Beautiful Creatures | Preview

Beautiful Creatures | Preview

❝We’re all beautiful creatures of the night, vampires and witches.❞

PAIRING! vampire!kim seonwoo x witch!female reader

GENRES! fluff, angst, vampire au, witch au, kinda strangers to lovers, second chance romance?, a sprinkle of forbidden love, reincarnation au

WORD COUNT! almost 3k

WARNINGS! mc is an orphan, physical violence, prejudiced behaviors from the town’s people, death, suicide? (this will make sense later), i think that’s it? lmk if i missed anything

SYNOPSIS! in the gloomy town of Eldritch Cove, a coven of witches resides deep in the marsh, never to make contact with outsiders, it's safer this way. But when a mysterious young man passes through town everything changes

AUTHOR’S NOTE! hi! please note that every setting and character in the story is of my own creation therefore i have copyright so please do not steal my ideas and claim them as your own! hope you enjoy the preview for my upcoming fic!

The fog clung low to the ground, swirling around your ankles as you moved carefully through the marsh, your basket half-filled with herbs. The air was heavy with the scent of wet earth and the distant hum of cicadas. The marsh was a place of silence and secrets, where even the wind dared not whisper too loudly.

Beside you, Winnifred, with her wild, curly red hair, bounded through the mist like a fox on the hunt, her bright green eyes gleaming with curiosity. She was the youngest in the coven, her energy and playfulness a stark contrast to your more cautious demeanor.

“Winnie, slow down. You’ll scare off the moonwort,” you called softly, your gaze scanning the ground for the pale silver leaves of the plant you and her sought.

Winnifred stopped mid-step, a mischievous smile spreading across her freckled face. “It’s not going anywhere, Y/N! The moonwort isn’t afraid of me. Look, I’ve already found some!” She darted forward, pulling up a clump of the shimmering herb with a triumphant grin, holding it up for you to see.

You sighed, though a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “You’re lucky Mother isn’t here to see you uprooting the plants like that.”

Winnifred rolled her eyes. “Mother always says to respect the marsh, but I swear, sometimes I think it respects me more than I respect it.” She winked, dropping the moonwort into your basket.

As you reached down to gather your own handful, a sudden chill ran up your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. The marsh grew eerily still, and the familiar sounds of insects and croaking frogs faded into silence. Something was different.

“Winnie,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “Do you feel that?”

Winnifred straightened, her playful expression faltering as she glanced around. “Feel what?”

You couldn’t quite explain it, but the marsh—the very air around you—felt charged, like a storm about to break. There was a presence, something close, something ancient. Your heart quickened, though you didn’t know why.

Without a word, you rose to your feet, your eyes scanning the fog. Then, through the thick mist, you saw it: a figure standing at the edge of the marsh, half-hidden by the shadows of the trees. He stood unnaturally still, too still, like a predator waiting for its prey.

Winnifred saw him too. “Who’s that?” she whispered, her tone no longer playful.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the man—tall, but not too tall, and draped in black clothing that seemed to blend into the surrounding mist. His hair was dark, his face pale against the shadowy backdrop. But it was his eyes—sharp, deep, and old, far older than the body they belonged to—that caught your breath. They were fixed on you, as though he had been waiting for this very moment.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a strange mix of fear and…something else. A flicker of recognition, though you had never seen him before in your life.

“Come on, let’s go,” Winnifred urged, tugging at your sleeve. “He’s giving me the creeps.”

You didn’t move, your gaze locked with his. Something in those eyes tugged at the edges of your memory, a sensation you couldn’t explain. The air between you felt electric, like the space itself was charged with something ancient, something that had always been there but just now revealed itself.

The man took a step forward, and you instinctively stepped back, your breath catching.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

For a moment, the man said nothing, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile, as though your question amused him. “I could ask you the same,” he replied, his voice mellifluous, smooth, and strangely familiar, like the echo of a dream you couldn’t quite place.

You frowned, confused. There was something unsettling in his presence, but there was also an undeniable pull, like a thread that connected you to him, a thread you didn’t know existed until now.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, unsure why you were compelled to answer at all.

“Y/N…” The way he said your name sent a shiver down your spine, as though he had spoken it a thousand times before. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Again?” your confusion deepened. You had never seen him before in your life, and yet…there was that flicker of recognition, as though a part of you knew him, a part buried deep within you, hidden beneath layers of forgotten memories.

“Who are you?” you asked again, more insistent this time.

The man’s smile faded, replaced by something softer, almost melancholic. He stepped closer, his dark eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve been searching for you.”

Winnifred stepped in front of you, her red hair flaming in the dim light. “You need to stay back,” she warned, though her voice trembled. “We’re not afraid of you.”

The man’s gaze flicked briefly to Winnifred, then back to you, almost as if he hadn’t heard the younger witch’s warning. “I mean you no harm,” he said softly. “But we need to talk… do you—”

Your mind raced. Who was this stranger, and why did he speak to you as if you had known each other for lifetimes? The strange connection, the way your heart seemed to leap into your throat at the sight of him—none of it made sense.

But before you could ask another question, Winnifred grabbed your arm, pulling you back. “Y/N, let’s go. Now.”

The fog seemed to thicken as the tension in the air grew. You hesitated for a moment longer, staring into the man’s eyes. There was a sadness there, a longing that felt as old as the marsh itself, but something in you told you to trust your sister’s instincts. This was too much, too strange.

