#and when i lost half of the animation when i was !! done !! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uzurimisery · 3 months ago

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bitter frost, honey i'm coming home. / logan howlett x reader / nsfw

warnings: MDNI, angst, p in v, mention of vomit, makeup sex, death (not character), thoughts of suicidal ideation, sappy emotional sex, old man cums quick, Logan yells at reader, smoking, knotting (not a/b/o)

wc: 9k

A/N: I do not know brevity. This was only meant to be 4k max

It’s cold on the ranch now. The first frost came barrelling through, ice crystals hanging on the barbed wire fences and freezing over the troughs out in the pasture. Days on the ranch start early, often before dawn, the first rays of light peeking over the crest of the mountains, painting it pink and golden. He’d step out into the crisp morning air and go to the barn, where he’d feed the animals. The chickens were too loud if he didn’t feed them first, the two roosters crowing till he did, so they went first. After the chickens, it was time for the two horses and the cows. After three years of doing it, he moved with practiced precision. Scattering hay, pouring oats, and spreading seeds are all mindless tasks.

Logan had to venture out on Weston, a reliable but honorary son of a bitch, with an icebreaker to free up the water for the herd. Then, he had to head into the barns and ensure they weren’t frozen. He should pull out the heated troughs, kept convincing himself he’d do it next weekend 27 weekends ago, and now it was necessary. His back ached a bit at the thought. Pulling out all the equipment and placing it was a full day's job with just himself doing it. He was getting a fucking headache just thinking about it.

It’s not that he wasn’t strong enough. He was just old. He was far too old to run a ranch independently with so little help. Each winter felt a bit long as if there was too much work. Maybe he had grown lazier, too, over the years. No more fighting and not working at Xavier’s school; he was just living on the land now. Cattle ranching. Felt like an All-American cowboy when he had on wranglers, flannel, Justin boots, and some hat he had picked up at the tractor supply store a year back. The hat had seen better days, and the ridge was beaten up and dented from all the times he’d fold it in half and tuck it into his back pocket. He didn’t bother with a jacket, be far too warm that way.

The ranch was quiet, save for the sound of cattle and horses. Now, the yellow pasture stretches out from the start of his property line on the road to near the base of the mountains. His little private valley. At first, the quiet made him anxious, like he was waiting for another catastrophe to come and tear it apart. That he’d wake up with someone trying to kill him, and all too often, he’d close his eyes and envision all the torture he’d been through—too much pain and suffering in his life.

The quiet also gave him too much time to think about everything he’d done. Everything he’d lost. He was a man who had known mainly suffering for all his life. Sometimes, he felt he didn’t deserve this peace, this serenity. It was dissonant. He was a fighter, a soldier, a weapon made human to kill and kill and kill again until the only color he knew was red, the only scent he smelt iron, till the collar around his neck pulled so tight it’d break it.

His hands ached, claws threatening to come out as he worked himself up, the sting of vomit on his tongue. The back of his knuckles split open like they weren’t even there, like there was no skin or muscle for the adamantine to cut through. Like it didn’t hurt every time it did.

Weston whinnied under him, tired of lazily trotting around the barn to check for coyote marks. He wanted to gallop around the outskirts of the land while Logan sniffed out any danger to the herd. Didn’t need a cattle dog when he was a glorified one.

“Yeah yeah, asshole.” His spurs dig into Weston’s sides, urging the horse into a gallop. He might as well get the morning round done now.

The horse broke into a gallop, bouncing Logan in the saddle, wind whipping him in the face. For a moment, the noise in his head quieted. There was no constant thought of you, just what he had to do after rounds.

As they reached the fence line, Logan scanned the horizon, senses on high alert. He knew he was never looking for just coyotes or stray animals; he was always searching for something more. A threat that might never come. Some bullshit hopped-up mutant on a vendetta or some power-hungry human looking to use him.

Now, at a canter, the two patrolled the whole property line as he took deep breaths, inhaling the cold air, trying to focus on the present. On the life he had here. Not what he had left behind. But the past is never far behind, and he had so much past to run from. It would always be near him, lurking in the shadows. The ranch could never drown it out, cover it up, and make him forget. Maybe it was just another reminder he could never truly escape who he was, no matter how hard he tried.

“Easy now,” he murmured, pulling Weston to a stop near the far edge of the property. He could see everything from here. It was beautiful and peaceful, but all he could feel was the weight of what he was missing.

Sometimes, he swore he smelt your perfume on the breeze.

“Let’s head back.” Weston turned around, ready to run the way back toward the barn. This routine was the only thing that kept him sane. The work. The responsibilities. Barely enough to keep him busy but not enough to keep him from sinking too far into the darkness in his thoughts.

He’d gotten lazy the past week and fallen behind on the hay maintenance, so he’d need to buck it today. Move it all from being covered under some tarps to the hay barn. Move them all one by one. He was glad that 150 pounds felt like nothing to him in times like that.

The chicken coop also needed a roof repair. The last storm did a number on it. Logan bought the supplies the last time he was in town. It just meant stripping the old one off, resecuring the waterproof liner, and hammering the steel roof. Maybe he’d add some more insulation next weekend in preparation for the winter.

Today was going to be a long one.

───※ ·❆· ※───

A knock on the door echoed in the ranch house, slicing through the quiet thrum of the fridge kicking on and the TV volume on low. He wasn’t expecting company as he stopped mid-swig of his beer, brow furrowed. The neighbors knew by now to leave him the hell alone and had enough run-ins to steer clear of him unless it was an emergency. There were no ranch hands due to arrive until next Monday.

His boots thudded with heavy steps as he rose from the couch and walked over. The tips of his claws cut through his skin, the metallic ring soft as he reached the door.

He grabbed the handle, ready for it to be blown off the hinges by someone knocking it down.

“Logan, it’s me.” That's a voice he’d recognize anywhere, unmistakable and achingly familiar. The one he longed to hear to the point it drove him crazy. The one he dreamed of every night, of all the terrible things it had said to him because of what he’d done. Heard it in his sleep and his waking hour like a fucking ghost haunting him.

“Can you open the door already? I know you’re in there.”

He blinked as he did, trying to grapple with his emotions brought to light by the reality of you standing there.

“What?” his voice cracked. “What are you doing here?”

You looked so sad, a deep sorrow in your eyes—the kind that had been there when the two of you had argued the night before he left. It made him feel like he missed something crucial like you had lost a part of yourself—one that settled deep in your bones and moved in your muscles and ligaments.

“Charles told me where you were.”

His throat felt painfully tight, as if the words were squeezing his neck. He didn’t expect this- hadn’t expected you to ever ask Xavier where he was and come see him.

Neither of you moved, the door half-open as he stood blocking it.

“You ain’t supposed to be here.” His tone was gruff. He had been smoking more since coming to the ranch, trying to dull his brain.

Your voice was steady but filled with so much sadness it made him want to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Plead with you to transgress his sins. Go to confession and tell all his wrongdoings. “I needed to see you again.”

He looked out into the driveway, seeing nothing but emptiness.

“Did you fly over here? You don’t even have your suit on.”

“It’s fine,” you said with a shrug, “it’s dark out anyways.”

He stared at you. The porch lights set a soft, warm glow on your skin, the panes of your face made clear. You looked beautiful, mesmerizingly so, as you stared up at him.

“You gonna let me in or not?”

“Don’t get comfortable,” he grumbled, his tone softer now that you were closer. He opened the door wider, letting you walk past him.

He had the fire going, for which you were grateful. Flying without your suit always left you frigid afterward, especially since Logan had taken to living in the middle of nowhere nestled in the Rocky Mountains. You had always been jealous Storm didn’t have to deal with that.

The ranch house Logan was living in was quaint. It was a three-bedroom, two-story house built in the 1880s that the previous owners renovated in recent years to feature modern amenities. The floors creaked as you walked, clearly still the original hardwood. He hadn’t done much decorating. It was clear that Charles had been the one to decorate the place for him.

He wasn’t ready to see you. Ready to talk about why he left you in the middle of the night four years ago.

You quickly found your way into the living and dining room. Logan had left pocket doors open in these two separate rooms. Sitting on the couch, you could see through to the kitchen. A large pot was on the gas stove, the flames flickering on low. It smelled like beef stew.

Logan lingered by the entrance to the living room off of the entry space, unsure of what to do next. Watching you settle into the beat-up couch made him feel a mess of relief and anxiety. He was glad to see you were okay. Your hair was shorter, and you must have cut it after he left at some point. Grey hairs were coming through at your temples.

“It’s, uh, good to see you.” Having his eyes on you like this made you feel small again. Like he was leaving you all over again.

Logan nodded, swallowing hard. “You too.”

You smiled at him, and it hurt. Cut him like a thousand glass pieces over and over again. He was getting sandblasted and healing through it.

He walked into the kitchen, trying to distance himself from you and his feelings, and stirred the stew. “I wasn’t expecting company,” he commented his back to you.

Your hands wrung together automatically, anxiety creeping up your throat. Maybe it was a mistake to come here and see him again when he had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do to you the night he left. “It’s fine, I don’t need to eat.”

The wooden spoon clatters against the rest, and he puts it down harshly, making you wince. “Nonsense. I can hear your fucking teeth chattering from here.”

“I’m fine, really. It's just wind chill.”

“Just take the damn food!” Logan bellowed, his hand slamming down against the counter, breathing heavily. “Just take the damn food.”

You were silent for a moment, reeling. He’d never been like this with you before. “Okay.”

Logan closed his eyes, took a deep breath through his nose, and pushed it out of his mouth, trying to steady himself. He didn’t mean to lash out at you, to snap, but just seeing you again put him in confrontation with his past and his own feelings. It was more than he could handle. He grabbed a second bowl from the cabinet, ladling the stew between the both of them. Even after all this time, he took care to give you more potatoes than beef and half his carrots.

“Come sit at the table. Don’t want soup on the damn couch.”

You moved quietly, always did. It unnerved him when he first met you. Your mutation lets you float more than walk and never hear any footfall when you move. He sat across from you, and you could finally get a good look at him. The years had never been kind to him, but he seemed older now than ever. The past three had been the worst of his life. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and the wrinkles on his face seemed more pronounced.

The silence between you was thick with unspoken words, cut only by the scrapping of metal spoons against ceramic bowls. The sound echoed in the quiet house with the TV now shut off.

As you finished up your food, he looked antsy. His left leg bounced up and down, hand strumming on the table.

“Thank you for the stew.” you pipped up, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, well, you look like you needed it. " Despite all these years, he still cared for you and loved you. It was evident to you.

You both sat there momentarily, the silence returning but now filled with different tension. The possibility of reconciliation hurts more than anger.

“Why did you come here?” he puzzled. “After all this time, why now?”

You tapped against the bowl, inconsistent drumming on the sharp ceramic cutting against his ears. “I needed to see you.”

“Bullshit, what do you want”

“Jesus, Logan,’ you finally snapped, lightning crackling as you did. He acted like the wounded party when he was the one who had left you. “Am I not allowed to want to see you?”

You didn’t mean for it to happen. Far past the age that your powers slipping up due to your emotions should be embarrassing. Static electricity builds up around you.

“You left,” you continued, to reel in your emotions, to keep them in check. “You left me without a word, without an explanation, and now you’re demanding an answer as to why I'm here? Do you have any idea what you did to me?”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling as he looked to the side. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t have this conversation with you. Not now. The night he left, you felt like he was ripping out his own heart, running from his feelings and the truth about the world around him.

It was like he was on autopilot as he stood from the table, knocking his chair off balance as he went. Like a bull in a china shop, that’s how he moved. He could hear you talking and feel the vibrations in the air, but none of the words meant anything. You were begging him to just sit down and talk to you, a pleading whine in your tone.

But he couldn’t.

Just like the last time he saw you, he walked out the door with nothing but the clothes on his back into the night down the porch steps.

The screen door slammed shut as you walked out after him, your body trembling with the intensity of your emotions, your hair standing on end from the static. He never told you what was wrong or why he did what he did. He just left. Tears blur your vision as your back hits the siding of the house, sinking down.

“Logan!” you yelled, calling out after him, voice breaking. “Please just talk to me!”

He didn’t turn around. His figure grew smaller, illuminated by the porch lights flickering from your lack of control. It felt like your heart was breaking again. The ache of his absence, familiar and painful, made all the more unbearable by seeing him again.

───※ ·❆· ※───

“I’m staying here till you talk to me.”

When he finally came back to the house, knowing all too damn well, he had to take care of the ranch, that was the first thing you told him. He didn’t like it but found it hard to argue with you and Charles. It was impossible to change Charles’ mind; he knew you were too stubborn to leave. So he let it happen.

Letting you sleep in the guest bedroom across from his was easier. It felt like he slept better since you had shown up. Even if you woke him up in the middle of the night, the floorboards creaking in protest under your weight as you went pee around 4:15 a.m. every night.

He’d lie in his bed, now fully aware of the space in it next to him, listening to the sounds of the house. The gentle rise and fall of your breathing, the ticking of the clock downstairs, the wind outside. He would never admit it, but you being there gave him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in years. The night terrors that plagued him endlessly seemed to ease. For the first time in a long time, he could close his eyes without fear of being swallowed up and spit out by the past.

During the day, you had a tentative routine with him, and he woke up earlier than you did. It had only been a week since you had shown up. You had left at one point to fly back to the school and get some of your belongings. Every morning, you’d go out to the chicken coop, collect the eggs, and make breakfast. It was nothing fancy, some variation of a bread product, eggs, and a protein. Sometimes, it was pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Other times, it was steak and eggs. Today, it was omelets.

You’d help out in other ways, too. Go out and move the steer to a different part of their sectioned-off pasture. You were faster at de-ice the troughs, flying, and whatnot, so he let you take over that job. It was hard work, and your muscles ached like they hadn’t for a long time.

Logan had to admit it’s helpful having you on the ranch. He’s got a greenhouse and some therapy project Charles talked him into, but that’s been looking worse for wear. The weather pattern changed the past couple of weeks, and there’s been an inversion that has left the valley with no direct sunlight. All the plants inside had started to wilt and were on the path to dying, not that he cared. He’d survive without some tomatoes. Then you threw open the door, solar energy pouring out from your palms, and they’d perk right up. You had that effect on plants, hell, people too.

Something about you, even if you didn’t have your mutation, would have made you shine as bright as the fucking sun to anyone. All wild curls and big smiles, a helping hand to those in need—just one of those people who made the world a better place by breathing. You always said you were just doing your part, but god, there was so much good, so much sweetness in you. If he took a bite, he’d even get a cavity. Seeing you wrapped up in an old wool sweater of his, bent over coaxing a plant back to life, made him feel so ashamed of himself.

“The plants in the greenhouse look a lot better this week.”

Some of the leaves crunched underfoot, but most of them were soggy in the mud as you walked over to the steer barn where he was working. One of the steers had a rock impacting his back hoof, and he had to get it out. Logan had just finished spraying it with salicylic acid and wrapping it as you walked in.

“Like I said, you don’t need to be doing all that.” He grumbled, standing from the stool and leading the cow back to the enclosure.

Where he spoke dissent and anger, you heard what he really felt. Fear. He was still that little boy in his father's manor.

“It’s not a problem.”

It hurts to be this close to him and not have him, to know that things could just be better if he were honest.

You'd cook him dinner in the evening, sit at the old wooden table, and comment about the school. About what you’d been up to. You steered away from the elephant in the room. It was best to talk about the mundane things. Sometimes, you’d slip and tell him something more personal than you meant to. He didn’t add much to the conversation because he hadn’t been doing much since leaving you, but he’d chime in about the animals. About the fox that kept creeping around the chicken coop.

Logan still had moments of withdrawal, times when he’d just disappear from the ranch, and you wouldn’t see him till the morning. It was hard on you, a reminder of just how much had changed between the two of you. You used to come home to him after a day of teaching and collapse into his arms on the couch. He’d offer you a sip of his beer, something dark and hoppy, and you’d taste it and declare it’s gross. Logan had told you one day, he’d find a beer you liked, and he’d stock the fridge with it. The closest you’d gotten was some Mangocart IPA that he told you was meant for 17-year-olds, and you told him to go fuck himself.

Healing wasn’t a straight path forward. And healing couldn’t start until you cut out the festering parts. You can never go backward, but you must go forward while looking at the past.

The two of you sat on the porch tonight, twilight hues, deep indigo taking over the sky, and the stars coming out. The first night you were out here with him, you couldn’t stop staring at them. Had a whole thing about them since they charged up your mutation, but he just thought you looked gorgeous. Older but still gorgeous.

That was another thing that scared him. You are aging. He didn’t know how long he had left to live, hell, if he could even die. Some wounds should have killed him many times over, but they never did. They never do. But he's seen you bleeding out and broken after a fight with Magneto, a laceration so severe you had to self-cauterize the wound on the spot and passed out multiple times while doing so. You were getting older, and he was staying the same.

You were 24 when the two of you first met. Your parents were good folks, never held any bias towards mutants, and helped you learn to control your powers and keep yourself hidden from the government when they were still rounding up mutants. The only reason you got found out was because of Cerebro and Charles. With so little training, it should have scared him how strong you were back then. A few years with Charles, and you were deadly. Deadly, but a pacifist.

The air was cold. You could see your breath as you rocked in the rocking chair he had out there. Wafts of pungent tobacco hit your nose as he lit up a cigar. He had stopped when you lived together. You looked over at him, feeling the weight of his eyes on you. As soon as your own met his, he looked back out into the night sky. The silence was heavy.

“Do you ever miss it?” you asked softly.

“Miss what?” he drew another drag from his cigar.

“The school. The kids. The…purpose.”

“I think about the students daily. It was good work. Important work. But…” Logan trailed off, searching for the right words. What were the right words to say without telling you everything? “It got complicated.”

You nodded, understanding the unspoken part of his statement, drawing your knees to your chest. “It’s still important. And the kids still need you.”

After all this time, you still wanted him. Despite every wrong he had done to you and all the harm he caused you. The most pathetic part of him was ready to take your kindness, love, and care and bathe in it. Draw you back into the bottomless pit of his life and ruin you like he had all the others.

You saw him clench his jaw. A twisting wave of guilt and self-loathing ate him up. A man made to destroy and he was afraid to destroy you too.

“The kids will be fine without me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Well, they’ve been fine without me so far.” He shot back, but there was a hollow note in his voice. There wasn’t any gumption behind it.

“They’ve managed, but that doesn’t mean they’re fine. You gave them something no one else could, Logan. They relied on you, they needed you-they need you.” You corrected gently, reaching out to touch his thigh. He was always so warm.

He took another drag, blowing the smoke away from you. “They’ll move on. They’re better off without me.”

“They didn’t move on, and they aren't okay without you.”

Logan looked down at your hand on his thigh, his expression a mixture of pain and something else. Something so soft, buried deep beneath the layers of hardened exterior. He didn’t pull away, but you could see his temptation rising.

“I’m not me without you, Logan. Please just talk to me.” Your grip tightened, the denim rough under your fingers, and you begged him to let you in again. To tell you why he left you, why you haven't heard from him since.

He needed to keep you safe from himself.

“You should leave.” Standing from his chair, he threw open the screen door, letting it slam shut behind him as he walked over to the living room.

You rose after him, chasing him into the house, your heart pounding in your chest. The floorboards cracked up the both of you, echoing in the house. He moved with a desperate, frantic everything. His broad shoulders tense as if he could outrun the conversation you were about to have.

“Why won’t you let me care about you!” You cried out, voice breaking, trembling with the weight of the emotions you've been holding back. He didn’t stop, didn’t turn around, but kept going, and your words spilled out like a damn bursting. “I am begging you to let me in, to let me love you, to stop pushing me away like you do every time! You left me. In the middle of the night, you left. I woke up, and you were gone. And all I have ever asked of you is to let me love you.”

From behind, he looked like a man barely holding together as he reached the living room.

“I don’t want you to.” he ground out. Each word hurt to say, and he hated lying to you.

“We both know that's a lie, Logan. I’m not stupid. I know you love me. Just please let me in. Why won't you let me in?”

“Because I don’t want you to wind up fucking dead!” His voice reverberated off the walls. “Everyone and everything I have ever loved is buried six feet fucking deep, and I don’t want you to join the shithole graveyard that is my life.”

Logan’s voice cut deep through the room, his shoulder hunched as he leaned over the back of the couch. The sob was settling in his chest as he tried to keep it at bay. He didn’t want you to see him crying. It was like he could see you now, lying in that grave, another name added to the long list of people he’d killed or gotten killed.

“You think leaving me is protecting me? You think that by pushing me away, you're saving me?” You hated being an angry crier, the tears welling in your eyes. “I’m already in this. I’ve been in this for years. You leaving didn’t save me—it fucking broke me.”

“I just,” his breath was shaky, knuckles white against the couch as the wood splintered from his grip. “I can’t lose you too.”

You stepped closer, a hesitant hand hanging in the air a moment before it made contact. Slipping over his back, meeting your other hand in the front as you hugged him from behind.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, voice soft and thick with sadness. “I’m right here, and I’m not leaving. I’m not letting you leave this time.”

He shook his head, tilting it backward to keep the tears from falling. “You don’t understand. I keep telling you that I’m cursed, that everyone who gets close to me, everyone that I love,” the crack in his voice hurt you, “ends up dead. And I can’t let that happen to you.”

“You’re not cursed,” you mumbled into his back. “You’ve been through hell, but you deserve a chance at happiness and love.”

His shoulders shook as the sob he had been holding back finally broke free. He crumples against the back of the couch, wrenching at his waist as his head meets his hands. You went down with him, following the curve of his back with your front, holding him tightly as he cried.

“I’m here,” you cooed into his ear, your tears cresting down your cheeks. “I’m here, baby.”

“I don’t deserve you.” he choked out between sobs.

You tightened your hold on him, wishing that the pressure could soothe his aches and worries and make him feel whole again. That it would wash away all the suffering he’s been through and wipe it from his mind, even if you knew that pain was part of what made him him.

“Yes, you do. You deserve love and happiness and to find that with me.”

“I’m just going to hurt you again, like I have before.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me-”

“God dammit, I’ve killed people,” he stood up straight to face you, his voice jumping in volume, shaking you off balance. As you stumbled, he reached out, a hand on your hip to steady you. “I’ve killed so many people that it’d take them years to find all the bodies that I’ve fucking piled up in my 230 years of life. I am a fucking mess of a man who is so goddamn broken, and I don’t want to drag you down in the mess that I have made.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes darting around your face as he did. His beard was grown out, the greys now outnumbered the black, jaw trembling as he spoke.

“And just when I think I can start to be okay without you in my life, you show up, doll, and it ruins all that progress I made, if I even fucking made any in the first place. Make me realize just how damn much I need you. And how much I am so fucking scared of losing you because I can’t take it if I do.”

You reached up, hand cupping his face against the scruff of his beard. “I know that I’ve always known the life you lived before meeting Charles, and it doesn’t scare me. What scares me is the thought of you shutting me out and living out here on your own till you die. You’re not this terrible monster you think you are. Yes, you’ve done terrible things, but you’ve also done so much good in the world. You’ve saved just as many lives as you’ve taken.”

His eyes softened, tongue darting out to wet dry lips that stuck to his teeth.

“I can’t change who I am. I can’t be someone you deserve.”

“I’m not asking you to change.”

His other hand met your hip, both of them squeezing them tightly as his body shook. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” you promised. It was easy to promise that to him. As much as he needed you, you needed him. “You and me, we’ll get through this, and all that's to come.” You wrapped your arms around his neck.

For a long while, he just stared at you, listening to your heartbeat, his eyes searching yours, looking for any doubt or lie in what you said. Fearful you’d sweep the rug out from under him and leave. He couldn’t find any indication of the sort. All he could see was how much you loved him, how much the distance between you had hurt, and how badly you wanted him to let you in.

Logan let out a shaky breath before pulling you into a kiss. His facial hair tickled your face as your lips met. It was intense as his lips moved against yours, his hands sliding down to your ass to pick you up and hold you. You could feel all his longing, desperation, and the despair he had been holding back. His lips were chapped from working outside, not caring for for himself like he should be, but you didn’t mind.

It sent a shiver down your spine, having him so close after so long. He was so warm against you. Your hands slid up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. Logan groaned as you did, parting his mouth enough that your tongue could meet his.

The kiss deepened. You could taste the salt of his tears mingling with your own. His grip on your ass tightened, pulling you flush against his body like he was afraid you might disappear. His mouth moved hungrily against your own tongue, nearly forcing yours into submission as he held you close. He felt like a man starved.

You matched his intensity, trying to pour all your love and care into the kiss, your lips moving together in a way that felt both familiar and new. Hoping that enough of your love could spill into his cup and fill him so full it didn’t matter what spilled out his cracks. There’d be more poured in every second. A rediscovery of what the love between the two of you had been.

The two of you have to part far sooner than he liked, your lung capacity smaller than his own. His eyes were still wet with tears as he watched you, your chest rising and falling as you gulped down the air.

He leaned in towards you, placing a small kiss on your forehead as he rested his head against your own, moving your ass to rest against the back of the couch. You had changed your conditioner; it smelled like honey now, but no matter how fragrant it was, it couldn’t cut through the smell of you to him. You smelled like home.

“I’m sorry, doll.” his voice was a murmur against your scalp, heavy with regret. If hammer home the point, he’d bend nail after nail into soft wood, splitting it down the middle with how much metal he’d drive into it, just how sorry he was.

“I forgive you.”

Somehow, he gripped you tighter.“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“I know you will.” you pulled away from your position tucked against his chest to look up at him. “Kiss me again?”

He compiled without hesitation, his lips finding yours so tenderly. It was slow, deliberate, a melting of his body with yours. A promise, shared understanding, a soul tie that bound the two of you together.

Pulling away, his eyes met yours, and all he could see was love.

“You gonna take me to bed or what, big boy?”

Logan moved quickly up the stairs, taking two of them at a time. The promise of having you again was all the incentive he needed. He missed you. The way you felt under him, the way your pussy felt against his dick. How you fluttered around him every time he angled just right, how you smelt. He'd been jacking off to the thought of you for years now, and finally getting to have you again was like a fevered dream.

It wasn’t graceful the way he swung open his door and tossed you on the bed. You bounced a few times, mattress springs creaking as you did, before propping yourself up with an eyebrow raised, questioning him. No doubt he’d never hear the end of it; could hear you nagging him now. “A spring mattress? Logan? You’re made of metal. You can't have a spring mattress. You know this.”

