by wolves that were fated as soulmates and had not survived with the near extinction of the lupi antiquis.

In the days that the lupi antiquis roamed the earth in great population, two wolves completely taken by each other stained themselves in the blood of the other that, when the bond between them was tried and true, the gods of the moon blessed their joining together and the designs the two enraptured wolves had painted on each other marked the flesh of their human forms so that they would always be able to recognize each other- wolf or no.

As blood inevitably would draw the attention of predators and prey alike, it became the alpha’s duty to protect his mate while he carried the trace of a young, nubile omega with him. Until the omega was ready to mate, they bore the paint of their alpha’s blood and once the omega was ready, the alpha solidified the bond and gave his omega the bite of bonding that can only be given by an alpha once in his lifetime and received by an omega once in their lifetime.

While the omega carried the blood of their alpha on them, they were faced with the temptations by witches, sirens and faeries, for the alpha’s scent was indeed a fine enough lure for them in their conniving attempts to manipulate and seize the omega’s heart only to turn it black with malice so that they could eat away at the pain both of she and the mate who loved her until death did them part.

The tradition has not been performed for many a decade and the elders passively glance your direction in wait of your alpha’s answer.

“Alpha,” you beckon him and a breath hasn’t left you before he’s upon you, both hands possessively splaying on your hips as you whisper, “I want it,” you look up at him with pleading eyes, “And I want you to be the one to give it to me.”

“I would have no one else painted in designs left by my own hand, my mate, but…”

Anger has made his eyes dusky, but with a few words from you, that is dispelled completely.

“You are enraged by him, I know,” you reassure, “but think of how furious it will make him to watch you leave your trace on me when there’s nothing he can do to stop it.”

“Vindicative, aren’t you, you little vixen?”

“Only because of you. I can feel your emotions just as much as you can sense mine and you are being very loud with yours right now,” you giggle.

Your laughter is the beacon in the dark that guides him out of his own fury and he lowers his lips to the bridge of your nose to kiss you there before considering, “I do apologize for such unscrupulous behavior, my beloved. How unseemly I become for you.”

“Do not apologize, alpha. On the contrary,” you turn your face so that his mouth falls upon the apple of your red cheek, “I find it quite attractive that you get aggressive over me.”

“Pack Alpha Jungkook,” The elders voice in unison, “We await your decision on if you wish to commence with the Smearing of your intended mate. We cannot proceed without it.”

His dark hair has become tousled and you can’t help but to run your fingers through the thickened strands before sweeping to the side the tendrils of it that had fallen in front of his beautiful eyes.

Honesty clears his irises and when he speaks, his words are as sincere as the summer song that your kind sings to summon the summer rains.

“Without question, the answer is yes. It always has been,” he declares, his fingertips stroking their way down your right arm until he’s weaved his digits around yours, “She is beautiful as a rose and sharp as a dagger,” his hand detaches from your left arm and you watch with baited breath as he brings the base of his thumb to his fangs that had receded slightly so that they only protrude from under his top lip, a grimace shifting his countenance as his teeth easily puncture the flesh there to voice, “it is only she who has the power to tame me,” he turns his palm to the other side, the edge of fangs curving over the skin there, “and only she who holds my heart,” he closes his mouth over the self-inflicted wound only to lift it off, his lips painted red with his own blood as opens his palm and sinks his teeth down into the middle of it. His teeth break the skin there, blood gushing from under his lips before he rises to his full height as he says, “for her I would cross the seas, the sky, and the earth if they would bring me to her,” his fingers curl inward and with a fist over his heart, and it’s as if small rubies trickle down his appendage onto the freshly dewed blades of grass as he vows, “This mark is temporary, but I give it with the founded faith that she is my anima salit, that she is my destined love, and I shall protect she whom I will worship like a goddess and treat as my queen.”

The edges of your eyes warm with tears, and the seedlings of emotion you’d been growing for him blossom all through your chest as the elders, all at once, ask you, “Omega Y/N, do you accept the pact this alpha makes through his own blood? Do you, in turn, consent to the Smearing that will endanger you to alphas in the pack and beyond in addition to the creatures that preyed on our ancestors all for the sake of dedicating your very being to him and presenting yourself as the one true mate of Pack Alpha Jungkook?”

Like your intended, you leave not even a shadow of a doubt in your decision. Perhaps you’d known from the moment you’d caught his comforting scent that relaxed your tired muscles before being coaxed into a pleasant slumber when the breeze had carried it his essence to you in the forest years ago even before you’d begun to dream of the wolf with fur black as night.

“I consent to it all in the trust I have in my alpha to defend the desires we both have for each other,” you speak aloud, your words unwavering in the earnestness that fills them as your own hand is lifted to your mouth and you bite down on the tip of your thumb using your shorter, pointier canines that can elongate into fangs on command. You bite hard enough to draw blood before moving to the next finger, your attention affixed to no one but your alpha as you confess, “he is my light,” your index is next to be brought under your maw, “he is the savior that has finally brought himself through to my sights,” you bring your next digit between your teeth wince for the third time before saying, “and it is he who is my solace day and night,” you prick your ring finger as you go on, “for it is only he who can make me run wild,” your teeth penetrate your last digit before you open your palm and penetrate the malleable flesh until two large crescents run red along the outer corners of each side as you say, “and it is for him that I would cross the stars to be with.”

Your mate kneels on one knee as if to accept your vocalizations and something akin to wings flutter through your chest at that.

I may have been playing around with you earlier about going to your knees for me, sweetling, but make no mistake that I will kneel for no one but my woman.

You can’t help the rising of the edges of your lips at that.

Your mouth, like your alpha’s, is stained with the paint of your lifeblood as you cross your now injured arm over your chest, your marred hand turned sideways over your breast where your heart beats to the same sprightly speed as your alpha’s.