Without another word, you allowed Winnifred to pull you away, your heart pounding as you retreated into the mist. But even as you fled, you could still feel the man’s gaze on you, lingering like a shadow.

And somewhere deep within you, a memory stirred—faint, fleeting, but unmistakable.

As you and Winifred disappeared into the safety of the trees, the man remained still, his eyes fixed on the place where you had stood. He could feel it—the stirring of your power, the faintest glimmer of recognition in your eyes.

You didn’t remember him. Not yet.

But you would.

Soon.

The mist began to lift slightly as you and Winnifred made your way back through the winding paths of the marsh. The air was still heavy with moisture, and the twilight sky was slowly darkening, casting long shadows between the trees. Winnifred walked ahead, her pace faster than usual, her usually playful nature subdued as she kept glancing back at you.

You, for your part, were quiet, still shaken by the encounter but not afraid—more curious, unsettled by the strange man and the unexplainable pull you’d felt in his presence. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something familiar about him, though you didn't know what.

“Who do you think he was?” Winnifred asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was softer now, laced with worry. “He didn’t seem like just a normal person. Not from around here, that’s for sure.”

You shook your head, your brows furrowed. “I don’t know, Winnie. He wasn’t like anyone I’ve met before. There was something different about him.”

Winnifred chewed her lip thoughtfully, slowing her pace so she could walk beside you. “Different how?”

You hesitated, struggling to put your feelings into words. “He felt… familiar, but not in a way I can explain. Like I should know him, but I don’t.”

“Maybe he’s from another coven and he’s just passing through town?” Winnifred suggested, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“Maybe,” you murmured, but you didn’t believe that. There was something far older, far deeper in the way he had looked at you. Not just like someone passing through, but someone who had been searching for you.

Winnifred frowned, casting a sidelong glance at you. “He didn’t scare you, did he?”

You shook your head. “No, not really. But we don’t know him, and that makes him dangerous enough.” you didn’t want to admit how calm you had felt around the stranger, even as your instincts had warned you to stay away.

By the time you reached the large wooden cabin nestled deep within the marsh, the sun had dipped below the horizon. The soft glow of lanterns illuminated the windows, and the scent of sage and rosemary drifted from the porch, where dried herbs hung in bundles.

Winnifred opened the door first, her tension easing slightly as the familiar warmth of the home welcomed you both in. The sound of quiet conversation drifted from the kitchen, where your other sisters were likely preparing dinner, but it was Mother who stood in the hallway, her tall frame draped in a dark cloak as though she had been waiting for you.

Mother’s sharp eyes instantly fell on you two girls, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “You’re late,” she said, her voice calm but always carrying an undercurrent of authority. “I trust you found what you were looking for.”

“We did,” you answered, holding up your basket of herbs.

But Winnifred, ever eager to share news, didn’t wait another moment. “Mother, we saw someone in the marsh! A man! He was just standing there, staring at Y/N! He was strange! He had these dark clothes, and these weird eyes, and—”

The moment Winnifred said it, Mother’s smile faltered, her expression tightening as she fixed her gaze on you. “A man?” she repeated, her voice strained. “Where?”

“In the deeper part of the marsh,” you said cautiously. “Near the black pool. He didn’t try to harm us, but—”

Mother stepped forward, cutting you off with a sharp look. “And what did he look like, exactly?” Her voice, though controlled, had an edge to it that sent a cold shiver down your spine.

Winnifred, oblivious to the shift in mood, eagerly described him. “Average height, dark hair, pale skin. He was wearing black, and his eyes were kind of… intense. He looked like he knew Y/N, or something.”

At this, Mother’s expression grew even more severe. She stared hard at you, as though searching your face for some hidden truth. “And you didn’t recognize him?”

You shook your head, your stomach tightening. “No. But there was something strange about him. It didn’t feel like the first time I’d seen him, but I don’t know why.”

Mother’s lips thinned, and for a moment, you thought you saw fear flicker in her eyes—a rare and unsettling sight. But just as quickly as it appeared, Mother’s face smoothed into an unreadable mask. She turned away, busying herself with adjusting the herbs hanging by the doorway.

“I don’t like strangers wandering around the marsh,” Mother said, her voice clipped. “Especially not near the black pool. It’s a dangerous place.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Mother, is something wrong? You’ve always said the marsh belongs to us. Why would anyone else be here?”

Mother turned to face you again, her expression unreadable. “The marsh is our home, yes, but it draws many things—creatures, spirits, people—things we can’t always control. You should be more careful. This man could be dangerous. We don’t know who he is, or what he wants.”

“But he didn’t feel dangerous,” you pressed, your instincts telling you there was more to this than Mother was letting on. “You seem upset.”

“I don’t like strangers here,” Mother repeated firmly, her voice closing off the conversation. She stepped forward, placing her hands on your shoulders, her touch firm but comforting. “Promise me you’ll stay away from him if you see him again. I don’t care who he is, or what he says. He doesn’t belong here.”

You searched your mother’s face, but all you saw was a hard resolve and a trace of something else—fear, or maybe something deeper. You nodded slowly, though you didn’t believe for a second that Mother was telling you the full truth. “I’ll be careful.”

“Good,” Mother said, releasing you and turning away. “Now, both of you get cleaned up for dinner.”

As Mother disappeared down the hallway, Winnifred leaned closer to you, her voice low. “That was weird, right? She seemed really upset.”

“Yeah,” you whispered back, your mind racing. “She’s hiding something. I don’t know what, but she knows more about that man than she’s letting on.”