You raised a finger, curling in towards yourself, beckoning him closer. He was a dog on a leash for you, moving like a well-trained animal. If they’d found you during Project K, he would have listened to every command they gave. Hell, he’d roll over right now if you told him to.

His knees enclosed your legs as he crawled over you, dog tags slipping out from his white tank top and dangling in your face. You smelled like him. His body wash and house, mixed with your fruit conditioner. Underneath it all, he could just smell you. The salt on your skin, the heady scent of your arousal. Logan lowered himself, tucking his head into your neck, and took a deep breath, groaning at the smell of you.

“Need you logan.”

That was something he’d missed. That pitched whine in the back of your throat you got when you were all horny and needy for him. Your voice turned raspy and low, caressed his ears so smoothly, and it made him want to purr like a fucking cat. The cadence just scratched an itch in his skull, setting his nerves on fire.

With a low growl, he cradled your face in his hands, thumbs tracing over your cheekbones, relishing the heat coming off your skin. The little bumps and scars that crossed your skin felt like home to him, a map he’d always know how to read no matter how many years passed. He leaned in, lips meeting yours, and it just felt right. It always felt right. He was stupid for trying to run from you all this time.

Your fingers laced in his hair on the nape of his neck, fingernails scraping his scalp. He groaned low, wanton, animalistic, your tongue meeting his own in a warm, wet dance. Logan devoured your lips, his hunger for you impossible to sate. It was messy, desperate, the way he clung to you. Grabbing your waist and lifting you closer to him, you felt like a feather to him, all soft flesh and curves against his hard angles.

He pulled away from the kiss, moving along your jawline and neck, stubble brushing your skin, making it more sensitive than it already was. Not stopping at your neck, he continued down over your collarbones and the expanse of your chest, all the skin he could access in the v-neck you wore. His fingers tugged at the hem of your sweater, pulling it over your head. You weren’t wearing a bra, perfect fucking nipples already perking up for him.

Logan leaned forward, his lips closing around your nipple. You gasped, back arching off the bed, the cool metal of his dog tags stinging against your skin. His tongue swirled around your nipple, fingers digging in at your waist before he pulled away with a pop, your chest heaving. You always looked so beautiful coming under him, over him, beside him, any position in which your naked body was near his and your flesh met in sinful desire.

“Oh,” his voice was ragged like he had fought all his battles and wars at once. “Oh god, doll…”

Testament and faith could be read about in books and studied. The Bible could teach you of Jesus’ preaching, but true faith, true trust in the unknown, could never be read about. It had to be felt and experienced. Logan slid to his knees, pulling your hips to the edge of the bed as he went. The fabric of your leggings felt too thick, separating him from his worship. He could smell you through them, through the lace of your panties. Heady, musky, a whine rumbles through his chest as his face falls against your thigh, nose pressed against the fast of your pussy. He breathes in deep, savoring your scent, his mouth watering like he can taste you.

“Doll, please,” he begged, opening his bloodshot eyes, his voice needy. “Let me taste you?”

“You don't have to ask, Logan,” you replied, smiling. “I’m yours, always yours.”

Logan hooked his finger into the waistband of your legging and panties, tugging them down in one swift motion. The cold air of the room met your skin as he did, but you didn't have long to think about it as he parted your legs, and his hot breath made contact with your pussy. His mouth hovered above for a moment, just wafting in your scent, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Fucking love the smell of this pussy.” he murmured to himself, a low growl, before he dove in, tongue parting your folds.

Wet muscle slid between you so easily before swirling around your sensitive clit, teasing it. His hot breath ghosted over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your fingers flew to his head, trying to find purchase in his hair as he went. Logan was ferocious. He went from your clit to your hole, delving inside you, trying to taste every inch of you. He grabbed your hips, tilting them upwards, making you squeal as he opened his mouth wider on you. Working himself into a frenzy, growling, the vibrations amplified by his adamantium skeleton. It rumbled through you, low and deep, like the base setting of a vibrator.

He takes a second, not quite remembering the perfect rhythm for you right away, but he gets to it quickly. Starts playing with your pussy like a fine-tuned machine the way he has you gushing in minutes. Your wetness coats his tongue, and that engine is firing.

Each stroke, each flick of his tongue on your clit brought you closer to ecstasy. The stars might power you, but he’d have you see them tonight. He devours your pussy like a man starved, primal hunger driving him. You couldn’t fight back, not that you wanted to. All that you could do was let him keep going. Let him take you to the edge. Push you past it. Over it. Your breath hitches, heart pounding in your chest so hard you feel it in your temples.

You push his head back, abdomen muscles flexing, a thick line of spit and arousal connecting Logan’s mouth to your pussy. His pupils were blown wide, eyes unfocused, hungry. A red, ruddy color spread across his cheeks. He felt hard enough to cut steel with his length, rutting against the bed. They move on their own accord, desperate for friction. There’s a growing wet spot of precum at the front of his darkening blue jeans.

“Cum for me, doll, please, I need to taste it.” That low vibration of his voice made you whine, hips bucking against him.

Logan spread his tongue flat and mercilessly kept going at your clit. Your moans grew louder, fingernails digging into his scalp as he manhandled you around like you weighed nothing. He gripped your hips tighter, tilting them further, ensuring he had better access to your pussy, before taking your clit in his mouth and sucking on it. An involuntary squeal came out of you as the added pressure made your back arch.

The suction made your stomach drop, and your toes curl. He kept swiping his tongue side to side, little pulses of suction in time. It left you writhing and gasping. One of his hands released your hips, moving so that he could slip two fingers into your wet hole. You were so soaked he met no resistance, walls clenching around his digits as he slid them in, desperate for something to clamp down on. The pads of his fingers brush against your G-spot, and the lights of the room glow brighter as you begin to lose control. You’re so close so quickly it feels like you can’t breathe from how overstimulating it was.

You push his head back, abdomen muscles flexing, a thick line of spit and arousal connecting Logan’s mouth to your pussy. His pupils were blown wide, eyes unfocused, hungry. A red, ruddy color spread across his cheeks. He felt hard enough to cut steel with his length, rutting against the bed. Your vision blurred, light filling your eyes, your only point of focus in the world, his mouth on your sensitive pussy.

“Taste so goddamn good,” he licked his lips, breaking the strand before diving back in. Your legs shook, thighs clamping down around his ears. You were so close, you could taste it. Logan picked up the pace, his tongue rapidly flicking over your clit, pumping his fingers in and out of your fluttering hole.

The room was filled with sloppy, wet sounds of Logans eating you out mixed with your cries of pleasure. He presses your pussy harder against his face, moaning as he does. You clench around him, body drawing tight like a bow as your release nears, his fangs scrape on the fat of your pussy lips. It's like you leave your body for a minute, your ears ringing and your heart pumping. Every nerve in your body is lit up.

Logan reaches up to grope at your breasts, and with a pinch of your nipple, you cum with a loud moan that startles the cows, the lightbulbs exploding as you do. Your body trembles and shakes, juices gushing onto his palette like a tall glass of iced tea after a long day of work during the summer, and his thirst is quenched, but his appetite is only hungrier. You felt like you were melting, pleasure pouring out of you.

“Fuck,” you sound winded, “I haven’t had that happen since I was 24.” Your smile shows crow's feet, crinkling comforts near the sides of your eyes as you smile, really smile at him for the first time this week.

“Getting old, kid.”

“Oh, shut up!”

He ducks to the side to dodge the pillow you throw his way.

“You want to keep going?”

“With you, I don’t ever want to stop.”

His eyes go all soft at the corners, caught up in his feelings. “Promise you won’t ever have to again.”

“Good.”

He picks you up and places you up on the center of the bed, grabbing the pillow you threw at him to place under your hips for support. His clothes come off, and his blue Wrangler jeans drop to the floor with his tank top and boxer briefs. The dog tags stay on. He knows you’ve got a thing for them. They glint in the dim light, steel catching your eye.

Rough, calloused hands slide up your legs, starting at your ankles, and he kneels between your legs on the bed. He folds you nearly in half, hooking your knees over his shoulders, his hip meeting yours. You feel the curling wisps of his pubes tickle against the back of your thighs. Always been a hairy guy, told you it's how he was so warm all the time. It makes your stomach flutter.

Logan leans down, capturing your lips against his own in a kiss before lining up his pre-cum soaked tip with your entrance. He eases into you with a hiss, your walls squeezing him tightly. The length was never an issue, he was only about an inch and a half above average, but it was the girth that made your jaw go slack and droll pool out the sides as he fucked you. The stretch is delicious as he slides inside you.

The first inch yielded a slick gushing sound from your pussy, while the second made you gasp, and the third had your walls tighten around him, taking his and your breath away. The stretch felt so good with how fat of a cock he had. One that felt so much girthier than you’d ever imagine it to be. His cock twitched, heavy, inside you, his pulse beating in time with yous.

“Jesus, princess, you’re squeezing me so tight. Relax,” he rolled his hip about halfway in and still meeting resistance. Relax.” It came out like a pant. Fuck you were so tighter, like a vice around him. He wanted to take it slow, cherish you, show you how much he’d been missing you, but he was an old dog, and he wouldn’t last that long with how bad you were squeezing him.

Your hands gripped the sheets, nails cutting the threadbare cheap cotton ones he’d been using for all these years. “Too much Logan.” You could barely breathe, let alone get the words out.

“You can take it, doll, remember?” he groaned, finally sliding in, flesh meeting yours in a wet slap. Your poor little hole stretched to the max as you whimpered. “See? You can take it.” Logan emphasized each word with a thrust of his hips.

He felt his control slipping, thrusts starting to pick up, super strength coming into play. It coiled deep in his belly as he buried himself to the hilt inside you. “Feel so fucking good. Oh fuck. You’re so perfect, perfect little pussy.”

Logan’s hands move to grab your breasts, pushing them together. He plays with your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and index finger. His pace is brutal, and the position allows him to hit that perfect spot on your gummy walls that has you seeing stars. He’s all grunts and whimpers, silver tips eclipsing the skin of his knuckles. It gets to the point he wants to go faster, the need to cum inside you far too great, and he lets go of your tits and balances himself on the bed.

The base of his cock swelled, his knot beginning to grow. This was the part you missed the most. The way he’d stretch you out so good on his dick, only to then slip his knot inside you and stretch you even further.

“Ain’t gonna last much longer, doll.”

You moan, reaching down to play with your messy clit. It’s so wet between your legs it’s hard to find any purchase, and the sensitive nub slides back and forth so easily. The bed creaks, the wood floors groan, and the bed frame slams against the wall. He’s getting rougher by the second, his knot starting to press against you.

“Give it to me, I’m ready.”

Logan thrusts forward, his knot sliding in with a satisfying pop, your words spurring him on. He pulses, cock swelling impossibly large before he cums. Thick, hot white ropes paint your insides as he stutters and groans, nearly growls, dropping to his elbows and forcing your knees to your chest. His hips don’t stop moving, still rutting up into you as you play with your clit. You just need a little bit more to push you over the edge.

His voice is gravely in your ear as he careens over you, half squishing you with his weight. “I love you.”

It’s the emotion of the moment that makes you cum. Tears in your eyes and love in your heart. Love is a lot like faith, blind trust in the unknown. A bishop can train his whole life, be a theologian, a scholar of the bible, know all of his god’s teachings inside out, and have less faith than a man who’s lived through hell. Putting your trust into the unknown and praying that good comes back to you. You felt like you were finally home, like that piece of yourself you’ve been missing for years is clicking back into place.

Logan didn’t know romance. He was gruff and awkward, snappy at the random way things. But he stood on the outside when you walked along the street, never let you carry anything, and opened every door for you. Never bought you flowers because he hated the local guy who sold them. But he picked them for you daily on his runs. Didn’t ever wash your laundry, but he folded every piece of clothing you owned and hung up all your shirts, all of it, just because you mentioned hating folding clothes to him once.

He’d never be able to admit to you how much you meant to him fully. When you came into his life, he was close to ending things. There had been so many dark, endless days that only he remembered now. Horrors beyond human comprehension were his burden, shadowing his every waking moment until you came walking into his life.

There’d be a conversation in the morning that probably would rise into an argument. He’d likely storm off, and you’d be there waiting, telling him to get therapy, and this time, he would. This time, he’d go talk to a shrink about the mess in his head and sort it out for you, for himself. This time he wouldn’t fuck it up and leave you in the middle of the night. He’d have the difficult, uncomfortable conversations that activate his fight or flight.

You were soft under him as he lifted off of you, still unable to pull out due to his knot. He rotated the two of you so you were on top, your chests pressed together as he lazily traced your spine.

“I love you too.”

“I love you more, sunbeam.”

“Oh, absolutely not. You know I hate that name.”

©️ uzuzrimisery

thank you @txjis for beta reading

#uzuri writes #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #xmen imagine #marvel xmen #xmen fanfiction #logan howlett imagine #wolverine imagine #logan howlett smut #xmen #x-men

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loganhowlettshousewife · 25 days ago

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animal

chapter 2

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: mentions of blood

series masterlist │my masterlist

you wake up slowly, blinking sluggishly at the ceiling. your memories of the previous day come rushing in, and you can’t help but wonder if it was all some kind of fever dream. but when you sit up in bed, that thought is immediately thrown away, because logan is curled up on the floor watching you, staring.

“how long have you been awake?” you ask, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. he just tilts his head, listening but giving you no indication of the answer to your question.

you’d set him up in the guest bedroom last night. he had laid down on top of the covers, the same way he was positioned on your floor now, and though you had wanted to pull the covers over his body, you decided to let him do what was most comfortable, most natural, to him. you had already thrown quite a bit of new his way, best to let him process it all.

you don’t know at what point he’d migrated from the guest room to your floor, but he’s here now. he had been watching you sleep. a wave of anxiety washes over you - what do you look like when you sleep? do you drool? is it unattractive?

(they’re certainly not the thoughts you should be having when a man you hardly know watches you sleep, but he’s hot and oddly endearing.)

he rises up to his feet only seconds after you, and you have to tell him not to follow you into the bathroom, to which he growls.

later, you’re sitting at the table with logan, eating the breakfast you’d cooked up. you had to teach him how to use a fork, which was terribly entertaining, and even now he looks dismayed at not being able to eat with his hands, having to pick up the food with a metal instrument instead. he stabs the fork loudly every time he brings it down, as if to communicate his disapproval, but he doesn’t look truly angry, just pouty.

“are you going to follow me around all day again?” you ask, “because i don’t mind, but i just wanted to let you know that i have quite a few things on my to-do list.”

he stops eating, stares at you for a few seconds, nods, and then continues as if you hadn’t spoken.

one of your favourite parts of living outside of a city is the nature, the space, the green that surrounds you with your favourite thing: plants. your grandmother had taken care of a gorgeous garden of fruits and vegetables and herbs for as long as you could remember, teaching a starry-eyed child version of you everything she knew. you’re the one left with the responsibility now.

you clean the dishes, humming to yourself, logan behind you, and when you’re done, you lead him outside. you bask in the sunlight of the outdoors, each step in the dewy grass a thrill. there’s a morning chill in the air, the new-day sun having not quite warmed your surroundings yet.

you remind logan to be careful of where he steps, talking him through your long list of things for him not to do, so lost in the one-sided conversation that you don’t even notice when he stops before the garden starts. you look back at him, confused that he’s not trailing you anymore, but he doesn’t leave either, he just sits down on the grass.

a warmth blooms in your chest. you don’t know his thoughts or his intentions, but you want to think he stopped because he could tell how much you didn’t want him messing with the plants, your domain, the happy place of your childhood.

the best part about assuming these things about logan is that he can’t correct you, so you can create a little version of him in your head that thinks about you and looks at you the way you look at him. it’s been two days - not even, it’s been a day and a half. could you be any more pathetically starved of love and affection?

well, no, you think to yourself.

it doesn’t take you long to finish up the watering and weeding, checking around for any more problems that you might not catch at first glance. you take your time harvesting what you can, placing it all in two cute woven baskets you brought out with you.

you’re already thinking of the food you could make for logan, giddy with excitement at finally getting to feed someone other than yourself. you love taking care of others, it’s one of your love languages, or maybe it’s just a way for you to feel needed in the hopes that people won’t leave you if you do enough for them. either way, you’ve always genuinely enjoyed cooking, but you can’t do it as much when there’s only one person in the house to feed.

and logan had eaten a lot, last night. he’s big, of course, it’s to be expected, but you suppose you haven’t been close enough with anyone to share food in a while, so it’s strange.

when you return to logan’s side, smiling brightly, he smiles back at you. it’s the first smile you’ve seen on his face, the first expression other than a snarl, a look of confusion, or the expressionless stare he directs towards you. and wow, it lights up his features, turns everything soft, like the world has blurred just slightly, the kind of unclear image that tells you you’re in a dream.

“you’re pretty when you smile,” you say without meaning to. but with the way he brightens even more at the praise, purring in contentment, you don’t regret it.

he doesn’t do much the entire day, just follows you as you go through your list of chores. he’s always careful not to get in your way.

by evening, you can feel the pent-up energy and tension inside him, but he’s so good at pretending it isn’t there that you’re sure you wouldn’t have noticed if not for having seen him when he was truly relaxed. you feel guilty, cooping him up inside when there’s clearly some part of him that’s feral, making him act more like an animal than human like you.

you don’t live the most exciting life, it’s not fast-paced and entertaining and it definitely doesn’t keep you on your toes guessing what might happen next. you prefer the quiet, the comfort of a familiar routine, doing domestic chores and reading by the fireplace. it’s monotonous, but it’s something you can rely on, something that won’t change on you.

logan longs for something your life can’t provide.

he’s gazing out the open windows, at the forest from which you’d first seen him emerge, something in his eyes that you can’t decipher. and you realise that maybe you can give him what he needs. you live out in the middle of nowhere, animals roaming free in those woods, far from other people. in between two worlds, just like logan.

“you know you don’t have to follow me all the time,” you say gently, meeting him by the window, “nothing will happen if you go outside for a while. you can go, run free, and i’ll be here when you come back.”

he contemplates for a while and you wait, patient, hoping you come across as reassuring, that he knows you’re being genuine. it’s funny to think that when you first saw him you’d wanted him to leave.

he does go, eventually, after going through the entire house and sniffing around like he was searching for some kind of threat. so you sit on your couch with a book and a cup of tea, reading about silly little characters falling in love.

when logan comes back he’s shirtless, smelling of sweat and musk, chest heaving. he looks the best you’ve ever seen him, and not just because the sweat is making his skin glisten and you can see his perfect abs. something about him has changed, though it's not something physical. he didn’t have to hold back, was able to release all the tension you know must have been clinging to him since yesterday, or even longer. (you still don’t know his backstory.)

he curls up on the other side of the couch to you, and you spend the rest of the night with a hand in his hair, scratching his head occasionally to listen to his pleased purrs.

a week goes by and you fall into somewhat of a routine. logan clings to you less, though he still prefers to be in the same room as you most of the time. he goes out into the forest to run and sometimes to hunt, coming back with blood staining his clothes.

although the first few tries failed miserably, you’ve gotten quite good at removing bloodstains from fabric, which is not a skill you ever imagined yourself perfecting.

it’s been a while since your last visit to town, and you need to go pick up a few things, not just for yourself but for logan too.

“logan,” you call for him as you’re grabbing a few last things to throw in your bag. he bounds up to you as usual. sometimes he reminds you so much of a cute puppy that you get the urge to pet him and call him “good boy” but you don’t know how he would take that, so you refrain.

“i need to leave for a bit,” you say, “just like how you leave sometimes. i’ll be back soon, just need to get a few things.”

he grumbles and pouts as you leave but doesn’t stop you. he does stare longingly at you from through the window, you catch the sight as you’re driving out.

the closest town to your house is small, but it has all the necessities. you pick up some groceries, things you can’t make or grow yourself. and then you need to get clothes for logan. you had eyed his measurements, taking note of the size of his body, though you didn’t know them exactly. it’s still better than him continuing to wear clothes that don’t fit him.

although most days he prefers not to wear a shirt. because he wants to torture you, clearly.

it’s a good kind of torture, the kind that produces butterflies in your stomach and brings heat to your face. you try not to ogle him, not wanting to objectify him or make him uncomfortable, but when he catches you staring he only ever comes closer, pressing up against you.

you could have brought him with you, but you weren’t sure it was a good idea. he’s a mutant, you guessed that pretty quickly on the first night, and people aren’t very kind to mutants. especially small-minded, small-town folks. and though logan’s appearance isn’t damning on its own, his behaviours clearly show the animal side of him.

he doesn’t need to deal with awful people and their awful comments. you want to protect him from that as much as you can.

you normally take your time meandering around the town, stopping at your favourite bookstore to pick up some new reads, grabbing a horribly overpriced coffee as a treat, maybe even sitting on a bench in the park, enjoying your drink and novel as you watch children run around and play, parents shouting after them, dogs barking in excitement.

but today, you itch to return home. there’s a tight feeling in your chest, a loneliness you haven’t felt in a long time, and it calls out logan’s name, pleading for you to return to him. you still stop by the bookstore, and if you’re more attracted towards the romance novels with a supernatural, animalistic love interest this time around, that’s for you and the cashier who rings you up to know.

you’re beaming when you return home, parking the car and grabbing your bags to bring them inside. your smile falters when logan doesn’t greet you at the door. you peak into the living room to find it empty as well.

it saddens you, but you assume he went out into the forest for a while. it makes sense that he wouldn’t want to stay cooped up in the house with nothing to entertain him while you were gone. you had formed a scenario in your mind where logan would rush towards you when you returned, like a puppy who missed his owner.

when you finish putting away your groceries, you head towards your bedroom. pushing the door open, you freeze, mouth parted and eyes going soft at the sight that greets you.

logan is curled up in your bed, fast asleep in the spot where you always sleep, face buried in your pillow. he’s under the blankets for once, and they curl around his shape to wrap him up in soft warmth.

you tip-toe towards the bed, careful not to wake him. you don’t know how long he’s been sleeping, and you wish you had a way to play back the scene of him crawling into your bed, untucking the sheets to slip under them, sniffing the bed to find the spot where he knew you slept, the place that smelled the most like you.

oh, you adore him.

it’s fast, terribly so, but he’s wormed his way into your heart. it’s not love yet, but you think you could grow to love him someday.

you sit on the bed, moving over until you’re by logan’s side. he looks so peaceful like this, and you bring your hand to his head, intending to give him the scratches he loves so much, when he wakes suddenly.

the next thing you know, you’re on your back, logan on top of you, claws at your neck. you blink up at him, everything happening so quickly that your brain hasn’t had time to catch up and tell you to scream or struggle or anything else one would typically do when you have sharp blades pointed at your throat.

it doesn’t matter, because logan’s eyes meet yours, and his claws retract into his knuckles. you relax into the mattress, leftover fear dissipating because you know he won’t hurt you. he was surprised, that’s all, and really you should know better than to sneak up on someone with clear, obvious trauma.

his lips twitch up for barely a second, not quite reaching a smile, and then his expression darkens as he leans forward to sniff you. he growls, a deep rumble in his throat, shoving his face into your neck.

you can feel the vibrations through your body from the proximity between you and logan. it’s different from when he purrs in your ear and you feel as though the sound penetrates your skin, finding its way into your bloodstream, forcing your heartbeat faster.

something’s wrong, you can tell. you’ve never seen him react to you this way. so you bring your arms up to wrap around his midsection, hands on his back, slow movements not to startle him.

“what’s wrong?” you ask in a gentle whisper, “did something happen while i was away.”

there’s another growl as he sniffs you again. he pushes his body closer to yours, chest to chest, one of his legs between yours.

“mine,” logan says, followed by him pressing his face in your neck and licking and sucking at the skin. you gasp and squirm under him, but you don’t want him to stop, not really.

your mind is reeling. he spoke. a real word, one you recognise, passing through his lips, floating in the air between you. his voice is smooth, nothing like you expected, and yet it suits him.

you laugh. you can’t help it, you’re giddy. he pulls back when you laugh, still frowning, but you don’t care. the word is repeating in your head. “mine”, he’d called you, staking his claim both verbally as well as physically marking you as his. it’s terrible, you’ve known him only a week, yet you feel all warm and fuzzy, the room around you like a mirage. the only things that exist are you and logan and that word.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff

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lundenloves · 1 year ago

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THE CARD

〔 this is dedicated to all the girlies who never stopped trying. because sometimes, putting up boundaries isn’t as easy as it seems and that’s okay. if you think i’m talking to you, i am. 〕

˗ˏˋ to be flat about it, simon’s daughter stopped making him birthday cards. this one unintentionally got a bit deep but i do that with everything so don’t act surprised.

⇀ 1.1k | no warnings

masterlist | dad!simon masterlist | request info | taglist

Your husband often forgot about his birthday. Lost to bad memories, and lack of care but primarily his job. Even still, it wasn’t something he particularly wanted to remember — feeling comfort in letting it slip under the rug, rubbing the back of his neck in absence when you had asked him the date. He insisted it was something to be ignored, and for your three years without kids it was, aside from the one present he reluctantly let you buy.

Of course, that was until your first born came along.

And there were a lot of things Simon didn’t know about having children. The obvious ones like the guilty regret late at night, being out of his depth and even how to deal with them. But, also their childlike wonder and passion for random things that seemed so foreign to him. Afterall, a birthday is a birthday, it never seemed to matter whose it was — your kid would turn to incredulous sobs if it wasn’t celebrated. Especially when she had found out about her fathers, bottom lip quivering when he had gently told her how he prefers to not do anything.

It started when she was a toddler, forgetting about his birthday until she had heard you talking about it. Small ears perked up at the mention of the word, hanging by the door to watch as you traced Simon’s arm and the tattoos, his head shaking and a few words mumbled between you. Every year you asked if he wanted to do anything, knowing his answer but hoping for another.

So, naturally, she took to her bedroom. Trashing her small desk with dozens of crayons to create a card for Simon, one that was unevenly folded yet made with her whole heart.

She did that every following year without fail. Except, her cards folded more evenly as time passed and the crayons were exchanged for pens, then pencils. The drawings got better and better, words spelt right and the inner messages were longer all before they had stopped entirely.

In seemingly simple change for a shop bought card. See, the words were joined together nicely though the message was shorter and the lack of ten kisses in exchange for one suddenly made the card seem empty. “Why’d you stop?” You would ask one night as the pair of you lay together in the dark, your husband's place taken by your daughter near every night when he was away. “Making the cards.”

She shrugged. “Didn’t think he cared.”