He extends his arm out, his fingers opening in offering to you. A river of red has trailed across his outstretched palm and the sudden urge to lick him clean roots itself in you, your omegean instinct to tend to your alpha burrowing into your psyche.

Your mate senses the shift in your thoughts and a playful, bounding sensation is quick to leap from him to you across the invisible cords of your bond that tie tighter together with each passing minute that you spend in each other’s company.

You can lick me all you wish, omega, but wait a little longer for me. Much as I adore your mouth, there is something you’re going to do for me first, aren’t you?

Somehow your lower lip finds itself spread under your teeth at that one.

You lower your chin to him while his eyes beseech you, your own legs bending until you too are on your knees in front of him and you sit back on your heels in a gesture of deference as you repeat what he had.

“This mark is temporary, but I give it with the founded faith that he is my anima salit, that he is my destined love,” you hold out your bloodied palm up to him, the rivulets of crimson along each finger drifting down along the banks of blood pooling in the middle as you say, “and I vow that shall remain by my alpha’s side for as long as he will have me, for I shall revere him like a deity and attend to him as my king.”

With your alpha’s attention latched onto to you, you slide your fingers along his and, responsive as always, he soon furls his digits inward so that your palm is lain against the backs of his fingers while the other side covets your own like a long lost treasure.

Your heart pounds as he brings your blood-laden hand towards his mouth, his lips pressing against the flesh along the back of your hand.

“A king does not serve one, but is served by many,” his stained lips part for you, “and I shall attend you forever and always, for I am but your servant, my lady,” the pink of his tongue supplies its warmth and wetness along the reddened web of flesh between your thumb and index where your blood had dripped before he trailing further downward, your breath catching whilst he accumulates your essence on his tongue that had run all the way down your wrist before he swallows, “my love.”

He unfurls his fingers just enough for your blood to drizzle between his digits and merge with his own so that your essences can come together as one while his own quintessence flows along the open wounds you’d left on each of your fingers that is lain against the flesh of his palm.

As his blood joins yours and yours does with his, you can feel the crackling of something kindling beneath your flesh and when Jungkook opens his hand, it’s as if that which pulses through your veins stops at the thought of his touch receding.

Panic surges and so strong is it that your mate is all but swept forth in its tow before his free hand is anchoring itself to your thigh and eyes awash in care for you sink that emotion away as he promises, “I am not going anywhere, my mate,” his thumb sweeps itself along your knuckles, “But I want to paint you in marks that are as beautiful as you are. I have to release you to do that with this hand, but this one,” he compresses his fingers along your leg, the soft ache of the bitemark he’d left there assuaged in his touch as he tells you, “this one you can keep on you if it so pleases you.”

You nod your head in affirmation, “It does please me. You please me.”

“When did you become so vocal about such things?”

You shrug, “Maybe I have an alpha that demands that of me.”

“And demand it of you I shall continue to do,” he flips your joined hands over and guides the back of yours to the bed grass of beneath before his fingers depart from yours and he watches with interest the way your digits follow him as he utters, “I like knowing how satisfied I make you.”

“You always satisfy me,” you answer in earnest.

“Would it satisfy you to sit on the ground or on a pedestal where you belong while I paint you?”

Your body moves of its own accord when he pats his leg in invitation you don’t think twice before you’re seated atop him with each of your knees facing inward towards him while he remains knelt on the floor in front of you.

“Close your eyes for me, pretty girl. I want you to feel what I do to you before I let you see it,” he instructs.

You cock your head to the side, but do as he says because he is your alpha do not wish to displease him.

“I wish you could look upon yourself and view what I do, my love.” The pad of his thumb is dipped in the river of red along his palm before he daubs it along your inner eye and traces the skin around it before applying another wet application there and then he’s doing the same to your other eye as he confesses, “You really are the most beautiful creature the gods could have created.”

You preen at that.

You can’t see the way he takes his unmarred hand and uses the brush of his clean fingers to swirl the crimson paint along the palette of his other, his middle finger gentle as a dove’s tail as he draws a curving line from your cheekbone to the edge of your jawline, “You grew into you these,” he begins to paint down your cheekbone once again, “I remember you used to be self-conscious about them after the older omegas belittled you about them.” He adds another coat of crimson with a newly wetted digit that curves in the opposite direction he’d gone previously as he admits, “It took so much restraint to stay hidden under the cover of the trees when you went to that backroom of the schoolhouse with that little window that the sun could barely reach through. You huddled in that dark corner with your arms covering that pretty face of yours and how I longed to wipe those tears away and tell you how perfect you were.” A long finger completes the filigree of blood on the left edge of your cheek meant to appear as twisting vines as he lets you know, “Somedays I caved and got a little closer than your father would have liked, but I doubt he knew you were being mistreated by the females for having such different qualities about you that you made so wonderfully different.”

That treatment had lasted for only a week before the females that used to laugh at you silenced themselves in your presence, none of them daring to speak a harsh word of you in your vicinity or even out of it.

It had never occurred to you to wonder why, but you have an idea of who was likely behind the sudden change in their behavior.

“What did you do to them?” You question.

Your alpha’s ministrations pause for a moment and you wait patiently for his answer before he simply puts it, “Nothing they did not deserve. You’d be surprised how very persuasive I can be.”

“Oh,” you affectionately raise your free hand to entwine around a lock of his hair and though you do not have your sight to guide you, you easily find the dark strands to play with them as you say, “I know very well how you can be.”

Your alpha soon streaks his middle finger along the other side of your face in a motion mirroring what he’d just done seconds before.

“Needless to say that you were,” his digit finishes its descent before he’s soaking his ring and index fingers in his blood to supply, “You are the prettiest of them all,” one finger swirls while the other twirls around it just under your hairline, “and you always will be.” He follows the natural shape around your forehead all the way to your temples as he illustrates a braided pattern along your flesh before he finishes, “To me.”