Winnifred’s wide eyes were full of curiosity. “Do you think she’s met him before?”

You shook your head, but doubt gnawed at you. “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

As you made your way to the kitchen to join your sisters, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the encounter in the marsh was only the beginning of something much bigger. And whoever that man was, he had stirred something within you—something that even Mother couldn’t protect you from.

You had to know the truth.

© 2024 hoonven, all rights reserved. i do not give permission to modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize my works on any platform

NETWORK! @kstrucknet

THE TAGLIST FOR THIS FIC IS OFFICIALLY OPEN

Beautiful Creatures | Preview

❝We’re all beautiful creatures of the night, vampires and witches.❞

PAIRING! vampire!kim seonwoo x witch!female reader

GENRES! fluff, angst, vampire au, witch au, kinda strangers to lovers, second chance romance?, a sprinkle of forbidden love, reincarnation au

WORD COUNT! almost 3k

WARNINGS! mc is an orphan, physical violence, prejudiced behaviors from the town’s people, death, suicide? (this will make sense later), i think that’s it? lmk if i missed anything

SYNOPSIS! in the gloomy town of Eldritch Cove, a coven of witches resides deep in the marsh, never to make contact with outsiders, it's safer this way. But when a mysterious young man passes through town everything changes

AUTHOR’S NOTE! hi! please note that every setting and character in the story is of my own creation therefore i have copyright so please do not steal my ideas and claim them as your own! hope you enjoy the preview for my upcoming fic!

The fog clung low to the ground, swirling around your ankles as you moved carefully through the marsh, your basket half-filled with herbs. The air was heavy with the scent of wet earth and the distant hum of cicadas. The marsh was a place of silence and secrets, where even the wind dared not whisper too loudly.

Beside you, Winnifred, with her wild, curly red hair, bounded through the mist like a fox on the hunt, her bright green eyes gleaming with curiosity. She was the youngest in the coven, her energy and playfulness a stark contrast to your more cautious demeanor.

“Winnie, slow down. You’ll scare off the moonwort,” you called softly, your gaze scanning the ground for the pale silver leaves of the plant you and her sought.

Winnifred stopped mid-step, a mischievous smile spreading across her freckled face. “It’s not going anywhere, Y/N! The moonwort isn’t afraid of me. Look, I’ve already found some!” She darted forward, pulling up a clump of the shimmering herb with a triumphant grin, holding it up for you to see.

You sighed, though a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “You’re lucky Mother isn’t here to see you uprooting the plants like that.”

Winnifred rolled her eyes. “Mother always says to respect the marsh, but I swear, sometimes I think it respects me more than I respect it.” She winked, dropping the moonwort into your basket.

As you reached down to gather your own handful, a sudden chill ran up your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. The marsh grew eerily still, and the familiar sounds of insects and croaking frogs faded into silence. Something was different.

“Winnie,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “Do you feel that?”

Winnifred straightened, her playful expression faltering as she glanced around. “Feel what?”

You couldn’t quite explain it, but the marsh—the very air around you—felt charged, like a storm about to break. There was a presence, something close, something ancient. Your heart quickened, though you didn’t know why.

Without a word, you rose to your feet, your eyes scanning the fog. Then, through the thick mist, you saw it: a figure standing at the edge of the marsh, half-hidden by the shadows of the trees. He stood unnaturally still, too still, like a predator waiting for its prey.

Winnifred saw him too. “Who’s that?” she whispered, her tone no longer playful.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the man—tall, but not too tall, and draped in black clothing that seemed to blend into the surrounding mist. His hair was dark, his face pale against the shadowy backdrop. But it was his eyes—sharp, deep, and old, far older than the body they belonged to—that caught your breath. They were fixed on you, as though he had been waiting for this very moment.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a strange mix of fear and…something else. A flicker of recognition, though you had never seen him before in your life.

“Come on, let’s go,” Winnifred urged, tugging at your sleeve. “He’s giving me the creeps.”

You didn’t move, your gaze locked with his. Something in those eyes tugged at the edges of your memory, a sensation you couldn’t explain. The air between you felt electric, like the space itself was charged with something ancient, something that had always been there but just now revealed itself.

The man took a step forward, and you instinctively stepped back, your breath catching.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

For a moment, the man said nothing, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile, as though your question amused him. “I could ask you the same,” he replied, his voice mellifluous, smooth, and strangely familiar, like the echo of a dream you couldn’t quite place.

You frowned, confused. There was something unsettling in his presence, but there was also an undeniable pull, like a thread that connected you to him, a thread you didn’t know existed until now.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, unsure why you were compelled to answer at all.

“Y/N…” The way he said your name sent a shiver down your spine, as though he had spoken it a thousand times before. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Again?” your confusion deepened. You had never seen him before in your life, and yet…there was that flicker of recognition, as though a part of you knew him, a part buried deep within you, hidden beneath layers of forgotten memories.

“Who are you?” you asked again, more insistent this time.

The man’s smile faded, replaced by something softer, almost melancholic. He stepped closer, his dark eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve been searching for you.”

Winnifred stepped in front of you, her red hair flaming in the dim light. “You need to stay back,” she warned, though her voice trembled. “We’re not afraid of you.”

The man’s gaze flicked briefly to Winnifred, then back to you, almost as if he hadn’t heard the younger witch’s warning. “I mean you no harm,” he said softly. “But we need to talk… do you—”

Your mind raced. Who was this stranger, and why did he speak to you as if you had known each other for lifetimes? The strange connection, the way your heart seemed to leap into your throat at the sight of him—none of it made sense.