When in reality, those cards were the only thing Simon looked forward to year round. And it wasn’t like he had outwardly expressed how much they meant to him, rather giving a weak smile and a soft kiss to her temple each time. But he kept them, every single one, every drawing was stored for safekeeping in a small box filled to the brim. Sketches that ranged from family drawings, to landscapes, animals and solo drawings of him if not herself.

Time ran from small limbs clambering over your own, six in the morning to reach Simon who had stirred when she fell onto his chest, a hand instinctively placed on the back of her head in his half-conscious state. “It’s your birthday!” She used to drag out with a laugh, sitting up on his stomach and holding the card mere centimeters from his face.

To the last birthday, handing him the shop bought card in all teenage glory, too embarrassed to write ‘I love you’ so it came as a ‘Love you’ and the once overly done x’s and o’s were now a set of one. He didn’t know the first thing about teenagers either. How past a certain age everything felt detrimental and targeted, embarrassment seeped through everything and it wasn’t cool to like your dad anymore.

Especially not as a teenage girl.

And it wasn’t until he was away for his birthday for the first time in years that she had missed it. Missed the softening of his eyes and the way his arm would wrap around her shoulder and pull her to his side, hand rubbing her arm in acknowledgement of her efforts.

She took his safety for granted most of the time. Waving to him at the door with no doubt that he would be back months later, a naturally blunt text that he was safe would be sent to you and all would be well. Though, sometimes he was required to hand his phone in before the tougher trips. Designed to provide the safest atmosphere, though back home many miles away it never did feel safer. And that was when she missed him the most.

You always wanted what you couldn’t have.

Simon was no better. He had taken the younger years for granted. The tears before bed, stalking into his bedroom after a bad dream, tired eyes in the mornings and the excitement to see him once back home. He wasn’t to know when the last time he would pick up his daughter was, or the last time she would ask for help when reaching for a cereal box. Hell, even the final she had fallen asleep on his chest or asked him to stay until she had dozed off in her own ‘big’ bed. Small hands wrapping around his fingers, giggles and toothy grins had all evaporated into nothing.

It was tough being a dad.

But it was hell being a teenage girl.

Sometimes it felt ike you were made purely to drink iced coffee with alternative milk, wear baggy clothes and feel bad for old people every now and then. The act of growing up isn’t something you want, though something you concede to after realising you had wished your youth away.

And in that,

There was something about girls and their fathers.

The constant need for subconscious approval and love, feeling bad for the man who raised you whenever he was left to eat dinner alone or scorned by your mother in a heated argument you couldn’t help to overhear. Simon’s daughter had always been in that predicament.

She missed her dad when he left, yet hated when she shared the kitchen with him. It felt like an itch that you weren’t able to scratch, though his rare hugs completely killed all flame she had for him and sometimes, instead, they allowed for tears to flow. Because after all, a girl is really just her dad.

Maybe that card should've been made after all.

˗ˏˋ university is wiping me out already. it’s the first week back do you want to fucking calm down. been set two presentations (both recorded wtf) and three literature papers.

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @maki-z @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffeee

as always reblogs and comments are mighty appreciated blah blah blah

#simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mw fanfiction #ghost mw2 #simon riley #cod mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley headcanons #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley headcanons #dad!simon #ghost call of duty #call of duty mwii #call of duty imagines #call of duty

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atlabeth · 8 months ago

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price of dreaming

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: luke's spiral and the part you play in it.

a/n: this is so sad i'm sorry. like it's just a couple thousand words of luke being sad with a cute little flashback and a percy mention to make it all more sad. i don't know what's wrong with me why did i start writing this series

wc: 4.1k

warning(s): pretty severe angst bc this takes place after hurricane's death and goes up to mid tlt. death ideation, minor descriptions of injuries, luke isn't the best person, just a whole lot of sadness.

Luke returns to camp two weeks after your death, nothing more than a shell of himself.

Half of his time was spent sitting in an interrogation room in a Boston police station, mumbling his way through questions he doesn’t know how to answer. It’s not every day that a teenage girl is found nearly ripped apart in the middle of a city with her boyfriend completely broken next to her. Two EMTs had to literally drag him away from you—at least, that’s what they tell Luke. Everything after your heartbeat stopped is a blur for him. He doesn’t really even know how he got to the station.

And that’s how it is for a while. He talks to detectives who don’t believe him, he stares at the wall and wishes you were here, he goes home with your mom. She’s being asked just as many questions, and she refuses to leave him out on the street or take him back to camp. She doesn’t understand that Luke’s done it all before.

Eventually, the officers settle on a freak animal attack. It didn’t make sense for an animal capable of doing that to be in the city, but mortals see what they want to see. Luke is just thankful to be out of it.

But he doesn’t know what to do next. There’s a huge gaping hole in his chest and in his life without you, and he doesn’t know how to live without you. Every time Luke closes his eyes he sees your face, and he hasn’t been able to sleep through the night since it happened. He only really manages to stay out when his body practically shuts down from exhaustion.

Your mom treats Luke like a second son while he’s living with her, and it pains him more than anything. She asks him if he wants to stay with her, try and finish out the semester. He was surprised she still wanted anything to do with him.

Luke declined. He loved your mom, but being in that apartment without you—walking past your room and knowing you would never be there again, seeing a space you carved out for yourself knowing the most integral part was missing—was just too much for him. The full reality of you being gone still hadn’t sunk in yet.

He’s soured on the city of Boston as a whole. He’s felt your blood on his hands since the moment it stained his fingers, and for as long as Luke lives he will never forget the look on your mother’s face when she showed up at the police station.

Your mom offers to drive him back to camp, and though he wants to say no to that as well, he doesn’t. Luke can tell that she needs a distraction, and he doesn’t really know how else he’s gonna get back to camp. They don’t talk very much on the way there, but neither of them burst into tears, so he considers it a victory.

She parks at the bottom of the hill and hugs him so tightly he can’t breathe, but he welcomes any kind of feeling.

“Stay safe, Luke,” she says, her hands on his shoulders. “And if you ever need a place to stay—”

“I know,” he interrupts. “And I’ll try.”

She nods a few times, and she blinks back tears as she looks up at him. “Thank you for everything you did for my daughter. For all those years that you kept her safe.”

It clearly wasn’t enough, Luke wants to say. If it was, he wouldn’t have lost you back then, and he wouldn’t have lost you now. But that wouldn’t help anyone, so he nods. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his throat still dry as a desert.

“Always.”

“I know how much you meant to each other,” she says softly. “I’m so sorry, Luke.”

He holds back his emotions. “So am I.”

Your mom nods again and they say their goodbyes once more, hugging one last time. When Luke reaches the top of the hill, he looks back to see her still standing there. He wishes he could do something to ease the pain, but he doesn’t even know how to deal with his own.

Luke stops at Thalia’s tree, and he already feels that lump in his throat.

“I hope you’re together in Elysium,” he murmurs. “I always thought you would like each other.”

The beginnings of tears prick the back of his eyes and he clears his throat, shaking his head like it’ll help silence the millions of thoughts scattered around his brain. If Thalia lives on like this, he hopes your spirit is still around somewhere.

“I love you,” he says quietly. “And I’m sorry I failed both of you.”

Nobody at camp knows. How could they?

Luke wasn’t expected back until the summer, though, so his presence at the top of the hill is telling in of itself. Especially alone.

He ignores everyone that tries to talk to him and gets to the Big House to break the news to Chiron. Thankfully, when he dissolves into tears, it’s behind closed doors. Chiron takes it in a saddened stride, and Luke wonders how many heroes have died in his lifetime.

You have no siblings to make a burial shroud, so the Athena cabin takes up the responsibility. Annabeth invites him to take part, but he can hardly stomach the thought.

It’s beautiful. They emulate the ocean through embroidery and Annabeth even gets a little Red Sox patch in. They let Luke burn it, and he’s amazed he even makes it through the ceremony. But the entire camp shows up, and there isn’t a single dry eye. He hopes you at least know how many people care about you.

Chris takes over as counselor for the indefinite future, which is probably a good thing when Luke can barely muster the strength to get out of bed most days. He picks at his food when he’s able to make it to meals, and his prayers to Hermes have never felt emptier. He used to do one for Poseidon every so often, especially when you were at school, but the thought makes him sick. His eyes never stop trailing over to Cabin Three’s table.

The Poseidon cabin is empty again.

Luke doesn’t fully realize the path he’s taken until he’s standing in the doorway and the scent of salty air hits him. He’s so used to hanging out with you after dinner that he just went there automatically.

It feels unfinished. It is unfinished. You had a whole box of things back in Boston that you wanted to bring back to camp to decorate.

Your posters still hang on the walls—Blondie, Pearl Jam, Alanis Morisette. Fairy lights are falling down in the corner, and they’re unplugged. Luke had to remind you to unplug them before you left for the school year.

You should be standing next to him, smiling and laughing and dragging him in behind you as you rant about capture the flag or the canoe race you definitely didn’t cheat in. He blinks away the tears building in his eyes and he takes a step back.

You should be here. You’re not.

(How many more times is he going to end up here chasing ghosts?)

There are some things a person just can’t get over.

And that’s how his days go. He barely manages to get out of bed, picks at meals that taste like sand, musters what little strength he has to lead sword lessons, endures pitiful looks and sympathetic speeches.

Luke gets lost in the past more than he should, oftentimes sitting on the beach talking to you as he watches the waves roll in or sneaking out to the dock in the middle of the night to be in the company of the only person he can stand.

By the time summer comes back around, Luke is sure of three things.

He isn’t ever going to be the same again.

You should still be alive.

He won’t rest until he’s torn Olympus down brick by brick.

“It’s quiet here,” Luke said.

“That’s what happens when you don’t have any siblings,” you murmured.

His eyes trailed over to the door and you nudged him with your shoulder. “What do you keep looking over there for? Scared someone’s gonna catch us?”

He shrugged. “We’re technically not allowed to be in here together.”

“They can’t say anything,” you said. “We’re both counselors. And no one’s in this place anyways. Besides,” you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, “we’ve earned all the time in the world.”

Luke smiled and snaked an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “You think so?”

“We lost two years together,” you said, laying your head on his chest. “Far as I’m concerned, no one can say a damn thing to us.”

“It always feels like we talk about the past,” he said. “What about the future?”

“All I know is I want you in it,” you mused. You always loved resting on his chest because you could hear his heartbeat, could feel the slight rise and fall from his breathing. It meant he was alive, and after what you’d been through, that was more valuable than anything.

“Obviously,” Luke said coyly. “I want you in mine too. But what about the details?”

“We gotta finish high school first,” you said. “Have you thought about what I said?”

“...Yeah,” he nodded. “It’s just been a while since I’ve left camp. Going back to school seems rough for someone who hasn’t been in classes since elementary school.”

You shook your head. “Which is exactly why my school would be perfect for you. We left at the same age, remember?” You took his hand and began to trace the lines of his palm. “It took some getting used to, but I made it. If I can, so can you—and I’ll help you every step of the way.”

Luke chuckled softly. “I’m a little worried about leaving Annabeth.”

“Annabeth of all people would support you going for your education,” you said. “And it’s not like she’ll be on her own—everyone likes her here.”

“...Talk me through it,” Luke decided. “Say we both go back for the school year. What does a sophomore year for the two of us back in Boston look like?”

“Well, we’d be living together. We have an extra room in our apartment, and I’m sure I can convince my mom to let you take it.” You let out a sigh as you shifted, moving closer into Luke’s side. “We’d take the T together to school, but you don’t have to worry because I can show you around everywhere.”

He chuckled. "I could use a refresher on Boston. Don't have the fondest memories there."

"We'll just make some new ones," you promised. “I’m on the soccer team, too. I was JV this year, but I’m gonna make varsity next fall—mark my words.”

Luke rubbed your shoulder as he hummed. “And I’d come to every game.”

“You better.” You glanced up at him with a smile. “You could try out for something too. I think you’d make a killing in basketball.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do you not remember all those pick-up games we played when we were younger and bored? I was gods-awful.”

“This’ll be different,” you insisted. “You’ll actually be sleeping on a bed every night, and eating consistently. I think that makes you a better athlete. Plus, you’re not three feet tall anymore.”

Luke laughed as he intertwined your fingers together. “The star soccer player and the mediocre basketball player. We make quite a couple.”

“You’d be better than mediocre,” you said. “Anyways—we’d play our sports and kill it, I’d introduce you to all the friends I made last year, I’d show you all around Boston, and I’d get you hooked on the Red Sox.”

He leaned back against the headboard with a chuckle. “You’re really never gonna let this go, are you?”

“It’s my sovereign duty to put you onto the Red Sox,” you said, “especially surrounded by all these Yankees. I’m gonna get you to a game one of these days. And after we kill sophomore year, we’ll kill junior and senior year.” You tapped on his chest for each year with your free hand, and his smile grew. “Then we’ll graduate high school together. With honors, and monster-free.”

“You have such high standards,” Luke said wryly. “I’ve always thought I’d be lucky to pass with C’s.”

“You haven’t always had me,” you mused. “And when we’re together, we can’t lose.”

Luke smiled as he looked at your intertwined hands. “Y’know, I think your plan sounds pretty good. I’m pretty sure I could put up with school if it meant more time with you.”

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. Luke moved his hand to keep you there, and when you pulled away, a delicate blush painted his cheeks and pure love danced in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile.

You were the luckiest girl in the world.

“Thank you,” you said.

Luke offered a sideways grin. “For what?”

You shrugged. “For being you.”

“Thank you, then,” he said.

“For what?”

“For sticking with me,” Luke said. “Through everything.”

“I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else,” you murmured.

The second year isn’t any easier.

Luke is back to being year-round. There’s no point in going home—not when Connecticut hasn’t welcomed him in years. Not when he would just be another problem for your mother in the midst of her grief.

So he stays at camp. Endures the pitiful looks from everyone, lies his way through attempted therapy with Chiron, trains more than ever before. No one seems to know how to treat him, because he goes from completely alone to swarmed with sympathy to completely alone again. It takes two months before his friends are acting like he’s a normal person again, and even then it still feels like they’re walking on glass.

Luke can’t find enough inside of him to care.

He practices with his sword until he feels like his arms might fall off, only narrowly avoiding the harpies each night. His siblings ask how he does it, why he does it, and he just says he wants to get better.

But Luke refuses to let it happen again—not when his surrogate sister is all he has left. Not when he sees you every time he closes his eyes.

His birthday comes and goes, but seventeen is empty without you. He replays your past conversations in his head, about traveling together and graduating together and maybe even going to college together. Demigods aren’t meant to think about the future, but he dared to dream with you.

And the worst part was that you were right. You made varsity. You were in the middle of killing sophomore year, despite Luke struggling his way through with C’s and the occasional D—you had always been smarter than him. You got him out to a Red Sox game, and gods forbid, he actually enjoyed it.

You were living the life you deserved, a life of happiness and success and with Luke, and you didn’t even make it past sophomore year. You were meant for so much more, and every day he questions why it was taken from you. Every day, he questions why you’re gone and he’s not.

The year chugs on in all its misery, and for the first time since he all but rejected him as his son, Hermes appears to Luke.

His father gives him a quest, and he takes it despite the inherent insult of it. Maybe some part of him hopes he’ll die out there and finally get to see you again.

(Another part wonders if he’s even worth Elysium. Luke lost you once, then he lost Thalia, and now he’s lost you again. Some kind of hero he is.)

He goes it alone. It takes him back to the first couple of months before he met you, and when the thought hits him, it almost overwhelms him. Everything makes Luke think of you, but it makes sense. He’s only living half a life—he’s missing the other half of his soul.

Luke fails his quest. He manages to get a claw and he manages to nearly lose an eye. There’s no glory in a repeated quest, but there might be even less glory in this.

And once more, Luke staggers back to camp as a victim rather than a hero. Someone only worthy of pity, someone so weak that Chiron bans quests unless they’re absolutely necessary. It takes weeks for the scars on his body to heal, and the mark on his face even longer. He becomes well-acquainted with the cycle of Apollo kids that take shifts in the infirmary.

He feels nothing but disgust every time he looks in the mirror. After all, the claw marks ripping their way through his body match yours. Sometimes he wishes Ladon finished the job.

It doesn’t make sense why, after everything, he’s still here.

Luke can hardly stand to be at camp, but he’s got nowhere else to go. He gets better at hiding his emotions, better at acting like he’s gotten through it. New demigods show up and he’s not the bereaved counselor anymore—he’s not introduced with his grief. He hides it away.

No one wants to deal with all the problems he’s racked up. His mom, his dad, Thalia, you. He’s a demigod. Demigods are resilient. So he plays the part—he’s been through a lot, but he’s past it. He promises he’s not a burden anymore. He’s just a normal kid.

And for a while, Luke is almost able to believe it himself. He’s never going to be over you, but he starts feeling like a person again rather than a ghost of one. He’s fully taken over the mantle of counselor again, and he’s actually present during sword-fighting lessons. He even manages to get a six-month-long capture the flag winning streak going on.

And then Kronos appears in his dreams.

Luke knows Greek mythology. It’s hard not to pick up a couple things when you’re fighting stuff from the history books, but they teach some lessons at camp. It’s nice to know what you’re up against before you die a brutal death.

Kronos killed his father. He ate his children. Every wicked deed was done for power, and power is what he offers Luke.

And maybe there’s something wrong with him, because it’s the first time he’s felt hope since he left Boston.

Luke finally has an answer to something. He’s been silently cursing the gods for years, trying to figure out a way to tear everything down without getting himself immediately killed, and he’s got one.

Kronos speaks to him most nights. He remembers the dreams you shared with him in your final year, all the restless hours spent sitting together on the fire escape as he soothed you. You thought Kronos was the reason for it, but he couldn’t have been. His dreams were nothing like yours.

But still, Luke wonders every day what you would say if you were here, if you knew the treacherous path he’d embarked on. Kronos promised power, freedom, an end to Olympus and the reign of the gods.

He doesn’t care about power. He just wants to hold you again. He wants to hear your laugh again. He wants to see your smile in more than pictures.

But he can’t. And he wants to destroy everyone responsible for it.

So he does everything the Titan Lord asks of him. He hones his skills even further, he lays low, and when the time is right, he steals Zeus’s bolt and Hades’ helm. Luke even nearly beats Ares when he’s caught, but Kronos doesn’t lead him astray—he speaks of divine war, and he gets out of it.

He continues to see you. Kronos doesn’t lead him astray, but he punishes him for such a close call. Luke wakes in the middle of the night, eyes wide and chest heaving with labored breaths, and he feels your blood on his hands all over again. He sees you die over and over again and he can do nothing to stop it.

You always told each other about your nightmares.

That’s the hardest part of it all. You’ve always been so closely intertwined with Luke’s life since the moment he saved you in that aquarium years ago, and he can’t see any way to let go of you. He can’t—even though you’re gone, you’re still a part of him. His first instinct in any situation is to tell you, and it kills him that he can’t.

And maybe things would have turned out different for Luke if you were still around. He’s never going to forgive himself for your death, and he’s certainly never going to forgive the gods. Thalia pushed him to the edge, but you were the breaking point. Luke is only nineteen and he’s loved and lost more than most.

Maybe things would be different if you were here. But you’re not, and they aren’t. So when a new demigod shows up, covered in monster dust and nearly dead on camp’s doorstep with Grover in tow, Luke doesn’t hesitate.

He killed the Minotaur, and his mom is dead. Skilled enough to take on a quest, desperate enough to ignore a couple warning signs. Percy Jackson is the boy Kronos told him about.

So Luke takes him under his wing. Shows him around camp, welcomes him to the Hermes cabin, trains with him one-on-one.

Something about his spirit reminds him of you. It’s the grit, he thinks. The determination. The refusal to back down even when it’s the smartest option. When he asks about you that night in the Hermes cabin, Luke’s heart stutters. The kid is too sharp for his liking.

It doesn’t take long before Luke manages to cement himself as one of his friends, maybe only third to Annabeth and Grover. He’s a lost kid that’s been thrust into a world he doesn’t understand, and Luke is the closest thing to a rock most campers have got.

It’s supposed to just be a guise, but sometimes, he forgets himself. He likes Percy too much—he just feels too much like a younger brother, and that’s not really good for the already growing guilt in his chest.

Maybe it’s because Luke sees himself in Percy. Someone playing a part he’s not aware of, an unfortunate pawn with no choice in the matter. Luke tries to push it away. Kronos wouldn’t lead him astray—this was the path he had to take if he wanted anything to change.

But it’s not like that makes it easier. Because gods, Percy has never looked more like a kid than when he’s suited up in armor for capture the flag. It almost makes Luke regret the plan he has to enact.

Almost.

Annabeth has a plan as usual, and thankfully Percy plays the part of bait. Luke tunes out of everything else and lets his battle senses take over—things have already been set into play, and now all Luke can do is hide in plain sight. Soon enough he’s got the red team’s flag past the boundary line, and he’s hoisted up onto his teammates shoulders. Luke is almost able to forget what he’s done.

…Almost.

A howl rips through the forest, and the hellhound Luke summoned after the start of the game launches itself at Percy. He’s on the ground before he knows it, the flag forgotten in his hand as he rushes over with the rest of the campers.

For some ungodly reason, Annabeth tries to step in front of him, but she’s thankfully too slow. The monster swipes at Percy and its claws shred through his armor. For a split second, Luke is back in Boston and his chest stills.

Chiron solves the problem with a cluster of arrows, but the camp is in immediate disarray. Clarisse instantly accuses Percy, Annabeth is trying to make sure Percy doesn’t die, and Luke just hopes his shock is believable enough to hide his annoyance. He’s just a scrawny kid—how the hell is he still alive? But then the unthinkable happens.

Annabeth tells Percy to step back in the lake. The instant he’s in the water, what should have been a fatal wound starts to heal.

And then a glowing blue trident appears above Percy Jackson’s head.

Luke feels sick as he lowers himself to one knee with the rest of camp. As the hellhound he summoned melts into the shadows, as he stares at the sacrificial lamb of a demigod meant to unknowingly enact his plan.

“Poseidon,” Chiron says. “Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.”

Your brother.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon #sadie writes

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thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels · 9 months ago

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I don't know you anymore (maybe I never really did)

let me wrap my teeth around the world - series masterlist here

pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.7k

genre: fluff, angst (happy ending to come)

warnings: slytherin reader, some serious emotional dodging and avoidance but you know me it all ends up ok, peter is your bestie and that's just the way it is sorry, no happy ending YET but I promise it's coming this is not a tragedy

a/n: happy ending next week I love y'all too much to leave you with heartache

"Sorry, love," Remus begins to bend down, hand reaching to pick up the book you'd dropped when the two of you collided in the library, but you quickly shoot your own hand out to snatch it up first. "What are you doing here this late?"

"Getting a book," you say plainly. Remus's brows furrow slightly, his eyes drifting over your figure as if to somehow see why you're acting so strangely.

"Alright, dove. We're all planning on studying pretty late tonight - you're welcome to join us. We can always sneak you back down to the dungeons whenever you're ready to call it a night." Remus is quiet when he talks, that soothing, soft air he has about him making your shoulders drop as you lean against the bookshelf next to you.

"As if I can't sneak myself around the castle without your help," you bite back playfully. A smile twitches across Remus's lips as he thinks, just for a moment, that you're back, that you'll follow him up to his common room and spend the night laying on a couch with him, your legs slung over James's lap while you throw wads of paper at Sirius's head. His heart thumps a little painfully when he realizes that he can't remember the last time you've done that with them - he can't remember the last time you've hung out with them at all.

It's as if you remember that fact at the same time he does, as the faint smile slips off your face and you straighten. "I can't tonight," you say kindly. "But thank you." Remus blinks as you begin to move past him, your polite voice ringing through his head. Like we're strangers, he thinks weakly. Except you're not even that nice to strangers.

Remus is busy slouching against the nearest bookshelf and wondering what they possibly could have done to make you avoid them so desperately but so kindly when he hears you let out another sigh from where you've walked past him.

"Wow," Sirius drawls as Remus turns to see him and James standing in front of you and you pointedly looking past them, like you're a trapped animal searching for the nearest escape route. "I'd almost forgotten you go here still." Your gaze snaps to Sirius and you narrow your eyes at him.

"It's good to see you," James interjects, seeing the two of you size each other up and eager to avoid a showdown between you and Sirius. "How have you been, love?"

"You see me in class almost every day," you snipe back at Sirius before turning to James. "I've been busy, and I still am now so - if you'll excuse me." With that, you slip between the two of them, exiting the library swiftly. Remus sighs and Sirius scowls at the now empty doorway, James opting to look down at the floor, staring dejectedly like a kicked puppy. No doubt you're holing up down in the Slytherin dorms all night now - as far away as you can get from them. Sirius smoothes a hand over James's unruly curls as Remus squeezes his shoulder comfortingly.

"We'll figure this out," he says gently, and as Sirius looks at him, he begs himself to believe it.

"You lost, Pete?" You don't look up from your book as Peter plants himself in the seat opposite you, frowning at you.

"Like we've never had breakfast together before," he huffs back, and you can't stop the smile that flits across your lips at the confidence that he's so clearly been nurturing. You close your book with a thump and place your chin in your hand, staring at him and waiting for him to continue. "Half the time, you're at the Gryffindor table. It can't be so different for me to come over here."

"Hm, maybe it's not," you shrug, picking your book back up to toss it across the table at him. "Read the back of that. You can borrow it when I'm done - I think you'll like it." Peter picks it up tentatively and gets about halfway through the synopsis before he's dropping it back on the table and crossing his arms.

"You're making them miserable," he says bluntly. You pout in a mocking sort of manner, but Peter's frown tells you that he doesn't believe you're as heartless as you typically let on.

"I thought you just came here to have breakfast with me," you switch tactics.

"Tell me what's going on with you," he pushes. You straighten up in your seat.

"Why don't you just ask them?"

"I have - they don't know. Every time they try to talk to you about it, you find some reason to run away."

"Would you like to see that first hand?"

"You can't run away from me. I'll cry," Peter insists. You sniff indignantly, mostly because you know he's right. The two of you stare at each other for a long time, and it's to your surprise that he doesn't waver. Your heart does something strange in your chest when you realize that his determination may be because this is more serious than you'd thought - you're hurting them more than you thought.

"They need to get over me, Pete," you say quietly.

"Why?" He presses.

"Because if they don't then this gets messy. None of us want that," you insist. Peter softens a bit, looking sympathetic.

"It's already messy." The bite has left Peter's voice as he reaches to pat your arm across the table. You look at his hand pointedly and he's reminded swiftly that anyone else who reached out to console you like that would get a smack from you. He smiles as he thinks of the kindness that lives in you that you seem to be blind to.