His hand returns to the other debased in the deluge of blood that he holds out, his pointer finger dabbing into the sea of it coasting his palm before the miry texture of his essence is being spread horizontally in a spiral starting along the bone at the edge of your jaw and ending with his digit turning so that the soft pad of his finger strokes the corner of your mouth.

You nearly purr at the action.

“Surely I do not deserve such praise, alpha,” you start, but then he’s chuckling and you don’t need your sight to know that his irises brighten at your words.

“Ah, but you do, omega,” he finishes for you while the opposite side of your jawline is swept in the paint of his blood in the same pattern. “You deny that you are an exquisite creature,” his finger flows toward your mouth once again, “but allure becomes you well, my love,” his crimson colored digit glides along your lower lip to rouge it in red before it dips with his voice, “and I will make certain that you accept that just as you accept my cock, tongue and fingers within your body.”

You cross your thighs over each other and then they’re rubbing against each other in a response far beyond your fading control.

“Don’t do that,” your alpha commands, “Or I’ll push you down to your knees and have you take me between these,” his finger slots itself between your lips, “pretty little things of yours.”

You whine when his finger slips down the middle of your chin, his sight stuck on the way a drop of your saliva dribbles in descent with his digit as it drifts like a red stream along the bend of your throat.

A ripple travels down your spine as two fingers are swept, freshly dewed in the puddle of his blood, along either side of your neck from the tender underside of your chin all the way down to the sensitive notch between your collarbones in winding markings and when you release a shaky breath, he breathes it in.

“This neck of yours…it is so perfect for marking. You’ve done such a good job keeping it untouched and untainted for me, but I know it will look even lovelier with my fangs ingrained here,” he leans in and when something hot rolls around the blood cooling on your skin, you shudder as his tongue taints you. “And it is here that I will have you branded by the shades of purple, pink and red in the collar I shall leave on you with my mouth every morning, evening and night so that everyone knows you are mine.”

“Alpha,” you plead, “Let me look upon you.”

His tongue oscillates to and fro against your flesh before:

“No. I’m not done with you yet. You may look when I say you can. I want to admire you while I paint you. Now, obey me and sit atop of me until I’m finished.”

It’s as if your very blood responds to his order, for your body stills, your unbitten hand that had been playing in his hair untangling from the strands that you’d been carding it through to rest it on your lap.

You don’t see it, but he smirks as he pulls away and watches your own hand twitch in the loss of him.

His own fingers are gone for a moment, but it feels like an eternity before they are on you again. This time, his index and middle finger are joined side by side when they are laid along the bed of your flesh between your collarbones as he asks, “You want to touch me, don’t you?”

“So badly. Please let me,” you beg whilst his slippery, sticky digits descend down the exposed ‘v’ of your chest that your gown bears to him as he smears crimson along your flushed flesh.

He laughs deeply, and familiar heat stirs below your abdomen as the sound lowers with his fingers as the both of them veer around the side of your breast that peeks out from your bodice, his sharp nails grazing the underside of your mound before ascending back the way they came.

“Good, good… keep begging. Just like that, little one.”

You gasp and air isn’t necessary when his hand disappears under the bodice of your dress and, all at once, all five digits close around your tit, the thick fluid of his essence spread all over you as he utters, “I love everything about you, omega, but these breasts of yours,” he squeezes your mound and you squirm, “these are so fucking sexy. They fit perfectly in my hands like they were made just for me,” his other palm delves under the thin material that covers your chest and it, too, has been smeared in his blood as he palms at your other breast, your flesh pebbling under his touch as he says, “they are so round and firm. I can’t wait to take them into my mouth, to use them as a cocksleeve,” his fingers constrict around you and he groans when your hips buck against him, “And when you are ready to give me children,” each of his thumbs circles each of your nipples, your back arching at the action and your mate’s eyes scintillate darkly, “I shall enjoy lapping at these when they grow full of delicious milk that you’ll make because I got you pregnant. These beautiful breasts of yours are going to be so sore from how much I will suckle all the milk you have from them, little one.”

Your sex contracts around nothing and you cry out yet again.

“Jungkook,” you throw your head back when his nail pushes into your areola,” I c-can’t take much m-“

“You know,” his hands mercifully fall away from your tits, but not before he leaves a trail of blood and faint claw marks along your breasts, “And I know that you can take more because you were designed for me. You just need to get used to me, to this. And I plan on doing this,” His palms slew toward your sex even when they are still tucked under your gown and they don’t halt their descent as he utters, “On doing you very, very often.” His wrists knock against each other along the base of your loosely-fitting bodice in the slanted, angled course they’d made along your body.

“I’m, hah…” you are silenced when each thumb is crossed over the other to slather your exposed navel in his blood before each ascend where one retraces the curving, arcing designs he’s drawn along the left side of your upper half while his other hand adds its mate to the right part of your chest he’d left bare, your flesh prickling in his wake. “I am still sensitive, alpha.”

“You shall learn to like it, little one. Hedonism, you will find, makes you quite the insatiable little creature,” he flexes the thick muscle of his leg beneath you and you press your legs together, your sex contracting yet again around nothing as his hands part from you only for him to souse each of his fingertips in the blood pouring forth from the puckered flesh of his palm.

Five fingertips, each arranged in the shape of a paw, are pressed into the underpart of your wrists. “You are not used to being touched,” his digits don’t diverge from you, but instead converge closer together as he presses them to the underside of your elbow, “You are not used to being pleasured,” his fingers spread open as they slink upward along your shoulder, his lips claiming the tender spot behind your ear and suckling there as he mouths, “you are not familiar with being mounted and taken,” you moan at the thought and then a hot, wet tongue is on you as he sucks your flesh between his teeth until it is blushing in pink and purple, your cheeks turning fuchsia as he mutters, “but you will feel my body against yours so often,” his bitten, bloodied hand covers your ankle in a circlet of blood as he grabs it and in one quick movement, throws it around his waist, “and be brought to such satisfaction that you will not even be able to fathom what it was like to have gone without for so long.”