But before you could ask another question, Winnifred grabbed your arm, pulling you back. “Y/N, let’s go. Now.”

The fog seemed to thicken as the tension in the air grew. You hesitated for a moment longer, staring into the man’s eyes. There was a sadness there, a longing that felt as old as the marsh itself, but something in you told you to trust your sister’s instincts. This was too much, too strange.

Without another word, you allowed Winnifred to pull you away, your heart pounding as you retreated into the mist. But even as you fled, you could still feel the man’s gaze on you, lingering like a shadow.

And somewhere deep within you, a memory stirred—faint, fleeting, but unmistakable.

As you and Winifred disappeared into the safety of the trees, the man remained still, his eyes fixed on the place where you had stood. He could feel it—the stirring of your power, the faintest glimmer of recognition in your eyes.

You didn’t remember him. Not yet.

But you would.

Soon.

The mist began to lift slightly as you and Winnifred made your way back through the winding paths of the marsh. The air was still heavy with moisture, and the twilight sky was slowly darkening, casting long shadows between the trees. Winnifred walked ahead, her pace faster than usual, her usually playful nature subdued as she kept glancing back at you.

You, for your part, were quiet, still shaken by the encounter but not afraid—more curious, unsettled by the strange man and the unexplainable pull you’d felt in his presence. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something familiar about him, though you didn't know what.

“Who do you think he was?” Winnifred asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was softer now, laced with worry. “He didn’t seem like just a normal person. Not from around here, that’s for sure.”

You shook your head, your brows furrowed. “I don’t know, Winnie. He wasn’t like anyone I’ve met before. There was something different about him.”

Winnifred chewed her lip thoughtfully, slowing her pace so she could walk beside you. “Different how?”

You hesitated, struggling to put your feelings into words. “He felt… familiar, but not in a way I can explain. Like I should know him, but I don’t.”

“Maybe he’s from another coven and he’s just passing through town?” Winnifred suggested, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“Maybe,” you murmured, but you didn’t believe that. There was something far older, far deeper in the way he had looked at you. Not just like someone passing through, but someone who had been searching for you.

Winnifred frowned, casting a sidelong glance at you. “He didn’t scare you, did he?”

You shook your head. “No, not really. But we don’t know him, and that makes him dangerous enough.” you didn’t want to admit how calm you had felt around the stranger, even as your instincts had warned you to stay away.

By the time you reached the large wooden cabin nestled deep within the marsh, the sun had dipped below the horizon. The soft glow of lanterns illuminated the windows, and the scent of sage and rosemary drifted from the porch, where dried herbs hung in bundles.

Winnifred opened the door first, her tension easing slightly as the familiar warmth of the home welcomed you both in. The sound of quiet conversation drifted from the kitchen, where your other sisters were likely preparing dinner, but it was Mother who stood in the hallway, her tall frame draped in a dark cloak as though she had been waiting for you.

Mother’s sharp eyes instantly fell on you two girls, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “You’re late,” she said, her voice calm but always carrying an undercurrent of authority. “I trust you found what you were looking for.”

“We did,” you answered, holding up your basket of herbs.

But Winnifred, ever eager to share news, didn’t wait another moment. “Mother, we saw someone in the marsh! A man! He was just standing there, staring at Y/N! He was strange! He had these dark clothes, and these weird eyes, and—”

The moment Winnifred said it, Mother’s smile faltered, her expression tightening as she fixed her gaze on you. “A man?” she repeated, her voice strained. “Where?”

“In the deeper part of the marsh,” you said cautiously. “Near the black pool. He didn’t try to harm us, but—”

Mother stepped forward, cutting you off with a sharp look. “And what did he look like, exactly?” Her voice, though controlled, had an edge to it that sent a cold shiver down your spine.

Winnifred, oblivious to the shift in mood, eagerly described him. “Average height, dark hair, pale skin. He was wearing black, and his eyes were kind of… intense. He looked like he knew Y/N, or something.”

At this, Mother’s expression grew even more severe. She stared hard at you, as though searching your face for some hidden truth. “And you didn’t recognize him?”

You shook your head, your stomach tightening. “No. But there was something strange about him. It didn’t feel like the first time I’d seen him, but I don’t know why.”

Mother’s lips thinned, and for a moment, you thought you saw fear flicker in her eyes—a rare and unsettling sight. But just as quickly as it appeared, Mother’s face smoothed into an unreadable mask. She turned away, busying herself with adjusting the herbs hanging by the doorway.

“I don’t like strangers wandering around the marsh,” Mother said, her voice clipped. “Especially not near the black pool. It’s a dangerous place.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Mother, is something wrong? You’ve always said the marsh belongs to us. Why would anyone else be here?”

Mother turned to face you again, her expression unreadable. “The marsh is our home, yes, but it draws many things—creatures, spirits, people—things we can’t always control. You should be more careful. This man could be dangerous. We don’t know who he is, or what he wants.”

“But he didn’t feel dangerous,” you pressed, your instincts telling you there was more to this than Mother was letting on. “You seem upset.”

“I don’t like strangers here,” Mother repeated firmly, her voice closing off the conversation. She stepped forward, placing her hands on your shoulders, her touch firm but comforting. “Promise me you’ll stay away from him if you see him again. I don’t care who he is, or what he says. He doesn’t belong here.”