"I'll talk to them," you sigh, leaning forward to let your head thump down onto the table. Peter pats the top of your head gently and, for that, he does get a smack.

"James," your voice makes him stumble to a stop, whipping around to look at you so fast that you nearly run into him, sidestepping him at the last minute as he looks at you, bewildered.

"Are you talking to me?" He asks, confusion and surprise making his voice thick. Something painful twinges in your chest at his shock. Of course I am, you want to say. Who else would I ever want to talk to?

"Yes," is all you end up saying. James shifts on his feet and looks at you a little wearily.

"Are you ok?" He asks and a breath leaves your lungs quickly.

"I'd like to talk to you… if you have a moment?" James looks at you strangely, but he just nods and leads you out of the hall to the quiet courtyard. There's no, of course I have time for you, pretty thing. I always have time for you. It's just James, stiff and silent and hurting… because of you.

"Peter says I'm making you all miserable," you say bluntly, regret immediately seeping into you at the way James flinches, sitting on the bench in front of you slowly. You stay standing in front of him, looking down at the way he runs a hand through his curls.

"It's just," he begins, looking around as if to find the answer somewhere, or maybe just to find some way of getting away from you. "If we knew what we'd done to upset you then maybe we could make it better. You're just freezing us out, lovely, and that means we can't fix… whatever it is that's happened."

"It's not…" Now it's your turn to look around vaguely, wishing you could get out from under his sharp gaze. "It's not anything you've done. It's just - it's the way things go sometimes. It's ok, James, you just have to move on." But James's face hardens at that, a sternness you're not used to overtaking his features as he stands so that he can look you eye to eye. You have to tilt your head back to look up at him.

"That's what you want us to do? Just… move on? Forget about you? Pretend we were never friends?" The sombre tone in his voice doesn't suit him, and neither does the timid hurt in yours.

"Are we friends, James? Is that what we all are?" James blinks at that, taking a step back and sitting back down onto the bench rather abruptly. When he looks up at you this time, there's something akin to remorse swimming in his eyes.

"Is that what it is, lo-" the pet name dies on his tongue as he presses his lips together firmly. "I'm sorry. I thought - we all thought that you felt the same way about us that we do about you. We thought… we thought we were all more than friends with you and that you… I'm sorry. We never dreamt of making you uncomfortable." You scoff at his words, shaking your head fondly and toeing at the dirt by his feet with your shoe.

"Uncomfortable?" You say disbelievingly. "Please - you three are the biggest gentlemen I've ever met. I don't think you could make me uncomfortable if you tried." James's shoulders sag in relief, but the look he gives you is still that of a lost, confused puppy. You look past him to see a group of students hurrying to their next class and open your mouth to remind James that the two of you also are officially late, but he speaks before you can.

"Then what is it? Please, just… what did we do?"

"It's like I said, James… it's just a bad idea. It's wrong and I can't do this. I… we have to get to class."

But James doesn't go to class that day. He sits on that bench, staring at the place you'd been standing in, until Remus and Sirius find him that evening. And as the two of them tug him up and inside, all he can think of is how they really have lost you.

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minhosbitterriver · 2 months ago

Text

──── * ˚ ✦ ECHOES OF US ( stray kids )

❛ After a painful breakup, you and Jeongin struggle to maintain a civil front for your mutual friends, but when he accidentally calls you by your old pet name, unresolved emotions resurface, forcing you both to confront the lingering feelings between you.

𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 12.6k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 50 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Say hello to my very first long-fic! It took me an eternity to get this done, but I'm actually very proud of how it turned out! Also, my very rough draft for this was accidentally posted a few days ago, so if you saw that...no you didn't! This was anonymously requested! (Anon, I'm sorry it took me a hot minute to finally finish this, but I hope I made up for it with how long it ended up being 🫠) Reblogs for this teaser are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of sibling death and grief, very brief mention of a dysfunctional home, use of they-them pronouns for Y/N, brief explanation of sibling death, Y/N's sibling has their own name, mentions of being abandoned, heartbreak, awkward re-encounter after almost a year, discussions on mental health, a whole lot of angst, comforting ending, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥��𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

When Jeongin stepped through the door he had once shared with you, a sense of dread already coiled tightly around his heart, squeezing with every breath. He knew you'd kept your promise to move out by the end of the week, but the reality of it hit harder than he could have imagined. The front hallway, once cluttered with a chaotic jumble of shoes that you always left haphazardly by the entrance, now stood painfully bare, save for his own neatly aligned row of frequently worn sneakers. The absence of your presence echoed louder than any argument ever had, and suddenly he found himself longing for those moments of trivial annoyance—wishing, with a deep, aching desire, that he could quarrel with you about it just once more.

He kicked off his sneakers, setting them carefully amongst the rest of his now lonely footwear. For a moment, he stood there, hesitant, almost willing to call out your name, hoping against hope that you might answer from the bedroom or kitchen, your voice cutting through the oppressive silence that now smothered the apartment. But he knew better. He moved forward with heavy steps, not even bothering to put on his house slippers. The silence that greeted him as he wandered further inside was a deafening reminder of what he had lost. You were gone, and with you, the vibrant energy that had once filled these walls had vanished too.

The living room—once a collage of your combined tastes—was now stripped of the personal touches that made it home. The furniture remained, the couch where you both had laughed and argued, the coffee table marked with rings from careless mugs of tea during lazy mornings. Yet, all the little decorations, the framed art you insisted on hanging, the plants you’d tried so hard to keep alive—they had all disappeared with you. The emptiness was jarring, like a canvas half-painted and abruptly abandoned, leaving every wall and surface barren, the once warm and cozy atmosphere now reduced to a cold, unfamiliar space.

By the time Jeongin reached the bedroom, the last thread of his fragile composure snapped. The bed—where countless memories had been woven—was stripped down to its bare mattress, the sheets gone. The framed photographs of the two of you were turned face down on the bedside table, as if you couldn’t bear to look at them one last time. His eyes moved to the corner where your ridiculously large collection of stuffed animals had once spilled over, crowding half of the bed. That too was empty now. An overwhelming wave of loss washed over him, dragging him to his knees.

Jeongin's breath came out in shaky gasps as he looked around the hollow shell of what had been your shared sanctuary. You were truly gone. Though he had been the one to end things between you, a decision made in a moment of confusion and pride, he was still hopelessly, painfully in love with you. The realization of his own foolishness crashed over him with unbearable weight, suffocating him in the silence that was once filled with your laughter, your presence, and your love.

Jeongin couldn’t summon a shred of resentment toward you, even if he tried. He understood, all too painfully, that everything that had unraveled between you over the past year was nothing but a sorrowful consequence of your grief. You had once been a soul overflowing with light, always searching for the silver lining amidst the clouds, a spirit who could find a glimmer of hope even in the darkest of times. You, who would often conspire with his mischievous best friend, Seungmin, forming a relentless duo to tease him until he’d feign a pout, forcing you to shower him with kisses until he laughed again. You, who came home every evening brimming with stories about the children you counseled at the school, your eyes alight with passion and care for each of them. All that Jeongin had loved so deeply about you seemed to have been buried alongside your sister, Nari, and this loss was a truth he still grappled with, even now.

As he crawled onto the empty, cold bed that had once been a warm sanctuary for both of you, Jeongin curled into himself, his body folding inward as if trying to shield himself from the harsh reality. His sobs came in ragged waves, tearing through him so violently that he trembled, his breath hitching with each shaky inhale. He missed you more than words could convey—he missed everything about you. The sound of your laughter echoed in his mind like a haunting melody, its tones shifting with your moods: soft and lyrical when merely amused, and loud, unrestrained when joy truly overwhelmed you. He missed those sounds, the ones that used to fill this now desolate space with life and love.

He missed the lazy afternoons you'd spend together, brainstorming new exercises for his music therapy sessions. Those moments would often devolve into impromptu concerts, filled with your carefree, barefoot dancing across the living room floor and his voice following your lead, blending into a harmony of shared happiness. It was in those moments that everything felt right in the world, where nothing existed but the two of you, lost in your own little universe of melodies and movements. He missed those afternoons like one misses the warmth of the sun after too many days of rain.

He missed teasing you in those quiet moments when you were deeply focused, often catching you sticking your tongue out ever so slightly—a quirk of concentration that never failed to endear him. He’d gently pinch it between his fingers, earning himself a mildly exasperated huff as you’d swat his hand away. But he knew that a smile would inevitably creep up on your lips, and you’d turn away to hide it, cheeks flushing with a mix of amusement and affection. It was the kind of simple, tender moment that spoke volumes about the depth of your bond, a bond that now felt irreparably severed.

Every corner of this home whispered memories of you, and he was haunted by them all—the good, the bad, the ones that made him laugh, and especially those that made him cry. Your absence left a void that nothing could fill, a hollow silence where there had once been laughter and love. And even though he knew it was your grief that had driven a wedge between you, he couldn’t help but wish he could find a way back to you, to the person you used to be, and to the love that once made him feel whole.

The night that shattered your world was meant to be a day of celebration: your younger sister Nari’s high school graduation. Jeongin could still see you in his mind's eye that morning, almost vibrating with pure, uncontainable joy. Your eyes were bright, brimming with excitement, and your smile—so wide and beautiful—tugged at his heart each time it graced your lips. Nari was the center of your universe, your pride, your joy, your true soulmate in a world that often felt uncertain and cold. You had been more than just a sister to her; you had been her guardian, her comforter, her everything. You were the one who took on the weight of raising her through the chaotic turmoil of your parents' messy divorce, providing stability where there was none.

Jeongin could recall countless times Nari would recount how you shielded her from the constant, venomous arguments that echoed through your childhood home. Despite your own young age, you found ways to distract her, to pull her out of the chaos—whether it was with whispered jokes or made-up games that filled her mind with something brighter than the screaming. To Nari, you were a star, someone who had hung the moon just for her. She often spoke with a mix of awe and adoration about the afternoons you both spent sneaking into the little ice cream shop on the way home from school, spending hours laughing over melting cones until you were sure your mother had left for work.

Jeongin also remembered the quiet, tender moments he would witness after you had graduated and moved out. Nights when Nari would sleep over, curled up beside you, as if you were her very own safe haven in a world that could be so unforgiving. There was a beauty in how you held her close, how you seemed to provide her with an anchor when everything else felt adrift. Yet, no relationship, no matter how deeply cherished, is without its storms. For as vividly as Jeongin could remember the soft, loving moments, he could just as clearly recall the bitter weeks leading up to Nari's graduation—weeks marked by harsh words and heated arguments.

You and Nari shared many things—your fierce loyalty, your protective instincts—but perhaps most notably, the sharp edge of your words. When tempers flared, both of you possessed a mercilessly cutting tongue that could lash out with a force that left deep, stinging wounds. Jeongin hated those fights, hated the cruel things you would shout at each other in the heat of the moment, words that cut so deeply and yet meant nothing once the anger faded. The conflict had started when Nari began dating an older guy who had already graduated. Neither you nor Jeongin liked him, sensing the danger in his recklessness, his penchant for illegal activities that threatened to drag your sister down a path she wasn't prepared for. But Nari, stubborn and convinced she had found the love of her life, refused to listen. The tension between you both grew unbearable, each argument driving another wedge between you and your beloved sister, and Jeongin could do nothing but stand helplessly on the sidelines, watching as she slowly pushed you away.

The real fracture came on what should have been a night of celebration. Nari was supposed to have dinner with you and Jeongin to celebrate her graduation. She promised to meet you both, to share in the joy of her achievement, but instead, she turned off her phone and ran off with her boyfriend to a party that everyone knew would be dangerous. For hours, you and Jeongin called and texted, reaching out to everyone who might have known where she was, each unanswered ring heightening the tension, every minute stretching into a painful eternity.

And then, the call came—the one that brought your entire world crashing down. Nari had been found dead inside her boyfriend’s car. Both were intoxicated when he decided to drive, his recklessness steering them straight into a tree. The impact killed them both instantly.

Jeongin would never forget the sound that tore through you in that moment, a wail of agony so deep and raw it seemed to shatter the very air around you. It was a sound that would forever echo in his heart, a haunting melody of a love lost too soon and a pain that could never be soothed.

The piercing sound of Jeongin's phone ringing in his back pocket cut through the thick, oppressive fog of memories that had been drowning him ever since he stepped into the cold, empty apartment that was once alive with the warmth of your shared moments. His body still trembled with the aftershocks of his own heartbreak, his face still wet with a cascade of tears that seemed endless. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, letting it fade away into the void of everything else that felt lost to him. But something compelled him to move, to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. The screen flashed with a name: Chan.

Jeongin’s first instinct was to let it ring out. He wasn’t sure he could bear the gentle, pity-laden concern he knew he would hear in Chan’s voice. The idea of facing someone else’s worry, of being forced to articulate the emptiness clawing at his chest, felt like too much. But he also knew that Chan wasn’t just calling for the sake of it—he was worried. Maybe that thought, the notion that someone still cared enough to reach out, was what finally convinced Jeongin to answer. With a shaky breath, he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Yes?” His voice came out rough and broken, as if he’d swallowed shards of glass, a hoarse rasp that even he barely recognized. On the other end, there was a sharp intake of breath, a small hitch that spoke volumes, followed by the sound of Chan clearing his throat in that awkward, nervous way he had when he didn’t know how to approach a delicate subject.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Chan’s voice was gentle, tentative, as if afraid that anything more might cause Jeongin to shatter completely. The simple question, so innocuous yet loaded with care, brought fresh tears to Jeongin’s eyes. He swallowed thickly, trying to keep his composure, not wanting to add more weight to Chan’s worry.

“As well as I can be...everything is gone.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, sinking like stones into the silence that followed. There was a sigh on the other end, deep and empathetic, filled with an understanding that was both comforting and unbearable.

“I’ll stop by later, yeah?” Chan’s offer came with a note of encouragement, trying to lift the heavy blanket of despair. “I can bring Minho so he can cook you some food, and we can figure out what comes next.” There was kindness in his words, an attempt to pull Jeongin from the pit he’d found himself in, but the weight pressing on Jeongin’s chest didn’t budge, didn’t ease in the slightest.

“Maybe another time, Channie, thank you,” Jeongin murmured, his voice carrying the exhaustion of someone who had been running a losing race against his own emotions. “I think I just need a few days alone.” The silence that stretched between them after was telling, thick with Chan’s unspoken disapproval. Jeongin could almost see the frown on his friend’s face, the way he’d be chewing on his lip, holding back what he really wanted to say.

Eventually, Chan spoke again, his tone carefully measured, almost as if he were walking on eggshells. “Right. Um, hey...Felix wanted to pay Y/N a visit to make sure everything’s alright and to help with the moving. The problem is, none of us really know where they moved, and we thought that maybe they might’ve told you or something?”

The mention of your name was like a punch to the gut, a sharp twist of the knife that had already been embedded in his heart. Jeongin’s breath caught, and he could feel his throat tightening, the sting of tears threatening to spill over once more. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to stay composed, to not break apart all over again.

“No,” he sighed after a moment, rolling onto his back and staring up at the empty, featureless ceiling that seemed to stretch on like an abyss. “I thought you guys would’ve known... but maybe Y/N needs some time alone for a while too. I’m sure they’ll call when they’re ready.”

The words felt hollow, a brittle hope that tasted more like ash on his tongue, but it was all he could offer. And in the silence that followed, Jeongin could only listen to the faint sound of Chan’s breathing, the weight of their shared helplessness settling in like a cold, unwelcome presence in the room.

Jeongin had clung to a fragile hope that, in time, you would reach out to the circle of friends who had once been your shared lifeline. He never imagined that you would confide in him directly—he knew all too well that the pain of his departure still festered like an open wound. You had made it painfully clear how much you resented him for breaking things off when you needed him most. He could still hear your voice, raw with anger and hurt, echoing in his mind as you stormed out of the apartment for the last time.

But never in his darkest nightmares had he expected you to vanish completely, as if swallowed by the earth itself. There wasn't even a whisper of your whereabouts, not the faintest trace left behind to hint at where you might have gone. It was as if you had been erased from existence. When you left, you didn't just walk out of Jeongin's life—you walked away from everything that had tied you to this place. You resigned from your job as a school counselor, the one located just a short distance from Jeongin’s apartment where you had once found solace in guiding young lives through their own turmoil. Your phone number had changed, your social media accounts lay abandoned and untouched, gathering digital dust like forgotten relics of a past life.

For what felt like an eternity, each member of your once tightly-knit group of friends wore the weight of worry like a second skin, tirelessly searching for any sign of you, some confirmation that you were still out there, somewhere, still breathing. Nights were spent in hushed conversations and whispered theories, each one more desperate than the last, wondering if you were even alive. The silence you left in your wake was deafening, a void that consumed every bit of hope they tried to hold onto.

Yet, as the months dragged on and there was still no word—no signal, no letter, not even a single fleeting message—Jeongin and the others were forced to confront a harsh new reality. The absence of your presence became a palpable thing, a hollow emptiness that settled in their chests. Slowly, reluctantly, they began to understand that they might never see you again. And in that painful understanding, they had no choice but to piece together their broken hearts and try, however feebly, to move forward.

But even as they moved on, a part of Jeongin remained anchored in that lingering silence, waiting for the day it would finally break.

��•······················•✦•······················•✦

Eight months had passed since you vanished without a word, leaving behind a void that swallowed everything and everyone you once knew. Jeongin found himself seated on a low stool in the center of his sunlit office, a space designed to cradle broken spirits. The room was filled with warmth, the soft, earth-toned walls bathed in a gentle, golden glow that made it feel like a sanctuary amidst the chaos. Around him, cushions were scattered like islands of comfort, and the soft hum of a guitar rested against his body, its strings vibrating gently with each subtle shift of his calloused fingers.

In front of him, a small group sat in a circle, each person a vessel of silent sorrow. Some had their eyes shut tight, trying to shut out the world, while others stared ahead, their gazes distant, lost in the labyrinth of their own pain. Today’s session was centered around grief—a familiar theme that Jeongin had come to understand all too well. His eyes swept over the group, his expression soft and understanding, a silent invitation for them to share their burdens. Directly across from him, a young woman who had recently lost her mother sat rigid, her shoulders taut as bowstrings, her fingers anxiously picking at the frayed edge of her sleeve. Beside her, an elderly man kept his gaze fixed on his wrinkled hands, folded so tightly in his lap it seemed as if he was afraid he might fall apart if he let go.

Jeongin's fingers began to dance over the guitar strings, coaxing out a few gentle notes that floated through the room like a soft breeze on a warm day. The melody was simple, almost like a lullaby—tender and soothing, a soft hand reaching out in the enveloping darkness. It was a song he had crafted with your help, your voice whispering in his mind, guiding the melody with your mesmerizing ideas and gentle critiques. He tried not to think of you now, of the countless hours you'd spent together creating this very piece, but the memory lingered like a ghost.

“Let’s take a deep breath,” he murmured, his voice a low hum that barely rose above the delicate strumming. “Breathe in... and out. Feel the music as it moves through you.” His voice was smooth and warm as he began to sing, threading through the air like a comforting embrace. The lyrics were a balm for weary souls, speaking of finding peace amid the storm, of a quiet place where one could lay down their burdens. He watched the room with quiet intent, observing as the music began to weave its subtle magic.

The young woman’s shoulders, once so tense, began to loosen ever so slightly, her breath easing into a more natural rhythm. The elderly man’s grip on his hands softened, his fingers unclenching as if the melody had given him permission to let go, if only for a moment. Jeongin’s heart ached as he shifted the melody into a new key, a hint of melancholy now woven into the notes. His voice leaned into the emotion, allowing it to crack and falter in just the right places, like a mirror reflecting the fractures of a breaking heart.

He knew the power of those small imperfections—the way a slight fracture in the music could resonate with the cracks in a person’s soul, giving them the courage to confront their own pain. The room felt heavy with unspoken sorrow, yet somehow lighter, too, as if each note was drawing out a little of the darkness from within. And as he continued to sing, Jeongin allowed himself to feel the weight of his own grief, letting it pour into the song, knowing that sometimes, in the quiet beauty of shared pain, there was a kind of healing.

Moments later, a soft sob broke the fragile silence. The young woman's face crumpled as she brought a trembling hand to her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks in rivulets that caught the light. Jeongin’s heart ached for her, a deep, familiar pain unfurling in his chest. His mind flashed back to countless moments where he had seen that same expression etched across your own face—the anguish, the vulnerability. But he didn’t stop playing. Instead, he allowed the melody to swell, his fingers coaxing the guitar strings through the dark waters of sorrow and guiding them back toward a glimmer of hope, like a lighthouse in a storm.

“Let it out,” he murmured, his voice a soft, comforting undertone to the music. “There’s no need to hold back here.” His words were a gentle invitation, a permission to release the emotions that had been held back for far too long. And as if on cue, the room filled with the raw sounds of grief—soft, stifled sobs, muffled cries, the quiet sniffles of those who had long forgotten how to weep openly. Jeongin continued to play, his music becoming a vessel for their pain, a safe harbor where tears could flow without shame or judgment.

Across the circle, he caught a glimpse of the elderly man, his head bowed low, his lips quivering as he mouthed the words of the song. His eyes were squeezed shut, as if trying to ward off a memory too painful to face. Jeongin’s gaze softened, and he let the melody shift, his fingers moving with practiced ease into something softer, gentler—like a lull after the fury of a storm. Each note was deliberate, a quiet caress to soothe the raw edges of the room's collective sorrow. He watched as the weight of grief began to lift, ever so slightly, and the room took a deep breath, exhaling the heaviness that had clung to them like a shadow.

When the final note faded into the stillness, Jeongin let the silence settle, heavy but not suffocating. He set his guitar down gently, his eyes meeting each person’s in turn, offering a silent acknowledgment of their pain. “Thank you for sharing this space with me,” he said, his voice a soft balm even as his own heart bore the scars of past regrets. Too often did Jeongin lose sleep over how he, despite his profession, had failed to help you through your own grief. “Grief is heavy, but together, we can carry it, even if just for a moment.”

The young woman wiped at her tears, her face still etched with the rawness of her emotions, but in her eyes, there was a faint spark—a glimmer of relief, as if, for the first time in a long while, she felt a little less alone. The elderly man’s shoulders sagged, a heavy breath escaping his lips, as though a burden had been lifted, if only for a moment. Jeongin offered a small, gentle smile, a subtle curve of his lips that spoke of understanding and quiet encouragement. He picked up his guitar again, fingers brushing against the strings with a familiar, comforting touch.

“How about we end with something light?” he suggested, strumming a few upbeat chords, his eyes brightening with a hint of mischief. “Maybe a song that reminds us of hope. Even when it’s hard to see, it’s always there… waiting for us.” His words hung in the air like a promise, a tender reminder that there was light even in the darkest of places.

And so, with his voice soft but steady, Jeongin led them into another song—one that spoke of healing, of finding strength in the most shattered places, and of a quiet, enduring joy that could bloom even in the darkest seasons of life. This was a song Jeongin had written and composed in the wake of your absence, in the silence that followed your sudden departure. It was a song born of hope, crafted in those long months of not knowing, a song he had always dreamed of sharing with you. And as he sang, he let that hope fill the room, weaving through the notes, a quiet, resilient thread that held the promise of brighter days.

Nearly thirty minutes had passed since the group therapy session had officially ended, but Jeongin's office was still filled with the quiet shuffling of his patients gradually making their way out. This wasn't unusual; some of them often lingered, seeking a few more moments to connect or share their thoughts, and Jeongin never minded. He found these moments invaluable—an opportunity to touch base, to offer a final bit of encouragement or reassurance.

As Jeongin turned to watch the last patient leave, he was surprised to find his friend Changbin leaning against the doorframe. Changbin’s muscular arms were crossed over his broad chest, his eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and amusement. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and it only grew wider when Jeongin’s gaze finally met his. "Bin," Jeongin greeted with a slight bow, his dimples appearing as he returned his friend's smile. He moved toward his desk on the opposite end of the room, a space that served as both his office and a therapy room within the clinic.

Without waiting for an invitation, Changbin followed him, settling himself comfortably into the leather chair meant for Jeongin. With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Jeongin let out a small huff of amusement at his friend's antics. He took a seat in one of the smaller chairs intended for his patients, his gaze fixed on Changbin. "What are you doing here?" Jeongin finally asked, watching his friend lounging back in the chair, hands interlocked casually behind his head.

Changbin's playful demeanor slowly shifted, his eyes losing their mischievous spark as they settled into something more serious. He sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on Jeongin's desk, the sudden shift in atmosphere making Jeongin's heart pick up a little in pace. He tried to keep his expression soft, maintaining a small smile even as he braced himself for whatever Changbin had come to say.

For a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence as Changbin seemed to struggle with his words, his brows furrowing in thought. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke, "You know how Yongbok and Hannie wanted to have a joint celebration for their birthdays this Friday, right?" Jeongin's brows knit together in confusion; he hadn’t expected such a mundane topic. Still, he nodded, waiting for the real reason behind Changbin's visit.

"Well, everything will be pretty much the same... but we wanted to tell you this before you showed up." Changbin paused, his worried eyes meeting Jeongin's increasingly anxious gaze. After a deep breath, he continued, "Y/N moved back here a little over a week ago and reached out to us almost immediately. We helped them settle back down, and we've been spending some time with them, catching up on everything. Yongbok and Hannie wanted them to be included in their birthday celebration, but we also wanted to check in with you. Make sure you're okay with that first."

Jeongin felt his entire world tilt on its axis, Changbin's words crashing into him like a wave he hadn’t braced for. A million questions stormed through his mind, so fast and furious that he couldn’t quite grasp a single one. "Wait." His hand shot up, signaling his need for a pause as he shifted forward, perching on the edge of his chair. His voice, tinged with betrayal and hurt, spilled out in a rushed breath, "What do you mean Y/N moved back here a week ago? Why am I just learning about this now?"

A look of guilt shadowed Changbin's face, his expression softening with regret. "Y/N asked us not to tell you for a little bit because they weren't ready to handle it yet... but now that everything's settled, they have a new job and everything—Y/N is ready to meet with you if you'd like." He hesitated, and a flicker of panic widened his eyes as he quickly added, "But you didn't hear that last part from me. Y/N wanted to be the one to reach out at some point today or tomorrow."

The silence that followed was heavy, all-consuming, wrapping around Jeongin like a thick fog. He struggled to wrap his mind around the news of your return, the idea of seeing you again so unexpectedly unsettling. The weight of your absence, the questions left unanswered, all resurfaced in that single moment, leaving him adrift in a sea of emotions he wasn’t prepared to face.