“Gods,” you whisper as he gently gnaws at your skin.

“Again you have said that name,” he clucks his tongue, “I believe I have already told you that the gods will not answer to you,” his ministrations halt and you whine when his mouth abandons you.

Dominance darkens his words, “You should not call for them, for they will not come for you. I will. Say it. Say my name.”

Your wolf lowers its head in submission.

“Jungkook,” you comply, “Alpha.”

“That’s correct,” His eyes follow his fingers when he reaches behind his back to slowly push your skirts up with one hand while one freshly wetted finger is pulled upward along your shin. “Only I can answer to your pleas and prayers now.”

He strokes your shinbone all the way up before veering sideways in a downward and arced motion along the left side of your shin and then the right with the brush that is his digit until he gets to your knee and traces the outside of it in crimson, a shudder shaking you when his hand is lost to the layers of fabric and then three digits wander astray along the soiled skin of your thigh.

Your alpha groans, “The gods cannot do this to you,” his crimson covered fingers glide easily along the slick that has entirely coated your flesh, “No other mortal man could do this to you.” His digits curve and curl upward as he draws nearer to where he’d had them minutes ago and you really can’t help yourself when you dig the heel of your foot against his back. “But I can.”

Your slick clings to his fingers until the tips of them are clad in your essence and when he drags them along the lips of your sex, you sigh shakily, “There, alpha, there-“

“Demanding, aren’t you?” He questions, his digits winding around your womanhood once, twice and then he streaks them over and across the flesh of your other thigh, your skirts hiding the lewd action for all but him as his tone darkens, “How does it feel to have my spit and blood right here, but not my cum?”

Your cheeks go aflame in the same heat that smolders your sex and you start to shift your position so you can bury your head in his neck, but you don’t make it far.

His hand is swift in grabbing at the hair along the back of your head and then pulling it, your back bending for him as he chides, “Ah, ah, ah, little one. You’ll ruin your pretty marks that I put on you. Once they dry, you may move.”

You whimper yet again.

Jungkook gives a wolfish grin, his fingers swathing your thigh in his blood in three downward slashes before his digits make their rounds around your knee. As he’d done with your other, his ministrations don’t stop until your shin is lined in red.

When his fingers desert you once more, his voice is there to embrace you.

“I’m almost done with you, omega.” One callused, bloodied finger is pressed into the notch along the base of your spine your open-backed gown has left bare for him. It is slow in its descent as it is dragged along each of your vertebrae as he says, “There is no part of you now that I have not touched or seen. What say you to that?”

“I’ve loved every second of it, but right now, I want your permission, alpha,” you suspire, his digit swaying once it reaches the tip of your spine in a spiraling motion that spans the entirety of the left side of your back.

“Permission for what?” He smirks knowingly.

His finger continues its dance along your back before it follows the bloodied path from which it came.

“Permission to look at you. To touch you.”

His finger doesn’t still as the same sensation is left upon you on the other side of your back as he asks, “What do you plan to do once I give you permission, omega?”

You lick at your lips.

“I suppose that is answer enough, but remember,” he’s careful not to mar you in any more blood when he takes your chin between his fingers to breathe, “You will tell me what you want with your words, omega.”

Your fingers find the lapels of his blazer and you urge it open even though your eyes are still closed, your preheat spell singing away your usual shyness as your entire being burns for him and you hardly even recognize your own voice when you tell him, “I should like to tear the rest of this shirt of yours off, alpha.”

His digits fall away from you and then the scent of iron is pungent in your nostrils as he brings his soiled hand inches from your lips as he orders, “Lick me, omega, and close these wounds of mine. Show me how good you are at obeying me and I will allow you to do what you wish.”

You stick your tongue out and your alpha growls when you flatten it against the palm of his hand and leave it there, your omegean saliva coating his wounds and closing them instantly.

“So compliant you are for me,” he praises as you let your tongue lift until it wraps around the longest of his fingers, “And so fucking tempting.” He pulls his hand from you, but even your saliva strings itself around his finger as if unwilling to let go as he commands, “Open your eyes, omega, and do what you will to me. You have earned it.”

Golden irises are the first to find you when your body, entirely without thought, responds to him.

The leg of yours that he’s wound around his waist instinctively closes tighter around him as you take him in, the dark tendrils of his hair arched seductively along his brows, his jawline sharp in the crimson moonlight as he stares wantonly at you.

Pure possession takes hold of you then.

“Alpha,” your hands ball the fabric of his blazer between them and you pull at them, “My alpha.”

“My omega,” he releases your chin and brings his arms down so that they hang loosely at his sides and you easily slide the blazer down his shoulders so that it joins your furs and neckband on the grassy floor in a heap.

“Your order to remain sightless this whole time…did you know what it would do to me?” You ask, your impulse to do unsightly things to the man in front of you overwhelming as the summer rain.

“Perhaps I did…Perhaps I didn’t,” he flicks a brow, “Maybe I just wanted to see how feral you’d become for me if any of your senses were denied of me.”

Headiness pumps through your very veins as you gaze up and down his form, desire latching onto you and nipping away at your better judgement as you take your index finger and bring it between both of you and both of you watch your nail sharpen and grow before you tell him, “I want you to take my wrist in your hand, alpha, and drag it down your chest until you’ve ripped your shirt in two using my hand to do it.”

“How risqué of you, my love,” his grins haughtily, his fingers closing around your wrist once more, “I love it.”