You searched your mother’s face, but all you saw was a hard resolve and a trace of something else—fear, or maybe something deeper. You nodded slowly, though you didn’t believe for a second that Mother was telling you the full truth. “I’ll be careful.”

“Good,” Mother said, releasing you and turning away. “Now, both of you get cleaned up for dinner.”

As Mother disappeared down the hallway, Winnifred leaned closer to you, her voice low. “That was weird, right? She seemed really upset.”

“Yeah,” you whispered back, your mind racing. “She’s hiding something. I don’t know what, but she knows more about that man than she’s letting on.”

Winnifred’s wide eyes were full of curiosity. “Do you think she’s met him before?”

You shook your head, but doubt gnawed at you. “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

As you made your way to the kitchen to join your sisters, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the encounter in the marsh was only the beginning of something much bigger. And whoever that man was, he had stirred something within you—something that even Mother couldn’t protect you from.

You had to know the truth.

© 2024 hoonven, all rights reserved. i do not give permission to modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize my works on any platform

NETWORK! @kstrucknet

THE TAGLIST FOR THIS FIC IS OFFICIALLY OPEN

latino!mingyu

WARNINGS: smut, latino life, im jus kidding (ou não também), mentions of alcohol, flipping the cap before kissing you, fingering, oral, dirty talk, hair pulling, public-teasing, public-make out.

if nobody said it, i will. MINGYU LATINO!!! mingyu who, no matter where he is, somehow finds a reason to grab a beer, and yeah, it's gotta be ice cold. “wanna pilsen, babe?” he’s already tossing one your way before you can answer. like, let’s be real here, this man drinks anything that remotely resembles beer. pilsen, brahma, skol, corona? he’s down. anything to cool off that tanned, toned-ass body of his after playing fútbol/futebol/soccer, anyways, for way too long just ‘cause he knows you’re watching. and when that shirt comes off? goddamn, everybody in the surroundings is drooling. mingyu knows it too, that cocky grin spreading across his face, and you're just trying to act normal. but it’s impossible when the man is literally glowing under the scorching sun.

he danced at his cousin’s quinceanera/festa de 15. of course, he did. he’s that hot cousin, the one all the aunties fawn over, talking about how he’s grown up so well, while the guys on the block are salty ‘cause their girls won’t stop staring when he's shirtless walking in havaianas flip-flops. he’s out there, not giving a damn, smiling, swaying his hips to reggaeton with you, and trust—he’s glued to your ass like you owe him something. or clapping his hands and asking you to dance samba with him. you roll your eyes, but you’re lowkey hyped up by his attention. that man is always hyping you up, calling you “amor/cariño/gatinha/mama/bebe” like it’s a full-time job.

every party, every gathering, someone’s got him dancing with their cousin, their sister, their aunt even (and he’s good at it).

mingyu who comes to your ear, whispering dirty things, just to see you getting all wet. “you look so fuckin’ good tonight, mama. can’t wait to get you back home and ruin that dress.”

he says it like it’s a casual thing, with that smirk of his. the kinda smirk that says he knows you’re weak for him, the way you flush when he so much as drags his fingers up your arm. and he’s not wrong. you could play it off cool, but he’s already in your head, already got you thinking about what’s gonna happen later.

mingyu who's skin is so damn hot, like he’s a human furnace, and you swear it’s impossible to cuddle with him for too long without needing a breather. the dude radiates heat like no one else, and even though you love the way he wraps around you—those big arms pulling you tight, holding you like he’s never gonna let go—there’s always that moment where you’re like, “okay, I need to cool the fuck down before I melt into a puddle.” and he always laughs about it, gives you that lazy smile while you’re fanning yourself, like, “what? too hot to handle?”

but the thing is, it’s not just about the heat. there’s something else in the way mingyu touches u, like he’s always trying to get as close as possible. sometimes, he has no shame in it—like when he gets that look in his eyes, and next thing you know, he’s got you pinned against a random house on the street, his mouth crashing into yours. tongue and tongue and tongue, his lips moving against yours like he’s starving for you. his hands? they’re everywhere—flying down to grab your ass, squeezing like he owns it, pulling you closer, so you can feel just how bad he wants you.

and oh my god, when he turns his cap backward before kissing you? dead. you know it's coming—the way he runs a hand through his hair, then flips that hat around. it’s such a small move, but fuck, it drives you insane every time. like he’s gearing up for something more, and you know that look means he’s about to ruin you in the best way possible. no warning, he just dives in, lips pressing hard, tongue slipping inside your mouth, claiming you. he kisses like it’s his job—wet, messy, and so fucking good you lose yourself in it every time.

then there’s mingyu in bed. and the man’s got skills 😭, and he knows it. when he’s behind you, hands in your hair, pulling just enough to make your back arch, it’s game over. you’re a mess, and he’s thriving off it, low growls escaping him as he fucks you from behind, his hips slamming into yours with that steady, unforgiving rhythm. he’s so into it—one hand gripping your hair, the other on your waist, guiding you, pulling you back onto him. and he doesn’t just pull your hair like it’s a casual thing—oh no. he pulls it slow, but then suddenly he yanks harder as if he's silently telling you “this is mine. you’re mine.”

and don’t even get started on his fingers. mingyu’s got the best fingers, and he knows exactly how to use them. whether it’s slow and teasing, dragging it out until u’re practically begging, or fast and rough, working you up until you can barely think straight—he’s a pro at this shit. sometimes, he’ll have u spread out, fingers deep inside you, curling them, head bobbing as he sucks your clit. and he watches you fall apart under his touch? it’s like he’s studying every reaction, committing it to memory so he can wreck you even harder next time.

but the dirtiest thing about mingyu? it’s the way he talks when you’re in public and trying to keep it together. you know the type—when you’re at dinner or out with friends, and you’re trying to be normal, trying to focus on the conversation, but mingyu’s sitting next to u, whispering the filthiest shit in your ear. his voice is low, just for you, and no one else at the table has a clue what’s going on.