Jeongin didn't quite know how to feel about you moving back into town after leaving him without so much as a goodbye. The news of your return stirred a storm of emotions within him, each one more complicated than the last. On one hand, he understood your reasons for leaving—the desperate need to escape from everything that reminded you of your younger sister, Nari, and the weight of your relationship with him, which had grown heavy with grief and unresolved pain. He could see why you had to flee, to distance yourself from the memories that clung to every corner of the town like shadows that wouldn't let you breathe.

But understanding didn't erase the sting of abandonment. Jeongin couldn't ignore the countless sleepless nights he’d endured, his mind spiraling into an abyss of what-ifs and could-have-beens. He thought back to the moments when your relationship had still felt beautiful and safe, long before it had quietly begun to crumble beneath the weight of tragedy. In truth, he realized, the love between you had started to fray the very moment you received the devastating news of Nari’s fatal accident. It had unraveled slowly, painfully, until there was nothing left but a hollow shell of what once was. By the time he officially ended things, the love you shared had already been gone, replaced by a haunting emptiness.

For months after you left, Jeongin had nearly driven himself to madness, caught in a vicious cycle of regret and self-blame. Every waking moment was spent agonizing over all the different ways he might have pulled you out of your grief. Could he have said something different, done something more? Could he have been more patient, more understanding? He had replayed these thoughts over and over, like a broken record stuck on a painful refrain. There was a time when he couldn’t even look at his own reflection without being reminded of his failure—his inability to be the anchor you needed in the storm of your sorrow. He blamed himself for your sudden departure, believing that if he had fought for you a little harder, if he had held on just a bit longer, maybe things would have turned out differently.

Slowly, though, Jeongin had begun to emerge from the shadows of his own grief. He had started to come to terms with the loss—not just of Nari, whom he had loved deeply through you, but also the loss of the future he had imagined with you by his side. He’d begun to accept that his own heartbreak, mixed with the suffocating weight of guilt, was something he needed to release in order to move forward. Jeongin had finally allowed himself to realize that in the grand scheme of things, staying by your side would have meant losing himself in the process, trying to bring back a version of you that had vanished the day Nari did. He’d come to understand that you were never going to be the same person again, and neither was he.

And now, just when he was starting to find a semblance of peace, you chose this moment to step back into his life. It felt like the ground he had just managed to steady himself on was beginning to shake once more. Jeongin wasn’t sure if he was ready to face you again, to reopen wounds that were only just beginning to scar over. Yet, there was also a flicker of something else—a hope, perhaps, or maybe just curiosity—about what this new chapter could bring. But whatever it was, it left him feeling unsettled, standing on the precipice of a past he had tried so hard to leave behind.

As his mind continued to swirl with a torrent of thoughts, Jeongin was startled by the bitterness that began to simmer beneath the surface of his heart. The resentment was unexpected, an emotion so potent that it almost frightened him. It clawed at him, leaving a sour taste in his mouth, a stark contrast to the calm demeanor he usually carried. But as his gaze lifted, his eyes locked with Changbin's, and he saw the concern etched in his friend's face. The anxiety in Changbin's sincere eyes was unmistakable, quietly tracking the cascade of emotions that flickered across Jeongin's vulnerable features like a storm passing through.

Despite the sharp sting of betrayal—the feeling of being kept in the dark by his closest friends, who had not only hidden your return from him but also lied to him so they could spend time with you—Jeongin found a small measure of solace in Changbin’s quiet empathy. It was as if Changbin's presence anchored him, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t navigating these turbulent waters alone. In that brief moment, Jeongin’s chaotic thoughts cleared enough for him to take a deep, steadying breath. He slumped back into his chair, his eyes dropping to his sneakers, suddenly feeling the weight of his own exhaustion. His shoulders sagged, heavy with the burden of emotions he could no longer ignore.

"I don’t know if I’ll be ready to meet with Y/N before the party," Jeongin confessed in a low murmur meant only for Changbin’s ears. The sadness in his voice was unmistakable, a raw and tender ache that clung to every word. He took a moment, trying to gather his thoughts that seemed to scatter like leaves in the wind. "But I’m not going to stand in the way of Y/N joining the birthday party—especially since it’s not my place to decide that. I’ll still be there, and I want to be as civil as possible. So, please, don’t let anyone make it more awkward than it needs to be, or I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it."

His voice trembled by the end, his courage wavering as he finally lifted his eyes to meet Changbin's once more. There was a flicker of something fragile there, something almost hopeful, despite the tangled mess of his emotions. Changbin nodded, a soft smile pulling at his lips, a small gesture of gratitude and understanding. He stood up, moving closer to lay a firm, reassuring hand on Jeongin’s shoulder—a rare show of affection, knowing how Jeongin tended to shy away from touch, especially when his emotions were laid bare like this.

"I’ll talk to the boys," Changbin promised, his voice steady, grounding. It was the most he could offer in that moment, aware of how delicate the situation was.

With that, Changbin turned and quietly exited Jeongin's office, leaving the younger man alone with his thoughts. The room seemed to close in around him, heavy with the weight of everything he was yet to fully comprehend. Jeongin remained seated, lost in the labyrinth of his own complicated emotions—anger, sadness, regret, and something else, something almost like a glimmer of hope—all swirling together in a chaotic dance that he had no idea how to untangle.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

In the three days leading up to the eagerly awaited joint birthday party on Friday—an event hosted by Chan for Felix and Jisung—Jeongin found himself ensnared in a relentless spiral of anxiety and anticipation. The looming prospect of encountering you after nearly a year of absence gnawed at him with a persistence that bordered on torment. He grappled with a thousand imagined scenarios, each one an intricate tapestry of potential outcomes and emotional landmines. The uncertainty was a constant, unsettling presence in his life.

Jeongin’s small apartment, once shared with you, had become a labyrinth of memories and regrets. He often wandered its confines, the soft thud of his footsteps a mournful echo of the unease that had taken residence in his chest. The apartment seemed to sigh with each step he took, as if mourning the lost echoes of a time when you had been there. Despite his efforts to bury himself in work, the thought of you lingered like an unwelcome shadow, a constant undercurrent that refused to be ignored. He would catch himself staring at his phone, repeatedly re-reading the message you had sent him just hours after Changbin’s visit—a message that had become both a lifeline and a tormentor.

Your text, which read:

Hey, Jeongin. It’s been a while. I know I left without much of an explanation and cut off contact... I’m sorry for how I handled things. I’m sorry for a lot of things, actually. But I wasn’t in the best place back then, and I needed time to figure things out on my own. I’m back in town now, and I’d like to talk sometime if you’re open to it. No pressure—I just feel like there are a lot of things that were left unsaid between us. Take care!

Every time Jeongin read these words, a storm of emotions would churn within him. The initial formality of your greeting felt like a cold draft from a distant past, a stark contrast to the warmth that had once existed between you. The passage of time loomed large, a reminder of the endless stretch of days that had passed since your sudden disappearance. He was struck by a poignant blend of nostalgia and pain, the abruptness of your departure a constant reminder of how unfinished your story had been.

Your apology, though a balm of sorts, stirred a complicated mix of relief and frustration within him. On one hand, it acknowledged the hurt you had caused, but on the other, it left a multitude of unresolved questions hanging in the air. Why did you leave so suddenly? Why did you sever all contact? Jeongin understood that you were not in a good place and needed space, but that understanding did little to soothe the sting of abandonment he felt. The sense of being left in the dark, coupled with a profound sadness over his inability to help you, left him grappling with a blend of guilt and anger.

The mention of wanting to talk now jolted him, a surge of conflicting emotions rushing to the surface. He was torn between the desire to reconnect and the fear of reopening old wounds. The prospect of addressing the myriad of things left unsaid between you brought with it a flood of memories—regrets, unresolved issues, and a yearning for closure. Each re-reading of your message plunged him deeper into a whirlpool of complicated thoughts and emotions, the turbulence of his feelings both paralyzing and consuming.

Ultimately, Jeongin found himself unable to craft a suitable response, and so he chose silence. His decision not to reply was one shrouded in uncertainty, a choice that left him questioning whether it was the right one. The silence that followed was both a refuge and a torment, a delicate balance between preserving his own peace and the unresolved echo of your return.

The night of the party arrived under a canopy of crisp, clear sky, the stars shimmering with an almost mocking brilliance. Jeongin drifted through the evening like a specter, his senses overwhelmed by a world that seemed too bright, too noisy, and far too indifferent to his turmoil. His apartment, once a sanctuary, had become a chaotic jumble of discarded outfits—each one cast aside with a frustrated sigh and a sense of resignation. The fabric of his clothes lay strewn about like the remnants of a battle fought and lost against his own anxiety. Nothing felt right, and the more he tried, the more he was convinced that nothing ever would.

Eventually, he settled on a modest ensemble—simple, unobtrusive, and devoid of any hint of personal flair. As he dressed, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror, and what he saw was a stranger staring back—an image of confusion and trepidation. He attempted a smile, one that was supposed to be confident and reassuring, but it fell flat, a mere shadow of what he hoped to project. By the time he arrived at Chan's place, his nerves were a live wire, sparking and fizzing with every heartbeat.

The apartment, already abuzz with the lively hum of music and the warm murmur of laughter, was suffused with the rich, inviting aroma of a feast. Jeongin took a deep breath, steeling himself before stepping into the vibrant chaos. Felix, ever the beacon of warmth, was the first to greet him. His smile was a radiant crescent, eyes sparkling with the playful twinkle of a galaxy etched upon his cheeks and nose. Felix enveloped Jeongin in a tight, enthusiastic hug, and Jeongin could almost gauge the number of drinks Felix had indulged in by the exuberance of the embrace. As he disentangled himself from the fervent welcome, he was met with a slew of half-hidden concern and reassuring smiles that nearly suffocated him with their well-meaning pity.

He made his way to the kitchen, where the counter was a tableau of gifts—boxes and bags for Felix and Han piled high in cheerful disarray. Jeongin added his own contribution to the heap and then sought refuge in the cool solace of the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water to soothe his parched throat. But then, as if fate itself had conspired to make this night even more unbearable, you appeared in the kitchen doorway.

You had been laughing lightly, a melodic sound that seemed to dance on the air, but upon spotting Jeongin, you froze mid-step. The sight of you was like a flash of brilliance in an otherwise dim landscape. You looked as radiant as ever, with a glimmer of the light that had once illuminated your eyes returning to them—a light Jeongin had once lost himself in with reckless abandon. At that moment, the gravity of his own emotions hit him with a brutal clarity. Despite having ended the relationship, he realized with a heavy heart that he was still desperately, achingly in love with you. Even after nearly a year of separation, the feelings remain undiminished.

You slowly composed yourself, though your body remained taut with the remnants of surprise. The smile you gave him was both disarming and electrifying, sending a shiver through him. With a polite bow, you greeted him, your voice soft and warm as you said, “I’m really glad to see you again, Jeongin.” The way you spoke his name made his knees feel weak, the sheer depth of his longing crystallizing in that single, familiar sound. He had not fully grasped how much he had yearned to hear his name on your lips again until that very moment.

Unable to find words, Jeongin merely bowed in return, his smile shy and tremulous. He watched you turn and leave the kitchen with a hurried pace, your earlier purpose forgotten. The realization dawned on him that he might need more than just water to navigate the emotional maelstrom of the evening.

Chan's party was a sanctuary of familiarity, a gathering of a close-knit circle of friends who had weathered years together. The night had unfolded in a haze of laughter and lively banter, and now, as Jeongin found himself pleasantly intoxicated from the endless rounds of drinking games, he couldn't help but revel in the camaraderie that had once again enveloped the room. It felt undeniably comforting to have everyone gathered under one roof again, especially you.

The past year had cast a shadow over the group's dynamic, your absence an unspoken void that lingered between them, palpable despite the silence. Yet now, with your return, the room seemed to breathe with a renewed vitality. It was as though the very air had shifted, carrying with it a sense of ease that had been sorely missed. Jeongin observed you from a distance, his gaze drawn to you as you reengaged with the group. He noted with quiet awe how you moved through conversations with an effortless grace, the same grace that had once been your hallmark.

It was apparent that you had emerged from the clutches of your grief, a revelation that stirred a profound admiration within Jeongin. The way you laughed, genuinely and freely, was a testament to your resilience. Though you had left without a word, seeking solace far away, you had returned with a newfound lightness. The laughter that now danced from your lips was a melody Jeongin had missed, a balm for the aching absence that had haunted him throughout the past year.

Jeongin watched with a bittersweet smile as you engaged with everyone—how your eyes crinkled at the corners when joy sparked within you, how they would occasionally meet his gaze with a fleeting, shy acknowledgment before darting away, leaving behind a gentle blush. Each moment was a delicate brush stroke on the canvas of your reunion, painting a picture of someone who had found a way to heal and reconnect.

The sight of you dancing playfully with Han to a song you both claimed had been crafted just for you was particularly poignant. Your movements were a symphony of carefree delight, a stark contrast to the somber image Jeongin had harbored of you. In these shared, joyful moments, as you reintegrated into the tapestry of old friendships, Jeongin felt his heart tugged with an intensity that defied explanation.

Though the effects of alcohol swirled around him, amplifying emotions and blurring the edges of reality, Jeongin knew that the depth of his feelings for you transcended any inebriation. The love he harbored was as real and potent as ever, a force that no amount of alcohol could replicate or diminish. He was falling for you once more, each glance and shared laugh reaffirming the connection that had never truly faded, only waiting for the right moment to reawaken.

Despite the undeniable truth of his lingering affection for you, Jeongin remained uncertain of how to navigate these turbulent emotions. For now, he chose to keep his feelings veiled in silence, retreating into the solitude of his thoughts. The haze of confusion was abruptly dispelled by the firm, reassuring weight of Minho’s hand settling on his shoulder, grounding him in the present moment.

Minho, his eyes glazed with the soft blur of alcohol—though not nearly as intoxicated as Felix and Han—clapped his hands together, a signal for attention. His voice, amplified by cupped hands, cut through the ambient noise of music and conversation. "Guys! Guys!" he bellowed, drawing the attention of the increasingly inebriated crowd. The room fell into a collective hush, eager eyes fixed on Minho as he continued with a grin that spoke of mischief. "As per Yongbok’s request, we’re about to kick off a game of UNO! But there’s a twist: every time someone lands a Plus Four card, we all take a shot. And the loser—well, they get a revolting concoction of mixed alcohols and juices!"

The announcement ignited a burst of enthusiastic cheers, the crowd’s energy crackling with anticipation. Laughter and playful shoves accompanied the clumsy shuffle to the circular coffee table at the heart of the living room. Jeongin, with a flicker of hope in his heart, watched as you navigated the sea of friends. His wish to have you beside him was met with a hint of disappointment as you chose a seat directly across from him, nestled between Hyunjin and Seungmin.

The seating arrangement became a familiar circle of camaraderie and chaos: You directly across from Jeongin, Seungmin to your right, Chan to Seungmin’s right, Felix to Chan’s right, Jeongin to Felix’s right, Minho to Jeongin’s right, Han to Minho’s right, Changbin to Hyunjin’s right, and Hyunjin bridging the gap between you and Changbin. The table soon overflowed with the raucous sound of drunken laughter, mischievous plotting, and playful bickering.

Jeongin found himself in an unexpected streak of triumph, his luck seemingly endless as he conquered each round of UNO. The others began to whisper suspicions of cheating, their playful accusations accompanied by slurred speech and tipsy frustration. Chan’s voice, tinged with exasperation, rose above the din. "How is it even possible that you’ve been winning non-stop?" he demanded, his words distorted by a chorus of drinks and Seungmin’s relentless strategy.

Jeongin rolled his eyes, a gesture that had become almost automatic in the face of such claims. Han, who had just suffered the fate of the foul concoction, gagged dramatically as he placed the empty cup down with a groan. The room’s attention shifted to you as you slammed your palm onto the table, a spark of mischief lighting up your eyes. The gesture was a beacon of playful challenge, and it made Jeongin’s heart flutter unexpectedly.

"Stand up then, if you’re not cheating," you teased, your voice laced with both suspicion and amusement. The room buzzed with agreement, and Jeongin could not suppress the smile that tugged at his lips as he rose to his feet. He had sobered somewhat since the game began, the action feeling less consequential for him than for the others.

Throughout the night, the games were interspersed with moments of easy banter between you and Jeongin, a reminder of the lighthearted days before the heartache had set in. Each playful remark, every shared glance, and the way you laughed at his jokes tugged at him, rekindling memories of warmth and affection. The realization of how deeply he missed the feeling of being in love with you clenched his heart painfully.

As Jeongin turned around slowly to prove his hands were empty, he couldn’t resist a smirk. "You didn’t empty out your pockets," you persisted, your stubbornness both charming and exasperating.

He met your gaze with a playful smirk of his own, the words slipping out before he could fully process their impact. "Come on, baby, don’t be like that," he said, his tone teasing.

The room fell silent in stunned unison, the playful atmosphere abruptly shifting to one of surprise and second-hand embarrassment. The weight of Jeongin’s unintended endearment hung in the air, leaving everyone, including him, to grapple with the sudden shift in the night’s delicate balance.

Jeongin’s heart sank as he watched the color drain from your face, a pallor of shock and disbelief that spoke volumes in the charged silence that followed. The name he had unintentionally let slip—a relic of a time when you were together—seemed to strike a chord deep within you. For a fleeting moment, your eyes revealed a heartache that cut through the pretense of composure you so desperately tried to maintain. The expression of hurt was almost palpable, like a silent scream against the fabric of the night.

You managed to reassemble yourself with a stubborn facade of mischief, your smile a delicate mask that barely concealed the storm within. Your words, though laced with playful banter, seemed to cut through the tension with a sharp edge. "I just think it's unnatural how many times you’ve won," you remarked with a smirk that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Jeongin’s slip-up hung in the air, a tangible weight that seemed to sour the atmosphere of the gathering. Despite your attempt to downplay the incident with a light-hearted quip, the sting of the old nickname echoed like a ghost of past intimacy, making the room feel suddenly foreign and strained. The previously buoyant mood had shifted, leaving behind an undercurrent of unease that neither the laughter nor the playful jabs could dispel.

Jeongin could feel the churning turmoil within him, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest. The game continued around him, but he found himself withdrawing, purposefully avoiding your gaze. Each stolen glance, each forced smile, was a reminder of the painful reminder of how things had changed. The night, which had started with such promise, now felt heavy and laden with unresolved emotions.

As the hour grew late and the laughter waned, the group, sensing the shift in energy, collectively decided it was time to call it a night. The revelry that had marked the evening dissolved into a subdued murmur as everyone prepared to leave. For Jeongin, the end of the night came as a relief, though it was tinged with a sense of lingering regret and an unspoken wish for things to be different.

As Jeongin made his way through the dimly lit apartment, exchanging farewells with the departing guests, he caught a fleeting glimpse of you darting out of the building. His heart, already heavy with a tumultuous mix of emotions, quickened its pace as he instinctively sought to follow. With an urgency driven by both concern and an aching need to make things right, Jeongin scrambled to retrieve his jacket and pull on his shoes, the night air already beginning to bite at his skin as he hurried after you.

He managed to intercept you just as you stepped out onto the cold street. Your name slipped from his lips before he could catch it, a desperate utterance that hung in the frosty air between you. You paused, your breath visible in the night’s chill, and both of you stood there for a moment, hearts racing in unison. Jeongin's breath came in ragged bursts as he caught up with you, the weight of his impulsive actions settling heavily on his shoulders.

“Let me walk you home,” Jeongin implored, his voice trembling slightly with a mixture of anxiety and hope. The words, simple yet laden with his longing, seemed to hang in the air, as though the night itself held its breath in anticipation of your response. Your eyes softened, reflecting a tempest of emotions as they met his, and your lips parted slightly as if struggling to find the right words.

Instead of speaking, you turned and began walking forward, your steps deliberate yet hesitant. Jeongin, interpreting your silence as tacit consent, fell into step beside you. The street stretched out before you, unfamiliar and shadowed, and the air between you was charged with unspoken sentiments and lingering regrets. Walking side by side felt oddly reminiscent of days gone by, a bittersweet echo of times shared with friends, now tinged with the ache of what had been lost.

In the week since Jeongin learned of your return, he had been trapped in a cycle of conflicting emotions. The pangs of missing you, of realizing the depth of his feelings that still burned despite everything, battled with the frustration of your unexplained departure. Each time anger threatened to overwhelm him, guilt swiftly followed, a reminder of the suffering you must have endured. His internal struggle was a storm of longing and resentment, a turbulent sea he had yet to navigate.

As he stole glances at your profile in the dim streetlight, the familiar contours of your face brought an unexpected rush of grief. Memories of your younger sister, Nari, flooded his mind—her laughter, a joyful sound that once filled the air, her enthusiastic embraces that had always greeted him with warmth. Your eyes, once so bright with shared mirth, now seemed dimmed by her absence.

The realization that Nari would never again tackle him in playful greeting, that her laughter would never again ring out, was a heavy burden. It pressed down on Jeongin’s heart, a reminder of the irreplaceable void left behind. The twinkle that once danced in your eyes when you laughed at Nari's jokes was now a distant memory, a reminder of how deeply her loss had affected both of you. As you walked together through the unfamiliar streets, the weight of these lost joys seemed to bear down on Jeongin, making each step feel heavier than the last.

Engulfed in the whirlpool of his own somber reflections, Jeongin barely noticed when you came to a halt before an old, weathered apartment building. Absorbed in his tumultuous thoughts, he continued forward for a few steps, his mind adrift in a sea of regret and longing. It was only when the melodic sound of your giggle reached his ears, a playful echo that cut through the fog of his melancholy, that he realized he was walking alone. With a start, he turned, his face flushing with a sheepish smile as he moved to stand before you.

You were standing there, your knuckles clenched tightly around the strap of your bag, a telltale sign of the anxiety simmering beneath the surface. Your lips were caught between your teeth, a nervous habit that Jeongin had come to know all too well. The sight of your distress mirrored his own internal turmoil, causing his foot to tap restlessly on the pavement as he waited for you to speak. The tension in the air was palpable, a heavy shroud that seemed to settle between you.

After a few moments of strained silence, you released a shaky breath and offered him a small, timid smile. "It was good to see you again," you said softly, the words tinged with a trace of the anxiety that laced your voice. It was the same sentiment you had voiced earlier in the night, when you had first reappeared in Chan's kitchen after an eight-month absence.

This time, Jeongin’s response came with a gravity that reflected the depth of your absence. "I’m glad you came back," he said, his voice carrying the weight of the months spent apart, yet softened by a flicker of genuine contentment.

Your smile, though hesitant, shone brightly against the backdrop of the night. It was a beacon that pierced through the haze of Jeongin’s heartache, and despite the unresolved tension, he couldn’t help but return it with a warm, albeit uncertain, smile of his own. The air between you crackled with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings, a delicate balance between the urge to bridge the gap and the inability to articulate the depth of your emotions.

As you cast an awkward glance back at the entrance of your apartment, Jeongin understood that you were grappling with the same indecision that plagued him. "This is me," you said, your voice betraying a trace of nervousness as you cleared your throat. "My place is a bit of a distance from our—sorry, your apartment. If you’re comfortable, I can offer you my couch for the night."

Despite the initial reluctance that had gripped him, the prospect of spending more time with you, however fleeting, was too inviting to resist. Jeongin found himself smiling softly, a gesture of acceptance that was both hesitant and heartfelt. Your genuine, wide smile in response seemed to illuminate the night, lifting the veil of uncertainty that had surrounded him. With a renewed sense of hope and a lingering trace of longing, Jeongin followed you inside, each step towards your apartment a tentative step towards mending the fragile thread that connected your hearts.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Your new apartment, though modest in size, exudes a quiet charm, nestled in a serene part of town far removed from the familiar streets you once traversed with Jeongin. The moment he crosses the threshold, he is enveloped by a dissonance of emotions—a strange fusion of comfort and estrangement. The space is distinctly different from the apartment you once shared, yet your presence lingers in every corner, making Jeongin feel both intimately connected and like an outsider peering into a world that has shifted just out of reach.

The living room, modestly furnished, reflects a minimalist elegance. A soft, neutral-colored couch rests against the wall, draped with a knitted throw blanket that adds a touch of warmth. This room is a far cry from the eclectic mix of your past home—a space once filled with a vibrant blend of your belongings and his—but it still bears the subtle imprint of your personality. A small shelf brims with books, many titles familiar from your old collection, but new ones have also appeared, whispering of the changes and growth you’ve experienced in your absence. The windowsill cradles a few houseplants, their greenery a delicate contrast to the sprawling flora that once filled your old living space. They are smaller, more contained, reflecting a more subdued chapter of your life.

Jeongin’s gaze drifts to the walls, bare and unadorned, stark in their emptiness. Gone are the framed photos and art prints that once animated every corner of your shared apartment. The absence of pictures—particularly those of the two of you—leaves an unexpected sting, a painful reminder of what has been left behind. Instead, there is a single framed photograph of your younger sister on a side table by the window, surrounded by a cluster of candles. It stands as a quiet tribute, a poignant memorial that tugs at Jeongin’s heartstrings, reminding him of the grief that ultimately drove a wedge between you both.

The apartment is imbued with a subdued quietness, a stark contrast to the lively energy of your former home, where laughter and soft music once intertwined to create a vibrant ambiance. Here, the atmosphere is more solitary, introspective, as if the space has been intentionally crafted as a sanctuary for healing—a refuge from the chaos of the past. A small kitchen table, cluttered with a few empty glasses and a half-read book, suggests many solitary evenings spent with your thoughts, lost in the pages or gazing into the distance, ensnared by memories.

The kitchen itself bears no evidence of the late-night culinary adventures you used to drag him into, those joyous moments of laughter and flour-covered countertops. As Jeongin takes in the scene, he is overwhelmed by a complex weave of emotions—nostalgia for what was, sorrow for what has been lost, and a poignant ache for the version of you who now stands before him. The differences are striking, revealing a careful, deliberate solitude you’ve constructed around yourself in this new space. It feels as though you’ve created a bubble of tranquility, a place where you can breathe freely from the weight of the past, and he wonders if there is still a place for him within it or if you have moved on to a new chapter without him.

The emptiness of your new apartment weighs heavily on him. It’s not merely the physical void but the absence of the vibrant, unfiltered you that he used to know. Standing there, a guest in what might have been his world, Jeongin is acutely aware of how much has changed and how deeply he still yearns for the comfort of what once was, now replaced by the stark reality of what is.