He does as you ask and is gentle in the way he coaxes your hand down, his fingers moving upward along your hand until he’s taken your index finger between two of his own and guides it down, the sheer ashen garment he’d been wearing easily shearing into two from his collarbone all the way down his abdomen.

“Take it off, alpha,” you demand.

“What if I say no?” He releases your hand, an amused expression lifting one of his lips.

“Then I’ll do it myself,” you decide, your other draping around his waist as if to keep him there.

You clutch the thin black material between each hand and it takes no effort at all to yank each side away from him so that it rolls down his arms and falls to the ground.

“Finally,” you whisper, your hands laying themselves over each defined, firm pectoral to leave a bloodied handprint and then there are five streaks that drip forth from that as you drag your digits down, down, down over corded muscle that is has been built over every inch of his body, your mouth watering at the feel of him and then your hands are sliding up along his waist, your fingers catching on the mountain of muscles that bedeck the landscape of his smooth skin even there and soon you are running your fingertips along his back-

“Slow down, my love.” He deeply directs, “I didn’t realize leaving you without visage of me for so long would afflict you the way it has. You’ve become needier. Not that I mind that, though. Matter of fact, I think it’s adorable.”

You whimper in answer.

“Whimper for me all you wish, my love, but you have become impatient,” his hand seizes both of your own and he holds them in front of you only to lean close, “and you know what happens when you let impatience take over you. You get disciplined.”

You whine in anticipation.

“You’re lucky that my marks have dried, love, or else I’d have turned you over on my knee and given them to you another way.” He utters, his fingers squeezing yours between them. Like this, your digits press against one another until all are smattered in red whilst even more of your own blood trickles along your mate’s wrist and branches along the protruding veins that bulge in his ministrations.

“I-I…I’m sorry, alpha, please forgive me,” you look up at him from under a fan of dark lashes, your instincts harking you to submit to the male.

He hums, “Mmm, that’s what I like to hear,” he releases you and sits back on his haunches, the new position affording you both of his thighs to sit back on instead of his one as he plants his hands on your hips to say, “Go on, then, omega. I shall forgive this since you are nearing your first heat. It is hard to control one’s urges as powerful as those are during your first time.”

“Thank you, alpha,” you lower your head in submission.

“Of course, omega,” his thumbs sweep themselves along your hips,” Now take your time marking me as I did you. I want you to remember this,” he resituates you until you are sat astride his clothed length, “Remember what it was like to see at what I did to you, omega, while you feel what you did to me. Now look at yourself, my love. Look at what I did to you.”

You do as you are told, a gasp leaving you as you look down at your chest, legs and arms. All over you is an impressively drawn scarlet filigree that reminds you of vines that stretch all across and over your skin.

The fingerprints he’d left on your arms resemble leaves that had fallen gracefully from the autumn boughs of oak trees you had loved to rest under during the latter, cooler months of the year when a howl had drawn you out of your den during the night and out into the woodland for hours at a time in your search to find its owner before peaceful sleep took you by your favorite creek while golden irises had looked after you from under the canopy of the oaken trees.

The very same trees you always used to meet him under in your dreams.

He’d never approached you until you were ready. Until the gods had decided you were ready.

He'd been your silent, yet watchful protector all this time and the shadows had been his home while he’d waited within them to ensure you were safe always.

Mischievousness slumbers and sincerity awakens within him when he says, “I never could tell you before, but the first time I saw you sleeping under that oak tree in the woodland when you were younger…I thought you must have been a goddess that had been sent from above. I never believed in love at first sight, but ever since that day, Y/N, I was hopelessly and utterly gone for you.” He confesses. “What you feel underneath you right now…that has never happened when I thought about anyone else. And I surely could never be with anyone else when my thoughts were only ever of you.”

His attention was warm as the sun, yet his touch could be gentle as a spring shower or hot as a winter fire. And his words…they were like the ocean tide that swept fluidly over your dried skin that could only be quenched in its wake.

Upon fate bringing you to him, you had never known happiness such as it was when you were with him and leapt through your chest while your heart danced with love for him.

Tears well up at the edges of your eyes, but it is fondness for him that draws them down and as the haze of lust is cleared away.

“Jungkook, you,” you try again, “I’m no goddess. I can’t sing or dance as you do… I cannot paint or hunt like-“

“Enough,” he puts a finger to your mouth, “I will not hear it. You are perfect the way you are. You may not realize it, but you are good at a great many things,” he shakes his head before your lips can move, “and I will remind you of that as often as I have to if that is what it takes for you to believe that. You were mistreated, if only briefly, by other omegas when you were smaller simply because they could never hope to possess what you have,” he kisses the tip of your nose as you bring your hands to his shoulders, your fingers closing around the thick muscle there as you peer up at him with vulnerability that tries to hide in your eyes as he asserts, “beauty,” he tucks some of your fallen strands from around your face behind your ear, “power,” his knuckles trail along your jaw, “intelligence, “his fingertips trace along your lip, “and of course, kindness, compassion and loyalty to your people. It is these things, among many others, that drew me to you, my love.”

You smile at him, love’s roots seeping even deeper within your being as your hands leave trails of red down his arms as you admit, “I love you, alpha. I wish I could show you how much I do with my marks, but I’ve never been very skilled with drawing things.”

Your mate croons, “I used to watch you try, you know. When you went to the forest and you had that sketchbook tucked inside that black cow hide bag that I asked your father to give to you in my stead.”

Tenderness buds within you as you ask, “You saw even that, huh?”

“They were very good stick figures, my love. I liked them very much. Just like I like you very much.”

“Could you…” you swallow, your cheeks turning even fiercer a red, “when this is all over, could you teach me to draw like this?” You let your eyeline follow the designs on you that your alpha had made before they return to your mate, your own hands lathering the underside of his arms in linear streaks of four like you’d done to the other side, “I want to paint on you like this one day.”