“bet you’re so fuckin’ wet for me right now, aren’t you, baby? can feel how bad you want it.”

and he says it all casual, like he’s not making you clench your thighs together under the table, trying to keep from giving yourself away. but he knows, and he’s not letting up. his hand brushes your leg under the table, fingertips barely grazing your thigh, and your heart’s pounding because you know what he’s doing.

“if i slid my hand up your skirt right now, you’d be soaked. don’t lie, mama. i can see it in your eyes.”

and it’s so fucking hard not to react, not to moan right then and there. but you can’t. you won’t. because you're in public, surrounded by people, and the last thing you need is to let everyone in on the fact that mingyu’s got you trembling in your seat. but he loves it, loves seeing you try to hold it together, that smug grin playing on his lips as he watches you squirm. “gonna take you home later,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear, “will make you cream on my cock, make you scream my name. don’t think you’ll be so quiet then.”

it’s all you can do to keep breathing, to keep pretending like you’re fine when, really, all you want is for mingyu to make good on every dirty promise he’s whispered in your ear. and you know he will.

It all started with a deal.

No emotions. No attachments. Just a bit of fun and company in the late hours. Jay was every bit the gentleman, respectful of the boundaries you set. He was calm, composed, and always took care of things without crossing the line. You appreciated that about him, his quiet dominance—something that never screamed control, but rather, a gentle guidance that made you feel secure. He didn’t smother you; he just knew how to be there.

You didn’t expect to feel anything beyond the surface. But slowly, things began to shift.

It happened so subtly that you couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment you began falling for him. Maybe it was the way he’d bring you your favorite coffee without asking, or the way his fingers would linger a second too long when he brushed a strand of hair from your face. And Jay… well, he started falling first, though he hid it well. You noticed the way he looked at you—like he was seeing something beyond what you showed him. He became a bit more protective, a bit more dominant in ways that made your heart race.

It was during one of those colder nights that you got sick. You tried to push through it, ignoring the weakness in your body, but Jay noticed right away. He didn’t ask; he insisted. He made you stay over at his apartment, not taking no for an answer.

“You’re staying here,” he had said firmly, already leading you inside, his hand on your lower back. You argued, reminded him about the deal, about the fact that you weren’t supposed to be involved like this. But Jay didn’t care. “Don’t argue. You need rest, and I’ll feel better knowing you’re here.”

With a frustrated sigh, you eventually relented. His apartment was quiet, a reflection of him—minimalistic, but warm. Before he left, he handed you one of his white blouses. “Wear this if you’re uncomfortable,” he said, his voice low and a bit softer than usual. You took it, not really thinking much about it, until later that night.

You found yourself alone in his apartment, your body wrapped in his oversized blouse, the fabric carrying his scent. The sleeves hung past your hands, and for some reason, it made you feel… safe. As you wandered around, feeling the cool air brush against your bare legs, you realized something was changing between the two of you. Something deeper than you were willing to admit.

Later that night, after you had finally drifted into sleep on his couch, Jay came back. The door clicked shut softly, and he stepped inside, his movements quiet. He paused when he saw you, lying there in his shirt, hair splayed across the cushion, your lips parted slightly as you slept. For a moment, he just stood there, admiring the scene in front of him. The faint moonlight from the window cast a glow over your sleeping figure, and Jay’s heart swelled with something he couldn’t deny any longer.

He didn’t wake you. Instead, he just watched, leaning against the doorframe, the urge to reach out and touch you almost overwhelming. But he resisted, knowing this was dangerous territory. He was already too far gone.

Things came to a head a few days later, during an argument neither of you saw coming.

“I can’t handle this, Jay,” you said, your voice sharp with frustration. “You’re giving me too much affection, too much attention. We had a deal, remember?”

Jay didn’t respond right away. He just stood there, looking at you, his gaze intense and unwavering. His silence made you even more flustered. You expected him to argue, to push back, to defend himself. But he didn’t. Instead, he just stepped closer, his eyes locking with yours, so deep and unreadable that it made your breath catch.

“Say something,” you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady.

But he didn’t. He just nodded, the tiniest movement, like he understood. Like he knew exactly what you were feeling, even if you didn’t.

And that’s when it hit you. Whatever you said wouldn’t stop him. Jay was hooked—more than you realized, more than you even were. His actions spoke louder than any argument you could have. He wasn’t going to stop caring for you, wasn’t going to stop being there, even if it scared the both of you.

Because, deep down, you knew—he was far more hooked on you than you were on him.