As Jeongin steps into your new apartment, he takes in its subtle details with a blend of curiosity and nostalgia. You move about with a quiet, almost anxious energy, as if the mere act of tidying is a way to manage the fluttering tension between you. Your hands, unsure of their purpose, engage in small, inconsequential tasks: smoothing the corner of the knitted blanket draped over the couch, adjusting the book that rests on the kitchen table, and shifting a houseplant slightly to the left. It is evident that you are aware of his gaze, but you strive to give him space to absorb his surroundings.

The silence stretches until you break it, your voice soft yet resolute. "It's not much, but... it's mine." There’s a delicate balance in your tone, a mixture of pride laced with vulnerability. You glance at him, seeking to gauge his reaction, your eyes reflecting a world of untold emotions. As you move towards the small kitchen area, you open a cabinet and retrieve two glasses. "Do you want some water? Tea? I think I have some wine if you'd prefer that." Your words tumble out in a gentle stream, an attempt to fill the quiet with something tangible, yet they carry an earnestness that reveals your underlying uncertainty about where you both stand.

Jeongin watches you, his gaze softening as he observes the careful grace of your movements—each gesture imbued with a quiet protectiveness, as if you're safeguarding something tender within yourself. The silence deepens for a moment before he responds, his voice subdued and tentative. "Water's fine." It is clear that he is navigating this new terrain with caution, his tone reflective of the delicate balance between past familiarity and present distance. You nod and move towards the fridge, your back turned to him as you pour the water.

Jeongin’s eyes wander around the apartment once more, deliberately avoiding the back of your head as you focus on the task at hand. When you hand him the glass, your fingers brush against his, sending a shiver through him. It’s a sensation he’s not quite accustomed to after all this time apart. He accepts the glass with a quiet "thanks," savoring the cool water as it soothes his dry throat.

"Let’s sit," you suggest, motioning towards the couch. There is a steadiness in your voice that carries a quiet confidence, reminiscent of the times you had managed to ground him amidst the chaos. Jeongin follows you and settles beside you on the couch. The cushions feel foreign and different from those he remembers, amplifying his sense of longing for the comfort of the home you once shared.

For a brief moment, Jeongin is at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the tangled emotions in his chest. He is unsure where to begin, but you gently ease the tension. "How’s work been?" you inquire, your voice a soothing balm to the heaviness in the room. "Are you still at the same clinic?"

Grateful for the opening, Jeongin nods. "Yeah, still there. We started a new program recently... working with kids who've been through some really tough stuff. It’s been challenging, but rewarding." He watches as your eyes soften, a sign of the empathy and kindness he’s always admired in you. The sight of your genuine smile, the one he’s missed so dearly, is like a balm on a wound that has long ached.

"That sounds so nice. You've always been so good with children." Your compliment is heartfelt, and Jeongin feels a pang of longing.

He responds with a light-hearted joke, "That’s more your area of expertise," referring to your work as a school counselor. You chuckle softly, taking a sip of water, and Jeongin senses there’s more you wish to share.

"And... what about everything else? How have you been holding up?" Your question is gentle but probing, and Jeongin’s grip tightens around his glass.

"It’s been... different," he admits. "The apartment feels empty without you there. Like something’s missing."

Jeongin hadn't intended for his words to emerge with such raw intensity, but they tumble out before he can rein them in. He watches as they land upon you, the way your gaze falls and a shadow of sorrow flits across your face. "I'm sorry," you murmur, the words almost lost in the quiet of the room. "For leaving like that. I didn’t know what else to do."

Your apology strikes a chord deep within him, a resonance of shared pain and regret. "I know," he replies softly, his voice carrying the weight of understanding. "I don’t really blame you. We both had to figure things out." The atmosphere between you shifts, the earlier tension giving way to something more tender—like an old wound beginning to mend.

Jeongin sits beside you on the couch, his nerves stretched taut, a wire humming with unspoken words. His hands are clenched in his lap, a desperate attempt to hold himself together as the silence stretches, thick and heavy. His gaze is drawn to you, to the way you hold your glass of water—fingers wrapped around it as if it were a lifeline, anchoring you to some semblance of normalcy.

He recognizes that look in your eyes—the one that signals you are about to reveal something profound, something that has been weighing on you. "When I left," you start, your voice so faint it nearly dissolves into the air. Jeongin’s breath catches in his throat. He had no clear expectations for the evening, but he can feel that whatever is coming will be laced with pain.

"I didn’t really have a plan," you continue, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession. "I just... needed to get away." He watches as your eyes drift to the water in your glass, your reflection shimmering and distorted. The impulse to reach out and offer comfort is almost overwhelming, but he remains still, his focus entirely on you.

"I ended up halfway across the country," you say, your voice gaining a faint thread of strength. "I reached out to Lily. You remember her, right? From college?" Jeongin nods, a wistful smile tugging at his lips despite the ache in his chest. He recalls Lily’s vivacious spirit, her constant care for you, and feels a pang of gratitude that she was there for you in a way he couldn't be.

"She didn’t ask questions; she just told me to come," you add. Jeongin’s heart clenches at the image of you in a strange, distant place, the weight of your grief looming like an oppressive storm. He loathes the thought of you feeling so alone and adrift, needing to travel so far for solace.

"She lives in this tiny coastal town," you continue, your voice lightening slightly as you recall the memory. "For a while, I thought maybe that was what I needed—being somewhere far away from everything." Jeongin can almost visualize it—a serene seaside town where the waves gently erase footprints, a place where time seems to stretch indefinitely, offering a balm for the wounded soul.

Yet, beneath the surface of your words, Jeongin senses an undercurrent of dissatisfaction. The coastal retreat, while soothing, evidently fell short of the healing you sought. His heart aches, burdened by the realization that he wasn’t able to provide the support you needed, even as he too was grappling with his own struggles. The distance between your shared past and the present feels vast, and he yearns for a way to bridge that gap, to be the anchor you needed, even though he was floundering himself.

You pause, and Jeongin watches as you swallow hard, the movement of your throat a testament to the weight of your words. "I eventually realized that it wasn't enough," you say, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. "I needed more help. So, I checked myself into a grief recovery program..." The words falter, and Jeongin feels a tightening in his chest, the emotion reflected in your wavering tone. "A place where people go when they've lost someone and don't know how to keep living."

He stares at you, his vision blurring as he grapples with the magnitude of your suffering. He's known grief, but seeing it through your eyes—so raw, so utterly consuming—is a new experience for him. Guilt crashes over him like a relentless wave. He wasn't there for you. He couldn't help. He didn't even know how to begin.

Jeongin opens his mouth, an apology poised on his lips, but you continue, your voice cutting through the silence with a quiet determination. "There were days I wanted to leave, but I stayed. I wrote a lot. I planted a small garden there, just to feel like I was nurturing something again, you know? And slowly, I started to remember things without feeling like they were completely breaking me."

His hands tremble in his lap, the truth of your words stirring a deep regret within him. He should be happy that you found a way forward, relieved that you began to heal, but instead, he is overwhelmed by the ache of not being there for you—by the realization that he had abandoned you when you needed him most. His eyes search yours, desperate for some sign that you don’t harbor hatred towards him.

"I can't imagine what that must've been like," he finally manages, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry I ended things when you needed me. I didn’t know how to help you through it, and I—"

You shake your head, a wistful smile curving your lips. "I didn’t know how to let you help me, either. And I wasn’t ready to accept Nari’s death and move on yet. That’s why I left." Your words settle into the spaces between his ribs, a cold weight pressing heavily on his chest. He wants to explain, to tell you that he was lost too, that he struggled to keep his own head above water while watching you drown. But he stays silent, knowing that this moment belongs to you, just as much as it does to him.

"I needed to find a way to live with the grief," you say softly, "to not let it define every part of me. And maybe I needed to see if I could come back and face everything, including you."

Jeongin’s heart skips at that, a flicker of hope igniting within him. There is a softness in your eyes that he hasn't seen in so long, a hint of something that almost resembles hope. He takes a breath, feeling a slight loosening of the weight of his own regrets. "I'm glad you did," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I missed you—missed this, even if it wasn’t always easy."

You nod, and he sees a myriad of emotions dance across your face—relief, uncertainty, and perhaps the faintest trace of affection. There is much to unpack, many layers to explore, but for now, this moment of quiet honesty, of shared pain and cautious hope, feels like a tentative step towards understanding.

Jeongin notices his hand is closer to yours than he had realized, and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what it would be like to reach out, to touch your skin once more. But he doesn’t. Not yet. For now, he is content to sit beside you, to listen, and to cherish the hope that this—whatever it is—might be the beginning of finding each other again.

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🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

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pinkydevil16 · 4 months ago

Text

Eric Northman x Stackhouse!Reader

18+ Word count: 15k+

Triggers: attempted rape, blood, violence

Y/n grit her teeth as she stood next to Sookie in Fangtasia, the blonde in a white and red dress which looked like she was coated in blood whilst Y/n wore a t shirt and jeans hoping to blend into the background as Bill spoke to the blonde viking on a throne. Y/n wasn't quite sure how she had been roped into all this, her sister had always been different, and Y/n was protective as any sister would be.

"So why are we playing live bait right now?" Y/n questioned as she looked around, Sookie shushing her as she tried to read their lips until the viking curled him finger towards them, Y/n wanting to face palm as Bill nodded and encouraged them up.

"Why God why." Y/n mumbled to herself as she followed Sookie, Bill stood stoically next to Sookie as Y/n hung back, her mind trying to think of ways out of the situation but she knew she couldn't do anything against a vampire.

"This is Eric Northman, he's the Sheriff."

"Sookie Stackhouse and Y/n Stackhouse." Y/n looked at the viking as he looked her up and down with a smirk, Y/n keeping her expression blank as she took him in. He was intimidating, anyone who said he wasn't would be a liar or a much more powerful vampire, being human meant he could snap her in half without so much as blinking.

"It's nice to meet you." Sookie's voice was sweet as she held onto Bill's hand, her other taking Y/n's as she read her thoughts.

"Well aren't you sweet." Eric's voice was deep as he looked over Sookie as Y/n interjected.

"Not really, it's just the hospitality in her." Y/n squeezed Sookie's hand as Bill shot her a look, Y/n scowling back at him as Eric stood and looked down at her.

"Miss Stackhouse i understand you have been asking questions to my customers, if you have something to ask you should ask it of me." Although his demand was directed at Sookie he kept his eyes on Y/n as she tried not to look away, reminding herself it was like dealing with an animal.

"Alrighty then." Sookie's voice brought Eric's attention from Y/n as she let out a breath, her eyes now finding the beautiful blonde in a black corset as she leant against Eric's chair, her pointed eyes staring straight into Y/n's soul as she looked away. Eric sat down as Sookie showed him the photos of the girls.

"I am not done with you yet." Eric's voice jumped Y/n out of her trance, having been lost in her thoughts, Sookie's hand now squeezing Y/n's tightly as Eric looked over the both of them.

"Please...sit." His tone seemed playful as he gestured to the chair next to him, Bill nodding at Sookie as she took a seat, Y/n standing next to her sister before the blonde vampire brought another chair and placed it the other side of Eric. Y/n stared at the blonde before looking at Eric, his expression daring her to challenge him as she looked at Sookie before sitting.

"So are you quite attached to your friend?" Eric smirked as Bill quickly growled out that Sookie was his, Y/n could now feel her palms begin to sweat as her need to fight or flight was becoming more and more apparent.

"Yes, i am his." Sookie confirmed, her voice confident before Eric turned his gaze to Y/n, his eyes looking her up and down as he spoke.

"Your judgement has always been clouded Bill, especially when you have such a special human here." Y/n looked back at Sookie in confusion before Eric turned his head back to Bill, the two speaking as Y/n gave Sookie a panicked look and kept darting her eyes to the exit hoping her sister would get the gist.

"You need to leave, there's going to be a police raid." Sookie suddenly spoke, urgency in her voice as she stood and grabbed Y/n's hand, looking to Bill for help as Eric began questioning her. Seconds later Y/n stood outside, the world had moved quickly around her as she stumbled, her trainers planting firmly on the ground as she adjusted to her surroundings and looked for Sookie. Eric took advantage of Y/n's confusion, pushing her against the wall as he leaned over her with a smirk.

"What is that scent Miss Stackhouse? What are you?" Y/n stuttered before Eric was gone, Sookie and Bill now fussed over her as she tried to explain what happened but in truth even she was unsure.

Y/n bent over the table at merlottes, wiping it down before taking the napkins and cutlery out her pocket and placing it down in the assigned seats at the booth, her head turning to the door as it dinged. More customers, looking at the time she sighed, two hours left and she was done for the weekend, she wanted to get home quickly so she could spend some time with her Gran before she went to bed.

"Orders up." Lafayette called out as Y/n welcomed the three men in, seating them at the table she had just cleaned and took their drinks order. Collecting the food she served it to a nearby table and collected the three beers before placing them down.

"Would ya'll like some food?" Her voice was sweet but she could see the men were anything but worthy of such kindness, they were dressed in camouflage and she imagined some poor deer was in the back of their pick up truck after a hunt.

"Three burgers hot stuff, and your number." The leader smirked as the other two laughed, Y/n putting on a fake smile as she took the menus and tucked them under her arm.

"Three burgers, do you want normal or curly fries?" The man leant back so he could stare at her ass, his buddies all laughing as they took a swig from their beer.

"Normal and don't forget that number, you got a sweet ass and i could give you a hell of a ride." Y/n gave them a tight lipped smile and walked away, the men laughing as they talked loudly about her body, taking a deep breath she rang in the order.

"You alright sweetness?" Lafayette spoke, placing a plate of fries in front of Y/n with a side of her favourite sauce which she gave him a thankful smile and dipped a fry into it before eating it.

"Yeah just some jackasses who think they own the world." Lafayette looked behind Y/n to see the men moving their hands about sexually as they looked over at Y/n making him scowl as he looked back at his friend.

"You want me to deal with them?" Y/n shook her head as she ate another fry and got back her composure.

"Maybe just spit in their food for me." Y/n gave him a cheeky grin as she walked away, Lafayette laughing as she walked behind the bar and grabbed three more beers. She could see them tipping their current ones up and she didn't want anymore lewd comments so she quickly dropped the next round off and walked away.

"Y/n." Sam called out as he poked his head out his office, Y/n looking up as he waved her in with a small smile, following him she grabbed her fries and sauce before sitting cross legged on his sofa and continuing to eat her snack.

"You alright kiddo?" Y/n nodded with a smile as she reached over to where Sam had an open beer, drinking it as she enjoyed her fries, Sam smiling softly at her as he looked over the schedule.

"You don't want extra hours do ya? Cos Arlene's had to drop two shifts cos the kids need picking up." Y/n put out her hand and opened and closed her hand, Sam laughing as he handed it to her and she totted up the hours and extra pay before nodding and handing it back.

"You got it boss, but you owe me alright? I expect to be bribed with a bottle of your finest vodka." Sam laughed as he agreed shaking her hand, promising to give it to her next time she was in. Grinning Y/n stood, putting her empty take out box in the bin and wiping her hands on her apron, checking the time as she saw she only had 30 minutes left.

"Foods up." Y/n grabbed the three burgers as she balanced them on her arms and walked towards the now tipsy men, placing the burgers down with a smile.

"Any sauces?" Y/n should have know what was to come as the men laughed and leaned closer.

"I can give you some sauce sweetcheeks, bend over and i'll cover ya." Y/n's eye twitched before she let out an overly exaggerated laugh making the men move back as she almost doubled over in false laughter.

"Wow! That is just so funny! You should share that with everyone here because wow, comedians." Y/n then deadpanned and placed the bill down, walking towards the bar as she began serving the regular patrons with a normal smile.

"Fuckin bitch." One of them mumbled before they slammed down $40 and left, the money barely covering their tab as Y/n waved with a sickly sweet smile.

Y/n waved bye to Sam as she left her shift, walking into the carpark towards her car before a pickup truck almost hit her, the truck stopping infront of her as she fell back with a cry. The three men jumped out the truck as with grins, Y/n's eyes full of panic as she got up and tried to run but they were quicker, grabbing her ponytail and yanking her back as she fell to the ground in front of them.

"Gonna teach you a lesson you fuckin bitch." The same man from before spoke in her ear before he slammed his foot into her back, forcing her face down into the dirt as she began trying to fight, hot tears running down her face as she tried to scramble away.

"Get off me!" Y/n screamed, managing to turn on her back and dig her nails into the leaders face, feeling his skin under her nails as she listened to him curse out before he smacked her in the face. Looking at her hand she saw the blood, a surge of pride going through her before she felt her arms be pinned down, the leader now stood in front of her as he began unbuckling his trousers.

"You fuckin' whore, i'm gonna make you regret that." Y/n kicked out her legs, but the men holding her top half down were strong and three against one was never a fair fight. As she felt his hands touch her shorts she screamed, two small bolts of light coming out her hands and forcing the two men off. The leader's eyes widened as he fell back, his friends now halfway across the carpark and unconscious as the door to Merlotte's opened and Lafayette ran out with a meat cleaver.

"You get away from her!" The leader bolted up, Lafayette swinging at him before he managed to get into his truck, Sam writing down the license as Lafayette helped Y/n up. Her hair covered in dirt as she hugged Lafayette still panicked and afraid.

"I'm calling Sook." Y/n nodded as Lafayette helped her inside, he left for a moment before coming back with a dark red drink and telling her to down it. Y/n agreed and coughed as she drank the strong concoction but it made her feel better knowing Lafayette and Sam were there.

"You alright sugar?" Lafayette sat across from her as he leant over and pushed her hair out her face, picking out a few pieces of dirt as Y/n gave him a small smile.

"I'm okay, just shaken up, i'm just thankful you came out when you did." Lafayette nodded, he'd been out the back having a smoke when he'd heard a scream.

A few minutes later and Sookie was there, she looked shaken up as she ran in, her eyes darting around before she found Y/n and the pair and ran to each other. Sookie hugged Y/n close as she ran through her thoughts and almost cried as she saw the events unfold, Y/n clutched Sookie as she felt her riffling around in her mind.

"Well isn't this touching." Eric's voice made Sookie and Y/n split as Bill and Eric stood in the doorway, Sookie looked towards Sam as he scowled at the two vampires. Lafayette was quick to disappear into the back hoping to remain unseen.

"Are you alright Miss Y/n?" Bill spoke, Y/n nodding slowly as she kept her eyes on Eric, a confused look on her face as he looked around merlottes in disgust at the back swamp bar compared to Fangtasia.

"I'm okay just...yeah." Y/n didn't know what else to say as Eric turned his attention to her and looked her all over, he acted as though with one look he could pick her apart and see into her soul like Pam had.

"We're taking you home." Y/n looked back at Sookie with a smile as her sister grasped her hand and pulled her towards Bill.

"So why was Eric there?" Y/n asked as she bit into a burger, wiping her mouth as Sookie sighed and sat up on the sun lounger.

"I told you already, he came to ask, well more demand, for me to help him find out who's been stealing money. We were gonna leave when Sam called and i refused to leave. He was surprisingly okay with delaying. He's so creepy." Sookie shivered as she laid back down, Y/n nodding as she finished her burger, wiping her hand together before laying back on her sun lounger.

"Is Gran excited for tonight?" Sookie sat up with a beaming smile as she began explaining how Gran and the other people in her club were excited to meet Bill and be able to ask him questions.

"She's so cute, does she have her notebook ready?" Y/n grinned as Sookie nodded and went on and on about how Bill was excited aswell to be able to share his experience and have a positive relationship with other humans in Bon Temp.

Y/n yawned and stretched before rubbing her eyes, she'd had a nap during the day to get ready for tonight, her Gran was ecstatic as Y/n came down the stairs.

"Oh Y/n, it's almost time to go!" Y/n grinned as she took her Gran's arm and the pair began their way to the event. Her Gran talked her ear off the whole walk, showing her the questions on her notebook.

Y/n waved goodbye to each of the members as they excited the church, her Gran walking back with a few of the members as she encouraged Y/n to stay.

"That was a good night." Y/n spoke as she walked towards Sookie and Bill, the pair chatting happily as Y/n sat beside them.

"It was indeed Miss Y/n, i'm glad your Grandmother enjoyed it." Y/n smiled as she recalled how happy her Gran had been.

"Anyway i'm going to walk home." Y/n stood, slapping her knees as she looked at the love sick pair, Bill smiling at Sookie as he pushed some of her hair back.

"I'm assuming you'll be home later?" Sookie nodded before hugging Y/n.

"We'll walk you home incase that murderer is out there."

Y/n screamed out as she saw her Gran, Sookie fell next to her as she pushed her Gran onto her back and begged her to wake up. Y/n fell to her knees and her hands shook as she stared at the blood covering her hands, her Gran's blood, Sookie now had her head against her Gran's chest as she cried. Bill stood by the door, his hand over his mouth as he inhaled the blood, his eyes darting around as he tried to find any scent of the murderer, rushing around the property but there was no sign of anyone.

Y/n stood in the kitchen, her black dress smoothed under hands as she anxiously pushed it down once more, her eyes on the multitude of people who walked in and out of the house. Sookie was upstairs splashing her face after her outburst at the funeral, Y/n's couldn't blame her, if she could hear everyone's thoughts she'd have been locked in a looney bin years ago.

Everything was finally over and Y/n sat at the table staring at her Gran's pie, she had screamed at Maxine for touching it and now she was sat with a fork in her hand and tears in her eyes as she took a bite. Sobbing as she chewed, Sookie came down the stairs and looked at Y/n for minute before joining her, the pair sobbing as they ate the last remaining memory of their Gran and took solace in each others grief. After they'd finished the pie Y/n took herself upto bed, exhausted from the last few days and honestly done with humans, vampires or whatever else was out there, she wanted her Gran. She heard Sookie leave, but she couldn't seem to care as she curled up into her duvet and cried herself to sleep.

Eric grinned as he watched Y/n and Sookie enter, the latter in a white dress and looking pissed as she looked at Eric whilst Y/n wore black jeans and hoodie, her eyes hidden by dark circles. Y/n sat on the bar as she grabbed a bottle of vodka and a glass, pouring herself large shots and downing them as Sookie interviewed each human and declared them innocent. Y/n felt the air shift beside her as Eric appeared, his body too close for her liking as she sneered at him and shuffled further away.

"Don't be so shy Y/n, not when you're drinking from my bar for free." He flashed her a fang-filled grin as she gave him a fake smile back and downed another shot, she wondered what it was like to have no fear like Eric. Sure Bill was powerful but he still cowered and bent under Eric's will, it was an odd thing to see, since Bill held himself at a higher calliper than Eric yet couldn't beat him.

"They're innocent." Y/n called out as Sookie nodded to Bill, taking the attention off herself and back to the waitress who sat across from Sookie. Y/n decided she had drank enough for a good buzz, placing the vodka back as she held the glass in her hand and twirled it as she watched Ginger be sat down. The poor woman looked like she'd been dragged through a bush too many times in her life and had ended up here, Sookie began pouring through her mind until she scowled. Y/n hopping off the bar and standing behind Sookie as she tilted her head and stared at Ginger, a lightbulb basically appearing above Y/n's head as she looked at Sookie.

"She's been glamoured." Y/n felt proud of herself as Sookie explained Ginger knew how took it but there was a block, one only a vampire could create. Before anyone could react Longshadow rushed towards Sookie, shoving her backwards and onto a table as Y/n went flying backwards into the chairs. Her head knocking harshly the wood as she tried to stand but a sudden rush of water forced her back down as chunks of vampire and gallons of blood spurted across the room, coating Sookie head to toe as she screamed out. Bill stood over her, a stake in his hand as Eric looked unimpressed nodding to Pam who grabbed Sookie and Y/n taking them to the bathroom. Y/n luckily was able to wash off the blood, removing her hoodie which covered a tank top which had stayed dry. However Sookie was not so lucky and all Pam had to offer was a leather get up which made Y/n giggle at Sookie's expression.

"Sorry." Y/n mumbled as Sookie glared at her, Y/n wiping off the remains of Longshadow out her shoes as she sighed and looked in the mirror. She couldn't deny she looked like shit, she guessed Grief did that to a person and yet Sookie looked radiant in grief, maybe it was to do with her relationship with Bill. Maybe Y/n needed to get back on the horse and try to find something other than work and her fucked up home life to take up her time. Y/n rubbed her face and called out Sookie letting her know she was going to get another drink, Sookie asked for a beer and Y/n laughed and left the bathroom. Entering the bar she cringed as she watched Ginger gag as she cleaned up Longshadow, her little outfit covered in blood aswell as her knees and hands whilst Pam and Eric watched.

"Ahh Y/n, such a shame you didn't need a new outfit." Y/n gave Eric a mocking smile and walked towards the bar as she looked through the stock, feeling the air change as it had earlier, Eric leaning over her as he inhaled loudly.

"Could you be any creepier?" Y/n asked as she poured herself a rum and coke, grabbing out a beer as she went to walk around Eric but he gripped her arm and brought her towards him.

"You are you bleeding, let me fix that for you." Y/n went to object as she felt the throb in her forehead, Eric running his finger over her cut and collecting the blood, placing it in his mouth with a smirk before biting his finger and placing his blood over the cut. Y/n felt it heal instantly, her eyes widening as she watched his lick her blood off his finger again, her hands shaking slightly as she held the drinks tightly and coughed moving away.

"Thanks." Y/n mumbled out, side stepping Eric as Bill walked out with Sookie, her sister moving close to her as Y/n handed her the beer and the two stood watching the tension between the vampires.

"You have 24 hours to think about my offer Bill." Eric's voice seemed more powerful as he looked at Bill with menace, the latter nodding before the three took their leave, Y/n giving Bill a confused look but he ignored her.

"Want to divulge what that last bit was about William?" Y/n pressed as Bill drove, her hands on Sookie's seat as she pulled herself half into the front to irritate Bill, the vampire looking at her then Sookie before talking.

"I killed a vampire tonight, it is against our laws and Eric has said he will hand me over to the magistrate unless i give him Y/n in exchange for his silence. I refused so he has given me the day to think about what is more important." Y/n's jaw dropped as she looked back at Sookie, her sister wearing the same expression as they both looked at Bill, Y/n dropping back in her seat and crossing her arms with a pout.

"Like hell am i being given to that viking prick, who does he think he is? Demanding you give me over huh!" Y/n seethed in her seat, recalling how Eric had technically drunk her blood and healed her cut but all she wanted was to wring his neck. Bill began explaining how serious it was but that he would never do that to Sookie as he loved her, Sookie smiled as she took Bill's hand and thanked him. Y/n looked out the window with a sigh as she watched Fangtasia get further away.