“I could never deny you, my love. You know that.”

You relish the sound he makes when your fingers drag down the back of his shoulders, each of your ring fingers marrying each other as they are joined along the cleft of his spine that dips in the middle as your hands descend while your other digits leave claw-like blotches down his back.

“I like the way that feels, my omega,” he rumbles out, the vibrations thrumming against your fingers as they bear down on his flesh to leave four thin scarlet lines slewing his skin on each side of his back, a thick one lining his vertebrae.

“It…probably doesn’t feel as good for you as did for me,” you blurt, your hands abandoning him before you press them against dried, dark trail of blood decorating his pectoral muscles and bring them upward, your digits opening wider as they ascend his neck, “I do not know very well how to please you, but you told me you would show me.”

“You are a natural, my love. You made me cum so hard earlier when you took me into your mouth for the first time,” his eyes close and he lets his head fall back when you spread your digits, each of your index fingers staining the column of his neck scarlet, his Adam’s apple bobbling as you pass over it, “ and even when you are not sucking me off like a dutiful little omega, you do make me feel nice. And these marks that you are giving me,” he pauses, his teeth coming down onto his tongue when your hands separate and each of your middle fingers rubs along the oily gland pulsing along his mastoid, “I am more than satisfied with them all because it is you that is drawing them.”

You realize what you’ve done and a sudden spurt of possessiveness has you smearing them entirely in crimson, your digits daubing at each gland that leaks of a secretion made entirely for you just as your own do for him as he groans, “Watch what you are doing, omega. I shall not be responsible for what happens to your gown if you keep doing that.”

His words are like liquid confidence and you drink them greedily.

You leave bloody remnants in your wake as your fingers tread onward along his chin while you quietly prod, “Is it my fingers you like or the promise of what they will do under your instruction, alpha?” your digits climb along the angular slopes along his cheeks as you whisper so small that even the wind has trouble hearing you as you admit, “because under your direction, I would do whatever you told me to.”

He tilts his head to the side, a lilt rising along both edges of his lips as he chuckles, the sound causing heat to churn in your core as your digits each etch crimson under his eyes that darken at your promise.

“Do not get me ruminating on what those fingers of yours could do, omega,” he says as your fingertips brush along his brows in their ascent only for your bloodied nails to lightly graze his temples as he utters, “I have had more than enough time to conjure up many, many fantasies and you can make a few of them a reality within the next few minutes.”

Your breath hitches and your sex clenches around nothing.

Your alpha knows. He can smell it. Can hear your shallow breaths.

He slants his head even further to the side, his teeth taking your lip between them as he teases, “You are becoming quite the lascivious little thing, aren’t you, little one? You just had my fingers inside you and all over you and yet,” his teeth burrow into the soft pillow of your lip until iron bursts all over his lip and eagerly, he laps at it, “yet you yearn for something else, do you not?”

There’s an unamused scoff behind you.

Someone else snorts.

It is Taehyung that jeers, “As revolting as this is to watch, I’ve had about all I can take. Can we get the battle for the omega started already? She stinks of the Pack Alpha and it is making me sick.”

Your alpha rises from his knees with you still held against his chest, his expression one of cockiness as taunts, “What, are you jealous, boy? I must say, I am enjoying this very much.”

“Prick,” Taehyung mutters.

“Say that again,” Jungkook sets you down carefully and holds one arm behind for you to grasp onto so that you can steady your weakened legs as he lifts his chin, “Be a little louder this time, boy, so that we might all hear what you have to say. Surely you would not have the gall to call me such a name when I nearly tore your arm from its socket a few hours ago.”

Taehyung remains silent. Jimin says nothing, but snickers behind the other wolf.

It is Yoongi that speaks next, though his eyes do not leave you as he gibes, “You really are quite shameless, aren’t you, Jeon? Would you care to tell us where you marked her? Surely you did not just play around with her skirts for the past few minutes, did you?”

Your alpha peers back at you, warmth seeping through your chest as he licks at his fangs and stares hotly at you as he goads, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Your cheeks burn like a wildfire and suddenly your soiled thighs ache all the more.

There’s the banging of heavy canes and staffs against the wooden stage as the elders call out the young wolves before you and then your grandmother steps forward, the brown furs around her shoulders swishing in the movement as her arms stretch out towards you while she asks, “Omega Y/N, it appears you have finished with the Smearing of your alpha and he, too, has concluded the second of his mating rites with you following the Offering he has bestowed upon you. The third and final part of these rites would be the Duels of the Chosen,” she looks to Jungkook and a silent understanding is met between them as his irises leave you for a second before they return to you before she continues, “As it stands, the Pack Alpha remains your champion that you have selected to fight for you so that he may join your side after a test of his strength with the other wolves that would try to win you from him. Am I correct in this assumption?”

You grip hard onto your alpha’s forearm and, at the tightening of your fingers around him, his eyes flit all over your form as they flounder with worry before they soften to gaze down upon you.

You look up at him and affection whirls within you as you say, “You are correct, Lead Elder. In all things you have said, you are right. My decision is and will always be Jeon Jungkook. There could not possibly be any other.”

Your grandmother gestures to another elder with greyed locks and a hunched stature before she hobbles back, a line of aged wolves following her down each side of the stage while the lone female elder speaks from atop it.

“Pack Omega Y/N, as you are the reason for these trials being held, you must now be restrained so that you do not interfere with the battles per the rulings of our ancestors in the tomes passed down to us on the ways of the wolf.”

The words are barely out before a loud, violent hiss rattles the very air into timid silence.

You don’t realize it is you that had been making it until your alpha’s lips latch onto yours and he swallows the sound until you’re purring.