Mean Girls (2004) dir. Mark Waters

Beautiful Creatures | Preview

❝We’re all beautiful creatures of the night, vampires and witches.❞

PAIRING! vampire!kim seonwoo x witch!female reader

GENRES! fluff, angst, vampire au, witch au, kinda strangers to lovers, second chance romance?, a sprinkle of forbidden love, reincarnation au

WORD COUNT! almost 3k

WARNINGS! mc is an orphan, physical violence, prejudiced behaviors from the town’s people, death, suicide? (this will make sense later), i think that’s it? lmk if i missed anything

SYNOPSIS! in the gloomy town of Eldritch Cove, a coven of witches resides deep in the marsh, never to make contact with outsiders, it's safer this way. But when a mysterious young man passes through town everything changes

AUTHOR’S NOTE! hi! please note that every setting and character in the story is of my own creation therefore i have copyright so please do not steal my ideas and claim them as your own! hope you enjoy the preview for my upcoming fic!

The fog clung low to the ground, swirling around your ankles as you moved carefully through the marsh, your basket half-filled with herbs. The air was heavy with the scent of wet earth and the distant hum of cicadas. The marsh was a place of silence and secrets, where even the wind dared not whisper too loudly.

Beside you, Winnifred, with her wild, curly red hair, bounded through the mist like a fox on the hunt, her bright green eyes gleaming with curiosity. She was the youngest in the coven, her energy and playfulness a stark contrast to your more cautious demeanor.

“Winnie, slow down. You’ll scare off the moonwort,” you called softly, your gaze scanning the ground for the pale silver leaves of the plant you and her sought.

Winnifred stopped mid-step, a mischievous smile spreading across her freckled face. “It’s not going anywhere, Y/N! The moonwort isn’t afraid of me. Look, I’ve already found some!” She darted forward, pulling up a clump of the shimmering herb with a triumphant grin, holding it up for you to see.

You sighed, though a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “You’re lucky Mother isn’t here to see you uprooting the plants like that.”

Winnifred rolled her eyes. “Mother always says to respect the marsh, but I swear, sometimes I think it respects me more than I respect it.” She winked, dropping the moonwort into your basket.

As you reached down to gather your own handful, a sudden chill ran up your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. The marsh grew eerily still, and the familiar sounds of insects and croaking frogs faded into silence. Something was different.

“Winnie,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “Do you feel that?”

Winnifred straightened, her playful expression faltering as she glanced around. “Feel what?”

You couldn’t quite explain it, but the marsh—the very air around you—felt charged, like a storm about to break. There was a presence, something close, something ancient. Your heart quickened, though you didn’t know why.

Without a word, you rose to your feet, your eyes scanning the fog. Then, through the thick mist, you saw it: a figure standing at the edge of the marsh, half-hidden by the shadows of the trees. He stood unnaturally still, too still, like a predator waiting for its prey.

Winnifred saw him too. “Who’s that?” she whispered, her tone no longer playful.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the man—tall, but not too tall, and draped in black clothing that seemed to blend into the surrounding mist. His hair was dark, his face pale against the shadowy backdrop. But it was his eyes—sharp, deep, and old, far older than the body they belonged to—that caught your breath. They were fixed on you, as though he had been waiting for this very moment.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a strange mix of fear and…something else. A flicker of recognition, though you had never seen him before in your life.

“Come on, let’s go,” Winnifred urged, tugging at your sleeve. “He’s giving me the creeps.”

You didn’t move, your gaze locked with his. Something in those eyes tugged at the edges of your memory, a sensation you couldn’t explain. The air between you felt electric, like the space itself was charged with something ancient, something that had always been there but just now revealed itself.

The man took a step forward, and you instinctively stepped back, your breath catching.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

For a moment, the man said nothing, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile, as though your question amused him. “I could ask you the same,” he replied, his voice mellifluous, smooth, and strangely familiar, like the echo of a dream you couldn’t quite place.

You frowned, confused. There was something unsettling in his presence, but there was also an undeniable pull, like a thread that connected you to him, a thread you didn’t know existed until now.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, unsure why you were compelled to answer at all.

“Y/N…” The way he said your name sent a shiver down your spine, as though he had spoken it a thousand times before. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Again?” your confusion deepened. You had never seen him before in your life, and yet…there was that flicker of recognition, as though a part of you knew him, a part buried deep within you, hidden beneath layers of forgotten memories.

“Who are you?” you asked again, more insistent this time.

The man’s smile faded, replaced by something softer, almost melancholic. He stepped closer, his dark eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve been searching for you.”

Winnifred stepped in front of you, her red hair flaming in the dim light. “You need to stay back,” she warned, though her voice trembled. “We’re not afraid of you.”

The man’s gaze flicked briefly to Winnifred, then back to you, almost as if he hadn’t heard the younger witch’s warning. “I mean you no harm,” he said softly. “But we need to talk… do you—”

Your mind raced. Who was this stranger, and why did he speak to you as if you had known each other for lifetimes? The strange connection, the way your heart seemed to leap into your throat at the sight of him—none of it made sense.

But before you could ask another question, Winnifred grabbed your arm, pulling you back. “Y/N, let’s go. Now.”

The fog seemed to thicken as the tension in the air grew. You hesitated for a moment longer, staring into the man’s eyes. There was a sadness there, a longing that felt as old as the marsh itself, but something in you told you to trust your sister’s instincts. This was too much, too strange.

Without another word, you allowed Winnifred to pull you away, your heart pounding as you retreated into the mist. But even as you fled, you could still feel the man’s gaze on you, lingering like a shadow.

And somewhere deep within you, a memory stirred—faint, fleeting, but unmistakable.

As you and Winifred disappeared into the safety of the trees, the man remained still, his eyes fixed on the place where you had stood. He could feel it—the stirring of your power, the faintest glimmer of recognition in your eyes.

You didn’t remember him. Not yet.

But you would.

Soon.