Y/n stood behind the bar at Merlottes, popping open a beer as she smiled and handed it to the customer, a crisp $5 placed in her hand with a wink, Y/n smiling back before rolling her eyes at the $2 tip this guy thought was flirting. The doors opened as Y/n moved round the bar and greeted the customers, her hand pushing the money inside to deal with later as she raised her head and stared in confusion at Bill, Pam and Eric walking through the door.

"Oh hi." Y/n didn't quite know what to do, looking around as Sookie came towards Bill, Eric and Pam laughing at the dingy bar whilst Y/n stared at them confused. Bill spoke in a hushed voice to Sookie before walking to the back office as Sookie grabbed drinks and served the customers she had been with before they entered.

"Do you guys want a table?" Eric's eyes snapped to Y/n as he grinned and moved closer until her chest touched his, his body looming over her as Pam began handing out Fangtasia vouchers.

"We're only here so Bill can tell Sookie he'll be gone for a while, but i thought i'd come to see you." Y/n raised an eyebrow in confusion and looked around seeing Rene, Hoyt and some of Jason's other coworkers staring at her as she stepped back and looked at Eric.

"You should come to Fangtasia and see me again Miss Stackhouse." Y/n gave him an odd look before moving around him and taking orders, Bill now exiting the office as Sam followed behind and watched him speak to Sookie before Eric hurried him along.

"We know when someone has wronged one of our kind, we can smell it. Be warned." Eric looked around the bar before winking at Y/n and leaving with Pam and Bill in tow leaving the majority of customers confused whilst others shared panicked looks. Y/n smiled at the sweet lady she was serving, the older lady handing her a rolled up bill before leaving. Y/n opened the tip but rolled her eyes, the sun church or whatever the God botherers were calling it now on a false dollar bill, that lady must think she's dancing with the devil or something. Y/n turned to see Sookie being hugged by Tara before she asked Amy to cover her shift and removed her apron, Y/n walking towards her as Sookie gave her sister a hug.

"I need some time alone, i'm going to stay at Bill's to be safe." Y/n nodded and checked her phone, an unknown number having sent her a message.

"If you need company call me." Y/n scowled and deleted the number, someone must have sent her number to a scam site as she placed it back in her pocket and stretched her arms feeling her back crack.

"Alright, i'm gonna pour some more beers lets get back to it." Y/n grabbed a large jug of beer and walked towards Rene and Hoyt, smiling as Rene pulled her into a hug, allowing her to pour beers as he spoke to her.

"You alright little darlin' you not caught up in all that are ya?" Y/n shook her head, her ponytail moving side to side giving Rene a good view of her clear neck as he gave her a kiss on the head.

"Good, good, can't have our best mates lil' sis in trouble." Y/n laughed as he let her go, Hoyt handing her a $10 bill and telling her to get herself a drink even though she got them on the house she thanked him. She was glad Jason had such good friends even if he was a dick sometimes, especially at the moment but even Amy seemed good for him.

Y/n walked around Rene and Arlene's engagement party, a smile on her face as she watched Jason and his friends hug and drink beers whilst Amy chatted away to Sookie and Arlene. Her phone made a noise as she opened it up, another text from the unknown number.

"Miss me yet?" Y/n scowled and deleted it, this time blocking the number as she shoved her phone into her bag on a nearby chair and walked away, smiling at Hoyt came up to her.

"Hi Y/n, do ya, do ya want a drink or anything?" Jason's best friend blushing as he asked, Y/n grinning.

"You're such a gentleman, I'd love a cocktail thank you." Hoyt nodded and put out his arm, Y/n taking it as she walked beside him to the drinks table, smiling as his hands slightly shook whilst pouring the drink. Y/n took it from him and placed a small kiss on his cheek, his face going red as he laughed it off and rubbed the back of his neck trying not to be obvious but failing. The moment cut short as a scream ripped through the building of Merlottes, Sookie running out and into Sam's arms as she cried out.

"He's here!" Sam's eyes widened as he passed Sookie to Tara who had sobered up enough to hold her as Sam, Andy, Jason and a few others rushed inside and began searching, Hoyt ran over with Y/n towards Sookie.

"Alright this is fuckin it, lets go buy some guns and be ready for this asshole." Y/n stormed through the house, Sam and Sookie behind her as she grabbed the shotgun and found the rounds nearby, loading it up and hiding it behind the sofa before grabbing her tip jar and emptying all the money out.

"Y/n we can't shoot someone we can't see! You need to listen to me, i saw everything in his mind, i need to think." Y/n ignored Sookie as she walked off, Sam looking between them before following Sookie to help her figure it out. Y/n shoved the cash into her bag finding her phone ringing, scowling she answered it without thinking.

"What!" Y/n heard silence before a deep laugh, a laugh she remembered too easily as Eric laughed out her name.

"Well Hello to you too." Y/n rolled her eyes and began walking out the house, slamming the door behind her and getting in the car as Eric spoke.

"I just wanted to check in on you as i felt how angry you were, aswell as some fear." Y/n put him on speaker as she drove towards the nearest place she could find with guns.

"How in the hell did you feel that?" Y/n turned the corner, as she tried to think of how that would even work before she slammed on her breaks as a man stood in the road. Screaming she tried to lock the doors as the man approached and opened the door, Y/n trying to exit before the man spoke.

"I tasted your blood so i know exactly what you feel and where you are." Y/n stopped screaming and looked at him in shock as he reached over and took the keys out the ignition, walking round and opening the driver door with a pointed look.

"I'll drive." Y/n nodded, fear coursing through her veins as she sat in the passenger seat whilst Eric began driving.

"I...i'm going to a local gun shop but they don't allow vamps." Y/n's voice was quiet as she picked at her nails, unsure how Eric would react to discrimination of his kind.

"And why do you need a gun?" Eric looked at Y/n as she scoffed and turned in her chair to face him.

"A woman can't just want to protect herself?" Eric grinned as he continued the drive towards the gun shop, turning left into the carpark.

"You can do whatever you want but i just want to know why." Y/n rolled her eyes and opened the car door, Eric moving quickly to pull it fully open and extend his hand which she took with a huff as he pulled her out and against him.

"There's a murderer in Bon Temp, he killed my Gran and tried to kill Sookie. I'm going to shoot him in his goddamn head." Eric grinned widely as Y/n walked past him and into the shop, his tall body leaning against the car as he watched her place down all her money and ask for whatever guns would be easy to hide and easy to use. He laughed as she came out, a pistol in her bag and another in a box with two boxes of ammo under her arms, smiling at Eric as he opened the door and took the gun and bullets from her to place them safely down.

"That was surprisingly easy." Y/n said as she climbed in, Eric beside her as he put the car in reverse, watching her closely as she pulled out the gun and stared at it.

"Have you ever shot one before?" Y/n shook her head, her Gran had always said it was the last form of protection never the first but now she wished she had been taught a few tricks.

"I'll teach you." Y/n grinned as Eric continued driving.

Eric parked outside the Stackhouse residence, Y/n getting out as Eric quickly surveyed the area before letting Y/n know it was safe, Y/n shrugged as she grabbed her new guns and ammo.

"Sook!" Y/n shouted as she entered finding Sookie and Sam sat on the sofa, Y/n almost positive she had interrupted something as Sookie jumped away from Sam. Eric stood by the doorway, Y/n giving him a weird look before telling Sookie to come look at the guns, Sookie following her sister as Sam glared at Eric.

"This is for you, i want you to keep it in your bag Sook, you gotta promise okay? If that fucker tries again you blow his brains out." Y/n was dead serious as she handed the gun to Sookie and pulled her outside, Sookie glaring at Eric as she leant against the wooden pillars with a smirk.

"What are you doing here?" Sookie snarked, Y/n brushing her sister's attitude off as she continued to pull her sister out the safety of the house.

"He's teaching us how to shoot." Sookie raised her eyebrows and looked at Sam who appeared slightly offended a vampire was the first choice over him but Eric was quick to speak.

"I've set up some targets." Y/n listened intently as Eric showed them how to hold the gun, Sam helping Sookie after she shrugged off Eric's help, Y/n instead insisting on knowing exactly how to take apart and put together every aspect for safety. Eric smirked as he stood behind Y/n, her sweet scent filling his nose as he placed a cool hand on her arm, making her aim better before he whispered for her to breathe in, and to shoot. Y/n squealed at the loud noise watching the bullet fly past the tin can as she huffed and watched Sookie try, both of them having similar aim as Y/n cocked the gun and aimed once more.

"Think about someone you want to hurt, pretend the can is them, now breathe in and shoot." Y/n listened closely, closing her eyes and reopening them as she pulled the trigger, the recoil hurting her arm slightly as the watched the bullet hit the tin can. Y/n jumped as she cheered, Eric quickly pushing the gun away from the humans as Y/n awkwardly smiled and put the safety on.

"Good, but you know the best way to be protected?" Y/n looked at Eric intrigued as he bent down, his mouth hovering over her ear as he heard Sookie let out another shot.

"You and I share blood and you invite me in. I'll throw in hot primal sex to sweeten the deal." Y/n sucked in a breath, her eyes dilating as she felt her mouth go dry before she smacked his chest.

"You are in sufferable." Y/n turned back to the target, unclipping the safety and concentrating as she shot another tin can, a smug look on her face as she looked at Eric.

"I just shot you in the face." Eric smirking down at her before he turned his head quickly, grabbing Y/n as he rushed her to the doorway, pushing her inside before doing the same to Sookie, Sam rushing inside as Eric demanded they lock the door. Rushing around the property he stopped as he saw Bill, his face full of anger as he stared at where Sookie and Sam had been standing, his eyes darting to Eric's as the blonde glared at him.

"You are not needed." Bill's voice was deep as he stepped closer to Eric, aware that he was threatening his Sheriff but his jealousy was pushing him closer to the edge whilst Eric grinned menacingly at Bill.

"Is someone jealous?" Bill glared at Eric before rushing away, Eric looking around once more before returning, knocking on the door before Y/n answered it. Gun in hand and facing Eric's face before she sighed and swung the door fully open, Eric looked at her as she put the safety on and placed the gun on a nearby table before crossing her arms and leaning against the threshold that stopped him from entering.

"All good?" Eric nodded as he leant as close to Y/n as he could, his body overbearing as he took up the whole door frame with a seductive smile.

"Changed your mind?" Y/n scoffed and rolled her eyes, grasping the door frame and speaking once more before slamming it in his face.

"Men." Eric grinned to himself before flying towards Y/n's bedroom, watching from afar as she flopped onto the bed and rolled onto her back.

"I just want one normal day." Y/n mumbled to herself before closing her curtains and walking towards the shower.

Y/n slammed her car door as she walked towards Merlotte's, she was beyond pissed at her brother for taking the fall for the murders, even angrier at Sookie for demanding both of them go to work as normal instead of trying to get Jason out. Entering the bar she put on a fake smile and grabbed her apron, serving a few people before Sam pulled her to the side, his eyes on Sookie as they both looked at her, it was obvious she was struggling. Y/n sighed and walked towards her sister, pulling her out the door and towards the car, Sookie not saying anything as Y/n put her in the passenger seat and tried to start the car. Y/n almost let out a scream as the car wouldn't start, her hand slamming against the steering wheel as she popped the hood and got out, ready to check it out when Rene came out of nowhere.

"You girls alright?" Y/n shook her head as she looked back at Sookie, explaining everything to Rene and saying she just wanted to get her sister home and to bed. Rene gave a small smile and offered to look, Y/n tried to help but Rene encouraged her to try the engine again.

"I'm sorry Y/n but this is gonna need some professional work, i can take you guys home though?" Y/n sighed as she debated going back inside and taking Sam's keys to the trailer but she wanted her own bed, taking Rene up on his offer Y/n took Sookie's hand and the pair got into his truck.

The three pulled up at the Stackhouse residence, the sun beating down on them as Y/n unlocked the door, offering Rene a beer as she noticed Sookie staring at him oddly. Rene accepted quickly and followed Y/n, his eyes darting around as he spotted the shotgun behind the sofa, excusing himself to the toilet as Sookie took the opportunity to whisper to Y/n.

"Y/n, i don't trust him. His thoughts don't have an accent." Y/n went to question her further when Rene came back, a gentle smile on his face as Y/n handed him the beer and thanked him for bringing them home.

"Sook, why don't you head up to bed." Sookie listened to Y/n's thoughts, images of the gun on the nightstand flashing in her mind as Y/n asked Rene if he wanted anything to eat. Sookie disappeared upstairs as Y/n moved towards her bag, her hand reaching inside as Rene seemed to change, his accent dropping as he spoke.

"You just couldn't have stayed out of it could ya? Couldn't have been a good girl, had to go around fuckin them vamps." Y/n spun, gun raised as Rene attacked her, his hand gripping her wrist as she cried out, shots hitting the wall as he pushed her hand away from him. Rene getting the upper hand as he slapped her across the face, the power behind his hand twisting her body as the gun fell from her grip and her body slammed into the wall. His hand knotted in her hair as he yanked her back, one hand wrestling with his belt as he tried to get it around her neck, her nails digging deep into his arms as she screamed out. His hand came to grasp her shoulder as he pulled her into him, belt barely in his grasp as he tried to wrap it around her neck.

"Get off her!" Sookie screamed, letting out three shots, shattering the glasses near Rene as he dropped Y/n and ducked, Sookie heaving as she went to reload her gun, not having done so from the shooting practice as Rene ran at her. Y/n scraped her nails against the ground as she held her head feeling scratch marks deep enough to bleed as she turned her head to see Rene yanking Sookie to the ground. Y/n searched for the gun before she heard the door open, Sookie running out as Rene chased after her, Y/n grabbed the gun and stumbled up rushing to follow her sister.

"Get back here you fucking whore." Rene shouted as he chased Sookie, his foot tripping up as he fell down and cursed, turning to see Y/n running towards him.

"Fuck." Rene shouted as he hid behind a tree, watching as Y/n ran past trying to find her sister, allowing him to slowly approach. Sookie turned suddenly seeing Y/n, the pair running into each other as Y/n checked her over, Sookie holding Y/n's face before she screamed and pushed Y/n out the way. Rene slammed the wooden handle of the shovel into Sookie's side, knocking her onto her side as she wheezed out, Y/n crawling backwards as Rene kicked Sookie once more and approached Y/n with a murderous smile.

"Now be a good girl and die!" Y/n fumbled her hand until she felt the gun, pointing it at Rene and shooting him in the leg, screaming out in pain as he dropped the shovel and fell to his knees. Y/n stood up, her eyes dark as swung her leg back and kicked him harshly in the face, watching as blood spurt out his mouth.

"You killed my Gran!" Y/n screamed as she continued kicking him, Sookie rushing over and pulling Y/n back as Rene wheezed out, blood covering him face and hands as he rolled into a ball.

"Y/n! Stop!" Y/n heaved as she looked between Rene and Sookie, giving her a tight hug, the pair checking each other over before a hand grasped her leg and Y/n let out another shot this time into Rene's head as both girls jumped back. Rene stopped moving as blood seeped into the grass and Y/n looked at Sookie with wide eyes, the pair both flooding with relief as tears fell down their faces.

Y/n laid on the sofa, an ice pack on her head as Sookie sat against on the floor with another on her side, the pair barely moving as Jason rushed in. His eyes pooling with tears as he apologised for how he had been acting, giving them both half hugs as he looked them over, guilt eating him up at not being there when it had happened. Y/n and Sookie reassured him it was okay, the three sharing a beer each before Jason was shooed away before sundown.

"I'm going to get in bed." Sookie nodded to Y/n as she watched her walk up the stairs, Sookie had already decided she was going to force Bill to see her but as soon as the sun faded he was there, the pair embracing as Bill questioned Sookie on everything.

Y/n laid in her bed, everything ached and she wished she could shut her brain off but instead she kept seeing Rene's face as she shot him, shaking her head she shakily stood, stripping slowly as she tried to stop her body hurting. As she buttoned up her pyjama top, a thin cotton gingham printed cami and short set covered her as she ran a brush through her hair trying to get all the dirt and blood out of it, she wasn't allowed to wash for 24 hours until the cuts had scabbed. She jumped as something hit her window, her hands shaking as she threw open the curtains finding Eric hovering by her window, her eyes widening as she opened the window and stared at him in confusion.

"I should have been sooner. Are you okay?" Y/n gulped and nodded as Eric got as close as he could.

"Invite me in." Y/n looked back at her bedroom door before chewing on her lip and nodding.

"Please come in Eric." Before she could process it she was sat on the bed, Eric crouched between her legs as he looked her over, taking in the scratches covering her lower legs. His eyes moving up to the bruising covering her thighs and arms and finally resting on where she had a hand mark on her shoulder, he could smell the blood in her hair as she stared at him.

"Drink." Before Y/n could say anything he had bit his wrist and pressed it against the mouth, Y/n squealed slightly before Eric grasped the back of her head, tilting it back as he watched his blood drip into her mouth. Y/n closed her eyes as she almost moaned at the feeling of his blood entering her system, it was euphoric although horrifying that she was being forced to drink his blood and yet as he pulled his wrist back she chased the wound before he swiped his thumb over her lip and watched as each cut and scrape healed. Y/n stared at her legs before running her hand through her head feeling the scratches heal leaving behind unmarked skin as she stood quickly, Eric standing in front of her as she looked at her body.

"What?" Y/n whispered before Eric grasped her chin, looking over her face before smirking and slightly pushing her back so she fell onto the bed allowing him to rest over her.

"Can't have what's mine walking around like that." Y/n scowled before she went to push Eric off but he was by the window, winking at Y/n as he climbed out and left, Y/n cursing him.

"I'm not yours!" Y/n huffed as she curled up in bed, her mind exhausted from the day as she passed out.

Y/n tossed and turned in bed, the duvet scrunched up around her middle as she turned onto her back, her hands fisting her hair before she felt cool hands on her ankles. Sitting up she stared at Eric, a smirk on his face as his hands pushed further along her legs, his broad hands pushing against the muscles as he grasped her thighs and pulled her towards him. He spoke in a language Y/n couldn't understand but the way he looked down at her made her weak in the knees, his hand gripped the duvet and threw it across the room. His eyes dropping to her pyjamas as his hand slowly unbuttoned her top, Y/n whining as she closed her eyes, she could feel his body pressing against her as cool fingers unleashed her chest. His lips connecting to her sternum as he pushed open the top, listening to her whines as he dragged his open legs against her chest and grasped a nipple in his mouth. Y/n gasped loudly as her eyes opened to watch him, his other hand grasping at her thigh as he ground into her, her legs wrapping around his middle as she panted out his name and grasped his hair. Eric looked up at Y/n as he ran his tongue over her nipple and crawled down her body, his hands ripping her shorts in half as she whimpered.

"Beautiful." Eric's voice was deep as he spoke, more words coming out in the same language as before as his eyes dropped to between her legs, his hands grasping her thighs and pulling them apart. His eyes moving back to Y/n's as his fangs popped down, Y/n clutching his hair tighter as she watched him descend on her artery. Pornographic moans escaping her as she felt his fangs break the skin, deep heat spreading through her veins and to her clit as he sucked her blood, her head falling back as she moaned his name.

Y/n suddenly jolted in bed, her hands coming to grab her face before she looked at the bed, the duvet half covered her sweaty body as she tried to piece together what had happened. Y/n grabbed a pillow and screamed into it before throwing it across the room and heading downstairs for a glass of water.

Y/n's eyes ached as she entered Fangtasia, the club empty apart from Eric, Bill, Pam and Sookie.

"I don't owe you anything." Sookie scowled as she fought with Eric, her eyes darting to Y/n as she yawned and rubbed her eyes, she had been woken up by Sookie and Bill to be here.

"You look exhausted, bad dreams?" Eric teased, his fang filled smile making Y/n's mind recall her previous night's dream as she glared at him.

"You are a problem." Y/n pointed at Eric before Sookie moved to pull her sister out.

"I'm not doing it." Y/n spun around as Sookie began walking towards the exit only to feel her other arm be held as she looked at Eric pulling her back.

"It wasn't a request, a very powerful vampire has gone missing and I believe it is the fellowship of the sun, they despise vampires and if they did indeed take him then they could take out all of us." Y/n looked back at Sookie as she glared at Eric before Bill spoke.

"If she does this, you pay her, you can't keep using her because she's associated with me." Eric rolled his eyes as Sookie let go of Y/n and crossed her arms, his hand still on Y/n's arm as she looked at him confused.

"What do you want?" Sookie grinned as she demanded $10,000 enough that she could do some well deserved renovation on their house and have a good rainy day fund.

"I want $5000 for having to deal with you." Y/n quipped as Eric grinned and pulled her closer, pushing her hair off her shoulder to look at her neck.

"Do i get a bite for that price?" Y/n rolled her eyes and put her hair back over her neck before Eric looked up and agreed to Sookie's demands.

"$15,000 but I don't want any complaints." Sookie looked at Bill who nodded, Y/n raised an eyebrow and stepped out of Eric's hold to turn to Sookie.

"When do we leave?"

Y/n sighed as the driver loaded her suitcase into the limo, because of course Eric would send a limo instead of a normal taxi, throwing her backpack inside as she climbed in. Inside Eric, Pam and Bill sat, Sookie climbing in the other side as the doors closed.

"Really? A limo? You have too much money and not enough hobbies." Eric grinned as he sipped on a glass of blood, Bill nursing true blood whilst Pam applied her lipstick. Sookie cuddled into Bill's arm whilst Y/n grabbed the champagne and grinned as she opened the window and popped the cork, watching it disappear into the woods before pouring herself a glass.

"I thought you didn't like the limo." Eric teased as he leant back in his seat, leg crossed over his thigh as he looked at Y/n.

"If i'm being put in this position then I am going to abuse it." Y/n drank slowly with a smirk before looking at Sookie as she asked what the plan was.

Y/n walked off the aeroplane, a limo waiting for them as Sookie looked at the time, only 15 minutes until sundown as Y/n approached the driver holding their last name on a big piece of card.

"Good evening Miss Stackhouse, let me take your bag." Y/n smiled at the driver as he grabbed her backpack, all the suitcases already loaded whilst the workers unloaded Bill, Pam and Eric.

“We should wait until Bill is awake.” Sookie spoke as she watched the driver begin to panic, his thoughts becoming louder as she stared at him, his hand reaching out and gripping Y/n as he tried to drag her towards the limo. Sookie shouted out for help as she grabbed her sister's arms and tried to stop the driver as he cursed out and looked at the sky.

“Get in the damn car you whores.” Y/n yanked her arm back and pushed him away as she and Sookie put distance between themselves and the man as the sun went down. The man panicked trying to get into the limo before he was grabbed, the sound of wood hitting the ground alerting Y/n and Sookie to the sun going down, the man was grabbed harshly by Bill as Eric put himself between Y/n and the limo with fangs out. Bill threw the man against the limo as Eric looked at Y/n, he knew his blood was wearing off in her body and if he wanted to protect her then she would need more.

“Good timing.” Y/n chirped as she walked towards the driver, his body pressed harshly against the limo as Sookie read his thoughts and Bill glamoured him, the pair working well together whilst Pam walked over.

“Did i miss all the fun?” Eric grinned as his protege as Bill dropped the man leaving Eric and Pam to drain him whilst Bill escorted the Stackhouse sisters into the limo and got in the drivers seat.

Y/n stood in front of the large hotel room, her jaw dropped as she flung her backpack on the bed and jumped onto the plush mattress, rolling over with a laugh before closing her eyes and sighing. The hotel room was the size of their living room, let alone the fact there was an ensuite and a large sofa with a tv aswell. Y/n wiggled on the bed before getting up and rushing to see the bathroom, giggling like a child as she saw the massive tub, she loved to relax in a bath and hoped she could get some salts and oils to enjoy with it.

“I see you like our room.” Eric grinned as he leant against the bathroom door, Y/n jumping out her skin as she turned and looked at Eric, her face turning into a scowl.

“What do you mean our?” Eric’s grin turned into a full smirk as he brandished his own key, Y/n crossing her arms with a huff as she pushed past him and grabbed her backpack.

“Fine then, you enjoy this room and i’ll stay with Sook.” Eric appeared before her, his smirk still playing on his face as he shook it.

“I wouldn’t disturb them, Bill could barely wait until they reached the room.” Y/n cringed as she got the mental image of her sister and Bill out her head and turned towards the bed pouting.

“You can sleep on the sofa then, since you’re a vamp you’ll be fine.” Eric used his super speed to press Y/n against the bed, his knee between her legs as she felt dizzy from the sudden movement and her eyes took a second to focus on Eric before she slapped his chest and scowled once more.

“I promise to be a gentleman, but we need to share blood. For your safety of course.” Eric’s face went from serious to predatory as he moved his head to inhale her scent, Y/n hearing his fangs pop as she placed her hands on his shoulders pushing him back although she knew he had allowed it since she couldn’t move him if she was a body builder.

“Hold on Bucko! I’m perfectly safe without being a human pin cushion or drinking from you thank you very much.” Eric ran his hand along her arm and grasped her hand, kissing her knuckles before placing it beside her head, her other one still pressing against his shoulder as he lowered himself gently to not hurt her.

“My blood is wearing off and without it i can’t know where you are or if you are in danger, your blood is to keep the connection strong.” Y/n raised an eyebrow as she thought it over, she knew what they were doing could be dangerous but she also didn’t want to be tied to Eric in such an intimate way, especially after her numerous dreams about him. Eric used his speed to sit with his back against the headboard, Y/n straddling him as he bit his wrist and placed it near her mouth.

“Drink.” Y/n stared at it for a moment before nodding and placing one hand on his wrist to press it against her mouth, his mouth opening as he watched her before grasping her free wrist and kissing the vein. Eric watched her intensely as he sunk his fangs in, her eyes closing as she waited for the pain but it never came. Instead she felt warmth spread through her arm, opening her eyes. She and Eric maintained eye contact as they both drank. Y/n pulling away before Eric as he relished in her sweet, divine taste, it was addictive and he wished to have more and more but he pulled away. His fangs stayed down as he pierced his finger and dotted the blood over the fang marks, his fangs clicking in as her skin magically healed over leaving no visible trace he had touched her.

“Why does drinking the blood not heal that? Why do you have to put it over it?” Y/n held her wrist as she ran a thumb over where he had bit, the skin alight as she felt her core warm and stomach seem to fizzle.