He’s slow in the way he slides his tongue between the lips that you part easily for him and your breath ebbs into him as he strokes the cavern of you that he could spend all his days exploring.

The wet undulations of his tongue and smacking of his lips against yours deafen you to the footsteps that approach you and when you close your eyes and suck his tongue into your mouth, that’s when he growls, his mouth detaching from yours as he pants, “You do not wish to be separated from me.”

It’s not a question, but a statement.

“No,” you heave, “anything but that. I cannot just sit while you-“

“You said you wanted to please me earlier.” He reminds, “you would please me greatly if you listened to me and let the elders do what they must with you.”

You pout, “I don’t want anyone to touch me but you.”

Your alpha utters lowly, “That can be arranged, omega,” he slants his head to the side as he nears your neck only to inhale, “because I am averse to anything beyond myself laying a hand on you.” He respires and draws out his breath, warm air caressing the tender spot behind your ear as he says, “You exude, emit and emanate entirely the essence of your alpha from every bit of you with my spit and blood all over you,” his tongue flicks against your earlobe, “That body of yours belongs to me now, omega. And I will do whatever it takes to keep it that way.”

The cluster of aged female wolves led by your grandmother surround you, but before anyone can lay a hand on you, there’s a guttural snarl as your mate’s bloodied lips lift over sharp teeth, “As pack alpha,” his eyes flash,” I order you all to keep your hands off of my mate. You cannot contain her,” his long fingers to find their place on your waist before he draws one up along the side of your body, up your neck and finally settling on your cheek and you lean into his touch, your lips pressing against his palm as he stares only at you with golden irises, “For she will respond only to the one she recognizes as her alpha."

“Pack Alpha Jungkook,” your grandmother concedes, “You know what you have to do. I have kept these as you requested,” she holds her arms up, your alpha’s attention falling onto the small, ornately carved wooden boxes that the elders each carry past him. “Now it is time for you to give them to her.”

You cock your head at them.

The elders amble toward the foot of the thick tree trunk that rises from the ground for three feet before winding back and around in a timbered throne the first omegas sat upon to bear witness to the trials their alphas would go through for them.

Jungkook’s voice sets your blood alight, his touch warming your flesh as he swipes his thumb along your cheek to quietly utter, “You must be good for your alpha now, my love,” he nearly groans when he watches your tongue slip from between your lips to lick at the dried blood streaking his thumb when he makes the mistake of dragging it too close to your lips, his hand tightening on your waist as he tilts your head up, your mouth hovering far too close to his as he parts his lips to mutter, “Bear it for me, my mate. Be a good little omega and obey me when I say that you will sit there and watch me battle for you. Heed my order,” he slots his lips over yours yet never touches them to your own and when you try to connect them, his hand falls from your cheek, one index finger pressed against your mouth while his other digits grip your jaw in an obvious show of possession as he leans close, “And after this is over, I will take you in my bed, against the wall, over the table, on the fucking floor,” his tongue pushes against his cheek when you wrap yours around his digit, his fingers folding even tighter into your jaw in warning, “You’ll succumb every single time and I’ll fuck that heat out of you until you cannot even hold yourself up to present to me. But that can only come if you submit to my will. If you yield to me.”

“I want to stay with you,” you whimper as he backs you up.

“You will stay where I command you to, my love,” his voice ripples with authority as he leans close, “do as I tell you. Remember the oath I made to you, omega. I’ll give everything I have to come back to you.”

“I cannot just leave you, alpha-“ your voice is devoured by his lips that he slams against yours when he pushes you back, your spine hitting the curved edge of the wood as his hands find themselves on your hips to pull them against him.

“You can and you will. Your alpha demands it and my omega will do as I say.”

“But-“

“Careful, little one,” He’s rough with you and nips at the spot he’d bitten earlier along your lip as one of his hands rises to grasp the nape of your neck and in one quick movement, he’s yanked your head back to expose your neck in a show of possession as he growls,” you wouldn’t want to disobey me in front of all these other wolves, now, would you? I can promise that I will ensure you are reprimanded and punished later if you choose to undermine me here, my love.”

Your breath hitches when his eyes narrow heatedly and he utters low with his lips prey upon your scent gland that juts out along the side of your throat,” I should discipline you now for such insubordination,” his lips lock themselves around your scent gland and he dares to suck your skin between his teeth, his tongue flicking against your flesh as you moan aloud for all the wolves around you to hear whilst your eyes fall closed in surrender to him as he mutters,” Or shall I show you what happens when you misbehave and make you listen to me? And make you submit to me?”

His earthen scent spreads more insistently under your nostrils, your muscles releasing as his pheromones filter through and permeate you until the tenseness that had been tautening you is drawn out of you as golden eyes stare fixatedly down at you.

“Do it,” you cave, “Make me. If you do not, I will only cry out for you until you return to my side. I won’t be able to help it,” your cheeks warm under the heat of his gaze as you admit, “the bond…it has grown too strong and my heat…it will soon take me over. I need you, alpha.”

The chuckle that fills the air is dripping in dominance.

“Then I command you to sit before me, omega.”

Your very blood stops to listen to his words. It’s as if it flows to a different heart in the way your body responds and but a second passes before you are sat atop the timbered perch in front of him.

He’d given you orders before, but none like this. None where his eyes were turned black as the sky and his voice became dark as the shadows that wound around him like he was the very god of the night.

Your alpha stands tall, his eyes drifting down your shorter frame while you stare up at him.

“I command you to remain in this spot,” his hand retreats from you and you whine when he crouches, your eyes following him in his descent as he peers at the largest of the carved wooden boxes before glancing with interest at you. “And I command you not to resist me while I chain you to this oaken throne using silver forged by own hand.”