The mist began to lift slightly as you and Winnifred made your way back through the winding paths of the marsh. The air was still heavy with moisture, and the twilight sky was slowly darkening, casting long shadows between the trees. Winnifred walked ahead, her pace faster than usual, her usually playful nature subdued as she kept glancing back at you.

You, for your part, were quiet, still shaken by the encounter but not afraid—more curious, unsettled by the strange man and the unexplainable pull you’d felt in his presence. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something familiar about him, though you didn't know what.

“Who do you think he was?” Winnifred asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was softer now, laced with worry. “He didn’t seem like just a normal person. Not from around here, that’s for sure.”

You shook your head, your brows furrowed. “I don’t know, Winnie. He wasn’t like anyone I’ve met before. There was something different about him.”

Winnifred chewed her lip thoughtfully, slowing her pace so she could walk beside you. “Different how?”

You hesitated, struggling to put your feelings into words. “He felt… familiar, but not in a way I can explain. Like I should know him, but I don’t.”

“Maybe he’s from another coven and he’s just passing through town?” Winnifred suggested, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“Maybe,” you murmured, but you didn’t believe that. There was something far older, far deeper in the way he had looked at you. Not just like someone passing through, but someone who had been searching for you.

Winnifred frowned, casting a sidelong glance at you. “He didn’t scare you, did he?”

You shook your head. “No, not really. But we don’t know him, and that makes him dangerous enough.” you didn’t want to admit how calm you had felt around the stranger, even as your instincts had warned you to stay away.

By the time you reached the large wooden cabin nestled deep within the marsh, the sun had dipped below the horizon. The soft glow of lanterns illuminated the windows, and the scent of sage and rosemary drifted from the porch, where dried herbs hung in bundles.

Winnifred opened the door first, her tension easing slightly as the familiar warmth of the home welcomed you both in. The sound of quiet conversation drifted from the kitchen, where your other sisters were likely preparing dinner, but it was Mother who stood in the hallway, her tall frame draped in a dark cloak as though she had been waiting for you.

Mother’s sharp eyes instantly fell on you two girls, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “You’re late,” she said, her voice calm but always carrying an undercurrent of authority. “I trust you found what you were looking for.”

“We did,” you answered, holding up your basket of herbs.

But Winnifred, ever eager to share news, didn’t wait another moment. “Mother, we saw someone in the marsh! A man! He was just standing there, staring at Y/N! He was strange! He had these dark clothes, and these weird eyes, and—”

The moment Winnifred said it, Mother’s smile faltered, her expression tightening as she fixed her gaze on you. “A man?” she repeated, her voice strained. “Where?”

“In the deeper part of the marsh,” you said cautiously. “Near the black pool. He didn’t try to harm us, but—”

Mother stepped forward, cutting you off with a sharp look. “And what did he look like, exactly?” Her voice, though controlled, had an edge to it that sent a cold shiver down your spine.

Winnifred, oblivious to the shift in mood, eagerly described him. “Average height, dark hair, pale skin. He was wearing black, and his eyes were kind of… intense. He looked like he knew Y/N, or something.”

At this, Mother’s expression grew even more severe. She stared hard at you, as though searching your face for some hidden truth. “And you didn’t recognize him?”

You shook your head, your stomach tightening. “No. But there was something strange about him. It didn’t feel like the first time I’d seen him, but I don’t know why.”

Mother’s lips thinned, and for a moment, you thought you saw fear flicker in her eyes—a rare and unsettling sight. But just as quickly as it appeared, Mother’s face smoothed into an unreadable mask. She turned away, busying herself with adjusting the herbs hanging by the doorway.

“I don’t like strangers wandering around the marsh,” Mother said, her voice clipped. “Especially not near the black pool. It’s a dangerous place.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Mother, is something wrong? You’ve always said the marsh belongs to us. Why would anyone else be here?”

Mother turned to face you again, her expression unreadable. “The marsh is our home, yes, but it draws many things—creatures, spirits, people—things we can’t always control. You should be more careful. This man could be dangerous. We don’t know who he is, or what he wants.”

“But he didn’t feel dangerous,” you pressed, your instincts telling you there was more to this than Mother was letting on. “You seem upset.”

“I don’t like strangers here,” Mother repeated firmly, her voice closing off the conversation. She stepped forward, placing her hands on your shoulders, her touch firm but comforting. “Promise me you’ll stay away from him if you see him again. I don’t care who he is, or what he says. He doesn’t belong here.”

You searched your mother’s face, but all you saw was a hard resolve and a trace of something else—fear, or maybe something deeper. You nodded slowly, though you didn’t believe for a second that Mother was telling you the full truth. “I’ll be careful.”

“Good,” Mother said, releasing you and turning away. “Now, both of you get cleaned up for dinner.”

As Mother disappeared down the hallway, Winnifred leaned closer to you, her voice low. “That was weird, right? She seemed really upset.”

“Yeah,” you whispered back, your mind racing. “She’s hiding something. I don’t know what, but she knows more about that man than she’s letting on.”

Winnifred’s wide eyes were full of curiosity. “Do you think she’s met him before?”

You shook your head, but doubt gnawed at you. “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

As you made your way to the kitchen to join your sisters, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the encounter in the marsh was only the beginning of something much bigger. And whoever that man was, he had stirred something within you—something that even Mother couldn’t protect you from.

You had to know the truth.

© 2024 hoonven, all rights reserved. i do not give permission to modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize my works on any platform

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