“It would heal it eventually but it’s like a stake of claim on a human, that you have been bitten by a vampire and although our blood heals you at an exceptional rate it works barely on the bite mark only stopping the blood before it slowly closes.” Y/n nodded as she looked down and blushed as she realised she was still on Eric’s lap, his hands rushing to grip her hips as she tried to move off, a small smile on his face as he pulled her down to lay against his chest.

“Just relax for a while.” Y/n froze as she felt the heat in her core become scorching, her stomach now full of butterflies and every touch of Eric’s skin felt like electricity rushed through her skin and made the hairs stand. She could feel her heart beating quicker as she concentrated on her breathing, very aware of Eric’s powers and that it would be impossible for him to not hear her heartbeat or how the blood rushed through her body at an accelerated rate than usual.

“Shouldn’t we go to the nest you said about, to meet with the other vampires.” Y/n’s voice was soft as she laid against his cool chest, trying to listen for a heartbeat or breathing she knew would never happen. Eric made a noise before shifting Y/n from him, watching as she rolled off the bed and stood before brushing her clothes and put her hands on her hips.

“So…tell me the plan.” Y/n grinned.

“He is my maker.” Y/n’s eyes widened as Eric explained why the vampire in question was so important, Sookie looking sadly at Eric as Pam glared at Bill for pushing Eric to tell.

“He is a very powerful vampire and i believe someone in his court has betrayed him, i will find out who.” Eric’s words were filled with venom as he walked past the group and left, Pam following suit as Bill took Sookie’s hand and Y/n followed behind.

As they entered Godric’s domain, Y/n looked around, she was certain over a hundred people were in the room alone as Eric spoke to another vampire, Pam standing beside Y/n as per Eric’s instructions although Y/n was unaware.

“You dare to suggest one of us would betray him!” The vampire shouted, the pair getting into a heated argument before Eric’s fangs dropped and the vampire hissed at him. Y/n couldn’t help but realise how alike cats Vampire’s truly were, hissing and scrapping but loving when you fed them.

“Okay boys lets reel this in or we won’t get anywhere.” Pam drawled, her arms crossed as she rolled her eyes at the buffoonery, the pair listening to her and stepping back but glaring deeply at the other.

“You expect us to put our faith in two humans?” Y/n tried not to be offended as Stan spoke, another lady speaking up as she said her lover would go with them, the man smiling and shaking the Stackhouse’s hands as he introduced himself.

“Hi, I'm Hugo.” Y/n gave him a small smile but Sookie began talking whilst Y/n just crossed her arms and watched Eric growl at Stan again.

Y/n stared in the mirror as she wore one of Sookie’s sundresses, pale blue with light pink flowers, the halterneck pushing her chest up with a silver necklace and pearl charm resting between her breasts. Placing on some light pink heels which were also her sisters, she had to remind herself to call Sookie by the fake name, she was still her sister but Sookie and Hugo were married and wanted to join the church.

“You look ravishing.” Y/n rolled her eyes as she turned to look at Eric, her hands working through the bouncy curls she had just taken out the rollers, her entire outfit screaming innocent christian kid.

“I look like Sookie.” Eric smirked as he stepped forward, opening his hand to reveal a beautiful ring, silver and thin with intricate detailing around the side, leaf-like shapes wrapping around a crystal as Y/n stared at in awe.

“You are not Sookie and Sookie is not you. You are a beautiful, angelic being with or without the costume. I much prefer you as you normally are but it is fun to see the other sides.” Y/n stared at Eric unsure what to say before he took her hand, gently placing the ring on her right ring finger, reminding himself she was meant to be an innocent girl and not a married woman.

“Thank you.” Y/n was able to mumble out as Eric held her hand, his other hand coming to push the curls out her face as she gulped slightly, the tension thick before the door opened and Sookie walked in.

“You ready?” Eric was across the room in an instance, glaring at Sookie as he walked out and left Y/n with a dry mouth and her eyes lingering on the ring.

“It is so nice to have you all here, you make a lovely couple and Mia you would be a perfect addition to our family along side your Sister and Brother in-law.” Sarah held Y/n’s hand as she spoke, the bubbly blonde seeming overly excited for new members whilst Steve gave a fake smile and looked towards Gabe.

“Thank you so much Ma’am, i am hoping to make so many friends and maybe even meet a nice God loving man to live here with just like my Sister has.” Sarah grinned widely as she pulled Y/n into a hug, gushing about how much fun it will be to introduce her to all the men and women of the church and that she might have a couple of people in mind.

“Well this has been lovely folks but Gabe here needs to take you for the rest of the tour, we like to show folks the underbelly before signing everything in.” Steve gave another fake smile whilst Sookie’s faltered, her eyes darting between Steve and Gabe whilst Sarah held Y/n’s hand and looked confused.

“Steve, Honey, i can take them to the office and do all the legal stuff now they don’t need to go down there.” Steve let out a fake laugh and shook his head, pulling Sarah away from Y/n as Sookie finally heard what she needed, her eyes darting to Y/n before Gabe knocked out Hugo and grabbed Sookie. Steve moving to grab Y/n as she screamed and punching him in the chest, his body half bending as he wheezed, Y/n running at Gabe and throwing herself on his back as he tried to drag Sookie towards the basement doors.

“Get off her!” Gabe threw his body about wildly until Y/n was knocked off, her back hitting the ground hard as she felt the wind be knocked out of her, Steve now cursing as he called his soldiers in. Two men who Sarah was sure she hadn’t seen before entered as she had tears flowing down her face, one man slamming Y/n’s head against the ground hard enough to make her dizzy before dragging her down the stairs behind Gabe, another following suit with Hugo.

“God damn vampire lovers.” Steve cursed as he wiped his mouth, his eyes glaring at the basement doors before smiling at his wife and walking away.

Y/n had a nasty headache when she opened her eyes, Sookie was still out whilst Hugo was sat with tears flowing as Y/n watched Gabe grin at them.

“Two out of three awake isn’t too bad. Now lets get to my questions.”

Y/n slammed her hands against the metal gating as Gabe interrogated Hugo, Hugo giving up their real names and that Sookie could read minds

“Shut the hell up Hugo!” Y/n shouted as Gabe grinned and looked at Y/n, her hands gripping the metal as she glared at him.

“So Y/n Stackhouse, Sookie Stackhouse…i wonder what your brother thinks about you being fangbangers.” Sookie scowled as she demanded to know how they knew about Jason but Gabe was gone. Y/n glared at Hugo as he held his head in his hands, his body covered in sweat as he took deep practised breaths.

Sookie kept staring at Hugo until she gasped and stood, her face falling as she spoke.

“You! You told them about us!” Y/n looked confused towards Sookie before Hugo began having word vomit, explaining how he believed vampires only used humans until they were nothing left and that he couldn’t feel this way any longer. Y/n walked towards him and slapped him harshly, grabbing his shirt and pulling him so they were face to face.

“You got us dragged down to a basement, beat up and probably killed because you didn’t have the balls to break up with your girlfriend.” Y/n spat, shoving Hugo back down as she began kicking and hitting the gate trying to force it open.

They were down there for what felt like hours before the door opened, Hugo standing up as Gabe walked in.

“Gabe! You gotta get me out of here, she knows it was me and I need protection…what happened to your face?” Gabe slammed the door open, grabbing it and locking it behind him before his fist met Hugo’s face.

“Protection huh, you want to protect you, dirty fangbanger!” Y/n’s eyes went wide as Gabe kicked Hugo hard, Sookie running and grabbed Gabe, pulling his arm back as Y/n jumped on his back and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“You fucking whores.” Gabe growled out, swinging his arm and throwing Sookie against the units, his hands gripping Y/n’s arms and with a bruising grip he bent over and flipped her onto the back, her head bouncing against the ground as she cried out in pain. Her eyes barely focusing as she watched Sookie smash a box over his head, Gabe angrily grabbed her round the neck and pressed her into the unit as Y/n tried to get up but her body wouldn’t move.

“You and your moron family are done making a fool out of me.” Sookie gasped for air as Gabe squeezed her neck, Y/n’s eyes barely staying open as she called out to her sister.

“Get your filthy hands off me.” Sookie pushed her palm against Gabe’s face trying to get him off as he seethed with rage, Y/n forcing her body up before Gabe threw Sookie down, turning and kicking Y/n harshly in the stomach making her roll onto her back and wheeze out in pain.

“What’s wrong huh! Your own kind not good enough for ya.” Gabe slammed Sookie against the ground, grabbing at her dress as she screamed and tried to get away, his hands ripping open her dress as he spoke.

“Yeah show me how you take that big vampire cock.” Sookie cried out as Gabe grabbed her legs, Y/n trying her hardest to roll onto her side as she spat out blood and her whole body wanted to collapse, she wished for the sun to go down and to watch this man be drained dry by Bill and Eric.

“Scream for me baby.” Gabe forced Sookie onto her front as he straddled her, his hand bruising her skin at his harsh grip. Suddenly she felt the weight be taken off her as she cried and turned over, forcing herself against the wall as she looked at the man holding Gabe. Y/n managed to crawl towards Sookie, the sisters holding each other as Y/n covered Sookie’s lower half and the pair stared at the man whilst Gabe choked and tried to get free.

“Godric?”

“Please please don’t kill me.” Gabe pleaded as Godric looked between Sookie, Y/n and Hugo, sighing as he snapped Gabe’s neck, Sookie crying as she watched his body hit the floor. Y/n was lucky she had Eric’s blood in her system as she felt her wounds slowly heal, not as quick as before but enough that her body was now only filled with a dull ache instead of a mind blinding one.

Godric helped Y/n stand, Sookie holding her dress closed as Y/n coughed harshly.

“Fuckin asshole.” Y/n spat at Gabe’s corpse as Godric helped them out of the cell, Hugo breathing but unconscious as Sookie looked out the window seeing the sun was finally down.

“Y/n.” Y/n felt herself be enveloped in arms as Eric grabbed her, his head in her hair as he inhaled before looking her over, her eyebrow was cut and he could smell fresh blood coming from a wound on her leg and arm but she smiled at him.

“Eric.” Godric spoke, his voice calm yet full of authority as the latter let go of Y/n and bent down on one knee, head dipped.

“You were a fool for sending humans after me.” Y/n watched in awe as Godric spoke to Eric.

“I had no other choice, these savages seek to destroy you.” Eric looked up at Godric as he spoke, his voice full of concern and love as Godric continued to look down at him with no emotion.

“I know what they have planned. This one betrayed you.” Godric motioned towards Hugo where he laid passed out, Sookie hugging herself.

“They say a trap for us, without Godric…” Sookie couldn’t finish the sentence as her eyes dropped to Gabe’s body, shivering as she tried to not think about how close he got to raping her if not for Godric.

“How long has it been since you fed?” Eric watched Godric as he looked back at him.

“I require very little blood anymore.”

An alarm began blaring as Godric looked disappointed towards the exit of the basement.

“Take the humans and go.”

“I will not leave you.”

“Take them and go, do not spill any blood on your way out. I will be fine.” Eric nodded standing as he held Y/n’s hand and Sookie followed behind, nodding her head to Godric as Eric guided them out. Y/n looking back at the old vampire as she tried to decipher what he had planned but she didn’t think it would be a happy ending.

Y/n watched and cringed as Eric spoke in an american and meek voice, his body language that of a meek human whilst he looked like a viking, watching as the men tried to attack him. Sookie held Y/n close as Eric knocked the humans unconscious, Eric signalling them out before a horde of believers entered, Eric’s fangs dropping as he placed Y/n and Sookie behind him. Y/n watched in horror as Eric gave himself up in exchange for his maker and the Stackhouse’s safety, Steve grinning as he bound him in silver, his hand on his shoulder as he demanded the men grab the women.

“It is honourable however, I think we need to show these fangbangers how easily their coveted vampires die.” Eric grunted as the men forced him to watch, Y/n spitting at Steve as he glared at her.

“Pig.” Y/n was shoved along behind Eric as Sookie tried to hold her dress closed and walk, all three entering the altar as the Stackhouse’s were forced to watch Eric lay down and more chains be added, each one making him hiss in pain. The doors slammed open as Bill and Jason entered, a gun in Jason’s hand as Bill hissed and called out to Sookie. Steve grabbed Sookie as the man holding Y/n adjusted his grip to wrap an arm around her neck, her hands coming to dig her nails into his arms but he only tightened them. Jason shot his weapon, hitting the gun out of Steve’s hand before he shot him in the head, Steve being knocked back as Bill grabbed Sookie and Y/n, the men all grabbing their stakes as Jason fought against Luke.

“Get em!” Stan shouted as he entered, other vampires following as they all began fighting, Y/n rushing over to Eric and removing the silver, grabbing his face as he hissed in pain as she pulled them.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Y/n reassured him as she threw the last silver to the side and placed a hand on his cheek, watching as all his wounds healed.

“Stop! There will be no bloodshed.” Godric spoke, his voice deep and loud as he stood in the stained glass window, an almost godly light behind him as he demanded all vampires let the humans go.

Steve cried out as his people left him alone, Godric holding him by the scruff of his collar as even Luke, a devoted member, left and closed the door leaving him alone with the vampires and Stackhouses.

“And i slept with your wife.” Jason grinned as Y/n, Sookie, Bill and himself left Steve with Godric.

Y/n stood beside Sookie at the nest, both changed into more comfortable clothes as everyone celebrated the return of Godric although Y/n could feel he wasn’t as excited as everyone else was.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Y/n mused as Sookie looked at her sister confused.

“What?”

“That he’s not happy to be back, he wasn’t chained or anything. Just there. I wonder why.” Y/n shrugged as she looked at her drink and swirled the cocktail around before taking a drink.

“Sookie I presume.” Y/n looked the new person up and down, her bright red floor length gown out of place as Y/n took that as her cue to walk away since Sookie was more than protected in the room. Eric left Godric to talk to Y/n, honing in on her as she leant against a wall, smiling at Eric as he loomed over her.

“How are you feeling?” Eric was confused at the question, not used to being asked such a human thing but shrugged and looked towards Godric.

“He told me what happened, i should have been there sooner i am sorry.” Y/n’s eyes moved to Sookie and nodded before looking back at him.

“They all think vampires are the worst evil in the world but truthfully it’s those without a moral code or conscience that are the scariest and most unnatural ones. I’m just grateful to Godric.” Eric watched her carefully, feeling her every emotion as she looked back at her drink and put on a smile, raising the drink towards Eric.

“To us all.” Y/n finished the drink and pushed off the wall, Eric moving back and watching her as she walked towards the table and poured another cocktail, enjoying how the vampire bartender offered her different versions. Y/n heard a sudden noise, looking over at where Bill now held Sookie whilst Godric had the woman in red by the throat, explaining to everyone that he wanted humans and vampires to live in harmony and that vampires like Lorena had no future in the new world. Y/n was shocked as Bill was commanded to escort her out, being banished from his area for her actions.

(I’m changing the story to Godric is only fired for giving himself up and doesn’t die because honestly i always hated that and for being such and old and wise vampire he should have been used more)

Y/n laid in her own bed, relishing in the silence throughout the house, Sookie was with Bill and Y/n was finally alone with her thoughts. She imagined that Eric and Pam were sorting out fangtasia, Sookie was probably trying to sort out Jessica and Bill’s relationship and well, she was laid in bed alone. Closing her eyes she sighed as she tried to relax her body but she felt too tense, too pent up from the last few weeks of continuous hell.

“Were you waiting for me?” Y/n let out a scream and jumped, almost falling off the bed as she stared at Eric, a smirk on his face as he watched her, arms crossed and a chuckle coming from him.

“Do you make a habit of breaking and entering?” Y/n demanded as she pulled a blanket up to cover her pyjamas as Eric half crawled on the bed towards her.

“It’s not breaking and entering if you’ve let me in, you didn’t even lock the door Y/n.” Y/n’s eyes widened as she realised she had no recollection of doing it but kept her eyes on Eric as he came closer.

“Well thanks for checking in, you can go now.” Y/n raised an eyebrow as he grinned, laying next to her as he put his hands behind his head and looked at her.

“You’re no fun, don’t i atleast get a reward for saving you?” Y/n stared at him with an incredulous look and shifted to lean on her side and stare at him.

“And what did you save me from exactly?” Y/n turned to his side and propped himself up so he was face to face with her as his fangs dropped but Y/n stayed still.

“Anyone could have come in and ravished you, instead here i am to give you everything you’ve ever wanted and more.” Y/n rolled her eyes and huffed as she put her back against the headboard and side eyes Eric as he ran a hand along the blanket covering her legs.

“No one is going to come and ravish me.” Y/n pushed his hand off and got up, walking around the bed and opening her bedroom door as she cocked a hip and looked at Eric.

“You know where the front door is.” Eric laughed and made himself comfy on the bed, grinning deeply at Y/n as she deadpanned.

“I think it would be best if I stay here and look after you. It wouldn’t be safe.” Y/n rolled her eyes and closed the bedroom door, climbing in beside Eric and rolling over so her back faced him.

“Goodnight.” Eric grinned to himself before using his speed to strip down to his underwear and climb in next to Y/n, the latter huffing and turning around as he made the bed move.

“Why are you half naked?” Y/n stared at his face as he winked at her and moved a hand to run along her hip, her mind going back to the dream as she realised she was wearing the same pjs as before. Her eyes clouding slightly as she felt her heart race, Eric smirking as he noticed the flood of arousal through her body and leaned closer.

“Why aren’t you?” Y/n stared at Eric for a moment too long before she surged forward and kissed him, Eric falling onto his back as she straddled him, his hands hungrily clutching at any skin he could touch. Their lips only parted so Y/n could grab his face and make him focus on her.

“This is just sex, nothing more.” Eric’s fangs dropped at her words as she let out a moan at them.

“Tell me that again once i’ve made you cum so hard you can’t remember your own name.” Y/n felt her core burst with need as she ground on him, Eric taking control and flipping them as he grazed his teeth along her pulse point and down until he was crawling between her legs.

“These will have to go.” Y/n wasn’t able to answer before he ripped her pjs bottoms, her naked bottom half being lapped up by his eyes as his hands reached up and ripped open her shirt, watching her breasts jiggle and nipples peak from the cool.

“You better replace them.” Y/n chided as she watched his hands come in contact with her thighs, spreading them slowly as she watched him groan at the site of her pussy. His eyes moving to look at her as he settled between her thighs and lightly kissed her inner thigh, watching her closely.

“I will buy you anything you wish.” Y/n bit her lip as he ran his fangs along the artery in her thigh, tingles spreading through her legs as goosebumps followed, each small nick of sharp tooth against soft skin setting a fire in her stomach until his lips met her clit. Y/n gasping as her head fell back, his tongue licking a long strip along her pussy as her hands found his hair and tugged making him groan against her pussy.

Eric spoke words in a language Y/n could not understand, too busy feeling how his tongue worked her closer and closer to the edge, fangs nipping against the sensitive bud as she gasped and whined at the feeling. Eric enjoyed how she reacted to each movement, his hands palming at her thighs, goosebumps following each touch and he could hear the blood rushing straight to her pussy. Y/n moaned loudly as he head hit the mattress, hands tugging hard on his hard she he swirled his tongue watching as her body began to shake, teetering on the edge as he moved his head away. His thumb taking place as he sunk his teeth into her artery, the combination making Y/n cum, eyes going blury as she felt like she blacked out, Eric moaning at the taste of her blood when he opened his eyes and jumped back from her. Y/n’s hands glowed as they now fell beside her, chest rising and falling as she came down from her high, eyes opening as the light disappeared and left her dazed and confused as she looked at Eric.

“You glowed.” Eric managed to say as Y/n raised an eyebrow and sat up slightly, staring at him as he watched her like she was an alien.

“I glowed? What the hell does that mean.” Y/n huffed as she pulled a blanket over her, embarrassed now that she had cum and felt less out of control of her lust. Instead she wished she had kicked him out so she didn’t have to deal with this.

“Your hands glowed when you came.” Y/n now looked shocked as she looked at her hands, she had always had an odd feeling when she was feeling intense feelings, but since she had never remembered a glow coming from her hands it seemed silly.

“I glowed.” Y/n repeated this time more certain as Eric came closer and took her hands, thumb moving over her palm before a smirk came over him.

“I guess we’ll have to test it again then. For science.” Y/n squealed as Eric pulled the blanket back and dragged her down the bed, a protest dying in her throat and being replaced with a choked moan as he lapped at her clit again.

Y/n tried not to look at Eric, after their ‘experiment’ the other week she had almost passed out from how many times he had made her cum and she was too exhausted to have sex afterwards. Not that Eric had minded in the slightest, he’d seen her hands glow three times throughout the night and had thoroughly enjoyed himself. Now she stood awkwardly in fangtasia as Sookie asked for help, Bill had gone missing and Sookie was distraught.

“I will look into it, but it was not me.” Sookie crossed her arms and stared at him for a moment before agreeing, turning around and going to leave as Y/n scampered behind her but was caught by Eric as he moved in front of her.

“I need to speak to you.” Y/n hid her thoughts quickly and awkwardly scratched her neck.

“I’m really busy actually.” Sookie gave her a confused look and Y/n could feel her poking around in her head but Y/n had learnt how to block her out for the most part or atleast project the correct thoughts.

“It wasn’t a question.” Pam moved to escort Sookie out, Y/n giving her a reassuring smile and projecting her thoughts, letting her know she was okay and to go to Merlotte’s. When the door closed and Pam was gone Y/n swung her arms back and forth and looked anywhere but Eric as he stared down at her.

“You haven’t answered my calls or texts.” Y/n smiled nervously at Eric as she looked at him, her mind going back to him between her legs as she blushed and looked back down.

“It’s been a busy week.” Eric made a noise and grabbed her, speeding them into his office as he pressed her against his desk, her legs wrapped around his body as he smirked down at her.

“Then let me relieve some of the stress.” Y/n didn’t get a chance to answer before he kissed her, feeling her melt into the kiss as she felt him grind against her jeans, hands kneading her thighs. Pulling away she turned her head as she let out a moan, his lips going to her neck as he kissed down to her collarbones and back up, hand grabbing her chin to kiss her again.

“You are addictive.” Eric spoke against her lips, feeling her hands grab his shirt as she dragged it up his body. Hands running back down his chest to rip at his trousers as she moaned against his lips. Eric used his speed to rid him of his clothes, kneeling between Y/n’s legs as he slowly unbuttoned her jeans and peeled them from her legs, kissing along her bare calf and up her thigh maintaining eye contact. Y/n in a trance as she watched Eric’s fingers hook in her underwear and drag them down her body, his hands running along her legs as he stood and leant over her. Kissing her gently, only breaking to tug her shirt over her head as he worshipped her. Hands deftly removed her bra as her nails dug into his arms as he claimed her mouth, pulling small moans and whines from Y/n as his hands explored her body. Pulling away he kissed down her body, watching as she leant back on the desk, legs opening for him. Grinning he sucked gently on the clit, listening to her heart race and the air be sucked into her lungs as her hands gripped the desk. He continued for a minute longer, his hands kneading her inner thighs before he rose, her eyes blown as he kissed her. Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck as she felt his finger at her entrance, slowly pushing in as she moaned into his mouth. Eric slowly worked her open, gently coaxing her body to fully relax before he removed his finger and lined himself up. His forehead resting against hers as he spoke.

“Is this okay?” Y/n nodded quickly, hand coming to pull him back into a kiss as he growled against her lips and slowly pushed in. Y/n moaned as he filled her, head falling back as Eric kissed her throat, controlling himself from going faster as he slowly pushed in and out until he felt her body fully relax. Y/n whimpered as he pushed in harder, her legs wrapping tightly around his back as he pulled her face back to kiss her, fangs grazing her bottom lip.

“You feel heavenly.” Eric whispered against her lips, her eyes opening to look at him as he pushed in faster, watching her eyes barely stay open as she moaned, making him groan at the feeling of her flexing around him.

Y/n felt her stomach begin to tighten as Eric went quicker, one of his hands grasping at her breast as he played with the nipple, the other dropping between her legs to rub on her aching clit. He moaned as he felt her tighten around him, her nails now digging into his back as she held onto him. Her body bounced against his as he thrust, his head dropping to her neck as he grazed his fangs against her pulse point. Y/n whining and nodding as his thumb sped up, his fangs piercing her skin as she came, his name falling from her lips as he sped up. Her body squirming against him as he forced her into a second orgasm, his own moan mixing with hers as he came. His fangs moved from her neck as he slowed, his vampire abilities letting him recover quicker as she felt him harden once more in her. The feeling making her clench and moan, overstimulated and exhausted as he pulled out kissed her bite mark. Y/n’s chest rose and fell with each deep breath as Eric disappeared and reappeared a moment later, a small white cloth in his hand as he cleaned her. Taking his time as he watched her twitch as each swipe of the cloth, her body trying to move away as he cooed at her.

“It’s okay.” Y/n nodded as he moved away, throwing the cloth somewhere she couldn’t see as he picked her up and laid her against his chest on the sofa. Her body curled into his cool one, allowing her body to relax further as she looked at him.

“That was…wow.” Y/n could barely think as Eric grinned and kissed her, his fangs dropping as he moved back and pierced his finger, rubbing his blood over the maro and watching it heal over. He knew the one on her thigh was still there, claiming her as his.

They sat together for a while before Y/n forced herself up, grabbing her clothes and entering the bathroom as she got herself ready and walked out. Eric stood dressed as he smirked at her.

“No round two?” Y/n laughed and shook her head.

“I think one was enough for my human body, but this is the only time okay? We both got it out of our system and you can move on to your next obsession.” Y/n’s voice was serious as she spoke, convincing herself it was now done with and he could go on to the next person. Eric scowled as he moved in front of her.

“Excuse me?” Y/n looked at him confused as she crossed her arms.

“This was just sex remember?” Eric looked down at Y/n before grabbing her hand and pulling her into his chest.

“Did you really think i have done everything i have just to fuck you? That I care so much about your pussy and not you?” Y/n blinked in confusion as she didn’t know what to say.

“I want you to be mine Y/n. I have since the moment we met and i do not take that lightly.” Y/n was perplexed as Eric brought her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss on it.

“Be mine.” It was phrased like a question yet didn’t sound like one to Y/n as she stared into his eyes, unsure what to do as she felt her heart tug at his words.

“Why?” Y/n’s mouth was dry as she asked, Eric laughing slightly as he shook his head and held her face as he got so close she felt his lips graze hers.

“Because i love you and you love me.” Y/n felt tears in her eyes as she moved forward and kissed him, the two tangling in each other as Eric picked her up, holding her tightly as he pulled away. He looked at her expectantly as she smiled at him.

“I’m yours.”

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