It is as if his voice shackles itself to your very bones that lock into place, your heart pounding in your chest when each of his arms shoot out so that both cage you into him as his tone deepens, “Do not worry, little one,” his pink tongue slides along his lips as dark eyes trap you. “I’ll be gentle. For now,” he makes a sound of consideration, “though, you do seem to like it rough.”

#jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #dom!jungkook #werewolf!jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts #alpha!jungkook #bts abo #jungkook hot #alpha omega bts #alpha jungkook x omega reader #bts scenarios #bts x reader

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sassenach77yle · 6 months

Text

Here, Dr. Randall.” Joe leaned over and carefully placed the skull in my hands. “Tell me whether this lady was in good health, while I check her legs.” “Me? I’m not a forensic scientist.” Still, I glanced automatically down. It was either an old specimen, or had been weathered extensively; the bone was smooth, with a gloss that fresh specimens never had, stained and discolored by the leaching of pigments from the earth. “Oh, all right.” I turned the skull slowly in my hands, watching the bones, naming them each in my mind as I saw them. The smooth arch of the parietals, fused to the declivity of the temporal, with the small ridge where the jaw muscle originated, the jutting projection that meshed itself with the maxillary into the graceful curve of the squamosal arch. She had had lovely cheekbones, high and broad. The upper jaw had most of its teeth—straight and white. Deep eyes. The scooped bone at the back of the orbits was dark with shadow; even by tilting the skull to the side, I couldn’t get light to illuminate the whole cavity. The skull felt light in my hands, the bone fragile. I stroked her brow and my hand ran upward, and down behind the occiput, my fingers seeking the dark hole at the base, the foremen magnum, where all the messages of the nervous system pass to and from the busy brain. Then I held it close against my stomach, eyes closed, and felt the shifting sadness, filling the cavity of the skull like running water. And an odd faint sense—of surprise?

“Someone killed her,” I said. “She didn’t want to die.”

I opened my eyes to find Horace Thompson staring at me, his own eyes wide in his round, pale face. I handed him the skull, very gingerly. “Where did you find her?” I asked. Mr. Thompson exchanged glances with Joe, then looked back at me, both eyebrows still high.

“She’s from a cave in the Caribbean,” he said. “There were a lot of artifacts with her. We think she’s maybe between a hundred-fifty and two hundred years old.”

“She’s what?” Joe was grinning broadly, enjoying his joke. “Our friend Mr. Thompson here is from the anthropology department at Harvard,” he said. “His friend Wicklow knows me; asked me would I have a look at this skeleton, to tell them what I could about it.” “The nerve of you!” I said indignantly. “I thought she was some unidentified body the coroner’s office dragged in.” “Well, she’s unidentified,” Joe pointed out. “And certainly liable to stay that way.”[...]

“Oh, de headbone connected to de…neckbone,” Joe sang softly, laying out the vertebrae along the edge of the desk. His stubby fingers darted skillfully among the bones, nudging them into alignment. “De neckbone connected to de…backbone…” “Don’t pay any attention to him,” I told Horace. “You’ll just encourage him.” “Now hear…de word…of de Lawd!” he finished triumphantly. “Jesus Christ, L. J., you’re somethin’ else! Look here.” Horace Thompson and I bent obediently over the line of spiky vertebral bones. The wide body of the axis had a deep gouge; the posterior zygapophysis had broken clean off, and the fracture plane went completely through the centrum of the bone. “A broken neck?” Thompson asked, peering interestedly. “Yeah, but more than that, I think.” Joe’s finger moved over the line of the fracture plane.

“See here? The bone’s not just cracked, it’s gone right there. Somebody tried to cut this lady’s head clean off. With a dull blade,” he concluded with relish.

Horace Thompson was looking at me queerly. “How did you know she’d been killed, Dr. Randall?” he asked. I could feel the blood rising in my face. “I don’t know,” I said. “I—she—felt like it, that’s all.” “Really?” He blinked a few times, but didn’t press me further. “How odd.” “She does it all the time,” Joe informed him, squinting at the femur he was measuring with a pair of calipers. “Mostly on live people, though. Best diagnostician I ever saw.” He set down the calipers and picked up a small plastic ruler. “A cave, you said?” “We think it was a…er, secret slave burial,” Mr. Thompson explained, blushing, and I suddenly realized why he had seemed so abashed when he realized which of us was the Dr. Abernathy he had been sent to see. Joe shot him a sudden sharp glance, but then bent back to his work. He kept humming “Dem Dry Bones” faintly to himself as he measured the pelvic inlet, then went back to the legs, this time concentrating on the tibia. Finally he straightened up, shaking his head. “Not a slave,” he said. Horace blinked. “But she must have been,” he said. “The things we found with her…a clear African influence…” “No,” Joe said flatly. He tapped the long femur, where it rested on his desk. His fingernail clicked on the dry bone. “She wasn’t black.” “You can tell that? From bones?” Horace Thompson was visibly agitated. “But I thought—that paper by Jensen, I mean—theories about racial physical differences—largely exploded—” He blushed scarlet, unable to finish. “Oh, they’re there,” said Joe, very dryly indeed. “If you want to think blacks and whites are equal under the skin, be my guest, but it ain’t scientifically so.” He turned and pulled a book from the shelf behind him. Tables of Skeletal Variance, the title read. “Take a look at this,” Joe invited. “You can see the differences in a lot of bones, but especially in the leg bones. Blacks have a completely different femur-to-tibia ratio than whites do. And that lady”—he pointed to the skeleton on his desk—“was white. Caucasian. No question about it.”

Cap 20 diagnosis ~VOYAGER

#outlander #outlanderedit #the frasers #outlander series #outlander starz #outlander fanart #outlander books #claire fraser #dr claire randall #claire beauchamp #caitrionabalfe #outlander season 3 #outlander 3x05

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